#tw fear of miscarriage

[dykedvonte]

I think the only real happy ending scenarios in Mouthwashing are where Anya doesn’t keep the pregnancy. Like not just not keeping the baby but not caring it to term.

In all the scenarios I’ve seen it’s always about how she regains her automy while living with what happened to her with the baby as a representation of learning to move past it but it’s cheap. She also doesn’t want the pregnancy, she says it directly right before she kills herself. Keeping it would forever tie her to him in her mind as an awful little thing that she would also have the guilt of hating. This hypothetical child would have done nothing itself to garner her hate but it is of the person she hates. The person that tried to strip her of her personhood.

I think the focus of a happy end in Mouthwashing bypasses the point there was never an easy happy way or end out of this. In a world where Curly did something, Anya still has to grapple with her pregnancy and being trapped on the ship. The rape never happened? Jimmy still would’ve inevitably lost it and tried to do something to escape any responsibility he was going back to. They were all still getting laid off despite if Curly told them or not. There is no way this ends happy or even bittersweet for most of them because of circumstances before and after we know of or are alluded to.

The question posed should really be about what would someone do to reclaim agency? To make someone understand how they feel/felt through expressing what they weren’t to before?

[heirbane]

i am in a love/hate relationship with gaius after the sorrow of werlyt, in his ship with alta. because they do get pregnant. because he has buried four of his children and is being forced into fathering another from the moment they take their first breath.

gaius has only ever known three babes in his life. He had known of Cid, as Midas' marriage began to unravel, their son but a stream of piss on a pyre. He had known Varis' firstborn, the daughter that never woke. and he had known Zenos, the son that killed his own mother.

he had known of them. he had not raised them, despite his closeness to both midas (as his young side piece as his marriage dissolved) and varis, both men had done what rich garleans were wont to do: they entrusted their sons to wetnurses and tutors. even then, gaius had been but a fun, occasional visitor, the uncle that taught zenos how to wield a gun, the elder brother figure that cid's parents often squabbled over.

and then the woman he swore to kill brought life to him, and in his fear - in his anxious, traumatized, horrifically regretful wisdom - he tried to shun them, too.

he had been there for his children, and they had all perished. at least, he thought, cid and zenos had lived - and they had lived because he was not involved at all. because he had not touched them. because he had not wrapped them up in his arms and promised them succor.

or so he believed.

gaius danced around holding his firstborn for days. he had excuses. he had ways out. he had dread, because he had tried to win against the warrior of light before and failed, and she was not someone who would simply allow him this weakness.

at the end of it all, it wasn't even alta that forced his hand: it was allie, his one remaining daughter, the last one who remembered what it was like to have a home and an education and a family name but not a father.

[heireign]

meta question : how did her mother's death impact how she viewed her father ?

send me character development questions. ( @sinworn )

first, i don't think there's ever really any blame in regards to it when it comes to viserys purely because it's ? as a child the circumstances of it would have been so absurdly normalized that the only real red flags about it that would have impacted her views on him from it would have been the implications around the court that ' perhaps aemma had been bedded too young', and that being the reason for why she had the complications with her pregnancies that she did which, she may or may not have overheard at court - and if she did, i don't think at the time she would've entirely understood the implications of what that even meant. and there is also the likelihood she would not have even heard it at all unless she walked into a room unannounced or around a corridor to people discussing it, or it was being spoken about when she was believed to have been out of earshot -- i don't really believe that anyone would have purposefully said that infront of her, so it would have needed to have been something she accidentally overheard if she'd heard it at all.

i do believe she would have heard him call her his great joy, but that a brother was a brother, because he was said to have said often, which means she was more then likely in his presence to hear it at least once. the fact that he loves her was never a question, the fact that he valued and cherished her was never a question, but there's a precursor of feeling not quite enough that stems from the fact her parents doted on her as a child - how she was treated by them was not affected by the fact she wasn't a son, but the fact she wasn't quite the child they needed meant that her mother suffered, and above all she would have noticed how the pregnancies and subsequent losses continued to wear on her mother and how they affected her mother. she was effectively being treated as his heir, but she could never occupy that space, and that meant that viserys only had daemon as a successor, and no son to succeed him. and like the fact a girl could not succeed her father would have been wholly normal then, too. she would not have felt slighted for the throne as much as she would have felt wholly helpless that she could not help her parents who were struggling to fill this space and she was ? thinking that if only she had been born a son, maybe they would have been able to stop with trying with how badly her mother was being affected, with her as the heir and daemon as the spare. this is important because it's what largely impacts her feelings toward him when her mother dies and she's made his heir.

she's eight when aemma dies. he becomes infinitely more important in regards to her feelings of inner security and stability - because at that point he is the only parent that she has left. then she's made his heir and she's ? confused and a bit frustrated, and more then a little overwhelmed because it seems so completely pointless all of a sudden; because if she was worthy of being his heir now, she could have well been then, and then she would still have her mother. she doesn't even know how to want it at first because actually being content she had the position would feel too much as if she were celebrating a tragedy, that she was glad to have profited off of such a devastating loss and like, she wants to make him proud in turn. she doesn't want aemma to be remembered as someone who failed in her duties as a wife and queen. and if she's the heir, and if she actually somehow gets to sit her father's throne, then she won't have been. she would have given him a successor even if she wasn't male.

but like, it also incidentally changes the relatively close relationship she had with her father and makes it one that is two-fold. now she's not just his daughter, she's his heir. it makes things very stiff between the two of them for a while as she settles into the role. she's less inclined to display vulnerability around him due to fearing that he might find it too much for her, and take it. they can't quite talk as they used to due to the fact she's afraid that whatever she might say to him might make him upset and take it from her too - and after he remarries and begins to sire children with alicent her fear of being replaced personally manifests itself in a drive for her position - and this is because this is something she can actually tackle, and solidify her place in, and prove her worth in a way she has always struggled with personally because she has always been loved, but she's never been particularly useful in regarding to filling the place she now occupies. i think her proving that she is is her best attempts to both give her mother a legacy to be proud of ( one that speaks of not just success but actually something historic in her being the first queen regnant ) and solidify those anxieties with her father that she might be set aside in a personal sense, because for a while the notion of her being replaced in her position would have felt more then a little like an inevitability and less like something that may or may not happen. the security and comfort she would have derived from him as her only surviving parent rises and then it plummets again when she's made heir because she doesn't know how else to regain control of a very overwhelming situation that people are now looking at her in a whole different way because of. and there’s this whole new facet to their relationship that’s serious and scary and important and it’s nothing she wants and now it’s everything she wants because of what it could mean for her mother.

[verreprincesse]

As a child, after her parents passed away, Ella endured a lot of physical abuse from her stepfamily. She was told it was the only way to make sure she stayed in line. If she didn't finish a task on time or to her stepmother's approval she would be beaten and sent to bed without supper. If she was caught trying to eat just scraps she would be beaten again.

She did try running away one time and was brought back. The reason her stepmother kept her around was because she was ( mostly ) free labor. As long as she was fed, clothed, and had a bed she figured it was payment enough to serve them. For her disobedience, she was nearly choked to death by her stepmother.

She doesn't like showing her skin much, especially her back as that is where the majority of her scaring is, and the day she marries she is terrified of her spouse seeing the scars. She knows she is a broken person and knows that her spouse might be repulsed by what they might see. So she wears nightgowns that cover her well until her spouse makes her comfortable enough in her body.

In AUs where she marries well ( whether modern or fantasy/era ) she is still ridiculed and has been poisoned ( or in the case of @farspirit's and my AU, kidnapped ) a time or two because others don't see her as a worthy partner to her spouse.

Because of the beatings she's endured, she does have issues keeping her pregnancies and the miscarriages she endures put her into a depression for a time.

Through it all, though, she will still smile at you and help you.

This headcanon is true of my main, and of my AU with @farspirit and @diivineray

[fatummortem]

--- TJ's character info sheet.

(repost, don’t reblog)

name: Talia Josephine Wagner name meaning: Talia: Dew of God; Flourishing, blooming; Talia is a feminine name of Hebrew and Aramaic origins. Deriving from the Hebrew words tal, meaning “dew,” and yahweh, meaning “God,” Talia means “dew of God,”. Talia has numerous alternative spellings—including the Greek Thalia, meaning "flourishing" or "blooming"—all of which share the popular -ia ending. Josephine: The name Josephine is of Hebrew origin and means "Jehovah increases" or "He shall increase." It is the feminine version of Joseph, which is a variation of the Hebrew name Yosef, meaning “Jehovah increases.” (I would add the Wagner name but I got lost reading about the family crest) alias/es: TJ, Teej, Nocturne, occasionally called blue girl ethnicity: Caucasian, Indo-Aryan origin (Romani), Egyptian or Arab (possibly or whatever ethnicity Azazel is), (whatever ethnicity Raven Darkhölme is ) one picture you like: Have a panel (I like her with longer ears more tho)

three hcs you never told anyone:

TJ has shown a fondness for music at a young age, learning how to play the piano from her father Kurt, though she was encourage to learn the simpler songs because of her lack of digits, Talia stubbornly stuck with it until her fingers moved agilely over the keys, often using her tail to help her. Unfortunately she lost the skill after her stroke. Her left hand still moves over the keys swiftly but she often finds herself frustrated at the slowness of her right. She at times practices by herself but has since picked up the drums (various) instead.

Though TJ can produce a shield that now protects her from physic attacks, her mind palace is fairly similar to that of a Hard Rock or Death Metal band concert. First forcing intruders to bypass the gathered crowd or mash pit to reach the stage. Secondly forcing them to get past spikes (coming outward from the stage) to reach her. All the while every single instrument are playing off beat & off key while she's either singing or screaming off key herself on stage. A similar setting has been shown in comics twice. Once when the Shadow King tries to take over her mind (it took him 3 or 4 tries to succeed) & another in an alternate future where her mind was being repaired from being turned into a hound (the End). Both times Jean & Kurt were the ones journeying through the depths of her mind.

When in a fight she often switches between acrobatics similar to her father's, the hand-to-hand combat of her grandmother Raven & possessing her enemy to use their powers. After her stroke she's shifted to possessing someone to move more swiftly during combat. Though they're not as agile as she prefers.

AGE: Once a member of Exiles, TJ's aging stopped. Hank stating that they were put into a stasis outside of time (though she was able to get pregnant). Time between jumps to new realities could last anywhere from hours, weeks to years. Though she celebrated her 21st birthday once she was a member of the team she'll probably refer to herself as being in the mid-twenties. However, her age is more likely to be in her late-twenties to early-thirties. Though even remembering most of her time with the Exiles TJ can't pinpoint it closer as they traveled not just to different realities but through space & time as well.

Bonus: Currently working on flushing out her powers/abilities. Figuring out her limitations for her low-level Telepathy (it's more useful while she's possessing someone) & making it easier for myself to keep track of things. Immunity to teleportation sickness & her being able to use her hex bolts while near a dampener for instance.

three four things your character likes doing in their free time:

Song writing - TJ enjoys thinking up new songs, though writing them is a bit more difficult she continues to do so. She has various unfinished songs in a notebook (often within a side bag she travels with when she's moving from reality to reality.

Training- Used to the harsh training conditions of her home reality (she used to practice in the danger room on higher difficulties solo with her father present), TJ often trains when she's able to find the time or an area. Trying to increase the effectiveness of her weaker right side.

Listen to music - Tj often searches for new music when she reaches a new reality, adding it to her ipod if she's able. She'll often be surprised at differences in songs & the fact bands broke up.

Reading - Though reading isn't as easy for her as it used to be she often enjoys fairytales & folklore when she's taking a break from trying to reabsorb the different creation theories & Kabbalah.

eight people your character likes / loves:

Kurt Wagner - Though her relationship with her dad in her home reality was often strained before she became an Exile, TJ bonds quickly with the Kurt of Earth 616. His presence making her feel welcomed in the new reality. Often checking up on him when she's out of the country.

Wanda Maximoff - Though Wanda lived mainly in the Avengers mansion in her own reality, TJ grew up very close with her mother & greets every version she meets as if they're her birth mother.

Billy Kaplan/Tommy Shepard - TJ's reality is supposed to be a future alteration to 616, so I see them as her half siblings & I could see her taking the time to visit them before the exiles thing happen when she had time. Considering how often she trained it would have probably been once every few months, though there's a high chance she doesn't remember it at all.

Max Eisenhardt/Erik Lehnsherr/etc - After her stroke, TJ researched Erik, much like the rest of her family she had yet to run into on Earth 616. There's a high chance before that time, she easily fell into working with the Brotherhood for a short period of time, trying to run into him.

Raven Darkhölme - Unlike the rest of her family, Raven is probably the one that she's the most divided about. She struggles with this due to the fact that she tries not to judge people on past actions too heavily or actions that weren't their own. Her grandmother is someone TJ has to remind herself that she's not the one from her own reality & that venting her frustrations by yelling at her wouldn't serve a purpose. She would like to become close with another version of her. However, Talia's displacement or world's time displacement is due to Raven killing Kurt before he started dating Wanda. Leading to TJ's Earth being completely erased & no matter the original promise the Timebroker gave her, Talia will never find her original home.

John Proudstar (Deceased) - While traveling through realities, John & TJ became very close, fell in love & ended up retiring on a random reality together. They had their own struggles. John working through what Apocalypse did to him & TJ disliking it whenever John treated her similarly to James of her own Earth, but they found happiness for a time. He's the one person Talia found the easiest to remember & hardest to grieve as she's still in love with him. Unlike with her family, she has no desire to make connections with other versions of him in other realities.

Clarice Ferguson - Talia's closest friend on the Exiles team, the girls would often have fun relaxing on a beach or talking about the lighter things while they went from war zone chaos to mystery reality on the regular. While she was nearly as close to their teammate, Morph, TJ worries about Clarice the most though she doesn't show it.

Aunt Anna & Uncle Remy LeBeau - While on Earth 616 she grew closer to them than she did in her own reality. Even adapting a version of her Aunt's hair cut for a time. Talia at time tries to listen the mood by stopping by to dance on their ceiling or watching the classics.

two things your character regrets:

[Trigger Warning: miscarriage] Even though before it happened Talia spent nearly a month fighting in a gladiator prison (beating everyone to the point they ((the Skrulls)) started pitting her against flyers), having to face Galactus upon being freed, experiencing John self-sacrificing himself so she & their child would survive. Though it is unlikely she'll ever share it & most of the people who know are long gone, TJ blames herself for loosing their child after she finally has an emotional breakdown when she's forced to leave John in his hospital bed to go to another reality.

Taking things for granted - Memories, the easiness of gymnastics, walking, writing & reading. After her stroke she realizes she took a lot of them for granted as they came second nature to her.

two phobias your character has:

Being a Cripple

The inability to regain memories or relearn what she's lost

[sweetpascal]

— 𝐛𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐨𝐫

pairing: general marcus acacius x fem!reader

summary: unsure of whether or not your husband is alive leading his army's invasion, the only method of tranquility is by reaching into your past memories as a necessary distraction.

warnings: MINORS DNI, wife!reader and husband!marcus, mentions of TW: miscarriages, (probably incorrect) roman history, mentions of TW: blood and death, making love, sweet nicknames (carissima/me - dearest, dulcissima/me - sweetest, meum cor - my heart, melculum - my little honey), marcus has a big dick, creampies, tender softness, probably ooc marcus ??

wc: 4.4k

notes: oh booyyyyyyy. so we all collectively agree that general marcus is scrum-diddly-umptious ?? all the pics, videos, and gifs dropping does not ease my obsession. so.. i turned my obsession into a work of art for all of you to read ^.^ idk squat about the roman times, but i did do my best to research !! divider from @saradika-graphics 🤍

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follow @sweetpascal-notifs for future fic updates.

It seems like the days have been mixing in with each other the more time has passed. Unsure of which day started and which day ended, you lost track of time. It had been one month, maybe two at this point. The sun rose and set, the moon and stars following in tandem. It was almost like a dance. It was amusing, to say the least. It reminded you of your relationship with your husband. With the light color dress wraps and delicate gold jewelry you'd wear around your neck compared to his permanent scowl, it's clear to civilization who's the sun and who's the moon. But you both complement each other in more ways than one.

You're able to calm him down with a simple touch on his arm, causing his boisterous voice to quiet down and his heart to steady its pace. Marcus' presence looming behind you around others, everyone already knows how dangerous he can become if someone even looks at his wife the wrong way.

Now, without his presence and his voice and his touch, nothing feels real. Pacing around in the dining hall of your home, you rubbed your hands tenderly over your barely-there baby bump over your soft blue wrap dress that Marcus surprised you with the last time he had come home from a previous battle for more land. He had won, of course, because General Marcus Acacius never loses. The mere thought of him losing a battle led by him with his army in tow is one of your greatest fears as his wife.

Staying inside your home and wallowing in your fears was no good for you and your unborn child. You couldn't go through the stress of worrying after your husband and deal with another heartbreaking loss alone. The night that Marcus had come back, you had broken down in front of him, shakily telling him through your thick tears that you had lost your son.

"A son?" He had quietly asked you, his eyes wide and heartbreaking.

"The teller that settles by the river," you told him with a broken voice. "She had confirmed it with her readings."

You remember it clearly as day; the look on his face equivalent to that of a broken man. You had choked on your tears, begging for his forgiveness for not being more careful, for not being a dutiful mother that was supposed to protect their child. You had knelt down in front of him, grabbing his knees and pleading to him and the gods for forgiveness and punishment, your hands pressed together in a prayer.

"Carissima," he had whispered quietly to you, slowly getting down onto his knees to remove your tight hold on his dirtied pteruges. His hands, trembling and unsteady, tenderly hold your cheeks to look into your heartbroken eyes. "I shall never strike a hand upon you, need you deserve it or not. I shall never lay blame on something the gods have brutally stolen from us. Oh, my dearest wife." His last whisper had you gripping onto his arms and crying your heart out into his shoulder. He said nothing more, nothing else. On the ground that day, all he did was hold you, and that was more than what you needed.

Breaking out of that distressing memory, you busied yourself with around-the-house distractions. In your hands was a handmade wicker basket you had purchased at one of the markets. The owner was a sweet, older woman that knew of your reputation amongst the others. She always treated you with kindness and looked at you with excitement every time you came by and not fear. She also gifted you a handmade blanket sewn with intricate patterns of the moon and sun.

"I gift this to you as a thank you for your kindness," she had said, pushing the blanket further into your hands when you had protested. She lay a wrinkly finger against her lips and drooped her eye to a wink.

Stepping outside with the wicker basket in your arms, you traveled a short distance to a small pond with many bushes, trees, and delicate flowers all around. This was your happy place. And this was also where you and Marcus had made love for the first time so long ago. The tree, the rock, the patch of grass. All of it held a distinct memory of your first time. Thinking back to it brings a smile to your lips.

"Tell me to stop, and I will. Tell me to stop right now and I shall go back to where I rest and I will not pursue you any longer," Marcus had told you breathlessly against your jaw. He had you laid on the soft grass underneath the moon, the light shining against the pond in a way that makes the gentle movements look like glitter. Your dress was hiked up around your hips as he rested heavily between your trembling thighs, your hands squeezing on his strong biceps that flexed in response to your sizzling touch.

"Marcus," you sighed prettily in his ear, and it sounded like the sweetest song he has honor of ever hearing. "My need for you has not gone away. It will not go away unless you take me right here, under the moon and stars, until I'm singing for you in pleasure."

The look in his eyes was that of desperate hunger and wanton need. When he had slid himself into your cunt for the first time, all of your prayers to the gods have been finally answered. Marcus was made to be yours. And you were made to be his. Hushed moans and frantic thrusts, Marcus fucked like how others perceived himself – like a barbarian. Some women would disagree and find it appalling and dirty, but it was perfection. He wasn't scared to touch you. He touched you as though if he were to let go you would float away, for he would no longer be able to taste you on his tongue or feel your tight warmth wrapped around his thick cock.

A touch to your shoulder had you gasping and dropping the basket onto the ground. You spun around and laid a hand on your chest and one on your bump, staring at the poor maid that scared you accidentally.

"I deeply apologize for frightening you, miss," she stares at you with her hands up in defense as though she was staring at a frightening animal backed into a corner. "General Marcus has arrived and he asks for your presence in your bedroom."

"No, no, it's quite alright, dear. My head was in the clouds again," you offer her a gentle smile and a brief laugh, laying a hand lightly on her shoulder to ease her worries. "And Marcus, is he...?"

The young maid recognized your worry and shook her head as an answer to your unspoken question. You hand her the wicker basket of plucked fruits from the bushes and politely tell her to wash and ready them, and to bring them to your bedroom when the task is done. She nodded and hurried off immediately.

You carefully, but also hurriedly, made your way into your home. Nodding and giving polite smiles to the people inside, you walk up the spiral marble stairs. When you reached the top, there stood a statue of yourself sitting atop a stone with a statue of hour husband on his knees and his lips pressed to your knees. There were intricate details in the statue, like of Marcus' fingers gripping your thighs or the soft rolls of your body. Your husband preferred a large home such as this for his growing family. You preferred something quainter and more personal, but what your husband says, goes. You recognized his large, dirty footprints leading to your bedroom, another young maid already on her knees scrubbing the stains.

"Aureia, there's no need for that," you tut softly at the young girl, and she looks up at you with wide eyes. "Leave that alone for now, alright? As for this moment, will you please gather the others and bring pails of hot water for a bath?"

"Right away," she nodded and hurried off. It brings a smile to your face at how eager the young maids are to please. Unlike the other men and women that have maids in their homes, you treated yours like people. They respect you and in return, you respect them. Marcus used to disagree until he remembered how you grew up when it was just you and your widowed mother, along with the reputation of being poor. Realizing that you see yourself in these young maids, your husband made it a point to allow you to be in charge of them and do whatever you see fit. Having that much power can be overwhelming, only because of the fear of having your kind heart be taken advantage of. But those that work for and with you know to never cross you, for they'll have to deal with the consequences your husband has waiting for them.

When you entered your private bedroom, there he sat, still dressed from head to toe in his armor. He sits with his back facing the door, his sights focused on the large window that overlooks the garden which circles around the empty thermae. You slowly move around the bed and finally stand before him, essentially blocking his view of the window. Marcus doesn't look up at you just yet. So, you stay silent and let him do what he needs to, let him think what he needs to think.

His hands, still caked with dirt, grime, and dried blood, move up to your stomach. Your bump is within his line of sight. Both of his hands rest on either side, feeling the firmness and shape of the bump. You watch as his eyes shut and his jaw clenches. His face was also caked with dirt, grime, and dried blood. The ends of his hair are curled with sweat from the heat of his long journey back home to his family. Marcus says nothing when you stroke his jaw silently. Neither of you register the door opening and four maids coming in one by one to empty two pails each of hot water into the tub that sits in the corner of the room. They know better than to interrupt.

When the door shuts, Marcus moves to rest his head against your bump. His ear is pressed into your soft flesh through the dress adorning your body. He can faintly hear the thumping of your heart and that brings him back down to earth, back home to you. Your hands, warm and gentle, card through his messy, graying curls. Damp with dirt and sweat, you don't care. Feeling him right here, right now, was all that mattered.

"It's over," he finally speaks, his voice rough and low. His hands move down to find a home on your wide hips, fingers just barely digging into the shape. "The war is over. I made sure of it." And he leaves it at that.

Your eyes shut and you let out a sigh of mixed relief and heartache. You couldn't imagine what your husband had to go through, as a leader, to make sure that he and his army of men make it out alive. You couldn't imagine the number of bodies that are lying out there, hundreds of miles away, torn apart and bled out, mangled flesh and bone. You couldn't imagine your husband possibly being one of them. Bending down as best as you could, you tenderly wrapped your arms around his broad shoulders and kissed the back of his head. You briefly sniffed his hair and pulled back.

"Let's get you inside the bath, hm?" You whispered softly, hands lovingly scratching at his scruffy jaw as you pulled his head up to look into your eyes.

When he stands, you almost forgot how imposing he was. His height was a strong factor. The bloodied armor he wears makes him look much broader and more dangerous. The exhausted look on his face makes him look much more mean – evil, even. But he's neither of those things, at least not to you. He stands as still as a tree as you begin to unclip and pull off his armor one by one. From the thick leather chest plate bound with protective metal underneath, all the way down to the thick leather arm-wear covering his forearms. Unsheathing his sword from its belt, you unclip that from around his waist as well. Having done this a million times, it's muscle memory.

He stands before you, naked, dirty, and exhausted. You reach behind your neck and slowly untie your dress wrap. It pools at your feet, your naked body now on display for him to see after months apart. Marcus' eyes take in every detail. The delicacy of your collarbones, your perky breasts, the curve of your growing belly, the soft curls of your pubic hair, those thighs that Marcus loves being in between, all the way down to the dangling anklet he gifted you.

"Come on," you whisper softly and take his hand to lead him to the filled tub. Steam sits above the water and Marcus' aching muscles scream out to it.

He enters first, hissing at first from the heat but then moaning gruffly once he sinks further into the hot water. Almost immediately, his sore muscles begin to relax. He could fall asleep right this instant. He feels a gentle push on his shoulder. He scoots forward and allows you to enter behind him.

"What are you doing, dear wife?" He doesn't hear an answer to his question. He's about to turn his body, but then he feels your hands massaging his tender scalp and washing his dirty hair. His eyes shut almost instantly, and he groans huskily with parted lips.

You wanted to laugh at his reaction but decided against it. Marcus never had time to relax and wind down. He was always on his feet, always discussing the next steps of battle, always readying his army men with hardcore training. It pained you to see him like this, especially at a distance. He never wanted you around to witness his leadership. Not wanting to induce stress onto you early on in your pregnancy, not wanting a repeat of your last pregnancy, he had given you strict instructions to let him handle everything.

"Meum cor, you do so good with taking care of your husband," Marcus quietly tells him, his entire body shuddering when your nails tenderly scrape the sensitive parts of his scalp. "I know the other men are envious of the treatment I receive from such a divine woman."

"Mm, I know, my love," softly laughing at his goading. You reached over the side of the tub to grab a small wooden bowl. Using that to pour water onto his soapy curls, you gently tipped his head back and did just that. You kissed the side of his head and gently cleaned away the dirt and grime on his beautifully tan skin. You paid extra attention by lovingly kissing the scar on his right cheek.

For the next hour, you put all your focus into washing his body. No longer was he a filthy barbarian. No, he was now your clean, fresh smelling husband. His damp hair curled elegantly behind his ears and neck. You had maneuvered onto his lap to focus on his front. There were more prominent bruises on his chest and arms, as well as some cuts that have begun its healing process. You gave him a small pout, to which he tuts and lovingly cups your chin between his thumb and forefinger.

"I could ride into the sun and still come back to you in one piece, meum cor," he tells you quietly, moving his face much closer and shifting you to sit comfortably on his lap. "No man, no sword, no army could ever strike me down and take me from you."

