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wvffles · 2 days ago

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ohhhhhhhhh goshhh 😩 the anticipation continuessss

“And I had an angel standing over me,” he added, his eyes growing heavy. Guilty. “A bona fide angel. She’d stitched me up, she told me. She also told me I was lucky to be alive. The doc wanted to toe tag me and be done with it, but she thought I still had some fight left in me.” “She was my anchor,” he said. “After it was all said and done, she followed me here, held my feet down to the ground. Sometimes she had to hammer me down, ya know.”

the fact that this is how he sees their story, yet he's still chosen to be a dirty lying no good scoundrel really grinds my gears. like he needed to forget his name? I could smack him with a frying pan rapunzel style for the same effect lol

“I’m the guy who can’t die,” he muttered.

my immediate thought was well try harder 😭 and i did feel bad for a second, then I finished the chapter…i stand by my statement 😅

You marveled that you could smile at all, but it was only thanks to Dean Winchester.

so real lmaoo

her inner conflict tugged at my heartstrings, i'm just glad she's giving herself some grace at least <3 it’s a difficult situation all around

the flowers!!! 😩 oh dean :( and michael is truly a classic douche like sir you cannot just magically make it better with some flowers and dinner 🙂‍↔️🤚🏽

Each position captured was more compromising than the next between Michael and Dolores Daye. Apparently, he was paying most of her bills as well with your combined household funds. So part of your own money was financing his exploits.

i would get so violent are you kiddingg meeeee

it’s bad enough he’s sleeping with a floozy on the regular but to take his wife’s money as well to fund that is actually beyond ballsy and insane. i hate them, justice for my girl fr 🫶🏽:(

Dean nodded, taking a deep breath. “That’s good…but, I need to head home for a little while.”

ngl I had to put my phone down for a moment and yell into a pillow because dean, what the hell man 😩

“Really. When did you figure that one out, in the whole week you’ve known me?” he asked. It was harsher than he meant to be, but he couldn’t help the words that were spilling out of his mouth. “Didn’t that get you in trouble the first time? I’d a thought you would’ve learned your lesson by now.”

oh dean, getting stabbed would’ve probably hurt less

He pulled you back into him, but you looked away from his imploring gaze. Your breaths grew shallow while you tried in vain to stop yourself from crying. It damn well broke his heart.

mine’s breaking too dean 😔 i’m just glad he’s trying to ‘fix it’ somewhat immediately instead of just letting her leave like that.

Except that you realized…this was goodbye. So you took advantage of every second of it.

yeah my heart is definitely broken 🥺 i’m glad they didn’t end things off with hostility and got to have that bittersweet moment at least 😔

Sam stared back at him, still with that frown. His guilt and reluctance to see Dean go was reflected in his eyes; those sad puppy dog eyes that used to get him out of almost any punishment with their parents when the boys were young. Before.

oh they’d work on me for sure 😭

Before Dean could get into the cab, Sam stopped him. Their gazes met, but in that moment, no words were needed.

They pulled one another into a firm hug.

…

Afterwards, Sam watched the yellow cab take his brother away to the train station, feeling a weight in his heart that wouldn’t subside.

He would never know that Dean felt exactly the same way. Except that impossible weight felt a lot like your hand, gently laid over his heart.

my heart aches, this chapter was so sad 😩 (not in a bad way!!🫶🏽) I feel for all three of them 😔🤍

“I just took a closer look at Milligan’s finances,” he said. “Before you go, there’s something you might want to know.”

ahhhhhh the cliffhanger! i’m guessing he found something illegal and/or dangerous 🤔 the preview is making me anxiousss, he better not hurt her! 😩

this was a wonderful chapter, very excited to see the drama unfold!!💗💗

BETWEEN THE CITY & THE STARS - Part 4

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: In the fall of 1945, Dean is having a difficult time assimilating back into civilian life after the War. He’s visiting his brother Sam in New York City, where he’s beginning to build up his law firm. At two minutes to closing time, you interrupt their evening to solicit a solicitor. Your request? You need help in order to divorce your husband.

AN: Now we get into the aftermath of the night before, with all the insecurity and heartbreak to go along with it. 💙

Jacklesverse Bingo24 Prompt: Historical Epic

Song Inspo: “Danke Shoen” by Wayne Newton

Word Count: 4K

Tags/Warnings: Mentions of cheating, angsty angst, trauma/PTSD, and a cliffhanger…

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Part 4: Complicit

Sam would give Michael one thing. The guy damn well knew how to drink.

He didn’t stop all night, throwing back whiskey like it was cheap beer. His words began to slur, his movements sloppy, but he was still coherent. When he got up to visit the men’s restroom, Sam got up as well. Maybe he could get Michael talking.

Sam stopped the other man from tripping into the urinal. The two laughed it off, with Michael thanking him before he unzipped to finish his business. Sam did the same.

After washing their hands, Sam looked over and noticed Michael’s gaze lingering on his own reflection in the mirror. It was becoming a rough sight—his blonde hair no longer neatly coiffed, purplish rings under his eyes, the stench of alcohol clinging to his skin and clothing.

“You all right there, Milligan?” Sam asked.

Michael ran a hand over his face, sighing when it didn’t get any better.

“Fine,” he replied. “So, Winchester. What did you say you do for work again? Something about your own business?”

Sam nodded. “I started up a law firm.”

That much, he had to be honest about. It was all too easy for someone to look up his name in the directory.

“Sounds like a good outfit,” Michael said, with an incline of his head. “Every lawyer I know wears a Rolex.”

Sam chuckled, glancing down at his father’s watch. “Well, I’m not quite there yet.”

“Someday soon, I’m sure,” said Michael. He bumped Sam conspiringly on the shoulder.

“And you?” Sam asked. “What’s keeping the lights on at your place?”

Michael raised a hand to sort through his unruly hair, a dirtier blonde in this unflattering light.

“Well, you could say I’ve inherited a business of my own,” he said. “I run a meat packing plant down in the district.”

Sam’s attention piqued. There had been a meat rationing during the war, even some rumors and propaganda about “meatleggers,” black market operators.

“How’s it been with the rations?” Sam asked. “Been hard to even find a good carton of eggs lately.”

Michael gave him a slight smile. “Been on the turnaround, actually. I’ve been able to make some connections with vendors outside the city. A little grease on the palms makes a little go a long way, if you catch my drift.”

Sam slowly smiled and nodded. A little grease on the palms, huh?

“Do what you gotta do in the times, ‘s what I say,” Sam agreed.

Michael snorted. “Now you’re talkin’. That’s all we can do, you know. Try to make a thing work, with whatever scraps we get. Try to stay afloat.”

“Try to stay alive,” Sam rejoined.

Michael made a low sound of approval. He became more contemplative, crossing his arms as he once again glanced at his reflection in the bathroom mirror. Sam’s gaze on the other man was perceptive, gaining ever closer to what seemed to be eating at the very core of him. Whether Sam actually believed what he was saying or not, each of his words was a test, a subtle nudge.

“You know,” Michael said. “I was shot down in France.”

Sam sobered further. Leaning against the counter, he retrieved two cigarettes and a lighter. He didn’t often smoke, but he thought it might keep the other man talking. He handed one over to Michael, and he took it gratefully. They lit up together and coiled musky tobacco smoke into the air.

“Where?” Sam asked.

Michael snorted, huffing a bit of smoke. “Lord knows. But when I woke up, I had stitches from here to here.”

He gestured to the back of his head, all the way to above his brow. It explained a small, but noticeable scar near his temple.

Michael shook his head. “The next chance I got, I married her.”

Sam’s brows rose. He knew you had been a nurse, but he hadn’t known this part of your story.

“A wartime romance, huh?” he said. Michael quirked a smile.

“She was my anchor,” he said. “After it was all said and done, she followed me here, held my feet down to the ground. Sometimes she had to hammer me down, ya know.”

He hesitated, his eyes somewhat glazing over. He stared over Sam’s shoulder at something only he could see.

“But sometimes…sometimes an anchor just feels suffocating,” he said. “Sometimes, you need to forget your own damn name. Forget that your entire life and mortgage is in a warehouse that might as well be a freezer full a’ dead cow meat. And still, it smells a hell of a lot better than lying on a dirty cot—where the last guy who had your spot probably got his leg sawed off.”

Michael considers the cigarette in his hand for a long while before he takes another puff.

Sam exhales smoke as well. He spent the last three years behind a desk, but he sees the same shaken core in Michael Milligan that he too often sees in his older brother.

“You know, Winchester, there’s two kinds of men,” Michael said, just a hint of a slur in his voice. “The ones who pray to live…and the ones who beg for it to be over.”

“And what kind of man are you now?” Sam asked. His tone was loose, but his gaze was sharp.

Michael snorted. He dabbed the butt of his cigarette on the inside of the sink before he threw it away.

“I’m the guy who can’t die,” he muttered.

He rolled his shoulders, as if to let the weight of his words and everything that came along with them to roll off his back. Then he pushed his way out of the bathroom, leaving Sam considering more than just half a cigarette.

That night after Dean left, you slept in the guest room instead of your bed. You couldn’t even bring yourself to sleep next to Michael when he stumbled in at four in the morning, especially now that you had seen his game with your own eyes.

However, you also felt complicit yourself the next morning. You felt…ashamed. You took your vows seriously. You had never in your life thought you would be someone so brazen. You never thought you would dishonor your husband as well as yourself.

And yet. All while you got ready for work, hearing Michael’s snores from the other room, your mind was filled with warmth and memory—of Dean. His smile, his voice, his eyes, his lips, and of course, his hands. You couldn’t decide which of them was your favorite, but his hands were high on the list.

You shouldn’t have let him in, you reminded yourself. You nibbled on your lower lip while you prepped the coffee maker. You should have told him goodnight at the door and saw him off. You should very well not have invited him up to the apartment, let alone drank with him, or let him touch you…

You paused while the sound of percolation and the smell of fresh coffee filled the kitchen. You looked up at yourself in the small mirror that hung on the wall. The woman looking back at you was conflicted at best.

Yes, you felt guilty. But at the same time, you didn’t. Was it really betraying your marriage if your husband had been doing far worse, and for God knew how long?

No. This wasn’t a marriage. This was a sham. A mockery of the very thing.

You frowned angrily and almost slammed the carafe on the counter when the coffee was done. Forcing yourself to take a few steadying breaths, you allowed that hate and anger to slowly drain out of you, and you smiled.

You marveled that you could smile at all, but it was only thanks to Dean Winchester.

What the hell am I doing?

Dean stared at the two bouquets of flowers. One was a bound bunch of red roses, the other was wildflowers and other colorful ones he didn’t know the names of. He was having a hard time deciding, namely because he didn’t know what kind of flowers you liked.

Because after all, he barely knew you.

He sighed down at the roses. They were pretty, but expensive. He could imagine your surprise, followed by your smile—the one that actually lit up your eyes and changed your whole face, made you sweeter, almost shy.

I’m buying flowers for a married woman.

The thought managed to make him pause, with a rough exhale of breath. The truth was, he’d crossed the line with you. More than once.

The hard part about it was, he didn’t really care. He did wonder if you cared.

He wondered if you’d be embarrassed to see him again. He wondered if you wanted to keep last night a memory, and nothing more. He wondered if he was better off booking his train home now, and leaving some kind of note for you with Sam. Dean didn’t think he wanted to see that look of mortification on your face, the whiskey finally cleared from your mind to see what he really was: a man with no job, no commitments, and very little prospects on the horizon.

“Ah, ‘scuse me,” a young man said from Dean’s left side.

“Oh, sorry,” Dean said, making way for the guy. He wasn’t quite as tall as Dean, lithe, blonde, and blue-eyed. He grabbed an arrangement of blue and yellow iris flowers from the case and took it up to the front. The florist seemed to recognize him.

“Oh, Michael! Been a while since I’ve seen you,” he said.

When the florist asked about you as well, the mention of your name rang between Dean’s ears. A feeling like inky claws raked through his chest; he raised his head from the roses and finally recognized Michael Milligan. He was the same man Dean had spotted in your wedding pictures hanging on the wall last night, right in the foyer.

“She’s all right,” Michael chuckled. “Truth be told, I’ve been working late this week. Hoping to surprise her tonight, take her out to dinner. Somewhere nice, you know.”

“Oh, really? Why don’t you take her to that nice steakhouse off of Broadway…” the florist twittered on as he continued to ring up Michael’s order.

Anger and disgust prickled under Dean’s skin, his fists clenched at his sides. More than anything, he wanted to turn around and lay your husband out flat. If he thought one little bouquet and a Salisbury steak was going to wash him clean, then he was an idiot as well as a selfish bastard.

But Dean knew, deep down, that Michael would be just as justified to throw a swing right back at him.

So Dean left the flowers, the flower shop, and the entire busy street and all its blaring sounds behind.

During your lunch break, you quickly made the trek over to Sam’s office. He’d called you this morning with a story that only confirmed everything you’d inherently felt, and yet, some of it still managed to shock you.

You didn’t even have the patience to wait until after work, but when you got there, he reassured you. It had taken him a few rounds of poker and discreetly following Michael and Dolores after they exited through the back of the club…but Sam had gotten the evidence not long after. They weren’t exactly discreet in the alley. Or in the nearby motel.

You had the envelope in hand filled with the pictures he’d developed from his camera.

“You don’t have to look,” he advised. “I wouldn’t recommend it.”

“No, I want to see it,” you said. You took the pictures out, and your expression didn’t change as you look through them all. Each position captured was more compromising than the next between Michael and Dolores Daye. Apparently, he was paying most of her bills as well with your combined household funds. So part of your own money was financing his exploits.

“I’m sorry,” Sam said. He was sincere, with those hazel eyes of his.

You nodded and gave him back the envelope. “What’s next?”

“I went ahead and filed the petition. I’ll take this right to the clerk’s office myself.”

“How long will it take to be over?”

“As long as Michael plays along, should be quick. A few months at most, after he’s served the divorce papers and signs them,” Sam assured.

A few months? That wasn’t quick enough in your book, but you agreed with a nod. You got up from the chair opposite his desk. You hesitated there.

“Oh, I meant to ask…how’s your brother?” you said.

Sam began to smile, but he tempered it. “He just called before you came in. He let me know he was stepping out for a walk.”

“Oh, really? Did he happen to say where?”

You not only found Dean in Central Park, but close to the very same bench you two had sat on yesterday and talked the night away. He was surprised, but he smiled when he saw you. Your pace quickened, until you were hastening over to him. He welcomed you into his arms. He bent his head towards yours, stopping just shy of kissing you. Instead, he pressed his forehead to yours for a moment.

