#How To Avoid Separation And Divorce

[viaviavie]

OPERATION CINDERELLA-SABOTAGE [HEARTSLABYUL]

in which he rescues you from your very short-lived wedding.

SUMMARY: due to a massive misunderstanding, a prince from royal sword academy is set to wed you at sunset. thankfully, your un-princely crush is here to save the day and crash this lovely wedding.

PAIRINGS: everyone x fem reader (separately)

WARNINGS: they're being a bit dramatic, characters are 18+, makeout (cater)

NOTES: this is echoes the ghost bride event, but listening to this prompted me to write out this scenario instead. i made this for shits and giggles, so have fun with this!

HEARTSLABYUL | SAVANACLAW | OCTANIVELLE | SCARABIA | POMEFIORE | IGNIHYDE | DIASOMNIA

There was no way you would be able to say 'no' now, not when there were hundreds of Royal Sword Academy students and even more members of a random royal family whose last names you cannot recall waiting outside that door. Aside from a completely oblivious Neige and Che'nya who was nowhere to be found, there was no one you could really ask for help to get you out of this mess.

You turn to your supposed betrothed with frantic eyes, shaking your head wildly. "I already told you, I'm not the one you danced with at the ball!" Your hisses fell on deaf ears. That damned prince from Royal Sword Academy was too busy making the 'goo-goo' eyes at you to even register what you were saying.

"I just happened to have the same shoe-size!"

Damn it, why did you have to agree to fitting some missing girl's shoe?!

Pierce Charmant, possibly the most delusional guy you have ever met in Twisted Wonderland, clung onto your calf with a stubborn expression. He had no intentions of letting you go, and neither did his five other guards that had blocked your way.

"You have to be her!"

"You don't even know my name!"

You were really counting on Grim to get someone, anyone, to stop this wedding. Yet, as you are walked down the aisle by the fair Neige, you are already planning out a divorce settlement plan. Based on the number of guests here, who had filled this entire venue from top to bottom, you would have guessed that this prince was rather rich. If it was to be an unhappy marriage, at least your wallet would be more than compensated.

You managed to convince this prince to send invitations to Night Raven College, but that didn't matter. He was so excited and in a hurry to marry, that your friends barely had any time to rescue you! There must have been so much traffic with the mirrors that they couldn't even use them! There was just no way that they'd make it in time now.

And so you consign yourself to readying some divorce papers within the next few weeks, and planning out how to avoid any more interactions with this guy while you were married.

You stood at the chapel's base, your expression exasperated than ever as you kept darting your gaze to the door. You've already tripped over the aisle a few times, fumbled the scripted vows, and even called for a bathroom break or two to stall.

And now comes the big moment that you were so desperately trying to avoid.

"Would you, Pierce Charmant, take the Ramshackle Dorm Prefect, as your lawfully wedded wife?"

The prince smiles so sickly sweet, and its the look of a man who won't change his mind.

"I do."

You grimace as the officiant faces you, just as blind to your annoyed expression.

"Would you, the Ramshackle Dorm Prefect, take Pierce Charmant as you lawfully wedded husband?" They didn't even use your name!

You pause, the image of your crush flashing before your eyes.

You would never see him again if you let yourself get married. Defiance returns to your face as you suck in a deep breath, ready to deal with the consequences of rejecting this delusional prince in front of hundreds of people.

"I—"

"I object!"

RIDDLE ROSEHEARTS

"Grim, please explain to me why I received an invitation to the Prefect's wedding... I am calm, Trey. I would just prefer to know the details before I go and fetch her myself... and may I ask one more thing? Yes, hoW IN THE WORLD DID THE PREFECT GET KIDNAPPED LIKE THIS?! DON'T YOU DARE TRY TO CALM ME DOWN, CATER. I AM PERFECTLY CALM."

Riddle calmly asked about your whereabouts, and it does not take him long to immediately get to work. As one of the better respected housewardens among the roster, it was easier to ask for a few favors that could get him to that damned cathedral fast. However, as the traffic did pile up to get to this accursed wedding, Riddle finds himself on horseback.

He does have this awful crush on you, but it never really crosses his mind. Even as he holds certain feelings for you, it's at the back of his mind. Riddle values your autonomy, and this marriage was a massive red flag. Surely, you cannot have possibly agreed to such a thing. It was just not in your nature. You would have protested, and the fact that you are not back in campus means that something is preventing you from speaking your mind. Riddle really respects you in this aspect!

Still, the idea of you marrying some prince who barely knew it was absolutely absurd. Riddle won't allow it, he absolutely won't!