Holding onto his scruffy jaw and peering into those dark chocolate eyes of his, he looks at you with such tenderness that no stranger will ever witness. Your bump is resting against his own stomach, and he feels every breath you exhale. Heads lean closer, his aquiline nose resting on the side of yours, lips just a hair away. There's distant chatter outside in the gardens, the curtains swaying gently from the warm breeze coming through the open windows. The water in the tub is still warm and steaming, the clearness of it was now murky from the dirt you cleaned from his aching body. You have half a mind to drain the tub and call out for more pails of fresh hot water, but you're so comfortable and safe in the arms of your husband.

"Do you recall the night I took you underneath the stars?" Marcus asks you huskily, both hands gripping your hips, strong fingers digging into your plushy flesh. He forces your hips closer to his, thick thighs tensing underneath your own. "The way you begged me to keep going, even when it began to rain down upon us."

Your lips parted to elicit a soft gasp when you felt his hardness on your thigh, thickening and rising with each second that passed. You do remember that night like it was yesterday. The soft rain pattering on your naked, writhing bodies. Your nails had dug deep into his skin to keep him from moving away. You had cried out to the gods for more, more, more.

"I do believe I may have scars from those nails of yours," Marcus joked lightly against your jaw, pressing a kiss to the bone with his plush lips.

Giggling quietly in his ear, you held his head close to your chest as his kisses traveled south. "I do believe you're creating tales, carissime."

He hums disapprovingly, holding you tighter on his lap when you shift. The steam from the water made his skin feel sticky and warm. You tasted salt on your tongue when you kissed below his ear. It was intoxicating, to say the least. Tasting him, trailing your tongue all over his molten hot skin, licking over his scars and freckles. There was a quiet minute when you both looked into each other's eyes again. Marcus can see the light hasn't died. He can see the adoration you have for him in the way your pupils dilate, and breathing quicken. And you can feel the love Marcus has for you in the way his eyes get slightly wide as he takes in your features, most likely mapping out which ones he hopes your unborn child takes from the both of you.

"Take us to bed, meum cor," you beg him. No longer able to keep looking at your handsome husband and not do anything about it, you leave it all up to him.

Without another word, Marcus stands with a hoarse grunt. With one strong arm wrapped tight (but not too tight) around your waist and his other hand under your thigh to keep you up and against his body, he steps over the tub and makes his way over to the bed. Neither of you care if your wet bodies are soaking the sheets. As he lays you down and rests on top of you, nothing else matters at this moment.

"Melculum, you look like a goddess with the sunlight kissing your naked skin," he whispers to you, lowering his head to kiss at your breasts and collarbones. You gasped and arched your back, further pressing your breasts into his mouth, to which he sucks a sensitive nipple between those lips.

Marcus rests on his forearms on either side of your head with his big hands tenderly cupping the crown. Your feet teasingly trail up and down the backs of his thighs, and you feel his hardness twitch between your bodies. Whispering his name in a needy voice, he looks up at you and catches the look in your half-lidded eyes. The flush on your skin makes your skin glow. He would never disrespect his gods and goddesses, but Aphrodite does have a competition on her hands.

Feeling too eager, you take charge and yank his neck down to finally kiss him. After months of not feeling his body, hands, and lips on yours, you powered all your emotions in this kiss. It was messy and desperate and hard. Tongue, teeth, garbled whimpers and heavy breaths. Marcus suckled at your bottom lip, letting it snap back against your teeth to then suck and bite at your neck. Your hips were shifting to slot his hard cock between the silky lips of your wet cunt. Grinding up and down, the thick vein that rests on his hardness glides easily against your swelling clit.

"Marcus," you weep quietly in his ear. "Oh, my husband. I need you more than life itself. Oh, you're the bravest, strongest soldier known to man. You're so... powerful, so dangerous. You keep your family and your people safe, my love." Saying this all while you're grinding your sweet cunt up and down the length of his hardness has Marcus growing erratic by the second.

He looks down between your bodies. Your cunt lips open like the blooming petals of the sweetest flower. The soft dark curls of your pubic hair rubbing against his own. Your small belly bump that keeps your unborn child safe and sound. Marcus uses his thumb to guide himself inside your cunt, breathing shallowly when the warm tightness sucks him in, inch by inch. Your mouth falls open to let out quiet, needy moans.

"There we go, melculum," Marcus grunts lowly in your ear, lowering his hips further down into yours and his thick cock slides deeper inside your leaking hole. The heat, wetness, and tightness of your cunt has him spiraling already. The knot in the pit of his stomach further unraveling the deeper he gets. "You were made for me," he breathes deeply, the heat of his breath fanning over your sensitive neck.

When he starts fucking into you, he was mindful to not rest his entire weight on your belly. He repositioned himself in a way that had his back curving to drive his hips deeper, faster, and harder into your own. The action had you arching and gasping. Your soft breasts and feet bounced gently from the movements. Marcus lovingly strokes down your temples with his thumbs and kisses you hard once again. Your fingers curl into his hair, now drying and curling beautifully. He looks like a god. It makes you want to cry. But then, his cock starts punching against the one spot that makes you scream.

"Oh! Marcus!" You yelped, eyebrows furrowed and lifted up as your mouth fell open and moans started pouring out. "Right there! Right... there. Ri-ight the-ere!"

He slows his thrusts until he's grinding so deep and so slow. Your moans turned into whimpers. He was able to hear the sloppy noises of your cunt soaking around his hardness. He grins down at you, his dimple deepening when you twitch and writhe.

"So beautiful," he whispers against your jaw. "So ethereal underneath me, writhing and begging for my cock." Marcus sharply drives his cock into your cunt unexpectedly. You let out a long, wanton wail that has his grin widening. He does it again, and again, and again. It was driving you absolutely crazy.

Your slick is most likely dripping out of your hole and onto Marcus' balls which slap against you. You can practically feel the weight of them, so heavy and full of two months' worth of cum. He drags his cock in and out of you slowly now, allowing you to feel every vein and every inch. Your thighs spread wide for him, eager for more. He answered your silent pleas and fucked you at a quicker pace again.

"Wrap your arms around me, Marcus. Oh, please, please, please!" You sobbed quietly, tears prickling at the corner of your eyes. He follows immediately. His strong arms wrap under your back and he rests some of his weight onto your front. Your thighs widen to accommodate his size, allowing his cock to nudge deeper in a way that steals your breath. "Just... like... that," you whimpered after each thrust Marcus gives.

He feels dizzy and overwhelmed in a good way. The smell of the homemade soap on your skin, the softness and warmth of your naked skin against his, your sweet moans like a pretty song in his ears, the slick tightness of your cunt sucking him in repeatedly. Feeling, smelling, and hearing all of these at once was enough to finally let him spill out his moans without holding back. His chest vibrates against your bare breasts with each grunt that passes his kissed-raw lips. The vibrations on your sensitive nipples tickled you erotically.

"You are intoxicating," he moans heavily against your sticky skin, his scruff scraping deliciously and his lips and teeth leaving little love bites. "Non possum satis de te." I cannot get enough of you.

With your eyes rolling back and your thighs trembling around his wide hips, you simply cannot control what your body does. Marcus catches you off guard by messily kissing you, his tongue intertwining with your own, tasting each other's saliva. The taste of him had you whining into his mouth. There was a faintness of wine on his tongue. Although you obviously couldn't drink while you bear his child, the lingering taste of it on your husband's tongue was enough to drive you wild. Your hands, originally placed on his shoulder blades, trail down to his tapered waist and finally cling onto his perky bottom. You squeeze the tender flesh and briefly dig your nails into the skin, feeling the muscles clench and unclench with every roll of his hips and cock driving into your cunt.

"Tu parum desperatus es, huh?" Marcus' voice sounded cocky and the grin on his face didn't help. You're a desperate little thing, huh?

One of the things that made your husband a respected leader was his arrogance was never wrongfully directed. He loved to gloat, about anything and everything. But when it came to you, his wife, his ego inflates to the point of popping.

That's when you felt it. The coil in the pit of your stomach gets tighter and tighter, forcing your gooey walls to twitch around Marcus' thickness. He moans lowly at the feeling of it. He hooks one of your thighs over his arm, bracing your knee into your chest to fuck you deeply. The position change had you shuddering, more slick leaking out and staining the sheets below your bodies.

"I'm... I'm... fuuuck!" With one final cry out to the gods, you scratched down Marcus' skin and braced yourself for impact.

Your orgasm washed over you like one of the strongest ocean waves known to man. Your body wouldn't stop twitching and writhing underneath his massive body. The squeezing tightness of your cunt wouldn't let your husband fuck you any longer. He drops down and lets out a final rough grunt before spilling inside of you. He has a entire body shiver as his cock twitches repeatedly, his thick cum spilling out every few seconds. It finally stopped after a whole minute; yes, you were counting. The tickle of his cum hitting you deep inside had you giggling drowsily.

"You should be thanking your husband for giving you a well-needed release, not laughing at him," he hums against your skin, the vibrations of his voice and bristles of his scruff tickling you further, causing you to laugh louder. He feels your belly jumping from your shaking body and he can't help but to smile.

Being in the arms of his wife after a long journey of war and death, there really is no place like home.

[aphroditelovesu]

Hello, can you do a headcannon Yandere (father) King Henry and Yandere (mother) Anna Boleyn with their only surviving son?

❝ 👑 — lady l: I really like the idea of ​​them being platonic yanderes for a son, so I hope you like it! Forgive me for any mistakes and good reading! ❤️

❝tw: obsessive and possessive behavior, overprotection, mention of miscarriages, murder and implied cheating and toxic relationships.

❝👑pairing: platonic yandere!henry viii/anne boleyn x son!reader.

Anne was desperate to conceive a male heir, her only hope of staying alive and maintaining the interest of the King who, after some miscarriages and the birth of a daughter, has already began to wander towards one of her ladies-in-waiting.

So when she discovered a new pregnancy, she desperately prayed for a son and that she wouldn't suffer another miscarriage. She could not bear the loss and pain. Henry was pleased with the new pregnancy, but worried. Anne had already had several miscarriages and was only able to produce one healthy child, a daughter.

Anne took great care of herself during her pregnancy, taking care of what she ate and drank and trying to maintain good health. The first few months were the most tense, with fear enveloping both Anne and Henry. As the pregnancy progressed and there was no miscarriage, Anne became more confident.

When the day finally arrived to give birth, she was anxious. Henry was also anxious and he was so nervous when he heard Anne screaming outside the room, he didn't know what to think. When a baby's cries finally came after what seemed like hours, he entered the room.

Anne held her baby on her lap and cried softly and when a doctor approached Henry and said, "Congratulations, Your Majesty. You have an heir", it was the first time that Henry felt complete happiness. When he picked you up, he was smiling from ear to ear. Not only were you the much-desired male heir but you also saved your mother's head.

Both of them would be extremely overprotective of their only son and those close to you will be scrutinized. Henry has become very paranoid about your safety and takes every precaution possible.

You are always by your mother or father's side, you cannot be alone at any time with a stranger. Anne, especially, would like to keep you sewn to her side all the time. She cares about you a lot and is always checking up on you. When you get sick, she becomes paranoid that you will die.

You are your parents' greatest pride and Henry doesn't try to hide it. He neglects all his other children and gives you all his love and affection. He takes you for walks, hunting and spoils you with all the perks that a future King deserves. In addition to showing you off before the Court. After all, you are the future King.

They are both very proud of anything you do. Any milestone, no matter how small, will be applauded by them. Your first words, the first time you walked and everything else will be treated with great celebration. Expensive parties are thrown in your honor all the time.

As you grow up, they become even more overprotective and controlling. Anne does not want you to leave the Court under any circumstances and Henry allows you to do so, but only with many guards. There were many threats lurking and they couldn't let anything happen to you. May God forbid anything from happening to you as the results will be disastrous.

Anne hates it when you spend time with other people, especially if they are women. The only women you need in your life are your mother and your older sister, Elizabeth. Although she understands that's a part of a man's life, she still doesn't like it and any potential mistress or love interest will be dealt with quickly. She is your mother, so no one has more right to you than her.

Henry is more than aware of his wife's actions and although he doesn't encourage them, he doesn't reprimand her. In fact, he's probably the one who encourages you to enjoy your life even if it always leads to fights with Anne. It was worth it when you looked happy. And your happiness is very important to him.

Your potential friends will be scrutinized and if your parents don't like them, they will leave. Henry and Anne won't sentence them to death at first, but if you or they are stubborn, they will be tried for treason. Don't you understand that you shouldn't trust anyone other than your own family? Your parents are the only ones who want the best for you.

Henry and Anne are smothering and protective parents but they only have your best interests at heart. They want you to live a full and happy life, but with them by your side. You were everything they both wanted and they would be damned if they let anything happen to you. England still does not know the fury of its monarchs nor the overwhelming love they feel for their only son.

[allfearstofallto]

hii! can i make a request?

I've been thinking about angsty things a bit. say if, reader got pregnant, would she hate it? how would scara/childe react? in my opinion, id like to think that scara thinks of this as a way to tie her down to him more, plus its canon he likes kids!! and as for childe i think he'd be very very happy since he has soooo many siblings, (maybe he wants a lot of kids too??)

and..what if reader miscarried? i have this thought of where scara would still be cold to her but give her breaks and more space than usual, but what if reader completely locks herself in and then when he confronts her about it they get into a huge argument, how would scara tackle that, would he resort to abusive tactics and would it increase readers hatred & distance more?

just a brainrot, you dont have to write about it if you're not comfy^_^

This took me so so so long!! I'm so sorry if you were waiting for it!!

I don't typically write for things like pregnancy because it makes me uncomfortable, but I'd be lying if I said I do not absolutely fucking adore angst and hopelessness.

Parasite

Yandere! Scaramouche x Fem! Reader

Forced Marriage AU

TW: 18+ MDNI, Dark Content, Forced marriage, Pregnancy, Miscarriage, Mentions of Dub/Non-Con

A week late turned into two. Two turned into a month. A month turned into three. And three turned into unusual cravings for foods that didn't go together. Sickness and vomiting clouded the hours of your mornings. Dread filled your body the second you realized what this was. Stress makes your cycles late, you told yourself, stress makes your entire body change, and this was a stressful situation, but stress wasn't causing this, was it?

Scaramouche could tell the changes in you immediately. As someone who constantly kept tabs on your life, it was only fair to assume that he'd noticed your slight fluctuation in weight and lack of asking for your monthly cloths. When you were called into his office, you felt a hot flash all over your body, you assumed it was fear, but it could've also been nausea.

His office was a place filled with dread. The air in the room was too thick and worst of all, he was there. The room made you feel small, the only good thing about it was that he was usually too focused on his mile high stacks of paperwork. Except today. Today his razor sharp gaze was focused on your trembling form as you bowed to him, his eyes following down, then back up.

“Answer me honestly,” he began, hands planted on the wood in front of him, “Are you with child?”

If you could throw up again, you would. Of course, you knew all this time, but you never wanted to say it. You hoped, just hoped and prayed that maybe if you never acknowledged it, it would all go away. It would all be a bad dream. But it was true. There was something disgusting living inside you. And it was his.

“I believe so, my lord,” the words couldn't even completely fall from your lips before you were a blubbering, sobbing mess of anguish and fear. Despite the fact that you were completely breaking down before him, he had a small smile on his face, like he was proud of what he'd done to you.

“That's good,” he said calmly, wiping away your tears and planting a forced kiss upon your face. His touch felt cold as ice, but his hands against you made you want to melt your skin away.

The reaction to the “good news” was immediate, whether that was good or bad was up in the air, but everything changed. The tight obi of all the kimono you owned would put too much pressure on your budding stomach, new one's were ordered to be ready as you grew more in size. Your diet was changed completely, less of the Inazuma raw delicacies and more lean meat and vegetables. Daily classes of calligraphy and tea ceremonies were switched to resting with your feet up or light stretching, everything to keep you happy and healthy during your pregnancy.

The biggest change was Scaramouche himself. A man filled with so much hatred and disgust, was suddenly being kinder. Or trying to at least. You watch him open his mouth to make a comment, only to shut it again in favor of saying something still rude, but less insulting.

The Scaramouche that believed that he could take your body whenever he pleased was long gone, even though that was what got you in this predicament in the first place. He'd taken to leaving you in the middle of the night and going to the bathroom to sate his urges. He'd come back with cold damp hands and lay next to you, a protective hand over your stomach as he kissed your cheek and told you how much he loved you.

The day you saw blood between your legs and felt an aching pain in your stomach was a joyous one indeed. A part of you wanted to scream out in glee, but you didn't want to wake your already on edge husband. The blood that coated your fingers could only mean one thing. One good thing. It was gone. You were free of it. Almost immediately, the dark air that seemed to linger over your body vanished and you let out a sigh of relief.

Scaramouche was informed shortly before breakfast that same morning. You relayed the information to a maid, who then told him, whispering the words in his ear so quietly, it sounded like she was speaking gibberish. His face, his expression, changed to one shock, then horror, then pain. You didn't even know he could make such a face, yet there he was with tears in his eyes.

“Wh-what happened?” There was that tone again. The one you were used to. The anger and distaste for you in his voice. He slammed his fist down on the desk, turning his head away from you as his voice became high and breathy, so desperate for answers, “What did I do wrong?”

You stood in his office awkwardly, even this display from a person you hated, this display of agony was hurting you as well. You thought it would be funny. Seeing the man who pulled you from your home and forced you into marriage in pain was supposed to make you happy, but you felt your own chest clenching, felt your hands tremble.

“I-i suppose…I was stressed, my lord,” you muttered, his already labored breaths hitching at those words. The few months you were carrying that thing inside your body, was when he asked for less from you. He expected you to laze around all day and relax. For your body to fall into a daze like trance of naps and delicious food. He wanted happiness for both you and his child that you carried, yet you were still the most stressed you'd ever been in your entire life, knowing that he had something inside you. Something that would continue to fester and grow, until it eventually ate you alive.

He sat back in his office chair dejected, hurt, and empty. Scaramouche's normally sharp, glaring eyes were wide as he stared at the ceiling, body limp as he bit his lip, “Leave me,” he sighed, his voice barely above a whisper. Had it not been for the quietness of the room, you wouldn't have heard him.

Leave him you did, closing the door as silently as possible and not lingering behind. You felt yourself finally stop tensing, telling yourself that all your woes were over, for now. The thing was gone. You were happy. For once, even if unintentionally, you'd won over your captor.

[thewintersoldierdisaster]

a/n: fic for #13 on the 13th! i love mat and squeaks so much and the fact that you guys love them so much too just makes my heart expand like the grinch’s 🤍 they’re my favorites to write for and i hope you guys enjoy this one! so much more mat and squeaks to come 🥰

word count: 6.4k

tw: mentions of past miscarriages, mentions of fertility issues, anxiety, mentions of vomiting, pregnancy and all that goes along with it

summary: you and mat have an early christmas gift for talia (and inadvertently, the rest of the family too)

It’s way too early in the morning, cold and dark outside when Mat finds you in the bathroom, head in the toilet while you vomit. He gathers back your hair in a fist and brushes the stray wisps off your forehead. Otherwise, he’s quiet, just providing support for you.

You finish with one last dry heave and he holds your hand while you get shakily to your feet, leaning your free hand on the countertop. He keeps a hand solid on your lower back while fishing out a miniature bag of oyster crackers from a drawer in the vanity and sliding the Listerine bottle closer to you.

One swish of mouthwash and a few oyster crackers later, you’re feeling better. Not even close to perfect or normal, but better.

Mat opens his arms for you to step in and lean your cheek against his shoulder. His arms wrap around your upper back and yours loop to rest at his lower back. He’s warm and smells like the bergamont and lime Aesop soap bar in your shower and Tide laundry detergent, a little like animal crackers too, which is probably leftover from Talia waking up after he got home from Toronto the night before and making him come lay in her bed with her until she fell back asleep. Of course, Mat had fallen asleep in the too-small bed, the both of them snoring quietly when you left your bed to go find him.

“Lucky number thirteen,” he mumbles against the top of your head. His breath ruffles your hair and you snuggle closer to his chest. The worn fabric of his undershirt is soft against your cheek.

“And three days,” you reply, stomach flipping slightly. Whether it’s nausea or anxiety, you’re not sure. Likely a healthy combination of both.

“And three days,” Mat agrees. His hands rub circles over your back and you’re soothed enough that you could go back to sleep. Too bad you have a million things to do today, things to check off your list with only three days to go before Christmas.

“Maybe we should wait,” you say after a beat of comfortable silence. “Maybe we should wait for fourteen or fifteen weeks. It’s longer.”

It’s safer, you think but don’t say.

Thirteen weeks is longer than any of your past pregnancies too, other than Talia’s. But it still feels so early and so fragile. You’re trying so hard to be excited, and you are, but that excitement is tamped down by fear and anxiety.

Mat kisses the crown of your head. “Doctor said everything looked really good last week. And you’ve still got morning sickness, which you —“ He cuts himself off, but you know what he was going to say.

‘Which you didn’t with the last few’ - your symptoms had disappeared so early and you thought it was a blessing, that you weren’t vomiting every morning, that you weren’t as tired as you’d been with Talia. Turned out to be nightmare after nightmare.

But you nod against his chest, feeling grateful for the morning sickness that’s shown no sign of stopping, as long as it means a happy, healthy baby in just over six months. June can’t come soon enough.

“We can wait to tell T,” Mat continues, picking up as if he hadn’t stopped mid-sentence. “If you want. But Doctor Harmon said we were okay to start telling people and I think she’ll really like that Christmas present.”

At a delightfully hilarious five and a half, Talia’s been asking about a sibling pretty consistently for two or so years now. Especially after hanging around the team and seeing all the siblings in action. You know she’ll be thrilled for a baby brother or sister and that’s what worries you a little. If it goes badly, if it ends like the others, it’s not just yours and Mat’s heartbreak. It’s Talia’s too.

And you can handle your heartbreak, but you never want Talia to experience that.

“I can hear you thinking,” Mat chuckles, squeezing you closer to his chest. “I know you’re worried, I am too. But how can we let that perfectly wrapped present go to waste?”

His joke lands and you giggle, knowing the box hidden under your bed with Talia’s gift is wrapped with messy corners and too much tape, a Mat Barzal specialty. He’d insisted on wrapping the gift, “contributing to the process” since you were keeping the real present all bubble wrapped and safe in your womb.

“Okay, yes, yeah,” you repeat a few times, convincing yourself. “Let’s tell T and just…just enjoy the ride.”

Just enjoying the ride is something you’d worked really hard on in therapy the last few years, some days easier than others - the pile of ratty Moleskine journals hidden away in your closet full of your every thought from the past five years, good and bad. The newest one, coincidentally started on the day you’d gotten a positive pregnancy test, is already a quarter full of your up and down thoughts and scribbles.

“That’s my girl,” Mat’s hands cup your cheeks, tilting your face up so he can kiss you, even as you protest, reminding him of your vomit breath. He laughs as he kisses you anyway, mumbling, “minty,” against your mouth.

You shake your head at him, smiling. He squeezes your cheek and guides you back into the bedroom, flipping the light switch off. You settle on the bed, dragging a pillow into your lap and watch Mat start to get dressed even though it’s so early.

“I’ve got practice at 9:30,” he says, voice muffled as he pulls his undershirt over his head. You unashamedly watch his stomach muscles work, ogling his chest even though your libido is temporarily dead and buried. “We can wake T up and tell her before I go or we can do it when I get back.”

“When are you getting back?” You wrap a blanket around your shoulders, smothering a yawn in the fabric. A wave of exhaustion hits and you blink slowly. It’s too early for you to be awake on a normal day, but the extra pregnancy hormones have you both exhausted and unable to sleep. There’s no chance you’ll go back to bed, not when you have to finish getting the house ready for your Christmas guests.

Mat shrugs. “Depends. But probably around eleven, eleven thirty?”

He rummages through his drawers for a pair of sweats and you remind him that he has to go and pick up both sets of parents and Liana from the airport in the afternoon. “So maybe we should tell her now?” You chew at your thumbnail.

Fully dressed in casual athleisure for his drive to the practice rink, Mat nods and reaches over to pull your thumb away from your mouth. You scowl at him.

“I’ll go wake her up,” he laughs. “Even though she definitely could use some more sleep.”

You wave him off. “She’ll nap when you’re gone,” you reply. “Unless, of course, she wants to help me get the house ready.”

Mat raises an eyebrow at you, laughs, and heads down to Talia’s room. You grin at his retreating back and get up to rinse your mouth with Listerine again and give your teeth a good brush. You always feel gross after vomiting. Once you feel fresher and more awake, you change out of your sweaty pajamas and into a Christmas-appropriate dark green waffle knit lounge set. You feel much more human with real clothes on and you pat your stomach, a faint outward curve already forming between your hipbones.

This pregnancy is showing quicker than all the others, physical proof that you’re holding onto for your sanity.

“Mommy,” Talia’s whine precedes her and you smile automatically when you see Mat come back into your room with Talia curled up in his arms. Her face is buried in his neck and her dark curls are wild with bedhead. One leg of her cartoon Grinch patterned pajama bottoms is pushed halfway up her skinny calf and her arms are locked around Mat’s neck, her hands fisted in the fabric of his shirt, bunching it between his shoulders.

“Hi, baby,” you reply quietly, reaching out your arms for her. Mat transfers her to your lap and she curls up like a little cat, her cheek squished against your breast. “Daddy woke you up, huh?”

You smooth back her hair, the soft scent of her watermelon L’Oreal Kids shampoo wafting up to your nose. The French braid you’d tied her hair into last night is a wreck and you know she’ll complain when you have to brush out the knots later. But right now she’s so soft and sweet with sleep, seeming much younger than her five and a half years. You trace the tip of your finger over the slope of her nose and she wrinkles it at your touch, face relaxing again almost instantly.

“He said I had a s’prise,” she mumbles, blinking up at you. “But Christmas isn’t today.”

“Nope,” you agree and the mattress dips when Mat sits down next to you. “Christmas is in three days, but Daddy and I do have a gift for you early.”

That perks her right up, predictably. Talia blinks like a little meerkat, scrambling to sit up on your lap. She looks over at Mat, who’s grinning widely, and then back up at you.

“A gift before Christmas?” She asks, her ‘s’ whistling a little from the space left behind from the front baby tooth she’d lost a few days ago. “How come?”

Mat pulls the box out from under the bed and places it on Talia’s lap. “Because it’s a special gift and we wanted to give it to you early, since you’ve been such an awesome kid all year,” Mat says and you can hear the slight tremble in his voice. It reminds you that all of your fertility issues and miscarriages weren’t just hard on you, they were hard on Mat and he was a rock throughout everything, no matter what you threw at him emotionally. You reach out and squeeze his knee, giving him a small smile. He returns it with a wink.

Talia pokes her fingers into the corner of the wrapping paper, her sparkly nail polish catching in the light, and gives Mat an impish little smile. “Daddy wrapped this,” she says. “The corners are all wrinkly.”

You laugh at the roast and Mat’s jaw drops in fake outrage.

“They are not!” He yelps, reaching out to tickle Talia’s sides. She shrieks and wiggles, laughter echoing around the room.

