#he's so scared of forgetting and getting manipulated into hurting his loved ones again | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

miirohs · 9 months ago

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sugarcoated [l.n]

pairing: Mob Boss!Baby Daddy!Lando Norris x Fem!Reader wc: 2.7k cw: violence (implied but not against the reader), emotional manipulation, reader is highkey tweaking, Norris is a touchy ass, slight yandere undertones, this aint healthy an: i keep forgetting my irls have my blog lowkey ive been scared of posting bc of my parents. also hey ladies whats up im back out of my flop era! miss me miss me now you gotta kiss me!

He was always lingering somewhere, no matter where you went.

It was like no matter where you ran, he would always find you. Quite frankly, you were sure that was half the appeal to him, he was a powerful man and he spared no expense in letting you know.

Sometimes, it was the little flowers he left on your doorstep in pristine condition, small notes in semi legible handwriting tied to the stems. Other times, it was the faint smell of his perfume that lingered as he’d find himself in front of your door at odd hours of night, begging you to let him in, as if he’d been dying at the steps of your door.

And like a fool, you finally cracked, you did let him in. You were charmed, though there was no doubt it made you uneasy, he’d pacified you with his dazzling promises to take care of you, so what could’ve been the harm?

You didn’t see him again after that night. In fact, you hadn’t seen him for weeks afterwards, then the games started as soon as you moved.

You’d run, he’d show up, you’d run again.

It was a cycle. There was no leaving the city anymore either, his forces scattered across every crook and nanny of the city. You’d sealed your own fate with just one hospital visit, deliverance of the exact news you’d prayed to not get as you sat with a test in your hands, two pink lines string back at you.

You had no idea how you even made it home that night.

It was in your best interest not to move anymore, but you weren’t even sure how to move forward. Your wallet wasn’t entirely drained, but you were. Any chance of moving away was immediately stomped out, leaving you with no choice but to firm up against him and his sugar coated words.

It wasn’t long before he found out, and when he did, he made sure you knew. You couldn’t tell for your life how he felt though.

At first, it was minor things, baby items you didn’t recall ordering appearing at your door. You chalked it up to clerical error, but something nagged at you as you inspected them. Then, more expensive items started to appear, everything a new mother could dream of, but it made you uneasy.

Sometimes he’d come along with one of these gifts, standing outside the door as you peered at him through the eyehole. You never answered, with the hope that he'd leave you alone, hoping to dissuade him from anything further.

Then the biggest shock came along, sitting across from you on the counter, as if it’d been there the whole time. You had no time to question, let alone think about it upon seeing the small note attached to the box.

I hope you’ll love the gift exactly how I did when I saw it, xoxo.

You knew exactly what a diamond ring implied. Yet, you couldn’t seem to wrap your head around why he would’ve sent it. The last thing he would’ve done was tie himself to you after trying so long to avoid you.

It’d been four days since the ring had appeared there, and you were simply hoping it was a fluke, no sign of him to back the ever present thought of the intrusion.

You sat at the dining table, poking around your half-assed salad as you stared at the box. You could’ve sold it off, but there was no doubt someone would’ve found out and reported it back to him, leaving you to bear the brunt of his anger at your outright refusal. He’d never hurt you, but you saw everything in his actions.

The thought was more than enough to throw you off your meal, pushing away the plate with a pained sigh. Eating wasn’t the only thing that’d become harder in recent months, as working had left you with barely any time for yourself.

You were almost ready to doze off right there and then, had it not been for the series of sharp raps on the door, earning a grumble from you as you dragged yourself to the door with a mind full of insults to hurl at the person.

It hadn’t occurred to you to check who it was as you sleepily fiddled knob, only saved by the grace of the chain lock you’d forgotten to unlock.

“Hey there.”

Your blood froze, hazel eyes staring down through the crack of the door. There he was again, the devil himself, at your doorsteps as if he’d been waiting for you for a long time.

“Lando?” it came out as more of a whisper than anything else, voice cracking from a lack of proper use.

“It’s nice to see you too sweetheart,” He laughed, tilting his head at you to meet your eyes through the wide crack.

There was a look in his eyes, although you couldn’t entirely decide if it was predatory or not as you averted your eyes, looking down at the handle of the door.

“What’s going on in there? Are you working late again? Though the doctor said it wasn’t good for you to be up this late with the baby on the way.”

You didn’t respond, trying to shut the door as subtly as you good, hitting something between the doorframe. Jitters ran down your spine when the door wouldn’t move further, looking down to see what it was.

He’d wedged his shoe in between, the bastard. You looked back up, swallowing as he narrowed his eyes, the smile slipping off his face for moments to reveal thinly masked displeasure before disappearing entirely.

He knew what you were trying to do. You didn’t know if the guilt building up in your chest, or the possibility of what he could’ve done, scared you more. He’d never explicitly laid a hand on you, but the amount of torture was already enough as he lingered in your space.

“Someone has to keep the lights on,” You muttered, letting him nudge the door open. You were already fighting a losing battle, there was no way to keep him away but to hold him at an arm's length. That was how he’d gotten in the first time. He couldn’t fool you twice though.

“That’s why I've been sending you stuff, have you not gotten it?” He frowned. For a moment, it almost felt as if he were trying to be genuinely involved. You knew better.

You hesitated, looking back and forth between the chain lock and his face, though not much contemplating would be able to change the choice that’d already been made for you.

“No. I… donated it to some of the others at work. Needed it more than I did.”

There it was again, the indignancy in his eyes.

“I got it for you though, was it not to your liking then?” His voice was eerily calm, but you knew exactly what it meant. Your hand instantly went up to the chain, almost as if it was moving on its own. Fear gripped at you. You had no idea what he was going to do next.

“So, you’re determined to be a single mother then? Do you know the kind of trouble it would get you and the baby into…” He raised his voice, pausing to see if you’d reconsidered.

Clearly a slight tremble in your hand was enough to convince him you’d finally stood down, a smirk gracing his already vicious face as you opened the door. You had no plan to, but it was hopeless to try and stand up without attracting attention, the last thing you wanted was for everyone to know what a shameless bastard he was.

“Just come inside please. Don’t let anyone see you any more.” You whispered, letting him through the threshold before you shut the door behind you.

“You’ve been busy, haven’t you? Just look at the state of your... apartment.” He shook his head, pushing at stray articles laying all over the floor with his foot, as if they were positively filthy. There were still boxes from your last move sitting around the living room, the only real piece of furniture unpacked being your bed and the table you were sitting at.

You couldn’t help but be a little embarrassed as you walked into the kitchen, you’d never been this untidy before. It wasn’t any easier as Lando tailed you, only pausing outside the door frame, as if something stopped him from coming through.

“You should move from here. I don’t like this apartment, it’s in a sketchy part of town.”

“Well, I don't recall asking for your opinion, did i?”

You didn’t pay any mind to his poking, filling a random mug up as you stood at the sink before you shot back, standing in the dark of the kitchen as he walked away, presumably to shuffle through your personals again. You were thankful for a moment of silence though, head pounding from all that had happened today.

You stood there lost in thought, and he’d returned sooner rather than later, tone disapproving as he spoke to you once again.

“I wonder how on earth I'm supposed to convince you if this can’t stop you from trying to make it on your own.”

Only, he wasn’t at the doorway anymore, standing a little further back, waving a stack of letters to your face. The color of the envelopes, you immediately knew what the contents were.

Heat seemed to bloom across your face, rushing over to grab the letters from him. It was of no use, he could easily keep them out of your reach, but it didn’t stop you.

“Sweetheart, what happened to you? Looks like you’ve managed to stir up more trouble than you can handle, am i right?” You could hear the mock empathy in his voice, distorted by the rush of blood to your ears.

“You. You happened to me.” You hissed back at him, finally grabbing the papers and slinking backwards. There wasn’t any time to leaf through them, but the big bright red stamps were more than enough to drive you to tears when you saw them. But you couldn’t cry here. Not in front of him.

He didn’t respond to your remark, simply giving you a look of pity, watching with careful eyes as you tossed the pages back onto the table, taking your seat back. The tension was getting higher, only breaking when you finally looked at him, opening your mouth.

“You can’t just come in here, into my life,” you managed, voice quivering despite the resolution you’d come to, “And act like you own the place. You have no idea what I’m dealing with.”

“Don’t I?” Lando pushed himself off the opposing wall, getting closer. “I’m the one who’s been watching you struggle, I'm the one who’s trying to help you love.”

“And is this what help is then?” The thought tasted bitter. “Sending gifts isn’t helping, it’s… wrong.”

Then adding in a whisper, “You know i can’t afford this.”

He paused, the righteous look he had faltering for a second. “You’re reading it all wrong. I’m just trying to provide for you and the baby, but you want to be stubborn. You won’t take my help, nor will you take my money.”

“I don’t want your money, please.” You begged mercifully, looking at him eye to eye since the first time he’d stepped through the door.

“Really?” He raised an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth twitching into a half-smile that sent chills through you. “You should be thanking me. Not many get the same kind of priority you’re getting right now. I’m only trying to make it easier.”

“I would never do it with your filthy money, how many have you run over just to make a paycheck?” You murmured, pausing at the look on his face.

“At least I can provide for myself. I won’t ever have to scrap the bottom of a tip jar only to fail to make rent.” He replied smoothly, eyes narrowing at your attempt to rebuke him.

The implication hung heavy in the air, and you clenched your fists, nails digging into your palm. “I… can’t.”

The silence seemed to stretch thinner, and you could feel the burn in your eyes as you looked down at your clasped hands. You couldn’t even really tell when the first tear slipped. It kept coming, and you couldn’t stop it. You knew he was right.

“Hey, hey, none of that.” He said slowly, getting down on one knee to meet your eyes, taking your hand in his. “I was out of line for that, wasn’t i?”

You shook your head, covering your mouth to stop the sobs from escaping. He seemed remorseful, running a thumb over your knuckles as he looked at you with a mix of pity and something foreign. “I know I upset you, but I'm still offering you a chance here. I wanna set it right between us.”

