#bittersweet lies au | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

sukirichi · 9 months ago

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[ DUSK ‘TILL DAWN : 015 ]

“we who bear the burden of the crown do not need to love. you only need to stay here, with me, in power, in greed, in lust – in victory.”

cw. modern royal au. angst. physical violence (not to the reader.) manipulation. lying. angst. hurt and a little bit of comfort ig??

notes. feedbacks / reblogs/ comments are appreciated <3

wc. 10.4k

series masterlist

[ FIFTEEN ] scattered ‘cross my family line, i’m so good at telling lies – that came from my mother’s side, told a million to survive. . . i can’t forget, i can’t forgive you. ‘cause now i’m scared that everyone i love will leave me

“This was a mistake. We should get divorced.”

The tranquil song of the sea was deceptive. A vast expanse of silver under the soft glow of the full moon caressed Rintaro’s face, his handsome face heartbreakingly heartbroken. The moon hung low in the sky, casting a serene, almost ethereal light upon the two of you. On the distant coast, a lighthouse flickered, its beam briefly piercing the darkness before vanishing. The momentary light was enough to let you see – the truth, the split-second show of vulnerability within his eyes before it left only the memory of its glow.

Rintaro stood in front of you, at an arm’s length away but your heart worlds apart. The long line of spray marked where the sea met the land, its boundary evident. There, where the moon’s loght turned the sand into a luminous carpet beneath your feet, the waves lulled your racing hearts into quiet murmurs swallowed by the breeze.

You listened to his words – words that carried the weight of an ending unforeseen. Disbelief clouded your mind. You refused to accept what you just heard. Turning your head the other way, you bit down on your lip, hard enough you tasted the coppery tang of blood.

The rhythm of the sea was like the lilt of your heartbeat, steady yet trembling. It began, ceased, and began again, each cycle mirroring this endless round of circles you and Rintaro ran in – to loving, to hurting, to forgiving. Was this how ended? In a poorly-timed farewell?

You always knew this moment would come. Someone would have had to say goodbye. You just never thought the words would come from his mouth.

Your feet rooted deep in the sand, you listened to the melancholy refrain of waves crashing against each other. The moonlight reflected in the water, a silver path stretching into the unknown. You stood there, letting the sea speak the emotions too deep to be said out loud.

And what a moment it was – with the beauty of the night, the serene majesty of the sea, and bittersweet flicker of candles behind you.

It would’ve been easier if the sea held your sadness, with the moon as your witness in your quiet despair, the cliffs holding onto their stone each memory you knew you’d keep for many years to come. The night air, sweet and cool, carried away and brought with the wind your unshed tears.

This was a mistake. We should get divorced.

Rintaro’s words echoed in your mind, a cruel reminder that some stories, no matter how beautiful or tragic, all had its end.

“What did you say?” you licked your lips, forcing a smile despite the wobbliness of your knees. It couldn’t be, right? The night was going well. Fate couldn’t be so cruel – he’d just begun to love you. “I must have heard you wrong.”

Your husband turned away from you, his grip on the bouquet tightening. You watched as the flowers crushed between its force, its beauty drained with one just hand.

“You didn’t. I meant what I said – we should end this.”

“Why?”

His head snapped your way. “What do you mean, why?” he hissed, the bouquet slammed on the ground as he gestured to the air. His eyes were blown wide, frantic and desperate. “Look around you. Don’t you realize none of this feels right? Let’s drop the act, Princess. Neither of us truly want each other, and don’t tell me I’m wrong when I see the way you look at me.”

You reeled back, unknowingly clutching at your chest. “And how do I look at you?”

“Like you’re thinking of ways to get rid of me,” he spat out with a laugh, “Like-like you’re looking for the man who courted you two years ago, the one you truly wanted to marry. Well, I’m sorry to disappoint, because you’re not going to find him. He never existed in the first place. Whatever it is you’re looking for, you won’t find it in me,” his eyes blazed with fury, but then, as if the fire within him had been doused, his hands fell limply at his sides. “But you may find him in someone else.”

Rintaro’s gaze dropped to the floor. Sorrow filled his eyes, his expression softened before he spun on his heel. Turning away, your husband stepped forward.

“Take one more step–” you threatened him, hands balled into fists. “–and I will make you regret it.”

“Do your worst,” came his tired reply, his shoulders slumped. “I couldn’t care less.”

His steps were quick, as if he couldn’t waste any more time in getting away from you. It made blood boil within your veins. Before you could notice, you’d already crossed the distance in one breath, furiously grabbing him by the elbow and spinning him to face you. You were certain you look crazed – your face flushed, your cheeks damp with tears rolling down. He must’ve seen it too, his face falling at the sight of you.

“No! You think you can walk away from me? You think you can do all this–” you gestured to the beach around you, finding it harder to breathe with each word you spoke. “–buy me a house, tell me you envisioned a future with me, made love to me, and even prepared this dinner–”

“I didn’t do it for you. It was Kiyoomi who came up with this idea because he wanted to make you happy.”

Shaking your head, you shoved at his chest. “He wouldn’t do that. Kiyoomi wouldn’t be so cruel!”

“Oh, but I am for going along with it?” he snapped, closing the distance until his wrath enveloped you. “Get out of your head. Just because I did all those things for you, doesn’t mean they meant something. Are you forgetting I spent two years of my life trying to win you over, and I never once felt something for you other than tolerance?” When your face fell, triumph washed over his features. “That’s right. You remember now, don’t you? She’s the one I want. Everything I do is for her. Don’t forget your place.”

“My place? I am your wife. It’s my ring that you have on your finger. What place should I be forgetting? All of this is for me, you did this for me–”

“Oh, wake the fuck up, Y/N!” he bellowed, grabbing at his hair before he turned to glare at you. “I’m so tired of you going around acting like everything I do meant something. Has it never crossed your mind I could have just been bored? It didn’t, did it? Because you’re honestly foolish enough to let your guard down and believe that I wanted you!”

“Then why do all this if you didn’t?” you retorted, “You could become King as long as you married me and I gave you a son. You didn’t have to buy me a house, o-or act like you cared behind the cameras–”

“Well, are you? Are you with child?”

“No, but why does–”

“Then you have no hold over me. Marriage means nothing. This ring? This stupid fucking thing?” You glanced at the gold band at his finger, the one you watched roll over the floor on that day you gave it back to him. Rintaro hadn’t taken it off since, but now he looked at with resentment – like it suffocated him, choked him. “It means nothing. You cannot make me King if you don’t give me a child. And as long as you’re walking around without a baby in your belly, then you mean nothing to me. You have no purpose in my life.”

“So that’s what this is, then? Because she’s pregnant and I’m not?”

Rintaro’s face morphed into despair for a fleeting moment, so quick you questioned if you saw it at all. But almost as quickly, Rintaro’s posture straightened, his eyes hardening with steely resolve. Your breath caught in your throat – your suspicions confirmed.

So it was true. He knew.

And all of this – this house, that mocking conversation of building a family with you – it had been nothing but a cruel joke.

A strangled gasp escaped your lips. Stumbling back, your hands instinctively clutched at your chest as if desperately holding together the pieces of your shattered heart. The attempt was all for naught. The weight of betrayal crashed over you like a thundering wave. Each thought was a daggered stabbed to your soul as the pieces fit together – your husband, the one you loved, and his true love, now carrying his child.

Tears welled up, blurring your vision. You tried to hold them back, refusing to let him have the satisfaction that he’d succeeded in hurting you.

And it had been so easy, wasn’t it? He knew you so well, knew you like the back of his hand, that it came without too much effort that it was so easy to have you wrapped around his finger. One kiss, one tender touch, one proclamation of his so-called affections, and you would’ve broken your back bending to his will. He knew. He knew how easy it would be to win you over, and time and time again, you fell for it like the fool you were.

Everything burned. The pain was too raw, too overwhelming.

“You are cruel, Suna Rintaro. I regret the day I danced with you,” you gritted your teeth, digging your nails into your palm. Hard. “Perhaps you are right. We should get divorced.”

Rintaro sighed. “It’s for the best, even if it’s not what you think.”

“Because you can finally be with her, right? Your dream life is already coming true. You’re going to be a father, you’re going to spend a future with the one you love, and I’m hopelessly in love with you enough that I’ll just let it happen,” you smiled for him, clapping your hands together slowly and mockingly. “Congratulations. It’s everything you wanted. Things are finally going accordingly to plan. Should we open a wine to celebrate?”

He narrowed his eyes at you. “Stop acting like a child. You knew what you were getting into when you caught us together and still proceeded with the wedding.”

“You still blame me for that after everything I did for you?”

The silence hung in the air. Somehow, his lack of response already spoke a thousand words.

Unable to help yourself, you glanced at the beach house behind Rintaro. It stood proudly against the backdrop of the setting sun, its white walls glowing warmly in the fading light.

The memories came flooding all at once – the laughter you shared, the stolen kisses when he thought no one was looking, the whispered promises of a life you’d never life. You could almost see them dancing in front of you, like ghosts of the past, lingering in the shadows of the porch and taunting you with the fact it had been too good to be true. So many dreams built, so many dreams shattered.

Your heart ached in ways it shattered you bone-deep. It echoed from your chest and reverberated down to your feet as you recalled the nights you spent wrapped in his arms. His hands on your cheeks, a small smile on his face – when he still looked at you like he loved you and meant it.

But now? Now, that love felt like a cruel illusion – a beautiful dream turned into a living nightmare. The betrayal cut deep, deep enough it left behind the harsh hand prints on your soul. The wounds stinging hard that it might never heal. You forced yourself to tear your gaze away from it – from the swing on the porch swaying gently on the evening breeze, the window that once framed your silhouettes when you welcomed the sunrise together. Each detail was a stab to your already broken heart.

A stray tear fell on your cheek. Brushing it away, hands trembling, you took a deep breath – forcing the salty air to fill your lungs. “Was… was any of it real?”

Turning away from the house was the hardest part. Each step felt heavy, as if the weight of your memories were trying to pull you back. You cast one last, longing glance over your shoulder, your heart silently breaking anew.

Deep down, you already knew his answer. Still, it did not soften the blow when the words left his lips. It didn’t hurt any less when regret crossed his features, like somehow; a part of him wished it had been. “No. None of it was.”

“Okay,” you resigned, your body turned away from him, so he wouldn’t have to see be so pathetic anymore. When you finally spoke again, your voice came out as a breathy whisper. “You should go.”

You heard a slight shuffling behind you, followed by his mumbled words. “I never wanted to stay, anyway.”

When Rintaro walked away from you, each step he took was daunting, final. You didn’t know what hurt you more – the fact he never looked back, or the fact he never hesitated. But there was one thing that was made crystal clear to you now: it was never going to be you. How deeply unfair it was, that a man could say things he did not mean, do things he did not want to. How he could marry you and buy a house, and then turn you away at the next moment.

Love truly was a dangerous thing. It made you break down your walls, hopelessly and blindly handing your heart in the hands of someone, all while silently hoping they wouldn’t break it. And when it did, who would pick up the fallen pieces? Who would gather the shattered shards of your soul as it spilled like blood through his fingertips?

You didn’t have an answer for any of these.

Knees buckling, you fell into the sand, your palms sinking on it with its weight. You cried your heart out – the skies hearing your anguish as it echoed in the dead of the night. You screamed, begged, and called out for a God who never listened. The betrayal left a bitter taste on your tongue, a relentless ache that gnawed at your insides until it felt like nothing was left. As if you’d been hollowed out, bled out to dry, and discarded to the side.

You laid there for who knew how long. The flames of the candle had gone out, the food forgotten and cold. Sand had made its way into your joints and your hair. Your cheek felt crusty and hard from the dried tears. You cried and cried until there were no more tears left – watching from the horizon as the skies deepened into a darker shade.

Just then, a jacket fell on your bare shoulders. Stiffening, you raised your head from where you rested it on your drawn knees – blearily blinking at the figure before you. The man stood tall even with his legs bent, the faintest hint of spice mixing with the breeze.

Behind you, the Second Prince stood, his face devoid of any emotion. Yet, his eyes said it all. You are briefly shocked by how much you saw of yourself within him at that moment. The longing, the sadness – Kiyoomi wore his grief proudly. At the sight of you, his face softened. He offered his hands, one you took with no hesitance, and allowed him to pull you up to your feet. You two stood like that for a few minutes – unspeaking, and just staring at each other.

Kiyoomi was the first to look away.

“You’re cold. You shouldn’t stay out here,” tightening his jacket around you, the Prince suddenly pulled you in for an embrace. It happened too fast, faster than you could react. Before you knew it, your face was pressed against his chest, his heartbeat – strong and mighty – the only sound audible aside from the howling breeze. And you sunk into his hold as your tears stained his shirt, realizing a little too late how much you needed this – to be held so tightly like he feared letting you, like he could squeeze you hard enough and it would hopefully – eventually – piece back together the heart his brother had broken.

“Shhh. I got you, Princess. I’ll always be here for you.”

You’ve gone past the point of believing such flowery words. But when it came from Kiyoomi, you never doubted he’d keep the promises he’d made.