“No! No, Daddy! Stop tickling!” She shrieks between gasping laughter and Mat relents, laughing too as he leans back into his spot. Talia’s hair is even messier, her cheeks flushed from laughter, and you can’t wait to have another one running around the house. A lump of emotion clogs your throat.

“I don’t like tickling,” she grumbles adorably and Mat apologies. Talia forgives him and pulls at the paper on her gift again. “Can I open now?”

You and Mat both nod and Talia wastes no time in ripping into the paper. Scraps go flying and Mat gathers them up, crumpling the paper in a ball that he tosses back and forth between his hands. Talia stops briefly when she sees the gift box and then tosses the lid off the side of the bed. You roll your eyes slightly at her dramatics, but then she’s pulling the sweater out of its tissue paper and laying it over your legs.

“What’s it say?” She cocks her head. Immediately, she recognizes the first word, “big,” and then starts sounding out the next, “si-sis-sister?”

You’re holding your breath while she sounds it out, your heart pounding when she wrinkles her nose and repeats, “big sister?”

Talia looks at you and then Mat, frowning while the wheels turn in her head. It takes a second and she repeats, “big sister? Me?” pointing at herself. Her eyebrows lift on her forehead.

Mat nods and you grin at her, “you’re going to be a big sister, love bug.”

It’s a surprise when Talia bursts into loud, hiccuping sobs and you’re caught unprepared. Tears stream down her face and she chokes for air, holding the sweater in a death grip, turning her knuckles white. Mat looks at you, wide-eyed and terrified of Talia’s reaction, until she wails, “I always wanted a baby!”

“Oh,” you cuddle her close, stroking her hair and letting her cry and snot all over your shirt. “Oh, my baby, I know. You’re overwhelmed. It’s okay, shhh, it’s okay.”

“I get a baby?” She asks and you nod even though she can’t see you. Tears well up in your eyes.

Mat’s hand rubs circles on her back and he’s whispering quietly to her, inaudible over the blood rushing in your ears.

“You’re going to have a sibling, love bug,” you say into her hair, choking on your own overwhelming emotion. “It’s really big news, right?”

Talia nods against you and you hear her blow her nose against your shirt. It’s gross, but you don’t mind.

She keeps wailing, crying happy tears and mumbling about how she always wanted a baby sibling like all of her friends. It cracks your heart and mends it all at once, knowing how long she’s waited and how happy she is to be finally getting a built-in best friend.

Tears drip down your cheeks and you feel Mat’s hand on your back, pulling you close. You and Talia are folded into Mat’s embrace, his palms cupping each of your heads to keep you close. Her cries settle down to a few sniffles and eventually she pulls back from your chest to look up at you.

Her big hazel eyes, Mat’s eyes, are red rimmed and still watery. You push damp strands of hair off her cheeks and kiss her forehead.

“I’m so happy, Mommy,” she says simply, lunging to throw her arms around your neck and squeeze you in a hug.

“I’m so happy too, TB,” you reply, the easiest and most honest words you’ve ever said.

Mat, never one to be left out, laughs and chimes in, “I bet you’re not as happy as me.” He kisses the top of Talia’s head, ruffling her hair. You can see a suspiciously wet shine to his eyes.

Talia leans from your lap to Mat’s, hugging his neck to tight it almost looks painful. “Nuh-uh,” she shakes her head. “I’m the happiest. I’m the happiest cause it’s my baby.”

“Hey,” you tickle her sides lightly, “it’s mine and Daddy’s baby too.”

She shrugs and grabs for her sweater again, yanking it on over her head. She pushes her hair out of her eyes with the backs of her hands, looking for all the world like an electrocuted mad scientist. “I’m gonna wear this forever and tell everyone I’m a big sister like Reese and Winnie,” she announces proudly, a huge missing-toothed smile splitting her face.

Her smile melts your heart and she starts rolling around on the bed, chanting “big sister, big sister,” to make you and Mat laugh.

You lean against Mat’s chest, his hands coming to rest on your stomach. He whispers in your ear, “I’m so glad we told her.”

“Me too,” you murmur back. Talia rolls back over to you and smooshes her face up against your stomach and Mat’s hands.

“My baby’s in there?” She asks and without waiting for an answer, kisses your stomach and says, “hi baby, I’m Talia. I’m your big sister and I love you.”

And that’s all it takes for your waterworks to start, tears flowing free and fast, to the point where Talia looks a little spooked and Mat has to shepard her downstairs for breakfast while you follow along a few minutes later, still sniffling and wiping at your eyes.

Mat serves you up a plate of pancakes, plain and no syrup to be easier on your stomach, and you kiss his cheek in return. He looks incredulous, “I make celebration pancakes and I only get a kiss on the cheek? Wow, Squeaks, wow.”

You roll your eyes at him and plant a dramatic, loud kiss on his lips, making Talia giggle over her own pancakes. There’s already a smudge of chocolate on her Big Sister sweater’s collar and you can’t help but smile.

Mat’s off to practice a little bit later and then it’s just you and Talia since school is already closed for the two-week break. She’s surprisingly clingy while you get the guest rooms ready for everyone, following at your heels with a handful of Calico Critters clutched in each palm.

She asks a million questions about the baby - when is it coming? Is it a boy or a girl? Is it gonna live in her room? Can we name it Sparky? (Late June, it’s going to be a surprise just like she was, it will live first in yours and Mat’s room and then will get its own room, and no. Definitely not.)

You flip through the pile of Christmas cards that have gone unopened for a few days, enjoying looking through the family pictures sent by all the wives and girlfriends you’ve made friends with throughout the years. A particularly cute family photo of Matthew Tkachuk, his wife, and their son makes you smile. Talia climbs up on a stool to look at the cards with you, pointing out each player that she knows and recognizes.

(“Mommy, did we send a card of me?” “Yes, baby, remember when you took a picture with us and Santa at Daddy’s work? We sent that one out.” “Oh, we should’ve sent the picture of me and Minnie at Disney ‘cause I looked real cute in that, Nana said so.”)

At some point, Talia dumps the Calico Critters back in their designated box and picks up her Bitty Baby, carrying it around and hugging it tightly. The sight makes you wobbly, praying silently that this is the baby that stays.

Mat comes home from practice, wet hair shoved under his Stadium Series beanie, and barely drops his keys before he’s swooping Talia up into his arms and blowing raspberries on her cheeks. He’s got a giddy energy that isn’t just from a good practice.

“Big sister, ready to head to the airport in a little bit?” He asks, gamely accepting the minor blow to the head from a plastic Bitty Baby leg.

“Yes!” Talia shouts. “Let’s go now!”

You chime in, “you’d be so early! There’s still about two hours until the planes land. That’s four episodes of Bluey,” you add, anticipating Talia’s next question.

She frowns, but shrugs and tells Mat, “Mommy said we can’t name my baby Sparky. I like Sparky.”

Mat grins at you and winks. To Talia, he says, “how about we work on it? There’s a long time to come up with a good name.”

You know Talia’s likely not going to give up on Sparky, but over the next hour she offers up Princess Jasmine, Tweety Bird, and Bingo as alternatives. Every time she refers to it as “my baby” though, you feel like you could cry again. Mat was right, telling her was a really good idea.

Until it comes time for them to leave for the airport and you have to tell her, gently but firmly, not to spill the beans. You zip up her jacket, hiding the words on the sweater she still refuses to take off. She’d even refused the option to put another sweater over it. This kid.

“But I wanna tell ‘em,” she whines, batting at the hat you try to pull over her head.

“We will tell everyone,” you assure her, winning the battle. The knit cap is snug over her ears, flattening her dark hair against her forehead. She looks adorably grumpy, a miniature replica of Mat. “But Mommy and Daddy want to surprise them with a Christmas present, okay? It’s our secret. Can you promise?”

Talia hums and bounces from foot to foot, considering. You cross your fingers that she gets it.

“I guess,” she relents, grabbing up a Princess Jasmine doll in one hand and an Aladdin doll in the other. Bitty Baby has been relegated to her crib for a nap that’s lasted more than an hour and you’re nearly jealous of a baby doll.

Mat appears in the front hall with his car keys jangling and a grin on his face. “Ready to go, TB?”

She bounces around, nodding and chanting “yes yes yes” in response to Mat’s question.

You giggle and pat her on the butt. “Save that energy for the game tomorrow,” you tease, getting to your feet and holding the door open. It’s starting to flurry a bit, the light flakes swirling in the air prettily. Mat kisses you quickly on his way out, nudging Talia between the shoulder blades to get her moving.

“Bye, Mommy!” She shouts, waving over her shoulder. “Bye, Baby Sparky!”

You wave at them, closing the door just after watching Mat swing Talia around before opening the car door for her to climb inside.

By some Christmas miracle, all three incoming flights - your parents from North Carolina, Mat’s parents from Vancouver, and Liana from London - were scheduled to land within ten minutes of each other, so Mat only had to make one trip to LaGuardia.

He glides the Defender easily into an open spot at the Arrivals curb, praying that the trip from baggage claim to the car doesn’t take everyone that long.

“Remember,” he turns around in his seat, lowering the volume on the Disney Princess medley soundtrack Talia had insisted on, “Baby Sparky is a secret. So don’t tell everyone okay?”

“Okay, but what if I just told LeeLee?” She says, not looking at Mat, but playing with her dolls. “And then you and Mommy can tell everyone else.”

“No,” Mat laughs, despite himself. “You can’t tell LeeLee. Don’t say anything, okay, Tals?”

Talia shrugs and agrees. “Okay, I won’t say anythin’ about Baby Sparky.”

Mat reaches his hand out for a high five and Talia slaps his palm enthusiastically. She makes Mat turn the music back up while they wait and sings happily along to ‘Part of Your World’ until Mat’s phone vibrates with a text and he grins.

“Take a look out the window, T,” he says, pointing towards the airport. “We’ve got some visitors.”

Talia shrieks happily, kicking her legs and waving wildly at her grandparents and aunt as the five of them come into sight. Liana waves wildly back, making a silly face for good measure.

Mat gets out of the car to help with the luggage, accepting a hug and kiss from both moms. Liana punches his arm and then gives him a one-armed hug before helping him with the luggage at the trunk. They both wave off the parents for their help and gesture for them to get in the car.

“Hi Nana and hi Pop and hi Grandma and hi Grandpa,” Talia chirps excitedly as they all get in the car, in one breath in the way only little kids can manage. She tilts her cheek up to get kisses from her grandmothers as they climb into the third row of the car.

“Hi Talia,” Nadia grins, tweaking her cheek.

“Hi, sweetie,” your mom replies, cupping Talia’s chin between her thumb and index finger. “It’s so good to see you!”

“Hey, TB,” Liana calls from the back of the car, hoisting her suitcase into the trunk. “No hellos for your favorite aunt?”

Talia wiggles around in her booster seat to wave at Liana. “LeeLee! Did you know I’m gonna be a big sister?” She shouts the question and Mat freezes.

“Fuck,” he mutters quietly, remaining extremely still as all five family members turn to look at him. He gives his mother an awkward grin. All three women are aware of the issues you’ve had in the past, he knows. Liana especially since you’d confided everything in her during her visits and on multiple phone calls. When you couldn’t or wouldn’t talk to Mat, he was just grateful that you had Liana at least to confide in.

“Mat?” Nadia prods him for a response.

“Yeah!” Talia continues, oblivious. “Mommy said we can’t name the baby Sparky, but I wanna call it Sparky anyway.”

“Oh my god!” Liana yelps, reaching out to shake Mat’s arm. “Seriously?” She does a little dance in place.

Mat nods, laughing a little. “Yeah, seriously. We told T this morning, but,” he shoots the kindergartener a playful glare, “she wasn’t supposed to tell anyone yet.”

Talia’s still oblivious, chattering happily to her grandfathers, both of whom have huge grins on their faces. The moms are wiping away tears in the third row, reaching over into the trunk to hug Mat awkwardly.

“Oh, I’m so happy for you guys,” your mom sobs, overwhelmed.

Mat accepts the huge hug Liana forces on him and finishes getting the bags in the trunk, the honking already starting from other cars waiting at the curb.

Once everyone’s in the car, Liana wedged in the middle seat and already starting to entertain Talia, Mat lowers the music and whistles to get attention on him.

“Look, T wasn’t supposed to tell you guys about the baby,” he says, easing out into traffic. “We wanted to do something special on Christmas, so if you could all pretend that you know nothing, that would be very helpful.”

Your mom sighs from the third row. “It’s going to be so hard to pretend,” she tells Nadia, who agrees. They’d both been discussing a baby shower, which Mat definitely thinks is a little premature, but he can’t blame them for being excited. He’s beyond happy himself.

“I get that,” he replies. “I really do. But remember, I’ve got a fragile, hormonal pregnant wife and she really wanted to surprise you all. Please play along and ignore Talia.”

“Hey!” Talia pipes up, abandoning her doll to Liana’s lap. “It’s mean to ignore, Daddy!”

Mat catches her eye in the rearview mirror. “I’m sorry, TB. But you did promise Mommy not to mention the baby and here we are.”

Talia squints at him, scrunching her face up and making Liana laugh at the expression. She pouts and kicks at the back of Mat’s seat. “I was excited, Daddy! I was so excited I cried, ‘member?” She grumbles.

Liana tugs at one of her dark curls. “Yeah, she couldn’t help herself, Mat,” she teases. “We’ll all be on our best behavior, promise.”

There’s no doubt in Mat’s mind that the five adults in the car will absolutely ruin the surprise the second they get home, but he crosses his fingers and hopes anyway.

Traffic is light, surprisingly, and you’re waiting at the door when Mat pulls into the driveway less than two hours after he left. You wave as everyone piles out of the car, catching Talia in your arms when she runs up to you.

“Mommy! LeeLee said she brought me sou-soubeniers?” She yelps.

“Souvenirs,” you correct gently, helping her out of her jacket and frowning when you see the sweater you’d forgotten she was wearing. “Go wash your hands, baby.”

Talia scampers off and you hope that buys you a little time to get her changed before everyone sees.

Your parents and in-laws parade into the house, all four of them giving you extra tight hugs and kisses on the cheek. Your dad murmurs that it’s good to see you and Mike gives you a wide smile, hugging you for a moment longer than usual.

Nadia cups your cheeks in her hands and just looks at you for a few seconds before shaking her head and pulling you back in for a second hug. Strange.

Something prickles at the back of your neck and when your mom greets you with watery eyes, you know exactly what happened.

Liana shoots you a delighted smirk, wrapping one arm around you in a hug as she passes. “Merry Christmas,” she beams, kissing your cheek.

Mat is last, dragging suitcases behind him and wearing a sheepish expression. You hold the door open for him and deadpan, “blabbermouth junior told everyone, didn’t she?”

“Literally the second they got in the car,” Mat admits. To his credit, he doesn’t try and lie.

“I should’ve known,” you laugh, following him into the house. Your mom already has Talia on her hip, Big Sister sweater proudly front and center as she demonstrates to the grandparents that she can read the words. They all look up guiltily at you and you just laugh more. “Spoilsport ruined the news,” you say, flattening your hand on your stomach, “but Baby Barzal should be here in June. God willing.”

The sudden cheer overwhelms you and gets you teary eyed again before you’re enveloped in a hug that nearly smothers you. Mat’s grinning at you from the safety of the fridge, until he gets accosted by the moms. He pats them on the back, laughing.

After the excitement of the news, you fall into your usual visit routine - changing out of airplane clothes and placing an order from the Italian place that everyone loves before settling into the den to catch up.

“I was going to give you guys these on Christmas,” you start the sentence before you disappear upstairs and return with three boxes in your arms. “But might as well do it now.”

Talia whips her head around, abandoning the bag of pretzels she’d dug out of the pantry and is sharing with your dad and Mike. “More presents? For me?” She asks, clambering over the arm of the couch to fall into Nadia’s lap and poke at the wrapped gift. “Oh, Mommy wrapped this. It’s so pretty. It event has a ribbon,” she chirps, stroking the velvet bow loops.

“Ooh,” Liana laughs at Mat, “burned by your own kid.”

“Oh, ha ha,” Mat rolls his eyes at his sister and when he’s sure Talia’s distracted, flips her off.

“Behave,” Nadia chastises, tone firm even though she’s smiling. Talia’s already pulling the paper away from the box in her lap and Nadia lets her continue.

You curl up against Mat’s side and watch everyone open their gifts - Polaroid shaped Christmas ornaments with the baby’s sonogram in the little photo spot, Coming Soon scrawled in cursive over the bottom of it.

It would’ve been nice to surprise everyone on Christmas morning, but there’s something even nicer about doing it now. With everyone relaxed and excited and able to really enjoy the moment without the chaos of presents and breakfast and stockings.

“Wait?” Talia squints at the sonogram. She pokes her finger against the black and white image. “Is that my baby?”

“Mhm,” you hum watching your mom explain exactly which blurry blob is the baby. “That’s the first ever picture of the baby.”

“Do I have a picture like that?” She asks, appropriating Nadia and Mike’s ornament for herself and lying across their laps while she studies the image.

Mat nods. “Tons of them,” he replies. “We can show you later, if you want.”

She hums distractedly and you let the grandparents take over for a bit, spoiling her and distracting her while you relax against Mat’s side, his hand snaking down to rest on your stomach under your shirt. His palm is warm and dry and his fingers draw absent shapes against your skin. He turns the fireplace on from his phone and the room gets cozier, full of noise and laughter and joy.

It’s the best start to Christmas week that you could’ve ever imagined.

And it turns out that everyone knowing about the baby early is a blessing in disguise, because your mom and Nadia don’t let you do a single thing the next day. They get breakfast ready for everyone and the dads get the sidewalks and cars clean from the few inches of snow that had fallen over night.

You try to help, but are shooed away to the couch to rest. Liana and Talia join you intermittently. Your baby curls up on your lap with her Bitty Baby, listening as Liana fills you in on her love life in code that goes over Talia’s head.

Mat’s gone most of the day for morning skate and is back for his pre-game nap before disappearing again around 3:30.

Talia insists on wearing her Big Sister sweater again, but the combined powers of Liana and your mom work to get her to put an Islanders jersey over it for the game. The adults are decked out in gear too and you go for comfort over style in an oversized henley and vest with leggings. Your nod to team spirit is your custom Islander Nikes.

Since the whole family is there and it’s the last game before the holiday break, Mat sprung for a suite and you’re grateful for it because you can relax and not have to worry about Talia slipping away.

Periodically, the other girls pop in to join you and as much as you try to keep her distracted, Talia announces your news to everyone that stops in, chirping, “I’m gonna be a big sister!” with a big, chocolate smudged grin and a few bunny hops.

You’ve never been excitedly screamed at and hugged in your entire life, a permanent grin making your face hurt by the time the second is halfway done.

Mat finishes the game with a trip to the penalty box, a goal, two assist, and the team wins. Maxine Nightingale fills the arena and Talia shimmies along to the chorus, cheering for Mat as he’s announced as the first star and skates over to chat with Shannon.

“Congrats on the win,” Shannon grins and Talia hangs over the glass, waving at Mat. You hold the back of her jersey in a tight fist, ignoring the way your stomach swoops with anxiety every time she lunges forward.

“Thanks, Shannon,” Mat’s face is larger than life on the screen and his smile is megawatt. “Feels really good to get the two points at home.”

Shannon laughs and nods, “I bet! And with these two points and the Ranger loss last night, the Islanders are heading into the holiday break at the top of the Metro. Just another thing to celebrate, right?”

“Oh yeah!” Mat’s lips curl up in a cock smirk that has your dormant sex drive sparking slightly. “A lot to celebrate this year,” he looks up at the suites and you swear he makes eye contact with you, his smile growing more genuine. “Just really glad to get the win with my family here.”

“I’m sure they’re all waiting to start the holiday celebrations with you, Merry Christmas, Mat,” Shannon smiles and the interview ends with Mat wishing her the same and heading off down the tunnel.

“Bye, Daddy!!!” Talia shouts out, waving.

You snatch her back from the glass and she pouts at you briefly before skipping over to Liana to mooch some M&M’s off of her.

“Are we heading home before Mat or did you want to see him?” You ask, sitting down on one of the couches outside the suite. A yawn catches in the back of your throat and your mom brushes her hand over the top of your head. You lean into her touch like a cat, warmed by her affection.

“Let us take you home, baby,” she replies. “You look exhausted.”

“I’m okay,” you assure her, passing Liana a baby wipe from your bag so she can wipe the chocolate off of Talia’s face. “T likes to see Mat after the games, so we can all meet him out at the garage and split into the two cars.”

“I wanna see Daddy and Uncle Bo and Noah,” Talia calls out, wriggling away from Liana and the baby wipe she’s wielding.

“Jesus, stay still TB, you’ve got a chocolate five o’clock shadow,” Liana laughs.

Mat is waiting for you downstairs, immediately scooping Talia up and giving her a smacking kiss on the cheek. “My good luck charms!” He grins, hair damp.

“Daddy, where’s Noah?” Talia drapes herself over Mat’s shoulder, looking around for her favorite defenseman. “I wanna show him my sweater.”

“You already showed Alexa,” you remind her. “She’ll

show Noah the picture you posed for. And remember, you’re going to see everyone at Aunt Syd and Uncle Matt’s Christmas Eve party tomorrow.”

Somehow you manage to get Talia in her car seat in Mat’s car, the rest of the Barzals going with Mat too and leaving you to drive home with your parents. Mat kisses your forehead before he gets into the driver’s seat of his car and tells you to be safe.

You nod and end up in the back seat of your own car when your dad insists on driving home. You’re grateful for it, honestly, slumping against the door and yawning. It’s been a long day and you’re definitely ready to head to bed.

“I’m so happy for you, baby,” your mom murmurs over the Christmas music playing on the radio. She has her arm extended behind her so she can hold your hand. “Make sure you take care of yourself and if you need me to come and help, say the word. Whatever you need, right, hon?” That last bit is directed at your dad and he nods in agreement, a man of few words.

“Thanks, mom,” you can’t help the waver to your voice. Quieter, you continue, “I’m scared.”

“Oh, my girl,” your mom turns around in her seat and gives you a soft smile. “It’s only natural, after everything you and Mat have been through. But I’m going to go light a candle tomorrow and you’re going to stay positive and in June you’ll have a beautiful new baby to love on.”

You nod and wipe at your eyes, your free hand splayed on your stomach. In your purse, your phone vibrates and you pull it out to find a text from Liana - a video of Talia in her car seat, singing the wrong lyrics to ‘All I Want for Christmas’ loudly and proudly. She’s totally off key, but she’s having the time of her life. Before the video ends, you can hear Mat in the background laughing and saying, “T, next year you can teach Baby Sparky the lyrics.”

Tears flood your eyes again and the reality continues to hit - this time next year you’ll have a second baby all geared up to celebrate their first Christmas.

You can’t wait.

[lalunanymph]

𝐆𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐅 𝐈𝐒 𝐉𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐍𝐎 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐄 𝐓𝐎 𝐆𝐎

in japanese culture, 'jizos' are small figurines dressed in red caps and bibs to honor the souls of babies who were never born

tw miscarriage, implied cheating, heavy angst, itoshi rin x fem!reader

The salty sea air stung his eyes, drawing to them a sheen of tears that threatened to spill out by the sight that greeted him. 

Close to the shore, draped in a long trench coat and staring out into the horizon, the woman he loved stood with her back turned from him, shoulders hunched and eyes vacant. 

After days of traversing this small town and asking around well-meaning shopkeepers and local experts, he had finally found the plum orchard belonging to her family. A few kilometres from the bountiful field was the seashore where she often spent time in the evenings to conclude a full day of plum-picking. 

Rin stared at you, at your silhouette, raking his eyes up and down your figure like a starving man. There was a pit hollowing out in his rib cage, right underneath his heart where it used to beat valiantly—strongly—and now was nothing but an empty shell. He took one step forward, and stopped.

The beach was empty today, the winter season repulsing tourists from enjoying the crystalline waters. Vendors and tired mothers alike could not find solace from this harsh weather, and so they turned inward, away from the harsh cold. But, you could not be any different. You sought out the wind, the chill and the loneliness like an orphan chased away from home, tracking the clouds in the sky with sightless, forlorn eyes. 

Rin watched as you sat down on a stone bench, drawing your knees to your chin. He thought you had never looked this small and fragile as you did now. 

His feet took him towards you without him telling them to, an impulse he swore he had gotten rid of those months ago when you disappeared from his life and into anonymity. Every step forward felt like he was walking on glass, and he paused in jerky stops, wrestling with his trembling knees that ached to kneel before you in seeking forgiveness. 

You heard someone approaching, and the sudden interruption to your usual peaceful days fractured into broken shards of icy realisation when you saw him standing a few feet away. 

His mop of dark green hair with its too long bangs falling in his face, the pinch between his brow and the devastation in his hollow, teal eyes. He looked thinner than you remembered, shoulders hunched and cheekbones gaunt. The most telling of his suffering were his eyes—they were always filled with fiery passion and disdain for those he perceived as useless and weaker than him. Those teal pits were depleted of their rage, replaced by crestfallen despair that made you wish you never turned around in the first place. 

Something fractured in you, razing down your composure for a few seconds to allow a show of fear flitting across your face. Rin walked towards you with his palms raised, a peace treaty for his declaration of conflict. He pleaded without words for you to stay put, even going so far as to approach you cautiously like you were a wounded animal. 

Your breathing ran jagged, and a tremble overtook your hands. Rapidly, your eyes ticked towards the closest escape path, wondering how fast you could sprint to evade his touch—his presence—and hide away once more so he could never unearth you again. As if he could read your mind, Rin’s hoarse, low voice pierced through the blood rushing in your ears.

“Y/N, stop. Don’t run.” 

You stood, rooted to the spot, breath tumbling out in frosty trembles. He stopped a few feet away from you, letting you gasp in the salty air that was not tainted by his familiar pine cologne and musk. Giving you some space to adapt to his presence. 

Rin was a man who floundered with his words if it wasn’t steeped in threats or aggression. There was nothing he could do to remedy the sudden catch on his tongue, the lump in his throat that almost swallowed him whole. You were better at this than he was; better at speaking, at expressing yourself and your love. You were always a better person than he was. 

He could not even offer you comfort because he forgot how it felt—how comfort tasted and moulded in between his embrace, forever lost to his blind touches ever since the day you disappeared from his life. 

The wind started to pick up and bite your exposed wrists, and you wished you had brought some gloves to ward off the chill of his ocean deep eyes boring into yours.  

Neither of you spoke for a time, the waves crashing to shore the only accompaniment to this lovelorn scene playing out between two people who were no longer lovers. You glanced at your boot-clad feet sinking in the soft sand, and turned your gaze out towards the horizon. 

The wind played with the edges of your locks, and Rin fought the unreasonable urge to tuck them behind your ears, to not take your cheeks in his hands like he used to do a million times before.

“Y/N—”

“Why did you come here?” Your voice was feathered with exhaustion, echoing the dark circles underneath your eyes. “The paparazzi will catch you—your career will be on the line if you’re seen with me. You should go.” 