You didn’t argue through the tears, and he seized the moment. “You can struggle all you want but I can provide everything you need. I can make the baby my heir, I can give you the life you deserve... all you have to do is say yes.”

“Say yes to what? Marrying you?” The words seem to slip out of your mouth mid sob, and a look of amusement crossed his face as you slapped a hand over your mouth.

“Exactly,” he replied, trademark grin spreading across his face. “Imagine it. A beautiful ceremony, a life together. You’d have someone by your side who can ensure nothing threatens you. You’d be safe and sound. The baby would be my successor, guaranteed.”

“I barely even know you. You don’t know me.” You whimpered as he played with your hand, too loving, too suffocating.

He moved closer to your lap this time, bringing his hand up to wipe the tears, soft and tender than you’d known him to be. “You don’t have to be strong all the time, and I know it feels like you don’t know me at all. This is a big decision.”

“It’s not just a decision, Lando. It’s my life.” You hiccuped, despairing clawing at your insides. “How do I know you won’t just leave when you’re bored of me?”

“Didn’t I promise to take care of you and the baby?” He gently cupped your face, tilting it up so you had no choice but to meet his eyes. “Look at me. You’re not alone in this. I’m here now, and I want to help.”

There was a flicker of recognition at his words at the back of your brain, raising voices of caution as you looked at him through glassy eyes. “And what if I can’t love you back like you want me to?”

Lando’s eyes darkened slightly, and he took your hands, pulling you closer. “You don’t have to love me right now. Just trust me.” His grip tightened, slightly painful as he held onto you. “Just let me show you what it means to be cherished.”

He leaned in, his lips almost brushing your ear, the movement making your breath hitch. “Let me in, stop thinking so hard.”

You could’ve stopped breathing, time slowing as he pushed the ring box into your lap.

He was never going to give you a choice, but what he said was ultimately true.

“Just think,” Lando urged as you squeezed your eyes shut, allowing him to play with your ring finger. “Think about what you could have.”

You’d never really realized how much his scent stuck till you until now, wrapping around you and lingering softly. A part of you was tempted to lean into him, to let him guide you into this new reality.

Even if you hadn’t made up your mind, he likely already had.

“Fine.”

Wordlessly, the cold metal slipped on the finger he’d been tracing moments before, bringing up your hand to kiss it.

“See? You’re already one step closer.” he murmured, his voice low and soothing. “That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

You could only look at him, dried tear tracks sticky against the sudden cold draft of the air.

“It’s a promise,” he said, his thumb brushing over the ring as if it had already tied you together. “I won’t let you go just like that.”

You shuddered.

There was no escaping him now. You were tied to him.

A sugar coated nightmare, it seemed.

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wxsteriawishes · 15 days ago

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how to manipulate the lads boys

(not that we would ever do that. . . right?)

go back to the masterlist

content: toxic behavior

caleb

1. he's scared of losing you. so use that fear. remind him how you managed to move on when you thought he had died. show him you have other options. threaten to leave him if he doesn't let you have your way. he'll do anything to get you to stay. compare him to others. mention how your friend's boyfriend never gets so annoyed by a night-out, why did he have to care so much?

2. pretend you're heartbroken each time you mess up. apologize, say sorry and don't let him change the subject. cry, pretend to lose your appetite, mess up your sleep schedule for a few nights. show how much you regret whatever it is that you did. he always forgives you anyway.

3. he prides himself on knowing you well. it's part of why he thinks you should be with him. show him how much you've changed, how little he seems to understand your needs now. he'll desperately change to fit your needs, no matter how outrageous they are.

rafayel

1. this one's tricky, because 99% of the time, he's the one manipulating others. so you have to build trust before you feed his paranoia. make him believe you're innocent, you're genuine, you're pure. that way, he can't see you as anything but an angel. he'll confuse himself, desperate to pin the blame on anyone else, maybe even himself.

2. subtly say or do things that he hates, but play it off. he uses humor to cope, his banter is a mask. tell him that you went out to dinner with a guy, but you didn't think it'd be a big deal so you never brought it up. when you're cleaning his studio, accidentally break that old brush he never used anyway. lie about breaking it. act sorry when he finds out. he'll get so caught up in the little things that he'll start to overthink. when you try to play off the more serious things, he'll second-guess himself and convince himself it also wasn't that big of a deal, like usual.

3. despite the smiles, he is a little insecure. he doesn't always trust your love. and your words always cut deep. you may fight with him often, but you also make up almost immediately. choose your insults carefully. even if you claim to have said them in the heat of the moment, he won't forget them. tell him what he's doing wrong, hit him where it hurts. even if you're longer upset with him about it, he'll keep you in mind. he'll stay in line.

sylus

1. use your bond with him to your advantage. each time he gets upset and wants space, make sure he can't leave. pretend you can't control it. let him lose control and lash out. that way, he has to be the one to apologize instead of you. he already knows he used to disgust you when you first reunited. if he oversteps and you're trembling, he'll believe it again. he'll back up, won't be so controlling, if it meant showing you he would never hurt you.

2. similar to rafayel, he might be pulling the strings even when you think you have everything under your control. so start doing the same back. similar to the first point, when he lashes out about you putting yourself in danger, flip it back on him. he does the same, doesn't he? and why was he shouting at you? guilt trip him to insanity.

3. ask for space. even if you don't need it, take the space to gather your bearings. give it a day or two, maybe even a week, depending on the situation. he'll crack first, coming to you to talk, because were you still upset? he'll get scared you've finally had enough of him and that you might leave. he'll take the blame, tripping over himself to do it, even if he wasn't the one in the wrong.

xavier

1. gaslight him. he won't think you'll ever lie to him, so work off of that. if he disapproves of something you did and gets upset, act as if that was normal these days. say it was a prank, just a little joke. explain you didn't mean anything behind it, it'll imply he was overreacting. he'll get the hint and drop the issue quickly.

2. he's clingy and he doesn't like it when you avoid him. there's your strategy. when he does something you don't like, give him the silent treatment. avoid him, pretend he's invisible, it'll drive him a little insane. he'll do anything to get you to stop ignoring him. if he apologizes for the right thing, let up a bit. start giving dry responses, he'll be relieved you were at least speaking to him again. he'll keep himself in check, you won't have to do much.

3. love bomb him. get him used to an affectionate routine of kisses, praises, cuddles, and surprises. the second you stop, or pull back a little, he will be affected. if you want something, or if he messed up, this will put him back on high alert, ready to apologize and please you.

zayne

1. won't work until he finally begins to trust that you love him as much as he loves you. sandwich your complaints between two compliments. mention how much you value him, but he just didn't seem to do this or act like that. but of course he's such a selfless person, so how can you complain? he doesn't like hearing that last part. he doesn't like you excusing his bad traits just because you love him, or certain parts of him. he'll try to fix whatever he can, even if your complaint might've actually been trivial or unreasonable.

2. it's not him, it's you. emphasize how he's not to blame, there has to be a fault within you. because he will not believe that second part. he'll over-analyze the situation, disregard his emotions and only think logically. he'll reason his way to pinpoint himself as the problem, he'll sit you down and ask you what he needs to do to be better. make sure to be very grateful, because he didn't need to do all of this. you already loved him so much. but if he really wanted to. . .

3. get injured. seriously. catch a cold, bruise your rib mid-mission, or somehow manage to get his evol to go out of control and hurt you. his biggest fear is hurting others, he has nightmares of killing you. he'll already feel guilty the second he sees you not in perfect health. he'll put aside everything, the horror of losing you, of being the reason you might be gone, will soften him. he'll be wrapped around your finger.

ranking

easiest to hardest to successfully manipulate

1. caleb (um, he's too desperate for you. yes, he's literally a menace as colonel, but you're you)

2. xavier (extremely intelligent, but he trusts you too much. won't question you)

3. zayne (he already has a feeling you deserve better, so he understands when you're dissatisfied with him)

4. sylus (observant and keen to pick up any ingenuity, but he's too attached to notice/care with you)

5. rafayel (the og manipulator. he's good at networking and he's popular for a reason. you might both be manipulating each other simultaneously. however. you betrayed him once before, you could do it again)

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save-a-forest-ride-a-bear · 1 year ago

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🗒 ꒰⸝⸝₊ General Dating Headcanons ❛ ✧

Featuring: Astarion, Gale, Wyll & Halsin

# Note: content warning for very brief talk of abuse and general trauma back to navigation ´ˎ˗

🌿┊ASTARION

Talk about touch and attention starved. This guy wouldn't know a healthy relationship if it hit him in the face. Whenever you're nice to him or touch him without any innuendo, he's on edge. You must want something from him. Why else would you be doing this? It doesn't make sense.

Speaking of which, touching him out of nowhere usually doesn't end well. He has a tendency to flinch. He cackles and says he just thought he saw a bug, "Silly me," but you both know better than that.

He grows used to it, however. It just takes some warming up to. Eventually, the discomfort fades, replaced by a yearning so strong he swore he felt his heart beat again. When his brain realizes you don't want to hurt him and it's safe to be around you, he starts craving more contact. He's too prideful to ask, but he's not good at hiding it, either.

He loves any kind of compliment, don't get him wrong, but the ones that have nothing to do with his appearance seem to stick more. He's heard every single little praise possible for his face and body — but for his personality? For his mannerisms? If it ever happened before, he can't remember it.

Insists he doesn't like cuddling and only does it because you want to. But the one night you didn't, you woke up to him clinging to you anyway. He said he must've done so in his sleep, completely ignoring the fact elves can't sleep. Deception: critical failure.

Surprisingly protective. If you get hurt during a fight he goes ham on the enemy while yelling for someone else to take care of your wounds right now. He lost everything he had after Cazador — lost even himself to the hands of that sick, wicked man. He can't afford to lose you too.

