#a kiss of love. a kiss of betrayal. a kiss of death. a kiss of forgiveness. a kiss of mercy. a kiss of God

[stxrkiss]

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀꯬⠀ׄ⠀ೄ⠀ֵ⠀ׄ⠀𝗁ִ꩝ׄ𝗍ֵ⠀ׄ𝗍𝗁ִ݀ᦸ⠀ໍẜ𝗅ֵ𝗈݀ׄ𝗈ִɾ⠀ׄలֵ͜⠀ໍ⠀ִ〫⠀ू⠀ׄ⠀

他の誰にも君を渡さない。

# 𝑷𝑨𝑰𝑹𝑰𝑵𝑮 : 𝑌𝑎𝑛𝑑𝑒𝑟𝑒 𝒮ℴ𝓁𝒹𝒾ℯ𝓇 ℬℴ𝓎 𝑥 𝐹𝑒𝑚 𝑅𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑟 ☆

# 𝑺𝒀𝑵𝑶𝑷𝑺𝑰𝑺 : 𝘏𝘦 𝘥𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘶𝘳𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶. 𝘏𝘦 𝘥𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘦𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘵𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘴. 𝘉𝘶𝘵 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘦𝘭𝘴𝘦 𝘩𝘦'𝘴 𝘴𝘶𝘱𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘥𝘰 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘤𝘦 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘥?

# 𝑾𝑨𝑹𝑵𝑰𝑵𝑮 : 𝘛𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘱𝘪𝘦𝘤𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘴 𝘥𝘢𝘳𝘬 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮𝘦𝘴, 𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘭𝘶𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘣𝘴𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯, 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘤𝘬𝘩𝘰𝘭𝘮 𝘴𝘺𝘯𝘥𝘳𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘱𝘩𝘺𝘴𝘪𝘤𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘢𝘣𝘶𝘴𝘦. 𝘙𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘥𝘪𝘴𝘤𝘳𝘦𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘪𝘴 𝘢𝘥𝘷𝘪𝘴𝘦𝘥. 𝘐𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘶𝘯𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘵𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘴𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮𝘦𝘴, 𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦 𝘥𝘰 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘤𝘦𝘦𝘥. 𝘔𝘪𝘯𝘰𝘳𝘴 𝘋𝘕𝘐 ⚠

# 𝑵𝑶𝑻𝑬𝑺 : 𝘌𝘯𝘨𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘩 𝘪𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘮𝘺 𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘴𝘵 𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘶𝘢𝘨𝘦.

Ben never thought he could love someone the way he loves you.

Not that he ever wanted to love anyone. Love is weakness, a distraction, something soft and delicate that makes you vulnerable to betrayal. He saw what it did to others, how it made men beg, how it turned the strongest warriors into spineless fools. Love was a sickness.

But you?

You ruined him.

He doesn’t even remember when it started. Maybe it was the way you looked at him like he was something more than just a weapon. Like he was human. Maybe it was your voice, soft and kind, even when he was covered in blood. Or maybe it was the way you smiled at him, not with fear, not with caution, but something dangerously close to trust.

You never should’ve done that.

Because now?

Now, he can't let you go.

It starts slow. A lingering hand on your waist when he walks past you. A sharp glance at any man who gets too close. An unspoken rule that you don’t leave his sight, that you always stay within reach.

But then it gets worse.

The first time he hears you laughing at another man’s joke, something inside him snaps. He doesn't even realize what he's doing until the poor bastard is on the floor, coughing up blood, barely breathing. You scream at him to stop. Your hands push against his chest, trying to drag him away.

And God, it feels good.

Not the violence—he’s always loved that—but you. Touching him. Clinging to him. Pleading with him.

For a second, he thinks you finally get it. That you finally understand you’re his.

But then he sees the look in your eyes.

Fear.

You’re afraid of him.

It makes his blood boil.

Not because he cares about scaring you—he doesn’t give a shit about that. No, it’s the reason why.

You don’t fear him because he’s strong. Because he’s powerful. Because he could destroy you with a flick of his wrist.

You fear him because you think he’d hurt you.

And that? That’s fucking unacceptable.

Ben never touches you in anger.

That’s what he tells himself.

Sure, he grabs your wrist a little too tight sometimes. Sure, his hand lingers on your throat when he kisses you, pressing just hard enough to feel your pulse. Sure, he shoves you against the wall when you try to run, his breath hot against your skin as he growls warnings in your ear.

But he doesn’t hurt you.

He’s not some goddamn monster.

Everything he does is for you.

For both of you.

Because you don’t get it. You don’t see it.

The world is cruel. It’s ugly. It’ll chew you up and spit you out without a second thought.

But not him.

Never him.

He keeps you safe. He protects you. He owns you.

So why the fuck do you keep trying to leave?

The first time you try to run, he drags you back by the hair, shoving you onto the bed. You fight, thrashing under him, screaming, but he just pins your wrists above your head, eyes dark with something dangerous.

"You got a death wish, sweetheart?" he growls.

You shake your head, eyes wild with terror.

"Liar." His grip tightens. "Look at me."

You do.

And it wrecks him.

Tears stream down your face, your lips trembling, your body shaking beneath him. He swears he feels something snap inside his chest.

Fuck.

He hates this.

He hates how fucking weak you make him feel. Hates that he gives a shit about your tears. Hates that the sight of you crying makes his stomach twist in ways he doesn’t understand.

His jaw clenches.

"You wanna leave?" His voice is lower now, calmer, but there’s an edge to it. A warning. "You think anyone out there’s gonna protect you like I do?"

You stay quiet.

He laughs. It’s humorless.

"You think they’re gonna love you like I do?"

At that, your expression crumbles.

"You don’t love me," you whisper.

Something inside him snaps.

His fingers tighten around your wrists, and for a moment, just a moment, he wants to break you.

But he doesn’t.

Instead, he leans in, lips brushing against your ear as he whispers, "Don’t say shit like that."

You tremble beneath him, and he loves it.

Not the fear.

The submission.

The acceptance.

Because you’re his.

You always have been.

And you always will be.

After that, things change.

Your attempts to run become less frequent. Your fights become weaker.

He rewards you when you're good.

His hands become gentler, his kisses softer. He holds you close at night, whispering sweet nothings into your ear. He tells you how perfect you are, how much he loves you, how you’re the only thing that keeps him sane.

He tells you he’d burn the world for you.

And you believe him.

Because when you wake up, curled against his chest, feeling his strong arms around you, you realize something terrifying.

You’re starting to believe that maybe—just maybe—he’s right.

Maybe the world is cruel.

Maybe he does love you.

Maybe you should stay.

Because no matter how much you fight, no matter how much you resist, there’s one thing you can’t deny.

You belong to him.

And he’ll make damn sure you never forget it.

© stxrkiss ☆ don't copy, translate or use my works here or any other websites.

[lotussart]

The Taking of The Lamb

COTLtober Week 4: A Kiss

[missdynamighttt]

if husband! katsuki had a dream that you served him divorce papers, he would be SO mad at you.

katsuki woke up with a start, his chest heaving as the remnants of the vivid dream clung to his mind. in the dream, you had stood in front of him, utterly calm, as you handed him his worst nightmare: divorce papers.

“it's not you, its me,” you said, your expression indifferent as if breaking his heart meant nothing. "i'm just bored, katsuki."

it wasn’t real, he knew that. but the image of you walking away from him felt too real, too painful. the words echoed in his head as he sat on the edge of the bed, his fists clenched. bored? how could you say that after everything you've been through? even though it was just a dream, it shook him to near death.

and when katsuki saw you later that morning, smiling and greeting him like usual, he couldn’t help but scowl. normally, the sight would calm him, but instead, a strange sense of betrayal bubbled up inside him. how could dream-you say something like that? and why couldn’t he shake the feeling?

“morning, katsuki,” you said cheerfully, leaning in to kiss him on the cheek.

he turned his head slightly, causing your lips to brush his jaw instead. you blinked, confused. “uh… everything okay?”

“fine,” he muttered, getting up and leaving you all alone in the bed.

all day, katsuki avoided your texts, kept his responses curt, and barely looked your way when you crossed paths at home. you quickly realized something was off but couldn’t figure out what. by evening, you had enough.

"okay, whats your problem? you've been sulking all day,” you said firmly, standing in front of him while he sat on the couch. “you’ve been acting like i killed your damn dog. what did i do?”

katsuki glared at you, his emotions finally bubbling over. “you left me! that’s what you did!”

you stared at him, completely baffled. “what are you talking about? i didn’t leave you. i’ve been here all day!”

katsuki exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. “fine. i had this stupid dream, alright? you—” he hesitated, the words catching in his throat. “you divorced me. you said you were bored and just... left me.”

for a moment, there was silence as you processed what he was saying. then, to katsuki’s annoyance, you started laughing.

“you’re mad at me... because of a dream?” you asked, your laughter bubbling out uncontrollably.

“it felt real!” he barked, his cheeks flushing slightly. “you don’t get to laugh! this isn't fuckin' funny! do you know how shitty that felt?!”

“i’m sorry!” you gasped between giggles, clutching your stomach. “it’s just… do you really think i’d ever do that?”

katsuki’s scowl deepened. “its not that. its just... you said it so casually in the dream. like i didn’t even matter.”

you tried to stifle your laughter, but your amusement was clear as day. “katsuki... you’re everything to me. i would never leave you. ever. especially not because i was bored. you’re the opposite of boring. you’re the most stubborn, infuriating, incredible man I’ve ever met.”

he grunted, looking away. “tch. doesn’t change the fact that it felt real.”

you bit your lip, guilt swirling in your chest. you could see how much the dream had affected katsuki, even if it wasn’t real. determined to make it up to him, you climbed onto his lap, straddling him, and cupped his face in your hands.

“i’m sorry your brain decided to torture you like that,” you said softly before leaning in to pepper his face with kisses. “but let me remind you of how much i love you.”

your lips pressed against his forehead, his cheeks, his nose, and finally, his lips. each kiss was light and playful, drawing a reluctant smirk from him.

“sweets,” katsuki muttered, trying to keep up the tough act, but you didn’t let up.

you continued your attack, kissing down his jaw and back to his lips, murmuring between kisses. “i'm so happy you're my husband.”

katsuki finally relented, his hands settling on your hips as he let out a low chuckle. “you’re fuckin' weird.”

“and you’re grumpy,” you teased. “but i love you anyway.”

“hmph. i love you too,” he admitted, his voice softer now as his arms wrap around you, brushing your nose against his. “sorry for being an idiot today.”

“you’re not an idiot. just... talk to me about it next time, okay?”

"fine. be my fuckin' wife for forever, 'kay?"

"i promise," you cut him off with a kiss.

and katsuki kissed you back, finally letting the tension melt away, drowning himself in the taste of your and your presence. you're here. you weren't gonna leave him because he was bored. you never would.

"tch. i’m still blaming you for my bad dreams though."

‎‧₊˚✧[ it's me, kia ! ]✧˚₊‧ ｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ｡ﾟ ‎‧₊˚✧[ more of katsuki ! ]✧˚₊‧

[yandere-writer-momo]

Thinking about a yandere werewolf, but not just any werewolf… a bounty hunter. And he has it bad for his you. Cowboy Werewolf!

Yandere Shorts: Like I Love You

Yandere werewolf x fem reader

TW: obsession, delusional themes, abo dynamic, horror, gore (mentioned), death of characters, neglectful husband, betrayal, cheating husband, forced relationship, mention of baby trapping, and behavior that should not be romanticized

Rolfe was currently on a hunt… his target is a sickly preacher’s, one that should be easy enough. Her own husband had paid him quite the pretty penny to off her. Poor little lamb didn’t stand a chance in the wilderness of this world. Not when she had enemies close to her side such as an unfaithful husband and a conniving best friend. He almost felt sorry for his prey

He arrived a day later, his clawed fingers dragged through a lock of her hair as he inhaled her scent. She smelled… delicious. And she was so vulnerable too with her nape out that just begged for his teeth to be driven into…

Rolfe shook his head before he went back into a trance when she subconsciously leaned into his touch. His hand moved up and grazed her temple that felt as if it were ablaze. Poor woman had a fever…

“Darling? Did you finally come to me?” Her voice was a bit delirious with sickness as she kissed his hands. Each kiss made him feel as if he was her beloved. It took everything in him not to loudly whine like a dog. “I missed you so much James. I’m sorry I got sick again.”

Rolfe didn’t say a word before he continued to drag his rough palms through her hair. His heart hammered in his chest and his wolf clawed inside his brain to be released. It seemed this woman before him… was his fated mate.”

Rolfe bent down and buried his nose into the crook of her neck to deeply inhaled. Oh yes… this lassy was his for the takin.

Rolfe began to slowly nurse her back to health rather than off her. An action that made his employer question him. Why on earth would a monster nurse such a nuisance back to health? She was always near death’s door. What use was such a delicate woman in the Wild West?

“When are you going to off (your name)? She’s an easy target.”

“I have honor as a bounty hunter. It must be a hunt.” Rolfe snarled at (your name)’s husband, James, the man who dared to keep her sick due to his lack of care. Had that scrawny man have no pride as a man? The pastor made him sick.

“She’s easy to pick off right now. I’d really like this to be over and done with so I can marry Helen. This is why I hired a monster-“ Rolfe picked James up from the ground by his throat as James gasped for air.

“You are a foolish, greedy man. Are you sure you are truly a man of god?” Rolfe growled, showing his fangs. His dark, muscular form largely towered over James’s lithe frame. “You’re a pathetic man.”

Rolfe soon went back to the care of (your name). The werewolf rubbed his cheeks all over her bed and her body to scent her… he needed to get rid of James’s scent. Rolfe wouldn’t let another have her and hurt her again… he’d spirit her away.

Rolfe wondered how many pups she’d want. If they’d be pretty like her but strong like him… if she’d pepper him with nips and kisses everyday. If she’d beg him for his knot on the next full moon as he properly mated her?

“Darling?” (Your name) reached for his face and Rolfe was quick to put his face in them. A needy whine escaped his throat while he nuzzled her. She was his precious mate…

He snarled when he saw Helen enter. The woman scoffed at him in disgust.

“Ugh. James and I are tired of waiting. You have been here over a month! We want you gone beast. We’ll do it ourselves.”

“So you’re cancelling the contract?” He hummed while he continued to tenderly kiss (your name)‘a palms. “Are you sure? Did you read the fine print?”

“Yes. We don’t need your kind here, true love will prevail-“ Helen didn’t even have time to scream before a giant black wolf hybrid had dug it’s fangs into her throat and ripped it apart like wrapping paper. Blood splattered all over the floor and walls as Helen could only helplessly choke on her own blood.

“Yes… true love will prevail.” He muttered with a a satisfied hum. “My mate will be so happy.”

Meanwhile, James fled into the forest for dear life. That beast had gotten Helen! The two of them couldn’t believe the werewolf would turn on him.

James loudly leapt when he heard something large chase him through the underbrush on all fours. He could hear his heartbeat in his ears and feel his sweat pool down his back in puddles. He needed to get to the church! A demon such as the bounty hunter couldn’t possibly enter there-

But James was knocked to the ground as an agonized shriek fell from his lips. The werewolf began to shake and mangle his leg like the bloodthirsty beast it was…

“Let me go! Let me go! I didn’t do anything-“

Rolfe chuckled darkly. The black werewolf dropped his legs and glanced his beastly head at James. “Oh but she never did anything either… all she did was foolishly love you.”

“W-what do you mean? Are you talking about-“ James’s words were muffled by the paw like hand that covered his mouth. Rolfe shushed him.

“Shhh. You may have failed to pay me and cancel my contract but I had gotten something far more valuable from this transaction. Something most werewolves dream to find in their lifetimes… a fated mate!” Rolfe sighed dreamily. “You may have failed as a protector and provider, but I surely won’t! You have given me something more valuable than any coin could offer… yet you were neglectful to her. Such a shame really.”

“I… I’ll do anything! Just take her and let me live.”

“Ah but I can’t do that. Not when she still calls for you at night. No… you have to be eliminated. Destroyed, really. You can no longer exist on the same planet as her! You are in the way of my love!”

Loud screams of terror ringed out throughout the crisp night air and then it was silence.

Rolfe returned hours later scrubbed clean of blood while he crawled into the bed with his darling mate. He sighed in contentment when she cuddled him. Yes… it may take time to train her properly, but he was sure he could do it. He could make her love him. Just like he loved her.