You turned around to walk away and Rin didn’t know what was worse—that your first thought was to keep his reputation safe or that you assumed he hadn’t taken the consequences into consideration when he made this impossible move to find you. There were more dire concerns on the line besides his reputation; his probation with PXG hanging in thin air, the number of fouls piling up on his name, the amount of misses he had during last week’s training alone…

But, Rin disregarded them all. He buried them in the back of his mind as he took a train, then a plane and rented a car to drive himself to this little, far-flung town hundreds of miles away from Tokyo. 

Just for a chance to see you. 

And you had turned your back on him, thinking he was here by mistake. 

He wasn’t. 

Rin reached out to grab your wrist, not anticipating the choked cry you released. He cringed away like you had scalded him and noticed a second too late the silvery tracks running down your cheeks. 

“Please,” your voice was hoarse, pitiful. “I already gave you everything. Everything, Rin. Please leave me alone.” 

The tiny sniffles you expelled, the tears you dashed away and the completely miserable fracturing of your expression made him come to a hard pause. 

Rin swallowed heavily, about to reach out for you again when you shrank back and shook your head. His lungs were filling up with water and his knees were weighted with lead when they sank into the sand, strong arms vining around your torso as he buried his face into your lower back. Desperately holding onto you so you wouldn’t wash away like his hopes and dreams—whispers of foolish wishes that would never come true: of the peaceful life he wanted to have with you, your beautiful face the first thing he would see every morning when he greeted the world, the adorable reflections of your children who would have his eyes and your smile…

“Don’t,” his pleas cracked under the weight of his muffled sobs. “Don’t go. Please. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I’m… I’m so sorry, baby.” 

But, like sand slipping through his fingers, you evaded his grasp and anguished yearning, leaving him alone on his knees as if you never existed in the first place. The brief contact he had with you seared through his skin like an iron brand, tasting of your warmth and sunshine he had missed in what felt like decades. It was like he could finally smell, see and love vividly, only for that light to be taken away from him when you pried his hands off you and took one step forward. 

Disregarding him behind in the dust like how his brother once did. Rin refused to let you go, gripping onto the hem of your coat, praying you would turn around and see him again—love him again. 

“Rin—” The choked emotion in your tone was far from the spite one would assume a heartbroken woman like you would have.

You had known Itoshi Rin to be an incredibly proud man who would never beg or plead for anyone quite like how he was bowing on his knees for you. And it pained you to see him this broken down—this beaten.

Because of you. 

“Stop. Don’t.” Stand up, live your life, leave me alone.

Words you could not say perforated the air harsher than any salt or mineral could to rust the foundations of your feeble relationship with Rin. “Please, go. You… I don’t want to do this. We’re over, Rin. We’ve been over. Stop. Don’t do this.” 

You halfway wished you hadn’t glanced back at him to tug your coat from his grasp. Wished you hadn’t seen his red-rimmed eyes, his swollen lips from biting back quiet sobs or the utter agony you could never fully grasp swimming in those beautiful teal irises of his. They swirled around you like dangerous eddies, dunking you into their icy bellies and numbing your rational thoughts from the perilous consequences. 

And you valiantly fought off the current, trying hard to shake the hatred lingering in your soul for the words he spat in his brother’s face during the heat of their argument. 

It happened weeks ago but you could still recall what he said like it was imprinted on the back of your eyelids. 

Don’t be a lukewarm idiot—she’s worthless and means nothing to me. I only wanted to take revenge on you so you would know what it… what it felt like to lose! 

A tear slipped past his lash line, free falling down to the grainy ground and sinking into the porous beyond. How many tears had the sand taken from the sea only to welcome her agony over and over again like a patient martyr? Another drop was hardly a burden onto his shifting shoulders; Rin’s heartbreak held no substance in time besides this very second, soon to be absorbed, never to be seen again. 

All you did was sped up the process, not wanting to delay this excruciating torment and endure it for another second longer. 

“I’m sorry,” he offered again, this time in a softer tone, as if he understood he had lost the war before it even began. “I didn’t mean what I said, I’m so sorry. Forgive me, baby? Please? Take me back.”

The last sentence was more of a desperate order than a request, his entire heart on the line when he reached out to you again, beseeching you like a sinner begging for clemency from a deity, taking your hands and pressing your palms to his cheeks. “Let me explain myself. I love y—“

“Please.” 

The warmth you bestowed onto him even for just a few seconds was ripped away again, with more force this time, and you didn’t care if he was on his knees; you wanted to run away and never see him again.

Taking a few mincing steps back, your heart exploded with agonising relief when he didn’t move after you, frozen to the ground with his arms extended out towards your direction. They eventually flopped back to his side, losing all momentum and hope when you shook your head, fighting back a sob with a palm pressed to your mouth. Your eyes were heavy with unshed tears, and the moment you looked away, one of those pesky droplets broke free and slipped down your cheek, illuminating a path he wanted to kiss away with his apologetic lips; to stop the flow of sorrow with his aching devotion. 

But, from your tense shoulders and frozen shock, you would rather swallow glass than let him do that; you wouldn’t let him come close to you without putting up a fight. 

Balling your fists over your mouth, he watched, helpless to do anything but watch when you expelled a loud, muffled sob and shook your head from side to side, as if to push off the pain clinging to you like a second skin. 

“Go,” you heaved through the cracks of your fingers, shaking from head to toe. “You’ve taken everything from me—my life back in Tokyo, my relationship with… with Sae… my reputation… you’ve gotten your revenge, Rin.” 

You gasped that last part out, releasing one fist to push into your stomach, grounding your pain with a physical one so that you wouldn’t lose your mind right this instance. “I meant nothing to you, r-right? So, you shouldn’t be here if I m-meant n-nothing to y-you.” 

“Wait—”

He barely blurted out his next words when you swivelled on your axis and sprinted back to your car, leaving him alone on the cold sand to fend off his tears. His knees smarted when he stood back to his full height, hands jammed into his pockets to hide the tremble in his fingers as those agonised teal eyes watched your car disappear down the road, back to the safety of your family’s orchard. Back to your cocoon you had spun to hide yourself away from the world.

Away from him. 

Rin dropped his eyes to the sand staining his dark wash jeans, methodically brushing back one grain after another, his mind humming a blank. He ignored the pain in favour of taking off his shoes and socks, rolling up the hem of his jeans to his calves and soaking his feet in the cold waves lapping around him. For a few seconds, he closed his eyes, immersed in the cold, fighting back the pain manifesting in his right temple. 

He peeled open his eyes again, and realising that he had sunken in a few inches since he last stood at the edge, he reluctantly stepped back, picking his shoes and socks from near the stone bench and made his way towards the old, rented car. Driving away, he escaped with his metaphorical tail in between his legs, not noticing a lone figure scrutinising him at a lookout point just above the beach. 

Dressed in dark jeans and a similar jacket to Rin, his signature auburn hair tucked under a baseball cap and a large pair of shades covering his eyes, Itoshi Sae watched his brother fall to his knees for the woman who once belonged to him.

He was positioned too far to hear the words you both exchanged, but he could guess the context when Rin refused to let you go, clinging onto you like how a scared child might to his mother about to leave out the door forever.  

Sae admitted he didn’t feel a shred of satisfaction when you repeatedly turned away, only for Rin to grip onto your coat, your hands, and nearly catch your waist again when you finally evaded him and sprinted towards your car. He wasn’t a cruel bastard the world made him out to be, not when he had to fight off the ache to tug his little brother back from the seashore, eyes narrowed in scrutiny as Rin stood stock still at the ocean’s lip. 

He waited, wondering if Rin would succumb to the same pit of misery that was exactly like the one in his chest and wade deeper into the churning sea. Sae mulled over the thought of whether he had it in him to pull his younger brother back from the edge. 

But, the moment Rin walked back to his car, Sae released a breath he hadn’t realised he was holding. 

He grunted, hands tightening into fists when his otouto drove away, in the direction of your home; the same address Sae had painstakingly researched for till the early hours of morning. 

Truth be told, Itoshi Sae had no idea what he was doing here. 

He had abandoned his flight to Spain and chose a domestic one to this buttfuck town in the middle of nowhere, just for the slimmest hope of seeing you again. 

Peak season was upon the football world, and his team had a match against Italy next week. In theory, he should be practising his drills until he collapses in exhaustion, not stalking the woman whose life he ruined with clandestine pictures of her affair with his own brother. 

What is wrong with me?  

Sae could never find the exact answer for that. So, he waited until the sky dipped under the horizon and the shutters of night started to close upon the corners of the world. 

Only then did he turn back to his own car to drive in the opposite direction of Rin; back to his hotel to pack up and leave this shit town before his coach realised he was missing. 

In just one afternoon, your entire world had turned upside down.

You should’ve known that when peace came with the realisation that life had at least managed to work out for you, your past would come knocking on your door, like a bloodhound sniffing out your deepest wounds.

And you absolutely had not expected to see Rin at all. 

You could barely pay attention to your job, and the cash register felt more like a barricade hiding you from incoming fire than a counter you could seek a few hours of solace from. Counting spare change needed a calculator’s help, and you had nearly dropped an entire jar of expensive umeboshi if it wasn’t for Kenji’s quick reflexes in catching the heavy glass.

“I’m sorry,” you apologised to him, almost in tears. “I’m… I’m not right today.” 

He didn’t have to ask you why, because the second you uttered those words, the shop bell rang shrilly, and Rin stepped into the tiny store. 

Kenji straightened, staring at the other man in disbelief; wondering just what the hell an Itoshi brother was doing here in the middle of Minabe where he didn’t belong.

“You,” Kenji seethed, rolling up his sleeves. Somewhere behind him, you flinched and took a step back behind the still, as if bracing yourself for the worst. 

In your mind, you imagined Rin’s tantrum, the words he would yell at you and the attention drawn, once again, to your luckless love life in choosing him over Sae. 

But, you hadn’t expected Rin to stiffly bow at your brother, completely ignoring you as he mumbled, “I’m here to submit a job application. I saw you needed a staff member to help with menial tasks and I wanted to try my luck.” The sign tacked onto the front of the shop drew your eyes towards it, and you wondered how you hadn’t noticed it in the first place until Rin pointed it out. Bowing deeper, he ignored your soft gasp of bafflement, only focused on the one man who held the keys to his redemption. 

Without waiting for Kenji to reply, Rin bulldozed on to sell himself. 

“I’m strong. I have good stamina and my physique stands at 6 foot 3. I can help with rearranging jars and even with plum picking, if you would accept me.”

Whatever card your brother expected your ex-lover to play, it wasn’t this. He stood there, stupefied with his stocky shoulders slumped. For a split second, he glanced at you, and with a secret sibling code, he raised his eyebrows, as if to say—what’s going on? 

Your reply was a quick, sharp shake of your head. I don’t know. 

Rin waited while you both silently communicated, his intense teal stare never wavering from the dirty tiled floors. 

It wasn’t your decision to reject or hire any potential employees, so your brother was the one to call the shots. 

“What… why would you want this job?” Narrowing his eyes, Kenji spoke through gritted teeth when the obvious answer settled in. “If it’s just to play sweet by my sister, you can forget it. I’m never letting you get close to her.” 

You noticed Rin’s heavy shoulders tensing and anticipated a sharp reply or the promise of a brawl. Not lowered eyes and an almost regretful expression.

“I wanted to atone for my mistakes and this was the only way I knew how. I want to help your family, L/N-san.” 

It sounded strange to hear your ex-lover say your family name with such formality; it made you come to terms that he never held a perception of hierarchy when it came to you. 

You were always Y/N to him, just like he was just Rin to you.

“Fuck off, Itoshi,” your brother retorted hotly, and he picked up a broom, as if the measly stick could ward off a seasoned football player who was physically in his prime. “Get out of here. You’re just trying to get back into my nee-chan’s good graces. You shouldn’t be here.”

Kenji’s words rang around the small shop. The air-conditioner gurgled and whined; there was no other sound in this tight bubble of tension than all of your heavy breathing.

Rin’s eyes met yours for the first time since this morning when you rejected him on the beach with desperation. They were filled to the brim with such sorrow you had never seen the egotistical striker carry; a weight curving the ends of his lips down. 

“Can I at least speak to you before I leave? Please?” he added softly as an afterthought. 

Kenji glanced at you, prepared to fight your battles. But, you shook your head and took a deep breath. This was a conversation you needed to have with Rin alone; there was only so much you could do before your past came back with a vengeance, pleading for you to resolve the suffocating emotions so everyone could move on freely. 

Going around the still, you glanced back at Kenji with a tight smile. “Could we borrow the balcony for a bit?” 

Your brother looked like he would rather swallow nails than let stay in the same room with this bastard for one more second. He debated for a split second, and only when you nodded again, did he give his consent. 

“Fine.” Fishing in his overall’s pockets, he tossed you a single bronze key. To Rin, he fixed a glare. “If I hear one single complain from my nee-chan—”

“You have every right to beat me up,” he promised without prompting, catching both you and Kenji back with surprise. Rin’s conviction in his tone was what gave the slightest bit of confidence to Kenji that the pro-player wasn’t going to hurt you again once his back was turned. “I’ll take care of her,” Rin murmured softly, and the glimmer of gratitude on his lashline shouldn’t have made Kenji feel guilty, but it did. “You can trust me with that.”

His reassurance was a bit of an overkill, but it worked to ease your brother’s distaste. Kenji glanced at the ticking clock, and then back at your grim expression.

“Fifteen minutes. Anymore than that and I will personally throw you out of this store myself, Itoshi. You’re taking up my only employee’s precious time.” 

“I promise I’ll make this quick.” Rin’s serious expression reflected your exasperation back. You loved your brother, but sometimes, he could be a bit of a hardhead with his threats. 

“We’ll be down in a bit,” you reassured, and unlocked the door which led right to the very top floor. “Please help me man the counter?” 

The corner of your brother’s lip twitched, but he didn’t deny your request, taking your place behind the still with his back turned from the door. Counting down the minutes and showing enough grace to give you both the privacy you needed without his prying eyes.

You shot him an appreciative look, and gestured at Rin to follow you. He kept a respectable distance from you, hands in his pockets and surly expression locked on the linoleum floor to watch his steps. 

Bright sunlight battered down your head without mercy, and you shielded your eyes, staring out at the different tiled houses as far as your eye could see. In the distance was the beach where Rin had encountered you not even five hours ago, his knees digging into the sand, begging you for the forgiveness you could not give to him.

Now, he was back here, braving the storm of your family’s retribution and judgement to speak to you. 

What did that say about his character and intentions? 

If Rin really was guilty of the things he had done to you, he would’ve stayed away for the sake of his good conscience. But, here he was, looking at you like you hung the moon in the sky and the stars would disappear if he took his eyes off of you for a single second.

A cool breeze played with the ends of your hair, and it threw his bangs into a disarray. You almost reached forward and pushed them back, like you did the first time you had met Rin in his kitchen. But, like that very first time, you chickened out and kept your hands into fists by your side. 

“Thank you for your willingness to listen,” he broke the silence, and your heart plummeted right into your stomach when the redness rimming his eyes came into your focus. 

“Are you sleeping well?” you had no idea why you blurted out such a question. What Rin did in his spare time was none of your concern anymore. And yet… you couldn’t stop your curiosity on his wellbeing. 

He blinked and briefly glanced down at his sneakers. “Um, no. A-are you?” 

The question was meant to sound casually curious, but with Rin, nothing was ever casual. His intensity in hiding his true emotions was as palpable as your shaking hands. Neither of you could keep the truth from the other for too long, or play along with a game that had already decided the heartbroken loser.

You sighed, crossing your arms in front of your body, preferring to stare out at the sliver of calming blue in the distance than his haunted teal eyes. 

“Rin—”

“I’m sorry.” 

Just like that, with no fanfare of emotional blackmail. Itoshi Rin expressed his regret as eloquently as he could—with less words because he was a man of action. And right now, he wanted nothing more than to wrap his arms around you and hold you right above his heartbeat. 

Couldn’t you hear it from where you stood? It only thrummed the cadence of your name. You were written in his every breath from the second he saw you. 

Rin needed you to forgive him because he may actually go insane if you refused to show him any grace. 

His heartbeat was lodged right in his throat, and he stared at you with open want; wishing you would break the distance between the both of you and fall right back into his arms. 

But, you had every right to be angry with him. He was the root cause that destroyed your life; the virus which encroached your every breath and poisoned how the world saw you. 

Your reputation, your home and your job was all gone because of him. It would take a lifetime to atone for his mistakes, and Rin was ready to start now. He would lay himself right at your feet if you so much as asked him to. If you told him that you never wanted to see him again, he would fight to try and change your mind. 

Rin would fight for you, tooth and nail, because that was what a striker did. They would go to the ends of the earth for a goal, and you were one of his biggest aspirations to return to.

The trophies and medals and worldly recognition didn’t matter. 

All Itoshi Rin wanted was you in your pure entirety. 

“I’m sorry for what I did to you. I never meant to hurt you, Y/N. I promise, I—” his breath caught, and the truth spilled from his willing lips onto your unwilling ears that burned with the shame of remembering everything he said before. “—I was stupid and careless with my words. You don’t mean ‘nothing’ to me. You… you mean a lot to… to me…” 

He trailed off, the words right on the tip of his tongue. 

You are my everything, Y/N. I love you. 

It’s just three words. Rin was able to say it. He was able to share his entire soul with you if his mouth would just move. 

Come on, you coward. Tell her what she deserves to hear. Tell her what you’re really feeling. Just tell her—

“I love… I love…”

Like the weight of the world lifting from his shoulders, those words which carried a Universe of meaning were about to fall like the heaviest stars onto your lap. For you to marvel at, for you to hold, or for you to reject—Rin wasn’t sure what you would do. 

He never had a chance to tell you how he really felt before the scandal broke out, and he was paying the price for his big ego. He should’ve told you what you meant to him. He should’ve yelled out to the world how you made his heart sing and how you could make his stone cold soul come back to life with the promise of your new tomorrow.

There were a lot of things Rin should’ve done, and loving you was the only thing he should’ve done right.

You didn’t deserve the half-love he gave you or those harsh words which fractured your trust in him. 

You had made him feel safe when he couldn’t even stay still in his own skin. You were the one person who dared to dig deeper past his cold facade to bring out the boyish side of him begging for love. You patiently mended his broken pieces with your constant patience. You made him feel reassured enough to expose the soft underbelly of his emotions.

You had carried his baby. 

And what did he do?

He broke your heart. He made you feel like you never meant anything to him. He played a big part in destroying your entire life. He had caused you enough stress to lose the gift of love you both created together. 

You had appeared in his life like a ray of light through fractured glass on an ice-cold surface. Slowly, you chipped apart his frosty demeanour, and for the first time in his life, Rin felt like he belonged somewhere. That he belonged with someone. 

Rin had always felt like a stranger everywhere he went, and you were the first one to give him direction in his short life. He wasn’t nurtured by his own mother, barely tolerated by his own father and completely despised by his older brother. 

There were a few people he could count on his fingers who actually cared for him, and you were always at the forefront of his mind whenever that question arose. 

“Y/N,” the words he wanted to say came out as a hitched breath. “I love yo—”

“Rin, please,” your exhausted call of his name stopped him from spilling out those three words which he desperately hoped would change your mind. 

The look on your face was nothing short of pure heartbreak. Even in your dreary uniform, you shone like the brightest star, refracting off his foolish hopes and dreams for a reconciliation when you were still hurting with every breath.

Rin knew this. He knew he had to give you time. But, his time here with you was limited; half of him wanted to let you know the words which burdened heavily on his soul before he had to wait to see you again—if he would ever see you again. 

If you would ever allow him to see you again.

But, judging from your stance to your sombre expression, Rin sensed his chances were slim to none. The desperation clawed at his throat, resting somewhere underneath his ribcage and pulsing with only one sensation.

Hope. 

Rin desperately hoped you would take him back. All he ever wanted was you. 

But, you broke that hope with what you said next, and whether you knew it or not, you stole the last of his sanity when your words hit him like a truck. 

“Everything we did… for you, it was revenge. But, for me… it was love.”

Your watery smile cracked into painful fragments, rivers of anguish carving down your cheeks. His entire chest exploded into stabs of pain. Questions and uncertainties bounced in his brain like a broken record: should he reach out for you? Kiss you? Beg for your forgiveness again?

“I loved you, Itoshi Rin,” you finished your soliloquy quietly, unaware of the storm you set off in his soul, his frozen body desperately stuck in its eye. 

Say something you coward… change her mind… tell her you love her.

But, she loved me. 

Loved. Not love. 

Was he too late? 

Those pesky words clogged the back of his throat, and no matter how much he wanted to spill them out, they wouldn’t budge. Remaining stuck there to rot while he had to watch you slip away from him for the third time in his life. 

The smile you wore did not touch your glossy eyes, and you closed them momentarily, letting the sun burn behind your lids in this last enjoyment of the winter afternoon rays. You opened them to his red-rimmed eyes and quivering lips. You were going to devastate him again, he knew it, but he could not turn around and look away; could not peel his attention from the wreckage waiting to unfurl—your earth-wounding words that would shatter his hopes all over again.

“Even if you have broken my heart into pieces… I just want to say that… I would’ve loved to dance with you again in another lifetime.” 

Loved. Not love. 

You bowed your head, having unloaded all you needed to say and turned around for one final time. 

Rin took one step back, reeling from the surety of your words that were set in stone.

Loved. Not love. 

He really was too late. 

As if an invisible timer signalled the end of this meeting, you bowed your head, trying your best to ignore the devastation imploding on every inch of his expression out of the corner of your eye. 

“I should be going now, Rin,” you muttered softly. “I have to finish my shift… Please, get home safely.”

Home. 

He watched as you gave him a parting, thin smile, and with your arms still wrapped around your torso, you descended down the stairs. Back to your new life and reality without him.

Rin closed his eyes, warding off the intrusive thoughts begging him to just grab you and hold you tight in the seam of his embrace so you would never leave him again. But, he recognized that if he did, you would hate him forever. 

He needed to give you some space. And he needed to finally tell you what was haunting his mind and soul. 

He needed to tell you what he truly felt or else the peace he was desperately seeking would never find him.

It was stupid, but Rin had to try.

And he wouldn’t stop trying until he could finally unburden the secrets of his soul.

Until he could finally tell you how much he loved you without stuttering over his words and keeping them hostage on his traitorous tongue.

I love you. I love you.

Why were those words so hard to say? What could make it easier when he knew with every fibre of his soul that they were true?

Maybe I have to show it to her instead of saying it. 

And just like that, he conjured up a simple idea, one which would lead him right back to you.

But first, he had to win over your younger brother. 

Rin was relentless in pursuing you.

He had another day left in Minabe before his reservation at this shitty ryokan was up and Ego-san would call for a nationwide search to find his best striker. His paltry pile of clothes were packed—reluctantly, he might add—into neat squares in the corner, ready for him to stuff into his suitcase. Implicitly, Rin knew what the outcome of this crazy idea would be, and if his hunch was proven right, he had to leave—and quickly.

He took a look at himself in the floor length mirror, tousling his limp bangs into a semblance of life. Deciding the angle in which they flopped was better than the last, he inhaled deeply and set out to find you once more.

Along the way, Rin stopped to buy a bouquet of flowers. They were pathetic at best—a few limp stems poking from the damp wrapping—but, he knew you loved pink lotuses. They were your favourite; he remembered how you couldn’t keep your eyes off them when the both of you walked past an arrangement perched prettily on a console table during that brief respite on a balcony in Hokkaido. 

With flowers in hand, Rin put on his thickest face, prepared to trudge back into your little umeboshi shop and finally spill out the words lodging in the back of his throat ever since he first saw you in your ridiculously short miniskirt under the light of his mother’s kitchen.

But, when he disembarked from his car, he found the shop locked. Closed for the day.

One quick scan of the plaque hanging by the handle told him that Ume Sanka didn’t open on Tuesdays. 

A lump of coal seemed to settle in the pits of his stomach. He swallowed hard, and doubled back, about to scour the beach for you, when he noticed a woman staring at him from across the street.

“Hello!” she called out to him, in a friendly way most villagers had. She waved him over, her rheumy eyes shining with delight. 

“Oh, how handsome you are,” she cooed, and disregarding personal space, ruffled his hair. 

“Hey—”

Rin snapped his mouth shut when she laughed throatily. “Are you looking for the L/N girl? You must be a suitor from Tokyo trying to win her back. Ah, the old hags at my Go club were wondering for days—why she came back home all of the sudden. Poor girl. She looked so sad—you must’ve been the one to break her heart.”

Though the older woman meant to joke, Rin couldn’t help but feel a stab of guilt. Without a shred of his ego, he nodded.

“Do you know where I can find her?” 

Even to this relative stranger, his desperation was palpable. The older woman chuckled, and lifting one bony finger, pointed down the road. “Her family owns an orchard. Nasty business it was. I’m old enough to remember—her father, what a bastard. He left her mother and moved to some town in the middle of nowhere. The poor woman—bless her heart—tried to keep it together for her family, but she also hightailed it out of here the moment her boy turned two. Only granny was left to take care of the both of them.” 

Unaware of how this young man’s heart was leadened in both despair and grief for never knowing your story, she continued. “Eventually, the orchard was passed to the boy, and the girl—prettiest I’ve ever seen—went to the city to look for work. Honestly, everyone thought she would fail or come back home, belly swollen and heartbroken. But, she’s just fine. A little sad looking, but better than any of us expected.” 

Rin clenched the flowers tighter in his grip, his heart rate tripling. “Thank you. For telling me—and for showing me where she is.” He bowed to this random kind angel, and the older woman looked absolutely delighted. 

“Good luck finding her, young man. You look strong and sure. I think you could win her over.”

Rin sure hoped so, as well. Turning on his heel, he jogged down the cobblestone path, taking a left turn and finding himself in front of a fence. It was opened, and he pushed it slightly, stepping into plush greenery and tall, swaying plum trees. The air smelled ripe and sweet. Rin inhaled greedily, suddenly hyper aware of how this crisp scent was the same one lingering on your neck. 

In the throes of his thoughts, he didn’t sense someone approaching him.

“You. Again.” 

Rin never thought he would’ve been relieved to see your brother, but the second he heard Kenji’s voice, his shoulders sagged.

“Kenji-san. Is Y/N here?” Shamelessly, Rin looked at him eagerly. Kenji’s eyes fell on the bouquet in the other man’s grip. As much as he was debating if he should take this shovel and knock some common sense into this foolish athlete, Kenji hated to admit how much he admired Rin’s determination. 

Wiping droplets of sweat from his brow, he placed the shovel down and shoved his gloved hands into his thick, windbreaker. “You’re never going to give up until you see her, are you?”

Rin had the decency to look sheepish. “I’ll be leaving for France soon. I really would like to see her again.” 

Kenji’s expression was impassioned. “You’re going to get her hopes up. You should leave her alone if you know what’s good for you.”

But, Rin didn’t hear threats or ultimatums. He was only fixated on the goal of seeing you again. 