The doors were flung open with a loud thud, revealing a red-head in a suit. Much to your surprise, Riddle isn't burning red with a fiery rage and threatening to have everyone's head off. He's stomping towards you and your supposed groom, fist clenched as he throws out an arm out of anger. He doesn't seem too angry, but determined.

"ENOUGH! SHE WILL BE COMING BACK TO NIGHT RAVEN COLLEGE WITH ME NOW."

Okay, maybe you were wrong about him not being angry.

His voice echoes throughout the entire cathedral, followed by several flinches at his sheer volume. Immediately, the crowd by the rows inch back a bit further as he continues to march forward, ignoring the guards that seemed to hesitate to approach him. Pierce raises a brow, almost annoyed rather than fearful of this disturbance.

"There seems to be a misunderstanding. You see, the Prefect is going to be married to me. You can sort out your affairs after the ceremony is over." Well, that didn't seem to help one bit, judging by how Riddle seemed to fume even further at this statement.

The housewarden comes to a halt, sucking in a sharp breath to calm his temper. The last thing he wanted to do right now was to frighten you.

He breathes out your name, sending a stutter through your heart.

"Do you truly want to marry this man?"

It almost makes you swoon, the way Riddle looks at you so earnestly as he asks for some affirmation. Had it been any other scenario, you would've taken your time to bore your eyes into his and study his expression. Instead, you shake your head wildly, racing down the aisle until you have hidden yourself behind him.

Riddle has the nerve to smirk at the shocked Prince. "And here, I thought princes had a code of conduct when it came to their ladies." He turned back to you with an assuring look. "I'll take you home, Prefect."

Truly, Riddle had no intentions of playing around. He had only one objective, to get you out of here. Just as he turns around to escort you out of the cathedral, a pair of guards had blocked the exit.

"No, I cannot let you leave!" Pierce cried out, ready to give chase. "Prefect, please! Give me a chance. You cannot possibly be ready to leave me for... this guy!"

Riddle's eye twitches as he cranes himself to look at the prince. "You have some nerve!" He clicks out, clenching his fists once more. Everyone feels the cathedral heat up, those closer to the aisles feeling beads of sweat form upon their temples. Even as you looked at Riddle so gently, a part of you was somewhat grateful that he was sticking up for you.

Just as his top was about to blow, you muster the will to tug on Riddle's sleeve. As quickly as his reddened face came, it disappears when he glances back at your soft expression. Huffing out a heavy sigh, Riddle clicks his tongue and marches towards the exit.

"Let's be on our way, Prefect. We shouldn't waste our precious time on these trifles."

Needless to say, no one really wanted to test the housewarden's patience as he escorted you out of that Cathedral. Riddle certainly doesn't waste time hoisting you onto his horse and galloping away, not giving the prince a second to try and retrieve you.

He grumbles about the entire ordeal, mostly questioning the absolute ridicule of the marriage. What kind of prince thinks he can get away with it? Riddle is certain to send a complain to Royal Sword Academy regarding their lessons on conduct if no one tries to stop him.

You could easily see Night Raven College from afar as you peeked from behind his tuft of red hair. Riddle is still rambling, a preferable alternative to losing his temper entirely. "That ruffian dares to marry you and has yet to learn your name! How uncouth!" He spat in absolute distaste, and he finds comfort in the way you giggle in agreement.

Riddle doesn't seem to take note of the way your arms are crossed around his middle, or maybe he does, and just chooses not to let his blush show. He cleared his throat, gripping the reigns a bit tighter. "You will find better suitors, Prefect. Just promise me that he wouldn't be so impulsive as that Prince."

TREY CLOVER

"Can you drive any faster, Deuce? No, I don't think we're late. Better safe than sorry! ... Suit, check. Speech, check. Myself, check. I've got everything in order, but... hah, I'd expect to do this type of thing a few years down the line, let alone object at a wedding at all. At least, it's the Prefect's wedding... That's such a weird thing to conceptualize at this point in time."

He really didn't have to be so dramatic about the entire thing, but Trey is really going all-out for this objection. Really, all he's done is seen movies where someone objects at a wedding and while he knows its entirely fictional, our boy here has to drive the point home; no one is marrying the Prefect today.

So that explains why he even bothered to dress up and rehearse a speech throughout the entire ride to the cathedral. He has Heartslabyul helping him out to secure an escape for you in case things went awry. Sure, Trey's Unique Magic won't come in handy but he's good with his words, and is relatively charismatic. He's earned that title of Vice Housewarden, after all.

All that preparation flies out the window when he sees you down the aisle, however.