[extinctlesspains]

I really loved the salesman imagine.could you write one where the reader and the salesman had a romance.But he gives a card sending her to the games.Feeling and hurt and betrayed she does her best to survive and she ends up winning along with Gi-hun.now three years later the reader goes to visit Gi-Hun with her 2 year old daughter.(she had found out she was pregnant after the games)she walks in on Gi-hun and the salesman during Russian roulette 

𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝑚𝑜𝑛𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑠 𝑔𝑜𝑛𝑒 [𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝑆𝑎𝑙𝑒𝑠𝑚𝑎𝑛]

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚　˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚　˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

ʀᴇǫᴜᴇsᴛᴇᴅ: ʏᴇs ᴏʀ ɴᴏ

☆ ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: ᴛʜᴇ sᴀʟᴇsᴍᴀɴ x ᴀғᴀʙ! ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

☆ ɢᴇɴʀᴇ: ᴀɴɢsᴛ

☆ sᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: ᴀ ᴡᴏᴍᴀɴ ʙᴇᴛʀᴀʏᴇᴅ ʙʏ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄʜᴀʀᴍɪɴɢ sᴀʟᴇsᴍᴀɴ ᴡʜᴏ sᴇɴᴛ ʜᴇʀ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇ ᴅᴇᴀᴅʟʏ ɢᴀᴍᴇs sᴜʀᴠɪᴠᴇs, ᴅɪsᴄᴏᴠᴇʀs sʜᴇ’s ᴘʀᴇɢɴᴀɴᴛ, ᴀɴᴅ ʀᴇʙᴜɪʟᴅs ʜᴇʀ ʟɪғᴇ ᴡɪᴛʜ ʜᴇʀ ᴅᴀᴜɢʜᴛᴇʀ. ʏᴇᴀʀs ʟᴀᴛᴇʀ, sʜᴇ ᴄᴏɴғʀᴏɴᴛs ᴛʜᴇ sᴀʟᴇsᴍᴀɴ ᴅᴜʀɪɴɢ ᴀ ᴛᴇɴsᴇ ᴇɴᴄᴏᴜɴᴛᴇʀ ᴀᴛ ɢɪ-ʜᴜɴ’s ᴀᴘᴀʀᴛᴍᴇɴᴛ, ᴄʜᴏᴏsɪɴɢ ᴛᴏ ᴘʀᴏᴛᴇᴄᴛ ʜᴇʀ ᴄʜɪʟᴅ ᴀɴᴅ ʀᴇᴄʟᴀɪᴍ ʜᴇʀ ᴘᴏᴡᴇʀ ᴏᴠᴇʀ ʜɪs ᴍᴀɴɪᴘᴜʟᴀᴛɪᴏɴs.

☆ ɪɴᴄʟᴜᴅ���s: ᴘʀᴇɢɴᴀɴᴄʏ, ᴋɪssɪɴɢ, ᴠɪʀɢɪɴɪᴛʏ ʟᴏss, ᴀʀɢᴜɪɴɢ, ᴄʀʏɪɴɢ, ᴅᴇᴀᴛʜ, ɢᴜɴ ᴛᴀʟᴋ.

⋇⋆✦⋆⋇　

It all started with a simple game.

You’d been on your way home, drowning in stress and overdue bills, when a man in a sharp suit approached you at the train station.

“Care for a little fun?” he asked, holding up a red and blue envelope.

At first, you wanted to refuse. But his easy charm—and your desperation—drew you in. He explained the slap-match game, and soon you were caught in the strange, exhilarating rhythm of winning and losing. By the end, you were breathless, laughing despite the sting on your cheek.

“Not bad,” he said, handing over the cash with a smile that felt too warm, too genuine for a stranger.

You couldn’t stop thinking about him after that. When you ran into him again a few days later, he acted like it was coincidence.

“Maybe it’s fate,” he teased.

Soon, he was everywhere—buying you coffee, walking you home, and making your life feel just a little less heavy. He made you laugh, listened to your frustrations, and looked at you like you were the only person in the world.

One night, after weeks of growing closer, you found yourself in his arms. You’d invited him in after a long evening, your walls lowered by exhaustion and the warmth of his presence. You were full of ecstasy after that night. The way his lips kissed your neck, the way his thrusts were so sensual.

“You’re special, you know,” he murmured as his fingers traced lazy patterns on your back.

“Do you mean that?” you whispered, scared to hear the answer.

“I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t.”

His words were your undoing. That night, you let him see all of you—your fears, your flaws, and your dreams. For the first time in years, you felt safe.

The illusion shattered when he slid the card across the table.

“What’s this?” you asked, staring at the embossed logo. Circle, triangle, square.

“A chance to change your life,” he said, his tone eerily calm.

You frowned, a pit of unease forming in your stomach. “What kind of chance?”

“It’s a game,” he explained. “An opportunity to win enough money to solve all your problems.”

“Why are you giving me this?” Your voice wavered, the trust you’d built with him suddenly fragile.

“Because I care about you,” he said, his gaze steady.

His face softened, but he didn’t retract the card. “I believe in you, Y/n. More than you believe in yourself.”

His words felt like a betrayal wrapped in a compliment. Against your better judgment, you took the card, driven by desperation and the hope that maybe he was right.

The games were worse than you could have imagined.

Every death chipped away at your soul, and every betrayal reminded you of his. But you refused to break. Gi-hun became your lifeline, his determination and kindness pulling you through when you felt like giving up.

“We’re going to make it,” he promised one night, his voice steady. “We have to.”

You survived, but at a cost. The prize money felt like blood money, and the nightmares lingered long after the games ended.

A month later, you discovered the pregnancy.

At first, you were terrified. The thought of raising a child alone, of explaining where her father was and why he wasn’t around, felt overwhelming. But when you heard her heartbeat for the first time, everything changed.

You named her Hana, meaning “flower.” She became the anchor that kept you grounded, her laughter a reminder that there was still beauty in the world.

When she was born, you held her close, tears streaming down your face. “You’re my miracle,” you whispered.

Hana grew into a bright, curious toddler who filled your life with light. But you couldn’t shake the shadow of her father—the man who had once made you feel safe and then abandoned you to the wolves.

Two years later, you decide to visit Gi-hun. He had become like a brother to you, someone who understood the darkness you’d endured. As you climb the stairs to his apartment, Hana babbles in your arms, clutching her favorite stuffed rabbit.

But when you reach the door, the sound of voices stops you cold.

“Are you sure about this?” Gi-hun’s voice, tense and uncertain.

“I never force anyone,” a familiar voice replies.

Your heart races as you push the door open.

Gi-hun and the salesman sit at the table, a revolver between them. The salesman looks as composed as ever, while Gi-hun is pale and trembling.

“What the hell is going on here?” you demand.

The salesman looks up, his eyes widening slightly as he sees you—and the child in your arms. “Y/n.”

Gi-hun stammers, “It’s not what it looks like—”

“You’re playing Russian roulette!” you snap, your voice rising. “How is that not exactly what it looks like?”

The salesman’s gaze flicks to Hana. “You have a daughter,” he says softly, putting the pieces together.

“Don’t you dare,” you hiss, clutching her closer. “You don’t get to talk about her. You don’t get to act like you care.”

“I do care,” he says, standing slowly. “I never wanted to hurt you.”

“You lied to me,” you spit. “You used me. You sent me to those games knowing I might die.”

“I gave you a choice,” he says, his voice calm but firm.

“You gave me a death sentence,” you fire back. “And now you’re here, dragging Gi-hun into your twisted games? Haven’t you done enough damage?”

The salesman’s jaw tightens. “It’s not that simple.”

“No,” you say, your voice shaking. “It’s exactly that simple. You destroy people’s lives and pretend it’s for their own good. But you don’t get to do that to us anymore.”

He looks at you for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then he nods, his eyes lingering on Hana one last time.

“Goodbye, Y/n,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper.

As the door closes behind him, you sink into a chair, trembling.

Gi-hun reaches out, his voice filled with regret. “I’m sorry—”

“It’s not your fault,” you say, cutting him off. “He manipulates people. That’s what he does.”

Hana wriggles in your arms, her tiny hand brushing your cheek. “Mama,” she says softly, her voice filled with love.

You press a kiss to her forehead, tears slipping down your face. “We’re okay,” you whisper, more to yourself than anyone else.

Gi-hun watches you, his eyes filled with both guilt and gratitude. “Thank you,” he says quietly.

“For what?”

“For saving me.”

You meet his gaze, your resolve hardening. “We save each other.”

[night-night-stories-before-bed]

Breaking the cycle

Warning ⚠️; Grief, quick mention of child abuse, trauma, angst, past character death, let me be delusional. Spoils for Arcane all seasons.

Pairing: Silco/Male!Reader, Jinx & Male!Reader (Father Figure)