The relationship started with him trying to manipulate you, sure, but that's not the case anymore. He cares. He genuinely cares for something other than himself for the first time in two centuries, and he's scared you still think you're being tricked by his charms. Again, he's too prideful for constant displays of affection, but he does say "I love you" more often than ever. Maybe if he says it enough times, you'll believe it.

He stares a lot. There's just something so endearing about seeing you in your own little world, oblivious to everything else, or at least oblivious to his gawking. It's the most honest part of you, the most yourself you could be, and he enjoys it from afar.

🌿┊GALE

So needy. You leave him at camp for a few hours and you come back to him acting like he needs to be sent to the seaside for his health. A year of living as a hermit does things to a man's necessities for attention.

Loves your scent. He doesn't share his clothes with anyone (that fabric is expensive, dammit), but he insists you wear them so that they smell like you later.

Despite being a cat owner, he's very dog-coded. Will do things with the sole purpose of receiving praise or kisses from you and gets extremely pouty when he doesn't.

Speaking of kisses, he takes any excuse conceivable to kiss you. Good morning, good night and good luck kisses are very much mandatory. Doesn't even have to be on his lips, he's more than satisfied with a cheek or forehead kiss as well.

He enjoys being taken care of, even if he complains. When you scold him for not sleeping over some ancient tome, he can't help but feel loved. Will return the favour, of course — especially if it comes to food. He's very insistent with the "three meals a day" thing.

Will read to you, there's no way around it. It's relaxing for both of you, so he doesn't see why he shouldn't. He also says he can pay attention better to the text when he says it out loud, anyway. You having your head on his lap as he does it is merely a bonus.

🌿┊WYLL

If this man has any flaw, it's that he's always trying to make every moment you spend together perfect and forgets to just lay back and enjoy himself. Even then, he only does it because of how much he loves you.

The last romantic! Goes all out with dates and gifts — fancy restaurants and the biggest bouquets you've ever seen. Money is no object when it comes to you. Truly a good old-fashioned lover boy.

Definitely has a saviour complex — the type to say "I can fix them" unironically. He just loved you and wants you to be okay, and if he has to drag you there himself he will.

Will go on rants about how smitten he is with you and how perfect you are on a daily basis. If you have to leave for the day, he'll write it as a love letter instead.

Always holding you close, but there's no possessiveness to it. It's a display of affection, not ownership. He's yours as much as you are his.

Loves taking showers together. Not for any sexual reason (though he wouldn't complain if things ended up going down that path), he just finds it incredibly intimate and genuinely enjoys washing your hair for you.

You're not just another romance to him — you're the love of his life, the person he wants to spend the rest of his life with, if the gods allow it.

🌿┊HALSIN

Despite the whole "Desire flourishes wherever it finds purchase" thing, he genuinely doesn't see himself falling for anyone else as he did for you. It's nice to know he could still indulge if he wanted, but for now, he doesn't.

Loves having his hair played with. There's just something so soothing about it. Or maybe it's his wild shape talking, asking for pets. We'll never know.

Always finds an excuse for you to sit on his lap. Again, not for sexual reasons, he just likes wrapping his arms around you and resting his chin on your head or shoulder.

Even though he isn't one for commitment, he has a constant, extremely severe case of baby fever. He obviously wouldn't push you if you're not ready, but he does make his sentiments on the matter known.

Stepping dangerously close to smut territory with this one, but he loves how small you are compared to him. The way he engulfs you entirely when he hugs you or how your hand disappears under his as he holds it — it's endearing to him.

I cannot go without mentioning how good his hugs are. Like, seriously. He's so warm and gentle but still strong and it makes you feel safe. It's the best thing in Faerun.

Loves how you look like wearing his clothes. It ties into the size difference thing, since they just look huge on you. Also, much like Gale, he has a thing for your scent, so there's really no downsides.

#bg3 #bg3 x reader #baldurs gate 3 #baldurs gate 3 x reader #astarion x reader #gale dekarios x reader #gale of waterdeep x reader #wyll ravengard x reader #halsin x reader #bg3 headcanons

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sukirichi · 1 year 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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itsnesss · 5 months ago

Note

Hello how are uuu👾,I heard ur requests were open!💜

May I please request Hwang In-ho x player! fem reader who is really affectionate (not sexually tho) like a fluffy affectionate bunny rabbit,has pigtails and always says I love you a ton!,like we need some fluffy and sweetness for our frontman as we had too much smut already💜👾

𝐢 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮, 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐞𝐫 𝟎𝟎𝟏 | hwang in-ho (the frontman) × fem!reader

summary | the request

warnings | emotional distress and vulnerability, violence and intense situations, psychological themes and manipulation

word count | 0.8 k

author's note | it would help me a lot if you liked, commented and reposted so that more people read what I write and don't forget to follow me, thanks ᡣ𐭩

The atmosphere of the game was suffocating, a place where hopelessness and fear weighed in the air like an impossible-to-remove blanket. But you were different. Where others saw the end, you found reasons to smile. Where others felt fear, you radiated a contagious tenderness.

Your two pigtails bounced with every step, and your eyes shone even in the darkest corners of the shared dormitory. No one understood how you could keep that sweet spirit in a place like this, but they didn’t try to stop you either.

" I love you!" you exclaimed enthusiastically, throwing imaginary hearts with your hands. Sometimes you said it to other players, sometimes to the soldiers, and even to the air.

But, above all, you said it to him.

" I love you, player 001!"

The first time you said it, most didn’t even bother to react, accustomed to your constant displays of affection. But you noticed. You saw how he, the older man with the serene smile, slightly raised his gaze toward you. He didn’t say anything, but that small gesture was enough for you to try again the next day.

" I love you, player 001!"

And the next.

" I love you, player 001!"

You didn’t expect him to reply, but every time you said it, there was a slight blink in his eyes, a barely noticeable curve in his lips, almost imperceptible, but present.

The games continued, cruel and relentless. There were days when you felt you couldn’t smile anymore, but then you would see him. Always calm, always watching, as if he knew something that others didn’t.

One night, while everyone slept, you approached him with light steps. He was sitting on his bed, awake, staring at the ceiling.

" Can’t sleep, player 001?" you whispered.

He slowly turned his head, surprised to see you there.

" Not much, little one." His voice was soft, almost fatherly.

Without asking for permission, you sat beside him, hugging your knees.

" When I can’t sleep, I like to count the things I love." You smiled sweetly. " Like... I love you, player 001!"

He let out a soft laugh. It was the first time you heard him laugh.

" Do you always say that?"

" Of course. Everyone needs to hear that they are loved, don’t you think?"

He watched you in silence for a long moment. There was no judgment in his eyes, only curiosity.

" It’s been a long time since I’ve heard something like that."

" Well, you’ll have to get used to it! Because I’ll tell you every day," you said with a mischievous smile.

Over time, you noticed how he began to care for you in small ways. He would offer you his extra portion of food without you asking. He would walk beside you during the games, making sure you were safe. And, though he didn’t say it, his presence became a refuge for you.

In one of the toughest rounds, you almost fell while running, but a firm hand caught you.

" Not so fast, little one," he murmured, helping you stay on your feet.

Your heart beat hard, but not from fear.

" I love you, player 001!" you told him, and he smiled tenderly.

The scariest night was when the lights went out, and everyone started attacking each other. You hid under a bunk, hugging yourself, trying not to cry. But then, footsteps approached.

" Come out." You recognized his voice instantly.

" But... I’m scared..."

" I’m here. No one will hurt you."

Carefully, you came out and hugged him without thinking. His body was stiff at first, but then you felt one of his hands gently stroke your hair.

" You’re shaking," you murmured. " Are you scared?"

" No, I just... don’t want to see you hurt."

Your eyes filled with tears.

" I love you, player 001!"

He sighed, and for the first time, his words surprised you.

" I love you too, little one."

It was a whisper so low that you almost thought it was a dream. But that night, you slept in his arms, feeling safe for the first time since you entered the game.

Over time, everyone started noticing his softness toward you. No one understood how someone so serious, so mysterious, could tolerate the girl with pigtails who never stopped saying "I love you."

But you knew the truth. Beneath all his calm and coldness, there was someone who also needed affection. And every time you looked at him, with your eyes shining and your contagious smile, he felt it.

" Hey..." he said one time while you shared a piece of bread.

" Yes?"

" You didn’t tell me anything today."

" Nothing?" you asked, confused.

" You know... that thing you always say."

You chuckled.

" I love you, player 001!"

And he, with that small smile he reserved only for you, replied softly:

" I love you too, little one."

#squid game #squid game 2 #squid game x fem!reader #squid game x reader #hwang inho #hwang in ho #hwang in ho x reader #in ho #🖇️ hwang inho #🖇️ frontman

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freyaphoria · 1 year ago

Text

Run Away Together (Part I)

tw: Yandere Hongjoong, kidnapping, hwa is kidnapped too, food mentioned, manipulation, blood, gun, torture mentioned, family issues mentioned, slightly seongjoong but idk what are they too, yandere seongjoong x reader

wc: 2318

a/n: Hello! I think most people don't like the yandere theme, should I stop writing in this theme? Idk I should continue writing or not, so if you give me feedback, i would be happy :,)

Yandere!Matz masterlist

you can read the side story here

a day with them

next part ->

"If Hongjoong saw what you were doing, he would tear us both apart." You jumped so much at the sound you heard that you almost lost your balance. You suddenly turned around and looked at the dark corridor where the voice came from. "Seonghwa please, let me go.” Seonghwa was walking towards you with slow and silent steps. You really didn't want to think about what Hongjoong would do to both of you if he found out you had escaped from your room

Seonghwa was always more tolerant in your relationship; He was the best option between the two in your emotionally weak times. Hongjoong, on the other hand, was more strict and rule-making. Seonghwa would relax Hongjoong's rules for you when he wasn't around. Out of the two of them, the idea of kidnapping you came from Hongjoong and Seonghwa felt guilty towards you for not being able to stop his idea. That's why he treated you more gently.