"Trey?"

He's blinking profusely, almost flustered himself by how radiant you looked in that wedding dress. For a moment, Trey swears that he's had some sort of tunnel vision when all he seems to see is you. It strikes some envy in him when he reminds himself that this wasn't his wedding, and this wouldn't be yours either.

"Prefect..." Trey breathed out, struggling to recall the damn script he was supposed to follow. They are lost, just as he found himself lost in your sparkling gaze.

Screw the script, he was just going to have to wing this one.

He narrows his eyes onto the shocked prince, taking steps down that long carpet. "I've come to bring you back to Night Raven College."

Pierce raises a brow, glancing back at you and the intruder with suspicion. "On what grounds?" He questions snidely, uncertain of what to make of this new character. "If it is for anything trivial, then you may bother the Prefect later. You are obstructing a ceremony here, sir."

You recognize that dangerous glint behind Trey's eyes, and it only serves to make your heart race. Trey simply smirks, hiding away his hesitant exterior with a haughty farce. "I am afraid it cannot wait. I cannot allow the Prefect to be married without saying my piece."

He doesn't exactly know where all his bravado was coming from, but if he had to confess his feelings to you now, then so be it.

Trey looks at you, flashing a gentle yet sheepish smile. "Prefect, I fell for you. Hook, line, and sinker." You let out a dramatic gasp along with the onlookers, allowing a hand to fly to your parted lips. "I have harbored those feelings for a long time now, and I cannot bring myself to see you married without letting my heart be known."

Swallowing to himself, Trey's expression falters slightly, falling into one of softness. "Prefect, it is your happiness that I desire. No matter what happens, I will support your choice."

He didn't exactly have to tell you twice, not when you hurry yourself over to his side and latch onto his arm. You didn't have to feed his ego like that, but it isn't as if Trey had any room to complain.

Pierce is angered by the sight, glaring daggers at Trey with such envy and animosity. "Prefect, are you really leaving me on the altar?" As if to subtly annoy the prince even further, Trey hooks an arm around your waist and pivots you to turn. "It seems to be so, Prince Pierce. I fear that your beautiful bride will be stolen on this lovely afternoon."

You do not miss the way Trey smirks at your flustered expression. Just as he continues to walk you to the exit, you gritted your teeth at him. "Don't say such things!" You tell him as the heat rises to your cheeks. You hear him hum at your ear, followed by the slight press of his fingers on your hip.

"Why shouldn't I? You look beautiful in this dress," Trey murmurs in your ear, pushing the cathedral door open with his hand. "And I suppose that the prince hasn't coaxed this expression out of you. I almost feel sorry for him, that he never got the chance to see how lovely you are when you are putty in my hands."

Trey doesn't stop teasing you, even once you are back in Night Raven College. He wouldn't stop complimenting you either, aiming to have you as red as possible. He just can't help it. It's probably the high he got from confessing his feelings to you, or maybe it's the part where you're unsure if he was being sincere or not. Regardless, it was fun seeing you get all flustered because of him.

You are seated by the Heartslabyul's kitchen counter, snacking on some quick treats that Trey had prepared for you. He claims that it was a consolation for the fact you never got to taste your own wedding cake. Still clad in your grand wedding dress, you couldn't exactly care any less about the crumbs soiling the skirts. "You're no prince charming, Trey." You mentioned mid-bite, eyes glancing at the vice-housewarden who was seated across from you.

"What makes you say that?" He asks you with a slight smile, resting his chin on his palm as he shamelessly bored his gaze into yours.

You snort, rolling your eyes at his seemingly sweet disposition. "Prince Charmings don't tease the girls that they like until they're as red as Riddle." You huffed, digging your fork into the pastry. "You cruel man! You haven't stopped ever since you stole me from the prince!"

Trey chuckles, and you cannot keep yourself from gulping as he leaves his seat, sauntering towards you like a lion would his prey. "Oh? I suppose that I am no Prince Charming. I'm not a pure white knight either. If you think I am being cruel, I won't stop you, sweetheart."

Your heart stutters as he slides a finger underneath your chin, tilting your head so that your forced to look his way. Trey smiles at you, eyes twinkling with absolute mischief. "I highly doubt Prince Charmings steal kisses from their crushes either. For you, I will be kind. May I, sweetheart? I do not need your shoe size to know my feelings for you, at least."

CATER DIAMOND

"Gah, it just refreshed! They've just gotten past the walking part! Deuce, shortcut on your left! Sorry, I'm switching tabs between maps and the livestream! Prefect looks is such a cutie in that dress, it makes me so envious of the prince! Oh well, she really looks like she doesn't wanna be there anyways. I'm coming Prefect! I'll save you!"