“Please, Kenji-san.” Despite being younger than the striker, Kenji took one step back, thrown off by the sincerity in that honorific. “You will be doing me a huge favour if I could see her again. I would like to at least pass her these flowers.” 

Kenji eyed the bouquet of lotuses again, remembering how you would hold a similar arrangement whenever you came back from the florist, all flushed and bright-eyed with satisfaction at your bargain. It was that single reminder of what happiness once looked like on your face which made Kenji reconsider.

“If she rejects you again, I have nothing more to say. She’s made her choice.” 

It wasn’t a blessing, but it wasn’t a curse either. Kenji was merely stating the truth. With his heart in his throat, Rin nodded, and Kenji eventually let him go. 

“She’s by the greenhouses. Just remember what I told you, Itoshi.”

Rin would never forget it; he would never forget your brother’s kindness in having this moment with you. 

“I will,” he mumbled, teal eyes filled to the brim with hope. “Thank you… Kenji-san.” 

The day was unusually cold. 

Even a heat pack in your coat pockets couldn’t keep the numb chill from reaching your fingers, and you shivered, biting back on the urge to leave for the warm comforts of your home and abandon your idea of bathing Reina’s jizo in such conditions.

But, you preserved. If you were this cold, imagine what she must be feeling? 

The woollen hat you knitted for her a month ago was placed lopsidedly on her dear, stony head. You chuckled a little, righting it when you sensed another presence behind you.

“Sorry, Kenji. I’m almost done, okay? I’ll help you rake up the roots later.”

Instead of your brother’s gruff tones, it was an unmistakable low rasp which sent a bolt of electricity down your spine.

“You shouldn’t be out here in the cold like this.” 

You gingerly stood up, ignoring the burn in your thighs from crouching down for almost an hour. The tiny stone statue was hidden from her father’s sight, your hands clawing over the small pail. Frightfully, you wondered how he would react once he saw her—the hatred he must feel towards you for keeping her existence a secret till the very last dire minute.  

Steadying your breathing, you exhaled, “How’d you find me?” 

He was holding a bouquet of lotuses, you noted in shock. The pink blooms looked starkly out of place in an orchard starting to wither from the impending winter. 

“Here.” With the grace of a little boy in church tasked to pass a lighted candle to a girl who always made him blush, Rin thrusted the bouquet underneath your nose. You set the pail down, taking it—unable to break the baffled silence. 

The tips of his ears were red, and Rin shifted his gaze to the ground, struggling to find the right words. “I asked your brother. He told me you’d be here.” Summoning his courage, he looked you in the eye. “I meant what I asked yesterday—I want to help with your store. Take me on as an employee.” 

You blinked. Your fingers were tingling, the cold settling into your bones. You wanted to stuff your hands into your coat pockets but they were curled around freezing stems. A part of you was unsure of where to look or how to best give light to the incredulity burning through your thoughts. “Don’t be silly. You have a career in football.” 

“So?” he argued back, a furrow in his brow. “I would give it all up.” For you. 

He didn’t add that last sentence. He didn’t have to. 

You shifted from one foot to another. “No.” Your tired eyes met his, and you refused to be bowed by his determination. “Go home, Rin.” Exhausted, defeated. You wished he would leave you alone in your exile. Passing him the bouquet back, you softened your rejection with a frail, “Go home—go back to Tokyo.”

Rin had no choice but to take the flowers back with an uncertain look; his shoulders drooped, his eyes falling back to the ground. A loose leaf was shaken out of the arrangement, floating to the floor. He was silent for a few moments, before he said: “Come back to Tokyo.” With me. 

Your heart squeezed. “And do what?” your whisper deepened the chasm between you two. 

He swallowed. “Stay with me. I can get you a job. PXG needs more hands and you can start fresh and—”

“Rin,” your eyes welled with tears. “Stop. You know I don’t belong in Tokyo.” I don’t belong with you. 

“Who said that?” he demanded, taking one step forward. “You belong there. You do.” You belong with me.

You shook your head, forcing a smile on your frozen lips. “I don’t,” your whisper sliced through his defiance, leaving him depleted of hope. “My life is here, with my brother and…” you hesitated, and his eyes flickered to the spot behind your calf. 

He had noticed your biggest secret, his expression folding open in quiet disbelief.

It was useless to hide the truth, and you stepped aside, showing him the jizo statue of a little girl with a peaceful, smiling face and closed eyes. The pail of water and your nervous demeanour suddenly made sense.

“Is that…?” 

His voice disappeared between incredulity and grief. Rin subconsciously took one step forward. You didn’t stop him and he took another until he was standing a foot away from you, absorbed in the tiny details of this stone statue believed to guide an unborn baby’s spirit and protect them in the afterlife. Assuming responsibility for the parents who had failed her in the real world. 

The little cap you had made for her, the mittens that adorned her hands. Rin felt the lump in his throat thicken. 

You were stricken with grief, nodding. Rin looked to you, and the anguish written on his face mirrored your own deep sorrow. 

The both of you stared at the little stone statue—the baby girl conceived into the world betrayed by your own body and his deception. 

Rin’s shoulders curved forward, as if to curl within his own self-hatred. Your haunted gaze touched the jizo, and you slowly got onto the ground, ignoring the cold to tuck your legs into a demure, side sitting position. Inviting him to join you with a simple nod. He sat next to you, cross-legged, fingers an inch away from your own. 

Without looking to you for permission, Rin set the shunned bouquet right in front of her stony smile; all of his overwhelming love and your crippling regret with nowhere to go—except to a little girl who was painfully wanted by both her star-crossed parents only after she no longer existed.  

You yearned to take his hand, hold it and reassure yourself that everything was okay. But, at the last second of your crumbling willpower, you shifted your hand further from his, rocking back. 

Rin’s silence stretched on. 

Above you, the trees rustled in the wind, branches clacking together. You began to shiver, and before you could protest, Rin’s arm came to wrap around you. Sharing his body heat together with you. Despite your reservations, you rested your head on his shoulder, letting yourself be weak in this instance and cave into his embrace. 

No words were shared. Both of your breaths were stuttered, and you swore you felt a tear trickle into your hair. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispered hoarsely. “I know you don’t trust me, but I just want you to know… not a day goes by that I don’t regret everything.” 

His watery eyes traced the statue’s serene face. You didn’t absolve him of his monstrosities, but neither did you want this moment to be over. So, you sighed brokenly and admitted the first thing that came into mind. 

“I dream of her all the time, you know.” 

His silence welcomed you to spill your sorrowful secrets into his waiting shoulder. “She’s always smiling. Laughing. She’s beautiful.”

Rin recalled the dream he had on the day where everything had gone wrong; of a little girl with sparkling teal eyes and an infectious giggle. He bowed his head forward, lips pressed into your hair. “I dreamt of her, too. Tiny. With my dark hair and eyes. And your smile.” 

“Your eyes,” you echoed uselessly. “My smile.” 

He kissed your temple again. “So beautiful.” 

You fell into a thick disquiet. Rin rubbed your arm, giving you more of his heat. 

“You should go back to Tokyo,” you started, squeezing your eyes shut and refusing to submit to the sobbing voice in the back of your mind begging for him to stay. “It’s where you belong.” When Rin didn’t say a single word, you continued. “Go to France. Win the World Cup. Be happy, Rin. Forget about everything that happened and start anew.” 

Forget about me. 

You didn’t add that last sentence. You didn’t have to. 

“I don’t want to forget everything,” he began in a quiet voice, staring at the stone effigy of his lost daughter. “I don’t want to forget her.” Or, you. 

“You won’t,” you replied simply, with more surety than he could’ve imagined. “She’s with us. Always.” Before you could stop yourself, you gently plucked one mitten from the statue’s hand and pressed it into his larger palm. “Take this. It’ll remind you of her.” And hopefully, me. 

Rin shook his head, about to argue when you echoed an empty laugh. “I’ll make her a new one. I won’t leave her fingers cold—don’t worry.” This time, he couldn’t fight back the tears welling in his eyes, pressing the woven mit into his jacket pocket, wishing he could say something—anything—to change your mind.

But, he didn’t. He had said all he had to say. 

Rin removed his arm and got back to his feet. Your face was hidden by your hair when you stood up, too. He scanned the area, looked back at the statue and then to you. 

You were smiling, haunted and broken, but smiling, nonetheless. Even when you had suffered the most—even when you had left behind everything you held dear and lived a half-life in this tiny village. You still smiled, and for that, Itoshi Rin would never forgive himself. 

“I’ll wait for you,” he blurted out. Your smile slipped and he hastened his words. “You need time, I understand. I can wait for a few years. Or, a year, if you want to speed things up.” 

His lame attempt at a joke made you chuckle weakly. “Rin—”

“I’m not giving up on us,” he said quietly. Your wide eyes latched onto him, whether with fear or admiration, he did not know. “It will take a lot to get me to forget you, L/N Y/N. I hope you know that.” 

He didn’t give you a chance to destroy his hopes. Rin walked away, head bent low and hands in his pockets, fiddling with the tiny mitten you had gifted him. 

Rin tightened his grip on the piece of cloth. There were just some things a person can never push out of their mind no matter how hard they tried. It would linger in their memories, burying into their subconscious. Embedded in their every breath and thought. Like a comet. 

You were a comet in his short life, brilliant and streaking his sky with every shade of colour, Rin feared that if he took his eyes off you, his life would go back to black and white. 

The young man meant what he said. 

He could never forget you.

Not ever in his lifetime.

©️ all works belong to lalunanymph. do not copy, repost, translate and share to other sites.

[girlrotterr]

Ultraviolence pt.3

farm!ellie x fem!reader TW!: references to alcohol and substance abuse, along with instances of emotional and verbal abuse. Mentions of miscarriage and PTSD. a/n: the final chapterr!! so internally grateful for all the support this series received. I appreciate you angels & send all my love

read part 1! read part 2!

You took a deep breath, choosing your words carefully.

‘We both knew the risks. You didn't force me to come with you. We made that decision together," you said, trying to reason with her.

She shot you a glare, her eyes red and filled with anger. "Don't make fucking excuses."

The room turned cold. She wiped away her tears with a rough motion, revealing a hardness in her eyes that hadn't been there before.

"I lost everything. All those people I killed, all the pain I caused, and for what? Nothing. Revenge didn't bring them back. It just left me with a trail of fucking corpses."

You reached out to touch her shoulder, hoping to provide some comfort, but she shrugged it off. 

"Don't fucking touch me. I don't need your pity," Ellie snapped, her voice cutting through the air like a blade.

The warmth that once existed between you had disintegrated, leaving only a cold, bitter residue. She stood up abruptly, storming out of the kitchen. You stood there for a moment, feeling the sharp sting of Ellie's words. For one final time.

Taking a deep breath, you composed yourself and followed after her into the living room. Ellie took a seat on the couch, retrieving a cigarette from her pocket. Her hands trembled as she attempted to calm herself. With puffy eyes, she avoided your gaze, her eyes darting away from yours.

"Ellie, I can't stay here like this. I can't watch you destroy yourself," you said, your voice steady "If you won't let me help, if you won't let anyone in, then I can't be a part of this. I can't keep trying to fix something that you're determined to break."

Ellie turned to face you, anger simmering in her eyes, a huge shift from the vulnerability she had shown moments ago. "So that's it, huh? You're going to leave?"

"It's not about leaving," you replied, meeting her gaze. "I’ve realized that I can't force you to change. I can't make you confront the past if you're not willing to face it yourself."

Her jaw tightened. 

"I can't do it anymore, Ellie!" you continued, your voice with frustration. "I can't stand by and watch you destroy everything, including our family. The constant anger, the distance, it's not fair to him, it's not fair to me."

A flicker of anxiety passed through Ellie's eyes, so quick you almost missed it. But it was there, a crack in her facade. 

"I found a place," you confessed, "Maria.. helped me. It's a small house.” 

Ellie clenched her fist tighter, her nails practically piercing right through her skin. "You can't just take him away from me."

"I'm saving what's left of our family." you shot back, "He deserves a stable environment, one where he doesn't have to-."

Ellie suddenly got up, her eyes begging, yet her body language was saying something entirely different. Trembling, her fists clenched, and her gaze locked onto you with worry. No, it wasn't just worry—it was raw, genuine fear. The very fear she dreaded most was happening right before her eyes. You were leaving. Taking your son with you, and leaving her behind. Ellie's hands quivered, her nails digging so deeply into her palms that they burned. 

Her breathing came in shallow gasps, her chest rising and falling rapidly as she struggled to calm herself. "Please,.." she whispered, "Don't…leave..me"

"Ellie..." Your voice quivered, torn between your own fear and wanting to comfort her.

But she wasn't finished. With desperation, she took a step closer, her voice trembling as she continued, "You can't do this. p-please, don't take him away from me. I-I..need you both. I can't... I can't do this alone."

You felt a lump form in your throat. 

"We’re leaving." you finally said, your voice remaining firm. 

Desperation and anger flashed in Ellie's eyes. "No, no, no!" she cried out, her voice turning into a panicked plea. "You can't just abandon me. I-Iwon't let you."

Ellie bolted towards the stairs, her footsteps hard against the wooden steps. Panic rushed through you, followed behind her, fearing what she might do next. As you reached the top of the staircase, you saw Ellie rushing towards your child's room.

"Ellie, stop!" you shouted, your heart racing.

But she ignored you, flinging open the door to your child's room. Panic and confusion gripped you as you chased after her. 

"Ellie, please!" you pleaded, your voice trembling with desperation.

She turned to face you, desperation on her face. "If you leave, I'm taking him with me. I won't let you take him away!"

Your heart thumped in your chest as Ellie's trembling hands reached for your child. In a flash, she scooped him into her arms, holding him protectively against her chest. His innocent eyes widened in confusion, fear surrounding him.

"No! Ellie, stop it!" you cried out, reaching out to her.

But she clutched him tighter, her voice trembling. "No! n-not yet.. It's too soon! I... I haven't... I haven't..."

The realization struck you. Ellie’s words trailed off. She was lost in a moment of painful memory. She was thinking of Joel. The wounds of their relationship still raw and unhealed. Your child in her arms was a symbol, a fragile connection to the past that haunted her.

"Ellie..." Your voice softened, the weight of her grief finally making sense."It's not him. He's safe. You're safe."

Tears welled up in Ellie's eyes as she clung to your child, her shaking grip. "I... I couldn't save him. I couldn't save him..."

The weight of her words settled in the room, and you finally understood the depth of her pain. It wasn't just about you leaving; it was the fear of losing the people she cared about, a fear rooted so far deep in the scars of her past.

Your child, looked up at Ellie with innocent eyes. "What's wrong mommy ?" the small voice asked. 

Ellie's gaze shifted to him, pain and guilt plastered on her face. She couldn't find the words to answer, her throat tightening.

"Mommy, why are you sad?" he continued, he needed to know what was wrong. He couldn’t stand to see Ellie like this. 

Ellie's breath hitched, pulling the child even closer to her chest. The room seemed to trap her, the walls closing in as if they were tightening, her grip on your child's arms remained. As if he was her only form of escape. 

"I..I won’t.." Ellie mumbled, almost to herself, her voice strained.

Your child’s worry grew, he turned to look at you, needing an answer. You knew you had to do something, but what?

"Ellie, please, just listen to me," you pleaded, taking slow steps towards her.

"g-get away!" she yelled, holding onto your child even tighter, her hands clenching around his small arms.

"ow!" he yelped, a sudden pain in his voice.

Your heart raced with a surge of panic. You didn’t want him to be involved in this.

"please, just let him go, and we can talk about thi-"

"Shut the fuck up!" Ellie yelled, her voice vibrating throughout the entire room.

Your child's eyes began to water, his anxiety growing with each passing second. He didn't know what to think or do. 

"m..mommy, i-it hurts.." he hiccuped, looking up at Ellie with stained cheeks, tears streaming down like rivers.

Ellie's mind was in complete disarray, buzzing with countless thoughts that raced with chaos. Her hands shook, her body unable to find stillness. Her eyebrows furrowed as she struggled to gather herself. Adrenaline surged through her veins, her breaths coming in heavy uneven gasps. She couldn't focus on anything anymore; all her senses were useless. 

A ringing began to buzz in her ears, her eyes frantically scanning the room, catching a glimpse of you, your lips moving as you tried to speak to her. But the ringing was so unbearable, drowning out any sound.

"ELLIE!" your voice pierced right through it. 

───

“ELLIE!” 

Ellie snapped her neck towards the shout of her name, eyes widening as she took in the sight before her.

There you stood, hands trembling, your shirt drenched in blood, the crimson liquid slowly seeping onto the damp grass. Your eyes were wide, on the verge of bursting. filled with an overflow of tears. Your legs shook, threatening to give way at any moment, knees weakened by the sharp pain from the blade lodged in your lower stomach, Your throat felt strained, as if ellie’s name was all you could speak. 

Frantically, Ellie ran towards you, her heart pounding against her chest. With each step, she stumbled, her breath quickening.

no..No..NO!! 

As Ellie reached you, a rush of tears burst from your eyes, your face covered in salty droplets that slid down your quivering lips.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck!" Ellie exclaimed in panic, her hands moving frantically as she tried to figure out what to do. "H-Here, baby, lay down," she urged, her voice trembling as she tried to stay strong. 

Ellie gently guided you to lie down, your entire body ached with anguish, trembling as you grunted in pain, trying to remain as quiet as possible. Not wanting to attract any attention. 

You were completely surrounded by the WLF. 

You sank into the damp grass, the earth stained with blood, the sharp scent of iron filling the air. Ellie knelt beside you, her hands trembling as she stared down at you.

"I need something to stop the bleeding," she muttered to herself, her eyes darting around.

"s-stay with me, please," she pleaded, her voice trembling with fear. With swift movements, she tore fabric from her own shirt, clutching it tightly in her shaking hands.

"I'm going to t-take it out... okay?" she said nervously, her gaze fixated on your stomach.

You weakly reached for Ellie's, your own hands completely bloodied from clutching your abdomen. Ellie looked at you, her eyes watering, her gaze filled with terror.

"I got you." she said, leaning forward and placing a kiss on your forehead. The softness of her pink lips being the only warm sensation your body felt. You closed your eyes, hiccuping as silent sobs shook your body. 

You nodded weakly, unable to utter a single word. The pain was too overwhelming, threatening to consume you if you let out even a whimper.

Ellie nodded back, a gesture of readiness. She placed her right hand on your stomach, shaking uncontrollably as she made contact with your cold skin. 

You brought the side of your hand up to your mouth, pressing your teeth into it to suppress the agony.

Ellie reached for the handle of the blade, her hand hesitating as if she were afraid of the very object she needed to hold. Her heart sank as she drew closer to it, her hands finally gripping around it with a shaky grip.

She knew what she was about to do. Pulling out the blade meant unleashing a flow of blood, a sign that your baby's life would be lost along with it. It meant she would have to endure yet another loss of someone she deeply loved.

Ellie's mind raced, her breath quickening with every passing thought. Tears streamed down her face, her chest rising rapidly with the weight of the decision before her. Her lips quivered as she bit down on her bottom lip. 

What she would give to be the one to die instead. 

The baby she could've raised.

Her hand tightened around the knife.

The baby she had dreamed of carrying.

Swiftly, Ellie pulled the blade, the sharp "shling!" sound muffling your groans as blood began to pour out.

The baby she would've killed for.

Urgently, Ellie applied the torn cloth to your wound, her hands working quickly despite their shaking. She pressed down firmly, trying to control the flow of blood as best as she could.

You clenched your teeth, suppressing the cries of pain that wanted to escape your lips. Every movement sent waves of agony through your body, but you gritted your teeth and endured. Your face was completely drenched in tears and snot. 

You had lost everything—the future you had daydreamed about.

Ellie's arms shook as she patched you up, her body convulsing with sobs, her bottom lip bitten to muffle them. Tears streamed down her face, falling onto your skin.

"Ellie.." you whispered, your voice barely a breath. 

───

"Ellie.." you repeated.

You stood before her, your presence causing her eyes to flicker as if what was before her was unreal. Ellie's gaze dropped to your child, his head resting gently against her chest. For a moment, it seemed she had disappeared entirely, lost in a memory. 

"I..." Ellie began, her voice choked as she looked back up at you, tears glistening in her eyes. "I can't keep running from it.." 

"I need to face it.” Ellie continued, her tone serious. "For you, for our child... for myself. I need to change, to become someone you can rely on, someone worthy of your love."

Your heart pounded, each beat a flicker of hope. You realized in that moment, the true reason you couldn't fully accept Ellie's presence this morning. Despite her being in bed with you after months of being absent, she remained unrecognizable. She wasn't the woman you had fallen for, the woman who once held a place in your heart. 

"I'll.. find you again, I promise," Ellie said finally, her voice firm. "No matter what it takes, I'll find my way back to you."

Finally. 

Ellie's words created something, a belief that maybe, just maybe, things could change for the better.

With tear-filled eyes, you gently squeezed her hand.

— 

Tommy’s truck sat parked in the driveway, hauling boxes filled with you and your child’s belongings. With a heavy sigh, you struggled to carry one of the larger boxes towards the truck.

“That’s a heavy one, let me get it for ya,” Tommy offered, stepping forward to take it.

“Thank you,” you replied gratefully

“No problem,” he responded with a chuckle, making his way towards the truck. 

As Tommy loaded the remaining boxes, you took a moment to glance around the mostly-empty house. Most of its decorations had been packed away, leaving the space feeling a bit bare., Ellie’s belongings being the only ones untouched. 

"Mama! Mama!" Your child's voice yelled, filled with excitement as he raced towards you. "I checked the whole house and no more boxes!"

You smiled proudly at him. "Thank you, honey," you said, reaching out to ruffle his hair as he giggled happily.

You had explained to him that you were moving into a new home, and that Ellie wouldn't be joining you right away. Instead, she would stay at the farmhouse, protecting it from monsters until she was sure it was safe. Only then would she come to live with you. It was the easiest way to explain the situation to him, and he had undoubtedly understood.

"Hey," Ellie called out as she walked outside 

"Hey," you greeted, offering her a warm smile. "We're all ready to go."

She nodded softly, her gaze shifting to your child. "Did you secure the house?"

Your child giggled, rushing towards Ellie and embracing her tight hug before doing a playful salute. "All clear!"

Ellie chuckled, ruffling your child's hair playfully. "Good job, kiddo."

"Alright, everything's packed and ready to roll," Tommy announced, clasping his hands together. "Oh, but uh, mind if I use yer bathroom real quick?"

Ellie nodded, gesturing towards the house. "Door to your left."

"Gotcha," Tommy replied, hurrying inside.

Ellie approached you, her steps hesitant. She reached for your hand, her touch gentle as she caressed it softly with her thumb. The sensation of your skin against hers stirred something deep within her, a longing she hadn't realized she harbored so intensely.

"I..." Ellie hesitated. She wanted to say the words, those three simple words that held so much. But she knew she didn't have the right to utter them, not yet. She had to prove herself, show you that she was worthy of saying them, and that you could believe in them too.

As you gazed into her eyes, you saw her determination. It was a silent promise, to do whatever it took to earn back your trust and love. 

"make us..believe again," you said, meeting her gaze. 

Ellie nodded firmly.

You offered Ellie a final smile before lifting your child into your arms. "Take care, Els,"

"Take care, Mommy! Keep the monsters away!" your child chimed in.

"I will," Ellie replied, her voice filled with reassurance as she waved goodbye to both of you while you walked towards the truck.

Tommy emerged from the house, embracing Ellie before stepping back and shaking her hand firmly. "Be safe," he said.

"Don't worry," Ellie responded, feeling the paper Tommy slipped into her hand. "I am."

With a firm nod, Tommy walked away towards the truck, getting inside and starting the engine. As the truck began to move, Ellie waved goodbye, your child's head poking out of the window as he waved back. The truck slowly but surely disappeared into the distance,.

Ellie lowered her hand from waving goodbye, clutching the paper tightly in her grasp. With heavy steps, she entered the house, shutting the door behind her with a loud thud. Throwing the folded paper onto the kitchen table, she quickly ascended the stairs to your old shared bedroom.

Opening the door, Ellie headed directly for the closet, rummaging through it until her fingers found the familiar grip of her shotgun—the same one she had drunkenly tried finding that one night. Gotcha.

Snatching up her packed backpack, Ellie hurried back downstairs, clutching her shotgun firmly. At the kitchen table, she placed her bag on its surface, extracting shotgun shells and loading them into the weapon. Placing the gun on the table before unfolding the paper.

A tourist map of Seattle.

Ellie's lips curled into a smirk as she scanned the map thoroughly. "Huh, you’re still there," she muttered, eagerness coursing through her veins.

Stuffing the map into her pocket and slinging her backpack over her shoulders, Ellie grabbed her shotgun once more. With ease, she cocked the weapon, the familiar click echoing.

She was truly going to face her past.

[blingblong55]

Bigger than the whole sky- Simon "Ghost" Riley

Photo credits: @ave661

Based on a request:

HI SO I READ YOUR RECENT NO JUDGEMENT AND ITS AWESOME AND INCREDIBLY WHOLESOME BTW BUT PLEASE CAN YOU MAKE IT ANGST??!?!?????? LIKE LIKE HEAR ME OUT. YOU GOT PREGGO WITH ANOTHER BEBE AND A MISCARRIAGE HAPPENS, YOU THINK ITS ALL YOUR FAULT AND IDK FALLS INTO SLIGHT DEPRESSION AND STUFF LIKE THAT IDK I JUST WANT ANGST <333333333 ---- F!Reader, pregnant!reader, husband!simon, TW! Mentions of miscarriage, dad!ghost ---- A/N: I love this idea and major TW!

It was a dream all over again, the excitement to have yet another little one in the place Simon and you call home. You are around three months along. Your soon-to-be oldest child kisses your soft belly. Simon chuckles, "I think we know who the favourite relative will be." A smile appears on you. This is all too perfect.

"Alright lovie, we'll let you go and decorate. You need us, we'll be playing outside," he kisses your forehead. The puppy, kid and Simon all race to the backyard. Giggles and barks follow along and you make your merry way to the nursery.

As Simon is running around the backyard with the kid and the puppy, you feel cramps. The pain is more intense and it's of concern.

As you rush to the bathroom, you feel it. Warm, thick liquid runs down your thighs and to the ground. In a hurry, you call out for Simon, who in a rush, carries your child with him to the room. "Lovie?!" His voice filled with panic and once he saw the blood, his heart nearly stopped. Tears run down your face.

"Oh god lovie," he says with a frown. With strength, he picks you up with his free arm, your child in the other and he rushes to the car.

The way to the emergency room was filled with tears, panic and a lot of reassurance.

Nurses wheel you in, Simon and your child fight to stay with you but the doctors don't let them. A nurse stays with him. She begins to try and get their minds off you for a second and as hard as it seems, it is the only thing she can do.

While this worked with his kid, it didn't for him. "Just, be careful with her, she's pregnant and we need her in our lives." He says between silent tears. "I can reassure you the doctors are doing all they can to help your wife."