Summary; you were angry and hurt after the death of Silco, your lover and partner, by the hands of your adopted daughter Jinx. So you just walked away, needing time to heal. But how could a father stay away when his daughter needs him?

~~~~~~~~

You never imagined a life without Silco in it. From your time in the mine to now, he has always been there. Either by your side, in your shadow or his name being on someone’s lips. You couldn't recall a time without him except when you were a kid.

He had always gotten your back and you his. You had stopped counting the times you took care of his injuries or how many times Silco stitched you up. You almost lost him, still having nightmares about it even after his death.

You remembered how bloody and raw his face had been. You thought he was done for, but he had lived. Lived and with you had taken care of that ankle biter. Jinx had been a daughter to you the second you were introduced to her as you saw so much of yourself in her. She was a bundle of joy to you.

But now she was the reason of your greatest pain.

As Silco once said “Is there anything so undoing as a daughter?” and the answer was no. No there wasn't. For he had died by the hand of your own daughter.

You remembered screaming at the sight of Silco’s dead body as your heart and soul broke. His skin had been so cold when you cradled him in your arms, rocking and trying to wake up from that nightmare. Jinx had been crying, begging for forgiveness.

But you only felt anger and betrayal toward her. How could she after everything Silco had done and sacrificed for her? She was your only child and in a tantrum, she killed the only person who ever truly loved you.

How could you forgive her?

You had left, needing space away from her. Away from everything so you could heal and accept the reality. Easier said than done. Each morning you wake up cold in an empty bed, in a place filled with silence. Gone is the smell of cigars, makeup and coffee during the morning and it leaves a deeper hole in your heart.

The worst are the dreams and nightmares. The nightmares haunt you with the memories of the past of the mistakes you made. The dream teases you with a reality that isn't yours anymore. Like waking up next to Silco, being able to touch his face once more or kiss him one more time.

Either way, you always wake up crying, breaking more with each passing night.

Before you knew it, months had passed. You kept an ear out, listening to the news. Jinx was still being herself, but the tensions also grew. Even in your hole, you could feel it. It was a question of time before a single act blew everything up and conflict would turn into a bloody mess.

When you came back to your senses, grief still clouding your mind, you felt ashamed. You had turned your back on Jinx when she too was hurt by her own actions. You didn't know what to do, how to approach her and ask for forgiveness.

You wrote letter after letter, throwing away each one of them, disliking them. You couldn't find the right words until you stopped trying. You tried to explain to her how you felt, that you didn't hate her and forgave her just like Silco would have. You asked for her forgiveness for how you just treated her, knowing damn well you didn't deserve it.

After sending it, there was no answer.

Through the great vines, you learn that Jinx had taken a little girl under her arm. A child she had named Isha. Isha, what a sweet name you thought the first time you heard it. Jinx was still the kindhearted girl you remembered her to be and you were glad she had someone by her side even if it was a mute child.

Staying in the shadows, you watched over her. She seemed happy with that little girl, a spark coming back in her eyes. It was clear Jinx saw the kid as her sister, but that child saw her as more than that.

Jinx never noticed you, but Isha did. She came to you a few times and you always gave her a little something. Food, toys and even her own little gun once. Her smile reminded you of Jinx’s when she was little before Vi left. Maybe that was why Jinx kept her around, because Isha was just like her and she knew how to take care of the little girl.

You had wished to take your time coming back into Jinx’s life, but things took a wrong turn and you were forced to act quickly. The battle against Warwick took you by surprise, more than it should have. Why you didn't see it coming, you didn't know, but you showed up.

How couldn't you when your daughter was there, risking her life? But you didn't see her. Didn't see either her hair or heard her voice and you feared you had been too late. That she had died before you could ask for her forgiveness.

Then you heard her scream and just ran.

You saw a little flash of blue as Jinx screamed Isha’s name. The child looked at you as she passed you, running, a gun in her hands. Your blood turned to ice as you immediately knew what she was going to do.

You turned on your heels and followed after her. You were an adult, taller and larger than Isha and, more importantly, slower. But you managed to make your way through the battle and reach her as Isha raised her weapon. You snatched the damn thing from her and threw it in the air. Before it fell back down you took Isha in your arms and booked it.

Your legs and lungs hurt as you ran away, little hands grabbing your clothes. You gasped when the explosion happened, the blow hitting you in the back. You wrapped your arms around the child, trying to shield Isha as much as you could. Your body hit the ground with a loud thud and you felt your shoulder give up, dislocation.

Dust filled your mouth and nose, making you cough and sneeze. But so did Isha.

You opened your eyes, grimacing with pain before looking down. The kid was crying, her little hands rubbing her face. You sighed in relief seeing her unarmed. Unlike you. But you didn't care.

You slowly sat down hearing running footsteps coming towards you. You sat the kid on your lap still making sure she really wasn't hurt. Your shoulder was killing you, but you ignored the pain when Isha smiled at you before hugging you.

- “ISHA!” Jinx’s scream surprised you and you both looked in her direction.

Jinx was running toward you, her long braids bouncing all around the place. Tears rolled down her eyes you saw as she fell onto her knees next to you. You never got the chance to talk, your daughter wrapping her arms around you and Isha before she broke down crying.

You embraced her, letting her melt and snuggle against you. You weren't better as you began to cry as well, asking for her forgiveness. Jinx just nodded, whispering that you had nothing to be sorry about.

You closed your eyes, just wanting to savour the moment, but the next thing you knew darkness actually swallowed you up. You woke up on a comfortable bed, a small ball of heat pressed against your side. Groaning, you looked at what it was only to find Isha sleeping next to you. Her helmet had fallen from her head to the floor, but her hand still grabbed onto you. Little snores left her mouth and you smiled, passing a hand in her hair.

- “You are awake.” Jinx's voice almost scared the shit out of you and you froze, looking to the side.

Your daughter looked tired, like she hadn't slept in days. Maybe it was the case since you didn't know how long you were out. There was sadness and fear in her eyes as her gaze shifted to Isha. The sweet thing was unbothered.

- “Yeah. I guess I am.” You whispered, slowly blinking. “Jinx, sweety I…”

- “Don’t. Don’t say you are sorry. You have no reason to be, I understand. I got your letters I… just never knew what to reply and where to send them.” She cut you off, her fingers pinching the skin around her nails. “Thanks for saving Isha. I… I don't know…”

Tears filled her eyes and you offered her your hand. Jinx took it and you squeezed her delicate hand in your. You knew what she meant as you felt the same. Losing Silco had been painful, the worst pain you ever felt, but the thought of Jinx dying? Of losing your daughter to the cold embrace of death?

Oh, that sort of pain was unbearable. You wouldn't be able to keep living in a world without her.

- “I know princess, I know. That is why I was there, for you. I didn't want to lose you like that, not before asking for your forgiveness. I never should have left. I abandoned you when you needed me the most and I'll never forgive myself.” You said, voice low as to not wake up the kid.

Jinx dried her eyes before almost jumping into the bed. She dropped on your other side, arms around you as she buried her face in your unhurt shoulder. You grimaced a bit, body still sore, but wrapped your arm around her.

- “You are my daughter and you'll aways be. Nothing will change that, Jinx, okay?” You whispered in her hair as she nodded.

- “You scared me. When you lost consciousness I thought you just dropped dead. I thought… I thought I had lost you again.”

Her voice shivered as she fought back her tears. You closed your eyes, kissing her head. You didn't want to think about it. You weren't scare to die, but you also didn't want to leave Jinx alone with a child in her charge.

- “I’m sorry. I never meant to scare you so much.” You said, stroking her hair.

- “That's a lot of sorry…” She whispered and you snorted.

- “Yeah, I have a lot to be sorry about… What about the kid? How’s Isha doing?” You asked, turning your attention toward the sleeping girl.

- “Hadn't left your side ever since we got you here. She helped me take care of your wounds and your shoulder. I don't think she like the sound of dislocated shoulders.”

- “You didn't either at her age.”

She laughed and you smiled.

- “Dad… are you…” She mumbled, unable to fully ask her question but you knew what it was.

- “I am not going anywhere. I came back home, I came back for you and Isha.” You replied and Jinx relaxed against you as if you had taken the weight of the world off her shoulders. “But the kid is still your responsibility. You took her in, you are raising her.”

- “Too young to be a mom!” She whined and you chuckled.

- “Then be a big sister to her. Like I said, I ain't leaving you alone. We will manage. After all, me and Silco raised you well enough. I bet I can do it again.”

Jinx had tensed when you mentioned Silco but quickly relaxed again. She nodded and wrapped her arms tighter around you.

- “Sleep. You need it as much as I do.” You whispered and Jinx denied it.

Yet, it wasn't long until your daughter was fast asleep against you. You looked down at her, admiring the woman she was becoming. You were glad you had managed to save Isha, not liking the idea of her death destroying Jinx. She had lost so much, losing that kid would have been the last straw.

You fell asleep soon as well, wondering if Silco was watching over your little family from the other side. You felt a wave of sadness at the though of Isha never knowing Silco but chased the thought away.

Even if he was dead, you weren’t and you would make sure to share memories of him and Jinx’s childhood with Isha.

You fell asleep with a smile on your lips being finally back home.

[holyblonded]

new foods | stargirl

pairings: alexia putellas x teen!reader, olga rios x teen!reader, barcelona femeni x teen!reader

summary: alexia decides to diversify the food at home and you, a notorious picky eater, suffers

warnings: avo-freaking-cados

notes: as a former picky eater this resonates with me ✊🏾

"Ale, please! Leave the cooking to Olga, por favor," you begged, practically on your knees in the kitchen.

Alexia, standing at the counter with a determined look and an apron that read "Master Chef", waved you off like you were being ridiculous. "No, this will be good for everybody. The physios and nutritionists all agree—you need more protein in your diet. No more pizza and all those energy drinks every day. You're a growing girl and need all the nutrients you can get so you can grow to be big and strong."

You stared at her with a blank expression, blinking slowly as if you were processing her words. Then, as if struck by divine inspiration, you whipped around to face Olga, who was trying (and failing) to hide her amusement in the corner. "Please, Olga. Don't let the monster do this. You're the only one who can stop her!"

Alexia rolled her eyes and gave you a light smack on the back of your head. "Monster? Really?"

Olga burst out laughing, leaning against the doorframe. "Sorry, mi Estrellita, but I have to go to Madrid for the week. And you know as well as I do that once she's set her mind on something, there's no stopping her."

She walked over, pressing a kiss to your forehead and then to Alexia's, her grin widening at the pure look of betrayal on your face.

"Be good," Olga said sweetly, ruffling your hair.

"How can I be in these conditions?" you groaned, throwing yourself dramatically onto the couch, your face buried in your hands like a grieving widow in a telenovela.

"You're so dramatic," Alexia huffed, crossing her arms. "This will be a good change, Estrelleta, prometo." She walked over, kissed the top of your head, and then headed to the door to see Olga out.

The moment the door closed, you threw your head back and let out an exaggerated wail. "Why me?!"

From the kitchen, Alexia's voice called out, "Stop acting like I'm going to poison you. It's eggs, niña. People eat them every day!"

You sat up abruptly, squinting toward the kitchen. "Eggs? That's it? That's your grand plan? That's your big nutritional breakthrough? Eggs?!"

"With spinach," Alexia added smugly, emerging from the kitchen holding up a bag of wilted greens like it was some kind of trophy.

"Spinach?!" you gasped, clutching your chest. "Ale, what do you take me for? A farm animal?!"

Alexia laughed, shaking her head as she walked back into the kitchen. "You're impossible. And for the record, this is why you're stuck with me as your cook. Maybe if you didn't treat every green vegetable like it's a personal attack, we wouldn't be here."

You groaned again, flopping back on the couch with your arm draped over your forehead like you were moments away from fainting. "If I don't survive this week, tell Eli and Alba I love them."

"I'll be sure to let them know during the funeral. Cause of death: an actual vegetable," Alexia called back, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

You couldn't help but smirk as you peeked toward the kitchen. "You're enjoying this, aren't you?"

"Immensely," Alexia admitted with a grin.

The sound of a pan clanging against the stovetop made you wince. "Ale," you called nervously, sitting up. "Are you sure you know what you're doing?"

"Niña, relax," Alexia replied confidently. "How hard can it be?"

The smell of something burning wafted into the living room.

"Ale!"

"Okay, maybe a little harder than I thought," Alexia muttered, frantically waving a towel at the smoke detector as it began to beep.

You couldn't help but laugh as you watched her struggle. "Olga, please come back," you whispered to yourself, shaking your head. This was going to be a long week.

The cafeteria buzzed with its usual lunchtime energy—trays clinking, teammates laughing, and the faint aroma of fried food in the air. Your stomach growled as you grabbed a tray, your eyes scanning the buffet like a predator stalking its prey. You weren't sure what you wanted, but one thing was certain: it wasn't going to be anything green, or worse, anything with Alexia's dreaded stamp of approval.

As you reached the pizza station, your salvation in sight, a firm hand gripped your elbow, yanking you out of the line.

"¡Ven aquí! (Come here!)" Alexia demanded, a grin on her face that was far too smug for comfort.

"¡Ay, qué ahora! (Oh, what now!)" you groaned, your tray wobbling precariously in your hands. "I was this close to lasagna!"

"You don't need that," Alexia said, practically dragging you toward a table like an overly enthusiastic nutritionist.

When you got there, Alexia pulled off the lid from a covered plate with a flourish, revealing a kale salad so green it could've been plucked straight from a meadow. It was topped with avocado slices, cherry tomatoes, quinoa, and—because fate clearly hated you—a dollop of cottage cheese sitting ominously in the middle like the world's saddest sundae.

You stared at the plate, then at Alexia. "You... expect me to eat that?"

"It's good for you," Alexia replied cheerfully, gesturing toward the chair she had so kindly pulled out for you.

"It looks like something my rabbit would eat if I had one," you deadpanned, making no move toward the seat. "Can we get a rabbit?"

"Stop being dramatic and no. It's packed with nutrients. You'll love it," Alexia insisted, her smile unwavering as she nudged you forward.

"Alexia, I swear," you said, narrowing your eyes. "If this is revenge for that time I 'accidentally' spilled Gatorade in your cleats—"

Alexia's eyes flashed dangerously. "It's not revenge. It's about making sure you don't turn into a walking bag of chips and pizza slices."

Across the room, Mapi was already halfway through a plate of fried rice, watching the scene with barely disguised amusement. "Estrellita, just eat it. The sooner you do, the sooner she'll stop hovering over you like your abuela checking your homework."

"Traitor," you muttered under your breath before finally plopping into the chair with a heavy sigh. Picking up your fork, you poked at the kale tentatively, as though it might spring to life and attack you.

"You're not poking it; you're eating it," Alexia said sternly, arms crossed.

Glaring at her, you stabbed an avocado slice with dramatic flair and shoved it into your mouth. The moment it hit your tongue, your face twisted in disgust. "This tastes like regret and bad decisions," you declared, coughing. "Why do you hate me, Ale?"

Alexia rolled her eyes. "You're being ridiculous. It's good for you. And you'll thank me when you feel amazing during training and on the field."

"I'll thank you if I survive this week," you shot back, dramatically pushing the plate away as though it had personally wronged you.

Meanwhile, Aitana leaned over from the next table, smirking as she whispered to Keira, "Five bucks says she orders pizza tomorrow."

Keira grinned. "Deal."

Mapi, still chewing on a fry, added, "I'll throw in another five that she bribes someone to smuggle her in snacks before the week's over."

"I can hear you," you snapped, throwing a glare at your teammates.

"And we're still right," Mapi said, laughing with Keira and Aitana.

Alexia reached over, spearing one of Mapi's fries from her plate as the defender swatted at her hand. "Stop complaining and eat, Estrelleta. You'll feel better after."

You stared down at the salad again, poking it like it owed you money. "When Olga gets back, we're staging a coup. No more kale dictatorship."

The whole table erupted into laughter as Alexia groaned, "You're impossible."

"Estrelleta?" Alexia called out again, her voice carrying a note of growing irritation. She had scoured the entire house, from the bedrooms to the kitchen to the gym downstairs. Nothing.

She passed your room once more, pausing when she heard the faint sound of shuffling and... crunching?

"No, I want a refund," your muffled voice complained, irritation clear despite your full mouth. "There's no extra cheese on this pizza! And you forgot the second bottle of Sprite! Not to mention you didn’t buy the right Monster. I said Pipeline Punch not freaking Mean Bean! Monster Java isn’t even good. Worst delivery ever."

Alexia's eyes narrowed. She followed the sound to your closet, where she stood silently, listening for another second. Taking a deep breath, she pushed open the door, revealing a scene that could only be described as chaotic.

You sat cross-legged on the floor, surrounded by an empty pizza box, untouched Monster Java, greasy napkins, and a half-drained bottle of Sprite. The glow of your phone lit your guilty face, while a half-eaten slice of pizza dangled from your hand.

"Estrelleta," Alexia said flatly, arms crossed.

You froze mid-bite, eyes wide like a deer caught in headlights. A piece of pepperoni drooped from your mouth. "Oh, uh... Ale! Hey there! Didn't hear you come in."

"I'm sure you didn't," Alexia replied, stepping into the closet. She gestured to the mess around you. "And what exactly is this?"

You clutched the pizza box to your chest like a treasure chest of secrets. "This? Oh, this is...uh...team research! Yeah, I'm testing potential new post-game meals."

Before Alexia could respond, your phone crackled to life on speaker.

"Told you it was worth it!" Patri's unmistakable voice chimed in, followed by Pina's snickering. "Did you at least get the extra breadsticks?"

Alexia reached down, picked up your phone, and held it to her face with an arched brow. "Hello, Patri. Hello, Pina."

The line went dead in record time, but not before you heard Patri gasp and Pina yell, "Run, Estrella! Save yourself!"

You groaned, flopping back against the pile of hoodies and sweaters in your closet. "Great. Now I'm on my own. Traitors."

Alexia smirked, sitting cross-legged in front of you. "Let me guess—you bribed them to help you sneak this in?"

You scoffed. "Bribed? Such an ugly word. I prefer incentivized."

Alexia held up the now-empty pizza box. "You know Lucy is going to hear about this, right?"

Your jaw dropped in horror. "You wouldn't!"

"Oh, I would." Alexia grinned wickedly, taking a deliberate bite of the last slice of pizza. "You know how she feels about you eating junk food. She personally picked out that kale salad for you."

"That's exactly why you can't tell her!" you pleaded, sitting upright. "She'll ship me to England just to starve me on cucumber smoothies!"

Alexia pretended to consider this, chewing slowly. "I might keep quiet...but only if you finish the kale salad tomorrow. Without complaints."

Your glare could've melted steel. "You're a monster."

"Your words, not mine," Alexia said smugly, popping the crust into her mouth.

With a heavy, defeated sigh, you muttered, "Fine. I'll eat the salad. But you can't make me eat that yogurt goo again. It's unnatural."

"No promises," Alexia replied with a smirk, grabbing the Sprite. "Now, let's clean this up before Olga finds the evidence and proves me right. I can’t let her be right again."

You groaned, muttering under your breath, "This is my villain origin story."

[endless-ineffabilities]

the sapphire and his sun

Aemond Targaryen x f!reader

Musings about Aemond Targaryen and the only one he truly needs. His one true hope and love. His beloved wife.