“Well, look who’s here?” he teased. “How’d you find me?”

“I stopped by Sam’s office,” you said, holding onto the lapels of his coat. A cold November wind pushed at you both, ruffling your clothes. “The paperwork is on its way. Soon enough, I won’t be a married woman anymore.”

He tucked a wild strand of hair behind your ear and smiled, but it didn’t altogether reach his eyes.

“How soon is soon?” he asked.

“A few months, according to your brother.”

Dean nodded, taking a deep breath. “That’s good…but, I need to head home for a little while.”

That made you pause, tilting your head in confusion. Though you supposed it made sense. He was only here visiting his brother. He was planning on going home eventually.

But surely, that was before we… You lowered your gaze.

“Back to Lawrence?” you asked. Again, he nodded.

“I need to take care of some things, figure out my next move,” he said.

You pulled away from him to brace yourself, and not just against the cold. “Well, when will you be back?”

He stayed quiet, worrying you even more. There was a deep pit forming in your stomach, churning with unease.

“Dean?” you prodded.

He stepped back in to grasp your arms gently.

“Sweetheart…the truth is, I don’t have much to offer you,” he said. “I don’t have a business to inherit from my folks. I don’t even have a job. I’m a man who was about as useful as a jackhammer, until the war ended.”

You frowned, resting a hand against his chest. “Dean Winchester, that’s not all there is to you.”

You snatched your hand back, hurt filling your eyes. You turned to walk away before he saw your tears. You should have known. You should have known a man like him would never be serious. Not about you.

As soon as he let the words go, Dean realized what he was doing. Yeah, he was frustrated, but it wasn’t aimed at you. It couldn’t be aimed at you.

God knew he didn’t want to hurt you, or for you to hate him. He really couldn’t stomach either thought, so he relented and reached out to grab at your hand, before you could get too far.

“Wait,” he said, managing to pull you back to him. “I’m sorry.”

You tugged your hand to try and free yourself from his grasp.

“You know what, maybe you’re right,” you said, your voice wobbling with anger, dismay, and tears. “Maybe I ought to stop letting a man get even an inch into my heart. At this point, it’s my own fault.”

“Stop,” Dean demanded. “No, it’s not.”

He pulled you back into him, but you looked away from his imploring gaze. Your breaths grew shallow while you tried in vain to stop yourself from crying. It damn well broke his heart.

“It’s not your fault. I’m just an idiot,” He cupped your cheeks and wiped your tears as they fell. “But you…you deserve to be happy. With a man that can take care of you, protect you. A man who has a little more of his life figured out.”

“You’re just saying that so you have an excuse for toying with me. So you can keep chasing skirts,” you said, pushing at his chest. “Yes, your brother told me about all your little exploits.”

Dean took the blow, both proverbial and physical, with a raise of his brows. He guessed he couldn’t blame you for that one. Still, the disdain behind your words stung. He allowed you to break free of him.

You stepped back and straightened your clothes. You took in a deep breath that did nothing to calm you, and you uttered a humorless laugh.

“I suppose it makes sense. Why would you want anything to do with me?” You gestured down at yourself with a dismissive hand. “A-a walking mess. Even when I am divorced, that’s how people will see me. Damaged goods. I don’t even know how I’m gonna tell my parents.”

You covered your face against Dean and the rest of the world, and after weeks and months, you finally allowed yourself the one thing you hadn’t since your first inkling that your husband was being unfaithful. You finally allowed yourself to break.

The first sob shuddered through your body, followed by hot tears. You squeezed your eyes against them and wiped at your face in vain.

Dean broke too, in his own way. He gathered you into his arms, where he shushed you gently and pressed a kiss to your forehead.

“I wasn’t giving you an excuse,” he said.

Despite how much you wanted to push him away, the deep, steady timbre of his voice pierced you and soothed you at the same time.

“I meant every word I said. I may not be the right guy for you, but don’t you dare take a scrap of what anyone else might say, you hear me?” he said firmly. “You’re beautiful. You don’t suffer fools like me, and you’re better than that sad sack excuse of a man deserves.”

You looked up at him with watery eyes.

“You’re a lot of things, Dean Winchester, but you’re not a fool.”

He shook his head, not wanting to argue with you anymore. He just kissed you, deeply, thoroughly, the way you always imagined a kiss should be.

Except that you realized…this was goodbye. So you took advantage of every second of it.

You met him with as much as he gave and reached up to touch his cheek. It felt a little rough under your fingers, just like you remembered. You would probably always remember that feeling, long after you left the park.

That evening, you packed as many bags as you could. You put together the savings you’d been collecting for a few months. It had been at your coworker Jess’s advice, ever since you started feeling the inkling that something wasn’t right in your marriage.

After you were all packed, you took one last, long look at the space you had tried to make your home. With one last tear trailing your cheek, you stepped out of the apartment. You took the bus uptown, where you later checked into a hotel.

When your husband finally got home from work, he would find a one-page letter written in your own hand.

For once, Sam was actually home in his apartment. He was helping Dean take his suitcase to the front door after calling a taxi to come shortly. Sam wasn’t happy about it though.

“You don’t have to go so soon, Dean,” said Sam.

Dean gave a humorless laugh. He grabbed his coat from the rack and threw it on.

“I’ve gotta get back to the house. It’s already been empty too long,” he said. Three years too long. “Fact is, I’m just getting in your way here.”

He couldn’t quite meet Sam’s eyes as he went to the door, but Sam stopped him with a pressing hand on his arm, tugging him back.

“Hey,” Sam said, his brows furrowed. “That’s not true. Where’d you get that idea?”

Dean raised his brows. “You mean the way you’ve haven’t been home more than a few hours a night? The way the only time I see you is if I go find you at that office. You should open up a Bed n’ Breakfast there. You’d make a double killing in this town.”

Sam wilted. “Dean, we opened the firm barely a month ago. I’m just trying to—”

Dean laid a hand on his shoulder, relenting.

“Hey, look. I’m not judging you, Sammy. I’m not,” he said. “You’re building something. I know that. I just need to go figure out how to do the same, whatever that means for me.”

The corner of Dean’s mouth kicked up into a smirk.

“Don’t worry. I’ll see you again soon,” he said.

“How soon is soon?” Sam asked. It was something their mother used to say to John whenever he called late, promising he’d come home after long days in town buying supplies for the farm.

“The divorce papers will be served to Michael Milligan,” Sam added, pointedly raising his brows. “She…could use your support.”

Dean’s smile faded at the mention of you. His hand slipped from Sam’s shoulder.

“She’s got a strong head on her shoulders. She’ll be all right,” he said. He heard the honk of the taxi outside. He grabbed up his hat, set it on his head, and took up his bags. He turned back to Sam at the last moment. “I’m sure you’ll look out for her.”

It was somehow both a question, and an imploring charge. Sam sighed, but he nodded in agreement. His brother could be so very stubborn. Once he got an idea of what he thought he needed to do, there was almost no talking him out of it.

Sam opened the door for him and walked him out to the car, helping him with his bags. Before Dean could get into the cab, Sam stopped him. Their gazes met, but in that moment, no words were needed.

They pulled one another into a firm hug.

I’m sorry. I should’ve been there more for you.

Don’t worry about it. It’s already forgotten.

Dean released him first with a smile, and a heavy pat of Sam’s shoulder. He turned and climbed into the cab’s backseat. Afterwards, Sam watched the yellow cab take his brother away to the train station, feeling a weight in his heart that wouldn’t subside.

He would never know that Dean felt exactly the same way. Except that impossible weight felt a lot like your hand, gently laid over his heart.

Dean took up his suitcase as the train pulled into the station. He stepped up onto the platform and retrieved the ticket from his pocket, but he paused, hearing a familiar voice shouting his name.

He turned his head and saw Sam rushing to meet him at the platform.

“What’s the matter? What’re you doing here?” Dean asked in surprise. He didn’t like the wary apprehension written across Sam’s face.

“I just took a closer look at Milligan’s finances,” he said. “Before you go, there’s something you might want to know.”

AN: Come on, we needed at least one cliffhanger in this series! 😘 What do you think Sam rushed over to tell Dean? What did you think about their "goodbye," as well as her and Dean's goodbye? ...And are you ready for all the drama that's about to go down? lol

Next Time:

Except the loud, insistent knock on the door broke you out of your thoughts. Straightening up with a frown, you set down your glass and went over to the door. Maybe it was Housekeeping coming up to bring you the fresh towels you asked for. The ones that had been laid out in the bathroom smelled musty.

You opened the door to a tall frame taking up room in the doorway. It was Michael, standing there both disheveled and steaming mad. He held your letter crumpled in his left hand.

“Michael, what—what’re you doing here?” you gasped and stepped back. He followed you inside the room and slammed it shut. He looked around at your open suitcases in disbelief, then finally at you.

“What’s this supposed to mean, huh?” he demanded to know. He shook the flimsy piece of paper at you.

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thepoisonroom · 1 year ago

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i know modern dating is a hell because i once went on a date with this lady and when we were about to kiss i pulled back and went "oh sorry i thought we were a vase for a second" and she didn't like that in the least

#i was out there wasting my best material on audiences who were giving me nothing #personal nonsense #i do think my girlfriend gives me credit for being funny when even when i am being earnest which makes me feel very charming #she works in law and when we met i was like oh can i ask you a work-related question #and she was like big sigh assuming i was going to ask for legal advice #and i was like sorry but where do you buy your suits? and she did a very friendly laugh that made me feel super at ease #she was also very nice about it when i got too high and was telling her it makes me anxious that #i can't tell if zoomers who say slay a lot are gay or just very logged on #she was like 'oh i'm sorry for laughing you're just being very darling' and i was like 🥺🥺🥺#sorry for girlfriendposting so much she's just the best partner i've ever been with!

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ashored · 2 months ago

Note

share your ship tier list for nami...if you have one! :-)

hi anon! i made this tier list up just for you. instead of making it 'my' ship tier list though i made it how i think nami would feel about some characters...

but pretty much (nearly) anyone at the 'friends' tier or higher i can see romance potentially blossoming!

#🔱 ooc #🔱 ask #anonymous #sorry as well for the amount of categories i like making a lot u.u #i think i'm pretty bad when it comes it shipping in general #but i like nami tama and loto together a whole lot!#and like the relations nami can have with other champions with the other two or otherwise.#and nearly anyone can be her friend i think fdgjk i dont mean the 'finds you cute (derogatory) too seriously #i just think its more likely shell be patronising before building an actual connection (sorry) (she doesnt mean to be)#if youd like to know where an absent character would be placed feel free to ask! 🥺#the characters ive put in are a mix of have interacted in canon. are connected thematically. ive interacted with and could-#see a relation being built. or ships ive noticed in the fandom and wanted to give my 2 cents #anywave... these are also just my personal thoughts !!#i hope people have fun with the dynamics they have that go against mine or arent listed #i didnt even talk about verse differences either....

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hem1ock · 2 years ago

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inconsolably emotional over this comment on a stuffed animal cleaning video

#also look at this little cat 🥺 he was so dirty at the start and they cleaned him so well #it reminded me of when i last cleaned my old stuffed cat #i can never get her back to her original color. she was orange and it just faded over time a lot so she's a dull brown now #but i cleaned her up a little and brushed and fluffed her #even got risky and did surgery to give her some more stuffing so she could sit upright again #and she looked so beautiful!!!!#her eyes and nose are chipped and her whiskers have been gone for a long time too but i cant fix that #i dont need to tho i think it adds character :^)#srry im rambling now i just love my stuffed cat dearly. ive had her since i was 2 #tldr i love stuffed animals #i think caring for them is such a beautiful and pure form of love #to know they aren't real but still treat them gently. just because it feels good to. ❤️#my posts

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trippinsorrows · 18 hours ago

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my God, this has been such a journey! i can't believe we've reached the end of the road! this was such a wild, beautiful, chaotic ride that we've been on, and i wouldn't have it any other way!

this entire chapter was difficult to read for so many reasons. as expected, and as makes most sense, poor ivy is struggling. i think the line that really got me was when she didn't even know or realize how long he'd kept her. that was heartbreaking.

baby girl needing and wanting to sleep with her mama. her safe person. that was also devastating. roman didn't just traumatize them. he stole their sense of safety and security. all the therapy and healing in the world won't give either of them back 1000% of what they lost, and that' just heartbreaking.

even my good sis, duchess! thank you so much for not killing her off, btw. animal deaths in works of fiction always gut me to my core. 😭

ivy also feeling responsible for gemini and angelo's murders was not entirely surprising but still hard to read. the fact that both were killed when she wasn't on good terms with them is something so heavy and depressing. ivy is a fictional character, sure, but her story, sadly, isn't far off from a lot of people.

now mateo??? i knew that nigga was still alive! the way you wrote him being shot left the door cracked open just enough for him to survive, and sadly, i'm right. i'm not sure if i believe in the death penalty or not, but his ass should have been put down. he is literally too dangerous to be kept alive, and he keeps proving it!

there's a sadness i have in imagining how this would all end realistically speaking, but i choose to believe that cody says fuck it, tracks crazah down, and puts an end to this all. because ivy not only having to deal with mateo escaping but also being impregnated with his child, a child conceived out of rape, is a type of trauma i don't want to think about. 😭

once again, thank you so much for creating such a wonderful, amazing, tough read. also, again, my being the therapist to work with ivy is literally the coolest thing ever. i wanna print and frame this masterpiece somewhere, i swear. 😭❤️🥺

The Boy Next Door: The Final Chapter

MASTERLIST ✨ harmshake’s masterlist ✨ msbigredmachine’s masterlist

Word Count: 9.2k

💥TRIGGER WARNING: This chapter contains DARK THEMES. Please proceed with caution💥

“A quiet Connecticut suburb, forever scarred by the horrors hidden within one of its most luxurious homes.”

The news anchor droned on, her voice steady and professional, but still laced with the brand of disbelief that accompanied covering something too monstrous to fully comprehend.

“Authorities have confirmed that Mateo Hobbs, the serial killer Florida law enforcement has been tracking for the past eighteen months, has been apprehended. Linked to multiple kidnappings and murders spanning the East Coast, Hobbs recently embedded himself in an affluent Hartford, Connecticut neighborhood, hiding in plain sight.

“Perceived as a quiet, unassuming neighbor, Hobbs, using the alias Roman Reigns, was in reality, a ruthless, sociopathic predator. With deep ties to the notorious Samoan Sons crime syndicate in California, he’s alleged to have orchestrated a string of brutal crimes from Georgia to Florida all the way up to Connecticut, leaving a trail of devastation in his wake.

His reign of terror came to a violent end yesterday when he was shot by authorities during a tense hostage standoff in the basement of his Hartford mansion.”