"Angel, don't make things difficult and come here." As he walked towards you, you took a step back. "Seonghwa, let's run away together. He's not at home anyway. He won't know until we go to the police." You said in a pleading tone as you reached your hands forward and tried to stop him. "Police? Even the nearest grocery store is 3 hours away from here. We might even fall prey to wolves in the forest while trying to escape." You stopped when your back hit the outside door. "Don't you have a phone?" Tears filled your eyes as you realized he wasn't going to help you. Seonghwa was your only friend here and you thought maybe he could help you out. "Remember, I was once his victim, just like you. He destroyed my phone in front of my eyes when he brought me here." He reached out a hand to you and caressed your cheek. "Why don't you give in and try loving him? Believe me, he's not someone to hate." Isn't he someone to hate? You harshly removed Seonghwa's hand from your cheek. "Hwa, he kidnapped us! Are you aware of th-"

"If you treat him like that again, I will teach you a lesson you will never forget."

You lost your balance backwards when the door behind you suddenly opened and Hongjoong grabbed you by your arms harshly from behind. "As if trying to escape wasn't enough, you also tried to persuade Hwa, and on top of that, you were rude to him. Know your place." You tried to avoid his grip. "I'm not rude to him, I took his hand away from my cheek. You are exaggerating. And if you're not happy with it, just let me go!" You said all the words in one go, and Seonghwa was praying to stop you from going any further and saying anything.

Hongjoong had the scariest look you had ever seen in your life. He could make anyone do whatever he wanted with just one look. Now he's giving you the same look, waiting for you to kneel in front of him and apologize. But this time you weren't going to fall for his trick. You will walk out that door no matter what the cost.

The door was still open and Hongjoong's grip was gradually loosening. "Angel, don't be stubborn. Come on." Seonghwa gently grabbed your shoulder, trying to pull you inside. Hongjoong's silence scared him too, and he almost knelt down and apologized for you. Hongjoong noticed Seonghwa getting nervous and nodded at him. "Hwa my prince, you go inside and wait for me." Seonghwa instantly listened to his order and went towards the living room. He didn't want you to get hurt, he would have stopped Hongjoong if he could. Hongjoong would include Seonghwa in all your punishments so that he wouldn't forget his place. Him telling Seonghwa to go inside made you panic. "Police, huh? What will you do when you go to the police? Who will believe you?" He took one of his hands from your arm and placed it on your stomach. "Look at you, I take good care of you, I even made you gain weight since you came here. Your hair and clothes are also clean. Who would believe that someone kidnapped you? Do you have proof?"

He was really taking good care of you. He prepared your 3 meals with the highest quality and also provided snacks. Ever since you learned what would happen if you didn't eat with a harsh punishment when you first came here, you had been eating everything on your plate out of fear.

"They will believe me! I have been missing for months. They will definitely ask what happened!" Right now, in Hongjoong's eyes, you were like a child throwing a tantrum because she wanted more candy from her mother. "I've told you a hundred times that no one is looking for you. Your family is very happy to be rid of you." Ah, he started again. His favorite thing was to hit you at your most sensitive point, the problem between you and your family. If you continued to listen to him, he would manipulate you again and make you stay here. So you hit his stomach with your elbow and broke away from his grip. You slipped away from him, went out the open door and ran into the front yard.

The fact that he wasn't following you caught your attention and scared you, but there was no turning back now. It was the first time you had stepped outside in months, and as Seonghwa once said, you were in the middle of the forest and it was pitch black. You couldn't see where you were going and you were constantly losing your balance because the ground was full of large tree roots. The best thing you could do was try to go as straight as you could and keep running until you saw a road or a house.

Hongjoong went to the terrace, watching with amusement as you excitedly tried to escape. One of his favorite things was to give his victims such small hopes and then shatter those hopes. When he first brought Seonghwa here, he tried to escape with all his might. He even tried to fight Hongjoong. But he gave up after a while because he was caught every time. Hongjoong was sure you would be the same.

Seonghwa looked at Hongjoong from the terrace door. "Go and bring her to me before she falls and hurts herself." Hongjoong said to Seonghwa without taking his eyes off you. "Me? But I don't know the way. We'd both get lost." He hasn't gone out since he came here, except his small escape attempts. He didn't know the forest too. Hongjoong placed his hand on his forehead in distress and sighed. "Then you two should get lost and be eaten by the wolves, Seonghwa. I told you to go and bring her here." When Hongjoong raised his voice, Seonghwa got scared and immediately went downstairs and took the flashlight. He didn't want to run outside in this cold, so he called out to you. "Angel! Please come here! The forest is too dangerous!" When he couldn't hear a sound from you, he huffed and went outside and started looking around with his flashlight. When he couldn't find any sign of you, he looked up at Hongjoong on the terrace and shrugged. Hongjoong gestured with his hand towards the right and Seonghwa ran towards it.

He wanted this to be over as soon as possible, he ran towards you with all his strength, balancing himself with the illumination of his flashlight. When he took a break to catch his breath, he saw your curled body under a tree and jumped. "Agh! You scared me!" As he approached you, he moved the light to the side so that it wouldn't dazzle you. "Let's go. Hongjoong is angry. Let's not make him more angry." You still had your back turned and were not looking at him. This made Seonghwa shiver and he placed a hand on your shoulder to get your attention. "Angel? Are you oka-" When he looked at you, he saw you staring blankly ahead. "Stop being mysterious and stand up. He's watching us from the terrace. The longer we stay here, the worse it will get."

You turned your head towards Seonghwa. "Hwa, I hear car noises. If we run fast enough, we can catch one and get out of here." Seonghwa leaned towards you and put his hands under your armpits, pulling you to your feet. "Stop talking nonsense. We're in the middle of the forest and there's no driveway here. Like I said, the nearest grocery store is 3 hours away from-" "How do you know? You've never been outside either?" You interrupted him and asked in a whisper. Seonghwa rolled his eyes at you. "I know because Hongjoong said so. Now come on-"

Just then you heard a horn sound.

Seonghwa has never been this deep in the forest before. So he wasn't sure if Hongjoong was telling the truth or if there was a highway around here.

"Did you hear that?" you asked excitedly. It was clear from Seonghwa's surprised face that he heard it too. "No, we shouldn't do this. We shouldn't be here. Hongjoong will kill us." You took the flashlight from his hand and held Seonghwa's arm with your other hand. "Then we will die together. Rest assured, it is better than this life."

You pulled his arm and started running towards the direction of the voice. On the one hand, Seonghwa felt guilty for betraying Hongjoong, but he also wanted to be free. His feet were moving without him realizing it. After a while, he ran ahead and started pulling you. He seemed to want freedom more than you did. He had to take part in all of Hongjoong's crimes. Hongjoong was more obsessed and more brutal when he first kidnapped him, he had tortured Seonghwa for years with all of those aspects, and unlike you, he had no one by his side. After his tortures, he didn't have a friend who could wrap his scars and caress his hair to put him to sleep. Of course he suffered more than you.

"Seonghwa stop! I can't hear!" You stood together, waiting to hear a sound, breathless. There was complete silence and for a moment you thought you were dreaming. "We're sure we heard a horn! Maybe the cars have stopped passing. Let's keep going, we'll definitely find a road!"

Everything happened suddenly. If you ask in seconds, everything happened in 5 seconds.

1 Seonghwa held your hand again

2 You again shined the light of the flashlight in front of you

3 Seonghwa pulled your hand and prepared to run

4 You fell to the ground when something hard stabbed your leg.

5 You felt a warm thick liquid flowing down your thigh.

Since they kept talking about wolves, you first thought that a wolf had bitten your leg. Then, when you didn't see an animal next to you, you looked at Seonghwa. Seonghwa was staring at you on the ground, frozen in place with fear.

"What happened?" You couldn't feel anything because of the adrenaline. You just felt the warmth. "He shot you."

You couldn't see anything left behind because the light falling on the ground illuminated your face. You knew someone was there when Seonghwa lifted his head from you and looked forward. As the person in front of you moved towards you, Seonghwa stepped back.

"Hwa, give me one reason why I should forgive this action.” This bastard... This was the first time Seonghwa had gone this far, so he couldn't think of anything to say and fell to his knees out of habit. "Hongjoong plea-" "Okay, shut up, I'll think about whether to forgive you or not when we get home. Now you..." He turned to you and crouched down next to you. "What should we do with you?" He ran his hands through your hair and caressed it gently; His tone of voice and the fact that he was stroking your hair while you were lying on the ground covered in blood did not match at all.

"Since you are responsible for this, you will suffer the most punishment." He pointed the gun at your head. "Should I kill you and bury you right here or-" He held your hair harshly, lifted your head and looked at you with that scary look again "or do you want to continue living and rot in my basement?"

Seonghwa was watching you with holding his breath. Hongjoong had the potential to shoot you at any moment. "Have I still not taught you that when I ask you a question, you must answer? How good of a person I am. I even offer options." He fake laughed. Seonghwa stepped forward. "Hongjoong! It happened suddenly, we weren't thinking, forgive her." Hongjoong slowly turned his head towards him. "Do you want me to ask you the same question or do you want to shut up?" Seonghwa immediately fell silent and lowered his head.

You slowly started to feel the pain in your leg. "Kill me." He was looking into your eyes so deeply that you could feel his gaze on your soul. "I said kill me! It's better than living with you!" You shouted at him, driven by pain. "Uh wrong answer!" He pulled the gun from your head and held you in his arms. "Put me down! I want to die!" You were so cute when you were having a tantrum, he thought.

"Now, let's go back home and think about what you've done. Hwa my prince, can you hold the flashlight for us?" Seonghwa immediately did as he said.

He prayed for you and for himself along the way.

next part ->

note: English is not my first language. If you find anything ridiculous in what I wrote, you can tell me lol.