a/n : i had to write something after that episode! holy Aemond! This pretty much wrote itself and I could expand it in the future ~ if inspiration strikes true!

word count : <2k ▪︎ masterlist

Aemond used to think his only solace was himself.

His mother had never been much of a mother in her own right, too muddled in the web of deceit that she and Otto spin at their fancy. Criston posited as something of a father figure, but his true loyalty is to his Queen. His brother has always been a wastrel, and his sister wasting away in her own mind.

Aemond never had anyone. Not truly.

Until you.

He still remembers the day you walked into his life, a lone ray of sunlight breaking through the clouds of stormy grey. You appeared to be a frail-hearted young lady, eager to please and to be a devoted wife to her prince. All the while he saw your spirit dimmed from being offered by her House to be Prince Aemond's newly betrothed.

All to secure an alliance.

There was no promise of loyalty or love. Being the prince, he is able to take into bed any whore he wishes. But one look at you - just the one - and all thought of any other lover vanished from his mind.

The first night he was supposed to take you to bed and consummate your marriage, the meek cast in your eyes had disappeared, and in its place a defiant glint he hadn't seen before.

"If I am to be used by my prince, I will do it with the remaining shred of my dignity. I will not cry, I will not beg for a life I have already lost. If all that I am now is a vessel for duty, then so be it." You looked at him, as if for the first time, and with the flames dancing across your face, Aemond would remember that moment as when his sun first shone down on him.

He felt his anger flare for but a moment, his constant fear of being betrayed taking over him. Had everything been an act? Was this to be a marriage of unpleasantry and resentment?

But it quickly dawned on him that the act - the betrayal - was that if his wife was willing to play a fool and dance under his strings like some marionette.

He preferred this. He preferred you.

"Mayhaps I will not bed you tonight, my lady wife. Not yet," he had said, your face slowly twisting in surprise. "I will let you keep more than just your dignity, for you will also possess the choice. Trust that it is only for the time being, at least, until it is imperative that I produce an heir. From this moment forward, I swear to take no else to bed as it is my oath as your husband."

He watched the minute switches in your expression. The wariness. The confusion. The relief. And he already felt it then, as silly as the notion might be, that you had recognised who he really was and that you accepted him.

Aemond was no scoundrel. He wasn't a villain in your story. He wasn't some mighty, untouchable prince.

He was a boy. He was now your husband. He had decency. He had a heart.

And you may not have yet realised, but this heart - wretched as it might have been - he was surrendering it to you.

With the turn of the moon came ill tidings - the death of his father Viserys. Although he was also not much of a father to begin with. Aemond felt numb to it all and there was no time for any emotion to take root, for the conspiracy festered like an open wound. His brother was to be made king.

"Must you go and find him?" you asked. "What if something were to happen?"

He had been blank and unfeeling, unsure of what to make his father's passing. But then, some warmth bloomed in him at your concern. His darling wife cared. He hadn't yet been allowed to indulge in the pleasures of your flesh, but your nights were filled with conversation and confiding.

He took your hands and pressed a kiss atop each one. "It is I who understands Aegon's doings, my wife. Ser Criston is in need of my aid. My brother would sooner sail away than fulfil his duty, which is why he must return at all cost."

"Let him sail away. Let him go and live as he pleases, husband. He never possessed the temperament of a king. You on the other hand... "

His father is dead. His brother could be gone. The enemy encroaches.

But gods be damned, you believed in him.

Aemond didn't know for certain what happiness felt like, he'd never had a single taste of it. And how morbid it was for him to possibly feel it then. But...

"You would make a far better ruler than anyone, and I don't just say that because I am your wife."

Happiness. How fascinating.

How utterly... simple.

For he realised that he had felt it before. Not even in grand moments, no, but in the littlest of things.

He had felt it when you once laughed in pure bliss when he first rode with you atop Vhagar.

When you would help fasten him into his training armour.

When he would watch as you read one of your stories.

His happiness was standing right in front of him. His ray of light, his sun.

And his sun persisted even when he singlehandedly cast the realm into macabre blacks and greens.

Shaken and despondent, he stumbled into your chambers to deliver the news to you first. In the passing hour, everything will change. Will you turn on him too?

"It was an accident," he confessed. "I thought I could control Vhagar, but... she is her own beast. She always has been. I admit I was angry and it was my folly to seek vengeance, but I did not mean to... " His voice broke, and he felt your finger wipe at something wet from his cheek.

He did not even notice that he was crying.

You still said nothing, so he grew frightful. What if nothing he said would ever be enough? No explanation, no apology. He can't lose his light.

"I never held any love for him," he carried on painfully, "but he was my blood. And I... I just - "

"It wasn't your fault, Aemond."

A ray of hope. A remaining strength.

You repeat, "I believe you, and it wasn't your fault."

It mattered not whether his mother would shun him, or his grandsire would frown upon his gruesome action. Rhaenyra was coming for him, as sure as dragonfire, and he would soon have to face the consequences of his actions.

But none of that worried him, not then.

He had to stay alive, however he can, so that he can protect you. It was not remiss of him to overlook that the ladywife of Lucerys' apparent murderer would also have a target on her back.

Aemond knew that the fight was inevitable, and he was going to win it. For you.

In tears, in love, in pale shades of grief, he kissed you with everything he had in him.

A solemn promise. A declaration of love.

"No one shall know the truth of it, my love."

"What do you mean?"

"They will not know, but you will. And that is all that matters. There is no stopping it now and I must face the war head on. What the realm will come to accept is that I intended to fell my nephew and that I do not regret doing so. They have to fear me. This is how I can keep you safe."

"Aemond - "

"Do you trust me?"

The only thing that mattered, the one answer that decided whether he bent or broke. The Seven Kingdoms were to be covered in gloom and shadow, its fields marred with blood and many a broken bone.

His world, however - his world still had light.

"I trust you. With everything I have, I do."

To be tagged in Aemond or Daemon fics, comment on this post !

[theodorenmyth]

Traitor.

Pairings : Theodore nott x GN!Reader

Summary : Theodore Nott once promised to love you forever, but when a new girl arrived, he forgot. Neglected and broken, you couldn’t take it anymore. Days later, your friends found you lifeless in his dorm, blood staining the sheets. Regret came too late—Theo lost you, and now, all he has left is the unbearable weight of your absence.

A/N ; enjoy the angst teehee, listen to Traitor or Reckless while reading this :3

Warnings : Heavy angst, betrayal, mention of blood, major character death, graphic descriptions, emotionally abusive themes, implied self-harm, grief, regret, cheating.

Word count : 1.7k+

Soft candlelight flickered against the walls of the Slytherin common room, casting long shadows over the green and silver decor. It was late, past curfew, but neither of you cared. You sat curled up against Theodore on the couch, his arms wrapped tightly around you as if he never wanted to let go. His scent—cedarwood and fresh parchment—filled your senses, grounding you in a warmth you never wanted to lose.

"I promise you," Theodore whispered against your temple, his voice filled with quiet conviction, "I will always love you. No matter what."

You pulled away slightly, just enough to look into his deep brown eyes, searching for any trace of hesitation. You found none.

"Always?" you teased, a small smile playing at your lips.

His fingers traced along your jaw before cupping your cheek. "Always," he confirmed, pressing a slow, lingering kiss against your lips.

The world outside could burn for all you cared—right here, in his arms, you were safe. Loved. Cherished.

You believed him.

But promises are just words, aren’t they?

──── ୨୧ ──────── ୨୧ ────

It all started with her. The new transfer student. Eleanor fucking Rosier.

She arrived at Hogwarts in the middle of the term, stepping into the Great Hall with her perfect smile and charming laughter. The moment she was sorted into Slytherin, things began to change.

At first, it was small things. Theodore missing study sessions with you, brushing off your hand when you tried to hold his in the corridors.

Then, it got worse.

He stopped waiting for you after class. Stopped sitting next to you in the common room. Stopped kissing you goodnight.

And then came the dagger to the heart.

You had walked into the courtyard one day, searching for him, only to see him laughing with Eleanor—his hand on her waist. The same way he used to touch you.

You froze, the world blurring around you, nausea clawing at your stomach.

"Theo?" Your voice barely carried over the chatter of students.

He turned, his laughter dying when he saw you. Guilt flickered in his eyes for only a second before he schooled his expression into indifference.

"Y/N, what are you doing here?"

Your heart shattered at how casual he sounded, as if you were just some acquaintance interrupting his conversation.

"Looking for you," you admitted, your voice breaking despite your best efforts.

Eleanor gave you a smug smile, stepping closer to Theodore, her presence screaming he’s mine now.

You swallowed the lump in your throat. "Can we talk? Alone?"

Theodore sighed as if this was some great inconvenience, but he nodded. "Fine."

You walked a few steps away from Eleanor, far enough that she couldn’t hear. But you knew she was watching. Waiting.

"What the hell, Theo?" you whispered, fists clenched at your sides.

"What?" he asked, feigning innocence.

"Don't do that," you snapped, voice trembling. "Don't act like you don’t know what I’m talking about. You’ve been ignoring me for weeks. Pretending I don’t exist. And now I find you with her—"

"It’s not like that," he said, but the words felt empty.

You let out a humorless laugh, blinking rapidly to keep your tears from falling. "Then what is it like, Theo? Because from where I’m standing, it looks like I’ve already lost you."

His jaw clenched, eyes darting back to Eleanor for the briefest second. That was all it took for the final crack in your heart to shatter completely.

"You promised," you whispered. "You promised me."

Theodore exhaled sharply, raking a hand through his hair. "Things change, Y/N. People change."

Your vision blurred, a single tear slipping down your cheek before you could stop it.

"Not this easily," you choked out.

But he just looked at you, silent. And that silence told you everything.

You turned and walked away.

He didn’t follow.

──── ୨୧ ──────── ୨୧ ────

You stopped showing up to the Great Hall for meals. Stopped going to the common room. Stopped talking to anyone.

Draco, Blaise, Mattheo, Lorenzo, and Pansy noticed, of course. They asked if you were okay, but you just forced a smile and told them you were fine.

They didn’t believe you.

But they didn’t realize how deep the wound had become until it was too late.

──── ୨୧ ──────── ୨୧ ────

It was Draco who suggested it.

"We should check on Y/N. They haven’t been to the Great Hall in days," he said, looking between the group.

Pansy frowned. "I tried earlier, but their dorm was locked. I just assumed they wanted space."

Lorenzo shifted uncomfortably. "What if something’s wrong?"

The group exchanged uneasy glances before Mattheo spoke up. "Then let’s go find out."

Together, they made their way to Theodore’s dorm—the one you used to spend so many nights in. The door was slightly ajar.

"Hey, Y/N-" Draco pushed it open.

The sight inside made Pansy scream, a strained scream.

You were there, on Theodore’s bed. But you weren’t moving.

Blood pooled beneath you, staining the white sheets in sickening contrast. Your wrist—slashed open. A letter, clutched in your lifeless fingers.

Blaise stumbled back, hand over his mouth.

Mattheo cursed under his breath, voice shaking.

Lorenzo just stared at your lifeless body, his whole body trembling.

Pansy sobbed, pressing a hand to her mouth as if she could hold in the pain.

Draco was the first to move, ripping the letter from your fingers. His hands shook as he read it aloud, voice breaking:

"Theo,"

"You promised me forever."

"You lied."

Silence.

Then, chaos.

"Get Snape!" Mattheo barked, already bolting out the door.

"Find Professor McGonagall and Professor Dumbledore!" Lorenzo added, voice thick with emotion.

Blaise couldn’t stop staring at you. The warmth was already draining from your skin.

Pansy sobbed harder, whispering, "No, no, no..." over and over again.

──── ୨୧ ──────── ୨୧ ────

The professors arrived in a whirlwind of robes.

Snape’s face was unreadable, but his hands clenched at his sides.

McGonagall gasped, hand over her heart. "Merlin..."

Dumbledore’s usual calm was shattered, his blue eyes filled with sorrow. "Too late," he murmured.

Too late.

Theodore arrived then, panting, confused. "What’s going—"

Then, he saw you.

And the world.. stopped.

His breath hitched, his body locking in place. His gaze fell to the blood-stained letter still clutched in Draco’s hands.

"You promised me forever."

"You lied."

A strangled noise escaped his throat as he staggered forward, but Snape blocked him with a firm grip. "Don’t," the professor warned, voice deadly quiet.

Theodore’s chest heaved, his mind racing. No. No, no, no.

This wasn’t real.

You weren’t gone.

You couldn’t be gone.. right?

But the silence screamed the truth louder than words ever could.

And somewhere in the background, the soft hum of magic played a familiar melody—

"God, I wish that you had thought this through before I went and fell in love with you."

──── ୨୧ ──────── ୨୧ ────

A day after your death.

The world kept moving. The sun still rose, the students still laughed, and Hogwarts remained the same. But for Theodore Nott, everything had stopped.

Your funeral had been small, private—only those who had truly loved you had been allowed to attend. Pansy had sobbed into Draco’s shoulder, Blaise had stared blankly ahead, Lorenzo had refused to speak, and Mattheo… Mattheo had nearly punched Theodore in the face when he had shown up.

“You don’t deserve to be here,” he had spat, his voice thick with fury. “You let them die.”

Theodore had taken the hit, let Mattheo’s fist hit his face because he deserved it.

Because Mattheo was right.

As the coffin had been lowered, Theodore had gripped the edge, his entire body trembling. "I'm sorry," he had whispered, too soft for anyone to hear. "I'm so sorry."

But the dead did not listen.

Day Four.

Your dorm had been left untouched.

No one dared enter—not even Pansy. But Theodore had. He had slipped inside in the middle of the night, hands shaking as he reached for the sweater you had always worn.

It still smelled like you.

He clutched it to his chest, burying his face in the fabric as sobs ripped through him. "Why?" His voice cracked, broken. "Why didn't you tell me how bad it was?"

But deep down, he knew you had tried. You had begged for his attention, for his love, for something—anything—but he had been too blind, too foolish.

Now, the only thing left of you was the ghost of your scent and the unbearable weight of silence.

Day Seven

The Great Hall felt different without you. The chair beside Theodore remained vacant, untouched, a reminder of the space you had once filled.

People whispered. They stared. But no one spoke to him.

Even Pansy, who had once been his closest friend, refused to look at him. Draco had barely spared him a glance, Blaise had turned his back, and Lorenzo had muttered something under his breath about how some things were unforgivable.

And maybe they were right. Maybe he didn’t deserve forgiveness.

He pushed his plate away, appetite long gone. His hands were cold, his chest tight. No amount of warmth could shake the chill that had settled into his bones.

"You’re mine," he had once promised you.

But he had let you go.

Day Twelve

He had written it a hundred times. Over and over.

"I'm sorry."

"I love you."

"I was an idiot. I should have seen it. I should have held you. I should have stayed."

But what good were words now?

You were gone. And he had to live with the fact that he had driven you to it.

He folded the letter, pressing his forehead against the parchment. "I wish I could trade places with you."

But wishes were just words, and words meant nothing anymore.

Day Thirty

He had avoided it. Avoided your name, your memory, the way his heart clenched every time he walked past the places you had once stood.

But that night, alone in his dorm, he broke.

"Theo," you had once whispered, tracing his jaw with your fingertips. "Promise me you’ll never forget me."

And now, as he sat in the dark, your blood still staining the edges of his nightmares, he whispered back:

"I could never forget you."

And for the first time in a long time—Theodore Nott wept.

[stylesispunk]

"You're the loss of my life"

outbreak! Joel Miller x f!reader

part 2 here

summary: you and Joel went from one kiss to getting married to becoming strangers.

w.c: 5k>

Warnings: angst, implications of cheating, mentions miscarriage. Perhaps some grammar mistakes because no proofreading oops!

a/n: I know everything I write is angst but is what it fits in my mind right now. Reblogs and comments are always appreciated 💌

Dividers by @/saradika-graphics

The day you killed yourself, you woke up. The salty tears streamed down to your ears. There was a pity gaze you didn't want to meet, looking down at you, perhaps asking why. 

You didn't want to talk, even less to answer the pitiful comments from people who thought they had a say on all this.

You remember the fall. You remember Joel running to Sophie to save her life instead of yours, instead of both. You and the baby who was inside you. The one who wasn't there anymore because of its tiny form didn't resist the impact of your fall.

What a tragedy.

Sadness overcame you in the aftermath. In a world like this, treating your wounded body wasn't as hard as treating your heart, which became a frozen glass shell.

The days that followed were a blur, each moment blending into the next, a never-ending cycle of grief and numbness. You avoided mirrors, hating the reflection of a person you no longer recognized. The hollow eyes, the lifeless expression—they belonged to a ghost, not to you.

Joel tried to talk to you, his words a constant hum in the background. "I'm sorry," he'd say. "I didn't know what to do." But his apologies were meaningless, lost in the chasm that had formed between you. He perhaps saved Sophie because he loved her more, because in that split second, she was the one who mattered.

Not you anymore.

You spent hours in the nursery, the room you had so carefully prepared. The crib, the tiny clothes, the stuffed animals—all mocking reminders of what could have been. Your hands would linger on the soft blankets, tears falling silently onto the fabric. It was in that room that you felt the closest to the baby you had lost—a place where the field of dreams you had died.

One night, as you sat in the dark, the pain was too much to bear, and you decided you couldn't go on. The world was too cruel, too indifferent to people's suffering. You wrote a letter, your final words, to those who might wonder why. It was brief—just a few sentences explaining the unbearable weight of your grief and the unending ache in your heart. Meeting your family and beloved ones in heaven sounded better than keeping yourself prisoner in a world that would never be a safe place for anyone.

You took the pills, each one a step closer to peace. As you drifted off, you felt a strange sense of calm, a release from the torment that had consumed you. You hoped that in death, you would find the solace that eluded you in life.

But then you woke up again. The salty tears streamed down to your ears. There was a pity gaze you didn't want to meet, looking down at you, perhaps asking why.

Waking up again felt like a cruel joke. You were back in the same world, with the same pain. But something was different. Joel was there, his eyes red and swollen from crying. He took your hand, his touch hesitant and afraid.

"I thought I lost you," he whispered, his voice breaking.

You turned away, unable to meet his gaze. The wound was still too fresh, and the betrayal was still too raw to face them.

Joel's gaze burned in your back, and the smell of death was in the room. You held your breath for a moment. You wanted to smell the flowers and the baby smell of the little head of your baby, which you would never get to meet.

"Why?" he questioned, and for the first time, his voice did soothe your wounds; instead, it caused your blood to boil inside you and irritated you.

"I want Ellie here, not you."

"Baby- “

"Go." Your voice could slice Joel’s skin.

He recoiled as if struck, his face crumpling with pain. He stood there for a moment, looking lost and broken. "Please, don't push me away," he pleaded, but you couldn't hear him through the rage and grief that consumed you.

"Leave," you repeated, your voice cold and final.

Joel's shoulders slumped in defeat. He turned and walked out, the door closing softly behind him. The silence that followed was suffocating, a void that threatened to swallow you whole. You curled into a ball, the tears flowing freely now—a torrent of pain and loss.

“Go to Sophie,” you whispered to the void, allowing yourself to cry.