The scene cut to an aerial view of Roman’s sprawling mansion, its pristine exterior now marred by crime scene tape and the steady movement of forensic teams. Uniformed officers and cadaver dogs scoured the property, methodically searching the grounds, the basement, and hidden crawl spaces for any remaining evidence of his crimes.

“His latest victim, Ivy Jones, a registered nurse and a single mother of one, had been missing for nine harrowing days. Jones, who was Hobbs’ next door neighbor and rumored to be his lover, was found in his basement, in critical condition but alive. Investigators say she was subjected to severe physical and psychological torture before she was found by authorities. Sources close to the case confirm that she was not the first woman to suffer at Hobbs’ hands—but so far, she has been the only one to make it out alive.

“Hobbs has now been linked to many more unsolved murders including the brutal killing of a pregnant woman whose remains were discovered months ago in a shallow ditch in the woods in this very neighborhood. Further investigation led authorities to a horrifying discovery within the basement of his mansion—two bodies, decomposing in separate barrels. The victims have been identified as local fitness coach Bianca Belair and attorney Gemini Beaufort. Both women had been reported missing in recent weeks, their disappearances previously unexplained.”

A pause, heavy with implication and omen.

“While authorities believe Hobbs acted alone, the full scope of his crimes remains unknown. Investigators are combing through evidence recovered from the property, searching for additional victims. The case remains open, and the search for answers continues.”

The broadcast cut to a clear image of Roman Reigns, reduced to a face on a screen, forever tied to death and destruction.

“For now, the nightmare is over. But for those who suffered at his cold, callus hands, the scars remain.”

Ivy drifted toward consciousness at a snail’s pace, the world around her emerging in fragments. First came the sterile scent of antiseptic, a smell she knew all too well. Then the steady, rhythmic beeping of a heart monitor, the faint hum of fluorescent lights, the muffled voices of nurses and doctors moving through the halls.

A heavy fog clung to her thoughts, making it difficult to pull herself fully into wakefulness. Her body ached—deep, radiating pain that pulsed through her limbs and settled in her chest. She inhaled, the simple act an effort, her ribs protesting with a dull, bruising throb.

She shifted slightly, and that was when she became aware of the wires. The thin, plastic tubing taped to her arm, the small pinch where an IV needle was inserted into her skin. It was wrong. Foreign. She was always the one on the other side of the hospital bed, checking vitals, adjusting drips, reassuring patients. Never the one lying there, helpless, under observation.

Her eyelashes fluttered as she forced her heavy lids open. The room was shadowed in a pale yellow light spilling from the small lamp in the corner. The walls were the soft, muted green she recognized from the hospital ward where she worked.

Her hospital.

A sharp breath hitched in her throat as reality came rushing back in a cold, unforgiving wave.

Roman.

The basement.

The gun in her hand, trembling, the trigger pulling back.

The gunshots. The stunned look in his eyes.

The thud of his body hitting the floor.

Her stomach clenched, nausea rolling through her. Her fingers instinctively curled into the stiff white sheets beneath her, her body trembling at the memory. The horror of it still clung to her, wrapped around her like invisible chains.

Ivy’s eyes flickered frantically around the dim hospital room, her breath coming in quick, shallow gasps. Panic clawed at her chest until they landed on a familiar, curled-up form on the floor near the hospital bed.

Duchess was asleep, her body rising and falling with deep, even breaths. A thick bandage was wrapped around her stomach, a stark reminder of Roman’s cruelty. Ivy’s throat tightened at the sight, guilt and sorrow intertwining. He had hurt her too. But she was here—alive. Loyal as ever.

Swallowing hard, Ivy tore her gaze away and searched further.

Zaia.

She was nestled in Becky’s arms, her tiny face tucked against the older woman’s chest, her dark curls tousled from sleep. Becky sat stiffly in the chair, her red-rimmed eyes wide as they locked onto Ivy’s. It was as if she had been afraid to blink, afraid Ivy would disappear if she looked away.

“You’re awake,” Becky breathed, her voice brimming with relief.

Ivy managed a faint, weary smile in acknowledgment, but her focus remained solely on her daughter. With what little strength she had, she whispered, “Zaia…Baby…” Her voice barely more than a breath, but it was enough.

Zaia stirred, her small body shifting as she blinked groggily. Then, as her vision cleared, she saw her mother; awake, eyes open, alive.

“Mama!”

In an instant, she was wriggling out of Becky’s hold, her small feet hitting the tiled floor. However, Becky caught her before she could rush toward the hospital bed, her hands shaking as she wiped at her tear-streaked cheeks.

"Ivy," Becky’s voice cracked, "Can she…can she climb in?"

"Yes." Ivy barely got the word out before her arms were reaching, aching to hold her child, to feel her warmth, to reassure herself that she was real. That she was safe.

Becky carefully helped Zaia into the bed, minding the wires and the IV. The little girl clung to her mother like a lifeline, her small body trembling, her sobs muffled against Ivy’s faded lilac hospital gown.

Ivy held her just as tightly, pressing her lips to Zaia’s curls, breathing her in, as if the scent of her baby could chase away the lingering nightmares. Tears streamed down her face as she rocked her gently, whispering soft reassurances, "I’m here, baby. Mama’s here. I gotchu."

Zaia hiccupped between sobs, her fingers clutching at Ivy’s hospital gown. "I thought…I thought you weren’t coming back," she whispered. “I thought you were gonna d—”

The hopelessness in her tone cracked Ivy’s heart wide open. "Never, baby. I will always come back to you," she promised, her voice raw with emotion. "Always."

Becky wiped at her face, watching them, barely holding herself together. “She wouldn’t sleep,” she choked out. “She kept asking for you. I tried to calm her down. Told her not to be scared.”

Her voice wavered, and Ivy could see it; etched in the tightness around Becky’s eyes, in the way her lips trembled. Becky now knew what had happened in that house, the horrors Ivy had endured.

Blinking rapidly, Becky cleared her throat. “I’m gonna go find a nurse,” she said gently, her hand lingering on Ivy’s arm for just a moment. “I’m so glad you’re okay.”

Ivy didn’t answer.

Because she couldn't bring herself to tell the truth. That she wasn’t okay.

Pushing all that aside, Ivy tightened her hold on her daughter, pressing her lips to the crown of her head, breathing her in. Nothing else existed. Nothing else would ever matter again.

"My sweet baby," she murmured, pressing her cheek against her daughter's. "My snuggle bug. I love you. More than anything. More than life itself."

Zaia sniffled, her little arms tightening around her mother’s neck. "I love you too, Mama."

The machines beeped softly in the background, the sterile hospital room surrounding them, but none of it mattered. In that moment, the only thing that existed was the warmth of her daughter in her arms, the unshakeable, unbreakable bond between them.

As the day wore on, Ivy felt exhaustion settle deep into her bones, dragging down every limb. The hospital room felt unbearably small, the steady beep of the monitor beside her too loud in the quiet. Duchess lay curled in her lap, her warm body a source of quiet comfort as Ivy absently stroked her fur. Across the room, Zaia slept soundly on the couch, her small frame rising and falling with each peaceful breath. Ivy glanced over at her daughter, a weary ache pressing against her chest. Their reunion had been everything; painful, overwhelming, much needed. It was the first time since her hellish ordeal that she’d felt even the faintest spark of life in her chest.

A soft knock on the door made her tense.

Lilian, her boss and the head nurse, stepped inside, her expression gentle but firm. “Ivy,” she said carefully, “there are two people here who need to speak with you.”

Ivy’s stomach twisted, but she managed a nod.

Lilian stepped aside, allowing them to enter.

The tall man with striking blonde hair stepped forward first. Ivy recognized him immediately; it was he who shot Roman in the back. The one who ended it.

Behind him, a woman followed, dressed professionally but with an air of quiet confidence. Ivy couldn’t recall her name; she only remembered she was the last face she saw before waking in this bed.

The man’s expression was calm yet serious as he broke the thin ice. “Miss Jones,” he greeted, with a frail semblance of warmth. “I’m Detective Cody Rhodes.” He gestured to the woman beside him. “And this is Lieutenant Jade Cargill. We’re with Florida PD, handling the Mateo Hobbs case—or Roman, as you know him.”

At the mention of that name, Ivy flinched, her breath hitching.

Her reaction made Cody hesitate, but only briefly. “We wanted to check in on you… and also, if you’re up for it, ask a few questions.”

Jade’s approach was softer. She stepped closer, her eyes warm and understanding. “I know this is difficult,” she said gently. “But whatever you can tell us will help.”

Ivy swallowed the burn in her throat. She knew this moment would come, but she wasn’t ready. She didn’t think she ever would be. But she had to.

Duchess nuzzled into her, as if sensing her unease. Ivy absorbed the comfort, steadying herself.

Cody and Jade watched Ivy. Waited, patient.

She forced herself to breathe, to start. “He…” Her voice cracked. She pressed her fingers into her temples. “I don’t know how long he kept me down there for…a week, a month...”

Jade sat on the edge of the bed, her body turned slightly toward Ivy, giving her space but offering silent support.

“From what we gathered, it was nine days,” Jade said softly.

Ivy’s nails dug into her palms. She thought she could do this. She thought she could get the words out, but the second she tried, it was like reliving everything all over again.

Roman’s voice. His hands. His snide, cruel laugh.

Jade’s hand rested lightly on her arm. “It’s okay,” she soothed. “You don’t have to push yourself.”

Ivy took a shaky breath, clutching Duchess tighter, her voice barely above a whisper. “Gemini was in the basement with me. She was…she was dead when I found her…He killed her…”

She squeezed her eyes shut, shame flooding her veins. The last time they had spoken, Ivy had pushed her away. She had been cold. Dismissive. And now, Gemini was dead.

She would never forgive herself for it.

Her fingers curled into the sheets, her entire body trembling as a sob caught in her throat.

“He r-raped me. Over and over and over…”

The words barely left her mouth before a violent shudder overtook her entire body. Her breath expelled in short, sharp gasps as her tears obscured her vision. It felt as though a steel band had closed around her ribs, squeezing, suffocating. Her stomach lurched, bile lurking in the back of her throat.

The memory barreled into her like a truck, brutal and unforgiving; Roman’s weight crushing her, his hands pinning her down, his harsh breath in her ear, the unbearable pain, the helplessness…

Her body convulsed with deep, gut-wrenching sobs.

Jade moved instantly, wrapping an arm around Ivy’s shoulders, grounding her, steadying her. “Breathe, Ivy,” she murmured, rubbing slow, soothing circles into her back. “We’re here. You’re safe.”

Ivy gasped, grasping her chest as if trying to rip something out, that terrifying thing buried deep inside her. “I couldn’t stop him,” she sobbed. “I begged, I fought...I—I—”

Jade tightened her grip on Ivy’s arm. “It's okay, Ivy,” she goaded.

She turned, blinking up at her, desperate. “Is he dead?” she rasped. “Please tell me he’s dead.”

A heavy silence fell over the room.

Rhodes and Jade exchanged a glance, something unreadable passing between them.

Cody exhaled. “He had a pulse in the ambulance.”

The world around her screeched to a halt.

Her chest constricted so violently it felt like her ribs were caving in. Her fingers clenched the sheets so tightly that her knuckles ashened, her nails digging into the fabric as if trying to ground herself, to hold onto something—anything that would stop the panic from swallowing her whole.

“He’s alive?” she whispered, a frightened, broken rasp.

“Barely,” Cody said carefully, disgusted at himself that he didn’t get the job done.

Jade leaned forward. “He’s being transferred out of state. He’s going to a maximum-security federal prison in Montana. Miles and miles away. He won’t be able to hurt you or anyone else ever again.”

Ivy could barely breathe. The walls felt like they were closing in. A sharp, ice-cold terror slithered down her spine, wrapping around her like a vice.

Cody’s voice was firm, absolute. “We failed the first time. We should have put him away. That won’t happen again. He’s never getting out.”

Jade squeezed Ivy’s arm. “You’ll never see him again. We promise.”

Ivy wanted to believe them. She wanted to trust that this was over.

But Roman had stolen so much from her.

And no matter how far away they sent him, she didn’t know if she’d ever feel safe again.

Sitting stiffly on the plush couch, her hands clenched together in her lap. The familiar scent of lavender and vanilla filled the air, a salt lamp casting warm hues against the walls. Dr. Ari’s office had never felt like a psychotherapist’s office. No stiff leather chairs, no sterile white walls. Instead, it was warm, inviting, with bookshelves lined with novels and plants cascading from their pots. Ivy used to love this space, used to tell Ari how she had the coziest office in the hospital. It had never felt clinical. Never cold.

Today, it felt suffocating.

Dr. Ari sat across from her, notebook resting lightly in her lap, her expression open, patient. She wasn’t just a colleague today. She was Ivy’s therapist. And right now, that made her feel like the enemy.

“I know this isn’t where you want to be,” Ari said gently. “But I appreciate you being here.”

Ivy didn’t respond. She kept her gaze on the floor, on the delicate weave of the rug beneath her feet.

“Let’s start small,” Ari continued. “How have you been sleeping?”

Ivy exhaled slowly. A question she could answer.

“Not great,” she admitted. “I wake up a lot.”

“Nightmares?”

A short nod. An understatement. The dreams weren’t just bad…They were choking, nausea-inducing. Literally, sometimes.

Ari didn’t push, didn’t ask for details. Not yet. Instead, she shifted slightly. “And Zaia? How is she doing?”

At the mention of her daughter, Ivy’s hands tightened in her lap. “She sleeps in my bed every night now,” she said. “She’s…not the same. Not as lively.”

Ari nodded knowingly. “She’s been through so much.”

Too much. More than any child should endure. Losing her father. Losing Gemini. Watching Gable’s head get blown off. Witnessing such violence firsthand. It wasn’t fair.

Ari let a beat pass before asking, “And Duchess?”

Ivy glanced toward the dog bed by the door, where the puppy lay, watching the two women carefully. “She won’t leave my side.”

Ari hummed in understanding. “She’s protecting you.”

Ivy swallowed against the tightness in her throat. She’d tried to protect her in Roman’s house, took a kick to the ribs for her. Words could never fully express how grateful she was for her bravery.

The silence crawled by like a serpent, cold, slithering. Ari’s voice was softer when she spoke again. “Ivy…do you feel responsible for Gemini’s death?”

She flinched.

Her stomach clenched, her nails biting into her palms. Though she had been expecting the question, it didn’t make it any easier to hear.

“She warned me,” she whispered, “Over and over again. She told me he was dangerous. She told me not to trust him. And I—I defended him.” Her breath hitched. “I let him in. Because of me, she’s gone.”