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angelsrcute · 1 year ago

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7 WEEKS AND 3 DAYS. 𝜗𝜚

(´∀｀*)ε｀　) ౨ৎ N–sfw content !! ; Dom!Scaramouche + Sub!FReader ➜ cws: angsty, toxic relationship, asshole scara, abuse, one sided love(?), kitchen sex, getting ghosted, unprotected sex, raw sex, manipulation, reader gets pregnant. ᡴꪫ‎

꒰ † ੭‎ — I do not condone these actions irl, this mostly shows how the reader is in a toxic relationship but can't get out of it. Also this is my first time done this type of a lyric fanfic!!

Scaramouche, who wouldn't know him? He was a popular guy. Though he wasn't a nice guy, a delinquent. Had the worst friend group, and slept around a lot. Any girl would die to have a night with him. So what happens when he starts hanging around you? You brushed it off thinking he just wanted to have a good fuck with you. All your friends had warned you about him, how bad he was. You mostly ignored him. Detentions and parent calls, very normal for him, not like his parents cared. Doing drugs, partying, and bullying sometimes.

All my friends say "fuck you".

But could you ignore his sweet words? holding your hand as you two watched the stars. How could you ignore his promises as he kisses the back of your hand, you of course fell in love with him. Hands on your waist as you sat on his lap, your arms wrapped around his neck. The kiss was passionate, not like some low effort kiss. Oh, how much you loved this man. That night you confessed to him, his face brightening up as he landed more kisses to your face. Laughing in his arms till your stomach hurt.

But I can't help but love you.

You let him into your house, even gave him a spare key. Went on dates, you forgot what everyone said about him. This is true love, he was nothing like the rumours. Daily texts and phone calls, missing each other even though you two meet daily. He even opened up to you, about his family. But once you both slept together, things started to change. You felt like he was spending less time with you. You thought it was because of how busy he was, you'd always stay awake at night, waiting for him to come back. You were so worried. He'd see your texts very late, whenever you asked to go out with him, he'd always make an excuse.

And even though you ran me out dry.

When he'd come home drunk, he'd sometimes hurt you, calling you a possessive bitch for questioning him so much. But would still apologise to you with tears in his eyes, promising he wouldn't do it again, cradling you like some child who's scared. You'd forgive him at the end, maybe he just had a bad day or was in a bad mood, it's alright, everyone has those types of days. It'd still happen, everytime. He got jealous very easily too, and wouldn't let you talk to other guys. Maybe now you're seeing his true colours, but he cherishes you so much, right?

"Fuck, Y/N, I'm sorry, I'm really sorry, I swear this won't happen again, don't be scared okay? please."

I still think you're a decent guy, Why?

Hands wrapping around your waist as he leaves trails of kisses on your skin. Bending you over the kitchen counter, “Forget the food, sweetheart. Let me make it up to you.” His cock thrusting into your cunt, it hurt, but you stayed quiet. He was never gentle with you, always leaving bruises. He shoots his load in your cunt, making you all warm and dumb.

On the rare days that he visited you, it would always lead to sex. You wonder if he sees you as nothing but an object. Silly thoughts, he's just showing you his love.

I should've caught him by his last name

You were pregnant, what a happy news. Maybe this will fix your relationship? You hoped so, desperately wanted him to look at you with the same eyes he once used to. Scaramouche never replied to you nor picked up your calls. Had he ghosted you? no this wasn't supposed to happen, he's just busy, right?

Tears fell from your eyes as you waited for your husband to come back, which he never did. Ah, what a dumb fucker you are, of course this was all a game. He didn't want to love a single person, he just wanted to have relief. What a shame your kid would never be able to see his father. Would he look just like scaramouche? You dreaded the thought.

You still believed that scaramouche loved you, at least you did, every moment.

It's been seven weeks and three days.

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dyns33 · 8 months ago

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New life

!! SPOILERS - Careful, Venom The last dance spoilers here !!!

I was wondering while watching the movie if that would give me new ideas for Eddie and his tiny alien, and yes, yes it did.

When Y/N had met Eddie Brock in a New York cafe, he had hesitated at first before accepting her into his life.

It had taken him several weeks to open up, talk to her, understand that she liked him, and then admit that he liked her too.

Once he had offered her his trust, he had explained why to her. Really explained everything, adding that he understood that she thought he was crazy and that she would decide to run away from him when he was done.

First, he had completely ruined his career and his relationship with his fiancée Anne by being selfish and stupid. For a long time, Eddie had refused to see the truth, making excuses, but he had to admit that it was all his fault.

Then, there was Venom. The alien symbiote who had brought as much joy as problems into his existence, before sacrificing himself to save him, along with the rest of humanity.

"He was my best friend." he said, trying to hold back his sobs. "He could be annoying, but I wasn't a gift either. We were supposed to see the Statue of Liberty together, but… Well. I miss him a lot. It's weird not hearing from him all the time. It's hard without him."

Not only did these revelations not scare Y/N away, but she found herself even more in love and touched by this wounded man who was doing his best to move forward despite everything he had been through.

Like a wild animal, it took a little more time to reassure Eddie that she really loved him and especially that he wasn't going to lose her.

For their first date, he offered her an ice cream, not far from Lady Liberty. Y/N took his hand, to support him, but especially so that he knew that she wasn't going to try to make him forget Venom.

Just because they were together didn't erase everything he'd experienced with his alien parasite friend, who was a lot like a boyfriend when he told her all their stories.

"Nah, just a friend."

"You said you loved each other."

"Like buddies."

"You had arguments as a couple. He was jealous and protective. You gave him chocolate on Valentine's Day."

"Once ! And to keep him quiet. And the rest was just a symbiote thing."

"You admitted to me that he 'took care of' your erections when he was in full form. Why did you have erections anyway ?"

"… Shit, I was in a relationship with Vee."

He cried again, in shock. Not because he was ashamed, but because he had not understood the nature of their relationship, much more intense than simple friendship. He did not blame Y/N for opening his eyes, as she did not hold back from doing so, thinking that it was necessary for him to grieve properly.

Several months passed, life continuing in an excellent direction.

After using his contacts and abilities, Eddie Brock had become a formidable reporter in New York, even if he was a little more careful about his methods and the people he wrote about.

In his private life, he made Y/N very happy, learning from his past mistakes to become the best boyfriend possible. No secrets, no lies, no manipulation to get information for an article. They were not in symbiosis, but almost.

Much more relaxed and open than before, he kept his calm in most situations. Even when they had some cockroach problems. Or rather one cockroach problem.

"It's still there." Eddie noted while drinking his coffee, observing the insect that was partially hidden behind the couch.

"Do you want me to call someone ?"

"Nah. He doesn't hurt anyone, that little guy. We don't leave food lying around, we throw out our trash. No point in staying here or calling his friends. He must be lost, he'll leave eventually."

"What if he thinks you're so cool that he tells the others to come over just so he can watch you sleep ?"

"Eww, babe, gross. Listen, if he's still here in a week, I'll take care of him. But it must be a neighbor with questionable hygiene who has a colony, he'll go back there."

The cockroach stayed, but like Eddie had said, he wasn't that much of a nuisance. Most of the time he was nowhere to be found, otherwise he stayed in his corner.

Strangely, he showed up when the couple was together, as if he was waiting to watch them. His presence was still abnormal, in addition to being possibly dirty, so Y/N decided to take matters into her own hands, trying to get him out.

"I know you're the most impossible thing to kill on this Earth." she said to the cockroach that was hiding under the closet. "And besides, Eddie decided he didn't want you to die, so let me put you in this jar, I'll take you to a landfill, and you'll be the happiest little cockroach, okay ?"

Of course, the insect wasn't ready to cooperate, putting itself as far away as possible, in an impossible place to reach. It was ridiculous, but Y/N had the impression that it understood perfectly what she was saying.

Eddie found her on the living room floor, her hand under the closet, trying for several hours to catch it.

"Need some help ?"

"Thanks, Eddie, it's between him and me now."

"Poor little thing that has no chance against someone stronger than them. Accept that he's winning."

"You're hilarious. He's staring at me without moving, he's making fun of me, it's personal. I'm pretty sure I saw him smile."

"You been upside down for a long time, babe ?" he asked as he sat down next to her, rubbing her back. "Come on, I'll take care of it, I'll get rid of the horrible monster."

"No, Eddie… Please…"

It was probably the first time someone had dropped their shoe to cry and try to hug a cockroach, but Eddie being an extraordinary man, Y/N was only half surprised. Same thing when the insect started talking again, small tentacles coming out of it to wrap around her boyfriend. She had thought she had imagined that voice.

Losing its dark color, the creature was thrown out the window, while the tentacles remained around Eddie, before disappearing, as if absorbed by his heart. Then an alien head appeared near his shoulder.

"Wait… Is that Venom ?" she asked, a bit lost. "You told me he was dead."

"I thought so too ! Last time, he was just exhausted but still inside me, but this time… Vee, I thought I'd never see you again !"

"Eddie… I told you it wasn't goodbye. It took me a lot longer than I thought to find you. Cockroaches are tough, but their legs are tiny, not as fast as a horse. And then… I saw you with your new love. So I didn't know if you'd want me to come back."

"But of course I…"

Remembering the discussion they had had, Eddie turned to Y/N, as if he was scared. Now that he knew the feelings he had for his symbiote, without ever realizing it when they were together, it was embarrassing to say that he wanted him back while he was in a relationship with her.

Maybe Venom had insisted for a long time that he get back with Anne, because it seemed to be the key to his host's happiness, but then there had been no one between them.

The alien didn't know Y/N. He had spent several days observing her, seeing if she was good enough for his Eddie, and after accepting that she was a suitable partner, he had wondered if he wasn't going to ruin everything by showing himself.

After all, Eddie had often said that it was his fault that he had lost everything. Venom didn't agree, he knew that most of his host's problems were the result of his bad decisions, but maybe he had turned his life upside down a bit, forcing him to give up certain things for him, like Vee had given up certain things to please him.

A relationship was certainly one of those things. With Anne, it might have been possible since she knew about the symbiote, but someone new ? That would have been hard to sell.