The once-vibrant beach house, filled with laughter and endless conversations, now stood in silence. Its walls held the unspoken truth that forever was not going to last. The gentle breeze that had always carried a promise of endless days spent in joy now whispered farewells through the rustling palms.

Rintaro had begun his farewells. Now, it was your turn to leave everything behind.

The Princes and their companions moved with quiet efficiency. Ever since that dreadful night, things hadn’t been the same anymore. No one spoke about what happened, but it didn’t take a fool to understand that romantic dinners weren’t supposed to end with you and Rintaro returning to the house hours apart – both miserable and mum. One quick look at you two, and the Princes began packing up.

Everyone knew their time had run up.

Casting a final, longing glance at the house, you breathed in the salty breeze one last time. The memories clung to you, each step you took feeling like a betrayal to the woman you could’ve been – the wife he could’ve had, and the mother you would’ve been. With a heavy heart, you watched as everyone loaded their luggage back to their respective vehicles, each one of them driving off. Their movements – along with yours – had been mechanical, as if the finality of their departure had numbed everyone to their core.

You looked out the window. The sun had began to greet the world with its morning kiss. The sea, once shimmering and glistening with spark-like waves, now seemed to mourn with you. The beach, scattered with the footprints of a happier time you’d said goodbye to, would soon be swept clean by the tides.

Any traces of the memories you made would be wiped clean by the world itself. If only it could give you a new beginning, too.

The journey back to the palace was somber. The rolling hills and distant forests passed by in a blur of muted colors – the world passed you by, in both the literal and metaphorical sense. If anything, the ride back felt like walking into your own death. A death march of duty and purpose. Speaking of duty… your hands cradled your belly. You weren’t pregnant, nor were you experiencing any symptoms. Rintaro knew this, too, otherwise he wouldn’t have thrown it in your face that you were merely nothing but a breeding mare for him – and a failed one, at that.

The palace loomed ahead, its grand spires and imposing walls reminding you of your reality.

Back at the beach house, your emotions were valid. There, you were a brokenhearted person who longed for true love. Here, though? None of that mattered. The Palace was not a place for emotions. It was a pillar, the foundation of what the Crown held – power, victory, wealth, control. Here, you were a Princess, and a Princess should always hold her head high.

You couldn’t do it. Bile rose up your throat each time you pictured yourself walking down its grand hallways, the gold shimmering and blinding you. Just the mere thought of the Queen studying you with her observant gaze made you squeamish.

You turned to Rintaro. “Can we please head to my parents instead?”

He looked at you like you’d grown two heads. The Palace was already in view. Still, his gaze darted at you, and back at the Palace, as if seriously considering it. Then, he pinched the bridge of his nose and slumped against his seat. “If you are doing this as an act of revenge–”

“I’m not. My parents truly did want to see us.”

Rintaro contemplated. Absentmindedly, he spun the ring on his finger, gazing down at it with an unreadable expression. His voice was light, and whisper-like as he said, “You cannot tell them about the affair.”

You pursed your lips. You never planned on doing so in the first place. Crossing your arms against your chest, you huffed. “Don’t worry, Your Highness. I never planned on ruining your perfect image.”

Rintaro didn’t bother with responding. Instead, he asked the driver to head back to the Yuzuru Estate, and quickly informed Her Majesty on the detour. It didn’t take long enough before you were surrounded by the familiar grove of trees that led to your place. The sound of wheels on cobblestone mingled with the soft murmur of the midday breeze. Outside, the manicured gardens and stately mansions blurred into a comforting embrace, their elegant silhouettes nostalgic. You couldn’t help but feel the need to reach out, to run your fingertips over the freshly mowed grass, or admire the shapely bushes designed to perfection.

You missed your home very much – one of the few places you felt solace in before your life turned upside down.

Pulling up into the driveway, your butler immediately opened the doors for you. There was a round of warm welcomes and joyful smiles. You’d missed them, too – all the loyal staff who took turns watching over you, even when they remained hesitant to properly acquaint themselves. Nevertheless, it was home. You greedily breathed the fresh air in, letting it fill up your lungs as you breathed out the darkness pooling at your chest.

The double doors opened, and the two of you were ushered in. A few minutes later, your mother came rushing past – a shawl drawled at the curves of her arms. A smile instantaneously, rising up from your seat to meet her halfway.

“My daughter, oh, how I missed you!” she laughed, the sound of it light and coloring up the room. Pulling back from the embrace, she cupped your face with her gloved hands – all her previous smiles slowly wavering. “My goodness, have you been eating well? Sleeping well? You look… different.”

You winced. It would be hard to hide things from her, but you had to try.

Leaning into her palm, you gave her the biggest smile you could muster – teeth flashed and all. “I’m okay, Mother. The Palace can just get a little exhausting sometimes.”

“Does your husband not help you with your duties?”

It was your father who spoke this time. He must’ve come straight from trimming the bushes; a sunhat covered his head, and he wore gardening gloves that were stained with grass and a miniscule of dirt. You didn’t miss the way his gaze leered at your husband. Rintaro was stiff behind you, having stood up as well as soon as your mother entered. “He does most of them, so I believe he is more tired than I am,” you supplied, pointedly ignoring Rintaro’s relieved sigh. Clapping your hands together, you walked towards your father with open arms. “But let’s not discuss any of that – how is everyone doing? I feel like it’s been forever since I last stepped in here.”

“Ah, no,” your father complained as he held you at an arm’s length away, “My clothes are soiled, and you are pristine. Do not bother yourself with getting dirtied.”

You pouted; your mother giggling behind you.

Being back at home was an instant medication. You hadn’t been here in months, yet the effect was evident – your shoulders felt lighter, your smile more natural. You’d stopped trying to think of Iris, too, yet you remained warily aware of your husband. And it was clear Rintaro was unsure of himself. He lingered longer on the doorways, his interactions with your parents more formal than it had been compared to the first time he called upon you. You couldn’t blame him for his discomfort – the question of his affair lingered on the air.

It was only a matter of time before someone addressed it.

A few hours later, with your stomachs filled with warm, homemade meals, you all moved out towards the back gardens. The garden stretched out in a lush expanse beneath the golden glow of the setting sun, each corner rich with the memories of your precious childhood.

Winding stone paths meandered through vibrant displays of blooming flowers – roses in shades of crimson and blush, peonies in soft pastels, and clusters of fragrant lavender. Elegant statues and an ornate fountain stood in the middle of it, their waters cascading beautifully. Majestic oak trees, their branches spreading wide in a serene embrace, provided cool, dappled shade – your signature reading spot from your teenage years.

You’d made many memories here; time spent with your father chasing you and your mother around as your gurgled giggles echoed through the air. It was also where your father taught you to use weapons (much to your mother’s distaste), and eventually, even a date spot when Rintaro wanted a reprieve from the public eye.

Rintaro and your father went ahead. Your father claimed he hadn’t properly worked out in a while, and that perhaps your husband could help him warm up. Beside you, you and your mother watched as the two men rolled their sleeves up to practice sparring. It’s a silly thing, but one you knew Rintaro enjoyed. He often spent time with your father like this when he was still courting you. They toyed with weapons, hunted birds, and sparred with one another. It was your father’s way of gauging Rintaro’s strength at first. Now, they simply did it as a way of bonding.

You smiled despite yourself.

You could still remember those times vividly, where warmth crept up your neck upon the knowledge your parents liked this boy you adored. You appreciated all his efforts, never once backing down from an absurd request from your mother, or another challenge from your father. Rintaro had proven to them, without fail, that he was dedicated in winning your heart.

He’d succeeded. It would be impossible if he didn’t.

He came every day, always at seven in the morning, with a bouquet of flowers that led you into reserving a room just to turn it into an indoor garden. He’d brought flowers for your mother, too, and you knew the moment she shed a tear at his sweetness, that he’d also won their hearts. The sweet ‘yes’ he’d been working hard finally came a year during the courtship. It was on that memorable night he’d driven you out for dinner – no drivers, no servants, no anything. Just you and I, he’d said with a smile, placing a kiss upon your knuckles.

It was the first night you’d kissed him, and the first night you stayed up awake as you lost the battle of trying to calm your racing heart.

If you’d known that early that his heart had already been occupied… No.

Even if you knew, even after you knew, it was too late. You were doomed from the moment he’d picked you out from the crowd. You’d resigned yourself to your fate when the throng of people parted for him as he made his way to you, wearing the most dazzling, lazy smile befitting for a Crown Prince.

You didn’t stand a chance.

You might’ve fallen in love the moment you stepped on his toes, and all he did was laugh.

“My dear,” your mother’s silken voice pulled you out of your trance. Smiling at her, you turned her way, silently sipping on the tea the servants had prepared. Before you, your mother twitched, playing with her fingers splayed on her lap. “I don’t mean to suddenly spring this up on you, but surely you’ll understand a mother’s curiosity and concern. So, tell me. Is it real? Is it true the Crown Prince is cheating on you?”

Your body froze. You’d seen this coming – known she would’ve asked one way or another.

“No, Mother,” you shook your head, dropping your gaze onto your lap in the hopes she wouldn’t see right through you. “His Highness would never. That article was already proven to be a hoax.”

“I see…”

You shared an uneasy silence. Seated across from each other, you stirred your tea absentmindedly, gaze drifting over the manicured hedges that framed the secluded nook. Your mother, poised and composed, sipper her tea with deliberate slowness. You could tell without looking at her that her inquisitive gaze searched for answers on your face. For signs of the truth you struggled to conceal with each passing minute.

The gentle clinking of porcelain and the soft rustling of leaves did little to alleviate the tension, the silence between you two growing heavier with each unspoken word.

Finally, your mother set her cup down and sighed. “I still remember the day the Crown Prince came to call on you,” she began, her words delicate and careful. Her gaze flitted to the two men before you, still elbow-deep in their sparring. “Your father and I didn’t want to believe it at first. You were always beautiful, of course, but you were such a shy, little thing. We worried you might grow old without striking a conversation with any man, but a Prince? A Crown Prince, no less? We were over the moon,” she shook her head at the memory, a small smile playing on her lips. “But then your father and I both agreed you didn’t deserve any lesser man. There couldn’t have been anyone else for you. The Crown Prince was perfect.”

He was, you wanted to agree, he used to be.

“I remember that day, too,” you mused, the image of the Prince with his slicked-back hair and three piece suit flashing in your mind.

You’d expected he would look out of your place in the Estate, whatnot with the royal crest on his chest, yet he never looked more fitting – surrounded by your family portraits and delicately gazing at your childhood photos.

“He was especially handsome – I’d say even more so than when he showed up for the Palace’s royal events.”

“Well, I wouldn’t be surprised. It was clear he wanted to impress us, and you, especially,” teased your mother with a slight poke of her elbow, her face softening. “I remember it all, my dear. How he would always share with us his plans for the dates he’d take you on, how he always took you home at the exact time he promised he would. He was a perfect son, the perfect addition to our small family. And I could never, ever forget how you changed when you met him.”

“I changed?” your brows furrowed, before you shrugged in agreement. “I suppose I have. Being with someone like him… I had to be conscious and aware of everything I did. Do you remember that, Mother? When I begged you to come shopping for clothes for me when you knew I never was interested in any of it?”

Your mother giggled behind her hands.

“I was so happy that day when you asked me to come with you! I thought my sweet girl was finally growing into a mature woman. But that wasn’t the change I was talking about,” she continued, sliding her chair closer to yours. Her palm landed on top of your knee, and she slowly caressed there – just like how she did when you first scraped your knees. And how healing it was, a mother’s tender touch on top of your wounds. It made you want to rip your heart out and shove it between her fingers, to silently beg her to make it all okay.

“…When you met him, you became radiant. In love. You smiled more often, and you opened up a whole new world that the Prince showed you. There wasn’t a day you didn’t speak fondly of him. And you had that look on your face, sweetheart–” she ran a finger down the side of your face, her eyes glistening with tears. You couldn’t understand why she looked so broken. “–it was in your eyes. Everyone could tell how much you loved the Prince.”

You swallowed, the smiles you wore becoming more and more faded. “Mother, I still love him.”

“I know, sweetheart, I can tell,” she cooed. Prying the cup from your hands, she immediately held your hands in hers, her warmth soothing as it seeped through her gloves. “But I also know you’re not happy anymore.”

Your resolve began to crumble.

“Mother…”

Your eyes began to glisten with unshed tears that you struggled to keep at bay. Despite your best effort, the façade of composure slipped. A single tear escaped, trailing a path down your cheek – and just like that – a dam had opened. The door holding your secrets unlocked. It was hard – painfully so – to pretend everything was okay when it was not. You felt like a little child again. A little girl craving her mother’s soothing embrace, and you couldn’t help it – you launched yourself into her arms, burying your face in the crook of her shoulder as your body shook with each sob.

“Oh, sweetheart,” your mother patted your back. Judging by the way her body quivered under you, she’d been crying, too. “It’s okay, I promise. Please, tell me what’s wrong. I can’t handle seeing you like this.”

“Mother, it’s…” you bit at your lip, trying to muffle the whimpers that passed your lips. “I’m sorry, it’s true. I didn’t want to lie, or have to hide it from you, but Rintaro loves you both a lot and I was afraid you’d hate him–”

“Oh! Oh, my poor baby. Never apologize, okay? It wasn’t your fault.”