Her chest constricted under the crushing weight of the truth—Gemini had died trying to protect her. The evidence in her bag confirmed it. The police investigation unearthed even worse horrors: Roman had planted a camera in Gemini’s bedroom, watching her every move. The street cams showed him chasing her back into her house, murdering her, and stealing her bag and her car to erase the proof. Traces of her blood and his DNA smeared across her kitchen like a signature of death.

All because of her.

Ari let her sit with the words for a moment before she said, “That’s not true, Ivy, this wasn’t your fault.”

Ivy let out a bitter, humorless laugh. “Then whose was it?”

Ari held Ivy’s gaze, steady and sure. “The man who killed her.”

Her throat tightened. “I should have seen it.”

Ari shook her head. “He manipulated you, Ivy. You weren’t supposed to see it.”

A tear slipped down her cheek.

“I thought he loved me.”

Ari nodded, not interrupting, not rushing her.

“I—I was so stupid. I fell for him. Oldest fucking trick in the book. I let him into my life. I let him near my daughter.” Her voice cracked, self-loathing thick in her tone. “I slept next to him. I trusted him.”

Ari shifted slightly in her chair. “Again, that is not your fault.”

“Isn’t it?” Another bitter laugh. “I should have known. I should have seen it. I—I kept giving him the benefit of the doubt. I defended him.” Her breath hitched. “And all the while, he was killing people. He murdered innocent women. Angelo. Gemini.”

Ari gave her a moment before speaking again. “You didn’t know, Ivy. You weren’t the only one he deceived.”

Ivy clenched her jaw, forcing herself to breathe through the crippling guilt. She wanted to believe Ari. But how could she?

Her daughter’s father. Her best friend. Gone. Because of her stupidity.

The pain was unbearable.

And then—

“Can you talk to me about what he did to you in the basement?”

Everything inside Ivy recoiled. Her body went rigid, suddenly forgetting the simple function of breathing.

The basement…

Her mind fought against the flood of memories, but it was useless. The cold, the dark, the endless hours of terror. The feel of his hands on her body. His voice.

Ari’s voice remained gentle. “Ivy, the police confirmed that Roman ra—”

“I don’t wanna talk about it!”

The words came out too sharp, too loud in the quiet room. Her heart pounded, her vision hazing at the edges.

Ari didn’t flinch. She simply nodded. “Okay. We don’t have to—not until you’re ready.”

Ivy sucked in a trembling breath, but it felt like she couldn’t get enough air.

Dr. Ari leaned forward slightly, her voice steady yet soft, like she was trying to anchor Ivy to the present. “But I need you to understand something. Your trauma...It won’t just go away on its own. You’ve survived something unimaginable. You need to let yourself process it.”

Ivy barely heard her. The words echoed distantly, dull and meaningless, as if they belonged to someone else’s story.

She had uttered similar words before. Had stood at bedsides, held trembling hands, looked into the vacant eyes of survivors and tried to offer comfort wrapped in clinical certainty. She had repeated the script so many times, assuring patients that healing was possible, that time and therapy would mend what had been broken.

But never—never—had she imagined those words would be spoken to her.

And just like all the patients she had treated, she didn’t believe them.

Because how could anyone come back from this? How did she process something that had gutted her, left her hollowed out and rotting from the inside? Roman had taken everything from her; her safety, her body, her trust. The horrors lurked stubbornly just behind her eyelids, shadows of memories she wasn’t ready to face.

After another long pause, Ari spoke again. “Avoidance won’t make them go away, Ivy. They’ll fester.”

Ivy swallowed hard. “I don’t care.”

“I think you do.”

“I just wanna go home. I wanna be with my daughter.”

Ari studied her carefully. “Zaia needs you to heal, Ivy.”

Her eyes stung. She looked away, her fingers digging into the fabric of her sleeves.

“I can’t,” she whispered. “I can’t do this!”

“You can,” Ari insisted, firmly but kindly. “And you don’t have to do it alone.”

Ivy’s shoulders trembled.

Ari didn’t say anything else. She just let Ivy sit there, let her hold onto the silence like a fragile thread keeping her together.

And then, without warning, the dam broke.

A sob tore from Ivy’s throat, raw and gut-wrenching. She folded in on herself, shaking, gasping for breath between broken cries. The pain, the guilt, the fear—it all crashed over her at once.

Ari moved from her chair, settling beside her on the couch. She didn’t speak. She didn’t try to quiet her. She just sat there, her presence solid and unwavering as her patient let it all out.

Minutes passed before Ivy could calm down. She swiped at her tear-streaked face, her body exhausted from the weight of it all.

Ari handed her a tissue, waiting as she wiped at her swollen eyes.

“Same time next week?” Ari asked softly.

Ivy hesitated. The thought of doing this again, of dredging up more of the darkness, made her stomach churn.

But she had no choice.

She nodded weakly. “Yeah.”

Ari gave her a small, reassuring smile. “We’ll take it one step at a time.”

Ivy didn’t answer. She stared down at the crumpled tissue in her hands, her fingers tightening around it as if she could squeeze the pain out of herself.

One step at a time.

The words felt meaningless.

How could she take another step forward when every part of her felt shattered beyond repair?

As she stood on shaky legs and left Ari’s office, the world outside felt too bright, too normal.

And Ivy…

Ivy wasn’t normal anymore.

She wasn’t sure she ever would be again.

The sky hung low and gray, thick with the weight of a late November chill as Gemini’s funeral unfolded. The world seemed to mourn with them, the clouds heavy, threatening snow but offering nothing—just the quiet, biting wind that cut through coats and scarves. It was the week before Thanksgiving, but there was no warmth, no gratitude. Only grief.

This was the second funeral Ivy had attended in the span of a few months, and her heart could hardly withstand another. First Angelo, now Gemini. Two people who had meant the world to her. It felt unbearable, cruel. She had no more tears to cry, yet they still came, silent and unrelenting, as she clutched Zaia’s small, gloved hand in hers. Her daughter had barely recovered from burying her father, and now she was here, standing beside another fresh grave, saying goodbye to another adult who had loved her.

Gemini’s funeral was private, yet the quiet opulence of her family still bled into the event. The headstones surrounding her final resting place were regal, etched with gold, the markers of a family that had always carried itself with elegance. She was being laid to rest between her parents, a cruel sort of symmetry. Gemini had always missed them, always longed for them, and now, she would be with them forever.

Nearby, Raquel and Kelani, her colleagues and friends, stood, shoulders shaking, their eyes rimmed red from an endless flow of tears. They weren’t just coworkers; they were her sisters, her allies in a field dominated by men, who had loved and respected her fiercely. It was impossible to imagine their firm without her bold voice ringing through the halls, her confidence filling every room, her laughter turning the most grueling days into something bearable.

For three years, Gemini had been a constant in Ivy’s life; a force of nature, vibrant and unstoppable. She was the life of every party, the loudest voice in the room, the kind of friend who made the impossible feel within reach. Ivy had not imagined a world without her in a long, long time.

And yet, here she was.

Watching helplessly as Gemini was lowered into the cold ground, her laughter silenced, her light extinguished forever.

Ivy’s breath hitched, her chest tightening with the unbearable truth. Gem had been more than a friend. She had been a lifeline, a sister in all the ways that mattered. And now, because of the choices Ivy had made, that lifeline had been severed.

She could do nothing but stand there, numb and broken, as the earth swallowed what remained of her best friend.

Beside Ivy, Leo Beaufort stood motionless, his broad frame rigid in a perfectly tailored black suit. His presence was unmistakable—tall, striking, and composed—but there was a weight to him now, a quiet devastation pressing into his shoulders.

Gemini’s twin brother was her mirror. The other half of her soul. Ivy had known him as long as she’d known his sister. She had seen him laugh, tease, argue with Gemini in the way only siblings could. But she had never seen him like this—silent, stripped of the easy confidence he always carried.

As Gemini’s casket sank lower into the earth, Ivy felt him exhale, a breath so shallow it barely existed. He didn’t move, didn’t speak, didn’t cry. But the grief radiating from him was as heavy as the sky pressing down on them.

As the final words faded into the cold afternoon air and mourners began to drift away, Ivy forced herself to look up at him.

Something inside her cracked at the look on his face. His expression was raw, anguished, the tears he'd been holding in finally spilling forth.

Without a word, she pulled him into a crushing embrace. She felt the tremor in his tall body, his pain pressing into her own, bleeding together in the worst way.

“I’m so sorry, Leo,” she murmured, heartbroken for him.

“I felt it that day. When she…went,” he whispered against her temple, his voice unsteady. “I was in Tokyo, and I felt it. Half of my soul—shattered.” A ragged breath. “I knew something was terribly wrong. I just couldn’t get to her fast enough.”

Ivy’s lungs tightened, shame sinking its claws into her. “I was awful to her before she passed,” she admitted, the confession digging into her like a knife to the heart. “We fought, and I…” Her voice broke. “I never got to make it right.”

Leo pulled back just enough to cup her face in his hands, his touch startlingly gentle despite the storm inside him. His dark eyes, hollow with pain, burned with something else too—something resolute.

“Ivy, listen to me,” he said, steady and firm. “Gem knew you loved her. She loved you just as much. Whatever happened between you don’t change that.” His grip tightened, willing her to believe him. “This was not your fault. You gotta forgive yourself. Please. She’d want you to. I want you to.”

She wanted to. God, how she wanted to. But the weight of her regret felt immovable, crushing her beneath it. And maybe, deservedly so.

As Leo finally let her go, Ivy turned slightly, her gaze landing on another familiar figure standing just a few feet away.

Officer Hayes. Carmelo.

Equally lost. Equally broken.

The sharp, smooth, composed policeman was gone, replaced by a man drowning in grief. His sunglasses shielded his eyes, but they couldn’t hide the way his body shook, the way his shoulders curled inward, as if the magnitude of his sorrow was too much to bear.

Ivy took a slow step forward, then another, until she was standing beside him. A long, painful stretch of silence.

“I imagined a life with her,” he spoke up, his voice hoarse as he removed his sunglasses to wipe at his eyes. “Marriage. A family. I thought…I thought I had more time.” A sharp breath. “I didn’t do enough to stop this.”

Ivy turned to him, shaking her head. “Don’t,” she pleaded. “Don’t blame yourself.”

“How can I not?” His jaw clenched. “I never thought he was a threat. Never looked at him twice. And that’s the problem.” His voice wavered, thick with regret. “I should’ve dug deeper. Should’ve asked more questions. But I didn’t. I let him be around her—I let him be around all of us—and I didn’t see it.” He exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “I should have known. I should have done more.”

Her chest tightened. She had no words, no reassurance that would make any of this easier. The what-ifs were stifling, an endless loop of blame and regret that neither of them could escape.

Carmelo let out a slow, unsteady breath. “I just wish I’d gotten to talk to her one last time,” he murmured. “Tell her how much I…” His voice broke, and he swallowed hard. “Just one more conversation, man. One more chance.”

Ivy squeezed his arm. “She knew, Melo. She knew.”

He gave a faint nod, but his hands clenched at his sides, as if holding onto something invisible, something slipping through his grasp.

After a beat, he exhaled and looked at her. “I’m happy you made it out,” he whispered. “I really am.”

Ivy blinked back fresh tears. “Thank you for taking care of Zaia,” she said. “She talks about you all the time, you know. Says you’re her hero.”

Something flickered in his expression—something softer, lighter, cutting through the thick haze of grief. His lips twitched, almost forming a smile, before it disappeared.

“Zaia’s a good kid,” he said, voice quieter now. “She’s been through enough. I just did what anyone would’ve.”

They stood in silence, side by side, staring down at the fresh mound of dirt that covered Gemini’s coffin. Neither of them moved. Neither of them spoke.

Because this—this was what devastation looked like.

Detective Rhodes stood outside the glass window of the hospital room, hands stuffed in his pockets, his frosty blue gaze locked onto the unconscious man inside.

Mateo Hobbs. Roman Reigns.

It didn’t matter what he called himself. He was nothing more than another psychotic criminal who had finally run out of places to run.

Two bullets. One from Ivy. One from him. And yet the bastard still lived.

He shouldn’t be surprised. Hobbs had slipped through his fingers too many times before, surviving when any other man would’ve been six feet under. But this time?

This time, there was no escape.

Behind him, the hesitant shuffle of footsteps drew his attention. Dr. Michael Cole, a wiry, nervous-looking man with thinning hair and thick glasses, cleared his throat. “Detective,” he greeted, voice just shy of a tremor.

“How long?” Cody didn’t bother with pleasantries. His cerulean orbs never left Hobbs’ prone form, watching his huge chest rise and fall steadily beneath the hospital sheets.

Cole wiped his hands on his coat. “A week. The bullets have been removed, but he needs time to recover before he can be transported.”

“A week?” Cody echoed, his jaw clenching. He wanted him gone now.

“It’s the best I can do,” Cole insisted, shifting uneasily under the weight of Cody’s chilling glare. “Moving him too soon could cause complications—”

“I don’t give a fuck about complications,” Rhodes cut him off coldly. His fingers curled into fists at his sides. “The second he’s stable, he’s out of here. You understand me?!”

Cole nodded hurriedly, clearly eager to be anywhere but in Cody’s presence.

Rhodes turned back to the window, his voice dropping to a low, venomous promise.

“You will never see the light of day again, Hobbs.”

A fortress of concrete and steel, Windham Federal Penitentiary sat deep in the wilderness in rural Montana, surrounded by endless miles of nothing. No roads. No civilization. Just mountains and forests stretching as far as the eye could see.

Maximum security.

No one had ever broken out. Many had tried. All had failed.

Guards patrolled the perimeter with semi-automatics. Watchtowers stood high, armed with snipers. The cells were reinforced, the walls impenetrable. A goddamn hellhole.

Exactly where Mateo Hobbs belonged.

But Rhodes made sure he wasn’t just another inmate. He had plans.

Sitting across from CO Strowman in a dimly lit break room, Cody laid it out. Strowman was a mountain of a man; six-foot-eight, built like a tank, with a shaved head, an unruly beard and a ghastly scar running down his cheek. A man whose presence alone made even the most dangerous inmate rethink their life choices.

Cody’s eyes locked on the grainy monitor displaying Roman…Mateo…sitting alone in his cell. Even injured, the bastard still carried that same quiet menace, his expression unreadable, his posture eerily composed.

“You watch him for me,” Cody said, his voice low, edged with something lethal. “I mean really watch him. Make his life a living hell. If he so much as breathes wrong, I wanna know.”

Strowman grunted, arms like tree trunks folding across his chest. “And if he steps outta line?”

Cody smirked. “Handle it.”