Time seemed to stand still in that moment; your sobs were the only sound in the quiet room. You didn't know how long you lay there, but eventually, you heard a soft knock on the door.

Ellie's voice was hesitant when she called out your name, filled with a mix of anger and concern. "Can I come in?"

You didn't answer, but she opened the door anyway, slipping inside and closing it behind her. She looked at you, her expression torn between fury and sadness.

"Why did you do it?" she demanded, her voice shaking. "Why did you try to leave me too?"

You looked up at her, seeing the pain in her eyes and mirroring your own. "I... I didn't think I could handle it anymore," you admitted, your voice breaking. "I lost everything, Ellie. I lost you, I lost Joel, and I lost the baby. I didn't know how to go on."

Ellie walked over to you, her steps hesitant. "You didn't lose me. I'm still here," she said, her voice softening. "But you almost did. And I'm so mad at Joel. He should have saved you both. He should have done more."

“Do you think Joel doesn’t love me anymore?” you sobbed.  The pain in your voice broke Ellie’s heart.

She kneeled beside you, taking your hands in hers. "I don’t know what’s on his mind now," she admitted, her voice trembling. "But I do know he loves you. He's just... broken too. We're all broken."

You pulled her into a tight embrace, both of you crying together, sharing the weight of your grief. “I lost my baby because of him.”

Ellie held you tighter, her own tears mingling with yours. "Cry,” she said softly. "Blaming him won't bring the baby back. It won't help us heal. We have to find a way to forgive and move forward."

The two of you stayed like that for a long time, finding strange solace in each other’s arms. The pain was still there, raw and overwhelming.

You were standing in the small kitchen of your home in Jackson, the dilapidated walls a far cry from the security of the life you once knew. But for a moment, you allowed yourself to dream of something better. Your hands trembled slightly as you held the small, worn piece of paper—a positive pregnancy test, a symbol of new life in a world consumed by death.

Joel walked in, weary from a long day of patrol. His eyes lit up when he saw you, but they quickly clouded with concern as he noticed the look on your face.

"What's going on?" he asked, setting down his backpack and walking over to you.

You took a deep breath, trying to steady your nerves. "Joel, I have something to tell you,” you began, your voice shaking. "I'm pregnant."

For a moment, there was silence. Joel's expression shifted from confusion to shock, and then to something darker—fear and maybe even anger.

"Pregnant?" he repeated, his voice rising slightly. "In this world? How could you be so irresponsible?"

The words hit you like a physical blow, your earlier excitement and hope crumbling into dust. "Irresponsible?" you echoed, your own voice rising defensively. "It takes two people to do this, you know.”

He shook his head, running a hand through his hair. "You know what it’s like out there! Every day is a fight for survival. We can barely keep ourselves alive, and now you want to bring a baby into this?”

“I know this is not the best way, but what do you want me to do?” 

“You know what.”

Tears welled up in your eyes, but you fought them back, unwilling to show weakness at his suggestion. "I know it's dangerous, Joel. But it's also a chance for us to have a future. To have a reason to keep going."

Joel's face softened for a moment, but then the hard lines returned. "And what if we can't protect it? What if we lose it? Bringing a baby into this world... it's a death sentence."

You turned away, unable to look at him. "I thought you'd be happy," you whispered, the tears finally spilling over. "I thought this would be something good for us."

He reached out, but you stepped back, the distance between you growing. "I'm sorry," he said, his voice softer now, but the damage was done. "I just... I can't see how this can work."

You clutched the pregnancy test to your chest, tainted by doubt and fear. “Are you mad because of the baby, or what would Sophie think of this?" you questioned quietly.

Joel's expression faltered, and he looked away, unable to meet your gaze. The mention of Sophie seemed to strike a chord, bringing a new layer of tension to the room.

"Sophie has nothing to do with this," he muttered, but the words lacked conviction.

"Doesn't she?" You pressed, your voice rising. "She's always in the back of your mind, Joel. Every decision you make, every risk you take, it's always about protecting her."

"She's my partner in patrol,” he shot back, his voice growing louder. "I’m just as protective as I am with everyone here! I can't fail her, or you. But this world... it's no place for a child."

You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. "I know you're scared, Joel. So am I. But we can't live our lives in fear. This baby is a chance for us to have something real, something good. Don't you see that?"

Joel's shoulders slumped, the weight of your words pressing down on him. He sighed, running a hand through his hair again. "I do see it," he admitted quietly. "But it doesn't change the reality we live in. I just... I don't know if I can take that risk."

The room fell silent, the tension hanging thick in the air. You turned away from him, your heart heavy with a mixture of hope and despair. "I'm going to do everything I can to protect this baby," you said firmly, your voice steady despite the tears streaming down your face. "With or without you."

Joel looked at you, pain and conflict warring in his eyes. He opened his mouth to say something but then closed it, shaking his head. He turned and walked out, leaving you standing alone in the kitchen, your heart breaking as the small symbol of hope in your hand seemed to grow heavier by the second.

The “I do” and vows seemed so foreign in the back of your mind now.

A week had passed since your almost-death. The days were a blur of grief and small steps toward recovery. Ellie remained close; her presence was a constant reminder that there was still something worth fighting for. In your head, you felt guilt and pity, not strong enough to keep believing you were the same woman who arrived here. You were the gosh of a lively fighter who became a lifeless frame.

Maria approached you in the cafeteria, where you were trying to busy yourself. She had always been a pillar of strength in Jackson and a calming presence for you since the day you, Joel, and Ellie arrived.

"Hey," she said softly, her voice gentle. "How are you holding up?"

You shrugged, not trusting yourself to speak without breaking down. Maria sighed, pulling up a chair beside you. "I know it's hard. But you need to take things slow. You can't rush healing."

You nodded, though her words felt distant. The weight of your grief was a constant presence, making everything seem surreal. "I just... I don't know how to keep going. I don’t know how to do this again," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper as Sarah’s lifeless frame came to your mind.

You had lost another child.

Maria reached out, squeezing your hand. "One day at a time," she said. "And remember, it's okay to lean on others. You don't have to do this alone."

You wanted to believe her, but the pain was too fresh and overwhelming. As the days turned into a week, you forced yourself to go through the motions, trying to find some semblance of normalcy. One afternoon, you found yourself in the cafeteria of Jackson. The noise and bustle were a stark contrast to the turmoil inside you.

Maria was there, talking to a few people, and she caught your eye, giving you an encouraging smile. You tried to smile back, but it felt forced. The weight of your loss was a constant shadow, making everything seem heavier.

As you moved through the line, Maria came over, her expression concerned. "Hey, remember what I said. Take it slow. You don't have to do everything at once."

Something inside you snapped. The pressure, the grief, the guilt—it all came crashing down. "Take it slow?" you repeated, your voice rising. "How am I supposed to take it slow when everything is falling apart? How am I supposed to keep going when I not only lost my baby but also my husband?!”

The cafeteria fell silent, all eyes turning towards you. You could feel the weight of their stares, the shock, and the pity. Your breath came in short, ragged gasps as the enormity of your outburst sank in.

Maria reached out, but you recoiled, your emotions spiraling out of control. "I don't need to take it slow!" you shouted, tears streaming down your face. "I need... I need..." You didn't even know what you needed; the pain was too overwhelming to articulate.

Joel was there in an instant, his face etched with worry. "Hey, hey," he said softly, reaching out to you. "It's okay. You're okay."

But you weren't okay. You felt like you were drowning, the weight of your grief pulling you under. You shook your head, backing away from him. "Don't touch me for fuck's sake! I don't want your dirty hands on me!”

Joel’s eyes glazed, but you didn’t care. He had become the best of the man you had married ten years ago.

Joel's eyes glazed, but you didn’t care. He had become the ghost of the man you had married ten years ago.

He froze, the words hitting him like a physical blow. The cafeteria's silence deepened, the tension thickening. You saw the pain in his eyes, a reflection of your own turmoil, but it did nothing to quell the anger and sorrow boiling inside you.

"I can't do this," you said, your voice breaking as you took a step back, your chest heaving with sobs. "I can't keep pretending that everything is going to be okay. Because it's not! Nothing is okay!"

Ellie pushed through the crowd, her face pale but determined. "Mom," she said, her voice steady despite the fear in her eyes. "We're here. We're all here. We'll get through this."

Joel looked helplessly at Ellie, then back at you. "Please," he whispered, his voice barely audible. "Just let us help."

You looked at him, the man who had once been your rock, now just a shadow of the person you had relied on. The anger still simmered beneath the surface, but Ellie’s presence brought a flicker of something else—a reminder of why you needed to keep fighting.

Ellie wrapped her arms around you, holding you tightly as you sobbed into her shoulder. The room remained silent; the weight of your grief was palpable. But in that moment, you felt a glimmer of hope—a reminder that you weren’t alone and that you had people who loved you and who were willing to help you carry the burden.

Joel stepped closer, his hand hovering uncertainly at your back, not daring to touch you without permission. "I’m so sorry," he murmured, his voice choked with emotion. "For everything. I’m so, so sorry."

You took a deep, shuddering breath, trying to steady yourself. "You killed him," you snapped, your voice barely more than a whisper. "I can’t forgive you.”

Joel's face crumpled, the weight of your words hitting him like a physical blow. He took a step back, his hand dropping to his side. The silence in the room grew heavier, and the tension was palpable.

"I know," he said, his voice barely audible. "I know I can never undo what I've done. I live with that guilt every day."

Your anger burned hot and fierce, like a wildfire consuming everything in its path. "You killed him," you repeated, the words tasting bitter on your tongue. "And you expect me to just forgive you? To move on like nothing happened?"

Joel shook his head, his eyes filled with sorrow. "No," he said softly. "I don't expect you to forgive me. I don't even know if I can forgive myself. But I want to try. I want to make things right as much as I can."

You looked at him, the man who had once been your partner, your confidant, now a stranger in the wreckage of your shattered life. The anger still burned hot within you, but beneath it, there was a flicker of something else—pain, sorrow, and a desperate longing for the life you had lost.

"I don't know if I can do this," you admitted, your voice barely more than a whisper. "I don't know if I have the strength to forgive you."

Ellie's arms remained wrapped around you, a comforting presence amidst the turmoil. She gently guided you away from the cafeteria, her touch reassuring as you stumbled through the hallways of Jackson. The weight of your grief felt heavier with each step, but Ellie's presence gave you a glimmer of strength.

As you reached the door, Ellie helped you inside, guiding you to the small couch in the living area. She sat beside you, her eyes filled with concern.

"Are you okay?" she asked softly, her voice filled with worry.

You shook your head, the tears still streaming down your face. "I don't know," you admitted, your voice hoarse. "I just... I don't know how to deal with all of this."

Ellie reached out, taking your hand in hers. "We'll figure it out together," she said, her voice steady despite the tremor in her hands. "I promise."

You squeezed her hand tightly, grateful for her unwavering support. "Thank you, Ellie," you whispered, your voice choked with emotion.

She leaned in, wrapping you in a tight hug. "I love you, Mom," she said softly. "And I'll always be here for you, no matter what."

Tears pricked at your eyes as you hugged her back, her words echoing in your mind. "I love you too, Ellie," you whispered, your voice breaking with emotion.

As you and Ellie held each other close, the weight of her love and support was a balm to your wounded soul. But amidst the embrace, a knock on the door interrupted the moment, causing both of you to startle.

Ellie pulled back slightly, her eyes searching yours with concern. "Should I... Should I get that?" she asked, her voice hesitant.

You shook your head, wiping away your tears as you tried to compose yourself. "No, it's okay," you said, your voice still shaky. "I'll go."

Ellie nodded, giving your hand a reassuring squeeze before standing up from the couch. "I'll be in my room if you need me," she said softly, giving you a lingering look before leaving the living area.

As Ellie disappeared down the hallway, you took a deep breath, steeling yourself for what was to come. With trembling hands, you made your way to the door and opened it, revealing Joel standing on the other side.

His expression was a mix of worry and remorse as he looked at you, his eyes filled with a silent plea for forgiveness. "Can we talk?" he asked softly, his voice barely above a whisper.

You hesitated, the memories of your outburst in the cafeteria still fresh in your mind. But despite the anger and pain, there was a part of you that longed for closure, for a chance to understand.

"Okay," you said finally, stepping aside to let him in.

Joel entered the house, his footsteps hesitant as he crossed the threshold. The living room felt suffocatingly small as you both stood there, the weight of your shared grief hanging heavy in the air.

"I... I don't even know where to start," Joel said, his voice strained with emotion.

You took a deep breath, trying to find the words to express the whirlwind of emotions swirling inside you. "I just... I need to understand," you said, your voice barely more than a whisper. "I need to know why you did what you did."

The sun was setting, casting long shadows across the abandoned streets of the city. You and Joel had been scavenging for supplies, your footsteps echoing in the eerie silence that seemed to permeate every corner of the world.

You had felt uneasy all day, a knot of jealousy and insecurity twisting in your stomach at the sight of Sophie, her laughter ringing in your ears like a taunt.

You had implored Joel to come. You just wanted to feel as worthy and important to him as you used to, even in your state. But despite your misgivings, you had pushed them aside, focusing on the task at hand, determined to prove yourself capable and worthy of Joel's love and attention.

And then it happened.

If Joel had been more careful, he wouldn’t have allowed you to come. But he didn’t want to make you feel worthless.

A horde of infected had descended upon you, their snarls and growls a chilling symphony of death and despair. You had frozen; your mind was unable to comprehend the danger until it was too late.

But Joel had acted, his movements swift and sure as he pulled you away from the oncoming onslaught, his grip firm and unyielding.

And then he had seen her.

Sophie was trapped beneath the rubble, her screams echoing in the chaos as the infected closed in, their hunger insatiable.

And in that moment, something inside Joel shifted.

He had hesitated, torn between saving you and saving her, his eyes flickering with indecision, before he made his choice.

He had chosen Sophie.

He jumped off the horse, leaving you alone. You had watched in horror as he raced towards her, leaving you behind, your heart shattering into a million jagged pieces as the truth of his betrayal washed over you like a tidal wave.

You had screamed, your voice lost in the cacophony of the chaos, your tears mingling with the blood and dust that coated your skin.

And then the world went dark.

You fell from the horse, hitting the cobblestones hard. The pain was sharp and intense, searing through your body like a white-hot flame. You could hear the distant sound of screams and growls, the world around you spinning in a haze of confusion and agony.

Through the haze, you could dimly make out Joel's voice, calling out your name in desperation. But his words felt distant, a mere echo in the darkness that threatened to consume you.

And then, as suddenly as it had begun, the chaos subsided, leaving behind a heavy silence that pressed down on you like a weight. You tried to move, to call out, but your body felt numb and unresponsive. Your world went black.

"I need to know why, Joel," you repeated, your voice trembling with emotion. "Why did you choose her over us? Why did you leave me behind?"

Tears welled up in your eyes as you waited for his answer, the weight of his betrayal still fresh in your mind, a wound that refused to heal.

Joel's gaze dropped to the floor, his shoulders slumping with the weight of his guilt. "I... I don't know," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "I panicked. I made a mistake."

Anger surged within you at his words, a fiery rage that threatened to consume you. "A mistake?" you repeated, your voice rising with indignation. "You left me to die, Joel. You left our child to die. How could you call that a mistake?"

Joel flinched at your words, the pain in his eyes mirroring your own. "I'm sorry," he whispered, his voice choked with emotion. "I'm so, so sorry. You were my wife; I should.”

"Were you my wife?” You sobbed, “Since when is that in the past, Joel?”

Joel's words hung in the air like a heavy weight, his admission of guilt and regret piercing through the veil of anger and pain that enveloped you. But amidst the turmoil, there was a flicker of something else—a longing for understanding, for closure, for a chance to heal.

"You are my wife," Joel repeated clearly, his voice trembling with emotion. "I should have protected you. I should have been there for you. But I failed. I failed both of you."

His words stirred something deep within you—a wellspring of grief and longing that threatened to overwhelm you. "And now?" you whispered, your voice barely more than a hoarse whisper. "What am I to you, Joel?"

Joel looked at you, his eyes filled with sorrow. Not uttering a word.

“Do you have feelings for Sophie?” You asked, fear creeping to your bones, not wanting to hear the answer.

Joel's silence spoke volumes; his hesitation was a weighty presence in the air between you. You held your breath, afraid of what his answer might be and of the truth that lay hidden in the depths of his gaze.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Joel spoke, his voice barely above a whisper. "I... I don't know," he admitted, his words heavy with uncertainty. "

“You love her,” you stated. “That’s why you chose her.”

Joel's silence in response to your accusation only confirmed your worst fears, leaving a bitter taste in your mouth and a heavy ache in your chest. The truth hung in the air, stark and undeniable, like a shadow cast by the setting sun.

Tears stung your eyes as you struggled to process the betrayal, the pain of Joel's admission cutting through you like a knife. The realization that he might love Sophie and might have chosen her over you and your unborn child was a blow that threatened to shatter you completely.

"I can't do this," you whispered, your voice barely more than a broken plea. "I can't stay here, knowing... knowing that I'll never be enough for you. Living in a world like this is already hell, but you made it even worse. You made me feel disgusted by myself, worthless, and ashamed," you shouted. "You're a fucking coward."

Joel flinched at your words, the truth of your accusations cutting through him like a knife. For a moment, it seemed as though he might speak, might try to defend himself, but he remained silent, his gaze fixed on the floor.

"Hate me; I'll wait. Until you forgive," he finally said, his voice barely more than a whisper.

You shook your head, tears streaming down your face as you struggled to find the words to express the depth of your pain. "Forgive you?" you chuckled bitterly. "I won't."

There are two types of grievances. The one who met the spirits in death and the one who met with the ghosts of someone who should have died in front of you. You still couldn't comprehend which one was worse. Both were painful, and both watered your eyes. But having the ghost of someone who brought you warm, freezing your aura while slipping from your grasp, leaving you crying to yourself till your head tired up and there wasn't anything left that fell into the voiceless world of sleeping, where in your dreams, you were still the same woman in the white dress, marrying the love of your life.

"I needed my husband! I need him now! And the worst thing is, I still need you, but you're just a fucking phantom."

"I'm still here," he exclaimed.

"No, you're not.".

"It wasn't even born!" Joel said.

The silence met souls leaving the lovers's bodies.

You were left speechless, tears ricocheting. Your heart was clenched in pain, and your throat felt like it was being torn apart by a monster.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean-"