You clutched her tight, her dress balled into your fists. A part of you told you that you should feel pathetic, that your actions weren’t Princess-like. That Her Majesty would frown at the sight of you and tell you to act your age. But you couldn’t muster the strength, not when your mother’s embrace was the only thing keeping you together – the only thing that told you it was safe enough to fall apart. And so you cried, your tears soaking her dress and the fabric wrinkling under your grip.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

Your mother’s sniffles was the last thing you heard before the sound of a fist connecting with skin resounded in the area. Pulling back, you gasped at what you saw.

Rintaro was lying on the ground, your father on top of him. Your father grasped Rintaro by the collar, delivering blow by blow to his face until blood spattered to the grass. Somehow, you managed to scream. The sound was ear-splitting as your heels hit the ground, clutching the ends of your dress as you ran for him. Rintaro wasn’t putting up a fight – his arms limp by his side, his head swaying with each merciless punch on his face.

“Stop!”

“You cheating bastard,” your father glowered, rearing his arm back for one final blow. “How could you do that to my daughter?”

“Father! Please, stop!”

The commotion caused servants to pour from every corner. The guards arrived, pulling your father back by the elbow as he struggled to free from their restraints. Meanwhile, your mother stood beside him – crying and dabbing her handkerchief at his blood knuckles. And you? You fell on the ground, uncaring that the grass had stained your dress, and loomed over your husband. “Rin,” you called out. A low groan was all you received, but it was enough. You breathed out a sigh of relief, immediately calling for the servants to bring some ice and towels.

“Get out of here! You aren’t welcome here anymore!” your father kept kicking and screaming, the sounds of your mother’s pleas falling on deaf ears. “I swear by the Gods your title won’t keep you safe, boy, you will regret it–”

“Get up,” hooking your arm around Rintaro’s elbow, you grunted at his weight. “Rin. Come on. Let’s go.”

Still dazed from being beaten, Rintaro’s legs wobbled underneath him. He groaned, finally wrapping an arm around your shoulders as you limped back to the house. Your father was still a screaming mess, but you knew your mother would calm him down eventually. For now, you needed to tend to his cuts.

You brought Rintaro up to your room. A servant had left an ice pack and some towels there already. Making Rintaro get rid of his bloodied shirt, he changed into one of your father’s – his wince displeased yet left with no choice. Once he’d changed into something clean, he sat at the edge of your bed, shoulders slumped and his handsome face bloodied and bruised.

The air was thick with uneasiness in the dimly lit confines of your room.

The soft glow of your candlelight flickered across the ornate furnishings and Rintaro’s wounds. You worked quietly before him, finding there was no need to speak. His face, usually lacking in interest and graced with slow, lackadaisical smiles, was marred by a collection of bruises and cuts.

Your hand trembled slightly as you carefully dabbed a cloth soaked in cool water against a swollen cheek. The Crown Prince, despite his physical pain, looked even more vulnerable under the soft lights – his usual demeanor replaced by quiet resignation.

With delicate movements, you applied salves, ensuring your touch remained tender and soothing. It wouldn’t erase the hurt from his body, but maybe your care would make it ache less. Each gentle stroke of your fingers served as a silent apology for the pain he endured. And the room, filled with the faint scent of healing balms and the soft rustle of fabric, suddenly felt all too intimate.

The silence between you was heavy, punctuated only by the occasional rustle of the bandages and the soft sighs coming from him. As you finished tending to his wounds, your eyes met, and for a moment, it felt like he was that young man from two years ago – fresh-faced, and red-cheeked upon entering a maiden’s room for the first time. He’d been so nervous back then, his hands clammy and drenched with sweat. In reality, that man was just a fragment of who he truly was now – your poor, bruised husband who winced at every tender, caring touch. As if your love wounded him, and cut him in ways he couldn’t heal from.

As if he just waited for that finishing blow to come from you instead, to be his final damnation.

But it never came.

In that fragile moment, Rintaro closed his eyes, leaning into the caress of your palm as it hovered beside his face. This gesture you remembered – of him accidentally cutting his palm open with a letter opener years ago, and when you’d wrapped bandages around his wound. He did the same thing and leaned into your touch, only to kiss the insides of your wrist. He’d looked up at you from under his lashes, his lips full and ready to be kissed. And kiss him you did, because then he’d been yours, and you’d been his.

You didn’t pull away then. You couldn’t pull away now.

Using your thumb to stroke his swollen cheek, you sighed, the sound tired and heavy. “Did you tell my father? Is that why he beat you up?”

“No. We barely spoke during the spar,” he informed, tongue darting out to lick the dried blood off his lips. “But he kept looking over at you and your mother. I reckon he was just waiting for you to reveal the truth eventually,” just then, Rintaro chuckled, wincing when the motion made his cuts split further apart. His smile remained, however, and you drunk his features in – the way he tipped his head to the side, his eyes hooded, with just the barest hint of a playful smile. “You were never a good liar, you know that?”

“Is that so?”

“Hmm,” he hummed, “On our second date, you told me you didn’t want to watch the movies because you were worried people might crowd us. But it was written all over your face how much you wanted to.”

That, you remembered, as well. You found it impossible how a Prince – a Crown Prince – could simply saunter to the theaters like he was any regular man. He was right; you did want to. You’d never been to the theaters since it was always crowded, and you never did well in the dark. But you soon learned the dark wasn’t so scary when he had his arms wrapped around you. If anything, it felt elating – having the Prince play with your fingers, his gaze never really focusing on the movie.

Rintaro’s jaw clenched, more so in thought. “You always kept things to yourself, always did things for me even when it made you uncomfortable. Was it because I’m the Crown Prince that you felt you couldn’t be honest with me?”

“Not entirely. I guess I was just afraid that if I didn’t do what you liked, then you would lose interest in me.”

“That would never happen,” he interjected, “The moment I laid my eyes on you, I knew you were the one I wanted to marry.”

The realization dawned on him a little too late. His words carried weight with its double meaning, and he winced. The moment was broken. The thread snapped right in front of your eyes. Pulling away from him, you quickly gathered the bloodied towels and set it aside. You made yourself busy, fully aware of his eyes on you, but you wouldn’t dare look back. You had a feeling that if you did, your mind would run rampant again on the last time he’d been here in your room, when your sheets still smelled like him, and he’d fucked you hard enough on your bed that your bodies left an imprint.

You wouldn’t look at him. You couldn’t.

“I’m sorry about what my father did.”

“It’s fine. I deserved every punch,” he shrugged it off, then smirked. “Although I’m probably less appealing in your eyes now. Bruised and all. I don’t look very Prince Charming-like.”

You snorted. “Since you wish for my honesty, then I’ll tell you now the whole Prince Charming act never suited you.”

“Really?”

“Yes. I liked you better when you finally became more comfortable around me. You weren’t as poetic as when you first started courting me, but you were more… yourself. You were funnier, and a lot more charming when you weren’t trying so hard,” you broke that rule all too easily, and you did look at him. You looked at him, even if you could never see through him. “To me, it felt like I wasn’t dating the Crown Prince at all. I liked the unfiltered version of Suna Rintaro better. The one who enjoyed silences, instead of filling it with flowery words to get my heart fluttering. The one who preferred phone calls over texts because you wanted to hear my voice before going to sleep. The one who I considered my closest friend, the one I knew I wanted to marry, too.”

He was beautiful like this – his shirt hanging loosely at his broad shoulders, his arms slightly leaning back as it dipped with his weight on the mattress. His hair was tousled, the dark locks beautifully framing his face. And his eyes – hazel and more brown than green as the orange ember glows kissed him – were something you could lose yourself in for hours. For forever, even.

Suddenly, you wanted the world to end this way. You wanted time to stop if it meant picturing him like this, frozen and unguarded, beautiful and smelling like your perfume. You would’ve died a happy man if it meant this would be your last moment. With him on your bed, his clothes on your floor, and your ring on his finger.

You yearned for him so badly your body ached.

“Princess,” he mumbled after a pregnant pause, his voice coming out small as he said, “Why don’t you hate me?”

“Who says I don’t?”

The smile you pulled from him is lighthearted; unresevered. “Let me rephrase my question. Why do you still love me?”

Because isn’t that what love is? To know someone’s flaws, and to accept them as who they are? To see all your bad mornings and watch you stumble into the bathroom, clumsy and hazy. To see you at your worst, to choose arguments with you than silence with you. I thought that’s what love meant – to see the ugliness in another and to defy the impulse to turn the other way in search of another, the ‘someone better.’

You don’t tell him that. Instead, you offer another truth. “I wish I knew how to answer that myself.”

“I’m afraid,” Rintaro admitted, voice vulnerable and small. “I fear that one day, your hatred of me will consume you, and you will forget why you ever loved me.”

The candles cast soft shadows off his face, flickering like the fleeting time of the time you had with him. Each flame pulsed with the restless ache in your heart as you recalled the moments of closeness and intimacy that was half-heartedly reciprocated.

Your gaze drifted toward the space where he’d once lain beside you, the indentation in the sheets a painful reminder of the absence that now filled the void. You wanted to tell him you hadn’t changed the sheets since he last slept here. The scent of his cologne still lingered in the air, he still had his own pair of socks in your drawer, he’d left a wristwatch or two behind. He was here everywhere in your room, even if his heart wasn’t.

And it was so hard – so fucking hard – to accept that he didn’t love you.

Want me, you pleaded silently, at least want me. Just a little bit.

With slow, deliberate steps, your hand rested lightly on the bed’s edge, your fingers brushing against the cool, smooth fabric, as if permanently pushing the warmth of his presence back to the bed. Your heart ached with a bittersweet yearning for a heart that was never fully yours, a yearning that clung to you until it wrapped its fingers around your throat.

He was here now, wasn’t he? He wasn’t leaving. He said he would divorce you, he said it was always going to be her, but he was here – in front of you, in your room. If you dared to reach out a hand and crawl close enough, you could fall into his lap and cradle his head to your chest. And it was exactly that passionate longing that would ruin you – because you couldn’t resist. You couldn’t resist from trailing your fingers up his arm, all the way to his face. His eyes were unreadable; his pupils dilated and his lips pulled apart.

God, you wanted to kiss him.

So you pulled him close. Grabbed him by the collar, and slid yourself into his lap until Rintaro was forced to scoot backwards to balance you both, his large hands coming to rest on your hips. You breathed hard, shaking your head at yourself before your forehead knocked with his.

“Rin… Your Highness,” you corrected, rasping out the words. “I’m sorry. I know it’s wrong, and I know I could never have your heart but could you just – could you please hold me? Just for a minute, please. Pretend that you’re in love with me, I just–” your breath hitched when he squeezed your hips, to stop you or encourage you, you couldn’t tell. “–I just want to feel it again. That happiness I had with you.”

Rintaro hitched you up higher on his lap. Your chest crashed with his, and his lips followed. He tasted of blood and sugary biscuits. His taste, and his scent, flooded your senses until there was nothing to perceive but him.

And the kiss? It isn’t gentle. It isn’t soft. It’s desperate – lips bruising lips, teeth knocking with teeth, and tongues passionately grasping at one another. Your hands fly everywhere after that. Tugging at his hair, grabbing him harder by the collar to deepen the kiss. He swallows every sound you make, breathes them in like he needs them to live. So you give all you can and moan out his name – not Your Highness – and revel in the way he keens. He melts like snowflakes in the heat of your palm, like your touch burns him. You’re seconds away from dragging him back up on the bed when Rintaro suddenly shoves you off him. He flings himself upright and crosses the other side of the room in quick strides, the quick rise and fall of his back facing you the only thing visible from the dimly-lit room.

He didn’t need to say it out loud.

He’d regretted that kiss. Your heart broke once more as you sat at the edge of your bed. His rejection stung, even more so when he wiped his lips with the back of his hand. Rintaro was shivering now as his head knocked against the window. Each breath he took seemed labored, as if even the act of drawing air was a struggle against the overwhelming sorrow that enveloped him. The air around him felt dense with the gravity of his internal torment, and your heart sank as you finally voiced out what he could never say out loud –

“…You really don’t love me.”

The silence falling over the room wrapped around the space like a heavy, suffocating shroud. the absence of sound was deafening. It pressed in on the walls and made each breath feel louder. Every creak of the floorboards or distant murmur from the outside was amplified, heavily echoed in the thick air. And when Rintaro finally spoke, it came with a tone of finality and unconcealed regret.

“I’m sorry.”

You swallowed, blinking back the tears as you fixed your appearance. “Pardon me for a moment,” you began to exit the room, your hands hovering on the handle before you you’re your decision. “Your Highness… is it okay if I stay here at my parents? It’s just for a few days. I don’t think I can handle returning to the Palace anytime soon.”

“Of course. Take all the time you need.” Rintaro did one final sweep of your room with his eyes. Something unreadable passed over his face. In the next moment, he cleared his throat, and opened the door himself. “I should leave. Goodnight, Princess. Please tell your parents that I left already, and I truly am sorry for the mess I caused.”