Nearly an hour into being under the care of doctors and staff, they let Simon and your kid in.

The room is thick in silence and fear.

"Lovie, what's wrong?"

"I'm sorry," you cry. There is shame in you. Guilt and utter disgust for yourself fills you.

"Sorry for what?" He says almost unaware of the situation.

"Mummy?"

"I'm so sorry, Tommy," you cry. How can one tell their son the baby died? How can one accept this piece of their life?

There are things one can't say, things one can't feel and some things will never be.

"Lovie, tell me, what's the matter?"

"…The baby-fetus…i…I miscarried," you confess between mumbles that cover your mouth as tears fall like a waterfall. Your hand goes to the now empty belly. The fetus that would never grow now sits elsewhere as you grieve its death.

At home, the sun sets. Curtains stay open since no one is home. The nursery loses its colour with the sun. All is silent. No one is home, no one will be home for a while more.

In the pale grey room, Simon holds his son in his arms. The small child is asleep in the comfort of his father's arms. Meanwhile, Simon's stare is on you. A frown is now temporary on him. The sight in front of him is of you.

Distraught by the news, you've denied food.

Two nurses come into the room, and in their hands, a teddy named Angel. You look up. "We are so sorry for your loss, we wanted to gift you, your very own angel," the main nurse says. She hands it to you, the weight of it is comforting, you look up and give them a knowing look.

In the darkness of the night, Simon stays awake. You hold the teddy as you sleep.

"I will always love you," he whispers to the teddy and then to his son who still sleeps in his arms. "I love you more," Simon whispers once more as he kisses your forehead.

Light comes back in, the only giggle is of your son who plays with the teddy. You haven't been able to stop the tears.

What would have been? Two little kids running around, the mindless babble. The beautiful sound of a baby giggling is something you won't experience.

You and Simon haven't said much since you told him the news but he never left your side. His hand has been glued to yours for this time and as you look at him, you have this stare that begs for forgiveness. You cup his face and he nods, "I love you too," he says the words he understands you too wanted to say.

Days pass, and you lay in bed. Simon has been home, and not once has he touched his phone. He lives his days giving you all the care and love you need. His son sees him more, the car rides to school are filled with some tune and as he drives back, you find yourself back in the nursery.

The blood was now gone from the floor, all that stayed in the room was the crib and the teddy.

The walk to the room is painful, the sight of the kitchen makes you frown. All the food you craved now disgusts you. The clothes you wore to hide the bump are hidden.

Now, as you lay in bed, you believe this is some sort of punishment. The day is beautiful outside, if only that angel would be here to listen to you as you describe it.

You want to take it all back. The annoyance when your son left his toys everywhere when he was learning how to walk to different places. You want to clean the crayon marks on the wall again, you want the sleepless nights, and the silly little babbles and Simon just nodding and pretending words were said.

"I would've met you in five months…" you say to the wall. You needed something, just a second with that baby. One smile, or even for it to hear you say you love them beyond the world.

You'd give anything to have done anything right. The once colourful room now feels like it's covered in blue.

As you lay in bed, that's when you wish you'd just di- "Lovie?" Simon was back from dropping Tommy off at school. When he doesn't hear your response, he walks to you, wrapping his arms around you and then picking you up, bringing you to his lap as he lays back, your head on his chest. "Let it out, it's okay, I'm here," he whispers.

Sobs escape your lips. You cry, and in between the tears, you keep asking why.

You're not enough, are you? Losing this feels like it.

"Simon-" "Don't go there, it isn't your fault, you did everything right and maybe it just wasn't time for us to have another one but don't you dare speak about yourself like that." His voice is soft but there is some commanding tone behind it all.

Some time passes, and Simon has been home this whole time. He grieves with you, and you with him.

You finally come to terms with this and on some beautiful day, your son organises a picnic in the backyard. A blanket laid upon the grass, tea, snacks, lots of laughter and much talk greets you. For the first time since the miscarriage, you feel it, that funny feeling when all is well and your heart slowly heals.

"I love you," Your son happily says. "To the moon and back," Simon and you say back at the same time.

A/N: Tagged all those on the list...so sorry for not making a "comment to be tagged"...surprise comeback????

Tags: @goldenmclaren @ghostslillady @moonsua1 @rvivienner @Krinoid24 @iruzias @idklols @saoirse06 @vampsquerade @juneonhoth @tiredmetalenthusiast @jinxxangel13 @enarien @simonssweetgirl @luvecarson @willowaftxn83-87 @coralwitchdreamland @nobodys-coffee @strawberrychita @sae1kie @queen-ilmaree @pbcartii @llelannie @macnches2 @bbyfimmie @avidreadee123 @talooolaaloolla @skelletonwitch @bittermajesties @honestlyhiswife @ikohniik @who-can-appease-me @ghostwifeyy @konigssultwithghost @kaoyamamegami @beansproutmafia @soapybutt17 @asianbutnotjapanese @a-goose-with-a-knife @foxface013 @anonxasian @thegreyjoyed @marshiely

[whatsk-poppinhomies]

Pairing : idol!Lee Felix x F!Reader TW : suggestive ; mentions of previous miscarriage ; slightly suggestive ; pregnancy ; childbirth ; angsty ; but with a happy ending ; Word Count : 4.8k Request : please could u do a part 2. to the miscarriage fic with felix ? it would be so cute to see them trying again when felix has a short break between tours - and them being successful and he tells STAY about his new son/daughter A/N :YES I CAN!! I LOVE WRITING PART TWO HAPPY ENDINGS! AND FELIX DESERVES HIS HAPPY ENDING!!

It was hard, and while no one had ever said that it would be easy, he never thought that it would be this hard. Some nights you’d still wake up crying and he’d always be there to hold you, to comfort you and tell you that it would be okay. Usually your tears would lead to his own beginning to fall, and his hands would instinctively wrap around your stomach that he knew was empty, but he couldn’t seem to let it go, as if rubbing it enough would somehow magically bring back what the both of you had lost. 

The door to the room that was intended to be the nursery was indefinitely locked, the sight of the ultrasound photos that had been framed and hung up on the wall after every doctor's appointment only served as another painstaking memory of what he hadn’t been there for, what he had left you alone to handle. The guilt was something that weighed heavily on him, and no matter how many times you tried to tell him that it was okay, that it wasn’t his fault, no amount of time would lift that weight off of him. 

Time surely doesn’t heal all wounds, but it does at some point make it easier… Easier to go about the day without breaking down in tears, easier to go back to work without becoming overwhelmed by the sense of loss that at first seemed to hit at the strangest times. Time made it easier to move on, although neither of you would never forget, and the memory of your little nugget would always stay with the both of you. 

“Angel baby!” Felix shouted as he ran through the front door, breathless, although there was a wide smile on his face and his eyes were sparkling brighter than all of the stars in the sky right now. He was on a promotional tour around the country, doing fansigns and all of the things that management said he and the guys had to do. It’s not like he was going far, but your house was far from everything that they did, so he’d usually stay in the dorms during promotions. He wasn’t due back for another two weeks, so you couldn’t contain your excitement at the sight of him. 

“Lixie!” You screamed, dropping what you were doing and running to the door to wrap your arms around him, his lips immediately crashing against your lips, his hands moving to your hips as he used one of his feet to kick the door shut, and then he was leading you, blindly, towards the bedroom. “What are you doing? Aren’t you hungry? Did you eat already?” You asked once you pulled back, extremely flustered by the suddenness, although you didn’t exactly mind it either. 

“We’ll eat later… I got a whole week off from promotions to be here…” He said as he gently laid you down on the bed, and your eyebrows lowered questioningly as you looked at him. It wasn’t an anniversary, it wasn’t a holiday, it was neither of your birthdays coming up. He sheepishly bit his lip as he looked around the room, as if the answer was somewhere in there, and then his eyes landed on you again, a nervous chuckle escaping him. “Well I’ve been… tracking and… It says that you’re… ovulating…” 

Your hands that had been holding onto his biceps quickly fell and landed against your face, shielding you from his gaze and hiding your look of embarrassment in your palms. “Felix…” You whispered, your voice coming out as a squeak. Of course, it wasn’t just that you were embarrassed, there was a certain fear that ate away at you at the mention, the mere thought of trying again. 

“I know… I know you’re scared…” He murmured, gently grabbing your hands and pulling them away from your face before lacing his fingers between your own. “I’m scared too… But it’s been months… And I think we should try again…” His lips were light as a feather as he dragged them along your jaw, creating a trail of hot breath along your chin and up your cheek until he reached the corner of your lips. “Things will be okay…” 

The entire week that he took off from promotions was spent trying, and trying, and trying again. He was so soft, so sweet, so delicate with you, murmurs of how he couldn’t wait to have a baby with you whispered in your ear when he was on top of you. You didn’t know how he had so much energy, he was going nonstop, and you swore that by the end of the week you wouldn’t even be able to stand. 

A month later when your period was late and you took a test, you weren’t shocked to find that you were pregnant, but you were terrified, unable to even allow yourself to become excited as you stared at the two dark lines on the stick. You weren’t sure if you’d be able to go through that kind of loss again, especially since the first loss still heavily affected you. 

When it came time to tell Felix, you could barely get the words out of your mouth, so you opted for just showing him the stick as tears slowly trickled down your cheeks. He fell to his knees on the floor, choked out sobs of happiness filling the otherwise silent room as his arms wrapped around your waist and his forehead rested against your stomach. 

It took the two of you a bit to calm down, he just held you on the couch, his sobs slowly dying down into quiet sniffles as he hid his face in your hair. Soft vows to never leave you this time around, to be there for every single doctor's appointment, to take care of you, to just be with you through the whole pregnancy were made as he pulled you against his chest, laying back on the couch with you on top of him. Now that he knew you were pregnant he didn’t want to let you go. 

He was quick to tell management what was going on, and they congratulated the two of you, letting you both know that if there was anything that you might need, they’d be there to help. Felix didn’t hesitate, letting them know that from now on, he wouldn’t be doing any overseas tours, not until his child was born. He refused to leave you for longer than 12 hours a day, and he let it be known that his phone would always be on so that if you needed anything, he’d be able to get to you as soon as possible. 

Felix wasn’t taking any chances, and the guilt that had been plaguing him growing almost tenfold now, a constant reminder than while it hadn’t been his fault exactly… He wasn’t there when you needed him… He’d do better this time, not just for you, but for his baby too. 

He also knew that with the constant breaks from his usual schedule, even with an announcement from the agency, the fans would come looking for answers, at least the crazy ones. You needed to be protected always, even when he wasn’t there, he made sure that security was always located at the front of the house and in the back. He wasn’t taking any chances, there was too much at stake, and he knew that once everything was okay he’d be able to tell STAY, but for now, you and the baby were his top priority, his number one concern. 

The months seemed to pass a lot slower now, every night allowed hi to let out a sigh of relief that nothing had gone wrong, but every morning when he’d wake up he’d inwardly panic, wondering whether this would be the day that everything went bad, the day where you both would be made to suffer once more. 

Month 3 was the biggest hurdle, looming in the distance, and when that month finally came and passed without any problems, it felt like you both could finally just breathe. The rest of the guys knew how scared Felix had been, they could see it in the way he was, his mind preoccupied during practice, even when they were just talking, he always seemed so distant. They knew what it was about, and they could also see that he had visibly relaxed once he felt like the two of you were in the clear. 

You had said that he could tell STAY during the 5th month, and although you still were telling him that by then it should be safe to do so, he didn’t feel like any month was safe. Until his baby was out of your stomach and in the world, he wasn’t telling anyone anything. He didn’t want to get his hopes up. Plus, you hadn’t even reached the 5th month, you were still in month 4 and although he could breathe easier, he wasn’t far enough away from that third month to fully be at ease. 

“Practice time?” You asked from the couch, the remote resting against the little bump that was beginning to form. God, he had been so happy to see it when he first noticed, his hands immediately drawn to your protruding stomach as the brightest smile spread across his face. Since then, he couldn’t seem to stop touching it, rubbing your stomach as his tears seemed to habitually form now. 

“Mmm… Only for a couple hours, I won’t be gone for more than five hours though, I won’t allow it.” He said, pausing at the back of the couch and leaning over it to kiss your cheek and then straining to press his lips to your stomach. “What are you gonna do while I’m gone?” 

It was a common question that he asked before he ever went anywhere without you. He felt like he needed to know, just to make sure that you were okay, even though the security that was placed around the house were given keys just in case they heard something or if you called for help, he felt better if he knew exactly what you were planning on doing when he wasn’t around. 

“I’ll probably still be sitting here when you get back. The only reason I ever get up is to use the bathroom or get a snack, and I don’t think you can bring the bathroom close to me like you can with the chips.” You joked, pausing your show to get up off the couch. “Don’t overwork yourself today, okay? We have the appointment tomorrow to find out what little bean is.” 

He knew, he knew very well what tomorrow was. It was the most important day ever, more important than any award show, more important than any tour date. He’d finally get to find out what his baby is, he’d finally get to know whether he’d have a little boy that he’d be able to teach how to surf and dance just like him and his uncles. Or maybe he’d have a daughter that, once old enough, would love to work on his and Hyunjins hair, putting little clips in it. His imagination and his daydreams were endless, but he knew that no matter what, he’d just be happy that they were here, that they were healthy. 

“I can’t wait, baby.” His hands once again found their way to your stomach as he kissed you, keeping you close to the couch even though he knew that you had gotten up to walk him to the door. He didn’t want you on your feet longer than you had to be though. “Watch your show… If you need me, just call me, even if it’s because you can’t reach something in the top cabinet. Okay? Just call me, text me, anything.” You had giggled lightly at the words, but you knew he was serious, he literally wanted you to call him for anything. He cared about you way too much, you were the mother of his child, you were carrying his child, he’d be damned if anything happened to you that he could have possibly kept from happening. 

He stood in the middle of the practice room, him and the rest of the guys drenched with sweat as they all tried to catch their breaths. They were getting ready for their comeback which had been planned around all the doctor’s appointments that you had. Management had been so understanding, having been there throughout the first pregnancy and the sudden loss of it, they were doing everything they could to make sure Felix could both be there for you and the baby, and be there with the group as well. 

“Soooo~~ Are you excited? Hmm?” Changbin asked, playfully nudging Felix with his shoulder. Everyone knew what tomorrow was, Felix hadn’t been quiet about it since he found out at the last appointment that the coming one would be the big reveal. His head nodded quickly as his smile grew wide. “I bet it’s gonna be a boy. I’m gonna teach him how to lift. We’ll start with rattles, and then word our way up to stuffed animals and- What?!” Felixs eyes narrowed although his body shook with his silent laughter. “Don’t be mad, I’m gonna be the coolest gym uncle ever.” 

“Nah! Y/N is gonna have a girl, Felix gives off girl dad energy.” Jisung stated, and Felixs head tilted to the side with confusion. “You know, heart cookies with pink and sparkly sprinkles. She can even come in and paint mine and Chans nails.” Jisung said excitedly, and while Felix had known that his members would be there for him, he never expected them to be just as excited as he was. 

“Maybe the baby can go to the gym! Put them in the stroller and run with them on the treadmill!” Jeongin said, his eyes almost disappearing with his wide smile, but all Felix could do was blink for a second, then two seconds, and then his head shook quickly. 

“Don’t try to do that. Don’t ever try to do that. Y/N will be furious, and I’ll kick your asses.” Felix said, partially joking about the ass kicking, but he knew you’d be pissed, and he knew… well, hopefully knew that the guys wouldn’t do something that crazy… Although Seungmin and Jeongin looked a little disappointed that they couldn’t do it. 

His phone started going off, the ringtone that was specifically yours sounding off had him pulling out his phone quickly to check the text. “Felix… can you come home?” The message had his breath hitching in his throat as his legs seemed to lose all feeling. His heart sank into his stomach and his hands shook as he held the phone tightly in his hands. This couldn’t be happening again… could it? No… But the way the text came in, it felt like being on tour all over again and getting the news. 

“Not again…” Felix said, almost chanting the words as he stared wide eyed at the screen, not even blinking. It was the worst feeling in the world, to think that something was wrong, to think that he was losing his little bean too. All the guys quickly quieted down, waiting for Felix to do or say anything, but he continued to stare at his phone, his tears already brimming in his eyes. 

Chan ran over, his arm draped over Felixs shoulder as he walked him out of the practice room. “Go ahead… If you need us, we’ll be right here. Okay?” It was one thing that Chan never wanted to see Felix go through ever again though, he didn’t want to see any of the guys go through that kind of pain. 

He could remember Felixs excitement as he ran through the doors to the practice room when you had told him that you were pregnant once again. The emotion radiated off of him in waves, it was contagious, he didn’t want that feeling to go away. He didn’t want Felix to be sad again… 

Now, Felix hadn’t been gone long, he couldn’t have been practicing for more than 3 hours, but when he walked through the door you were already dressed, your purse sitting by the front door and your shoes set out as if you had already left the house. Your head was bowed, your face buried in your phone, he couldn’t even see you. Were you crying again? Were you trying to hide it from him? 

“Baby…” He whispered, his voice shaking with his worry as he walked over to you. “What’s wrong… Wh-What happened?” Would he even want to hear the answer to his own question? He was so scared, and a preemptive sadness washed over him, his legs threatening to buckle beneath him as he got closer to the couch. 

“Lixie, you’re-“ You cut yourself off when you saw the expression on his face, your eyes widening as you got up off the couch and hurried over to him. “What’s wrong?” You rushed out the two words as you cupped his face. “Did something happen to one of the guys? Are you okay?” 

Your questions confused him, not only because they weren’t about you or the baby, but because before you had started asking them, you sounded so happy. “I thought… because the text… And… The last time you sent a text like that… I just thought…” The tears had already begun to stream down his face, and your hands moved to cup his cheeks, your thumbs gently brushing them away as you gave him an apologetic smile. 

“Baby no…” You murmured, pressing a kiss to his lips to try to calm his shaky breaths. “Everything is perfect… The doctor called, she said she wouldn’t be in tomorrow for our appointment, but she has a bit of freetime today and she could squeeze me in. I just thought you’d want to be there with me…” Relieved wasn’t the right word to explain how he felt right now, his hands immediately held onto your stomach and he swallowed back the lump in his throat. “I should have explained in the text… I just got a little excited and I wrote it while I was getting dressed…” 

“It’s alright angel… As long as you and little bean are okay…” His chuckle came out as a short breathy sound, his head falling forward until his forehead was against yours. “Let’s go, hopefully my heart will calm down by the time we get there.” 

The next 4 months seemed to blow by, and before he knew it, you were laying in the hospital bed, your face covered in sweat as you held his hand in a death grip. His baby was finally going to be here, and the tears that fell down his cheeks were from his excitement. 

Your head fell back against the bed with one final push, and then he was handed a pair of scissors, the doctors showing him exactly where to cut the cord. His breath was held until his baby’s cries filled the room, and he couldn’t help but cry as well. His vision blurred as he looked at you, brushing back the strands of hair that clung to your face as he choked out soft praises. 

“You did so good, baby… I’m so proud of you…” He said between soft kisses that were placed all over your face. “You look so beautiful… God, I’m so lucky…” He continued, glancing up every couple seconds to watch as the doctors cleaned and swaddled the baby in a blanket before coming back over and laying the little bundle against your chest. 

Felix pulled out his phone, snapping a quick photo of the moment, one that he’d never want to forget. “We did good…” You murmured, your fingers lightly brushing against the soft skin of your baby’s face before brushing your hand over the full head of hair. “So perfect…” 

2 weeks later, Felix stood in the practice room that had been turned into a makeshift party room, tables lined the walls and on those tables were so many plates of food and so many perfectly wrapped presents, he felt like it would take forever to get through it all. 

“I thought baby showers were supposed to be done before the baby is born.” Felix commented as he watched Hyunjin and Jeongin work to put up the streamers and bows and other little decorations that were hanging from the ceiling. “We have everything we need now.” 

Bangchan shook his head as he motioned towards the presents that somehow seemed to grow higher and higher every time someone new walked in. “Yeah but, we wanted to make sure she has everything she needs. Our niece will never go without anything. Plus, it’s good to know what size clothes she wears so you don’t have to go through the hassle of returning things.” 

It made sense, but Felix felt like maybe everyone was splurging a little too much, although it felt nice to know that his daughter was already loved so dearly by the rest of the guys and management and staff. “You all must’ve spent a lot of money… You really didn’t have to do all this though.” He looked around once more, noticing the larger box that stood next to the table, and he wondered what it was, how much it cost, who got it… His eyes began to water again. 

“Yes we did. You’re our family, Felix, and Y/N is our family, and your daughter is our family too.” Bangchan said, patting the younger man's back as he followed Felixs eyes around the room. “Did you tell Y/N that you wanted her to bring in the baby… That we all wanted to see her?” It had been the plan, and that’s why Changbin was currently on his way to your house, which Felix had informed you of as well. You had no idea what was going on, and before Felix had gone into the office today, he hadn’t had an inkling of an idea that this was going to happen either. 

“Yeah, I let her know… thank you guys… really… for all of this. It’s amazing… Y/N is going to love it.” Felix murmured, pursing his lips to try to stifle his sniffling. “I should get down to the front lobby to meet her and help her carry in the baby… I’ll be right back.” 

And love it you did, you had let out a little gasp when you walked in the room when you saw everyone there and all the decorations that lined the walls. You choked out the quietest thank you as you quickly covered your face with your hands, overwhelmed with so many emotions you couldn’t really say anything else, opting to just hug everyone that was there. 

“She’s like a little celebrity, isn’t she…” You joked, watching everyone crowd around Minho as he held your daughter, the others complaining that he had been holding her for too long and that it was their turn now. “I don’t think they’re going to put her down for the rest of the day… She’ll be spoiled…” You commented as Minho reluctantly handed your daughter off to Hyunjin who wore a victorious smile from being chosen next. 

“Maybe just a little bit spoiled… They love her though… They’ve been texting me nonstop about when they get to meet her. I think that’s why Chan and them planned the baby shower for after she was born.” He said, his eyes glued to Hyunjin who was walking around the room with the baby, and while Felix trusted the guys, his heart was still racing, worried when she was in anyone else’s arms that weren’t yours or his. 

“I’m gonna be the favorite uncle!” Became the sudden topic for bickering, Hyunjins voice soft yet still heard by the rest of the guys as he cradled your daughter against his chest, sticking his tongue out at the rest of the guys. “Nuh uh! I’m gonna be the favorite! I’m gonna buy her a bunch of toys and stuffed animals! Now let me hold her! It’s my turn!” Jisung whined, holding out his arms and making grabby hands at Hyunjin. 

“Actually, I’ll be the favorite uncle. When Y/N, the baby, Felix and I go back to Australia, I’ll take them all to see Berry. Everyone loves Berry, I’ll automatically become the favorite.” Bangchan said, satisfied enough with his own answer that he didn’t mind the fact that he still hadn’t held the baby. “Well what if she’s not a dog person, hmm? I’ve got Soonie, Doongie, and Dori. Everyone loves cats, and everyone loves my cats.” Minho said, smirking at Bangchan who simply rolled his eyes before they both looked back at Hyunjin who was doing his best to keep Jisung from grabbing the baby. 

“Yah! No fair! You can’t use pets to try to one up everyone! I’ll just… I’ll give piggy-back rides! You can’t beat that! Kids love piggy-back rides!” Changbin argued, standing on his toes behind Hyunjin to look over his shoulder, his hand gently brushing over your baby’s head. “You all are trying so hard, and I’m still going to be her favorite uncle.” Jeongin said, a little bit too cocky as he sat in the chair beside Felix. “I got this all terrain stroller, and I’m pretty sure it’ll work on treadmills too.” 

Both yours and Felixs eyebrows shot up as you turned to look at Jeongin. “Dude… I told you that you can’t do that.” Felix whispered, his eyes darting over to you every couple of seconds. “Just take her on a normal walk, man… I’m sure she’d have just as much fun.” 

Jeongin pouted at you and you gave him a stern look, shaking your head already in response to the question that he hadn’t had the chance to ask. “I just want to be the fun uncle. You both are party poopers.” He huffed, turning to look back at the neatly wrapped box that was far bigger than all the others. “Can’t believe I spent all that money on a stroller and you won’t even let me use it on the treadmill… It’s the only reason I got that one.” 

The only one who hadn’t actively bombarded your daughter with attention was Seungmin, he stayed in the back, although he did smile whenever she let out a little burp, and he’d chuckle softly whenever the guys would pass her back to your or Felix when her diaper would be filled. “Wouldn’t it be ironic if Seungmin was her favorite uncle?” You joked to Felix who had finally gotten his daughter back into the safety of his arms, holding her close to him as he cooed softly to her, his smile brighter than the sun, the moon and all the stars as he looked at her. 

“I will be.” Seungmin said, having been eavesdropping on you and Felix and dropping down in the chair that Jeongin had been sitting in previously. “Mainly because I’m not annoying. And I’m not taking part in the hot potato game with your daughter. I don’t think she enjoyed that very much.” Felix snorted quietly, his head lifting slightly to look at Seungmin who was smiling at the two of you. “I’m happy for you both… You deserve this…” His words were genuine, and Felix felt himself getting choked up at the sincere sentiment. These guys truly were his family, and he knew without a doubt that no matter what happened, they’d always be there for you and for his daughter. She had 7 amazing uncles, and even though they were all fighting to be the favorite, Felix knew that they’d all hold a special place in her heart, just like they did in his. 

“She’s all tired out from being passed around all day…” You whispered, laying your daughter in the bassinet that was set up next to your bed. “I’m tired too. Gotta make sure to thank all the guys and the staff and everyone tomorrow morning, I don’t think I got the chance to tell everyone before I left.” You turned on the baby monitor before walking out of the bedroom with Felix right behind you, heading straight to the bathroom to wash up. “It was so nice though… I can’t believe they did all that.” 