"You told her about me ?" Venom realized as he stared at Y/N. "Weren't you ashamed ? Didn't you repress your feelings because of the stupid social conventions that say men should be strong and insensitive ?"

"Of course I told her about you. I made a lot of resolutions after… After. I wanted to honor your memory, while being honest with Y/N."

"That's good, Eddie ! You're a little less of a loser !"

"Thanks, buddy, so nice."

Poor Eddie grimaced, probably accepting that this insult was a compliment, but Y/N quickly understood that there was a parallel, silent discussion going on between them in his head. She could easily guess that Venom was wondering if he would be able to stay, if she would leave because of him, or worse if his host would have to make a choice, which would make him unhappy.

Ensuring the happiness of his human was so important to him that the symbiote would have been ready to stay hidden under their couch, to be close to him without risking disturbing him. Who could hate such an adorable alien ?

"If we don't adopt chickens, and we buy lots of chocolate, I guess cohabitation won't be impossible." she smiled shyly, before they found the courage to ask her opinion.

"Babe ? Really ?"

"You really chose well, Eddie ! She might even be too good for you !"

"Thanks Vee, really super nice again. But babe, are you sure ? He can be… We are… You can say it if you find it weird."

"It's weird, but it doesn't bother me."

Almost every day, Eddie kissed her tenderly, in the morning, before leaving for work, when entering their apartment, when they went to sleep, but he had never been so passionate when he kissed her at that moment, repeating that he loved her.

As if he had been there forever, the alien had surrounded them with his tentacles in an attempt of a hug, commenting on the scene that he considered the most beautiful and romantic thing he had ever seen, even better than in his favorite telenovela with Maximiliano. He immediately ordered them to watch it when Y/N told him that she didn't know who he was talking about.

Not as invested, Eddie fell asleep on the sofa, keeping her in his arms and snoring lightly in her neck, while Venom explained the previous episodes to her with great excitement, as if everything was normal.

#venom #venom the last dance #spoilers #eddie brock x reader #eddie brock imagine #eddie brock #eddie brock fanfiction

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foreststarflaime · 5 months ago

Note

Can I have 13-15 for AGSZC?

Coming right up! Ty!!

13. Dumbest thing they’ve ever done

Angeal: took care of a fake plastic plant like it was a real one for several days before he noticed. This may or may not have been the result of a prank which he retaliated against in kind with extreme prejudice

Genesis: someone went through all his hardcovers and flipped their covers. He was really out of it one night and picked up one of his hardcover copies of Loveless. It took him much longer than it should have to realize that he was holding it upside down because the cover had been switched around and reading not off the page but from his own memory

Sephiroth: not letting his friends in on what he was dealing with with shinra hthrhrhh probably when Angeal forgot to give him a fork so he assumed the food he had been given (mac n cheese) was just supposed to be eaten with your hands. Genesis has a picture of the result framed in his apartment

Zack: repeatedly runs into poles/doorframes/etc quite often. He gets distracted talking to people or just by his own thoughts and completely forgets to watch where he’s going. Another contender: really liked being turned into a frog by various touch mes back in Gongaga, had to be rescued from this many times by his poor harried parents. Have you ever seen a frog do squats? Sotetsu has. Frequently

Cloud: Sephiroth passed by him in the hallways once. What ensued due to his nerves from that resembled some looney tunes or tom and jerry cartoon in its slapstick physical comedy. He tripped over himself in ways that should not be possible for the human body to achieve. He fell up the stairs

14. Most heroic moment

Angeal: we have not seen it play out in its entirety yet, but—there’s something to the simple gesture of just reaching out to your comrade, a scared, abused kid, and making sure he’s alright. Being there for him even when he pushes you away

Genesis: he was genuinely a hero. He may not have been fighting on the right side, he may have been somewhat selfish in pursuit of glory, but he took care of the people around him. Countless times he pushed himself to the brink of (and even over) mana exhaustion healing his fellow SOLDIERs, and troopers as well, himself. He saved a lot of lives that way, and many loved him for it, and were loyal to him for it—their Shinra-appointed commanders never took such care of them. Unfortunately, their loyalty did not pay off how anyone wished it would.

Sephiroth: I’m sorry I just still cannot get over how devastated he was by that random trooper’s death when they fell off the bridge in Nibelheim. He spent actual hours looking for him. The heights of true heroism right before the fall. I’m going to explode

Zack: dragging Cloud across the entire globe for an entire year straight while he was comatose and Zack himself was definitely not anywhere close to okay. And then making sure Cloud survived even when it seemed beyond hopeless—he could have left him and run and lived but he didn’t

Cloud: I so love that he just saw a sick kid and immediately made sure he’d have food and shelter and kindness and help, even when he himself was hurting too. Denzel <3

15. Worst thing they’ve ever done

Angeal: he did fight in the Wutai War, yknow. He probably killed a lot of people that didn’t deserve it, were just defending their homes. It’s that or making Zack kill him, or not reaching out to Seph when he saw he was struggling.

Genesis: killing his parents and whole village is pretty bad. It’s either that or—depending on how you split the blame between him and Hollander’s influence/lies/manipulation, turning his loyal SOLDIERs who stuck by his side into copies, making their lives a living hell. It might have been kinder to kill them.

Sephiroth: I mean. I think this one is fairly obvious 🔥🏠🏔️🗡️

Zack: again, a lot of the effects of just working for Shinra as a SOLDIER. You have to do some pretty bad stuff fighting for them. I could say stealing when he was on the run with Cloud but he had good reason for that and I don’t think it even comes close really

Cloud: leaving his friends when he wants to curl in on himself and shoulder all the burdens of his life on himself, making them worry and pushing them away when they would have been happy—and probably had more peace of mind—to help him

#angeal hewley #genesis rhapsodos #sephiroth #zack fair #cloud strife #ff7 #final fantasy vii #final fantasy 7 #crisis core #star rambles #ask game #headcanons #sotetsu #agszc

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cherryblossomfairyy · 4 months ago

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Clean

Pairing : Spencer Reid x ex!reader

Summary : The new case causes Spencer’s addiction to resurvice. Whats gonna happen to Spencer's life now? Along the lyrics of the song "Clean" by Taylor Swift.

Masterlist

a/n: she's a big one 5,7k WC. Also TW: addiction

The cold rain fell steadily outside the police station, casting a somber hue over the building as the team gathered around the conference table. The latest case had been a particularly difficult one—it wasn’t just the victims that were haunting them—five missing women, all seemingly unrelated, all from different walks of life—but something about the way the unsub operated, the way he manipulated and controlled, struck a nerve with Spencer.

The team had been working the case for days, but the more they uncovered, the more unsettling it became. The women, all in their twenties, had no obvious connection. Their backgrounds were different—some had strong family ties, others had been estranged for years. But the unsub’s signature was clear: he didn’t just abduct them. He isolated them first, broke them down emotionally, until they were so detached from their lives that they slipped into his world without resistance.

When the victims were found, they were disoriented, empty—like shells of the people they used to be. The sight scared Spencer more than he expected it would. Maybe it was because the victims were still alive but never would be truly themselves again. If they had died, the suffering would be over.

Spencer hasn’t talked to any of the victims, too scared to get too close. If he could just read the reports about what happened, he could try to take a step back and look at it more professionally, he thought. He knew he had to read the reports; he had to.

The fear that was coursing through him was almost paralyzing, but at the same time, it made him hyperaware of everything around him. It was like his body didn't know what to do.

Spencer thought he was stronger than the past version of himself, the one that had seen the gruesome things mankind did to others, the one that got kidnapped, the one that fell into the trap of addiction. The way he had struggled in the past with his own demons—how he'd tried to bury his pain in addiction. Now he knows it doesn't work like that. But logic doesn't seem to matter now. If logic was the leader, then why were people hurting others? Ever since he got clean, he’s been cautious. Trying to work through his problems the right way, not with drugs. But with therapy and surrounding himself with positive things in his life.

Like her, the one that was waiting for him to come home and cuddle on the couch. She would kiss him as soon as he walked through the door. He never had someone that waited for him and was so happy to see him. She was the best thing that could ever happen to him. The love and support he received was almost enough for him to completely let his guard down and talk with her about what was happening. Almost. She wasn't around when he got addicted the first time. She knew that something had happened when one day she was kissing his hands and arms and found the tiny scars left behind by the many needles he had used.

He thought he had buried his need for Dilaudid, only for it to come rushing back when he didn’t expect it. He thought he could just ignore it and keep going. His fingers drummed absentmindedly on the table, and his thoughts drifted back to a time he wished he could forget. Back to a time where nothing could hurt him, because he couldn't feel anything.

After hearing a loud noise from outside, he snapped back to his work. Spencer found himself staring blankly at the photo's on the whiteboard, trying to make sense of the patterns, but his thoughts kept drifting elsewhere. There was something about the case that triggered a deep, unsettling memory—one that he had tried for years to bury.

He couldn’t help but remember the dark time in his life when he had been emotionally suffocated, controlled by his own demons and insecurities.

As the team gathered around to debrief, Hotch’s voice cut through Spencer’s fog.

“We’ve found a pattern in the unsub’s behavior. The emotional manipulation is key. He isolates them, cuts them off from their families, their friends. He breaks them down until they no longer know who they are." The words struck Spencer hard. He had been there before. Not physically, but emotionally. The haunting feeling of being alone in a room full of people, of suffocating under the weight of your own mind—he knew that darkness. He knew the despair that came with the feeling of being trapped in your own life, unable to escape. Hotch continued, but Spencer's thoughts drifted.

Spencer had often thought about running away from his past, from the weight of his own thoughts, but instead, he had stayed. He had stayed for the people he loved. For the ones who believed in him, even when he couldn’t believe in himself. But sometimes, it wasn’t enough. His fingers tapped nervously against the table as the rest of the team discussed next steps. He could feel the pressure building, the suffocating feeling creeping back in.