Rintaro was gone before you could say anything.

Just before his back disappeared from your line of sight, you saw something you thought you would never witness – Rintaro took two steps at a time on his way down, his frown pronounced as he wiped the tears off his face.

It unfolds like a badly written tragedy.

One moment, Rintaro is standing in the confines of your room, his heart racing with a desperate urgency that pulsed through every fiber of his being. He’d wanted to keep kissing you. Pulling away, and resisting his desire had to be one of the greatest pains he’d experienced, but he had to. He couldn’t keep doing this to you. His conscience wouldn’t let him.

That’s why he had to resort to doing the only thing he could think of in that moment – to run away and leave you behind.

Storming through the stately halls and out the grand doors of your estate, Rintaro pushed through. The weight of his regrets made each step harder to take, a burden that dragged him toward the waiting car parked outside the chill beginning to settle.

He jumped into the vehicle, ignoring his driver’s confused queries before slamming the door shut behind him. Inside, the car felt like a confining cell, its leather seats and polished surface now an inescapable prison of his own making. His hands, trembling with a mix of frustration and despair, gripped the steering wheel with a white-knuckled intensity.

In a sudden, raw burst of emotion, his fist struck the steering wheel with a deafening thud. The impact reverberated through the car and sent a shiver down his spine.

Still, he kept going – each strike of his fist minimal in comparison to his anguish. He reveled in it, the sharp pain in his knuckles a fleeting distraction from the deeper, more consuming agony that began to eat away at him.

His breaths came in ragged gasps, each inhalation a struggle. The air inside the car felt stifling, thick with the heavy scent of leather and the acrid tang of the remnants of blood at his face. His tears began to flow uncontrollably, streaming down his face and mingling with the sweat that dampened his brow. In the suffocating silence, his mind raced through a myriad of memories – from when he’d first kissed you, when he first held your hand, and the tender embraces he held you in. Each memory served to remind him of what he had now – nothing but a fractured connection, a strained marriage, and your fragile heart which he couldn’t protect.

Each image passing through his mind were tinged with bitterness. He recalled the warmth of your presence, the way your smile could light up the room, and the feeling of your hand in his.

He wished he could take it all back – to start from the beginning, to re-introduce himself to who he truly was. But he couldn’t. He knew he couldn’t. It was too late.

He’d gotten Iris pregnant.

Rintaro hadn’t mean to. Sure, he was careless and never used protection, but he thought little of it. Iris’ cycles were irregular and they never worried if she missed her period. She was always on the pill – all because of him, since Kiyoomi wouldn’t have touched her anyway. In another lifetime, Rintaro might’ve felt happy. Instead, he was filled with crushing dread. He couldn’t be a father, he didn’t want to be like his father.

And why hadn’t she told him? All this time… he foolishly thought she’d began ignoring him because it was a mutual, unspoken feeling that they’d just gotten tired. He never handled the media’s criticism well, and Iris wasn’t any better. She cared about her image and reputation more than anything – so why hide this from him? If he had known sooner…

What? his mind taunted, What would you do if you knew sooner?

Rintaro’s head dropped to the steering wheel. The voice in his head was right. He wouldn’t have done anything. Had he known four months ago, he would’ve celebrated. Had he known two months ago, he would’ve been upset, but choose to take responsibility in the end. But now? Now his decision was clear. Without giving it a second thought, Rintaro pulled out of your driveway and headed straight for the palace, dialing Iris on his way.

She picked up on the third ring.

“So it’s true,” he spoke to the phone, driving past the other cars on the highway in full speed. He should drive more carefully, but his blood was pumping loud in his veins – your touch lit a fire in him, and he needed that fire stoked. “You’re pregnant.”

A pause came from the other line. “How did you know?”

Rintaro gripped the steering wheel tighter, glaring at the phone even if she couldn’t see. “You’re heartless, Iris. How could you let my wife find out about it first before I did? Why did she have to tell me?”

“She told you – what? I never planned on letting you know about it, Rintaro. I don’t even know how she found out!”

“What, you were going to use that baby against me? Is that what you planned?” he growled at her, “You’re not keeping that damned baby – you’re getting rid of it right now. I’m not letting you fuck up my marriage.”

“I wasn’t going to keep it anyway! You’re absolutely insane if you think I’m planning to give birth to your filthy child–”

“Shut up!”

Rintaro ended the call. He’d had enough of her and her greediness. How dare she keep something like that from him, aborting his child before he even knew of its existence?

He stepped harder on the gas.

The engine roared in defiant response to his intense, almost reckless driving, its powerful growl a stark contrast to the stifling silence that enveloped the car. The air inside the car was thick with the acrid scent of tension and frustration, each breath he took feeling heavier and more labored as he fought to keep his rage contained.

His thoughts raced with the echoes of the argument, each harsh word and biting remark replaying in his mind like a relentless loop. The sting of her anger gnawed at him, fueling the fire of his own resentment. The images of her face, twisted in frustration, seemed to haunt the darkened windows of the car. Iris seemed to do that often – haunting him both in his dreams and a nightmare.

Rintaro couldn’t fathom why it was too late when he realized she’d never been a good person to begin with.

She was never his friend.

She only approached him because Rintaro was malleable. He was a blank canvas of a man, a lost Prince. He was nothing but an experimental toy for her. She’d kissed him, stolen his heart, and fed him lies that she’d give him what he wanted if he did what she liked. And he did – every fucking time. He drunk himself wasted, because Iris didn’t like drinking alone. He smoked packs of cigarettes for her even when he hated the taste of nicotine, because Iris got antsy without smoking. He fucked her hard and deep, and spent countless nights in her bed, because her husband never wanted to touch her. And what did he get in return?

Fake smiles. Sarcastic, mocking comments. A dry reply from his enthusiastic texts. A quick, good fuck if they were bored enough.

Iris never wanted him. She only ever wanted one thing: security. And when she was married to a Prince, and had another wrapped around her finger? She could do no wrong in the eyes of the throne.

As he drove, the powerful beams of the headlights cast fleeting shadows across the road.

The palace loomed ahead, its silhouette a distant promise of refuge that seemed increasingly out of reach. The anger that coursed through him was a force unto itself, a seething urge that refused to be quelled.

As he approached the grand gates of the palace, his emotions were spilling all over the place. He only had one place in mind: Belleview Manor.

Rounding a corner in the dimly lit hallway of the palace, Rintaro came to an abrupt halt. The reaction of his body was instantaneous: his breath caught in his throat, his muscles locking into place. Before him stood the Queen, her regal presence magnified by the soft, flickering light of the sconces lining the walls. Her silhouette, framed by the rich, opulent draped and the gleaming marble floors, seemed almost otherworldly.

She stood there, unmoving, like she’d somehow known he would be coming any minute now.

Rintaro’s head pounded in his chest. Cold dread washed over him, an icy hand clutching at his insides. The Queen’s serene yet inscrutable expression was nothing but an act, that he knew. In reality, her expressions were alien and foreboding. Her eyes, deceptively warm and reassuring, stared back at him like dark abysses, their depth hinting at the hidden complexities and secrets Rintaro had never cared to consider before.

He felt as if the ground beneath him had shifted, his already unstable world rocked by the revelation of a hidden side to his mother that he never perceived.

He stood frozen, a tangible sense of fear and anger enveloping him as he confronted the unsettling truth: the queen, his mother, was a mystery he had never fully unraveled.

The secrets she harbored, once a vague notion in the back of his mind, now loomed large and menacing, casting a long shadow over his perception of her. The fear that gripped him was profound and disorienting, a jarring contrast to the reverence he had always felt. His whole life, he’d only wanted one thing – to please his mother, to make her proud, to be a Queen’s son worthy of becoming the next King. His whole life he’d only done what he was told.

But in that moment, he was consumed by the chilling realization that the mother he had known and loved was a stranger, and the weight of her concealed truths left him trembling with a profound, unsettling fear.

“You,” he breathed out, his fear now overtaken by his sight going red. He felt mocked, humiliated, used. “Why did you never tell me?”

The memory of that night on the beach was seared into his mind.

He could never forget it – Iris’ sneer, the way her lips curled in contempt, as though he were something beneath her. Her words had cut deep, bleeding into his every being until the truth pounded at his veins. She had looked at him with disdain, her eyes cold and unfeeling, as she spat out how she’d never wanted to be with him, how she’d used him to cure her loneliness. A rejection born from a sick, twisted confession.

And now that he’d fulfilled his purpose in the bleakness of her world, he was nothing more than a disposable distraction. She’d called him worthless, a joke, someone unworthy of her attention – a prince in name but never in her eyes. The wind had whipped around him, cloaked around him like a glacial storm, but it was her biting words that had left him feeling exposed and small.

She’d delivered a stab to his heart that no amount of time could erase.

I never wanted to be with someone like you in the first place.

Didn’t you know, Rin?

You were never the King’s son.

#suna x reader #suna x you #suna rintaro x reader #haikyuu x reader #suna rintaro angst #suna x reader angst #haikyuu angst #kiyoomi x reader #kiyoomi x reader angst #kiyoomi sakusa x reader #sakusa x reader #sakusa kiyoomi x reader #suna rintaro x you #kiyoomi x you #haikyuu x reader angst

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rottencherrypie · 4 months ago

Text

R-18+; To Love is To Change (King!Fili x Wife!Reader)

Summary - King Fili, first of his name, has ruled over Erebor for several winters now. Many changes have taken place throughout his reign, the mountain kingdom now flourishing as it had once before, however, the new king never planned for how much he would change alongside the kingdom. Now, the dwarven king is left to ponder what these changes means for himself and his wife. Will she love him as she once did? Or will she loathe these changes?

Warnings - Smut, language, fem!Reader, afab reader, wife!Reader, King Fili AU, everyone lives AU, implied Kili x Tauriel, hinted at Thorin x Bilbo, mentions of weight gain (Fili), slight body image issues (Fili), clothes fitting improperly (Fili), mentions of male genitalia (Fili), implied previous sex, slightly implied past dom!Fili, thick!Fili (I love thick Fili), slightly dom!Fili, size kink, mention of stress eating (Fili, my man needs a break), brief miscommunication, bad anatomy (I tried), oral sex (reader receiving), fingering (reader), vaginal sex, mention of female genitalia (reader), mention of bodily fluids (both Fili and reader), unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), reader squirts, creampie, breeding kink, breeding press, slightly rough!Fili, rough-ish sex, dirty talk (Fili really loves talking to the reader's cunt), slight pain kink (if you squint, maybe), reader calls Fili "my king", Fili calls reader "my queen", some badly used dwarvish (I tried), dwarvish strength (you're telling me they can haul those huge ass statues and not you? lies), Fili just really loves his wife.

Pronouns & POV - She/Her, third-person

Word Count - 6,800+ (I got way too into this)

A/N - This was meant to be a blurb...and somehow I ended up with this long smut with some slight plot, wooo! My bedframe broke while I was in the middle of writing this, so it was delayed for a few days while I got a new bedframe (Fili's dick is so good it breaks bedframes in other realities). You can slightly tell when I started getting writers block, but I pushed through and I hope that this turned out okay. There are a few translations that will put below for reference. Smut below.

Translations - ibinê (my gem), halwûn (sweet one)

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«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

A few winters had passed since the golden-haired dwarf had taken the throne of Erebor. The old king, Thorin, had ruled justly for ten winters before he made the difficult decision to depart from the throne, allowing his heir, Prince Fili, to succeed him.

The shift from old king to new was swift, happening within a matter of weeks rather than the typical months it would take. The coronation went with little argument, though the air was bittersweet as the old king placed his crown upon the new's head. His forehead softly pressed against the new's as the new rose to his feet, a soft smile on the old king's lips as he patted the now king's back. "May your reign be long and just." The old king whispered to his nephew, pulling away as he squeezed his shoulder as many rejoiced for the new king.

The old king did not linger within the lands of Erebor for long, as shortly after King Fili was crowned, Thorin departed from the Misty Mountains—deciding to take up an offer that a familiar hobbit had once offered to him a decade ago, so, he headed west.

With the old king gone, King Fili ruled with a firm grasp. The new king was not unfair, no, he was just in his actions. All he did was for the people, ensuring that they did not go without, yet kept a tight enough grasp on what they received to ensure that greed would not roam rampant within the hearts of the mountains once again. However, there was only so much that could be done to prevent greed from tainting the hearts of dwarves and men.

Throughout the new king's reign, the lands of the Misty Mountains continued to flourish under his guidance. Following in the steps of his uncle, he continued to lead the people of Erebor back to the state it once was before the destruction of Smaug the Terrible. Although the change of Erebor had been a smooth and welcomed one; there was a change the golden-haired king had not accounted for—the changing of himself.

The new king was aware that his mind would mature throughout his rule, that he would no longer have the time, nor the desire, to pull the parks that he had once done years prior with his younger brother—who somehow still managed to find the time to pull such foolish jests despite being a new father to a dwelfing. Yet, he was not prepared for the changes that had taken place within his physical form.

It was not as if the new king had been keeping up with his health nor his appearance, he rarely had time to get proper sleep these days let alone having the luxury of spending a few moments grooming himself before a mirror. However, he had not felt the change until this week.