Strowman’s eyes gleamed with understanding.

Hobbs wasn’t getting out. And if Cody had his way…

He wouldn’t be getting out alive.

The drive across Hartford felt like a step toward something new—something better. Ivy’s grip on the steering wheel was firm as she navigated unfamiliar streets, her heart pounding in quiet anticipation. Moving again wasn’t ideal—twice in three years—but staying in that house, in that neighborhood, after everything that had happened? Impossible.

Was she running away? Again?

Or was it survival?

Maybe she was running. Maybe this was just another escape, another attempt to put distance between herself and the nightmare that had nearly swallowed her whole. But wasn’t that the point? To keep going, however slowly, however painfully, until the past loosened its grip? If this was running, then let it be. As long as it carried her toward something that had some fragile semblance of peace.

The house Angelo left her sat on a quiet street lined with towering trees, their bare branches dusted with the first hints of winter. It was beautiful. A two-story colonial with soft gray siding, black shutters, and a wide porch that wrapped around the front. The yard stretched out, perfect for a child to run through in the warmer months, and the crisp December air carried the scent of pine from the evergreens bordering the property.

It was a beautiful abode. Angelo had good taste.

As soon as Ivy parked, Zaia unbuckled herself and scrambled out of the car, her little sneakers crunching against the gravel driveway. “Mama, it’s so big!” she gasped, spinning in a circle. “We get to live here?”

Ivy stepped out, taking in the sight of it. “Yeah, baby,” she murmured, trying to push past the weight in her chest. “We do.”

Zaia grabbed her hand, practically bouncing on her toes. “Can we move in before my birthday?”

Ivy smiled, squeezing her fingers. “That’s the plan.”

It was good timing, really. A fresh start before Christmas. A new home, new memories—ones not tainted by fear and loss. Zaia would turn seven on Christmas Eve, and Ivy wanted her to wake up in a house that felt safe, filled with warmth instead of shadows.

To Zaia, this was all just an adventure. The idea of moving again didn’t phase her in the slightest. “I can decorate my room for Christmas, right?” she asked, eyes wide with excitement. “And can we get a big tree? Like, really big?”

Ivy laughed softly. “You can have the biggest tree we can fit.”

Zaia beamed. “And I can have a birthday party here?”

Ivy hesitated but nodded. “We’ll see what we can do.”

She wasn’t sure she had it in her to host a party, not after everything, but she wouldn’t take away Zaia’s excitement. Her daughter had been through enough.

Of course, not everyone was thrilled about the move.

“You’re taking my granddaughter even farther away from me?” Gloria, Angelo’s mother, snapped through the phone when Ivy finally broke the news.

Ivy let out a slow breath, already exhausted. “We’re moving, Gloria. That’s not up for discussion.”

“You expect me to drive all the way across town just to see her?”

“I expect you to figure it out if you actually want to see her.”

Gloria scoffed, muttering something under her breath. But Ivy hung up before she could utter another word. She didn’t care. She was done letting this woman dictate anything in her life. Gloria was not raising Zaia. She never had. And after everything Ivy had been through, she refused to let anyone—especially her ex’s bitter, spiteful mother—make her feel guilty for doing what was best for her daughter.

This was their life. And from now on, Ivy was going to live it on her terms.

For the first time in a long time, she allowed herself to believe that things could get better. That healing, no matter how long or winding the road, was possible.

Hope.

Maybe, just maybe, she still had some left.

In just a matter of weeks, Roman’s sprawling fortress across the street was reduced to rubble. Ivy stood by her window and watched as the demolition crew tore through it, their machines snarling as they ripped apart the walls that had once enclosed her in his deception. She had spent a lot more time than she wished to admit in that house, back when she had believed Roman was just a man, just her lover. They had cooked in that kitchen, their laughter filling the air between clinking wine glasses. They had curled up on that expensive leather couch, watching movies until she fell asleep against his chest. She had let him kiss her in that hallway, had given herself to him in that bedroom, tangled in silk sheets, never knowing that one day those same walls would close in on her, trapping her in the darkest nightmare of her life.

She thought its destruction would bring some kind of closure. Instead, she just felt hollow. The house was gone, but the memories remained, clawing at her, sinking their teeth into every quiet moment she tried to reclaim.

Therapy helped. Or at least, that’s what she told herself. Once a week, she sat across from Dr. Ari, picking at the edges of her pain, unraveling it thread by thread. But the nightmares didn’t care about therapy. They came regardless, slipping into her mind like a cruel whisper in the dark. She’d wake up gasping, her skin slick with sweat, the phantom weight of Roman’s body pressing her into the mattress, his voice dripping in her ears like poison.

Then, those “thoughts” began creeping in, without warning, without pity. One moment, she would be doing something mundane, like folding Zaia’s tiny clothes, the scent of lavender detergent clinging to the fabric. The next, the darkness would slither in, whispering insidiously:

You’re broken beyond repair. You’ll never get better. He took too much from you.

Ivy clenched her jaw, shaking her head as if that alone could banish the thoughts. But they didn’t need an invitation. They curled around her mind, wrapping tight like thorns, their voices gentle, persuasive.

You won’t have to wake up screaming anymore. You won’t have to see his face every time you close your eyes. You’ll finally be at peace.

Just do it.

End it all.

She had told Dr. Ari about those morbid thoughts; about the nights she lay awake, staring at the ceiling, the weight of exhaustion pressing her into the mattress, but sleep refusing to take her. About the moments when the idea of stepping further into the abyss felt less like surrender and more like relief.

Ari had nodded, unsurprised, unshaken. “These thoughts don’t mean you want to die, Ivy,” she had said softly, her gaze steady. “They mean you’re in pain. And pain needs to be acknowledged before it can heal.”

So she worked through it, piece by jagged piece. She wrote in a journal, even when the words felt too raw, too exposed. She let the music wash over her, heavy and loud, until the static in her mind quieted. She read the book Ari had given her, a guide for survivors, though some nights, she could only get through a paragraph before the words blurred.

And when the darkness became too much, when the past threatened to drag her under, she reminded herself why she kept fighting.

For Zaia. For the little girl who still looked at her like she was the safest place in the world.

For herself.

So she strapped up her boots, gritted her teeth, and moved forward. Even when it hurt. Even when it felt impossible.

She threw herself into packing up the house. It was something to do, something to keep her from drowning. Most people weren’t allowed past the front door anymore. The thought of letting anyone too close, of giving someone the chance to betray her trust again, made her chest tighten. The only exception was Carmelo. He came by often, checking in on Zaia, playing with her, making sure Ivy was eating, sleeping. Becky too, with her loud, unrelenting energy, forcing Ivy to exist in the world even when she didn’t want to.

Tonight, Ivy sat cross-legged on the living room floor, folding a pile of Zaia’s clothes into a suitcase. A few feet away, Zaia played with Duchess, the puppy’s tiny tail wagging as she chased a stuffed toy. Ivy allowed herself a small smile at the sight; at the simple, innocent joy of a child and her dog.

Then the news anchor’s voice cut through the background noise, sharp as a blade.

“Tonight, an in-depth look at the man who terrorized a quiet suburban neighborhood…”

Ivy’s heart lurched as his face filled the screen. Roman’s face. The familiar angles of his bearded jaw, the piercing eyes she had once loved.

Her breath hitched. Her vision blurred at the edges. The room tilted.

No. No, no, no.

She fumbled for the remote with trembling hands, her lungs tightening as if iron bands had cinched around her ribs. The words on the screen swam together; serial killer, rapist, sociopath; but all she could hear was his voice; feel his hands, his weight, his breath.

Her chest seized, air slipping from her grasp. Hyperventilating. She needed to breathe. She needed—

“You got it, Duchess, good girl!”

Zaia’s small voice cut through the haze of terror.

Ivy’s fingers finally found the power button. The TV snapped off, plunging the room into silence, save for the sound of Duchess’ soft panting and her own ragged breaths. She pressed a hand to her chest, grounding herself, forcing her lungs to expand.

She was safe. Roman was gone.

But the ghosts he left behind still refused to let her go.

The house buzzed with movement. The steady rip of packing tape. The shuffle of footsteps against hardwood. The low murmur of conversation between the movers as they carried out furniture. Ivy kneeled beside Zaia, supervising her as she carefully placed her toys into her toy box. Across the room, Carmelo grunted as he helped one of the movers lift the couch.

“Man, you got it?” he asked, adjusting his grip.

The mover huffed out a breath. “Yeah, yeah. Just a little heavier than I expected.”

Carmelo smirked. “You should hit the gym more.”

Becky laughed beside Ivy, shaking her head as she taped up a half-filled moving box. “Lyra’s gonna miss this one,” she said, pointing at Zaia. “She’s been talking about Zaia nonstop.”

Ivy smiled, warmth creeping into her chest. “We’ll visit. I promise.”

Zaia grinned, cradling her favorite plush bear. “I wanna see Lyra on my birthday!”

“Of course, baby,” Ivy murmured, reaching over to playfully tug her braid.

There was a knock at the door. More neighbors, coming to say goodbye. She had already cried too much today. Every hug, every well-wish, every we’ll miss you had threatened to break her all over again. She wasn’t sure she had any more tears left to give.

As she stood, Carmelo called out from across the room, rummaging through a half-packed box. “Yo, Ivy, you seen my sunglasses? I swear I left ‘em on the counter.”

Ivy sighed, brushing a stray loc from her face. “You mean the ones you lose every time you take them off?”

Carmelo scoffed. “Man, just tell me if you’ve seen ‘em!”

She smirked, shaking her head as she made her way toward the foyer. “Maybe check the top of your big ass head—”

She pulled the door open.

Her blood ran cold.

At the other end of her door, inexplicably, was Roman.

The side of his face was slick with blood, a deep gash splitting his temple. His shirt hung open, torn and stained, a bullet hole gaping through the fabric where she had shot him. But it was what he held in his left hand that sent the air wheezing from her lungs.

Angelo’s severed head. Gemini’s severed head. Their lifeless faces frozen in a final, gruesome scream.

Her knees locked, her breath catching in her throat.

Roman smiled, the evil glint in his eyes sending ice through her veins.

“Hey, baby girl.”

In his other hand, he lifted a gun. His gun.

The one she shot him with.

Pointing it right at her.

“No!”

BANG!

Ivy shot upright, a strangled gasp of terror ripping through her chest. The world spun around her. Her stomach twisted, bile rising fast and hot. She barely had time to throw off the covers before she was bolting to the bathroom, dropping to her knees in front of the toilet.

Her body lurched forward, her stomach twisting as she vomited. Her entire frame trembled, sweat clinging to her skin in a cold sheen, the contents of her stomach emptying in a grimy cascade.

Gasping for breath, she pushed herself upright, slow and unsteady, gripping the edges of the sink for support. She turned the faucet on, cupping cool water in her hands before rinsing her mouth, spitting out the lingering taste of bile. The cold water soothed the rawness in her throat, but it did nothing to calm the storm inside her.

The dream. The same damn dream. Over and over. It refused to let her go.

Why wouldn’t it let her go?

With a shaky breath, she turned and sank onto the closed toilet seat, pressing her palms over her face. Her pulse thundered in her ears. No matter how many times she woke up, no matter how many deep breaths she took, the fear never left. It was with a vice-like grip that simply refused to loosen.

“Mama?”

Jumping slightly, she wiped her mouth quickly, looking up to see Zaia standing in the doorway, rubbing her eyes. Without a word, she stretched out her arms, allowing her daughter to walk into her embrace. She tugged her into her lap, pressed her lips to the crown of her head and smoothed a trembling hand over her little bonnet.

Zaia hesitated, then nestled closer, her small fingers gripping Ivy’s nightgown tightly. “I have bad dreams too,” she murmured, barely above a whisper.

Ivy’s heart clenched. She shut her eyes for a moment, resting her head against her daughter’s. Just a child. She should’ve never had to know this kind of fear.

A lengthy moment of silence drifted between them before Zaia sighed. “I’m gonna miss my friends when we move,” she said, her voice small and wistful.

Ivy stroked her daughter’s braided hair, grateful for the change in subject. “I know, baby. But we’ll make new memories. We’ll celebrate Christmas in our new home. It’s gonna be fun,” she promised.

Zaia yawned, her grip tightening around Ivy’s waist. “Okay.”

Ivy held her baby close as she carried her back to the bedroom, grounding herself in her warmth. The nightmare still lingered in the back of her mind, but here, in this moment, she wasn’t drowning in it.

She was still here. Still fighting. And maybe…just maybe…things would get better.

Somehow.

Three Months Later

Windham Penitentiary had descended into absolute bedlam.

Smoke coiled through the air, thick and acrid, stinging the eyes and burning the lungs of anyone still breathing. The relentless screech of alarms blended with the chaotic roar of hundreds of men, their voices rising in a primal symphony of rage and freedom. Inmates swarmed every hallway, their movements frantic and violent, like a hive disturbed. Some were smashing light fixtures, the bulbs bursting in showers of glass, plunging sections of the prison into flickering darkness. Others ripped mattresses apart, their stuffing floating like snowfall in the destruction.

Blood gushed over the concrete floors, fresh boot prints trailing in every direction. The guards who had been unlucky enough to be caught in the initial frenzy now lay crumpled, unconscious, or worse, their bodies discarded against walls like broken furniture. Those still standing were fighting desperately, swinging batons, deploying tear gas, yelling orders that fell on deaf ears.

Somewhere in the chaos, a cluster of correctional officers sprinted toward a specific cell, their faces tight with dread. Their radios crackled with desperate voices, but no reinforcements were coming. Not tonight.

They skidded to a stop in front of the open cell.

Their worst fear materialized before their eyes.

Strowman lay on the floor, his huge neck twisted unnaturally, a deep crimson pool expanding beneath his throat. His keys, slick with blood, glinted in his rigid fingers. His expression was frozen in something caught between shock and agony, his eyes still open, staring vacantly at the ceiling. There was no one else inside the cell.

Mateo Hobbs was gone.

A cold, crippling silence settled over the officers even as the riot raged on around them. The hairs on their arms rose as the weight of realization crashed down upon them like a massive boulder. This wasn’t just an escape.

The ghost had slipped through another pair of fingers.

Hundreds of miles away, Detective Cody Rhodes was wrecking his office.

“Fuck!”

He slammed his fists onto his desk so hard that the entire surface rattled, a stack of files toppling over the edge. His growls came in short, ragged bursts, his chest heaving with the sheer force of his rage. His eyes squeezed shut for half a second, then out came a guttural roar that burst from somewhere deep within his gut.

How? How had this motherfucker gotten away again?