Felix watched you through the mirror as you started brushing your teeth, his chin resting on your shoulder as his arms wrapped around your waist. “Baby…” He murmured, and your eyes focused on his reflection as you hummed questioningly in response. “Thank you… For being so amazing… For giving me the most precious gift. I’m so lucky to have you… And she’s so lucky to have you as her mother. You’ve given me everything that I’ve ever wanted, and I just love you so much…” He kissed your cheek softly before holding your hair back so you could spit in the sink. “I can’t wait to spend every single day of the rest of my life with you… Making memories with you and our baby… I’m the happiest man in the entire universe… Thank you…” 

[pearlycorpse]

(ꔛ) ⸺ ⠀𝐓𝗁𝖾 𝐒𝗂𝖼𝗄 𝐌𝖺𝗇'𝗌 𝐍𝖾𝗂𝗀𝗁𝖻𝗈𝗋

pairing : toji x ghost!user

summary : lady k and the sick man au

tw : mentions of abuse and death

notes : yeh. this is a bot intro on sakura ai & poe. im on jan now yay? (＾ｖ＾)

from the moment toji was born, his life would never reach heights as great as his family name. his mother was the maid who used to clean his father's study, always scrubbing the floors at the same time as when his father was in his study. anyone could guess what they had got up to for a baby to suddenly cry out through the halls of the house nine months later.

toji's stepmother hated him, couldn't look at him without throwing something in his direction, be it her heeled shoes or shards of glass — that's how he got the scar on his lip. all because the damn woman couldn't understand how a lowly maid was able to give her husband a child and she couldn't even come to the term of her pregnancies. all ending in miscarriages, that was what chipped away at her sanity.

as a child, growing up in environment of isolation and abuse meant toji didn't exactly turn out to be the golden child. instead, he caused trouble and made the zenin clan regret allowing him to breathe seconds after his birth. he was just a child sometimes, breaking windows and tracking dirt inside was what children did, but he got scolded, beat and much worse as he got older.

at the age of eighteen, he packed his bags the night of his birthday and left without looking back. that night he spent sleeping in the alleyway of a bakery, the ovens warmth seeped through the walls and kept him warm till morning. he hoped from job to job after that, never able to keep one for more than a few weeks.

staying constant made him feel ansty, like something terrible would happen to him if he continued the same routine. it's not as if his family would come back for him and call him home, but to toji he had feared that they wouldn't. and to avoid that reality, he kept his head down and got his hands dirty doing odd jobs.

his rowdy behavior died down when he was introduced to the beauty of gambling and women, instead focusing on earnings paychecks to spend on the beautiful women in bars and show them a beautiful time in a cheap motel room. even if he didn't always pay for the rooms or drinks, his skills in the bedroom definitely made up for his lack of bedside manner.

pity the husband's of the married women he slept didn't feel the same, not at all.

fast forward a bit and to keep himself from getting pummeled by said husband's, toji found his way to an underground fighting ring. there he learned how to make sure his face never touched the concrete again. good thing working construction had given him muscles otherwise being a scranny man in the ring wouldn't have won him money.

he was found by shiu kong when he was around twenty seven and from there made a living ( when clients wanted him ) as an assassin. his first kill was a woman who had been smuggling her husband's drug imports and he had done it quick and easy. stabbing her in the gut and twisting the knife in a busy street, leaving her to cough and writhe on the ground.

sadly for toji though, more times than he would like to admit, money was always tight, and his wallet barley weighed a thing in his pocket. landlords hated when rent was late, and his current one had sent him packing before he could even argue. with the last of his money he ate a bowl of ramen to keep his stomach full and happened the come across an ad for an apartment in the worst part of tokyo.

did he have any other better options? no.

the place was decent looking if not livable, and he had signed the papers that afternoon. apart from the mold growing in the corner of the bathroom that he could barely fit in, the tv that didn't work, lack of a bedroom and creaky floorboards, toji was glad to have a roof over his head. he could get used to the problems around him, could probably fix some of them, and he could definitely wait months for the landlord to fix the rest.

what his landlord had failed to mention was that the place was haunted. yep, haunted. he figured something ( other than the obvious ) had to have been wrong with this place for it to come at such a cheap price. toji didn't believe in ghosts, never saw them as real nor cared for them enough to respect them either. so having a "ghost" in his apartment didn't bother him. at first.

he tried ignoring the noises in the attic, he was a heavy sleeper so it didn't matter much. he tried to ignore the way the living room got cold when he turned off the ceiling light to go to bed, added an extra futon for himself and slept no problem. he tried to ignore the shadows he'd see in the corner of his eyes whenever he was in the bathroom taking a piss or trying to bathe in the tiny basin.

toji never thought living with a ghost would be so hard, especially when he came home after a job to see the house had been turned upside down. he hadn't been robbed, the locks were still in tact and he had nothing to steal. no one else had a key to his place apart from the landlord but she hadn't come to the property in weeks (grumpy old bat). so the only explanation had to have been the ghost staring at him from the gasp in the boards from the attic.

he found the temper tantrum cute and coaxed them to come out, finally setting eyes on that body that somehow got his dick stirring in his pants. as strange as it sounded, and it sounded really strange, he definitely wanted to shove his dick inside whatever hole they had. pity he had scared them off a few times with his forward advances, but not tonight.

꒰ა ˚₊ ✧・┈・╴﹕꒰ ᐢ｡- ༝ -｡ᐢ ꒱﹕╴・┈・𐑺 ‧₊˚໒꒱

holding in a chuckle, toji had been laying perfectly still on his futon, light turned off, the only source of illumination being from the streetlights since he forgot to close the blinds. he heard the telltale creak of the floorboards and knew that they had decided to let their curiosity get the better of them.

a cold hand traced up his jaw, thumb parting his lips and they let out a noise of appreciation. it had been about a week since the two of them had been properly associated with each other and toji still couldn't get over how adorable this ghost was because they couldn't say full sentences for the life of them. he didn't understand why and saw it as a sour spot for them and didn't push, instead doing his best to interpret their simple words.

suddenly, toji's hand grabbed their wrist and gripped tightly, ensuring they couldn't run away like the little lamb they were. he sat up, pulling them onto his lap and stared into their dull eyes before tilting their head. lips pressing kisses down their neck and nibbling red marks on their skin, he spoke in a murmur, "tonight, doll, you're not running away."

"be good for me and let me fuck you, yeah?" he whispered, free hand already kneading the flesh of their ass under their clothes. "i've been dying to see what that hole looks like, me and my cock both..." at those words the ghost suddenly felt something hard poking them right between their legs, a bright blush filling their ghostly pale cheeks. "that's it... feel how hard i am?"

"take care of it for me, baby."

[auspicioustidings]

Ae Fond Kiss - Part 7

My Heart's in the Highlands

Summary: You speak with your kid and establish a new normal. A conversation is had with Johnny. Words: 2.6k TWs: mention of miscarriage

Parts: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7

The drive home was silent. Your mind was a mess but you tried to slow down your racing thoughts and put your parent head on. It was so hard right now to be a parent when you felt like an out of control child. You tried to run through a script in your mind, a way to explain what was going on to Joey without bringing your own bitterness into it. 

The kid in question seemed no more willing to have the conversation than you were. He was staring out the window. He seemed exhausted. You could understand that, the emotional gauntlet he had been going through with his parents not even there to help… God you felt awful. 

“...let’s get the mega-ultra sundae” you decided, indicating to turn off towards the ice-cream parlour.

“That’s for like 20 people. Luna from school said her brothers tried to eat it all and they threw up.”

“How many brothers does she have again?”

“Four. One of them does football at uni, two are on the high school team and the last one just won a boxing competition.”

“Well I guess we’re about to embarrass Luna’s brothers.”

You glanced over to him and he looked to you, both with tentative smiles. This was still your kid, you were still his mother, and you were going to eat enough ice-cream that you’d both spend the evening curled up on the sofa feeling sick and watching bad movies. You didn’t know how you ever got so lucky. You could strangle both of his dads, but you could never not appreciate the hand they had in this brilliant boy. 

While you immediately knew the mega-ultra sundae was a mistake when the server struggled to put it on the table due to the weight, you both grinned anyway. The first few spoonfuls you just took the time to think about what to say. 

“Did you really think he was dead?” Joe asked, carefully digging for marshmallows.

“We both did, me and your dad. I think… I think uncle John might have known he wasn’t and I’m very angry with him over it” you answered, aiming for complete honesty. 

“Was the stuff you said about him true?”

You thought on that while you took a mouthful of what you had thought was mostly ice cream but was almost 100% whipped cream. You had told Joe all about Johnny even if you lied about just what he was to him. You had told him how brave he was, how loving. How when he got really excited you and Simon could barely understand half the words that came out of his mouth. You’d told him about his temper, how he would explode and then after need to nap it off before profusely apologising. And God was he clever even if he seemed like a big dumb idiot sometimes. He could make an explosive out of anything and on New Years he usually did. 

“Yeah. We never lied about the kind of man he was, just… it felt scary to tell you he was your father. We should have told you. We shouldn’t have hidden it because we were scared about what you might think.”

“What would I think?”

You could still hear Johnny yelling in your head. You were afraid Joe would think what he did, that you loving Simon even when you thought he was dead was a betrayal. Although now you knew that you had been betrayed it felt like such a stupid fear.

“I didn’t want you to think of your dad differently because he wasn’t your birth father. And I… for some people me falling in love with Johnny’s best friend after he died was wrong. I just didn’t want you to think that.”

Joey thought on that for a while as he kept working on the sundae which didn’t seem like it had decreased in volume at all. You hated putting all of this on a 9 year old. He should be telling you all about the football game and explaining again how he could build a computer in Minecraft, not considering how he felt about finding out a war hero whose death was faked by the military was his father. God you hoped Kyle hadn’t known.

“I think it’s ok” he said eventually as he chewed through a chunk of meringue. 

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. It’s pretty cool that I have another dad. Does he always sound like that? Did he really take on a whole town of bad guys and win with dad?”

You shoved another spoonful in your mouth even though you were feeling a little nauseous because if you didn’t try and distract yourself with something you’d cry. He was supposed to yell at you, he was supposed to be mad and turn off his hearing aids so he couldn’t listen to your apologies. But that wasn’t the kid you and Simon had raised. Yeah he could get angry, but he was so good at cooling off and moving on and fixing the issue. 

So you told him all about Johnny but this time in present tense, you both gave the mega-ultra sundae your best shot and then you ran to the bathroom as soon as you got home to throw up which your kid did not let you live down as you watched a bunch of superhero movies. 

–

You didn’t think anyone but you three could pull it off, but somehow life went on. Simon and Johnny arranged a meeting with you and it was decided who would do what. School runs were completely off your plate, they’d share that between them and it seemed like a good way to have J be able to get to know his biological father in small, casual chunks. 

You did offer to let them stay in the guest room, but Simon could read you well enough to know that right now you really did not want to be around them and you were offering for the sake of keeping the peace, so he said no. He was staying in an airbnb nearby and Johnny to your surprise outright bought himself a flat the second week. Not really your business, but part of you felt your heart break that he had just accepted so quickly that you’d be separate for the rest of your lives. 

You never asked about what was going on with the two of them. Maybe it was cowardly, but you didn’t want to know. If they were together, then it would feel like you were always just the second choice and now they would be happy without you. If they weren’t, then it would feel like they were only holding back out of their love and respect for you which was no doubt making them miserable. Did you want them to be miserable? You didn’t know, the answer changed depending on the time of day.

You’d had a dream this morning of the two of them together, had woken up wet and needy and had let your hand wander between your legs to finish yourself off to the fantasy of it. Afterwards you promptly threw up and spent the rest of the day in bed feeling awful until J got back from football practice. Johnny had taken him and they were laughing together. He had taken one look at you and invited himself in, saying he’d order take away and get Joe to bed after dinner so you should just relax. You felt too ill and exhausted to really argue.

Joe was in bed and you were tidying away the leftovers when Johnny came back downstairs into the kitchen. It was the first time the two of you had been alone together. 

“Sorry, you used tae love cashews” he said.

“I still do. The place is usually really good as well, just really couldn’t stomach them today” you replied, frowning at the container as you put it away because it really had been sort of gross but Joey had tried some and said he’d eat the leftovers. 

“I can go grab something from the shops if ye want? Ye didnae eat an awful lot.”

You closed the fridge and raised an eyebrow at him. 

“..I’m naw Senga’ing!” he protested, knowing that raised eyebrow well.

“You’re Senga’ing a little.”

“Naw I’m not!”

“I dunno Johnny, if it worries like a Senga and fusses like a Senga…”

He threw a tea towel at you and you laughed. Senga was your old neighbour's very moody hen who treated the two of you like unruly chicks whenever you were out the back garden. It was sort of comforting to know the old Johnny from nearly a decade ago was still here, but bittersweet that he wasn’t yours anymore. 

“I…” you started, but trailed off because you didn’t know what you wanted to say.

You had spent weeks with the anger at finding out what had happened being difficult to predict. Sometimes you felt it so intensely, sometimes it faded away. It was all so long ago now. You were a different person. You all were. 

“I shouldnae have… well let’s be honest there’s a hunner things I shouldnae have done, but just going for recently I shouldnae ever have tried tae say it was wrong of ye to marry Simon. Especially naw when I knew myself that he…” he trailed off.

“That he’s easy to fall in love with” you finished for him, hearing almost a tone of commiseration in your voice. 

“Is easy the word?”

“Fair enough. I hated him at the start. Considered breaking things off with you more than once just so I didn’t have to be around him anymore.”

“I broke two of my fingers trying tae break his nose the first month on the task force.”

You gave a dramatic gasp and pointed accusingly at him. 

“And you never told me?! How did I not know this?”

“Cause it’s a pure riddy. Tried tae punch him with his mask on and he didnae feel a fucking thing. Didnae even try get me intae trouble for it either, just ordered me tae go to medical like a pure dick.”

You could imagine how mad that would have made Johnny and you could absolutely imagine how smug Simon would have been about the whole thing. One regret you had was the times you avoided going out with Johnny’s friends because you sort of wished now you had seen them together more. At the time you were young and so sure that Simon Riley was just a misogynistic tosser that you avoided him and you knew now you had probably missed out on so much. Maybe you’d have noticed how they felt about one another had you given him a chance. 

“I wanted to strangle him so much at the start. No clue how it turned into what it did. He didn’t even propose with a ring, just asked if I wanted to get married in the kitchen on a whim.”

Johnny looked horrified on your behalf.

“Absolute roaster! How in the fuck did both of us fall for such a wanker?”

The two of you took a beat to decide how you felt about this all being out in the open and then laughed together until you cried. God it was nice to just laugh about it. You’d never get over what the two of them did a decade ago, not really, but you didn’t want it to turn you bitter. You didn’t want to forget all the good things. And you wanted them both in Joseph’s life, you wanted him to get all of the love and support you knew these men were capable of. 

You wiped away a tear and sighed, leaning on the counter and looking at Johnny with a sort of sad smile. 

“I wish you had just told me how you felt about him. It’s not that you fell in love with him that hurt, it was that you didn’t trust me enough to tell me.”

Fuck, you guessed you knew how Joe felt now. Too scared to tell him the truth because you had imagined the worst of his reaction. 

“I was a shite husband. Naw even just what happened with Si, but all of it. Should never have taken that job without talking tae ye first. All well and good saying it was for your protection, but I should have trusted that ye wouldnae have told anyone, that ye’d have done your part if ye’d agreed tae it. Should never have taken that choice off of you.”

“Why the change of heart now?”

“Guess I’ve done some growing up. Over the last 9 years it’s naw been the soldiers that have been saving the world most of the time, it’s been the civilians. I used tae think I was some big hero just because I wore the uniform, but I was just being an arrogant prick. I hate that I treated ye like ye were less capable of making decisions because ye didnae have a set of fucking epaulettes. Never really deserved ye.”

“I’m sorry that you took it all on yourself. It must have been awful being alone all this time in enemy territory. Look, I’m pissed that you took the job, Price has been laying low because he knows I’m going to boot him in the balls next time I see him, but I know you did it to help people. And for what it’s worth, I’m sorry I never told you about… about that night with Simon.”

“I’m so so fucking sorry ye went through that bonnie, I cannae imagine” he said, and you knew he was sincere with the moisture gathering in his eyes. 

It was an old wound for you now, but this was new for him you realised. He hadn’t know until a few weeks ago that Joey may have had an older sibling. Remembering how painful it had been back then before time had healed you, you felt the sudden urge to hug him knowing there was a good chance this was still so raw for him. So you did.

He held you tight and buried his face in your hair like he used to. He smelled almost the same, although there was something a little less wild about him now. How long had it been since he had just been held? 9 years on mission, 9 years of the world on his shoulders. Fuck you almost wished Simon had known, then at least he would have had him to come back to without the complication of the lie between them. 

You stayed like that for a while, just clinging to one another in the kitchen. God you had missed him so damn much. You were just so angry that he had been alive all this time. So much time wasted. So many choices that could have changed things. If he had told you back then how he felt about Simon, what would you have done? If you had told him about the miscarriage, would it have changed things? But it was too late for any of that now. 

So when you broke apart and you took a breath to ask if he’d like to stay over, he beat you to it and said he’d best get going. Probably for the best.

“Why did you buy the place anyway? I thought you hated it down here, heart in the highlands and all that.”

“My heart’s in the highlands, but the highlands was never really about the place, it was about the person there in it with me. But the flat’s also close tae the uni Joe said he wants tae go to. I ken that he’s only little now so he might change his mind, but I wanted it tae be there for him just incase and it’s naw like I cannae buy another place for him if he goes somewhere else.”

You shoved him out of the door before you could go against your own best interests and kiss him.

[the-kr8tor]

Sink or Swim

Pairing: Pirate! Hobie Brown x fem! Reader

Total Word Count: 16k

Tags: Use of Y/N sparsely, no specific physical description of the reader (except for her clothing), Hobie is mentioned taller than R, CW food mentions, CW suggestive, TW blood, CW injury, CW miscarriage mention, TW violence.

A/N: I've divided this chapter into two because of how long it is and tumblr wouldn't let me draft the post without the app crashing. So sorry for the inconvenience. I'll put the link at the end and on top.

Between the Devil and the Sea Masterlist

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CHAPTER 13 >>> CHAPTER 13 II

Hobie's throat feels like he swallowed glass. Yet, he screams until his lungs give out, until his body gives out. Fist pounding into steel, skin splitting, blood staining the metal, he continues to call for you. His ears could only hear your frantic yells, his name falling out of your lips, vomited out desperately, asking for him, calling for him to get you out.

He kicks and thrashes at the metal bars, his mind imagines the worst— nails ripped from your fingers, bones breaking, skin scraped and slashed. He doesn't need to imagine how it could feel for he had lived through it all, survived through sheer will alone. But he promised, he promised to you and in that hollow grave that it will never be filled with your body; that your own blood wouldn't spill in between his fingers.

Yet, like the knife that he is, like the one who breaks skin and bleeds everything he touches— he hurt you, shot you where you stood, when he should've protected you, shielded you from the bullet. But how could he do it when the bullet is from him? When he used the same weapon that has ended dozens of lives to protect his crew, to harm you; the only person he deems worthy of telling all his secrets, you, who is worth more than every single treasure in the world.

Maybe he should've listened to you and stayed on the island.

Hobie calls for you once again, in hopes that you hear him too, in hopes that his voice is enough to bring you hope. The lighthouse that guides you home. But he knows, he knows all you could hear are muffled sounds and the creaking from the rocking ship.

Your voice wavers, like you've been forcefully silenced. So he does the screaming for you. It's loud, tone furious, ready to scratch at anyone who gets closer.

“Hobie—” Gwen tries to get his attention as the door opens, revealing the two guards staying in the doorway, keeping their distance.

Guns are strapped to them, knives glinting in the lamp light, armed to the teeth. Hobie knows it's all for him.

“Shut the fuck up.” One frustratingly said, teeth clenched, hands kneading at his temples.

“Keep screaming and you won't get supper.” The bigger one utters, the large scar on his cheek tightens as Hobie taunts them with a grim smile. The smile he reserves to strike fear.

They stiffen in the doorway, shoulders straight, hands reaching for their weapons.

“Do it then.” Hobie says, voice guttural, hands gripping the bars. “End the screaming.” His sheer tone alone sends everyone's hair to stand upright.

No one in the crew dares to stop Hobie. He doesn't know if they're afraid just like the men in front of him or if they're biding their time to scratch and bite too.

“Come closer and end it.” He doesn't yell, and that terrifies the men in the doorway. “And you'll find out exactly what I did to Admiral Kinney all those years ago.” He can still taste the admiral's ichor on his tongue.

The hulking men share a look, sweat dripping off their brows. And with that, they shut the door behind them, returning to their post with their tails tucked between their legs.

“Cowards.”

If it wasn't a grim situation, James would've laughed.

Hobie hears Gwen sigh behind him, the liquid in her hand sloshes as she practically shoves it in his face.

“At least drink some water. For your throat.”

“No, ‘m not drinking that slop.”

Gwen has had enough, she takes him by the collar, eyes bravely glaring at her captain. “If you want to leave this ship and save her, then drink the slop, eat the fucking bread and keep your goddamn energy for when we get the window to escape. Screaming won't help, captain. It's not helping anyone.” Her jaw is set, eyebrows knitted together.

The rest of the crew stand on the side, ready to get between them if it gets physical. He'll never hurt Gwen, never even thought of it. But he can't stand the thought of his family standing against him rather than next to him. So he fixes it, you'd like it that way.

Hobie gingerly takes the cup, chugging it down in one gulp.

“Good, now eat some bread and sit down.”

“Y/N—” he starts.

“She'll be alright, she's a fighter ain't she?” He nods, “you know her better than us, so tell us, cap'n, that she will survive this.”

He roams his red eyes at his sparse crew. For a brief second he sees the ones he lost behind them. For the first time, he's glad he doesn't see you with them.

Returning his attention towards Gwen, he utters the words with the confidence of a captain.

“She'll survive this.”

—

Sitting down in the corner, he rests his poor throat, the dry bread didn't help much. It was shitty to say the least, times like this, he misses Finn. He'd beat him if he ever knew that he let the famous bloodsail pirates into the hands of a former admiral and you into the hands of someone you fear the most.

Hobie shuts his eyes for a second, he swears it's only for a second but when he wakes up with a start and the door opening with a creak, the moon is already shining outside the large boat.

When he sees you appear by the doorway, he thinks he's still dreaming.

“Ten,” He hears you say between gritted teeth. All he could focus on is you, checking for signs of an injury, he starts from your head—nothing, arms, also nothing, save for a few scratches. Then he settles on your bandaged leg, and he remembers what he did, what he did to you. Guilt and grief overtakes his body, he tries his best to hide into the background, into the wooden walls, to become part of the ship, to hide his shame. Because he hurt you, and he'll never forgive himself for what he did.

Hobie watches from his corner, defeated when you tell him subtly that you're alright. And when you called for him, called his name softly like summer wind breezing by, warm and reminding him of home— he couldn't help but oblige.

Who is he to deny the sky?

When you held him in your hands, he felt anew. Apologies spill from his mouth, eyes forlorn at the red spot on your bandages.

What is the tides without his moon?

He feels lighter when you forgive him. But his past action still haunts him, he knows it'll join the long line of nightmares that plague him at night.

“That's my girl.” He says truthfully and proudly, he feels your heartbeat hasten through your pulse.

You tell him your choice, your decision to give up your freedom for him and the crew. He feels like he was back on the revenge, facing Mathias, refusing to let you go as you offer yourself for their freedom.

His heart beats harder as you ask him to read your mother's letter. He's unsure why you would let someone like him read something as heavy as the letter. It's reserved for someone whose hands wouldn't stain the paper with crimson.

“Because I trust you.” You say, and everything aligns in his mind. Like Poseidon shaking him inside out, like the tides itself is splitting him open.

Hobie reads it with trembling hands and broken skin. Like he thought, it turns the paper pink like ink blots dirtying the pristine paper.

He dictates it, heart shattering at every tear you let out. Wiping your cheeks dry, he's careful not to let his split skin touch your softer ones.

“It's real, innit?” He asks like the earth isn't eating him whole.

“It's real.” You answer and the world caves in around him.

Hobie teases to feel the resemblance of normalcy, “little tomato?” He asks.

And you answer with a “I don't want them, just you.” Like you didn't just mend his shattering heart with one sentence. And you break it right after with a “We'll meet again, in this life or the next.”

He's terrified once again. He shakes his head as the door creaks open. “No, Y/N—”

As you kiss his wounded knuckles gently, you ask him something he can't possibly do.

“Don't follow me, please.”

Reaching for you, he should've read the last line in the letter to you. ‘Don't trust anyone’ it said, whatever it was, it's not your burden to carry, so he'll do it for you.

Hobie apologizes in his head for keeping it away from you and for what he's about to do.

—

With the dinner bell ringing, and heavy footsteps retreating, the crew takes their chance. The key opens the door smoothly. They sneak around the ship, only leaving shadows and footfalls that's barely audible.

Climbing up the steps towards freedom, Hobie spots a door at the end of a hallway. Like two hearts beating as one, he knows it's you behind it.

Miles takes his arm before he could come to you. “Don't.” He whispers to his captain. “Don't waste her sacrifice.”

“She didn't sacrifice herself.” Hobie shakes his head, scoffing quietly. “I can't leave her behind, Miles. I can't.”

“I know,” he pulls him away from the hallway. “she asked you to not follow, so don't follow.”

“If this was Gwen—”

“If this was Gwen we'd be doing the exact same thing. She wouldn't ask us to follow and we'll leave because she asked us to.” Miles spares a heavy glance towards your locked door. “I know it hurts, but we'd be in the gallows by morning if we don't leave now. We'll have another chance at saving her.”

“You don't know that.”

“I don't, but it's better to not know instead of being dead. At least we'd have a chance.” Miles tugs him further away. “Do you think it's better for her to think that she caused our deaths just because you took the chance?” His voice is determined.

“Don't hurt her like that, Hobie. It'll ruin her.”

With one last look towards your door, Hobie nods, following the others to the deck then to safety. As the dinghy drops down into the sea, and into the dark night, he hears Miguel curse his name.

He asks for your forgiveness silently.

—

Hobie and the crew finally make it to the docks without being seen by anyone. It was pure luck that no one saw or even heard them, he thanked the early morning and the still dark sky for lending them a hand.

“We need to wait for her.” He says, stretching his stiff hands from rowing the boat.

The sparse pirate crew hides in the shadows, hidden behind the dark alleyway. They lean on the grimy walls, hands cradling their fatigued heads, huffing and groaning at the aches and pains they had from their daring escape. They can still hear Miguel cursing Hobie's name, his voice ringing in their ears.

“Hobie,” Gwen calls for him. “Leave her be.”

“What the fuck?” Hobie turns sharply. “What the fuck does that mean?”

“It means we leave her alone.” Pavitr says forlornly, eyes downcast at the dirty pavement.

“We promised her—”

“That was when we didn't know it was her actual family. Back when we all thought Miguel was a threat to her.” Yuri pipes up, hands braced on her knees. Fatigued and clearly needing rest. “I love her, Hobie, I really do. We all love her, but she's with family now. Let her be.”

“What are you guys talking about?” Miles scoffs, “We're talking about the same person right?” He stands next to Hobie, arms crossed on his chest.

“C’mon, Miles,” Gwen says tiredly. “We all heard their conversation, it's real, she's noble—”

“And what of it?” Hobie snaps back. “You were too.”

“I was.” She scowls. “But she has a home to go to, a family that's waiting for her. We need to let her be until for whatever reason she decides to stay or leave with us.” Inhaling sharply, she rubs harshly at her eyes. “Let's make a compromise then. We're all clearly feeling conflicted. I don't want to fully let her go, we all agree right?”

Everyone nods, tension running high, glares thrown about the small group. Gwen continues, “Then we stay close to her, we watch her like when we used to observe potential crew members. But this time we make sure she is actually safe and not thrown to the wolves.” Her idea reminds Hobie why he chose her as his first mate.

“I'll keep first watch,” Hobie quickly says, "we switch after I say so.”