There's just this image of Cater clinging onto Deuce on a blastcycle, raising his phone up for a signal as they attempt to maneuver their way through the streets. Everything just happened in such a rush, and Cater's scrambling to get to you. He isn't like Trey who bothers to prepare, but if anything, Cater will ramp up the dramatics to the maximum.

His real goal is just to get you out by any means necessary, and more preferably, without violence. So Cater will do what he does best; make a grand spectacle of the entire thing until the prince is forced to abdicate. Worst case scenario, he's going to drag you out the door and shove you onto the damn blastcycle.

If he has to play the part of your real paramour, then he hopes you'll forgive him. He's got the suit and the desperate look on his face ready to go!

Your jaw goes slack at the way Cater makes a dramatic run for the aisle, somewhat unused to that stricken expression on his face. You're almost concerned for him with the way he grips his knees, attempting to keep his balance as his eyes zone in onto yours.

"Prefect, you can't marry him!" It's too out of character of Cater, and you know better than to think he'd ever be this undone in public. "Is this what you really want?!" Before you could even reply, Pierce cuts in with a slight glare.

"And who are you to talk to my bride like that?" It is then when you catch wind of that mischievous glint in Cater's eye as he throws out his arm dramatically.

"I am the Prefect's sweetheart! Who are you to take my girlfriend like that?"

You have never heard the cathedral go so silent. You are utterly speechless, lips parted with absolute surprise. Clearly, judging by the way sweat had begun to form on the side of Cater's temple, you cannot help but think that this was all improv on his half.

Pierce turns to look at you, almost stricken by the ginger's declaration. "Prefect, is that true?" His voice trembles with fear. "Is that truly your... sweetheart?"

A part of you feels a bit sorry for what you were about to do, but you had to remind yourself that you had been dragged into a wedding on the same day you met this prince.

You are running now, sprinting to Cater's side as you clutch his hand in your own. Turning back to the scandalized prince, you nod firmly, playing along with the farce. "We've been dating for a long time now! And I'm in love with him!" You declare, sending gasps throughout the entire cathedral.

You glance up at Cater, mustering a smile across your features. "You came to save me!" He's almost surprised by the way you cling onto him even harder, but it only serves to sell the act even further. Cater smiles in return, holding you closely. "I'd never let you go, cutie. I love you too much to let you leap into the arms of another man."

Maybe the act is too good, too calculated. That is exactly what goes through your head as Pierce raises a brow in suspicion, narrowing his eyes onto the pair as if attempting to spot a mistake. "Is that so?" He murmurs until he crosses his arms, disbelief on his skeptical expression.

"Prove it."

Cater and you freeze up simultaneously, heads turning to glance at one another. He looked so caught off guard by Pierce's demand, and there's so many eyes on you both.

"You're both longtime sweethearts, right? I wouldn't want to split apart such a happy couple..."

Cater is staring at you, attempting to read your expression. It's difficult, especially when you look at him as your gaze gets even more glossy. He wouldn't want to do anything you didn't want to, and he's already readying himself to sprint out the door with you in tow.

"Prefect, you don't have to—mmph!"

You wasted no time in snaking your arms around his neck, pressing your lips against him with such boldness. He could feel you pour all your wants and longings into the kiss, the plush of your soft lips melding into his own. How could he not deny you his own affections, not as he cups your cheeks with his slender fingers and presses back against you.

He dares to go even further, pulling back for a slight gasp of air before diving back into you. Much to his delight, you aren't pulling away either, choosing to even entangle your fingers into his hair for leverage.

Then you hear a groan from the prince, followed by his pleas for you two to stop this display. It seems that he got the point now, at least.

Even as both of you exit the cathedral, Cater still maintains the image that he was your boyfriend. You don't exactly protest, and even then, it didn't seem to different to the way Cater had been treating you as a friend. He is still as clingy as ever, closing the physical proximities by having you hang onto his arm.

And you best believe he's snapping as much photos of you to commemorate the event. He's already updating his MagiCam account on his success, not to mention the pretty girl on his arm.

"Cater, what are you doing?" You asked, unable to hide the grin on your face as Cater sets up his camera against the tire of the blastcycle. You could see yourselves on the reflection of the device, followed by the grand beauty of the cathedral behind you both. He grins at you as he shifts at your side.

"What? It isn't everyday a cutie like you gets to look like a bride. We got the perfect backdrop!" He sings, sliding an arm around your waist as he strikes for a pose. You follow his lead, matching his energy with each shot.