As he sat upon the firm, wooden chair before the long oak desk that held various parchments, he could not help but notice how much softer his once-toned body felt. The fat upon his stomach folded slightly, creating rolls that spilled over the top of his trousers and left impressions of said fat within his tunic. The sensation made the dwarf pause as he shifted in his seat, not out of discomfort, but rather confusion.

It was not a surprise that the new king's body had changed, becoming softer with the time he had spent apart from the training grounds he once frequented as he now spent his days behind the old wooden desk to handle various scrolls. Scrolls which left him tense with stress, feeling as if there would never be an end to the massive mountain of parchments that towered in front of him, seeming to grow larger as the days passed.

Though the new king would love to take a few moments to go back to the training grounds, to slap around a training dummy or tussle with a fellow warrior once more, he rarely had the time to do anything other than handling his kingly duties. Even eating at the same table as his wife was a luxury these days.

He would shovel down whatever meal was placed upon his desk, requesting an even larger portion whenever a particularly headache-inducing scroll fell into his grasp.

However, it did not fully down upon the new king how much he had changed until this morrow. He stood in his private chambers, struggling to slide his trousers past his rounded arse. He shimmied, shook, and even jumped slightly as he attempted to tug the fabric above his plump flesh but to no avail.

His thick, golden brows furrowed as he looked down at his trousers, wondering if these trousers truly were the size his tailors claimed they were or if his arse had truly ballooned so quickly within a month's time.

After another tugged attempt to pull the trousers up, he let out a low sigh. He let the fabric fall onto the cold, stone floor with a swish. The soft pat of his bare feet echoed throughout the room as he approached the full-length mirror before his bed; a mirror crafted specifically for his wife. His wife adored fashion, it was a fact all within the Misty Mountains knew well as she was never seen in the same gown twice without a new embellishment or accessory to adorn it. It was what had first drawn the dwarf to her, her sense of dress had caught his eye and left him intrigued to know more of her.

Fili adored watching her try the newest styles or even gowns she crafted herself, loving how her face would light up in the reflection as she tried various clothes on. The full-length mirror allowed them to view the designs in all their glory before he turned the once lovely clothes into a pile of shredded cloth on the floor.

But instead of the reflection of your beaming face staring back at him, the mirror greeted him with the parallel of his aged face. His once bright, sapphire eyes were now dimmed with tiredness. A purple-ish hue tinted the flesh under his eyes, a mark from the various nights he had spent awake dealing with the nonsense from other kings, rather than in the warmed embrace of his wife. The skin of his face had been carved with new lines and wrinkles, most resting upon his forehead from the weight of his brow which was furrowed more often than not these days, typically in confusion or annoyance over the written words of others.

The blonde hue of his beard was now streaked with white, as was the golden mane upon his head which had grown rather untamed in style and length—as was the long hair that grew from his upper lip and chin.

His gaze slowly shifted away from the reflection of his face, drifting down to examine his limbs. The muscles of his body had been sheathed beneath a layer of fat, creating a fuller, more rounded appearance. They had not completely vanished, the muscles constricted and bulged as he flexed in front of the reflective piece of glass. His chest appeared softer, though the muscles still rested behind the layer of fat, it seemed more softly crafted than how chiseled it had once appeared—the perfect spot for his beloved wife to rest her head. He paused for a moment to admire how much thicker and fuller his arms grew. The weight of his arms had become a tad heavier than before, but that was all the much better to keep his wife pinned down with.

However, where the roundness affected his figure most was in his middle, his stomach.

Though the dwarf had never had a completely flattened stomach, it now protruded more outwards than before. The curve within his figure made his head tilt to the side as he examined his abdomen, placing his calloused hands upon the roundness as he wondered when his belly began to mirror his father's.

The line his gaze followed began to drift even lower, trailing down the path of hair that led to his manhood. The hair was overgrown, an endless bush of blonde which swarmed around the base of his cock—how long had it been since he had last groomed himself properly? It was not as if he was lacking entirely, he ensured to bathe himself and dawn new clothes each day regardless of how exhausted he was as that was expected of him as king. However, the new king would admit that he had neglected the trimming aspect of grooming since he had taken the throne.

His gaze continued to trail down from the curled sea of blonde, drifting down onto his cock. It was hard to miss how the gain of weight had caused the girth of his cock to increase. It appeared thicker, fatter than normal—his cock twitched slightly as his mind wandered for a brief moment, thinking of the new ways his fattened cock would stretch his wife and how snug of an embrace her cunt would give him.

The hue of his eyes darkened in lust as he took in a deep breath from his nose, calming himself for a moment before his gaze continued to wander down to his legs. His thighs had grown much thicker—an ample tool for his beloved wife to claw at as he pounded into her. And his calves had grown a bit larger, though to dwarves this was not something too worthy of note. The size of a dwarf's calves are arguably far more sizeable than that of men and elves, which always made it a pain for the golden-haired dwarf to find new trousers upon his previous journey.

As his gaze continued to bore into the mirrored image of his body, he could not deny the changes before him. And for the first time in a long time, the heat of doubt began to spread from the center of his sturdy chest.

The new king's mind wandered, wondering what his wife's opinion of his changed figure would be. Would she love these changes? Or perhaps, would she yearn for his old figure? His thick, golden brows furrowed at the thought as the wrinkles on his forehead deepened.

Within his heart, he knew these thoughts were foolish and held no true weight, yet the voice of insecurity was loud. A voice which boomed deep within him, shouting lies to him of how his wife would find him repulsive as he was no longer the dwarf she had once wed. A flood of insecurities came rushing back to him, a flood he hadn't felt since the first time he locked eyes with his wife as if her presence alone was enough to build the dam that halted the flow.

Before the rushing stream of insecurity could pull the new king into its depths, the sudden soft pressure of warm hands met his chest, jolting him back to reality.

"Good morning, handsome." The purr of your sleep-ridden voice made the tension within his muscles ease, as the sharpness his gaze once held softened the moment he caught a glimpse of your peaceful, still sleepy, face reflecting at him in the mirror.

"Ah, ibinê," He breathed, a calloused hand moved up from the roundness of his belly and pressed against yours, covering both of yours with ease as they sat upon his chest. "did I wake you? I should've blown out the candle as I dressed." The slow spiral of regret came to a halt as the beautiful melody of your laughter danced throughout the air, your chest vibrating against his back in amusement at his worry.

"Please, I should be thanking you." You spoke, as the weight of your chin rested upon his sturdy shoulder for a moment before it turned slightly, facing the crook of his neck as you softly pressed your plump lips against it. A shiver roamed down the king's spine at the sensation, one he had almost forgotten, yet his body did not—the flow of blood began to shift paths within the dwarf, fixating on the trail of his cock as it hardened slightly from the soft caress of your lips.

"It has been far too long since we have been up at the same hour. And I must admit, I was enjoying the view I awoke to." The words escaped your lips in a purr as one of your hands managed to slip out from his calloused grasp, the free hand now sliding down to his stomach, slipping even lower—nearing the pelvis, the tips of your fingers lightly grazing the roughness of the curled, golden bush—before it began the slow glide back up. A pleased exhale escaped your nostrils, a gentle hum vibrating against the king's neck as your weight leaned into it.

"You were?" He questioned, the pitch of his voice rose ever-so-slightly as he spoke, something that had only happened a handful of times to him yet only arose when he was doubtful. "Yes." The word left your lips in a rush, as if it were the most obvious and natural thing in the world, both known and unknown.

"But, I uh..." The words stalled in his throat, his hesitation making them cling to his tongue before he forced them out. "I have changed." He spoke sheepishly, the volume of his voice no higher than a whisper as his gaze shifted away from yours, lowering to meet the sight of the stone floor beneath his feet. Feet which also appeared slightly wider due to the increase of his mass—perhaps that is why his feet ached so much these days.

"So?" You questioned, a brow rose at his statement as your free hand continued its ministrations upon his figure. "As have I, Fili. I no longer hold the same figure as the woman you first met, nor do I hold the same figure I had a month prior, but does that mean you love me less?"

The question quickly made the dwarf's head jerk up, the weight of his body shifting as he turned to you. "No." He answered quickly, the warmth of his hand left yours before it found its way to the side of your face. Encasing it with ease as he gazed upon you as if you were the most precious jewel within his collection.

"I think you are the most beautiful woman to walk the earth, ibinê," The words were tender, spoken in a hushed tone as if they were the most important thing to be uttered. "you are like a goddess to me, fuck, you are my goddess, Y/N." He spoke, the gaze his eyes held shifted from self-hatred into one of pure, undevoted love as he continued to gaze upon your face. One that had experienced equal change since his reign. "I am the mere dwarf who is allowed to worship you, the one you have foolishly honored with the title of husband." He continued, the corners of his lips lifting into a smile as he felt the weight of your head shift slightly, turning inwards to place a kiss upon the calloused skin of his palm.

"Then, listen to me when I tell you that my love for you has never wavered," The gaze of your eyes met his as the softness of your hand departed from his chest, swiftly making its way to rest upon the one that cradled the side of your face so tenderly—the other still roamed the front of his figure freely. "not once. It has only grown for you, my king." The assurance of your words lifted a weight off the king's shoulders, one he had not realized he had been carrying all this time.

"But, there have been whispers of your displeasure." His voice was soft, lingering with doubt as the heat within his chest refused to be extinguished. A stubborn flame you had dealt with many times as well. "Displeasure towards the toll these foolish papers have been taking on you, halwûn." The tenderness in your tone acted like water drenching a raging fire, finally snuffing out the remaining doubt within the dwarf.

"Oh." The word left his lips in a relieved breath, his shoulder drooped as his gaze continued to soften. "I, uh, I had not considered that..." His words trailed off, a soft heat flooding beneath the flesh of his cheeks to the tips of his ears as a soft chuckle rumbled from the center of his chest.

"I see that." A soft laugh escaped your lips as your hand continued to freely roam his figure, now moving in slow circles as it slowly drifted lower, no longer rising back to his chest. "And, I see that you haven't considered that I enjoy this change." Your words made Fili freeze as if a bucket of ice water had been thrown upon him. His eyes widened, almost in a comical manner, as the gears that had been worn down from prior nonsense slowly began to turn within his head.

"You like this?" He questioned, a thick brow raised as his gaze bore into you, seeking out any sign of deception or trickery yet he found nothing, "Like? Fili, I find it incredibly arousing." The purr vibrated against his palm as you pressed another kiss into it, furthering the heat that burned within his cheeks as this new information slowly sunk in for the once insecure dwarf.

"Oh." The word left his lips in a husky breath, a mixture of relief and desire dancing within the singular word as the blood within his body continued to shift route—following the trail to his cock, which rose to life as much as it could, yet it still drooped slightly due to the weight of it. A new, delicious weight.

"You know, I have no meeting scheduled until noon." He spoke, slowly closing the distance between the two of you. The light within his sapphire eyes returned, sparkling with glints of lust as the heat of his aroused breath grazed against the exposed skin that peeked out from your sleeping gown. The corners of your plump lips rose into a grin, a similar sparkle catching within your own gemstone-colored eyes as your gaze met that of your dwarvish husband's. "Then allow me to aid you in passing the time." You purred, the heat of your hand left his body before it met your other around his hand, tugging at it slightly as you led him back to the large bed. A bed that had not been defiled in quite some time.

──────

Little time was wasted between the moment your plump rump sat upon the silken sheets and the moment that the dwarven king tore open the front of your sleep gown—the cold winter air nipping at your exposed flesh, causing the buds of your nipples to harden beneath its chilled caress. The dwarven king eagerly tossed aside the shredded cloth before he knelt on his knees before you, positioning himself between the soft embrace of your thighs. His calloused hands tugged you closer to the edge of the bed, half of your arse hanging over it as he hoisted up your legs onto his shoulders.

"Gods..." The word left his lips in a hungry, almost breathless, tone as his sapphire gaze bore into your cunt. The corners of his mouth dampened with drool as the light within his eyes dimmed, a look of pure lust spreading upon his face as he looked at the heavenly flesh he was about to feast upon. "It's a shame we've been kept apart, isn't it, princess?" He practically cooed, though you knew it wasn't you he was asking. It was your cunt.

The dwarven king adored speaking to your cunt, talking to it as if it could answer him—which he often insisted it could, either through the fluttering of inner walls or the squelching of pleasure as he fucked it.

"Look at you, drooling all pretty for me." The king continued to coo to the dripping hole. The rough caress of his calloused fingers lightly grazing up and down your dampened folds caused your body to jerk back a bit, sensitive to the sensation after so long without it. "Shh, shh. Stay right there." A calloused hand tightened around the flesh of your hips, tugging you closer to your face allowing your feet to dangle onto his back.

"Fili—" Before you could utter anything other than his name, he delved between your legs. The prickle of his beard caressed your inner thighs, as the caress of his warm, wet tongue began to lap up the entirety of your cunt. A gasped-out moan fell from your lips, your back arching slightly as if attempting to sink your cunt further into your mouth, yet he kept his grasp upon your hip firm.