“And when will that be, Hobie?” Yuri clasps her hand on Hobie's shoulder, comforting the man. “You haven't slept a wink, add the fact that you were stranded on a bloody island for a month, you're not in the right state for this.”

“I'll be once I see that she's safe.” His voice cracks, “I didn't keep an eye on MJ and look what happened. I-I don't want that to happen again. Please let me do it. You can follow me all you want just let me keep watch—”

“It's Y/N,” James whisper yells, he peeks around the alley, watching you slowly walk down the ship.

They all clammer to see you ignore Miguel's helping hand. Pride swells in their chest, they remember now why they can't exactly leave you behind— you're family.

As if fate is pulling the strings, you crane your neck to look in their direction. The crew ducks away, but Hobie stays, staring at you, waiting for your signal, anything to indicate that you want to run away with them.

He sees your subtle shake of your head, and with that, he hides with his crew.

“Did she say something?” Pav asks, concerned for you.

“No, nothin’” He holds his heart in his hand. “She said nothin'”

—

Hobie follows you quietly throughout the day. Hiding from Miguel's watchful eyes and your sad eyes. The crew left to rest in an inn, Miles offered to come with him, Hobie's glad he did for he found an unhitched horse in a street corner. But it could only seat one so Miles, the angel that he is, let Hobie go on without him.

“I'll take care of them.” He promises before he lets his captain go.

They all know your house, they've raided their ships before. Crates upon crates full of luxury, with the same design on your necklace stamped on the wooden sides. Hobie knows them quite well, the favourite of the king, always giving them special treatment. Yet the queen holds them at an arm's length away, but she never left her eyes away from their business. He guessed sacking random ships has its perks, gossip is one of them.

Hobie silently trots his horse, eyes never leaving the carriage you just left. The cemetery sends his nerves alight, with the crows cawing in the background, he strains his ear to listen in. He's hiding behind the chapel, the irony doesn't escape him.

The truth is revealed to you, and unbeknownst to you, he has learned about it too. His head is in his hands as he listens to how broken your voice is, tone splitting at the seams. Then his heart stops when you tell your mother that you want to stay, that you want to find the person responsible for their deaths, that the same flames burning inside him now have spread to you.

Hobie doesn't want you to go down the same path he walked on, to let the embers singe your skin, to let the fire burn you from the inside out like it had with him. You helped him through his, helped him control it. Now it's his turn to do so for you.

He cares for you, loves you for all your soft touches and gentle tone. But he's prepared to love you through your jagged edges, through all the anger that's inside you. He'd love both sides of you, because it's you, and no one else.

His foot accidentally steps on a twig as he sees you leave. Hobie almost ran towards you when you looked at the source of the sound. This time he ducks away, knowing that there's eyes on you, eyes that are prepared to take you away the moment they see him. So he waits, until there's no more eyes on you.

The next time he saw you again was when you stepped out of the carriage and into the golden doors of the palace. He's terrified for what's to come, whether or not Miguel has brought you on a silver platter for the wolves to devour.

With his guns accompanying him, he readies outside the walls of the palace until you leave, until he sees you again climbing inside the carriage.

He can finally breathe again, he doesn't have to kill this time. Not yet anyway.

Hobie tries his best to stay hidden, he bribes and lies to get inside Hazelside. Then he waits, and bides his time just to talk to you.

—

“Hazelside estate,” Miguel says when the large manor looms over the horizon. “Your family has owned it for two hundred years. Passed down to every first born child of the family.”

Acres and acres of land stretch across the vast space. Primed apple trees and oaks line the road, men and women in work clothes walk near the carriage, not even craning their necks to take a peek inside. It seems this was a daily occurrence for them.

“Two hundred years.” You repeat, contemplating how many generations owned it. “So it's mine once the papers are signed? Where would my…uncle and aunt go then?” Your mind goes through a hundred scenarios where you stay and where you decide to leave it all again.

“They have their own house. Granted it's not as big as Hazelside but it's enough for them. Knowing his majesty, he'd take his sweet time from releasing the papers.”

“How well do you know the king and queen?” You ask, eyes scanning your family's land.

Stone houses are standing miles away from the main estate, employees of the house you think. Chimneys billow out smoke whilst the sun is just about to rise. You imagine them having breakfast with their families, sleep still clinging in their lashes, hot tea wrapped in their cool hands. Opening the window, the smell of fresh apples wafts over you. Home, you think. It smells like home. Or it just reminds you of the apple tarts Jessica made for you when you were younger.

“You alright?” Miguel asks, watching you frown.

“I'm fine, just tired.” You lied, in truth, you miss them all.

“You had a hectic day, I don't blame you. You'll get to rest soon, I promise.”

How could you even think of sleeping alone? After being near him? After saying goodbye?

“You didn't answer my question.” You shift your attention from the trees to the man before you. “How well do you know them?”

“I barely know the queen, but the king? Yes, short answer? He's a moron, a buffoon wearing a crown.”

Lyla snickers next to you, head plopped on the carriage wall, seemingly asleep.

You smile, “You have a monkey for a king.”

“Once you're the Hazelside duchess, he'll be your king too.”

“Christ.” You chuckle nervously.

“Don't worry, I'll help you get accustomed to polite society.” Miguel reassures you and you still have no idea if you'll stay long enough to bear the title.

“Polite society.” You say with a scoff, “What I just saw wasn't very polite.”

“Just remember, everything here is political. Everyone here is climbing the ladder, kissing the royal asses. Some are doing it for their families, some are doing it for their personal gain.”

“Which one do you think I am?”

“Neither.” The carriage stops, horses neighing, hooves stomping on the gravel. “You're not like them, Y/N, that's why you'll end up walking all over them.”

The footman opens the door, Miguel gives you a look before coming down the small steps. He reaches towards you, helping you down. You hesitate. You still don't take his hand even with your bad leg.

The wind blows cold, goosebumps appearing on your skin, face worried at the sheer size of the manor. The glinting silvered birds catch the early morning's sun's rays. Beady eyes seemingly blinking when a cloud passes by.

Vines cling to the ancient walls, small purple flowers run along the plant and along the large windows. Strong columns line the façade, laurels carved on the marble, oak doors displaying the house sigil— your necklace bearing a similarity to it. Flower beds cradling violets lay by the foot of the building, blooming and fragrant. The smell hiding your trepidation from the dozen or so people watching you with unreadable eyes.

The staff greets you with a stiff nod, they stand on the stairs leading towards the manor. Their uniforms are perfect, perfectly ironed and clean; perfect white gloves on their hands.

A couple of them help your drunk uncle off their own carriage. He groans, head swirling, eyes rolling to the back of his head. Fancy clothes sweaty and moist, neckerchief lopsided and dirtied by ale. In contrast to his wife, who looks tired with the heavy eye bags under her eyes, she still looks like a proper noble compared to Frederick.

“Freddy—” She groans, kicking her husband's leg, “get up!”

“Darling…” he slurs, “there's two of you—oh wait…now there's three!” His guffaw fills the quiet morning.

Victoria gives up, leaving the man to the care of her staff. She walks off, huffing and puffing. She gives you a glance, “what are you waiting for? Get inside.”

Her eyes flick to Miguel who stands behind you, she immediately clamps down her bitterness. “Welcome to Hazelside, niece.” With a stomp of her heeled foot, she heads inside, no doubt seething.

“Catty.” Lyla says next to you, elbowing your side. “C’mon, your grace, before the sun gets in their eyes and sends them into a murderous frenzy.”

You chuckle, shaking your head. Something flickers in your peripheral vision, when you move your head to look, whatever it was, it's already gone behind the thick bushes.

“Y/N?” Miguel beckons you over. “It's cold out, come inside before you get sick.”

“Coming,” you call back, eyes darting around the thicket.

—

Miguel shows you around to your room in the west wing. Various historical paintings decorate the walls, wooden simple frames around them, showing the true beauty of the art without all the extravagant gold laurels around it.

Sculpted busts of your ancestors wait at every corner, marble eyes staring blankly at what's in front of them. Large windows line the walls, just outside the glass lies an expansive field of apple trees, bulbs of reds and greens adorning the branches of the mighty orchard. You stand in awe at the sight, workers start flocking the trees, picking and plucking at the ripest of fruits. The sun shines directly at the field, apples aglow with its light like red and green stars.

You lag behind Miguel as you gawp at the scenery, hand tucked inside the pocket of your gown, mindlessly rolling the pearl. Wishing the crew could see it too, wishing that he could see it and harvest the fruits with you.

Miguel calls for you, hand reaching but he retracts it back to his side. “Apples are new around here.” You genuinely smile at him, so he continues. “It used to just be hazelnuts, which still grow plenty in the estate.”

“Why the change then?”

“They didn't change, your family merely adapted. Your grandmother was the one who started planting the apple trees. Whenever she had a—” Miguel falters, you can practically see his brain turning.

“Had a what? I'm a big girl, Miguel, I can handle whatever it is.” You encourage him with a nod.

“A miscarriage,” he says lowly, “At the end of her life she planted seven trees. There was only one seed she didn't plant and that was when your mother was born.”

Your heart aches at the story even though the people in it are practically strangers to you. “Apple of her eye.” You murmur.

Miguel chuckles, turning to watch the vast orchard that spans acres upon acres of land. “It’s an understatement. She was spoiled, your mother. But she had a heart, most of her gifts almost always ‘gets lost’ somewhere.” He smiles fondly. “Strangely enough, it always ends up with someone who would benefit from it more.”

“Which one ended up getting lost in your backyard?” You smile at his rare grin.

“A lot, pocket watches, jeweled eggs, there was a kitten once. Only because her mother didn't like it.” He sighs, hazel eyes shining under the sunlight.

“You loved her.”

“I did,” he stares at you with kinder eyes. “She was my best friend, and so was your father. They both were.”

“What did you mean back at the carriage when you told me that they did the same to you?”

He swallows thickly, staring back at the outside of the opulent manor. “My daughter, Gabriella.” he says after a moment, “She was only a few years older than you. Your parents were her godparents, this was before they eloped and had you.” You can feel the strain in his voice. “She got sick…they poured everything into giving her the best doctors the country has to offer. They were at her side while I was drowning my sorrows in the navy. When they weren't by her side, they were with me. But in the end everything was all in vain.”

“I'm sorry,” you say genuinely, “I'm sorry, Miguel.”

He gives you a tight smile and a pat on your shoulder. “Even after all that they were still by my side, even when I pushed them away.” Sniffing, he subtly wipes his eye. “I didn't cross the sea and traveled thousands of miles to find you because I want us to be even. Or to pay the debt, I just wanted to find the last thing they left in hopes that I also find them in you.” His chest heaves. “I couldn't even say goodbye to them.”

There's tears in your eyes as he chokes on his own words. “I lost my friends but you lost your family before you could even meet them. And for that, I'm sorry, Y/N.” His hand shakes. “They didn't deserve what happened to them.”

“Tell me what happened to them.” You stand toe to toe with him, determined to get answers.

“Pirates, I told you they were pirates.”

You shake your head. “Do you really believe that, O’Hara? Or are you still trying to convince yourself otherwise?”

His jaw clenches, “It was pirates, Y/N.”

“Tell that to the former navy medic I call mother.”

He whispers, “the last time I looked further into their deaths I lost my Job, stripped of all my titles. I almost lost my house because of it.”

“Then tell me what you found.” You challenge him back. “Tell me who ordered it so I can live in this house in peace.”

“I don't have definitive proof—”

“Who?”

“Edward.” He says through gritted teeth. “He wanted to marry your mother, even going as far to ask for her hand. But when she refused him for your father—” he heaves. “I think he has probable cause to order the attack.”

“You were answering the man who might've killed my parents and wanted me dead?”

“How do you think that makes me feel, hm? I had my full trust in the navy, trusting the report they gave, trusted them with my whole life, even dedicating my life to them. And the moment I get a whiff of a planned murder on the only family I've ever had they bar me from the only life I've ever known. How do you think that made me feel?”

“I'm sorry you went through that but you could've done something.”

“He is king!” Miguel's voice booms around the hallway. He shifts his voice, pinching his knitted brows. “His word is law, I couldn't have done anything, even if I had proof.”

“You should've started with that instead of telling me lies, then I would've come to you without a fight.”

“There would've still been a fight.” He states matter of factly. “Hobie was ready to fight the moment I stepped below deck.”

“Could you blame him though? We both know not every single pirate crew is as nice as them, he didn't attack because you claimed it was pirates. Or that he was offended, he knows that he has done unsavoury things too. So what did you say that made him lunge at you?”

Miguel shakes his head, refusing to say anything. “It's best that you don't remember it.”

“Fine, be like that, just know that there will always be a wall between us.” Your heels clack loudly against the oak floors as you leave him behind.

—

The room they gave you was surprisingly comfortable, unlike the apartments in the palace that you explored. It's ten times bigger than the inn you were in, complete with your own bathroom and sitting room. It's all wooden walls covered in beautiful tapestries of various scenes from history— the thick cloth helps keep the heat inside. All the windows are wide open to let the cool air in and the moonlight. So you could hear the rustling of the trees outside, so you could smell the crisp apples. It helps, you think as you sit in front of the large stone fireplace with birds engraved in every corner of the stone.

You're already sick of the bloody birds.

You wrap the fur blanket closer to your body, still in your gown, refusing to wear anything else they've provided for you. You've heard of poisoned dresses before, it's far-fetched but you can't risk it now that you're in a more unfamiliar territory where your own family holds a grudge against you just for existing.

Especially now that you're alone in a large room filled with strange things. And with only his dagger to keep you safe.

Anyone would kill to be in your shoes right now, to be pampered and placed in a household that can provide for all your needs. If it weren't for the hunger in you, you would've left all of the gold in this house just to get back to them. Instead, the fire has you in its hold too.

Miguel's information only fueled the glowing embers in you, you're determined to find who killed them. But you're still restrained in this large manor, and until you can get your answers, you say their names to satiate the hunger.

“Edward and Mathias.” You say through shuddered breath, feeling if you could just say it louder, the sky would strike them down where they stood.

The pearl in your hands is warm, the shiny surface reflecting your scowl.

The flames mesmerize you as it dances in the kindling. Orange and reds illuminate your face, it's the only light in the whole room. You exhale and a puff of clouds escape your cool lips.

It's getting colder, and you're missing him.

Just when you're about to stand up to close the windows, a pebble lands near you. It thuds on the wooden floors, the sound gets your attention.

“What the hell?” You say confused. Standing back up, another flies through the open windows and into your room. “Who the fuck?” Speed walking towards the window, you almost get hit by a pebble if you didn't dodge it in time. “Hey!”

Fifteen feet below your window, you see two people dressed in their night clothes, bundled up in fur coats. They look up at you with wide eyes, like they got caught with their hands inside the cookie jar.

“Cousin!” One exclaims, a wide apologetic smile on his lips, showing you his perfect teeth. “Sorry about that! Can you come down?”

“Who in the world are you?” You ask, confused, you lean down to take a better look, hands gripping the sill for support.

“We're your cousins! I guess?” The girl next to him says, eyes shining in the moonlight, hand holding another pebble. “We waited to see you during supper and around the house but you were apparently hiding!”

“Alright, why do I need to come down then?”

“Because we want to properly introduce ourselves! Without screaming at you from below that is.” The girl shrugs, smiling prettily at you. “Please, cousin?”

“...fine.” you grumble, the dagger is still hidden underneath your skirt in case they're planning something nefarious.

They beam up at you, the girl daintily claps her hands. “Brilliant! We'll be waiting at the entrance.”

As you trudge down the unfamiliar sprawling halls, trying your hardest to not get lost in the maze-like structure. You accidentally encounter another painting of your mother.

Her name is etched on a golden plaque just below the portrait. This one was different from the one in the palace, she was stiff there, lips tightly closed into a line, eyes cold and empty. The one in front of you is warm, a soft smile on her lips, eyes shining and alive. Her dress is in lilac, golden stars adorning the bodice. She still wore the same necklace you're currently wearing, it rests perfectly on her neck. In her hand is a closed locket, you wonder whose portrait lies inside.

“Hi, mum.” You whisper into the cold hallway. “Where's dad's portrait?” You ask like she would open her mouth and answer back. With a sigh, you head downstairs.

Walking the ancient floors, the moon shines down at you, the light peeking in from the gaps of the heavy curtains. Silently, you meet with your cousins in the foyer. Carefully coming down the curved staircase, hand gripping the bannister, the boy who is about the same age as Miles meets you halfway. He reaches towards you, giving you a hand.

“I heard about your leg, I thought you'd appreciate some help.”

“You're Frederick's children?” You say, questioning whether or not you should take his hand.

“We are,” he says with a sigh. “Come on, cousin, or you might miss it.”

“Miss what?”

“The birds.” The girl waiting in the foyer excitedly says. “They're migrating.”

“Oh, I don't see why that would be so interesting.” You say as the boy flexes his fingers, beckoning you down.

“You’ll see why. Take my hand please, you look like our grandmother going down the steps.”

“Fine,” with an exhale, you take his hand. You hold his hand, a feather light touch that he barely feels, giving yourself enough time to react if he decides to do something.

“I'm Jonathan, or just John.” He says as he gently leads you down the steps. His stride is slow, waiting for your own feet to keep up. “And this is my sister—”

“Collette!” She suddenly clasps your hands when you reach the last step. “Sorry–” her tone is sweet and genuine, quickly removing her hands from yours. “I got too excited! I'm Collette, my brother and I are twins.”

“Unfortunately…” John says under his breath.

Collette jabs her elbow by his side, earning a groan from him. You see the similarities on their faces now that you're closer to them. From the slope of their noses to the curls of their hair, they look very much alike. Except for their eyes, Collette has emerald eyes that shimmer from the oil lamp she carries. While her brother has brilliant blue eyes that remind you of the sea when the sun shines above it.

You get reminded of him again.

“Who's older?” You ask teasingly, pushing the previous thought away.

“I am!” They both speak at the same time. John looks at her sister with disappointment, while Collette scrunches her nose.

“I'm five minutes older than you, Jojo.” She says with a tone you could only describe as annoyed.

“Father told me I'm the one who's five minutes older. Not you!”

“Sure,” she nods sarcastically, the lamp in her hand sways. “Because father was in the room when we were born.” Her head swivels to look at you, and you almost jump at how fast she moved. “He wasn't in the room.”

“Ah, I think I got it—”

“Like you could bloody remember.” John says with a scoff.

Before the argument could go on, you stop them with your hands on each of their shoulders.

“I need to sleep, so whatever you want to show me, just fucking show me.”

Collette stares at you with a gasp, eyes wide like you just said the darndest thing. Meanwhile, John has the biggest grin you've ever seen.

“Wow, cousin.” He says, amused. “I heard you used to run with pirates but I didn't know you got their vocabulary too. Hazelside would be more interesting now that you're here.”

“Gosh,” Collette exhales, clutching her pearls (literally) “I didn't know that word could be uttered by a woman.”

“You should try it sometimes. It's very freeing.” You chuckle at their reaction whilst you make your way outside. “Before we freeze to death, cousins?”

“The oldest should lead the way.” John takes the opportunity to rag on his still bewildered sister.

She groans audibly. “You're not the one with the lamp.”

You smile, there's a warm familiar feeling in your chest.

—

Leaves crunch under your bare foot, you've got blisters from the uncomfortable heels Miguel gave you. You'd take walking on bare feet rather than wear that torture device ever again. The only plus side of the fancy shoe is that it makes you feel powerful with every click of the heels. Walking along a path, tall apple trees carve a way for you and the twins.

“I like your dress.” Collette says right next to you, you sense her wariness by how she keeps her distance. “The color is beautiful, it's our house color.”

“Thank you, but I've been told that red suits me better.”

“Oh, I think they're right actually.” She smiles, her eyes crinkling at the corners.

“Yeah, I'm slowly getting used to this one though.” You lift up your skirt a bit for emphasis.

“Is it true that you were shot?” John asks in front of you, looking over his shoulder. “We heard from the footmen that you were shot by a pirate when O’Hara rescued you.”

“I was, but that's not the whole story. Miguel didn't rescue me.”

“Really?” Collette's brows are raised in question and surprise. You nod at her question. “Huh, I told you we shouldn't listen to gossip.” She slaps her brother on his bicep, he winces, glaring at her. “It's bad to begin with.”

“That's the thing about gossip, Co, it's not always the truth.” He spits out.

“I knew that, pssh.” She crosses her arms on her chest, annoyed and embarrassed.

“Why are we out here again? If you're planning to ambush me—” Colette gasps loudly, like you've shot her.

“Ambush you? Do we look like we know how to fight?” She stops you from going further down the path just as you see a dark river at the end of it.

John knits his brows with a pout. “We're here to give you a warm welcome, cousin. We heard mother and father didn't even give you a tour, so I guess it falls on us to show you around.”

“At night though?” You gesture around the silence of the grounds, save for a few crickets chirping and the flowing of the lake, you're practically alone in the dark.

“Guess we're just living to our house motto, ‘carpe noctem—’”

“‘Seize the night’” Collette finishes her brother's sentence. “The ancestor who established our house was a gambler.” She shrugs.

“That's our house motto?”

“Nope!” Collette answers you. “It was our house motto.” She gestures to herself and her brother. “Before the crown granted us Hazelside, after—” John elbows her. “I'm sorry.”

“It's alright, what's the actual motto?”

“‘alis volat propriis—’”

“‘She flies with her own wings.’” You translate, the siblings look at you with awe. “There's latin in medicine.”

“You know medicine?!” Collette shrieks, the sound echoing through the dark.

“Brilliant.” John murmurs.

“Oh you must tell us more!” Collette loops her arm around yours, walking side by side. “How and where did you learn it?”

“I—”

“Don't pester her, Co.” John clicks his tongue, “have you cut anyone's arm off?”

“How grim!” She exclaims.

As they lead you towards the sparkling lake, you three chat through the night by the banks of the hazelside lake. They ask about the world outside the capital, they ask about the sea and the pirates you were with. You don't tell them about all the blood and violence, deciding that you shouldn't mar their innocent hearts with stories of death. It's not yours to tell, and you don't want to traumatize the only people who don't look at you with contempt.

“So you're not mad at me or even at least a bit annoyed for showing up and taking the estate from your parents?” You ask whilst the sun slowly rises, bathing the lake in bright blue. The hazelnuts in your mouth is a welcome one since you haven't eaten a single bite since you got to the capital.

“Not really.” John munches on his own pile of hazelnuts. He lounges near the water, hand cradling his head, chewing quietly. “We were surprised at first because there have been a handful of girls who claimed to be you. Who were obviously not you.” You raise an eyebrow at his statement. “But when they told us it was Miguel who found you, we were sure it was really you.”

“Wait— there were people who claimed to be me?”

“Mm-hmm.” Collette hums, sitting close to you, hanging on to every word you utter. “They weren't very convincing.”

“The story of Miguel trying to find you was pretty famous around here. I mean, the guy abandoned his post to find a missing duchess who may or may not be alive. That was a big story back then, so a lot of women threw their daughters and young relatives at the manor's gates to get a chance.” John informs you.

“We were quite young back then, but the fakes dwindled away through the years.” Collette finishes his statement.

“‘Quite young’ she says,” he scoffs, “we were barely out of the womb, Collette.” His sister sticks out her tongue at John.

“Huh, that's probably why I haven't heard of it either, I was still young.” You wonder.

“The sun's almost out!” Collette points at the clear sky. “Get ready, cousin, because you're about to see the most gorgeous thing.”

“The birds here migrate at this time of year,” John helps you both up to your feet. You surprisingly take his hand. “like clockwork. Collette and I used to watch it with our parents before they got all…well, too much. Now it's some sort of tradition for us.”

“Look look! The trees are rustling!” She points, jumping up and down.

“Any minute now.” John smiles at his sister as she half hugs him.

The three of you wait for a sign of the birds, a minute passes, then two, then five. Yet, not even a feather flies overhead. The early morning sun shines brighter with every minute that passes. And with every minute, the twins grew agitated.

“Why aren't they coming out?” Collette asks sadly.

“I'm sure they're just getting ready for the journey.” John reassures his sister with a pat on her shoulder. “My calculations are correct, why aren't they here yet?” He questions no one.

Their slumped shoulders and frowns get to you. An idea pops in your head, and you think it's all Hobie's fault.

“Maybe they're still sleeping.” They look at you simultaneously, “I mean it's really cold out, they probably wanted to stay in bed— or nest to sleep more. I know I would want to.”

“Oh,” Collette gives you a small smile at your attempt to make them feel better. “That's probably it. Thank you, cousin.”

You grin mischievously at them, “what if we wake them all up?”

John makes a face. “How?”

You inhale, putting your hands around your mouth, you scream, “wake the fuck up!” The sound echoed throughout the field and across the lake.

Your cousins let out a loud guffaw, you giggle at their reaction. John joins in, copying your actions.

“Wake up you wankers!” He yells, exhilaration filling his chest. “I've always wanted to say that.” Chuckling, he laughs louder at the face his sister is making.

“Johnathan!” His sister gasps next to him.

“What? Try it out! Come on then! No one's out here to tell us off.” John shakes her shoulder, giving you a wide grin.

“Join us in the dark side, Collette.” You sing song, “the birds need a wake up call.”

“You won't tell mother and father?” She asks the both of you. Wiggling, she’s excited.

Crossing your heart, you promise. “I won't, I'm not a tattletale.”

“Cross my heart and hope to die, Co.”

“Alright.” She exhales deeply before letting loud the loudest scream you've ever heard. “Wake up, cocksuckers!” It's so loud that you swear your eardrums are blown out. Smiling, she turns towards your surprised forms.

Now it's you and John's turn to gasp.

“Cocksucker?!” You exclaim, bewildered.

“Where'd you learn that, Co?!” John pokes his sister.

“I heard it when Mrs. Williams stubbed her toe during lessons.” She said shyly.

“Good on you, sis.” He pats her back. “Good on you.”

Collette looks at you expectantly. “Good show, Co.” You wink at her and she giggles happily.

Facing towards the thick trees across the lake, the birds still don't fly overhead. There's nothing but the wind rustling the branches.

“They didn't wake up though.” She says forlornly.

“What if we do it at the same time?” Your words have them smiling again.

“Yes!” They say simultaneously.

“Ready?” They both nod, taking in air before screaming their hearts out.

“Cocksuckers!” The three of you let out simultaneously. The canopy rustles and out comes a hundred or so birds from the thicket.

You all jump up and down, arms up in greeting the birds. Their feathers shine in the sun, light filtering through their wings. Iridescent blues and whites glowing, reflecting in your eyes. Wings flapping loudly, beaks held up high as they greet the sky with open wings.

Amidst the beauty of it all, you wish that he was there to witness it.

A tear slides down your cheek. You wipe it quickly before the twins notice. Head staring up at the sky, amidst all the beauty and light, there's a darkness swirling inside you. Amidst all the life around you, you feel the opposite. And you miss him. The worst part is, you see this place becoming your home.

>>> CHAPTER 13 II