"Careful! People are going to think we're dating for real!"

Cater smirks at you, leaning in closely to your ear with a sickeningly sweet tease. "Wanna make it official then, cutie? Can't have any random princes asking for your hand, not when you're dating me." He is not stranger to the way you blush, letting out a chuckle at the sight.

"Aw, cutie! Are you still thinking about the kiss? I didn't think you would be so bold about it." Pressing a quick peck on the cheek, he rests his chin on your head as he prepares for another pose. "Don't worry. CayCay's gonna initiate it next time!"

DEUCE SPADE

"Grim, which way?! I can't see the GPS! ... Don't I just have to go in there and yell 'I object'? It looks easy! I'll say it then drag Prefect out of there... Ha?! I need to prove that I have a good reason to get her out? Fine! I don't care, the Prefect needs me!"

Possibly the closest we will get to a legit Prince Charming. Perhaps Deuce is a bit on the rugged side, but he's possibly one of the most earnest and noble students from Night Raven College. He cares about you more than he cares about getting his feelings across, but that is not to say he won't be honest about it either in this confrontation.

He's not exactly sure on how to break up the ceremony. Grim and Ace are coaching him through what to say, and admittedly, the process seems too complicated. All he knows is that he has to run through those doors and convince the prince to not marry the Prefect by any means necessary.

"Deuce!"

He is the one to always come running at the sound of your name. Deuce had been someone you trusted during your stay here in Twisted Wonderland, and you never seemed to stop and think about just how attached that boy was to you. Sure, you held him closely as a friend and held affections for him, but the way he sprinted towards you was a testament to how much he cared.

"Prefect!" You are racing to meet him halfway, launching yourself into his chest. He catches you barreling into his suit, immediately wrapping his arms around you in a protective manner. Then he takes you by the soldiers, looking down at you with such concern and worry. "Are you hurt? Are you okay?" He fusses, earning a shy smile from you.

"I'm okay, Deuce. I'm okay."

"And what is the meaning of this?"

Catching sight of the infuriated prince, Deuce beckons you to stand behind him. Cerulean eyes narrow onto the groom with animosity, accompanied by the way his hands are itching towards his wand. "I can't let you marry her. The Prefect will be returning to Night Raven College with me." You can sense the nervousness in his tone, but Deuce remains firm in his words.

Pierce's eye twitches, and he scoffed in disbelief at Deuce's protective display. "I am afraid that cannot be possible. I am marrying the Prefect, and that is final." Clicking his tongue, Pierce rolls his eyes and holds out his hand for you to take. "Come, darling. I am not surprised that you have garnered the affections of an admirer, but I fancy you more than this one ever could."

Something in Deuce snaps as he lets out a cry.

"But I love her!"

You stiffen against his back, taken by surprise by Deuce's sudden confession. And the boy glares, and it almost so painful for Pierce to keep his stare, not when there was so much conviction and certainty behind Deuce's voice.

"I've loved her longer than you have, and known her much longer than that!" His voice cracks underneath the emotional turmoil bubbling within him. "Did you even stop to consider what she wants? Did you wonder if this wedding would make her happy in the first place?!"

You take note of how Deuce's fists are clenched pale, how his breaths had suddenly grown haggard. With a soft expression, you curl yourself onto his back, arms hugging him from behind in an attempt to placate him. His body stiffens against your hold, but he reaches to clasp your hands onto his own.

He is just thankful that you aren't seeing the way his eyes had begun to water at the thought of losing you entirely. "So please," He chokes out, expression twisted with a sort of agony.

"Please don't force her to marry you. She deserves so much more than that."

Thanks to the waterworks that Deuce had caused, the wedding was called off. There was just no way that the prince could marry you after Deuce poured his heart out to deter him from wedding you.

It's almost sweet, the way that Deuce lifts you onto the blastcycle and fixes the helmet onto your head. He encourages you to hold onto him tightly as he speeds away from the cathedral, all the more determined to settle you back into NRC.

By the time he's dropped you off at the Ramshackle Dorm, only then does he take the time to bask in how radiant you appeared in a wedding dress. Thinking about his crush in a wedding dress had never crossed Deuce's mind before, but this definitely gave him something to ponder about for the next couple of nights.

You are handing him the helmet, a shy smile surfacing across your features. "Thank you for saving me from that awful wedding." Deuce clears his throat, shifting his gaze as he takes the helmet from your grasp. "I didn't want you to do something you weren't willing to. It just isn't right."