"Save it," you spat. You were exhausted, and your heart hurt so much that you couldn't even feel it beating anymore. "Sorry if grieving my baby was such a burden to you."

As you turned back to face Joel, the weight of your words hung heavy in the air, a painful reminder of the gaping chasm of loss that lay between you.

"Let me remind you of something, Joel," you said, your voice trembling with emotion. "Losing Sarah was the worst thing that happened to us, and just imagine how it is for me to know I carried her and this baby just to lose them both."

Joel's expression softened, a flicker of remorse crossing his features as he looked at you, his eyes filled with regret. "I know," he said softly, his voice heavy with sorrow.

"I'll move out," Joel said suddenly, his voice tinged with resignation. "So you can bring your new lover here and make all the babies you want."

His words cut through you like a knife, a painful reminder of the irreparable rift that had formed between you. "You know what really broke me?" you sobbed, the words tumbling out in a rush of emotion. "You... you're the biggest loss of my life, but as much as I love you, I despise you the same. You're the loss of my life I will be yours. There's no way back from this, Joel."

As the weight of your words hung heavy in the air, you reached for the wedding band adorning your finger, a symbol of a love that had once been unbreakable but now lay shattered at your feet.

With trembling hands, you removed the ring, feeling its weight in your palm as you stared at it, the memories of happier times flashing before your eyes like a cruel mockery of the present.

Without a second thought, you flung the ring towards Joel, watching as it spun through the air before landing at his feet with a soft thud.

"There," you said, your voice choked with emotion. "Take it. Take everything that remains of us."

Joel looked down at the ring, his expression unreadable as he reached out to pick it up and his fingers trembling as he held it in his palm.

"I don't want this," he whispered, his voice barely more than a hoarse whisper.

But you shook your head, tears streaming down your face as you stared at him, the pain of his betrayal a raw wound that refused to heal. "I don't want it either," you said, your voice barely more than a broken whisper. "But it's all we have left."

And with that, you turned away, unable to bear the weight of his presence any longer. The wounds he had inflicted upon you ran deep, a festering wound that refused to heal.

[lowkeyerror]

Just Hold Me

Rio Vidal x Reader

Word Count: 1k

Notes: Fluff x 100, comfort x 1 million, very soft

Summary: You had a rough day and Rio wants to comfort you, but she wonders if she's doing enough.

An: The yearly fluff I post after Christmas. Soft as a bunny's tail.

Masterlist

Love was such a strange thing. Tangled up in emotions like hurt, betrayal, and longing, but also bathed in happiness, care, and optimism. It was complex enough with normal people, but you had fallen for Death itself.

Loving Rio was like loving a hurricane. It was wild and even if some things were predictable, you couldn’t always prepare for what was to come. Having a trail of destruction behind her was a part of her job.

It was something she only found shame in when she was with you. She didn’t want you to think that of her. The truth being, that you never could. It was what had drawn you to her in the first place. Death didn’t scare you, not at all. Falling into her embrace felt like destiny. You’d tell her, but Rio was never one for fate, she said if anything it was an omen.

She was so scared of the consequences when it came to being with you. She tried to go against her urges, but you were patient. In her mind you’d forget her and move on with someone more suitable, but you never did. You knew what you wanted and it was her.

There would never be anyone to come close.

Rio was a good girlfriend. She was affectionate, and as attentive as she could be. There were still some things that she was uncertain about when it came to her emotions. After all she had only learned them from her limited experience in other relationships and observing others. She had seen a lot, but that didn’t mean she understood it all.

So when she appeared in your home to find your curled up on the couch, hidden by a blanket, she simply tilted her head to the side before approaching you.

“Love?”

You heard her voice, but felt like you couldn’t move or speak. Instead you let out a soft hum in response. It caught Rio off guard, she was still assessing the situation, but it wasn’t looking good.

She stepped into your point of view, crouching so that she could meet your eyes. She was taken aback by the sadness in them. The bags under your eyes were dark and heavy. Rio pouted seeing the red hues scattered in them.

She reaches out cautiously to hold your face in her hands. Her touch was warm, it made you briefly close your eyes.

“What happened?” Rio’s voice was soft, as if she was scared of pushing.

However you weren’t like the lovers of her past. You wouldn’t push her away, so you took a deep breath trying to muster up your voice.

“Hold me,” you managed to murmur.

Rio was quick to shed her work clothes and create more comfortable attire for the sake of both of you. You briefly sat up on the couch, only enough for the Green Witch to slip behind you. Once she was behind you, you tugged her arm over your body. You held it in place keeping her hold on you tight.

Rio places a delicate kiss on the back of your neck, “I'm not going anywhere."

For a while you stay in that position silently. Neither of you break through the quiet. Rio thinks she’s eventually going to hear your breathing level but it doesn’t.

“Long day,” you mumble against her hand.

“I think I know something about those,” Rio threaded her fingers through yours.

You let out a small laugh, “I bet you do.”

You feel the time shift again. You turn to face Rio who scans over your features again.

“Is there something I can do?”

You see the worry in her eyes and it makes your heart swell. The smallest furrow in her brow, the usual mischief in her eyes is gone, her tone is missing the teasing edge.

“Just this,” you bury your head in the crease of her neck.

You inhale deeply, her scent always grounds you. That specific scent of earth freshly hit with rain. You could get lost in her aroma, it almost makes you feel like you’re outside. You can feel her skin cooling, which only submerges you deeper into the fantasy.

Now both of her hands hold you. She kisses the top of your head. Rio is still uncertain about it she should be doing more for you. This didn't feel like enough. She wanted to destroy whatever it was that made your day so hard. Seeing you in this state was tugging at her heart strings.

She began to trace patterns into your back. You didn't mind, you like having her hands on you, being this close together. It helped you feel safe.

“Are you sure it’s enough,” Rio whispers, insecurities gnawing at her.

You pull back just enough to look at her, “Rio Vidal you’ll always be enough for me.”

Your words knocked the wind right out of her, she felt her face getting warm under your gaze, but she wasn’t trying to hide it from you.

“I’d do anything for you, you know that? Legal or illegal. If I need to go fuck up your boss I will. If I need to pop your annoying coworkers tire, I will. If you needed me to hunt down a Karen I-"

“I know,” you cut her off.

“All of the above?” Rio wriggles her eyebrows playfully.

You move to sit up and she sits beside you.

You rub a hand over your face, “Work was fine, I guess. A few difficult customers, but nothing out of the ordinary. I don’t really know why, but today just felt harder to get through than other days. Nothings wrong, I just feel a little… down.”

Rio listen intently as you speak. When you finish she nods slowly, “I think I know what you need.”

“You do?”

Rio nods with a little more certainty, “Let me cook for us. We’ll order some snacks and pop in a movie. We can keep cuddling too. And tomorrow, I think you should call out. We’ll spend the whole day together, I know all the best parks for walks. How does that sound?”

You let out a sigh of relief, “That sounds perfect. I love you.”

Rio places a gentle kiss on your lips, “I love you too.”

Rio reluctantly begins to stand, but you pull her back down, “Just hold me a bit longer?”

She lays her back flat on the couch and pulls you on top of her, stealing another peck.

“Always.”

[blueberrypancakesworld]

I am yours and never ours

Caracalla x wife!reader

warning : Spoilers for Gladiator ii, hurt/comfort, kissing, implied mother issues, mention of violence, cuddling, no use of y/n

Summary : It was a mistake to kill the hero, to not give him the mercy he should have received. The riots a sign of overthrow and fall and entrenched in the palace the two brothers and Caracalla's wife, nerves are thin and after a forgetting of temper it seems only love can calm a frightened Caracalla to bring order to the situation.

info : omg the scene was so sad and tense, the bond between the two, i'm fully in my gladiator era. Have fun reading :)

masterlist

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It had only taken a fraction of a moment, the sun had been right over the Colosseum, giving everyone a chance to get their bearings. Shouts of cheers, boos and cries mingled with the loud voice of Rome.

The emperors sitting impatiently on their chairs, the younger one screaming for death at last, the older one seeming to grow more agitated with every breath, and in the centre the weeping princess as the arrows pierced her beloved.

Justus Acacius was dead, unjustly killed despite the surrender of both fighters, a death that had the emperors rejoicing, but a death that only a few hours later at nightfall had the people roaring.

What at first was still disbelief and shock had become a popular uprising, at the latest with the tumult, the flames raging in the streets and the numerous courageous citizens.

The two brothers also became aware of the uprising and the royal family withdrew in disbelief and indignation to avoid being drawn into it.

Even the Sun of Rome, Caracalla's wife, could not reassure the people who loved her; they seemed to hate her as much as her husband and brother-in-law.

Looking out from behind the solid walls of the palace, she saw the metre-high flames, saw the angry crowd and the few troops of the emperors who could hardly do anything.

Gods have mercy on us she thought and took another sip from her glass as she heard more screams of death and moved away from the window, going back to her family but seeing only the same tension in Geta.

Rarely had she seen him like this if he didn't burst under the pressure at any moment so she was sure he would storm out himself, ,,There may be many but they don't have the weapons and courage of our troops" she said calmly and tried to pour Geta another glass but he turned away.

His gaze had barely noticed her so absorbed he seemed to be thinking about how he could save them all, ,,Ungrateful" he hissed as he looked out and saw nothing but treachery.

The silence in the palace was interrupted only by the footsteps of Macrinus, who withdrew in her presence, she did not trust him and he did not trust her, but her concern lay more with her beloved Caracalla.

She glanced at her husband, who was sitting on a lectus and feeding Dundus his little monkey to calm himself down somehow. However, he looked just as miserable as his brother, they both looked tired, exhausted and completely overwhelmed by everything.

She gave him a smile, trying to keep him amused, ,,You'll all see blood," Caracalla said, returning the smile - it was to be expected that he wanted a whole bloodlust. A betrayal hurts deeply.

Even if it hurt inside her, helplessness and fear had a grip on her too…only Dundus the monkey seemed happy as he let out another little screech when he got a grape.

A mistake.

All of a sudden all she could see was Geta hurrying around, ,,Get that annoying monkey out of here!" shouting at his brother and slapping the wine in his brother's face.

Startled, she gasped, calling out Geta's name in warning, his eyes filled with anger and remorse, she knew it was the situation, knew the tension but nothing would help.

As she hurried over to Caracalla and gently placed her hand on his shoulder, he looked more like a weeping dog than an emperor, ,,Come my king, we should feed Dundus somewhere else" she said, helping him up slightly and telling him to go ahead into the throne room.

She walked past Geta who just looked down shaking his head and cursing himself, he had taken it too far. ,,I'll be right back why don't you get us some wine Macrinus" she said and didn't bother because his fake smile told her all she needed to know as he disappeared and she sighed and hurried on her way.

Her footsteps echoed in the empty corridors and the throne room, Dundus shrieked and she heard the sniffle, ,,Love? My King Caracalla, where are you?" she asked quietly, swallowing down the lump rising in her throat as she thought back to the episodes he had already had.

She and Geta loved him but this madness would be the downfall of them all. She continued to walk around the room, first looking behind the throne where he sometimes hid, but he wasn't sitting there.

,,Caracalla? It's your sun, do you understand?" she asked and finally saw the blond head of hair peeking out from behind one of the curtains behind which he had curled up.

She heard his crying, the sniffling as he peeked out from behind it and she got down on her knees, ,,It's-It's all right, come here to me, you know who I am, don't you?" she continued to ask calmly, hiding the slight trembling in her hands under the fabric of her clothes as she saw the man she loved so fragile.

Slowly he emerged from his ‘hiding place’ and nodded cautiously as he crawled towards her, ,,You…you're my wife," he sniffled his words barely intelligible as Dundus continued to tote on his shoulders and the chain rattled.

Nodding hastily, she smiled slightly relieved that he at least recognised her, sitting in front of her probably not quite knowing what he wanted or needed, ,,You are mine" he seemed to understand instead as he placed his hand on hers and she didn't pull it away.

Yours, mine, ours words she had heard so often, she was his wife but our joy.

It's like a coin with two sides only one can come up and the other stays in the shadow, only the balance on the edge can go but with enormous precision or trust and love…something that was all the more difficult at such a time between the two brothers.

She nodded again and pulled him close, lying in her lap like a boy with his mother, his, ,,I'm yours," she assured him, carefully using the sleeve of her dress to wipe his face.

Mostly delusional, she quickly realised that he was like a small child who simply needed her mother, a woman who had died at an early age and she filled that role.

An initial squirming soon turned into an amused laugh as she wiped the wine from his face and at least he wasn't crying, ,,Tickled" he muttered and she couldn't help but smile bitterly, the delusion was a horror and a blessing in one.

Another coin.

Dundus played with the blond curls as Caracalla's fingers, which had been playing with each other before, slid to hers, ,,He's been hurting me since we were sin the womb, you're not his or ours…you're mine…like Rome should be mine," he suddenly said, gripping her tighter.

Blue eyes showed the fire of madness and she stroked his cheek, she knew the story of the womb, but she knew just as well that madness could be transmitted by whores, was it a lie or the truth?

Trying to stifle a shaky breath, she placed a kiss on his lips, tasting the wine, tasting sage and tasting blood, ,,You two are like the creators of Rome, two sides my love. But think what Geta has done for you, for me, for all of Rome…you are the king, Geta is the god and I am the sun," she reminded him of the story she had made up during one of his episodes.

Caracalla a king of honour who could have all the blood in the world, his brother the political god and she the sun who held them all together.

A story that made him pause, his memories shrouded in mist, he needed time while she continued to hold him gently and stroke his cheek, his grip on her hand tightening and softening, ,,Yes? Yes, I think so…I think so...despite the pain, I-I still have you" he slowly realised and sanity returned to his being.

As he cuddled up to her and laid his head in the crook of her neck and held her like that for a moment, tears in her eyes as she blinked them away and thanked the gods again that nothing bad had happened.

Caracalla's hand was also on her cheek and she saw the gold tooth as she smiled, ,,Thank you my sun" she heard him say before he pulled her into a kiss, finally back to her senses as he slowly pulled away from her and helped her stand up.

Despite the riots, despite Geta and despite the madness, the Emperor was still here, gently grasping her hand and once more locking her in a kiss, even if Rome fell they would not give up trying to help him out of this doom.

From the moment she had taken him as her husband, she knew that she would always be there for him and that Caracalla would never stop loving her. Because even in madness there was nothing stronger than love.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@potatoesenpaii , @rainbowbox , @thankyouperconte , @myromanempire81 , @k-yurieee

[readerforexiao]

𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐀𝐑𝐌𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐖𝐎 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐋𝐃𝐒 | 𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ

⌗ Sylus x Fem!Reader | married + parent au, romance, fluff, light angst | tw: pregnancy, childbirth trauma, post partum, first time parents, mental health struggles, insecurites, anxiety, underlined depression, panic attack, reference to trauma and loss, implied violence + death, somewhat lore compliant | wc: 4k

⌗ A/n: this is only the beginning. The groundwork has been laid and now i can focus on the family dynamic </3. To my dearest friend who helped me whenever I got stuck, I'm immensely grateful🌹

⌗ “I would do it all again. Choose the wait of a century…” he said between kisses, each peck a declaration that you understood the meaning behind every tender touch and every whispered promise sealed in the air. “Take my last breath as if it were my greatest honour. Because I am yours. All of me…"

On the day you appeared as real as the nightmares that haunted him, your fingers felt smaller than his and rougher than he remembered. Your gaze had lost its affection and stretched before him like a frayed horizon— becoming an unravelled boundary between the warmth he knew and the unknown beyond.

Where there had been a luminous depth like the pale glow of moonlight brushing over still midnight waters— lay a turbulent sea withdrawn and untouchable that even the sense of belonging he once felt had slipped away in the last light of dusk fading into the distance.

It shook him from his thoughts and back into a reality he could not escape.

A reunion, he’d called it when the bullet pierced his chest the blood stained his shirt. A test, a reawakening, he led himself to believe when the tendrils of his evol began their slow work of regeneration. Sylus knew desperation had driven him and not mere calculation.

In all selfishness, he wanted to lay his darkness bare before you because he could not stand the idea of your ignorance while he remembered it all, those empty memories in place of where he once resided.

Sylus was but a child broken by betrayals, a man defined by those scars, and shaped by the ominous hands of fate. His aggression and impatience were the results of more than mere habits; they became ingrained parts of his nature.

Cold and unyielding became of his features; red eyes marked by the devil’s touch, a name both feared and revered. But then you crossed the chasm of his fractured soul, pressing your hands into open wounds and putting your nose where it did not belong with a promise of forever. And he could still hear the manic laughter that echoed at your naivety.

Was it a challenge or a taunt in the way you pushed his buttons? Or had he simply lost his mind, finding himself helplessly drawn under your influence?

It was maddening how in every life you drove him from a man who’d never known love to a fool at your feet. And so, seeing you wander into the N109 zone like a lost kitten searching for its owner, the familiarity broke him.

In a moment of reckless clarity, his heart made the decision that handed you a weapon and certainly his demand was a cruel form of intimacy, it wasn’t the love he wanted to show, but it was the only way he thought would reach across the gulf between you.

The echo of the shot dissolved into silence, and he searched your face, his sanity splintered, the tether fraying and refusing to connect. It hadn’t worked. Of course not. How foolish, how desperately pathetic to hope otherwise.

Yet he tried again… for his heart ached for you. But each time he reached for the past he was met with resistance, caught in a relentless cycle.

He chased the memory of you to his end, time and time again, watching as you flashed those bright eyes at another, laughter and tender touches shared with someone warmer. You were cared for and shown how to live in this life by someone who knew how to protect you beneath the stars. Much like another had monitored your heart and anticipated your needs, just as he had done.

It made his attempts feel insignificant.

But Sylus did not relinquish you even then, nor did he dare to ruin your happiest moments for he knew he would always be yours, and with patience, you would be his.

You saved him, after all.

It was that single resolve to keep wanting you that brought him to this moment, cradling his new-born daughter close to his chest, marvelling at how impossibly light she was in his hands, how easily they could break her.

He couldn’t believe it— after all the mistakes he made and the things he ruined, this was his life now, even though he hardly felt worthy of it.

She was a miracle, blessed with eyes parallel to his own, deeply doused in red— a colour he once loathed for its synergy with blood, but here it was soft and untainted in her eyes as they fluttered open and peered up at him.