Spencer’s thoughts were interrupted when JJ placed a hand on his shoulder, a subtle gesture of support. She had noticed the far-off look in his eyes, the way his usually steady demeanor had cracked. “Spencer, you okay?” she asked softly. He blinked, pulling himself back to the present. He smiled, though it was faint and far from convincing. “I’m fine,” he replied, his voice hoarse, but the weight of the case and the craving to feel numb again lingered.

But Spencer didn’t turn back to the case files. Instead, he pulled his phone from his pocket and stared at it for a long moment. He had avoided contact with certain people—his mother, his past relationships—because, somewhere inside, he had known it would all unravel. He had chosen to distance himself, just as the unsub’s victims had been forced to. He had been running from his own vulnerability for so long that the idea of confronting it felt like drowning.

Of course Spencer had deleted the phone number of his old dealer, but having an eidetic memory also comes with downsides. Without giving it a second thought, he sent a text to the now-renamed number in his phone. The case wasn't getting solved tonight, so he had time to meet up.

--- NEXT DAY ---

Spencer never went to bed. He just kept staring at the three vials of Dilaudid he had in his hands. His “rest” got interrupted by his ringtone. It was JJ; they have a new victim.

The rain was falling as the team drove to the latest crime scene, the storm outside reflecting the storm inside Spencer’s mind. He had lived through this kind of emotional devastation before, but it was different now. He had survived. And he was still here. The storm had passed. By the time they reached the scene, Spencer had regained his composure. The craving for the high got pushed aside; he had a job to do now. He had learned to push past the pain, but that didn’t mean the scars didn’t remain.

The key to solving the case, he knew, was understanding the pain the unsub had inflicted, the suffocating isolation. He had been there before, and now, he could help end it for someone else. In that moment, Spencer felt a sliver of clarity, a brief glimpse of peace. It wasn’t just about solving the case—it was about confronting the storm within himself. He had faced it before, and he could face it again. If he would just get through the day without thinking of getting high. He could solve the case and act like it never happened.

Sadly, he was wrong. The kidnapping and victims stopped, and the trail has gone cold. They hadn't found the unsub. And with no body, they had nothing to go on. The case got put on the backburner for now. If any suspicious things were to happen, they could get right back and complete the investigation.

For now, Spencer got to go home and was ordered by Hotch to take a couple of days off. The others had noticed Spencer was completely unfocused, and they could see in his eyes something was wrong.

He just didn't want to tell them. Besides the shame he felt, the risk of losing his job scared him even more. Even if they promised he could keep his job, Spencer had always been someone who tried to bury his emotions deep. The brokenness of his past, the pain from his failed relationships, and his constant battle with his insecurities—they were all wrapped up in a neat little package he’d locked away. But the case was digging things up, forcing him to confront those old ghosts. He had spent so long pushing the pain of his past to the back of his mind, but now, with this case, everything felt too close, too personal. The only answer he could think about was to numb himself instead of fighting against it.

As soon as they landed and were allowed to leave, he sneaked to the office bathroom. He knew if anyone saw him, they would try to talk to him, and he knew he was a bad liar. His body was screaming for the drugs. Like he was in physical pain without it. He tried to tell himself that it would be just this one time. As soon as he got home, he would throw the remaining vials away. His hands trembled as he finally gave himself what he had been craving for days. The second he started feeling the effects, it was like his mind could finally relax.

The ride home felt like a blur. He was happy his body knew what to do because his mind wouldn't try to help. He could only think about the vials in his bag. Maybe he should throw them away; that is the right thing to do. Even if he knew it was the right thing to do, he knew all the statistics about addiction; he just couldn't. The need was overwhelming. The second Spencer got home, she stood up from the couch and hugged him. She had gotten a call from Garcia, telling her something was going on with Spencer, and they didn't know how to help. So it didn't surprise her he didn’t hug her back. Normally they would hug and kiss, and she would start the kettle for some tea. Instead, Spencer pushed past her and murmured something about needing to be alone in the bathroom.

Spencer sat in the corner of his small, dimly lit bathroom, his back pressed against the cold, cracked wall. The air felt heavy, thick with the weight of his decisions. It had been 3 hours since his last hit, but the craving still gnawed at him, relentless and insistent. His body trembled slightly, not from the cold but from the withdrawal that was starting to set in. He rubbed his hands together nervously, the skin on his fingers raw. He tried to remember a time before the drugs, before the haze of smoke and the numbness that had slowly overtaken every part of his life again. There was a time, wasn't there? A time when he had dreams—dreams of a future, a family, of something better than this broken shell of a man sitting in a dark room, wasting away. But those dreams had long been buried under layers of lies, the terrible things he saw every day at his work, bad decisions, and moments where the drugs had promised an escape, a way out from the pain he couldn't bear to face.

He thought he was secretive about it all, but the drugs made him less focused, and she had found the vials in his sock drawer. After a screaming match, one-sided, his temper had gotten really bad; he pushed her out of the apartment. She didn't have a key to get back in, and frankly, she was really hurt by the things he yelled at her. Somewhere she knew that it was the drugs talking, but when the words are coming out of the person she loves and trusts the most, it's difficult to remember. She had spent the night at a friend's place and tried to call him. After the seventh attempt, he finally picked up. They agreed to speak with each other and try to work their way forward with the situation.

Every time he'd promised her, "This is the last one," it was never the last one. There was always a reason to come back. Always another moment that seemed to justify it, like a light at the end of a tunnel that never quite got any closer. His phone buzzed, the screen lighting up in the gloom. A text message. His heart skipped, but when he saw her name, he froze. It had been days since he had heard from her. He once again blamed her for all his problems and told her to leave him alone. She was one of the few people who still cared, still believed in him when he couldn’t even believe in himself. She had begged him to listen to her, to go see a therapist, to get clean. She had promised she would be with him every step of the way, that things would get better, that they could start over, but he had pushed her away. It was easier that way—keeping her at arm's length so she wouldn’t see the darkness that had taken root in him. It also enabled him to keep going with his terrible habit. Every time something small, as simple as him running out of coffee, was an excuse to use.

He opened the message. "Spencer, I know you’re struggling, but I haven’t given up on you. Please, reach out. I miss you. I want to help you.” The words felt like a punch to the gut. He could almost hear her voice in his head, that familiar, pleading tone she always used when she wanted him to do better. When she still believed in him. For a moment, Spencer’s eyes welled with tears. He wanted to call her. He wanted to reach out, to tell her he was sorry, that he had messed up again, but the thought of disappointing her—of failing her, yet again—was too much to bear.

The phone buzzed again. A second message from her. "I know you're scared. I know it's hard. But I'm here. You’re not alone." Spencer closed his eyes, trying to block the tears, the guilt, the weight of all that had passed. He had promised her he would stay clean. He had promised her so many things, but each time, he had failed. And now, here he was, on the brink of falling again, the craving overwhelming him, calling his name like an old lover, sweet and familiar.

He could almost feel the substance in his veins, the rush of relief that would come with just one more hit. His mind begged for it; his body screamed for it. But then, as if in a distant echo, he heard her voice again, not the soft, pleading one from the message, but the one from before. The one full of hope. "I’m here. You’re not alone." Spencer opened his eyes and looked around the room, his gaze settling on the needle lying on the floor, the remnants of his last fix still fresh in his memory. He felt a cold sweat forming on the back of his neck. He knew, deep down, that this was the moment. The moment that would decide everything

He reached for his phone, his fingers trembling. Slowly, he typed a response. "I’m sorry. I’ve messed up. I don’t know if I can do this anymore...".

---READERS POV---

She never thought there was an ‘after Spencer.’. Her life was divided into two simple categories: before and during Spencer. ‘’The drought was the very worst.’’ She didn't truly know how deep her love for Spencer was. When all of it suddenly fell away, she was left with this feeling of emptiness. Actually, her love for Spencer wasn’t gone; it was pushed away because of the drugs. If it wasn’t for the dilaudid, she would never have felt this way.

She stood in the middle of the room, her new bedroom. After the breakup, she needed a new place to live. It had been weird living alone after so long. All of her stuff was still in moving boxes. As she had the day off, she started to make her way through the ‘photo and memorabilia' box. She picked up the first thing that drew her attention; it was a bunch of photos of her and Spencer. As hurt and angry as she was, she didn’t want to throw them away. Staring at the faded photographs scattered across the floor. Each one, a snapshot of a time she couldn’t quite bring herself to forget. ”When the flowers that we'd grown together"—both literal and metaphorical—"died of thirst" , suffocated by the drought.

“It was months and months of back and forth.” For months, they’d danced around the real problem. Pushing and pulling each other, like the ebb and flow of a tide that could never quite settle. But now, in the silence of her apartment, the air was thick with the memories of him. They lingered, “You're still all over me. Like a wine-stained dress I can't wear anymore”, no matter how hard she tried. His scent was still on her skin, even though he’d been gone for what felt like an eternity. The argument that had broken them was a storm in itself, full of vicious words and unsaid things, leaving them both drowning in the wreckage.

His words were clear: “I can’t do this anymore…”. She never thought he would rather push her away than try to fight it with her. She had stayed longer than she should have, trying to salvage something that was already decided. He wasn’t going to budge; no matter what she said, he had already made up his mind. “Hung my head as I lost the war.” The slow, suffocating realization that there was no way out; they couldn’t keep doing this, the constant fighting. They were both slowly withering under the weight of what they’d become.

“And the sky turned black like a perfect storm.” She sighed, her fingers brushing the edges of the photographs. He was everywhere—his laughter, his touch, the promises they had made in the quiet of the night. With every passing day. The weight of it all was crushing her, suffocating her. She turned away from the pictures and instead grabbed a shoebox. Filled with dried flowers, ticket stubs, and letters.