He doesn't realize just how dry his throat as gotten when he cannot bring himself to keep his thoughts to himself. "I love you. I really do, and I wish I said it at a better time." He swallows to himself, letting the embarrassment burn into the back of his head as he recalls his declaration. It was only natural that 'like' would turn into 'love' after being your close confidant for this long, pining quietly during the months spent with you.

You cannot exactly blame him either, not when his feelings were entirely reciprocated. You shift on the balls of your heel, biting onto your lower lip.

And in a swift motion, you lean in to press a chaste kiss against Deuce's warm cheek. You pull away to bask upon the stunned expression on his face, only to give him a shy smile of your own.

"Would you be down to try confessing again tomorrow?"

ACE TRAPPOLA

"BAHAHAHAHA! THERE'S NO WAY THE PREFECT IS GETTING MARRIED. WHO WOULD EVER WANNA MARRY THE PREFECT? PFFFFT, GRIM, YOU'RE SERIOUSLY PULLING MY LEG HERE. YOU EVEN BROUGHT ME A FAKE INVITATION! AIN'T NO WAY THAT SHE— Oh... Wait, really? The wedding is happening right now? ... Oh."

Ace thought you were just messing him again for that one time he said that no one would ever be interested in you. He simply said that to discourage you from trying to pursue a relationship with anyone else, but he didn't mean for you to prove him wrong like that! He never believes Grim until Deuce, Riddle, and the rest of Heartslabyul receive invitations to a wedding that was meant to start in 3 hours.

This is the absolute worst time to be in denial about his feelings. The Prefect wearing a wedding gown is one thing, but another is the fact that the groom is some pompous prince from Royal Sword Academy. Does that guy seriously think he was your type? No way! Ace knows you better than anyone on this campus, so this guy can buzz off!

A part of him did think that you were serious about marrying this stranger. In all fairness, Crowley's allowance pales in comparison to whatever Mr. Money-Bags had over there. He wouldn't blame you if you were marrying the guy for money.

Still, the last thing he wants is for you to be whisked away to who knows where. Ace would never see you again, and as embarrassing as it sounds, he did get very attached to you. Yes, a part of him wants to keep you to himself, but he also values your autonomy here. And if he knew you that well, he knows that you wouldn't want to be married off like this.

"Prefect, I'm here to pick you up."

You are actually surprised by how princely Ace looked in that moment. Dressed in a suit befitting a groom, you could help but feel your breath stolen away once his scarlet eyes were pinned onto yours. You could have been fooled then, and perhaps, Ace did turn into a prince as he marched down the aisle with his arm outstretched for you to take.

Ace never realizes the way a victorious smile creeps onto his face when you break out into a grin, taking the skirt of your dress as you make run for it. The crowd gasps as you crashed into Ace's chest, and he does not hesitate to take a protective stance in front of you. With a haughty laugh, he smirks at the baffled prince. "Who are you?!"

The redhead's arm wraps around your waist, pressing your body closer to his own. "Sorry about that, but I'll be taking your bride indefinitely! Trust me, you'll be severely disappointed after spending one good day with her!" He snickered, much to your horrified expression. You lightly smack at his chest, glaring at him with that pout that he adores so much.

"Hey!" You whine, and Ace simply beams at the prince who hesitantly steps forward. The redhead snorts, rolling his eyes at the crowd that are offended at his immature display. "I'm doing you a great favor here! If you kissed those lips, she'll turn into an ugly green ogre by sunset!"

"HEY!"

Pierce's eyebrows are furrowed as he looks at you, as if pleading for you to return to his arms. "You'd best return her, boy. We can settle this maturely." Ace does not like the way that these bodyguards are eyeing him, shifting closer and closer as he backed you both towards the venue entrance. He never falters, and neither does that shit-eating grin on his face.

"Sorry, buddy. The clock's struck midnight and all your magic tricks are fading!" He barks. Now, he knows that an escape must be made. The last thing he wants is to have another Eliza-episode. He looks down at you with a wide grin, clasping you arm with a firm squeeze.

Ace sneaks into his pocket, still looking at you. "You know something, Charmant? Maybe not all the magic has gone yet." His hand reveals the Ace of Cards, and it is immediately thrown up into the air.

As the card reached its peak in height, a burst of smoke filled the air, obscuring the magician and yourself from view.

You don't exactly need a signal to start running when your feet began moving on their own, dashing towards the door followed by the Ace's laugh and the prince's demand for guards.