"Shh, don't interrupt, ibinê." His words vibrated against your sensitive flesh, pausing for a moment as he slowly lapped up your cunt from the dripping entrance to your sensitive bundle of nerves. "I am having a conversation here." The words were light, twinging with playful scolding as he returned to slowly lapping up your wetness. His tongue delved into your folds, seeking out your heavenly juices like a thirsting man seeking water.

"She can be so rude, can't she?" He cooed to your cunt, the tips of his calloused fingers slowly traced the entrance of your leaking cunt. It clenched around air, allowing more of that oh-so-sweet nectar to trickle out. "So rude." He continued to coo, his thin lips now turned down in a sympathetic pout as the tips of his fingers continued to trace the dripping hole.

Your gemstone-colored eyes looped around their sockets at Fili's dramatics as your patience began to wane thin. "Fili." His name left your lips in a warning tone, showing if he did not stop now then sex was off the table—and all other surfaces.

The heat of his breath caressed your sensitive flesh as his chest rumbled with a deep chuckle. The soft scratch of his beard sliding up and down tickled against your inner thighs as he nodded his head.

"As you wish, my queen." He spoke, or rather purred, as your dripping hole was swiftly filled with the deep stretch of his thickened fingers. Your inner walls parted around the thickness, adjusting to the new mass as if it was the first time they had explored your depths, yet having a familiar stretch you had been yearning for all those nights you had spent doing his husbandly duties.

A pleased sigh fell from your lips, the weight of your legs sunk further onto his sturdy shoulders as you sunk into the motions of his fingers. The thrust started slow, allowing your cunt to adjust to its thickness as they slid in and out with a small squelch as they curled inside of you on occasion. The dwarf fixated on each small movement you made as he curved his fingers at different angles, rediscovering your sweet spots as he pressed soft kisses against the outer flesh of the lips between your thighs. The coldness of his braid clasps caused a shiver to roam down your spine.

"Mmm, she looks so pretty, ibinê." The words were more of a growled vibration against the outer left side of your cunt, his eyes glazed over with lust as he watched his fingers slide in and out of your soaked cunt. Watching the way the tightened hole stretched around the thickness of his calloused fingers, swallowing them whole before spitting them back out with a gasp, drenched with those delicious juices he loved so. "Gods, what a good girl. Coating my fingers like the good little slutty pussy she is." He continued, the stretch of his fingers slowly pushed back inside, pushing apart your walls further as they curled up into one of your sweet spots making your heels dig into his back slightly.

"Gods...Fili..." The words escaped your parted lips as the weight of your head fell back slightly, the bed creaking under the shift of weight as you leaned back onto your forearms, attempting to push your cunt further onto his fingers with little avail as his tight grasp kept you still. "I need more. I need you." You whined out, your hips swaying in little circles upon his palm the moment he sunk the entire length of his thick, girthy fingers inside. Yearning for them to move faster, to scrape against the most sensitive spots of your inner walls, yet they remained still.

"Oh?" A purred sound of amusement vibrated against your cunt as he pressed yet another kiss against the slicken skin. Another torturously loving taunt, a wordless reminder that he was in control. "You want me, do you, ibinê?" The squelch of his fingers slowly pulling back filled the room, soon followed by your pitiful whine as you attempted to sink yourself back onto the calloused length.

"Gods, yes." You groaned, the weight of your head falling back further as you stared up at the stone ceiling—briefly wondering if it had ever been cleaned. "Please, Fili, I need you. You are driving me mad." The heat of your breath danced above you in the cold air as you eagerly awaited for more.

However, the fullness within you soon departed. Your head snapped up as you leaned forward ever-so-slightly upon your elbows, a look of confusion spreading upon your face as your gaze shifted onto the dwarf between your thighs.

"Mmm, look at that." The king groaned in pleasure, his gaze fixated on his glistening finger—glistening with your juices. "She did such a good job, didn't she, ibinê?" He purred as he rose the fingers to his lips, the tip of his tongue peeking through as he gazed upon the wetness for a moment longer before he slid them into his eager mouth. A pleased growl rumbled from his chest as he sucked your juices off of his own hand, savoring the tang of you as the weight of his head pressed into the softness of your thigh.

Once he licked his fingers clean, the king began to shift in his spot, slowly rising from his knelt position on the floor—yet your legs remained upon his shoulders. A surprised squeak fell from your lips as the shift of position pulled you a bit further off the bed, your hands quickly darting to the mattress in the hopes of holding yourself steady, yet the dwarven king was quick to adjust your position.

He lifted you with ease, as he had aided in lifting far heavier things in his life, ensuring that your back was flat against the mattress as your ass hovered just near the edge. However, your legs remained upon his shoulders throughout it.

"I bet she'd look even prettier choking around my cock." The king purred, one of his hands slipped away from your figure, finding its way to the length of his fat cock. It circled around it, holding a firm grip around his thick base as he spat down upon it before he began to glide his calloused hands up and down the length. "Don't you think so, my queen?" His question was quickly met with the blur of your head bobbing in response, a hungered gaze in your eyes as you stared down at his glistening length.

You were entranced by the sight of his calloused hands gliding upon his thick, throbbing cock, watching as the cherry-colored tip leaked out white pearls of precum which mixed with the glistening layer of spit upon his length.

"Gods, yes." You breathed, your back arching at the sight—responding to it like a bitch in heat. "She'd look so pretty, Fili. So fucking pretty choking around it." The words left your lips in a whine as you watched as he continued to stroke himself—wishing it was your hands around his throbbing cock.

"Mmm, I'm glad we agree." The corners of his thin lips lifted in a smirk as he leaned down, resting his slicken length against your soaked folds. His hips slowly began to rock, the pulsating mushroom-shaped tip bumping against your clit with each rocking motion. "Tell me, should I feed her?" He purred, the heat of his breath tickling the nape of your neck as he leaned further into you—the bed creaking under the weight as his throbbing length pressed further against your sensitive folds. The extra pressure against your sensitive bundle of nerves made your toes curl as your cunt began to tingle.

"Yes! Gods, yes. She's so hungry, Fili." You whined as your hands clenched at the sheets beneath you. "Please, Fili, please feed my cunt. I can't take it anymore." A plea that was swiftly heard, the dwarven king shifted back allowing his hand to find his thickened cock once more. He slowly lowered it down to your dripping hole, the throbbing, angry head hovering a mere breath away from the entrance.

"As you wish, my queen." The fat, throbbing head slowly pushed into your entrance, splitting open your inner walls as it slowly delved inside of you. A shared gasp escaped both your and the king's lips as he sunk inside of you. "Fuck, ibinê" He groaned, the lids of his sapphire eyes fluttering shut for a moment as he melted at the sensation of your tightened embrace.

An embrace that had not changed since the last time he had fucked you, yet the girth of his cock had made the squeeze feel far more snug upon his aching, fat cock.

"Gods." The word escaped your lips in a breathless gasp as your back arched into the sensation. His throbbing cock filled you up entirely, stretching out your inner walls in the most heavenly of ways as he remained still upon you. Giving you a few moments to adjust before the bed began to squeak beneath the shifting of his hips.

His thrusts were slow and precise. The motions of his hips were fluid, like steady waves on a breezy summer day. He ensured to bottom in you each time, the bush that surrounded the base of his cock becoming damp from the sweet juices of your cunt, before he slowly backed out—allowing for only the throbbing tip of his cock to remain inside of you as he savored the clenching of your walls as they attempted to pull him back in before he slowly began to enter you fully again. Repeating the cycle for a few more thrusts before he gradually began to pick up the pace.

The harsh snap of his hips jutting against the plump flesh of your rear echoed throughout the room, a sound that appeared harsher in tone but not as harsh as it was in sensation. As the king found a steady rhythm within his hips, he began to lean further into you—pressing the new weight of his body deep into your cunt.

"Fuck." The king hissed in pleasure as his length continued to disappear within your drooling cunt—it choked upon his fattened length, feeling as if it were about to burst by the seams each time he pushed his weight further into you. "You're taking me so well, my queen. So fucking well." The heat of his breath tickled the crook of your neck as he leaned into you further, causing a yelp to escape from your plump lips as he buried his face into the nape of your neck. His hairy face grazed against your sensitive flesh, sending a shiver down your spine as his lips began to press a mixture of kisses and nips around the sensitive region.

As the dwarven king continued to plant love bites and hickeys upon your neck, the veil of pleasure lifted just enough for you to recognize the position you were in. Due to Fili leaning into you, your knees were now pressing back into your shoulders as your legs quivered in pleasure. Your arse now lifted slightly in the air as the king pounded down into you, hitting your most sensitive spots with ease as your sweet nectar overflowed from your cunt. A perfect position for breeding.

You knew that was what he desired, to fuck you till you were round with his seed. It was a position you would occasionally entertain, but it had never felt this good before.

Suddenly, the dwarven king shifted back slightly, giving you a false hope that he would ease up on the thrusts, yet it was a hope that was quickly put to rest as his calloused hand slid in between you. His calloused thumb was quick to connect with the sensitive bundle of nerves between your opened legs, causing your back to arch up further into the sensation.

You were pure putty in his hands. A mindless ragdoll for him to fuck senseless, to give endless pleasure to before he filled you with his seed. The squelching click of your pussy being stuffed with his fat cock echoed throughout the room, your cunt sobbing around the thick length as it continued to carve away inside your walls—after all, his people were known partially for their carvings.

His rough thumb pressed further against your clit, tracing circles upon the twitching bundle of nerves as his hips continued to jut sharply into you. Refusing to give your sopping pussy a moment of peace after spending so many apart from it.

Your hands clenched at the bedding beneath you, twisting the furs within your dampened grasp. The weight of your head sunk back into the softness beneath you, as your toes curled inward towards the balls of your feet causing the knuckles upon them to strain as did those in your hands.

"Fili, please—" Your pleads were cut off by another choked moan, a mixture of a curse and a cry of pleasure as your hips lifted slightly to meet his—yet they were quickly pressed back down as the king continued to thrust his weight into your cunt, filling it to the brim with each hard thrust. Your walls clenched and quivered around the throbbing length, a wordless warning that you were on the brink of release, but this only seemed to fuel the king.

"Shh, shh." The king's shushes vibrated against the sensitive flesh of your neck, causing your legs to tremble further upon his shoulders. "I'm right here, Y/N, let her cry on my cock. Let her tears soak it, eh?" His lips continued to press kisses against the soft flesh of your neck as his thumb danced upon your throbbing bundle of nerves, swirling quickened circles that matched the speed at which he fucked you.

The throbbing head of his cock continued to pound away at your most sensitive spot, beating away at the dam of pleasure until it finally burst open with a roaring gush as your sweet nectar flowed forth, coating your husband's length in a squirting gush. A slew of incoherent moans fell from your lips as the familiar tingle of pleasure roamed throughout your body. It felt as if you were weightless as if you were both within your body yet floating right above it—able to feel the heavenly pounding of your husband's animalistic thrusts, yet unable to feel the prickle of his bearded face against your neck.

As you slowly came down from the heights of your pleasure, the heavenly stinging prick of static made your body even more sensitive to the bitter nip of the chilled air, it shivered at its cold caress yet your body was coated with the glistening sheen of sweat from pleasure. The sensations within your body slowly returned, yet the heavenly tingle did not leave your veins as the king continued to thrust into you.

"That's it, my queen, drool on it." He purred, raising both his head and the hand which once caressed your aching clit to meet your face. His thick, calloused thumb gently wiping away the cascading stream of drool from the corner of your mouth. Your inner walls fluttered around his throbbing cock at the sweet gesture, a reminder of his undying love for you.

The pace at which his hips held began to stutter, becoming sloppier and more drawn out as your walls continued to clench and quiver around his fattened length. A sensation that encouraged him to continue his movements, despite the raging fire within his belly begging him to release. His face returned to the crook of your neck, desperately attempting to hold on for a few moments longer as he knew he would be unable to do so if he continued to gaze upon the heavenly sight of your pleasure-drunken face.

However, it was a fire he was unable to keep contained for longer than a few more thrusts, as the knot of pleasure within his core snapped, a low groan of pleasure vibrated against the crook of your neck as the white, hot ropes of his seed began to paint the inner walls of your womb. Seed your cunt accepted with much ease, drinking it down as if it were her favorite drink as your inner walls continued to milk him—seeking out every last drop from him.

"Fuck." The king breathed into your neck, his calloused hands encasing your forearms as he held you steady—knowing he would end up filling you again if you moved even slightly. "She's a hungry girl today, isn't she?" The words escaped his thin lips in a breathy chuckle as he found the strength to pull back ever so slightly, allowing his sapphire eyes to gaze upon his masterpiece.

Your gemstone-colored eyes were glazed over with pleasure, the lids drooped slightly as a trail of drool continued to drip forth from the corner of your lips. Lips that were parted, desperately sucking in any ounce of chilled air it could as your mind desperately clung to any sensation to keep you from slipping into the depths of pleasure.

"Look at you, ibinê, all fucked-out of it." The king cooed as he leaned back further, allowing your legs to stretch out as the bed creaked under the shift of his weight. He now stood near the edge of the bed with ever so quivering legs, his gaze shifting to your face and onto your cunt which continued to stretch around his fattened cock. His calloused hand gently caressed the side of your face, the roughness of his harsh skin against your smooth skin made your inner walls twitch ever-so-slightly.