She moved to the couch, holding the overflowing shoebox in her lap. She almost forgot she had opened the window, the cold night air rushing in, bringing with it the smell of rain. The rain she had been waiting for—the hurt she needed to wash everything away. Her chest was tight, her breath shallow as she looked away for the items; she couldn’t even look at him. All she saw was the anger on his face. She started to feel suffocated; she needed air. As she leaned out of the window, into the dark, the floodgates opened. “Rain came pouring down.” It felt like everything inside her was being pulled out into the storm of emotion she couldn’t name yet. “When I was drowning, that's when I could finally breathe.”

“And by morning, gone was any trace of you.” After crying the entire night, she felt a little bit better. Not enough to go outside and do something productive, but like take a shower and watch TV. Letting all her anger and sadness out helped for a little while. The space in the room felt empty, but for the first time in a long time, it was quiet. She was no longer suffocating on the echoing words he yelled at her. She looked around, and for the first time in what felt like forever, she could breathe.

“There was nothing left to do.” All she could do was wait, wait for him to reach out or to hear from his team. She didn't know where she stood on his list of priorities. Of course getting sober was number one, but her place? Over a couple of days, the anger came back. Hearing absolutely nothing about what is happening drove her crazy. It was like the walls were closing in on her after a week of silence.

“So I punched a hole in the roof” the force of the hit rattling her bones. The hole in the drywall seemed to echo her internal chaos.

“The water filled my lungs; I screamed so loud.” Her cries for help could be heard everywhere she went. Work, the grocery store, even as she walked past their favorite coffee shop. It was clear to anyone who saw or spoke with her that she was in pain.

“But no one heard a thing.” No one said anything, not her friends, family, or coworkers. Maybe they really didn’t see what kind of internal battle she’s fighting. It still hurts, losing not only the love of her life but also having to go through the grieving process of her own, the five stages on repeat.

Denial, it wasn’t a real breakup, right? He was as high as a kite when he told her. Anger, how dare he decide what’s best for them? He had no right shoving her away. Bargaining, maybe if she was better at noticing the signs, she could have helped him on time. It was all her fault; she should bet she's the one that’s addicted. Not him, not sweet and caring Spencer. Depression, maybe their time was simply over. Fate had decided that they couldn’t stay together, no matter how much they loved each other. Acceptance, maybe this all is for the better. Spencer was right; they couldn’t do this anymore. There were too many problems, and they needed help to solve them. Just not each other's.

Two months had passed since she’d walked away from him, from everything they had built. Or better said, pushed away. Two months of crying and worrying about Spencer. She knew he had good friends, that they were going to help him when she couldn’t. But it still hurts. Sometimes when she’s feeling really depressed, she starts blaming herself. She should have noticed something was going on with Spencer if only she had recognized the signs. Maybe if she had alerted his friends earlier, it wouldn’t have gotten this bad.

After almost 10 months of heartbreak, she got the good news. Spencer is back from rehab. She didn’t know what to do; would he want to see her? Maybe not; she’s the one that sent him to rehab. Maybe deep down he had meant it when he said he couldn’t do it anymore. There still was a sliver of hope he did want to see her, maybe talk about everything. She waited two months to take time for herself. Yes, she wasn’t the one that got addicted and was sent to rehab; but it still took a toll on her. The constant fighting, sleepless nights, and the constant dread that he was going to die. Two months of rebuilding herself, of facing the parts of her that she had neglected while caring for him. Needs that she had buried for so long. But she knew that just because he was clean didn’t mean it was going to be easy.

She had no idea where to start; did they reconnect and pick right up before everything went down? When she missed him, did she miss clean, sober Spencer? Or what he had become? She had promised him that she would love every version of him, and she did. But it was hard. There were days when she missed him, when the ache of his absence felt like a void in her chest.

But she wasn’t going back right the second he came back from rehab. She wasn’t going to risk it again, too soon. She had fought too hard to get here, to this place of peace, to let it all slip away again.

--- 1 YEAR AFTER THE BREAK UP ---

As he sat at his desk, wrapping up the last of his work for the evening, his phone buzzed. He glanced at the message, his heart stuttering at the sight of a name he hadn’t expected.

It was a text from her. “I’m here if you ever want to talk. I’ve missed you.”

Spencer stared at the message for a long time, his fingers hovering over the screen. It felt like a lifeline, an invitation to something he had been avoiding for so long—connection, vulnerability, truth. He could feel his heart racing, the familiar anxiety creeping up his spine. He had pushed her away before, convinced her that he didn't need her, want her. He told himself that he wasn’t worthy of her love or support.

Nobody told him, but he knew it was her that signed him up for rehab. The memory of the moment he got picked up will haunt him forever. He was lying on his couch, the apartment completely silent. He awoke by a loud knock on his door. His entire body felt numb. It was almost too much for him to walk a straight line to answer the door. He didn't remember to check through the peephole. Behind the door stood Morgan, JJ, and two men he didn't recognize. They tried to tell him they were worried and were here to take him to a rehab center outside of Virginia. The second he realized what it meant, he started to protest. “You can’t make me leave!”. But it fell on deaf ears. Looking back on it, it was probably the same way his mother felt when he told her she had to get institutionalized.

After his flashback, he looked back at his phone. Reading the words, he realized that maybe it was time to stop running. Maybe it was time to clean up the mess he had made of his life. With a shaky breath, he typed his response. “I miss you too. I’m sorry. I think I’m ready to talk.” He hit send, and for the first time in a long while, Spencer felt like he had finally taken the first step toward healing. He knew that physically, he was fine again. But mentally he didn't know where to start. For a second he worried that he would hurt you all over again, but you missed him and wanted to see him. He could also apologize and thank her for saving him. He wasn’t sure where this path would lead, but it was a start. And in that moment, with the rain still falling softly outside, Spencer Reid finally felt like he could breathe again.

By the time he got home, Spencer felt a shift within himself. Yes, he was no longer an official agent; he was a consultant now. The team had successfully closed another case. It gave him a good feeling; he felt useful again after letting the team down when he was high out of his mind.

Looking in his bathroom mirror, it was a reflection of him he slowly started to recognize again. He had gone through the worst moments of his life. Blaming everyone and everything, and yet, he realized he had always been his own jailer. It wasn’t just the cases, drugs, or his relationships. It was him, the way he tried to work through his problems.

He was anxious to see her again after so long. He knew she wouldn't hold him to too high expectations; still, he felt like he wasn't good enough to see her. But the need for her, her touch, her comfort, was bigger, and with the new motivation, he went to try and sleep a full night.

He found out that the idea of seeing her again made him so happy; his mind and body finally relaxed enough, and he could sleep. It was Saturday, and he knew he wouldn't get called in and agreed to meet up around one pm, so for the first time in months, he took the time to get himself ready. He wanted to make sure he was the best version of himself when he saw her again. It took him almost two hours to shower, get dressed, and eat. On his way to the small cafe around the corner, he reminded himself that he should bring something for her. He wanted it to be something special but not too much, so a bouquet of her favorite flowers would do it, of course with a handwritten note.

Before he entered the cafe, he saw her sitting through the windows. She looked nervous; he could see it in the way she would play with her hands, something to distract her. He took a deep breath and walked in. The bell above the door rang, and she looked up from her notebook. There he was; he looked healthier and happier than she remembered. It made her tear up a bit. That all the pain and suffering she went through was not for nothing.

She looked at him with big eyes, trying to take him all in. The way he had styled his hair, his awkward smile, and his mismatched socks. He looked like him again. And for the first time in a long while, he felt like him again. He knew he would never be the same again, but he didn’t feel the crushing weight of the world on his shoulders right now. Instead, there was a small flicker of something—hope, maybe. He wasn’t sure yet if it was enough, but for the first time in what felt like forever, he had reached out.

The conversation started awkward and difficult. Neither of them knew how to start. So Spencer did the thing he did best, and what she loved about him; he started reciting some statistics about recovery. It made her give a small smile, the knowledge that deep down he still was her Spencer. They talked about what had happened during the breakup, how Spencer got sent to rehab, what happened to his job, his therapy, and what he wants to do now. He told her what his therapist recommended to him: to tell yourself every day a fact about your recovery. "Ten months sober, I must admit. Just because you're clean, don't mean you don't miss it." The whole accepting part that he still was an addict was difficult. But he knew he couldn’t go back. “Ten months older, I won't give in. Now that I'm clean, I'm never going to risk it.” The most important thing for him to tell her was how sorry he was for everything that had happened. How grateful he is for her, how she saved his life. He got silent for a second, gathered all his thoughts, and asked her. “What do you want to do about us now?”

A few seconds passed before her reply came. "I’m here. If you want me to be. We’ll get through this together." And for the first time in so long, Spencer felt something he hadn’t allowed himself to feel in years. A flicker of light in the dark, he felt the start of getting clean. They both cried a bit and laughed about it. Happy tears that their love was so strong, it could even survive what happened in the last year, as long as they have each other.

The second those words left her lips, she knew she wasn’t angry anymore. Not at him or the words he yelled. The confirmation that he wanted to keep talking with her released the anger, doubt, and sadness that followed her around. It was like a weight was lifted off her shoulders. “Said, I think I am finally clean.”

He walked her home that evening. It reminded him of their first date. All the nerves and excitement coursing through him. Now he still felt those, but now they were added with a heavy layer of doubt. Doubt that everything would be good again. Those feelings were better to discuss another time. Both had had enough emotions for one day; maybe they could have dinner next time.

Maybe he wasn’t entirely there yet. But he was on the road. And for the first time in a long while, that was enough.

Monday after 5 pm Spencer walked out of the office, stepping into the night air, feeling the cool breeze on his face. He had made a promise to himself—to be better, to let go of the past. The road ahead wasn’t going to be easy. But for the first time in a long while, he felt like he wasn’t alone.

And as he glanced at his phone one more time, a message from her flashing on the screen, he knew he wasn’t. “You’re not alone, Spencer. We’ll get through this. Together. I’ll see you at 7.” He smiled to himself; the words kept repeating in his mind. The storm within him was subsiding. And maybe, just maybe, “Think I'm finally clean.”

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