Ace has no white horse, but he has Deuce with his blastcycle! Who knows how the three of you managed to fit on that bike, but you made it work! The guards couldn't exactly catch up in their cars, not when Deuce was dodging vehicles left and right to make this escape. Ace did take one final look back, sticking his tongue out at the defeated prince before you all disappeared around the corner.

Ace gives you his shoes, despite how oversized they may be. You complained about those glass shoes on you, and to 'shut you up', he's given you his runners.

When you make it back to Night Raven College and all the adrenaline has died down, Ace stays by your side the entire time when you explain the entire situation to Crewel and Crowley. He acts so nonchalant about things, even as you both walk all over the campus like groom and bride.

It's a rather odd sight; you in your wedding gown, and Ace right next to you as you both sit on the bench by the Great Seven's statues. Students wandering about at night had given both of you puzzled stares, but no one is ever surprised when they realize it's you and Ace, however.

"Wow, Prefect. Not even a thank you?" He glances at your slightly annoyed expression, throwing his hands up defensively in response. "I was kidding about the ogre stuff! Really!"

You could only roll your eyes at his words, huffing as you crossed your arms across your chest. When you refuse to speak, Ace sticks out his lower lip into a pout as he leans his head onto your shoulder. "Come on, don't be like that. Are you actually that upset about it?"

There is no response from you, not even a glance as your nose is turned away from him. Then Ace sighs, practically clambering over your lap just so that you are forced to look at him. "Prefeeeect, I said I was sorry! What? Do I have to kiss you to make me apology authentic?"

Only then do you look back at him with a raised brow, almost expectant. Ace blinks with surprise, a slight blush creeping to his ears. "For real? You're serious?" He exclaimed, much to your agitation. You sigh even louder as you shove him off your lap, hastily getting up to your feet to leave him behind.

"Wait! Prefect, I said wait!" You feel a hand on your wrist, twirling you back to face the redhead. Ace bites onto his lower lip, unable to keep the red from flooding his cheeks. "I really just said all that mean stuff to get the prince off your back, you know? I didn't think you'd take it so seriously."

And when he sees that smirk creeping up onto your features, he groans as he leans in closely into your space.

"Now look at what you've done! You had me all panicked over what?" You feel his breath tickling your lips, followed by the way his hands crawl up your neck to cradle your jaw.

"If you just wanted a kiss, you could've asked..."

[oneforthemunny]

idk if he's included but i'm going to shoot my shot anyways. what's something ex-husband!eddie does for ex-wife!reader, that others would think nothing of, that turns her on & has her second guessing the divorce solely bc of how hot he is? if that makes any sense at all lolll

shoot it bc i love him lmao. he's so hot. and there's honestly nothing hotter than him just being a dad sorry!!!! he's hot at it!!!!!

contains: a little smut but nothing graphic. they're fighting ofc lol.

"Luce, where's your tap shoes?" You frown, looking around the three year old's messy room, cluttered with toys and clothes that you hadn't got a chance to clean, or supervise her cleaning.

"I dunno," Lucy hummed, dragging her stuffed elephant along her sheets towards the other stuffed animals. "I thinks Daddy has them."

"You left them at dad's?" You swallow back a huff of irritation, eyes pinching closed.

You and Eddie weren't exactly on speaking terms at the moment. After a few weeks of bliss, of you nearly caving and letting him move back in, agreeing to work it out in therapy and give it another shot, he'd done what he always had- pissed you off. A bickering that turned into a fight, that led you both back to your separate spaces. Over what? You weren't exactly sure you even remembered.

It had been four days exactly that you had managed to avoid Eddie. Not speaking at the exchanging of the kids, you'd flat out ignored his greeting to you, and now, because of a stupid pair of tap shoes, you'd have to give in and speak to him.

"Hello?" He picked up on the third ring.

"Hey, it's me." You quipped, lips rolling around your snippy tone. "Lucy said she left her tap shoes at your house."

"Yeah, she did." Eddie's tone was just as biting, matching your lack of amusement.

You huffed. "Well, she needs them. She has dance in thirty minutes."

"So come get them?" Eddie scoffed.

"Nice. Sure, Ed, I'll just go out of my way to come get them because you couldn't remember to pack them. Way to go." You snapped sarcastically, venom dripping in your tone. You hoped he could feel your glare.

"Oh? This is my- of course, it's my fuckin' fault."

"It is your fuck-" You turned, looking to make sure Lucy was still in front of the television eating her snack. "It is your fuckin' fault, you ass. You want to act like you're dad of the year, and you don't even know her dance schedule?"