His feet were spellbound and lodged between the crevices of the earth by her existence, that alone granted him all he thought beyond his reach.

Merely days that she’d been in this world and already had she turned his life upside down.

“Awake already, little one?” He whispered, it had barely fifteen minutes since she drifted off.

A smile crept onto his face as he fell back into the rhythm of soothing her fussing. Sylus glanced at the untouched cot in front him, cold and empty, as he held the infant it was intended for. He mused, knowing that it would remain that way for many more nights.

He pivoted on his heels and walked around the room with her. She was entirely dependant on him, he realized, as he adjusted her over his shoulder, being careful with her neck and the amount of movement he made. Though it wasn’t in the way others before her had been; not in the way you were.

As he strolled around the room, his consciousness meandered through the landscape of this existence, a world steeped in complex relationships where dependence often came with strings attached.

He considered the people who worked under him at Onychinus, each cloaked in their own shadows, driven by desperation of sorts.

Most had sold their souls and traded their humanity for survival or power, engaging in incomprehensible acts to prove their worth.

To each their own, their choice to wallow in the filth beneath him. But even as they cowered in fear at his feet, there still lingered a pride and expectation— a desire for something in return.

Their loyalty was a currency exchanged for blood-stained bills and the hollow promise of protection. And even someone as powerful as him needed their willing hands, for he could not accomplish everything by himself.

He recalled a meeting with an operative, a sharp-witted woman who approached him with a proposal, eyes gleaming with ambition. “I need your backing on this, Sylus. In return, I can secure a major supply route,” she had said, her tone confident.

Despite his annoyance, he complied, aware her loyalty hinged on the favours he could grant her, a waltz of give and take that left no room for trust. For now, he needed her; she had yet to prove her worth in his plans.

Then there was Orion, a man large and sturdy in appearance, though his bulging stomach gave him a rounded look. Greedy at heart, he was nonetheless useful for his keen eye for anything of value, which meant Sylus would keep him around until he no longer served that purpose.

Perhaps these relationships weren’t the best examples to use as they only highlighted his dependence on them rather than theirs on him. But that was far from the truth.

He knew these people leached off him; they would be nowhere without his support. They depended on his money, power, and influence. If he chose to assert himself then they would be quickly reminded of who held their leashes.

It was different when it came to you. Your need of him was honest, not just a need for survival or security but something deeper. His presence grounded you and his strength fortified you.

In a time of unrelenting chaos, his support was a solace. It was a reliance that transcended mere necessity; it was built on trust and intimacy, a bond that flourished in the shadows of his empire.

What he gave, he received in kind. The love he showered, returned tenfold.

Still, you were able to stand on your own two feet without him. It wasn’t the same for his daughter who stared up at him seemingly captivated by his presence just as he was by hers.

With her, it was nothing of the kind. There were no ulterior motives, no agendas, no expectations— she just needed him. Not as Sylus, the leader of Onychinus— a cold-blooded monster— or as a sacrifice, but simply as her father. It was a stark contrast to the world outside, a world where trust was a rare commodity and relationships were transactional.

He welcomed the feeling of being needed by someone like her.

“What?” He grinned with a brow raised in playful questioning as he laid her in the center of his bed, watching her tiny form melt into the blankets.

Her features wrinkled in response to the shift in surroundings and it was a strange sensation to see her there in the middle, occupying the space where he would lay with you entangled.

She drew him in the same way you did. Suddenly, his heart pounded against the confines of its cage, swelling with a mix of pride and protectiveness, but it also raced with an emotion he found hard to perceive.

“You are everything I am not” The words coursed between them in secrecy, barely more than a whisper in a tone absent of the conviction and poise it usually had, softened alone by the rise and fall of her chest.

She was beautiful, held in the arms of a father who loved her.

He let his fingers trace her small hand, so delicate compared to his own scarred knuckles— hands hardened by the demands of survival, by years of a life he hadn’t chosen but had been thrust into, one of cold stares and distant voices, where warmth was something fought for, not given freely.

“But that doesn’t matter, because I will show you a world that won’t bruise you for breathing” he said, bringing his lips upon the dainty swell of her cheeks.

She would know laughter that wasn’t tainted with bitterness and shelter that didn’t feel like a cage. In his arms, she would know what it was like to be wanted, protected, and cherished in a way he had once only dreamed of.

“And you will be loved for simply existing.” He promised, prodding at the balance of existence.

For tonight and forever on, he made that vow to be her protector and her greatest source of strength. A promise made in sincerity on his life; on the heart given to you— the one he would use to love this child.

She would never find herself in the same situation as her mother, clinging to him amid the storm on the eve of a failed battle. Your head buried against his neck, your hands drenched in his blood and hooked onto his shirt, your beautiful face twisted in pain. The red receding from his one remaining eye, taking with it a promise unkept.

No, that was his tragedy, and never will it be hers. He would shield her from it all, lay the world in her hands if she so desired, and tear it apart all the same if it ever dared to harm her.

She stirred at his words as if she was answering him and Sylus didn’t know it was possible to fall in love all over again with someone other than you.

He let his gaze linger on her a moment longer, then looked up toward the door waiting for you to return.

It had taken some convincing, but he’d finally insisted you step out just for a brief reprieve after the whirlwind of the past few days. You agreed but reluctantly so, though he knew you hadn’t wandered far and you most likely were in a hurry to return.

Already, motherhood had taken root within you.

By the time you returned, showered and fed, you found yourself missing your husband and daughter even more.

You crossed the threshold, the soft orange glow of the lamps welcomed you and immediately you found Sylus standing over the bed with his back to you, the baby fussing in his arms.

Your whole world in one scene.

“I can feel your eyes on us, sweetie,” He announced, not even needing to turn around to sense your presence.

You wrapped your arms around his midsection and rested your head against his back, letting the rhythm of his breathing soothe you.

Out of nowhere, a knot tightened in your throat and Sylus as if sensing it, turned to envelop you tighter.

A whiff of black musk breached your nose, his signature scent evoked memories of late nights spent in each other’s company, of whispered confessions and last goodbyes.

Your body did not move in his hold, but your hands gripped his shirt for dear life.

You felt yourself begin to float, the ground beneath your feet dissolving. Then the memories of labour crept in from the edges, stirring the same deep unshakable pain. It clawed its way to the surface, latching onto your mind, the sensations as vivid and overwhelming as if it were happening all over again.

You shuddered at the recollection of your screams when you were urged to push, the buzzing they left behind still droning in your ears.

Beads of sweat formed on your skin and smeared, leaving behind faint marks on Sylus’ chest.

“Look at me,” he urged, guiding you to sit on the bed.

He sank onto his knees. A man who never lowered himself to anyone now knelt before you, his worry palpable in the way his thumb hurried in pursuit of your endless stream of tears.

You were in so much pain he could see it reflected in the quaking of your pupils and the tremor of your fingertips, he was reduced to nothing but an onlooker and his touch hesitant.

“That’s right, keep your eyes on me”

You followed his voice as he counted down your breaths.

“Sylus…” you whispered.

“I’m here,” he kissed your knuckles, the touch of his lips like a hot ember on your skin.

“I hoped that once she was here, everything would… piece together. But it’s not like that at all” You sucked in a breath, “Instead, I feel overwhelmed. Every time I see her little face, I can’t shake the feeling that I’m not enough— that somehow, I’ve already failed, just like I have with everything else”

“I understand, but—”

“Her life depends on me,” you shook your head as you continued, urgency creeping into your tone. “She’s the one person I don’t want to let down”

“You’re not failing her. You’re here, and you’re trying. It’s—”

“It’s hard to see that when I feel like I’m drowning,” you interrupted, your frustration bubbling to the surface. “What if I can’t give her the life she deserves? What if I mess this up? What if my lack of understanding hurts her in the future, and she grows up feeling unloved or unsupported?”

Sylus stopped you, firm yet gentle in his approach. “Why do you punish yourself with such careless thoughts?”

He held your gaze, filled with admiration for your strength— so different from his own, as he often ran and hid from his battles.

“Let me remind you we’ve faced challenges before, you and I alone, long before we found each other, isn’t that right, Sweetie?” You nodded reluctantly, and he went on, “In all you’ve done so far, it hasn’t come naturally; it’s taken your time, blood, sweat, and tears, but didn’t the results yield something good? All things worth doing are hard, and you’ve done something incredible by bringing life into this world. It’s something that inevitably reshapes all you know into something unknown, so isn’t it okay to feel a little overwhelmed? We’re here, we’re present, and we’re willing to learn and that’s what matters most”

His sincerity cut through the rapid thudding in your head, quieting your tears to faint breaths.

There was validation in his words, even though you struggled to pinpoint your emotions or the kind of solace you sought because sometimes words just felt insufficient, especially when you knew they couldn’t bring about instant relief.

But even in the moments where nothing was said, Sylus was there—always there through it all, and perhaps that was why you believed everything he said despite the perturbation prancing inside you.

You inhaled shakily, closing your eyes to find a semblance of calm but the tears kept flowing and Sylus wiped them away each time. His hand came to rest on your stomach, the warmth from his palm seeping into your skin.

“You have me right here” The weight in his voice thicker than you’d ever heard before. A tremor slipped through, like he was holding back a flood with every syllable.

This was Sylus— your Sylus— who never allowed a tear to fall… until now.

A lone tear traced his cheek in defiance, his eyes tinged with red veins surrounding the crimson of his irises, as if daring him to show his vulnerability, and his head fell gently into your lap.

He pressed a kiss to your clothed thigh, lips lingering as if that one touch could steady him

He couldn’t let you see how affected he really was; couldn’t reveal that the weight of worry had been pressing on him just as heavily. For all his certainty, his strength, his fear wasn’t for himself.

"However you need me… because my love for you is all I have left to offer, as a man with nothing else to give" Sylus’s gaze flickered to yours, and you felt his breath catch as your fingers ran over the damp line on his cheek.

He raised himself, his nose brushing against yours as he tilted his head to connect his lips with yours. The subtle flavour of salt mingled on your tongues. Sylus felt an overwhelming sense of gratitude for being alive. After everything that had happened, the stillness around you revealed that all you desired was his closeness more than ever.

Sylus pushed up onto his knees to deepen the kiss, tender and sweet with an undercurrent of urgency in his movement.

“I would do it all again. Choose the wait of a century… ” he said between kisses, each peck a declaration that you understood the meaning behind every tender touch and very whispered promise sealed in the air. “Take my last breath as if it were my greatest honour. Because I am yours. All of me…"

The rush of tears had now passed and you let the cradle song of contentment bathe you. Though fatigue tugged at your bones, hope flickered like a candle in the darkness. Your hearts pulsed in harmony, the burdens of worry lingering in the air, but never alone, he reminded you.

If Sylus was yours to love and hold, then you were his in sickness and in health. You belonged to each other, and if your souls were forever intertwined, then your daughter would be the embodiment of that shared love.

“She will be ours” you said breathlessly against his mouth and Sylus’ eyes, once the vivid red of fresh blood deepened to a dark almost infinite crimson, his eyelids heavy, pupils dilating.

“Ours…” He repeated, tasting the word as though it were new, something he wanted to savour.

He said it again, quieter this time, and the walls he so carefully constructed around himself, crumbled under the pressure of his emotions.

The sentiment set the mood thick, the way the flecks of gold marble enriched the lustreless grey walls; four corners that became the keeper of all your intimacy and your secrets, a witness to every unspoken thought and keen desire.

Now, they would also stand witness to the joy of your child as she grew, recording the moments of wonder, each giggle, every first step, and the murmur of her first words.

It would become her safety, her home, in the arms of those who loved her most.

You and Sylus found yourselves immersed in the soothing of your conscious when the sudden wail broke the tranquillity, causing him to pull back, his eyes wide with surprise.

The unexpected interruption jerked a laugh from your throat and in an instant, Sylus left your side and had the infant in his arms, a grin spread across his face while he ran a hand through his tousled hair.

He grabbed the nursing pillow from the cot on his way to you just as you settled against the pillows and pulled down your shirt to feed her.

“You know, I think she gets her appetite from you.” you giggled when she hungrily latched onto your nipple.

Sylus chuckled, watching his girls. “I’d like to think I’m a bit more civilized about it.”

You gaped at him before punching his leg, which caused a stir from the child who clearly disapproved.

“Sorry, sorry,” you quickly apologized, repositioning her to latch back on.

“A bit demanding too, aren’t you little one” he remarked, poking her cheek.

You glared at him. “You have something to say to me, honey?”

“Put the claws away, kitten. I only meant it as an observation” he said, his voice still low, though there was amusement in his tone.

“Careful, Sylus, or I might just take preference of your daughter over you" You quipped.

He scoffed as he climbed into bed beside you, “That’s a rather cruel thing to say. Shouldn’t you be happy she has one of your... traits?”

“Oh god…” You opened your mouth to retort, words catching on your lips, and whatever you meant to say dissolved in an instant as a thought took hold: what if she did inherit everything from her father and not just his beautiful eyes?

Your expression shifted, giving way to a contemplative silence.

“What is it?” He asked.

“She can have your looks, that’s fine, but as for your personality…”

He looked up from his daughter, breaking away from the sight of their adorably clashing eyes to fix you with an incredulous look. “What’s wrong with my personality?”

Did he really need to ask that?

“You’re difficult..”

Sylus clicked his tongue, “I’d prefer the term ‘tenacious and efficient,”

“Well I’d prefer the term ‘handful’”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

It wasn’t. Not particularly… you think?

With an all-too-familiar quirk of his lips hinting at amusement, you began to feel slightly annoyed— especially when your daughter’s insistent latch brought a sudden twinge of discomfort.

“It’s all fun and games until she turns out exactly like you” you muttered, half-jokingly.

He raised an eyebrow, feigning innocence. “What did you expect, sweetie?”

“Right, because I was fully aware of the implications of breeding with a handful,” you teased.

“You know what I hear? Jealousy” He drawled.

“Jealousy? Really?” You narrowed your eyes.

His grin widened, “If she does turn out to be a little me, I wouldn’t mind adding another to balance things out… maybe one who takes after you.”

“Jeez, Sylus! It’s way too early for that.” You pushed his face away, laughter escaping your lips as your daughter, now full, drifted off with her tiny tongue still out, sleepily suckling at the air.

Both of you awe-struck at the sight before Sylus gathered her up and settled her across his chest while you nestled beside him, resting your head on his shoulder as your hand slipped over his, covering the one he kept protectively on her back.

After a moment, he spoke, “You know, no matter what she inherits from me, I’m grateful it’s you who brought her into this world. You’re the heart of our little family, and no matter what our future holds, I’ll always be here to support you”

By this point you were barely able to keep your eyes open, exhaustion pulling you toward sleep, but you heard him loud and clear.

“I’m lucky to have you,” you whispered back.

The last thing you remembered as Sylus’ kissing your forehead and pulling the blankets up to your chin.

“Sleep well, beloved"

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[zvdvdlvr]

Eyes of a Stranger + Aaron Hotchner

synopsis //The man who you loved had been the one to withhold information to hurt you the most

warnings // Emily’s death. Betrayal. Allusions to sex. Possible vulgar language.

author’s notes //Are we wanting a part two? I’m lowkey wanting a part two. Could do with some more angst if I do say so myself.

When Emily died, you were… shellshocked. To say the least, your heart was shattered.

     You had just made it to Derek’s side when the paramedics started rushing Prentiss onto a stretcher. His hands were stained crimson and his eyebrows were knitted impossibly tight. His eyes darted to you and you could see it in his eyes. Pure fear.

     Aaron reached your side. His hand shook as he wrapped an arm around your waist. His warm eyes had the same terror inthem that everyone else’s had. Aaron’s ghostly faint touch faded as he ordered everyone to the hospital. You let Aaron lace your fingers together as he pulled you to the SUV.

     “Y/n.” Your eyes found Aaron’s as he started the car. “Are you okay?”

     You said yes without even giving yourself a once-over. The pain in your chest was just from your anxiety. Probably. “I’m fine, Hotch. We need to go.”

     Your fiancé nodded. He didn’t comment on the harshness of your voice. Instead, he put the car in gear and beelined to the hospital.

     Just as you had started to pick harshly at your cuticles, Aaron’s large hand clasped yours wordlessly. You let out a ragged sigh and watched cars as Aaron drove.

     It was as much of a blur at the hospital as it was when you heard “Prentiss is down” over your headpiece. Penelope had swarmed you with a stifling hug when you pushed open the doors to the hospital. You didn’t even think to ask how she had gotten there before you. In fact, you hadn’t said anything.

     Aaron kept a hold of your hand. Rossi flagged the two of you down and immediately pulled you in for a hug. You found yourself falling apart with each embrace.

     Derek hadn’t looked up. His heel tapped anxiously on the waxy white floor. His hands were now blood-free and pressing harshly to his face.

    Aaron sat beside you in a torturous hospital chair, grasping your hand as tightly as before. He rested his head against the wall and you copied his actions.

     You didn’t know how long you sat there: silently replaying the sight over and over again. The gunshot, the ‘agent down’, the sprinting, the disbelief. Over and over again. Over. And over. And over. Again and again. And you couldn’t do anything. Again and-

     “I need water,” Aaron all but croaked. Those beautiful brown eyes that had taken your breath away peered into your face as he gauged your face for any tell that you didn’t hear him. “I love you, y/n,” he whispered into your ear after pressing a chaste kiss to your temple.

     You shuddered out a sigh and fell back into silence. Thoughts of Emily filled your mind again. This time, happier ones. Like the time you, JJ, Emily, and Penelope went to the bar and encountered a man that claimed to be in the FBI. A feeble smile pulled at the corner of your lip at the sight of a red-faced Brad as you all whipped out your badges. And then the time you surprised Emily, JJ, and Penelope with your engagement. JJ’s mouth had dropped open comically wide, Penny started screaming so loudly that you worried your neighbors would call the cops, and Emily had jumped out of her seat and started doing laps in your living room before practically pulling your hand from your body to see the rock on your finger.

     You had no doubt that Emily would pull through. She had worked so hard with the girls to plan the wedding that you’d be pissed if she missed it. But you knew she wouldn’t miss it. You knew she’d make it.

    Aaron appeared again and handed you your own water bottle and a protein bar. You cracked open the water bottle and took a sip. You pocketed the food for later. While twisting the lid closed, you watched JJ step forward.

     “How is she?” Spencer asks first. You hear the tremble in his voice.