He ran a shaking hand through his blond hair before gripping the edge of his desk and flipping it over with another roar, sending everything crashing to the floor. Papers, pens, his goddamn badge. None of it mattered.

Strowman was dead.

Hobbs was gone.

Again!

And he had nothing. Again!

With a furious snarl, he grabbed the nearest chair and launched it across the room. It crashed against the wall, splintering on impact, but the destruction did nothing to cool the fire burning through him. His vision blurred red, his thoughts a relentless cycle of curses and failures.

That bastard was out there.

Again!

And yet again, Cody had no fucking idea where.

The night stretched on, endless and black, swallowing the empty highway in both directions. The road was cracked and worn, long forgotten by civilization. There were no streetlights. No signs of life. Just the sound of wind scraping across the desolate land.

A lone, hulking figure moved through the darkness, blending with it as one, trudging along the side of the road.

Roman walked with an easy stride, his hood pulled low over his face, casting shadows where a beard once covered his jaw. Clean-shaven now, his features were different, altered just enough to make a second glance have doubts.

In one hand, he held a photograph. A woman with a little girl.

His thumb dragged over Ivy’s face, slow, thoughtful, lust-filled. Then Zaia’s. Fatherly, nurturing, comforting.

The low hum of an approaching vehicle broke the stillness. Headlights cut through the night, growing brighter, nearing fast.

Roman turned purposefully toward them, lifting his arm, extending his thumb. His grip tightened on the photograph.

His smirk remained.

She couldn’t breathe.

The bathroom felt smaller, much smaller. The walls were pressing in, trapping her in the harsh, artificial light. Her body trembled, still raw from retching, but the nausea wasn’t fading. Hadn’t faded for weeks, for one single horrifying reason. It wasn’t the nightmares. It wasn’t the stress.

It was something much more devastating.

Her fingers curled around the plastic white stick in her lap, the small screen glaring up at her. A single word. A simple, undeniable truth.

Her stomach lurched, and she barely managed to swallow down another wave of sickness. Her other hand clutched at the counter as she forced herself to look again, to see the second test beside it. The same positive result.

Oh god.

A strangled whimper broke from her throat as she stumbled backward, pressing herself against the cold tile as if she could shrink away from the reality in front of her. Her chest heaved, her pulse a frantic, erratic, unnatural rhythm in her ears.

This couldn’t be happening.

I will always be a part of you.

His words echoed in her skull, that dark, possessive whisper that had haunted her even in freedom. She had spent months trying to erase him, trying to cleanse herself of his touch, his presence.

Her hands shook violently as she clutched at her stomach, fingers digging into the fabric of her shirt. She wanted to reach into herself and tear it out, wanted to claw him out of her, wanted to make this not real.

But it was real.

Her red-rimmed vision blurred as the first sob broke free, then another, until she was on her knees, gasping, unraveling, drowning in a fresh, endless nightmare.

She had fought so hard to escape him. So, so hard.

But now, he was inside her.

Literally.

Still here. Still owning her. Still tethered to her like a parasite.

A parasite he’d put in her.

You ain’t never gon’ be free of me. You belong to me forever, baby girl.

He was right.

She was never going to be free.

THE END.

A/N: Let me start off by shouting out and sincerely thanking my partner in crime, @harmshake, for her genius. All the brainstorming on Google Docs and the email back and forths paid off. This would have NEVER happened without her, she kickstarted this and is this reason this story has been so epic. Love you, dear!

Another massive thank you to everyone who has read and commented and supplied so many theories and guesses. I loved reading and responding to every one of them and I appreciate you all!

This is also to confirm that this universe ends here. A Part 2 will be damn near impossible for me, as writing this was so emotionally and sometimes physically draining. Again, it's a psychological (erotic) thriller, and cliffhangers are a staple that I'm happily taking advantage of.

On the bright side, there will be a reimagining of the characters from this universe in another universe, coming soon.

Would love to know your thoughts on this final chapter!

Dr. Ari is played by @trippinsorrows

🏷️: @harmshake @cyberdejos2 @thesamoanqueen @vebner37 @thewarlordsworld @trippinsorrows @herwickedlittlesins @jxtina-86 @wrestlingprincess80

@dreamsinfocus @fame-ass-ers @southerngirl41 @jeyusos-girl @romansthrone @wwecrazed2010 @sayyestoheav3nn @trentybenty

@purplehairgawdess @mohawkmama @po3ticb3auty @alyyaanna @murrylove @tribalhoochie @xbriexx @rollinssection @lovestoreadfiction

@papireigns-05 @vintage-pvssy @bebesobrielo @urasunflower @unfriendly–blvck–hottie @romanreignsbae

@theninthwonder @tabletheofhead @venusesworld @ariieeesworld @sassginaswanmills @prettyfilmz

@theglamclosetsl @empressdede @woahdude9481 @browngalmal @crxssjae @octaviastargirl @ashykneee

@twocentuar @surdelcielo @althegreat33 @alichesmi @eclectic-tee

@joannasteez @whatdoeseverybodywant @puppetmastermya @caramelcleopatraa @femdisa @zillasvilla @katrinnnn @callmekayd @msbluehaz3

@megamindsecretlair @headoftheetable @brwnsugababe @heauxvibez @christinabae @potatosackk @usoholic @4milly @luvrsluxe @juicypinksblog

@raya-hunter01 @lilucey @aisharmi @neverlookatthisblog @dayaimonee @nayys-world @kianaleani @shes2real @disc0fairy @paigereeder

@fearlesschimera @tshepisho @partypoison00 @originalgeezyy @muzaqueendom @naturally-nikkilynn

#give these two their flowers now!!!!#we just got a whole ass novel worthy read for free!#ya'll should have put this on patreon or something #free content this good should be illegal

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flovverworks · 10 months ago

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gah thinking about postmhyk akira feeling lonely for a while about living alone, and being less bothered by busy places cuz its more remniscient of the chaos their daily life was w the wizards (guy who str8up went 'its amazing what u can get used to' about suddenly hearing a crash cuz the northern wizards fighting e/o💀). something about sharing ur life with others through living spaces & love

#stardust speaking !#need to make up my mind on these things too cuz in my head akiras move's workrelated #and while they do get involved with communities (one of their first mentions is how they tend to help this lady with her cats LOL)#its. hrm. different #something about Wanting to share your daily life with someone too. and something about someone telling u they Want to be around u #it comes back to love #those topics weigh heavier when its gran (just a lil sideeffect from being left behind & developing a habit of doing everything urself cuz #theres no parent telling u to Stop that)#so gran feels more strongly about those sentiments & gets more conscious about it #(which is why i always get so 🥺🥺 when any of the crew has lines about wanting to stay around)#my brain is starting to share every thought between akira & gran again its been a while #(talks about the most basic thing) its about love #but i also i do feel akiras a lot less about the grand things & more of a focus on the more common stuff #mhyk has such a focus on characters feelings after all............

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orcelito · 2 years ago

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Another morning another day

I've been thinking a lot about going to the animal shelter

#speculation nation #there r many cats there and i have an aching spot available for one #passively thinking about getting a kitten. just bc id enjoy getting to raise a cat for once #and i think tally would be a good big sister given how much she groomed cassy #at the same time tho i wanna adopt a cat that might not otherwise be adopted so quickly. aka an adult cat #& also like with tally. i very purposefully picked out the loud black cat bc everyone was passing her up #but she was YELLINGGG at me from the cage. and i was like 'oh alright' and took her home #and now shes my sweet darling girl. she just needed like a year to chill out so she is no longer a chaos demon lmao #it's also hard to know what youre getting with a kitten. and it's a lot of resposibility. so like. idk.#but also. Kitten Cute... 🥺#i'll have to see what they have when i go there. still not happening for at least a few more days.#it feels too soon rn. but im thinking about this all to cope lol. i hate having only one cat.#i keep wanting to go out to greet Cat Number 2 in the living room. but. nope. so i go back to greet tally on my bed #she's a loving cat but she does Not like to be smothered. and im kind of smothering her lmao #that's another reason to get a 2nd cat. yes i want tally to have company when im gone at work #but also i need a second cat that is very affectionate bc I Want My Hugs And Kisses Dammit #idk when im getting his ashes back. probably somewhat soon. id estimate tomorrow? they were rly quick with sammy's #idk what im gonna do if they call while im at work lol. cry probably.#tho i havent cried in almost a full day!! been like 22 hours. i have been Trying to cope. mixed results.#ah well. c'est la vie and all that shit.#animal death ment/

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allofuswantgwinam · 1 year ago

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I actually had the worst day I’ve had in awhile now but i survived it

#barely #im learning to lean on the people that care about me #i even cried on my mom tonight and i hate crying in front of people 😭😭#and it’s always been hard for me in general to talk to my mom especially but I’m learning to trust her and grow from our past #all that cheese and mushy shiz yeah yeah #work was insane tn and i was not prepared at all #i almost had a meltdown too but i kept it together and that’s when I called my co worker and she saved my ass #and my other coworker was trying to help me too that was off and was literally gonna leave her house to help me 🥺🥺🥺#it was just so bad fr #and my hours switching has been a twist for me too which happened to be a factor of today #but I made shit work but it still also was a mess at the same time lmao #it was a crazy ass day and I’m just glad it’s over now #a lot of good things happened today but the bad was bad #im just glad I didn’t hold in my feelings and was also not too prideful to ask for help #im drinkin my wine and hittin my pen bc fuck the cold I’ll just be a vape god for now #that was kinda cringe but I’m drunk so don’t take me seriously besides the parts of this that are my feelings 🤣#also got a card from one of my coworkers and my boss with a Starbucks gift card 🫶🏼 I was so surprised #that mfer wrote ‘crazy lady’ on the envelope 🙃🙃🤣🤣#funniest guy I know right there lmao #we have too much fun and he only works like once a week bc he’s like 40 or 50 something with a million different jobs bc he’s the crazy one #today was a roller coaster basically 🤣🤣 but i did the shit and somehow managed to keep shit together #im just ready for the holidays to be over so work can not be super busy anymore #but i am excited for the holidays it’s gonna be amazing i think 🫶🏼 not gonna be hung up on fake love this time and will be able to enjoy it #fully #for the first time in too long #last Christmas was so bad it makes me sick thinking about it #fuck that guy so much #just realizing this was amazing wow #so hype to have a clear and free mind this holiday without our ‘relationship’ looming over me #proud of me for multiple things rn 🥹

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ednaeflowers · 11 months ago

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edna's love language is quality time. she's spent 1000+ years by herself on r.ayfalke waiting for e.izen to come home—she will never, ever admit to it, but she's definitely felt lonely before through those 1000+ years, so quality time would definitely help bring her closer to someone. she will still, of course, tease whoever she is with: because of how she's like, the more she teases you, the more fond of you she is. she isn't the type who talks about how she actually feels, especially if it's sentimental or personal, so it's very subtle in how much she enjoys someone's company. she opens up slowly, but once you gain her trust, she trusts you.

it reassures her to know that she still has people around her. it'll make her feel more comfortable knowing that there is still at least another person she can be around since she literally lost the only person she could truly rely on—so, it makes sense that she doesn't want to lose more people. she is very "loud" about how she teases people, but very "quiet" in how she shows what's actually on her mind. to know what she is feeling, it's all in her actions.

#''love language'' seems a bit misleading but i rlly think it kinda sums it up tbh #i feel like i will never be able to ship here so this isn't exactly a ''shippy'' hc lol #tho i think it can apply to any of her relationships tbh #i think this could also affect how much she trusts someone too #and over time the zesty crew BECOME trusted friends to her ( tho it's canon that she and l.ailah are already friends when zesty begins )#i just want to know what's on her mind ! she is like a cat i must study in order for her to like me #since there is much more to her character than just being the source of comedy which a lot of ppl tend to gloss over #altho i will acknowledge there are times she's just being a bully to be a bully 💀#still love her very much tho -- i just love her on an abnormal amount 💛💛🥺#i was talking to rinni earlier about edna and successfully converting her to support best earth siblings #and then my brain just started to work more gears i guess LOL ...#anyway i wrote this up while thinking about k.ratos and edna THANKS RINNI 😩 didn't know how much i needed them until today 😩#... i think too much about edna so i will stop talking here and go to bed ...... 🙈🙈🙈#°˖✧❀ ❛ memories. ┊ headcanons. ❀✧˖°#°˖✧❀ ❛ out of offerings. ┊ ooc. ❀✧˖°

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musical-chick-13 · 1 year ago

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Me: What a nice day, I'm going to be calm and normal for a few hours.

My brain: hey. :) do you. remember. :) The Ship :) :) :)

#this post brought to you by a gifset of the fucking wrist-healing kiss from tatm #DON'T /TALK/ TO ME #I HAVE TOO MANY /FEELINGS/ ABOUT HOW SHE COVERS SHIT UP AND NEVER WANTS TO ASK FOR OR ACCEPT HELP BECAUSE IT MEANS SHE'S IMPERFECT #AND HOW SHE INTERNALIZES THAT SO HARD SHE CONVINCES HERSELF THE PERSON WHO MARRIED HER & TAKES HER ON DATES DOESN'T ACTUALLY CARE ABOUT HER #BECAUSE THEIR RELATIONSHIP ISN'T STRAIGHTFORWARD AND HE'S GOT A LOT OF PROBLEMS. SO IT'S VERY EASY TO TAKE VARIOUS MOMENTS & INTERPRET THEM #THROUGH THE LENS OF 'THIS PERSON DOESN'T ACTUALLY MEAN IT. THEY CARE ABOUT ME IN THE SAME GENERAL SUPERFICIAL WAY THEY CARE ABOUT EVERYONE.#WHY TF WOULD I EVER BE SPECIAL TO THEM'#I WANT!! TO TEAR DOWN!!! MY KITCHEN WALLS!!!!!!!!!#(also him healing her wrist and kissing her hand for no reason was just. very sweet. and very tender. and I lost my mind when I watched #it the first time. like yes the context that led to it is really fucked up. but the actual moment itself...🥺🥺🥺)#(don't talk to me about the berlin episode either I will NEVER shut up about their dynamic in that one if you get me started)#*banging pots and pans* HI DID YOU GUYS KNOW THAT THEY'RE IN LOVE. DID YOU KNOOOOOWW

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justiisms · 11 months ago

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*when P wakes up he'll feel the tiniest bit of weight on his chest? and if he were to open his eyes he'll see that eve is sitting on top of him with one of her favorite toys right in front of her?! she gives a quiet mrr as she nudges it closer to him, however it's then that tum's sigh can be heard just outside the room, the man grabbing an excited snow just before she can set one paw inside! he blinks when he looks up and sees what's going on, going back to his mission when duchess decides she wants to go inside too, tum scooping her up before she can get past the threshold as she gives a startled brr~!*

"I'm sorry if I accidentally woke you up. I've had my hands full since it seems that the cats have been a little too eager to greet you this morning." *he then sticks his leg out as lilly also decides she wants in, easily stopping the tiny puppy even as she tries her hardest to get past him!*

"Ah... It seems even Eve wished to give you something today. I think she is giving you permission to borrow her toy. How thoughtful. I'll let you get up at your leisure since it's your birthday, but please be aware that I'm in the middle of preparing brunch. Everything should be done in a few minutes, but don't let that rush you. I'll make sure your food remains warm and fresh, so take your time coming downstairs."