"Are you okay, my love?" Fili asked, his voice dripping with love and affection—acting as if he had not fucked you senseless moments ago. "Was I too harsh? I didn't hurt you, did I?" The lust within his gaze eased, now filled with a look you could only describe as worried puppy eyes.

"Fili, I'm fine." The words left your lips in a breathless tone, your chest rising and falling at a slightly rapid speed as you attempted to catch your breath from all that had transpired. It had been months since he had last fucked you. "I just need a few moments. I fear I am no longer the young woman who could go round after round with you." You spoke, a statement which caused a deep chuckle to rumble within the dwarf's chest as he nodded his golden mane in agreement.

"And I am no longer the dwarf who could ravish you every second of every hour, but I will still try." Fili spoke, the corner of his thin lips curved into a smile as he leaned down carefully, pressing his thin lips against your plump ones in a gentle kiss.

A sensation that caused your heart to flutter against your ribs, a moment of tenderness within your world of uncertainty.

After a few moments, your lips came apart yet he still hovered above you. For a moment, you expected the rhythm of his hips to return, but it never did. Instead, the king leaned further into you until his head laid on the flesh of your bosom—the gentle tickle of his hairy face causing a shiver to roam down your spine, yet again, and the corner of your lips to be pulled into a smile.

Your fingers found themselves in his golden locks, softly raking through the sea of honey strands. The warm tickle of the king's pleased exhale warmed the chilled skin of your bosom, his head slightly burying into them as his hand dropped from the flesh of your face and landed upon your shoulder.

"Give me a few moments and we may start again, my queen." The golden-haired king whispered, the lids of his eyes threatening to flutter shut as he leaned into your warm embrace. "Take all the time you need, halwûn." You whispered as your fingers continued to roam through the softness of his mane, slowly lulling the stressed king into relaxation. A comforting change of pace amidst the typical stressors of his days.

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

#fili x reader #fili x reader smut #fili x fem!reader #fili x fem!reader smut #fili x y/n #fili x y/n smut #fili smut #fili x you #the hobbit smut #smut

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bunnillie · 5 months ago

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oh look who he found (should i open back asks with this style?)

#cookie run kingdom #cookie run #pure vanilla cookie #bittersweet lies au #purecacao au #au #shadow milk cookie #dark cacao cookie #purecacao #art #digital art #digital drawing #artist #artist on tumblr #digital artist #my art #my drawing #small artist

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bunkoos-mole-enthusiast · 4 months ago

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Weekly Jungkook Fanfic Recs

Some fine JK fics for your reading pleasure. 🔞 Please show your appreciation to all the wonderful authors:)

Golden Cufflinks: You’ve never given much thought to finding your true mate, firmly believing it’s something that will happen when it happens. But, when you do find him—thanks to a pair of golden cufflinks—it very well could ruin everything. They say not all’s fair in love and war; you just hadn’t expected your best friend’s wedding to be the battleground. https://colormepurplex2.tumblr.com/post/766335488954138624/golden-cufflinks-jjk Confined: Y/n didn't think testing out a new sex toy would cause so much havoc but no worries, her next-door neighbor Jungkook doesn't mind lending her a bit of assistance. https://www.tumblr.com/cravetive/742183386711539712/%F0%9D%97%96%F0%9D%97%A2%F0%9D%97%A1%F0%9D%97%99%F0%9D%97%9C%F0%9D%97%A1%F0%9D%97%98%F0%9D%97%97 Show Me Something: He was your first kiss years ago, only to become your first heartbreak the next day. Your life would have been much easier if only you would forget about him and move on, instead of having to see him almost every day because your best friend had fallen in love with his best friend. When your pal had suggested having a road trip for the final days of summer break before going back to campus, you said yes for a reprieve. Too bad she forgot to tell you about the two extra passengers tagging along. One of which is the boy that still has a tight hold of your heart without either of you even knowing it. https://archiveofourown.org/works/30396546 Slow Dancing: When your countdown appeared on your wrist right on the morning of your eighteenth birthday, you had thought that perhaps the universe was on your side, especially since the final seconds were already ticking so soon. You just never expected to have your first meeting with your soulmate to be the day when you had to let him go. But hope was not lost when you still found love without the bond, and Jungkook showed you that it was possible to find happiness beyond the system that was written for you. Except that the universe doesn’t seem to have enough of its game, when your past sacrifice comes back hitting you straight in the face, just when you had believed that you had written off the perfect ending to your bittersweet tale. https://archiveofourown.org/works/39615618 Call Me Mistress: "It has certainly been quite the party," you began, taking a stroll around the table to give his friends time to ogle you. "But I'm here for someone else on his special day.” The end of the riding crop snapped suggestively against your open palm and you felt excitement bloom around the large table. “Now, let me see if I can find out which of you is the birthday boy..." A long-term client hires the Mistress to help celebrate his best friend’s birthday. The festivities lead to new business. https://dark-muse-iris.tumblr.com/post/164844332231/call-me-mistress-ramen-m-part-1

Sillage: Soulmate!AU where soulmates are drawn to one another by the infliction of physical touch, whether it be pain or pleasure. But it is only initiated once the two people somewhat interact. https://www.tumblr.com/deerguk/144529213896/s-i-l-l-a-g-e-pt-one The Pink Pill: This pill is essentially a drug that enhances your libido to the max and you’ll quite literally never experience arousal like you do when you’ve taken this pill. Thankfully, in each universe, there’s a man that’s ready to help you explore and reach your peak of sexual euphoria. https://www.tumblr.com/dollfaceksj/723667191148462080/the-pink-pill-jjk-version-m-3-days Reminder: Whenever he flies back into town, your doorbell is the first he rings. When he has to fly out again, your bed is the last he lies in. However, you’re not stupid. You know your ex-boyfriend, that also happens to be an up-and-coming professional boxer, Jeon Jungkook, doesn’t come to you only. Unfortunately, you have no right to be jealous, not when you’re the one that ended the relationship. https://www.tumblr.com/dollfaceksj/721591770571554816/reminder-jjk-m-masterlist Stay: “Jungkook,” His name was merely a sigh flying out of your lungs and through your parted lips. “If we do this - if we go down this road - how do we go back?” https://eoieopda.tumblr.com/post/703940957854449664/stay-jjk

Losers: I get lonely when you're not here, and this darkness appears, leaving me stranded. https://www.tumblr.com/eternalguk/744420253674668032/losers-jjk-m

#bts jeon jungkook fanfic #jungkook fic recs #jungkook imagine #jungkook smut #jungkook fanfic #jungkook fic #bts jungkook #jungkook #jungkook x reader #jungkook x oc #jungkook x y/n #jungkook x you #bts fanfic #bts jungkook fanfic #bts fic recs #bts smut #bts imagines

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bunnillie · 1 year ago

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we finally came up with a prologue. Written by @arsonist-lol ! More coming soon :)

BITTERSWEET LIES

Prologue

The bright lights from the academia illuminated the halls as the two cookies walked in silence, comfortable silence wrapped around them as they both enjoyed what they had in the moment.

Years of friendship having gone by, having received their Soul Jams and new responsibilities as royals after founding their kingdoms. Enjoying a few drinks and having fun, exchanging a few stares as they smiled their cares away.

Investigating, searching for what they most wanted, for what they desired the most. Besides having lost his sight, he managed to protect what he loved the most. Enjoying their time in the wild and exploring the world and their souls together as much as they could.

With the ingredients on the table and their hearts on their sleeves, they created life. Love and life blooming like spring, sharing together what they thought would be their lives for the rest of their existence.

Interrupted by an attack, destruction and fear spreading across the land, bringing with it pain, suffering and chaos. Their happiness were completely banished, splitting them and their hearts as they tried to hold onto each other but were forced to separate by the sudden change of situations.

But after the storm, a rainbow could be seen, the birth of a new hero that would be one of the many to help recover the world from the ashes. Bringing light not only for the village, but to his mother who loved him the most.

“Mother! Mama!!” Pure Vanilla was shaken in his sleep

The teen shakes his mother and Pure Vanilla sits up, tears falling down the blonde's face as he pulled the young boy in his arms.

“I'm here mom.. it's okay.. did you have that dream again?”

No words could come out of his mouth, sealed shut as he tried to relax himself.

“... It's okay mama.. I'm here..”

“Thank you, my child..”

#bittersweet lies au #purecacao au #pure vanilla cookie #choco waffle cookie #cookie run kingdom au

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johnwickb1tsch · 3 days ago

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bittersweet + ch 51

a yandere!John Wick x fem!reader sunshine/grump coffee shop AU... all chapters

WARNINGS FOR THIS FIC: NSFW, SEXUAL CONTENT, VIOLENCE, YANDERE SH!T. Minors DNI. Plz take care. I luv u all. 😘

51. don’t cry for me, argentina

You are lucky that you have traveled enough that you practically arrange everything for your journey on autopilot, operating in a daze of excitement and dread, daring to hope yet beating yourself down at every turn.

This isn’t going to amount to anything.

You’re flying to the bottom of the world just to crush yourself again.

Yet in the grand scheme of things, an 11 hour flight seems like the least you can do, to indulge this mystery.

You’ll just go, and see. What’s the harm? Besides to your barely clinging last thread of sanity?

You’ve never had the luxury of planning a trip without a budget. There is something incredibly convenient about just being able to book whatever flights and hotel you want without giving a fuck for the price. The zeroes in your bank account are vast, and this is really the first time you’ve splurged with them.

The hardest part is arranging for the care of Dog with someone you trust. You know Winston would take him if you asked, but the Continental is not a kennel. You think there is some synergy in the Universe, when you recruit a girl from the coffee house who you befriended to housesit and watch your faithful pooch. Dog can tell that the energy of the house has changed as you pack, seeming both anxious and curious in that sage way canines have about them.

“I promise I’m coming back soon,” you tell him, kissing him on the snoot.

You hope you’re telling the truth.

***

You feel as though you are holding your breath for the entire plane ride.

You do not sleep, and when at last you land in Buenos Aires you feel as though you are walking amidst a fever dream, collecting your bags from the carousel on autopilot. A press of people await their loved ones outside security. There are smiling faces, laughter, embraces. You search the crowd, but no one is familiar.

No one is waiting there for you, and you are scared to admit you’d even entertained the slightest sliver of hope.

As though you’re afraid of jinxing yourself, you’ve hardly allowed yourself to consciously admit the purpose of your mission here. Certainly not aloud, and you didn’t even tell Winston where you were going, afraid he would talk you out of it.

The warmth from outside presses through the windows of the last atrium of the airport; you have to take off your coat or you will cook. Stray dogs nap politely in the shade by an unmanned counter. This is a different world than what you’re used to at home, and at last that old familiar energy greets you; the beginning of an adventure.

Anything could happen.

You get your second wind, and with new courage you walk out into the warm day to hail a taxi.

This beautiful city racing past the window seems like a fairyland out the corner of your eye, the bright purple jacaranda trees in full bloom dreamily painting the landscape. You see poverty and wealth existing side by side as you motor down the highway, and you think maybe it’s not so different from the other big cities you have known.

You chat politely but haltingly with your driver. Maybe he can tell that your reluctance to talk has less to do with your grasp of the language than your mind being elsewhere. He gives up halfway to your little hotel in Palermo; you hope he doesn’t think ill of you, and you give him a big tip in American Dollars, the coveted currency in this part of the world where the value of the peso dives on a whim. You packed lightly, but he still insists on carrying your bag into the lobby, and you thank him profusely.

***

Once you are settled in your room, you find you are reluctant to leave it again, and not because of jet lag. Out there lies a whole city to comb; out there you could find redemption–or the absolute devastation of one final disappointment.

In the end, you make yourself go. You didn’t come here to stare out your second-story window, as nice as the view of the tree-lined street is. Your first plan is to check out the travel agency that printed the flyer, which is now crumpled and folded from your repeated perusing of it. They’d seemed perplexed about it over the phone, but very eager to sell you a tour anyway.

It’s a modest little office within walking distance of your hotel, and you would have enjoyed the stroll down the shaded streets, if your heart wasn’t trying to escape from your chest, and your hands weren’t shaking from adrenaline. Posters line the windows advertising gaucho tours on horseback of the Pampas grasslands, epic views of the great Iguazú Falls, and the penguin colonies of the Peninsula Valdés.

All of these things sound interesting, but it’s not what you came for.

You go inside to find a young lady behind the counter. She is wearing a sleeveless pink shirt, showing off toned arms covered in tattoos. Her ears are studded from lobe to helix with silver. She looks intimidating, until her generous mouth parts in a smile. “How are you today? I’m Ava.”

You exchange pleasantries before you pull out your heavily-handled flyer, presenting it to her. “Does your company print these?”

She looks it over with a little frown. “That is our logo,” she says, tapping the paper. “But I’ve never seen this before. Where did you get it?”

“It was sent to my house, in New York?”

This puzzles her even further. “I’m sorry ma’am, we do not do print advertising in the United States? It would be too expensive.”

Of course it would.