     You see it on JJ’s face before she says anything. And for a moment, you don’t want her to say anything. But of course she answers. “She… The doctors say she didn’t even make it off the table.”

     JJ keeps talking. Words keep spilling out of her mouth. Her hands keep moving and her eyes move from Derek’s to Penelope’s to Rossi’s to Spencer’s to yours and then to Aaron’s. But you hear nothing.

     Your mouth parts but nothing comes out. All the words are gone. Your mind blanks. The world seems to darken as you falter. You sink into your chair and feel tears prick in your eyes. There’s no way. No way that the girl you used to go get coffee with on the weekends was dead. The girl that asked you to pick out a cat with her. The girl that you had movie nights with every month (including Jack) because she was your family. And now… that girl is gone.

     You buried her in March. It was a beautiful service. You held most of your tears, though, because Jack wanted you to hold him for the entire thing. Aaron’s presence never left you and you were lucky he was there for everything. You knew he was grieving in his own way, and you realized that he was doing it by busying himself with taking care of you and Jack.

     It was one month later when you were at your lowest. You weren’t mean, you didn’t lash out, and you were just numb to everything. You focused on three things: Jack, Aaron, and work. You knew that if you took too much time to think about everything that had been taken from you, you may not be able to function.

     Two months later and Aaron was a godsend. He hadn’t questioned you about your methods at work (although you could feel his concern radiating off of him) or at home. Aaron had involved you in everything he could, even offering to wake up a little later in the morning so you could sleep in a little bit and go for a run with him (Jack was at Jessica’s for the week). You didn’t go running, but you did get your cardio done.

     Five months after the funeral, you started to feel like yourself again. Cases had been pretty smooth sailing, not taking more than a week to catch murdering bastards. Strauss had miraculously given you a Thursday and Friday off so you and Aaron spent two days at home with Jack watching movies, going to the park, and making blanket forts. The other two days were spent doing adult activities while Jack had a sleepover with some his school friends.

     Six months later and you feel good. The gap in your heart hasn’t healed, but you’re starting to live with the fact that your not quite blood sister is dead. Aaron had planned a date night for you near the end of the month consisting of your favorite Italian, a movie, and a late night drive with you on the AUX.  Aaron had kept a hand on you the whole night: holding your hand in the car, keeping a hand in the small of your back as he led you to the restaurant, a hand on your thigh through the movie, and holding your hand during the entire drive. It was the moments like this that made you treasure your love the most.

     It was the seventh month after Emily’s funeral did your entire world halt on it’s axis.

     “We’re going into work early, babe,” Aaron says after gently waking you up. “We have a lead on Doyle.”

     You were sat at the round table talking with Spencer about random bits of information- you were keen on listening to what he had to say, despite his tendency to ramble. He was just telling you statistics about the moon that started with you saying ‘Did you know Australia is wider than the moon?’ when your fiancé walked in with a grim expression.

     Conversation halted. Rossi straightened at his seat, and Penelope’s happy expression sobered. “What’s going on?” Derek asked skeptically, eyes narrowed.

     Hotch’s eyes flitted over everyone in the room before starting. “Seven months ago, I made a decision that affected the team.” He paised before continuing, “As you all know, Emily lost a lot of blood after her fight with Doyle… But the Doctors were able to stabilize her. She was airlifted from Boston to Bethesda.”

     Your heart dropped. The room was so quiet, you could hear your heart pounding in your ears. The oxygen was completely sucked out of the room as the gravity of Aaron’s statement finally sank in.

     His lips were stretched thing over his face as his eyes finally fell on you. Instead of seeing love in his eyes, you saw a stranger. 

     He had lied- kept you in the dark for seven months. Aaron held you in his arms as you wept for your best friend. He had carried you back to your bed when you wandered out to the couch to fall asleep where Emily used to crash when you had sleepovers. Aaron had known she was alive and watched you mourn. Your fiancé had watched you mourn when he knew she was alive.

     The betrayal you felt had rubbed salt in the wound you had been healing from. But you tore your eyes away from Aar- Hotch’s to see that everyone’s attention was at the door. You looked and your heart dropped impossibly further in your chest when you saw… Emily.

[cthulhus-curse]

Hopeless

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 3,077

Warnings: Dark!Milf!Natasha Romanoff, Mommy Kink, Dub-Con, Drugging, Minor Character Death, Graphic Descriptions of Gore, Kidnapping, Bondage, Ball Gags, Knife Play, Blood Play, Praise, Obsessive Behavior, Jealousy, Stalking, Murder, Scissoring, Fingering, Cunnilingus | 18+ Minors DNI

Summary: Natasha takes her time watching, humming, and preying upon her unwilling pet until at one point she snaps. Taking you away is what she sees fit.

Each day without fail viridescent eyes stared at you from across the street. Covered windows were no match for the hard gaze thrown your way, watching every move and breath you took. They were obsessed — pupils addicted, dilating whenever you dared step from the confines of your home into the world. With a hitched breath, she had to hold onto any nearby surface for support. The unknowing effect you had on your neighbor was catastrophic.

Never would she shake the feeling of love when it came to you. Regardless of how little you’d talked — slight exchanges of words in the morning, the time she took to rummage through her mailbox precisely scheduled to greet you. During each smidge of a second she spent with eyes fluttering across the street, she grew intoxicated, drunk in the liquor that was your existence.

For the most part she was able to keep her urges hidden away in the closet carrying a suitcase with all the pictures, toys, and items she had of yours. The obsessing unconsciously grew exponentially ever since you had moved into the neighborhood less than a year ago. Many times she found herself sprawled over the bed, her hand between her legs with slender digits shoved far inside her sex. With her children in school and her breadwinner wife off at work, the house was hers to haunt.

Weeks passed by and never did she break the incorrigible distance between the two of you. It was an unspoken deal — you were watched from afar and, in her belief, you tease her in return with your pretend innocence. For the images she had of you, there was no denying you wanted her. It was what she told herself each night she giddily went to sleep with a smile plastered on her features, eyes closed with her wife’s arms wrapped around her slim body — the image that it was you instead of the brunette woman got her through a peaceful slumber.

With a secrecy intact, she was content.

Until she wasn’t.

Due to the tending of the children, she was left to pick up after them right as they had left on the bus to school. Crumbs left on the table, food across the floor, she sighed. The small elementary school children were nothing if not messy, but she loved them dearly. They were one of the few things she adored in the boring dull life she carried.

Normally she was to grab the mail around the time the children left, but as she peeked through the front door, her body clothed with a pair of tight yoga pants and a sports bra, her eyes widened.

There stood her wife, who had taken a day off, laughing off across the street. She had gone out on a run long before, kissing the kid’s heads as she dropped off a goodbye. Rather than spend her time at home, the brunette had a hand on your upper arm, getting far too close to the one thing that caused her wife any happiness within her miserable life. The more the two of you interacted, the mightier the anger beneath the small woman grew. Her wife who whispered hotly in your ear, pushing her body uncomfortably close to your own, would not take away her property.

That was something Natasha refused to let slide.

It was a split-second decision fueled by fury, betrayal, and impulsively. From her younger years Natasha still had her favored stash beside your own. She struggled to keep her thoughts normalized, remembering with a foggy mind what the therapist had told her at the hospital all those years ago. Eyes closed, deep breaths, happy thoughts, but all that came to mind as she snooped through the closet was how far she’d have to lodge her knife inside her wife’s chest in order to bring her the most pain.

With her experience, it did not take long to have a body slumped over the entrance of the house when Maria arrived. The first had been at the ripe age of thirteen — a pair of girls, those who made fun of her, followed her home late on a school day. Back then she was easily prone to letting her anger slip away, which led to the disappearance of her fellow students. The acting she had put on at the police station for weeks was Academy Award worthy.

Years after that she allowed herself to grow, to obsess over others and take care of anything that sat in her way. For her violent outbursts she’d been sent to the hospital on two occasions, but never spoke a peep about that ledge of hers that oozed blood. It was her own little secret each time she snuck out from her dormitory in college to bury yet another bag of meat. Although such urges had ceased when becoming wed to Maria, the one who she once believed to be her true love, slipped through the cracks of her shell of a body upon your arrival in town.

Natasha allowed herself to enjoy the sight beneath her. The woman who she once loved lay battered on the hardwood floor, her ocean eyes lifeless as her skin took a pale hue. It was only accented by the various macabre gashes on her chest and stomach — 38 to be exact, one for each year Natasha had been on Earth. The pool of blood beneath the motionless cadaver was mesmerizing.

Bending down, Natasha reached out to brush a finger above the scarlet liquid, brushing away the masterpiece she had created. The bloody tip was plopped into her mouth, the woman groaning at the metallic yet wondrous taste of her favored treat.

“Not bad,” Natasha told herself, kicking her wife’s body mockingly while gripping the handle of her messy knife — she’d have to get a newly sharpened one if she wished to pay you a visit. “Sorry it came to this, baby, but I want a divorce. No one takes what’s mine. Guess you should’ve known better.”

Breathing in the scent of victory through her nostrils, Natasha relaxed. She always did feel alive and exhilarated when watching life blink away from a person’s frail body. Already she found herself excited for her next kill.

Looking out the window with her skin and clothes tainted with red, Natasha smirked manically. She eyed you through the glass, watching as you took your dog out to the front yard before returning back inside. The happy family she had always wanted would be started with you. All she had to do was rid herself of her ex-wife’s body before robbing herself a new toy.

“We’ll be together soon, detka,” she promised. The excitement she had was exuded all across the house. Long months of patient waiting would finally come to an end, and she had no one but Maria to thank. “I promise mommy will be there today. I’ll protect you from all the bad people.” She hummed when remembering to use the other special treat on you. “You’ll never be hurt by anyone but me again.”

｡☆✼★━━━━━━━━━━━━★✼☆｡

With a wide smile, freshened up with a hint of a Channel No. 9 perfume after a much needed shower, and her confidence, Natasha strode to your door later in the day. She didn’t need to spend long there, although her hesitation came when she was met with a sight of you, she simply basked in your presence. The way you had appeared through the cracked open door made her swoon.

The expertise she carried got her to swiftly press her front against your back, a syringe’s needle tearing through your skin as she dumped the chemicals inside of you once invited into the house. Hugging you tight prevented your suddenly unconscious body from falling flat on the ground. Strong arms kept you up, dragging you away through the house until she reached the garage. Natasha didn’t imagine you’d mind if she dared take your car for a little ride.

She had to wait a few minutes after having dumped you in the car, knowing there was still someone else she had yet to take away. Natasha wouldn’t dare let her plan fall apart with silly mistakes.

Ropes were tied across your nude body, clothing torn off upon your arrival to the far away land she found solace in. Natasha took her time. She enjoyed every last second, the momentum building up as the drugs in your system washed away every so often. You’d wake up soon, but as a means to leave you all ready, she prepared your body for her to claim.

With such a large amount of free time in her life, being a rather quiet housewife stuck in the neck of suburbia, Natasha’s research had been intensive to make it all perfect for you. She had bought pink ropes which she carefully wrapped around your body. Each little knot made her grunt, breathing out harshly when getting your wrists tied to the headboard, your legs forcefully pried apart and unable to close no matter how much you fought – you’d be far too out of it to even move, but she place safety precautions all over as to never take chances.

Once the ropes were carefully placed on your body preventing an escape, Natasha went on to grab a special toy she had bought the previous week. The selection had been tough, but out of all the ones she found at the store, the woman settled for a heart ball gag, the collar of it a faux black leather tint as the heart dripped with a red hue.

Staring down at her handiwork, Natasha hummed. After countless months filled with insistent boredom, she’d finally get what she wanted.

“Wake up, princess. It’s time to open those beautiful eyes of yours,” she mumbled sweetly. Sitting at the edge of the bed, Natasha cupped your face, slapping it gently until she noticed you stirring. “Let me see you. You’re finally safe with me. Maria can’t hurt you anymore, detka.”

She had taken the liberty to remove her own outfit, the special reward she had hidden for you being far away in the basement. While her gaze dropped to your nude breasts, groping each of them perversely, biting her bottom lip to hold back a groan, your eyes fluttered open. You couldn’t place the walls that surrounded you, your vision gaining a smidge of clarity when noticing your neighbor sitting above you.

No matter how loud you tried to scream, all that came out were muffled noises of fear.

“I brought you to our lake house. Maria used to take me here every summer before we had the kids. I’m sorry we couldn’t do this elsewhere, but I couldn’t let them see you. They mean the world to me, just like Maria did, but baby you,” she shifted over the bed, a hand falling flat on your nude stomach leaving a dry bloody knife on top. “You are my world.”

Natasha tilted her head, eyes landing on the ropes that kept your legs pried apart and wrists attached to the headboard. Tugging at them, she hummed at how sturdy they were. Not the slightest movement could make the tight knots disappear.

“I’ve watched you for such a long time. It’s been so long since I’ve been touched by Maria, but it doesn’t matter anymore. She’s gone and you’re here. I’ve seen pictures of you, the ones I’ve taken I mean.” In her nude greatness, Natasha climbed over the mattress, positioning herself against you, her legs hooked with your own as your cunts ghosted over one another’s. “You have no idea how many times I’ve touched myself thinking of you. In the shower, late at night with Maria next to me…” Natasha’s dark eyes rolled to the back of her head. Groping her own tits, she let out a deep breath. “Oh Y/N!” Your name rolled off her tongue like honey. “Let me make you feel good. I want to watch you bleed under me. Oh I bet you’ve been thinking about this for so long. Your pussy is practically begging to be fucked. Don’t worry, darling, mommy’s here.”

Natasha breathed in your scent, mewling at how drenched you were. The fear in your eyes drove her mad, her own pussy oozing juices as she grazed it against yours. A hand grabbed the knife, wiping the blood against the sheets she’d forever treasure. Maria’s fluids meant nothing to her unlike your own.

There were sloppy attempts to move away, your eyes widened, tears trailing down your flushed cheeks leaving them wet with horror. All Natasha did at that was beam. She ghosted the dull part of the knife against your stomach. The tip was oh so close to you – so ready to tear at your skin and leave you a maimed mess. You couldn’t help but wish to bleed for her.

When you let out a particularly loud growl, still hearable with the gag on, Natasha was quick to lean down and press the blade against your neck harsh enough to leave a small red mark beneath. “Don’t make me hurt you, baby. Please, please don’t do it. I get really bad when I’m angry. Be a good girl for me and behave. I don’t want to do to you the same thing I did to Maria. Please.” She grinded her pussy against your own, moaning at the wetness she felt mixed with her own. “I don’t want you gone.”

Enchantment is all that soaked her body when urging her hips back and forth. Natasha allowed herself to bask on the arousal shooting through her, her clit garnering stimulation from your skin. To be filled up is what she wanted, your digits deep within claiming her as your own. She couldn’t bother untying you though, at least not until she broke you down and built you back up, molding you as her own relentless animal.

“That feels good, huh? You like mommy’s pussy, I can tell. Oh yours is so fucking wet, such a dirty baby,” Natasha giggled. She casually made little cuts along your chest. The knife was substituted by her lips, tongue sticking out to lick the small bouts of blood before she sucked you clean. Finally tasting your essence drove her mad, her brain rebooting as she found the words to speak. “So fucking good. Oh baby you taste divine. And look at how much you’re bleeding for mommy. I’m so happy you want me to have all of this. You’re truly special, my love.”

You didn’t do much by lying there, frozen in place while Natasha tore at your skin maniacally. Each cut forced a wave of heat to drift across your bones. They alternated from soft ones, merely scratches, to deep gashes that turned white before furious bouts of blood dropped out. Soon enough your chest, breasts she groped regardless of the wounds upon them, and stomach were covered in a fluid scarlet blanket.

Natasha was unable to keep up with all the blood, lapping at whatever she could while humping your cunt. Although you were unable to move, you still gave off slight thrusts, closing your eyes at the mix of pain and pleasure which overtook you. She didn’t dare stop for a second. All Natasha saw was red which she deliciously took in.

With a hand holding the dull part of the knife against you, the other drifted down between your bodies. The redhead alternated between stimulating your clit and her own, leaning back to better position herself to better fuck your pussy. Mesmerizingly, your blood drifted down her chin, hands coated with a similar fluid as she lost herself in you.

“Mommy’s close, baby, so fucking close. No one could ever make me feel like this. Only my pretty princess can play with mommy,” Natasha whimpered, her digits desperately flicking the bundle of nerves. The macabre nature of her actions was overtaken by her adorably scrunched up features. “And no one can ever touch my toy. You’ll never bleed for anyone the way you do for me. Just you and mommy against the world. Never forget that, Y/N.”

Natasha only took a moment to garner her breath when she came. Her back was arched, the excitement of the day fueling her need to let go. She nearly slumped down over your bloody body, but instead chuckled, staring down in awe with bloodshot green eyes that would forever haunt your dreams.

Knowing you were close to the edge, the older woman positioned herself between your legs. She licked her fingers clean from your blood before sliding them within your wet tight gaping hole. “My lovebug actually loves it when mommy hurts her,” Natasha noticed as she took in the warmth of your walls, digits pushing down your folds until she reached the depths of your cunt. “If I had known you’d be such a little minx, I would’ve taken you away sooner. I’m so happy that you want me back. Look at how well your pussy takes mommy,” she pointed out, mesmerized by the way your walls clamped down, juices springing from your cunt that sloshed with wet sounds at the slight movements. Leaning in, she lapped at your clit, swirling her tongue around and moaning as she tasted you. “Such a good girl. Oh we’re going to have so much fun together.”

Fingers didn’t stop fucking deep inside your sex until you came. Natasha was drugged within your juices, vigorously drinking them as though it was the Holy Chalice. When you did fall apart with an intense orgasm shooting through you, you were far too tied up to dare arch your back, settling instead for grunting against the gag as you fell apart. Your brain was far too gone with the mix of the drugs and your loss of blood to focus on the woman sitting at your feet.

With your own wife’s body stashed out, Maria herself back home with limbs cut and thrown in several trash bags, beaten to a pulp but still breathing, in the basement, Natasha was elated to train you. Perhaps you could use her favorite tool to take a life with your own hands. She knew it would be thrilling to watch, although the same could not be said for poor little Wanda who sat shivering naked against the concrete, her mind only upon you, relentlessly wishing for your safety.