His birthday has arrived... Knowing his family will make it a wonderful one for him, P excitedly looks forward to it~ Though as his eyes slowly come to an open...he feels some, albeit very light, weight on his chest... "Mm...?" With a light yawn, he peers down to see what it is, and gives a gasp of delighted surprise when seeing that it's Eve!! "Oh, Eve! Good morning; hehe, did you want to be the first one to greet me?" He chuckles, giving her head soft scritches~ Then seeing her nudge her favorite toy towards him, his smile wides even more!! "Ah? You will let me play with it? You're so sweet..."

Then when he hears that sigh, he turns towards his door, seeing that it's Tum! Seeing him stop the other kitties from trying to zoom in, can't help but make him chuckle as he finally sits up while placing Eve and her toy on his lap~ "Good morning, Tum: oh no worries, you didn't disrupt me at all. Hehe, I can see; but I very happily welcome it. I'm just as happy to see them all, too! I see Lilly wishes to do the same, too." As shown by the tiny puppy trying her best to get in, chuckling~!

"Ahhh...so she really is allowing me to borrow her toy. To give me such special permission...she truly is a sweetheart. Thank you, Eve....I promise to be very careful with your toy." He hugs the tiny kitty even closer against his chest while playing with the toy with her~ Then as Tum continues, he nods. "Ah, okay. I'll be looking forward to it! I just know it will taste great... and no problem, I'll take my time. I'll head down once I'm ready...oh, and thank you for being willing to keep it hot for me, and for cooking in general, too. My morning is already off to a great start..."

Holding Eve in his arm, he stands up, so that he can give Tum a gentle side hug~ "I know you said don't rush, but I will still be down, soon. Ah, and it's okay to let the other pets inside: I must greet them with hugs and nuzzles, too!"

#greeted by the floofiest littol Eve!!!#a lovely surprise for him to wake up too tee hee~!#and her letting him borrow her favorite toy!!! that's so sweettt!!! 🥺🥺🥺#he'll be extra extra careful with it!!!#FJDNJDFJ AND THE OTHER PETS TRYNA FLY IN PLS!!! LET THEM INNNNN!!!!#ALSO he's super appreciative to Tum for making brunch!!!#he's gonna enjoy it lots!#Tum and the pets already making his day so nice and it just started~!#BUT AHHH THANK YOU FOR SENDING SO MANY WONDERFUL AND CUTE ASKS TIME!!!#I LOVE THEM ALL SO MUCH!!! EVERYONE MADE P FEEL SO LOVED AND HAPPY~! *BIG HUG!!!* 💖🌟✨#HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO OUR COFFEE ENJOYER~!#P answers;;#essenceofjustice

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smolbeandrabbles · 1 year ago

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Me, reading this fic:

I ran out of tags! 🥲 It’s been so fun to read your work! 🥰 Especially of the certified Best Boy™️

I can’t wait to read more 💚

Dance with me? (Roronoa Zoro x f!reader)

Summary: you try to convince Zoro to dance to a slow song with you.

A/n: okay so i love dancing. And i love Zoro. So i thought: why not have Zoro dancing?! And then this idea came out 🤣 it's kinda short, just cause i wanted to write down this scenario ajskajakja i hope you like it though 🩷 this was slightly inspired by Selena Gomez's Body Heat. This song isn't as slow as the song i imagine them dancing to in the fic but the lyrics fit sooo well 🤭 also let's pretend there's a band playing at the Baratie lmaooo

Warnings: drinking, swearing, maybe ooc Zoro (i just had to get this man dancing yk ajskajksja)

"We're connected by the sun

And all of the stars above

You melt me and my body feels no shame

And I don't care tonight

If it burns too bright

'Cause, baby, that's why I came"

You were at the Baratie celebrating after very a successful mission!

Luffy and Usopp were inside eating as much as they could (like always lol) and you were outside watching the band play and the people dance.

Sitting with you and sharing drinks, there were your best friend Nami and your crush Roronoa Zoro.

Yep, you were crushing on the moss haired swordsman ever since you joined the straw hats.

You thought about confessing to him several times, but you were really afraid of being rejected and making things awkward at the Going Merry. No, you couldn't risk that, not when you loved your crew that much.

What you didn't know is that the pretty swordsman felt exactly the same, even though he tried to fight that feeling everytime you flashed your beautiful smile at him.

yeah two idiots secretly in love with each other oh well ajskajskaj

The three of you were just relaxing and drinking when the band started playing one of your favorite songs. It was a slow and romantic song that touched deep into your heart.

- oh my gosh, i love this song - you closed your eyes and started swaying to the beat. It felt wonderful.

You weren't sure if it was the alcohol making you brave or if you just couldn't stand hiding your feelings anymore, but you turned to face Zoro and you were so certain of what you were saying even he was a bit surprised.

- come on, dance with me - you said, very sure of your words.

- what? No. I don't do "dancing", (Y/N). - Zoro replied, crossing his arms and looking away, knowing very well that if he kept looking at your beautiful eyes he was going to give in at some point.

- please, it's just one song... i can lead you - you said almost pleading.

You approached him and put your small hand on his strong arm (yep, the alcohol definitely was making you brave). That's when he couldn't resist anymore and turned to look at you.

- please, Zoro... for me?

The way you said that and tilted your head slightly to the side made Zoro feel something deep inside of him he never had felt before. How could he say no to you?

He rolled his eyes:

- okay, okay... but just one song. Make it quick.

You were so happy you nearly jumped out of your seat.

- yay!! It'll be short, i promise. Let's go! - you said clapping and happily standing up.

He got up too and you grabbed his hand to lead him to the dance area. Yes, you just grabbed the Roronoa Zoro's hand and pulled him with you. Maybe it weren't the drinks, maybe you were just really determined to be with him ajskajskaj

When you got there, you started giving him the directions.

- okay, you have to put your hands here - you grabbed both his hands and placed them on your waist. The touch was so soft and intimate it made your whole skin tingle - and i go here - you placed your arms around his neck.

You could feel he was still a bit suspicious about the whole thing for how tense his muscles felt, but you decided you were going to make that a good time for both of you.

- hey, you're tense - you said softly - just... relax, okay? I know it may seem scary but dancing is supposed to be fun. You don't have to be a pro to enjoy it, just... feel it. It's just you and I having a good time together. No pressure at all.

Little did you know Zoro wasn't feeling nervous because of the dancing. Well, maybe a bit (he had never done that before ajskajskaj), but it wasn't the main reason.

He was nervous for being that close to you. God knows what he could do being so close to the girl he had been crushing on for so long.

You ran your hands through his shoulders and arms, trying to calm him down and feeling his strong muscles slowly relaxing under your touch.

- now you just focus on the beat and move along. When i move right, you move right. When i go back, you go forward. Just... feel it and enjoy - you said kindly and you started moving with the song.

You both moved smoothly through the dance floor and it felt amazing.

- see, it's not that hard. I'm sure you've faced bigger challenges than this one, pirate hunter - you emphasized these two words in a mocking way.

That made him chuckle and look down, feeling a bit shy.

Yes! You made him laugh 🤩 you loved knowing you were the one to create such cute sight.

On the other hand: fuck, you made him laugh 💀 everytime he smiled it made you weak on your knees and you couldn't even think straight.

That's when you closed your eyes and rested your head on his chest, while you both just moved along to the beat. It was such a blissful moment, dancing to a song you loved and sharing it with a person you loved too.

Being there with him, enjoying the beat, feeling safe in Zoro's arms... you felt like you could live in that moment forever.

When you lifted your head and looked into his eyes again, it was like the rest of the world disappeared. There was just the two of you, holding each other and sharing loving looks.

You were so close and you could feel his eyes staring at your lips. You took that as a sign.

You cupped his cheek and slowly went in for a kiss.

Was that really happening?! You wanted to pinch yourself to check if all of that wasn't actually another delulu dream of yours.

But it was real. You could feel it.

The kiss was soft and sweet, but also full of emotion.

When you parted you were blushing madly so you just hid your face on his chest again and went back to dancing. This time you could feel he laid his head on top of yours too and that made your heart so warm. And that's because you didn't know he was enjoying it so much he had his eyes closed too, or else you would have exploded.

You knew at some point later you and Zoro would have to discuss feelings and stuff, but at that moment all that mattered was enjoying now.

You stayed like that for another few seconds until the song ended and everyone started clapping at the band. You and Zoro parted and smiled at each other. crap there was that pretty smile again

- see, you nailed it! - you said playfully punching him - thank you for coming with me, it was so nice. And i kept my promise, short and quick - you chuckled.

- yeah... now i kinda wish it lasted longer though - he said trying to look away to hide the small blush that was on his cheeks. Now besides smiling!Zoro, you also had him blushing?! It was definitely a dream.

You hooked your arm in his and led him out the dance area.

When you were going back to your seats, you saw Nami staring at you with a smug face. Damn, was she watching the whole thing?! Prepare for teasing in 3, 2...

- what a show, huh? - Nami said smirking and raising her eyebrows.

- shut up, Nami - Zoro said nonchalantly as he sat down and crossed his arms again, with that "100% done" face of his to try to hide the faint blush that was still on his cheeks.

You just chuckled and sat down for another drink, still feeling the bliss of that amazing moment you had just lived.

And you know what, the night was just beginning. Who knows what else could happen 😉

"Let's go all night

Just you and me

If you're the flame, I'm kerosene"

#I am obsessed with how you add those little authors asides! that’s so great! 🙏🤣#also you KNOW I love a good lyric so I went immediately to the song! 👀🙏#and now I’m like 👀 OH 👀 PLEASE 👀#So is it this they’re dancing too because I first was like /slow dance?/ and now I’m like /holllld up!/ 👀#also can I just - the bar is such a great touch anyway - so you KNOW it’s the perfect setting for this 👀👀👀#I understand the fear though - can you imagine confessing and then having to spend alllll your time on the ship with him after?#just throw me into the sea! 🙅‍♀️#(note me rereading it is a slow dance but also now I’m thinking about them dancing to Body Heat so here we are! 😏)#well I’m glad some Dutch courage helped with the issue of neither of them wanting to confess to each other 👀#Zoro out here trying to convince *himself* that this isn’t something he wants… just dance man!#breaking straight away like the softie he is internally 👀 I see you Zoro I see you! she cute go get her!!#/please Zoro… for me?/ (someone got their tactics from Luffy!)#I love that he’s just kinda tense and nervous and not absolutely protesting this 🥹 just a good boy (but a nervous one!!!)#but her softly trying to help him through what she thought he was nervous about? 🥺 the cutest! so sweet! 🥺#the idea of giving Zoro directions and him getting them correct? funny! but also yeah what an excuse to hold him to make sure he DOES! 😏#I read her saying /Pirate Hunter/ the way he does it in episode one 😆 I LOVE the idea of her playing it back to him like that! 🙌#girl is about to pass out when he laughs? Same girl same 😳#I’m OBSESSED with her placing her head on his chest and he just… accepts it. AGH! the GOODEST boy! please 😭🙏#ASDFGHJKL-! you two did not just kiss and then go right back to dancing like you—— AGHhH!!#oh I am SO SOFT! his head resting on hers? 😭 I want that for meeeee-!#I just love how chilled this situation is… they’re just letting it be without a big feelings conversation? 🙏#it’s a moment that doesn’t need the words - those *are* for later!#I also love that afterward SHE takes it back to their original conversation about dancing and thanks him for dancing with her 😭#AND compliments him! like there’s no awkward it’s a really great little /we don’t have to talk about the heavy stuff we can just keep this..#…fun for now!/ and it’s PERFECT 🙏#then he’s like /actually I wanted to continue/ please - boy stop! my heart can only take so much from you!/#Nami: 🎶 I can see what’s happening 🎶#lmao him just telling her to shut up! on brand! 🤣 but also we see you blushing Zoro! we see you!!#actually I think she’d be the best and WORST wing woman ever - that girl is gonna tease them massively but also ship it a little… a lot!#If the night is so young Zoro you can totally go dance again! 😏

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starmocha · 22 days ago

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I've got this doubt that I can't shake off: if MC's pregnancy, for some reason, is a very tough and risky one (both might die or something), which one of the guys would have the saddest breakdown at some point (just ugly crying into MC's arms after months of keeping it together for her sake) and which would have the angriest (trashing entire offices, taking their anger out on their enemies or both)?

(I had intended to respond earlier, but man…that trailer…) Gosh, you guys know how to prod at that special part of my brain with these asks lately… 🥺 I may or may not have...started writing...little...snippets, really... 😔

Zayne would go into “doctor-mode.” He is going to utilize his medical knowledge and resources to give you the best care possible for both you and the baby, and while it seems you have nothing to worry about, you will feel the emotional-withdrawal from him as everything will feel so methodical and clinical and he forgets completely his role as a husband until you break down crying.

You had tried to keep your emotions in check these last few months, rationalizing that Zayne was never an expressive person, but his feelings and actions were always sincere. He was pacing across the bedroom reviewing with you about your recent prenatal checkup and what it meant for both you and this baby. It had been like this for several months now, and with your weak heart and the risk it posed for both you and the baby, Zayne had been extra attentive about your prenatal care.

As you sat on your bed, heavy with his child and close to your due date, listening to him rattle off different medical terms and speaking to you less as a wife but more as if you were his patient, you could feel your emotions peaking. You couldn’t remember the last time he was affectionate with you or actually asked how you were personally feeling throughout this whole pregnancy. He was by your side more, but you had never felt as lonesome as now, needing him back as your husband and not a doctor. You could feel the tears brimming, but it was getting harder each day to suppress your feelings.

Everything Zayne was saying sounded like muffled gibberish to you. You could barely focus on the present, barely acknowledging even the faint movements of the baby you were carrying, feeling more lost in your loneliness. You finally let your emotions and hormones collide and broke down crying in front of him, startling him immediately. Within seconds, he was on his knees before you, grasping your arms as he asked worriedly, “What’s wrong? Are you hurting somewhere?”