You are strangely elated to hear this, a fluttering in your belly like waking butterflies. “I’m looking for a man,” you say. “He’s tall. Handsome. Dark eyes, dark hair.”

She lifts an eyebrow at you, her green eyes veritably sparkling, and you realize you’ve described a great deal of the male population of this country–and it sounds like you’re trying to solicit something untoward. “I have a photo!” you exclaim, your cheeks fiery with embarrassment.

You dig through your phone with trembling fingers until you find a good picture of John (that won’t make you blush even harder). “Have you seen him?”

She studies the photo. Then she studies it a little more, her lips twisting, and you can’t help it. Even with tears in your eyes, you burst out laughing, and she joins you a minute later. “I know, right?”

She covers her smile with her hand, handing you back the phone. “I’m sorry, but I have not seen him. I think I would remember, no?”

“Yeah. You probably would.” Your burst of elation is replaced just as quickly with disappointment as you tuck your phone back into your bag. It’s a dead end, then. Or at least…you’re left with more questions than answers. Someone made that brochure, used this agency’s logo and address, and sent it 5000 miles to your door.

If it wasn’t John, and he’s truly gone…then who? Was it a trap?

Don César was certain the Aragón cartel was all but finished that fateful night, and according to Winston the Camorra were all too glad to be rid of Dante. You know that John Wick had a list of enemies longer than his arm, but why the fuck would any of them care about you?

“Can I give you my hotel?” you ask. “Just in case, you could leave me a message?” You think that might be a little better than your cell number. Can’t you be tracked that way? Should you change your sim card? Should you get a burner phone?

You’re not a spy, and you really don’t know what to do, both wanting to be found, and fearing it.

“Sure,” she agrees. “How long will you be in Argentina?”

“A couple of weeks.” The answer is actually indefinitely, but you figure she doesn’t need to know that.

“I am leading a tour around the city sites tomorrow. It includes wine tasting and lunch at one of the best parrillas in Palermo. There are still openings if you might be interested?”

“How many people are in the group?”

“Right now, there are eight.”

You’d surely be safe in a group, wouldn’t you? You still can’t shake the feeling like you’re caught up in some kind of old school spy craft game, so you agree.

It can't hurt to get the lay of the land from a local, right? And maybe…she’ll take you somewhere you’re supposed to go?

What could go wrong.

***

It's strange pretending that you're a normal tourist, amidst the group of happy couples and young backpackers out to see the city. You make the obligatory smalltalk, though the whole time you are searching the faces of passersby, and the buildings around you, hoping for a clue.

As though she senses you might be a little fragile, or maybe because she feels sorry for you as the only loner in the group, Ava sticks close to you, and you enjoy getting to know her as she leads you all around this beautiful city like a line of lost ducklings in her stompy black boots.

By the end of the day you do feel like you have your bearings more. The tour’s big finale is a feast of various beef cuts grilled on a wood fired parrilla. The red wine flows, and the wooden interior of the restaurant is made extra cozy when it starts to rain, and the waitresses light candles to combat the gloom.

It would be a lovely place to dine with someone special–but even in your little group, you are alone.

By the time you make it back to your hotel room you are soaked, exhausted, a little drunk, and you fear no closer to solving your mystery. You’re not proud of it…but you curl up on your bed, and cry yourself to sleep.

***

You have a checklist of the places to go that were mentioned in the brochure. You visited some of them briefly the day before, or at least went past them. You start with the Gardens, because they’re nearby your hotel.

You don’t really know what you’re doing, of course.

You are operating on the slim hope that if that flyer was sent to you with purpose…he will come to you at one of these places. So you leave your itinerary with the front desk, just in case your “friend” comes looking for you. Maricella, the bespectacled older woman at reception, accepts this routine with poorly disguised annoyance in this day and age of handheld computers that masquerade as phones, but she cheers a little every time you leave her a generous tip.

Maybe it’s silly, but you’re finding your favorite part of having money is the freedom to spread it around.

Though you haven't used your account in ages, you consider leaving breadcrumbs on your Facebook too, just in case. But that little fear in the back of your mind wins out, that maybe this is some kind of trap, so you decide not to project your movements that openly.

At least, not yet.

You tell yourself that you’re not that desperate, yet, even if deep down that scratching feeling inside you only multiplies with every passing day that you do not find even the slightest clue of John. You search the faces in the crowd on the street, in the parks and museums and the fabulous restaurants, hoping. Truth be told, there is no shortage of lovely brown-eyed men in this city…but none of them are the right one.

You go to El Ateneo Grand Splendid, marveling at the multi-story bookstore staged in a resplendent old opera house. You peruse the stacks slowly, praying that you will look up and see a familiar face.

You tour the Japanese Garden, sitting on the bench when your feet hurt, looking around and thinking, John would love this place.

You wander the Plaza de Mayo, marveling at the grand buildings, the pink Casa Rosada where the president headquarters, and the pleasant paths and plantings around the towering white Pirámide de Mayo obelisk, marking the beginning of Argentina’s bid for independence from Spain.

You traipse through the museums of art and history, your attention only half engaged by the displays, even though MALBA contains one of the best collections of Latin American art under one roof. You do stop to give your attention to your old friend Frida. You remember the headlines when it sold for 33 million dollars not long ago, purchased by an Argentine businessman for the museum. It’s titled, “Diego y Yo,” one of Frida’s numerous self portraits, and you think, one of her more haunting. Her black hair frizzes free and wild across the canvas; her gaze daring. Diego Rivera’s likeness sits upon her forehead, her third eye, ever foremost in her thoughts.

The love of her life, and the source of her worst anguishes.

You think you understand this piece better than ever, now.

These excursions all end in disappointment, and the señora must see it all written on your face when you return to your hotel, exhausted inside and out.

“You should never pin your happiness on a man,” she tells you, not looking up from her book where she sits behind the reception desk. “It only ends in heartbreak.”

Are you that obvious?

With a sigh, you nod, agreeing with her. “But how do you go back, when you know you’ll never be happy without them again?” you ask, hoping for some gem of advice in your time of need.

“You have to stop lying to yourself, for one,” she answers frankly. “You don’t know what the future will bring.”

This makes you smile a little, even if her words don’t really help, at least at that very moment. “Gracias, señora,” you say, making to climb the stairs up to your room.

She huffs, as though she suspects you haven’t listened to her at all. “Sientate,” she orders you, pointing at a grouping of chairs in the courtyard connected to the lobby, then she disappears into the back.

Puzzled, you do as you’re told.

Your only other plans for the day were to sit in your room and cry, anyway.

Soon she re-emerges carrying two gourd cups with metal bombilla straws. You recognize the national drink, an herbal tea made of yerba-maté leaves. “You’ll feel better,” she says, setting it down in front of you.

“Thank you.”

You sit in silence for a while, waiting for it to cool. When she takes her first sip you do the same. It’s bitter, but not bad. An acquired taste, for sure.

She breaks the silence with, “My country knows a thing or two about loss.”

You nod, knowing it’s true.

“You have to let it go, niña, or it will eat you alive. And what is the point of living like a ghost? The decision is yours, in the end.”

“I’m not ready,” you admit sadly, staring down into your guampa.

“Well. You’d better get on with it. You seem like a nice girl.”

You look across the table at this woman who does not know you, and yet somehow it seems she can see into your soul. You’re not exactly a fan of tough love, (who is?), but it’s more than your own mother was able to give you over the phone not so long ago.

Are you still a nice girl? If she knew the things you did to survive one fateful night on a boat in the Caribbean, she might think otherwise.

You sigh, tracing the metal rim of your cup. You appreciate the consideration this stranger has paid you, but you know, deep down, you can't. “I’ll think about it,” you say, if just to be polite.

She pays you a look over her glasses that says she knows all too well, but she takes mercy on you with a slightly softened gimlet stare. “Sure you will.”

“Thank you for the maté.”

She waves you off with a smirk, like she knows you need to go crawl off into a hole and mope.

***

But you do think about what Maricella said, more than you actually want to.

Are you just going to stay miserable forever and ever?

You honestly don't know.

You do know that you’re running out of places to go, and you’re running out of hope.

You’re not exactly a religious person, but you find yourself wandering into the massive Catedral Metropolitana off the Plaza. Its neoclassical facade gives way to an opulent baroque interior, and its impossible not to feel an appropriate sense of awe. You walk around slowly, looking and thinking to yourself in the venerated quiet, the low murmurs of tourists and worshippers echoing through the cavernous space.

In truth Catholicism has always felt a little like witchcraft to you. If you say the right magic words enough you can win forgiveness, the answers to your prayers, and maybe even salvation. At a side altar you buy a candle, lighting it and placing it with a cluster of others.

You do not talk to God, per se…but you do talk to John. Whether it's healthy or not…he is the principal deity in your personal pantheon.

Wherever you are…I hope you’ve found peace. I love you. I’ll always love you.

When you leave, you can’t say it’s with a sense of closure or anything so helpful. But maybe, just maybe, a tiny bit of weight lifts off your shoulders.

Maybe it’s time you stop chasing ghosts and go home, to your Dog who loves you and needs you, to your life that’s been on hold. If John was here…he would have come to you. You find you are able to admit that to yourself, now. You’ve done your due diligence.

Maybe it's time to get back to the living. You find you are able to even think about giving yourself permission to do that now, in a way you just couldn’t, before.

When you get back to the hotel you buy your return ticket to New York.

***

It does occur to you, now that you’re finally starting to accept the idea that John is truly gone, that someone sent you that flyer to lure you here, and that’s probably not a good thing in your world. You’ve been careful, and somehow so far you’ve skated by unscathed, though a part of you starts to wonder if you’re being watched. It’s a tingling little feeling on the hairs of the back of your neck that you mostly chalk off to paranoia, as you walk down the street.

You decided you want to spend your last day in Buenos Aires at the epic Sunday street fair in San Telmo. It’s a neighborhood that dates back to the very beginnings of the city. Once the home of the first settlers, then the wealthy, then the wave of new immigrants from all over Europe at the end of the nineteenth century, now it is a bohemian enclave filled with markets and galleries and restaurants.

It’s the only place on the brochure where you haven’t yet been.

The stone cobbled streets are closed down for the feria. Market stalls line either side of the roads, and the crowd teems shoulder to shoulder. You marvel at the handmade goods on offer. Carved gourd maté cups and leather goods of all kinds, textiles and knickknacks and antiques. You didn’t think you wanted to shop so much as you just wanted to see it, but you find yourself infected by the energy of the crowd, and you are handing money over left and right for little things that tickle your fancy.

A booth with silver jewelry set with natural stones takes you for most of the rest of your pocket money. You pick out a necklace set with pink rhodochrosite, the national stone of Argentina, a malachite inlay cuff bracelet for your housesitter back home, and pair of filigree earrings with dangling garnets that remind you of pomegranate seeds. You wear them immediately with a poignant pang in your heart.

Tired and hungry after hours of wandering, you pick up a choripan sausage with bread and chimichurri sauce, and find a place to sit on the bench in the tree-shaded Plaza Dorrego. There are more booths here, and street performers as well. After you finish your late lunch you sit and watch a pair of dancers performing the Tango on a makeshift square of flooring set down for their stage. They’re beautiful, their movements sweeping and graceful yet so precise, full of the push and pull emotion that embodies the spirit of the mournfully romantic dance. She struts away, only to forcefully be pulled back again into his arms. Through twists and turns and dips and lifts, variations of the same struggle play out again and again.

You wonder if the partners dancing are in love. They certainly make it seem like they are, but maybe it’s all for show. You find yourself hoping for a cynical moment, for their sakes, that their passion is all a facade.

This thought sideswipes you. Are you going to turn into a bitter old woman now, cautioning youngsters against the dangers of love?

If you could go back, would you caution yourself to love John less?

You realize the answer is no. No matter how you feel now…all the anguish was worth the elation, even if you only possessed it for a fleeting moment in the grand scheme of things.

Just when you thought you’d managed to cry yourself dry, fat tears fill your eyes and you have to hide your face in your hands for a good long minute before you get ahold of yourself again. You’re quiet about it, but passersby are looking at you with worried expressions. You feel a supporting hand on your shoulder. Everyone is so sweet in this country. You’re going to miss it. “Estoy bien, todo bien, gracias, gracias,” you stammer with an apologetic smile, and they nod sympathetically, letting you be.

Deciding it’s time to go back to your hotel, you gather your things and take a long pull off your water bottle. You’re fine.

You’re going to be fine.

If you keep telling yourself that, maybe eventually it will be true.

You throw some money in the bowl for the dancers who ripped out your heart with the beauty of their performance, and make your exit.

Yet, as you pick your way through the crowd to a less packed street, hoping to find a taxi…it starts to become apparent that you are not fine. Your limbs feel heavy, and you lean against the side of a stucco building, struggling for a deep breath. As your vision goes blurry at the edges and the darkness trickles in, your last thought is: Motherfucker, not again.

TBC...

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-all chapters buenos aires photo collage II

#john wick #john wick x reader #john wick x you #john wick fic #keanu reeves #keanu reeves x reader #john wick x y/n #yandere john wick #bittersweet john wick imagine

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