It took you a minute to gather yourself before you felt calm enough to speak, finally revealing to him how you hated who he had become during this time. At first, Zayne looked shocked, not quite comprehending what you had just said to him, but the more he pondered your hurt words, the more he realized there was a lot of truth in what you had said.

He kissed your belly, surprising you. Then, he got up and sat down next to you on the bed, pulling you into his embrace as he kissed your forehead, his apologies immediate and sincere.

“I didn’t mean to,” he said, holding you a little tighter, “I just…don’t want anything to happen to you. Either of you.”

You leaned into his embrace, and sighed softly, “I know…I’m not mad at you. I’m just…”

Zayne looked down, noticing how your words gradually stopped and you were withdrawing again. He lifted your chin, making you look at him as he coaxed you gently, “Just what?”

“I just miss you,” you said, voice breaking again and fresh tears brimmed your eyes. As he brushed your tears away, you cried harder, “And I’m scared…and I can’t stop thinking about all of the things that could go wrong…and then I realize stressing over this is also hurting the baby and…and…”

Zayne looked guilty as he realized that while he was too focused on your physical health, he had neglected your mental and emotional state, realizing how you had been suppressing your feelings for his sake.

He sat back against the headboard and pulled you back to rest against him. He apologized again for his neglect, and for the rest of that night, he listened and comforted you through your anxieties. There was that familiar warmth in his embrace that you missed, and the softness in his eyes returned as he listened to you earnestly. While your anxieties were still there, they seemed more manageable now that you realized the man by your side in this moment was not Doctor Zayne but your Zaynie, your beloved husband.

Rafayel is angry and emotional and will lash out and say things he doesn’t mean, such as he would rather lose the baby than you.

It had been like walking on eggshells these past few months. You had tried to keep your spirits up in spite of the situation, but eventually everything that had been quieted was going to surface, reaching an ugly peak.

You just had never expected him to say such words to you.

“You…don’t want…the baby?” You felt like you were choking as you uttered those words back to Rafayel.

He looked conflicted, his face twisted in pain and frustration. “I…I didn’t mean it,” he finally said, seeming to struggling with not just his words, but also his feelings.

You glared at him with tears in your eyes. “You said it! What could you have possibly meant to say if not that!”

“I don’t want to lose you!” he finally yelled back, frustrated that his words were being used against him by you of all people.

A strained silence filled the space, creating a rift between the two of you as you stared at one another in shock. In the distant, there was the cries of seagulls flying outside the studio, the sound of waves crashing on the shore a peculiar reminder that time was still moving forward even as you two stood frozen, locked in this seemingly unbreakable tension.

After several beats, Rafayel dropped to his knees, his head buried into his hands as he apologized, though it seemed more like he was apologizing for hurting you and not because of what he had said.

You walked closer to him, surprised when his arms wrapped around your waist, and his face pressed against your rounded stomach.

“I’m sorry,” he apologized again. He didn’t look up at you, but his words were heard clear: “I just can’t lose you again.”

You stared down at his head of hair, unsure of what you could say in this moment. He looked so broken and helpless, and while you understood his sentiments, it still did nothing to alleviate the hurt you felt at his earlier words. Shakily, you let your hand rest on the back of his head, as you said softly, “My fishie…I won’t leave you…”

You said that to comfort him, but even you had doubts about whether you could hold true to your words. It was so bright and sunny outside in Linkon today, so why did your future look so gray and uncertain? This was to be a joyous time in both of your lives, but even as you both felt the baby kicked and moved, that cloud of doubt remained.

Xavier is stunned and feels helpless.

It had been an awkward couple of weeks. Xavier was quieter than usual, but he still answered you whenever you spoke. You didn’t think he was upset at you, but you also couldn’t ignore the sudden distance between the two of you.

“Captain Jenna had put me on desk duty for the remainder of my pregnancy,” you told him over dinner one night.

He didn’t answer you, appearing distracted as he was grilling some beef slices on an electric griddle.

“Xavier?”

“Huh?” He looked up, surprised. “Oh, sorry, I had something on my mind. What did you say?”

“I…I said Captain Jenna is putting me on desk duty,” you repeated hesitantly.

“That’s good,” he answered and picked a slice of beef off the griddle to place in your bowl. “You should have some more meat for protein.”

“…thank you,” you said, noticing the way his eyes kept averting with yours. You placed your bowl on the table, upset now. “Xavier, did I do something wrong?”

He looked taken aback by the sudden question. He immediately shook his head. “Wrong? Why would you even think that?”

You frowned. “You’ve barely spoken with me lately,” you said, “It’s been nothing but ‘yeah,’ ‘okay,’ ‘alright’ from you lately.”

“I’m sorry,” he looked at you with remorse etched on his face. He sighed as he turned the griddle off before he rubbed the back of his head awkwardly. “I…I just have something on my mind.”

“You keep saying that,” you retorted, mildly irked now, “What could be on your mind that is more important than being here with me?”

“You.”

Your irritation disappeared in that moment, his solemn gaze resting on you. Slowly, you found your voice, your words stuttering a little in confusion, “Wha…what do…you mean?”

“You and the baby,” he clarified. “Ever since the doctor said this was a high-risk pregnancy, I just…can’t stop thinking about…everything that could go wrong.”

“Xavier…”

“I don’t know how to make this easier for you,” he continued, suddenly unable to hide his anxiety any longer, “And even if we do everything right, what if things go wrong at the last minute? What if—no, just…no…”

You gasped when he suddenly came to you, his arms wrapped around you immediately in a tight embrace. He kissed the top of your head and apologized again, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you upset.”

“Xavier…it will be alright,” you reassured him.

He was silent.

“We’ll both be alright,” you continued.

“Right…” he answered, but you noticed he still didn’t want to let you go. You also didn’t want him to part, so you both remained in this moment a while longer.

Sylus has all of the money and connections in the world. He is going to ensure that both you and the baby will be alright throughout the pregnancy until birth. On the surface, he seems calm and confident, but to keener eyes, such as yours, you will pick up on his anxiety through little tics or behavioral changes.

The moment you had told Sylus you were pregnant with his baby, he lavished you with even more luxuries than before. You received the best care possible, especially when it came to light that this pregnancy was not going to be easy for you and there was concern about the health of the baby. Sylus made sure the most qualified doctors were monitoring you and he had ordered the personal chefs to prepare only nutritional dishes for you and the baby.

He was adamant that you received only the best of the best, and to strangers, Sylus appeared to be so level-headed and grounded, not a trace of worry could be seen on his face.

You, however, noticed how he seemed to drum his fingers on hard surfaces more often. He would also pull out his coin to flip at the most peculiar time, and his visits to the boxing ring also seemed to have increased. There were so many odd tics that you couldn’t ignore, but you suspected you knew the reason why.

One evening, you slipped into bed earlier while Sylus was still sleeping. It would almost be time for him to wake up from his slumber, so you waited. When you noticed the fluttering of his eyes, you leaned in closer, smiling as your face was the first thing he saw once he awoken.

“Good morning,” you greeted him with a mischievous smile, leaning down to peck his lips.

“Mm…morning,” he answered back in amusement, still a little groggy and bleary-eyed. He yawned. “What did I do to deserve seeing such a sweet sight first thing after waking up?”

“I wanted to talk.”

His mirth disappeared in that instance upon hearing your stern tone. He shifted in bed, sitting up with his back to the headboard. “Is something the matter?”

“You tell me.”

Sylus shook his head in confusion. “Sweetie, you are going to have to elaborate more,” he responded with a frown. “What are we talking about?”

“Are you…worried?”

“Worry?”

You rested a hand over your belly, his gaze instantly following your movement. “About the pregnancy,” you clarified.

“Of course I worry,” he answered back in that same even tone.

“You…seemed so assured, but lately, I’ve noticed these little…tics,” you explained, elaborating to him more in details as he listened patiently. When you finished, Sylus gently pulled you closer to him, letting your body rest against his. His arm wrapped around you, his hand resting on your belly to rub gentle little circles.

“I will always worry about you,” he said, “but panicking over things will not achieve anything, so I just redirected my worries elsewhere. Is that a problem?”

You shook your head and looked up at him. “No, I was just…wondering if you wanted to talk about them with me.”

He laughed and bent down to peck your lips. “You don’t have to worry about me.”

“What if I want to?”

He smiled in amusement and kissed you again. “Then who am I to argue with my pregnant wife?”

“What would you do?”

“Do what?”

“If…I don’t ma—”

“You will be fine,” he immediately cut you off, his demeanor shifting entirely. “You will both be fine.”

“But—”

He lay back down in bed, pulling you closer to him in a tighter embrace. “Lull me to sleep,” he said instead.

“But isn’t it time for you to wake—” You clammed up when he shot you a pointed look. You could sense his unease, feeling his fingers digging into your flesh a little more. He was upset, deeply troubled, and you hated how he carried that burden alone on his shoulders.

“Alright,” you answered, snuggling into his embrace. You sang a song, a lullaby you had learned recently that you hoped to sing to your baby in a few months. As you sang, Sylus quietly hummed along, and it wasn’t long before you both fell asleep together, your worries left behind as you dreamed of the upcoming months when a new bundle of joy would arrive at Onychinus’ base.

Caleb is nervous, but he pours himself into taking care of you, because that is all he has ever known. He’s never liked seeing you ill or hurt, so he is going to do everything possible to make sure you receive the best care ever. He will do a lot of research and ask as many questions as he could to gain insight on what can be done to minimize the risk so both you and the baby will make through the pregnancy as safely as possible. He does not even want to consider the possibility of losing you.

You didn’t have any autonomy over yourself anymore. Whatever you wanted to do, Caleb did it for you first. Whatever you were craving, he would negate it half the time, citing it was better for you to eat a healthier alternative.

Even though you wanted to be mad at him, you knew he was doing this out of worry after the reveal that there were some concerns about this pregnancy. The moment that you had heard the word “risky,” everything afterwards suddenly sounded muffled as you were frozen in shock, a sudden anxiety creeping in as you stared down at your belly. Meanwhile, Caleb was already proactive, asking what needed to be done, what you both needed to be aware of, and so on and so forth. As if he could sense your worries, his hands immediately rested on your shoulders as he stood behind you while he continued to converse with the doctor.

He was your pillar and your protector. He always was, and he always will be.

Even if sometimes you found him to be overbearing.

You had missed many of his more indulgent dishes ever since he had put you on a clean-diet, and each time, you made a point of letting him know just how upset you were as you sulked when he finished setting the table with steamed fish and green veggies with bamboo shoots.

“It’s only temporary,” he reassured you, smiling to himself as he watched you picked at the fish half-heartedly.

“Most women get to enjoy their cravings while pregnant,” you said sullenly, taking a small bite of the fish.

He nodded in agreement as he sat down opposite of you. “If this was a normal pregnancy, then of course you should be able to indulge on your cravings—”

You looked at him hopefully.

“But your cholesterol level is higher than normal, and we also need to be cautious about the risk of developing gestational diabetes—”

You sulked again. “You are killing my appetite again.”

Caleb laughed softly as he set his chopsticks down. He cocked his head to the side, his chin resting in the palm of his hand as he leaned forward on the table. “What are you craving, pipsqueak?”

“What does it matter? You won’t let me have anything…” You bit into your bamboo shoot, not making eye contact with him.

“Pretend I will,” he answered in the same tone.

You shrugged. “…Pasta.”

“Pasta? Okay,” he answered thoughtfully, “What else?”

“Hmm…pizza…cheesecake…dumplings…”

Caleb covered his mouth to suppress his laughter as he watched you list each food longingly, practically lost in your own world and not even paying attention to him anymore. When it seemed you had finished listing, he questioned you again, “That’s all?”

You sighed and shook your head.

“What else is there? You’ve practically listed all of the food available on takeout menus,” he teased.

“…Braised chicken wings…”

Caleb looked surprised. “What?”

“Your braised chicken wings,” you clarified and looked up to meet his surprised gaze.

“Okay,” he said after a moment, “I’ll make some braised chicken wings tomorrow for dinner.”

You perked up. “R-really?” You eyed him suspiciously. “What about my clean diet?”

“In moderation would be fine,” he answered, smiling, “Besides, having the mother of my child miserable the whole time is also not good for the baby.”

You huffed at him, annoyed. “I’m miserable because of you.”

He blinked, not expecting you to suddenly be mad at him again. “I’m only—”

“I can’t enjoy the food I like, I’m tired all of the time, I can’t even see my feet anymore, my back hurts, my feet are swollen—how am I fat when I’m not even eating anything yummy?!”

“…are you having a mood swing?”

“Yes!” you cried out hysterically, nearly sobbing, “It’s your fault, too, I can’t control my hormones right now!”

Caleb laughed helplessly as he stood from his seat and crossed over to your side. Immediately, you wrapped your arms around his waist, your face buried against his stomach as you continued to cry and list your grievances with him.

“Alright, alright, it is my fault I gotten you pregnant,” he agreed. He peered down at the top of your head, smiling when you sniffled against his shirt while he rubbed the back of your head soothingly.

“…dummy…”

“Yes, yes, I’m a dummy,” he continued in a very pacifying tone.

“…A big dummy…”

“Mmhmm…”

“The biggest…”

“Right, right…”

You looked up, suspicious again when he continued to be very agreeable. You yelped in surprise when he immediately grabbed your face and leaned down to steal your lips with his. It took you a few seconds to register that he was kissing you before you gave in, feeling a warmth in your chest at his sudden display of affections.

“What else?” he asked softly when he pulled back a few centimeters, still close enough that his breath brushed against your trembling lips while his eyes locked with yours. You could feel his thumb brushing away the tears that were still on your cheeks.

“…you…”

“Me?”

“Uh huh…”

“What do you want from me?”

“Just you…”

He laughed and kissed your forehead. “Alright, pipsqueak,” he said, “You have me. I am all yours. Forever.”

You guided his hand down to your pregnant belly, smiling when that same look of surprise crossed his face again when he felt the baby kicked. Your smile widened as you answered him, “You’re ours.”

He knelt down on one knee, his large hand still resting over your belly as he smiled back before his eyes drifted down to your stomach. “Yeah,” he said, sighing almost as if in disbelief by this current life he was living, “Both of yours. Forever.”

#x — 💌#anonymous #love and deepspace #love and deepspace zayne #love and deepspace rafayel #love and deepspace xavier #love and deepspace sylus #love and deepspace caleb #love and deepspace x reader #zayne x reader #rafayel x reader #xavier x reader #sylus x reader #caleb x reader #lads scenarios #love and deepspace fanfiction #lnds fanfics #i'm testing out a new formatting for whenever i do these types of post idk if i like it or not ;~;

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