"I'm not doin' this with you, alright? I'm gonna hang up if you're just going to be a bitch." Eddie snapped. You could picture him, that tone too familiar. His jaw clenched tight, nostrils flaring the way they did when he was pissed. Maybe his fists clenched, forearm veins popping out.

"Just- Can you just bring them to the dance studio by four please?" You rolled your eyes. "I'm already running late. I have to get gas and get Lucy dressed."

"Fine." Eddie snapped. You didn't get a chance to reply, the other line ending with a harsh click.

Twenty-six minutes later, you were pulling into the dance studio. Between a three year old who refused to get dressed, waiting for pumps, and the unusual traffic in Hawkins, your nerves were shot and you were cutting it close. You were glad Jude was at a sleepover at the Harrington's for the night.

Eddie was there when you pulled in, standing outside his car, smoking a cigarette. You grit your teeth at the sight of him, lips wrapped around the stick, blowing smoke. You hated how your stomach flipped with excitement.

"Do you have them?" You stepped out of the car, moving to the backseat, barely glancing over at him.

"Hello to you too, Sunshine." Eddie huffed sarcastically, flicking his cigarette to the ground and stepping on it.

You rolled your eyes, trying to soften your face when you opened the back car door to get Lucy out. "Daddy brought your shoes, so let's put them on so you'll be ready to go." You cooed gently, unstrapping her out, hoisting her on your hip.

"Eddie, can you hurry-" You stopped when he emerged, little tiny tap shoes hooked on his pinky, Lucy's pink dance bag slung over his shoulder.

"I got it, Mama." Eddie's tone was light but more of a snarl. You didn't respond, eyes rolling down his frame instead.

Your tongue rolled over your bottom lip, watching him put her little shoes on, fastening the tiny buckles. You lingered behind them when he walked her in, her little hand in his, the pink bag slung over his shoulder. You hated how weak in the knees it made you, seeing him be a dad- be a good dad. And dammit, he might have been a shit husband at times, but he was a good dad.

"Thank you." Your arms stayed folded over your chest but your tone was lighter when he came back out from dropping Lucy off. "That really saved me a lot of time."

"Don't mention it." Eddie's tone was still tight, nerves rattled with built up tension from the past days.

He started towards his car, you followed close behind him. "What are you doing now?"

Eddie turned at your tone, carefully. "What?"

You huffed, eyes rolling big and dramatic. "What are you doing now?" You repeated.

"Nothing." Eddie was cautious, unsure- even if he was sure, he was always a little unsure with you these days.

"Well, I mean, do you want to wait with me? Then maybe we can go get dinner. Me, you, and Luce? It's just us girls tonight." Your eyes rolled over his frame, his tight band tee.

Eddie squinted lightly. "Yeah? Sure. That'd be nice."

"Good." You hummed, opening the back seat. "Could you help me out? I can't get this back seat to lay down again. I think it might be stuck." It was not nearly as smooth as you wanted it to be, you never really were, but Eddie didn't mind. He swallowed back his smirk, scanning the parking lot. Good thing he'd picked the back spot, away from everyone.

He had you pinned against the seats, rutting into you mercilessly while you clawed at him, hands tangling in his hair pulling him closer and close. It was quick then, fulfilling but quick. You both had a giddy glow when you picked up Lucy, hoping the other parents wouldn't notice your tousled hair.

Later that night, after the dinner invitation had turned into an invite over, Eddie got to have you the way he wanted. Face buried between your thighs, his way of apologizing, while you shoved your face into a pillow- his pillow, trying to muffle your moans.

[vigilante-3073]

Law & Medicine

James Wilson x Female Attorney Reader

Summary: James Wilson has a secret relationship and House finally discovers it.

TW: Dating, rude comments, House being House.

James Wilson had a secret and House was determined to figure out what it was. House figured that Wilson had been keeping this secret for quite a long time. At first he had been careful, but now he was starting to slip up.

Wilson had changed. It wasn't anything extreme, but he took more time for himself and had started to become more secretive. Normally, it was not an issue, but now that House seemed to be fighting for Wilson's time, he knew there had to be something big going on.

Originally, he hoped that whatever was distracting Wilson would blow over. House almost thought that it did, but then he noticed that Wilson started avoiding him.

House planned on going through Wilson's phone when he left it in his office like he usually did, but it wasn't there. Wilson had started keeping his phone on him at all times and even stepping out of the room when he received a phone call.

His emails showed nothing besides some conversations with his divorce attorney, but he should have the woman on speed dial after three divorces. House was sure that they even exchanged Christmas gifts with how much money he brought to their law firm.

House was at a loss and when he finally got ahold of Wilson's phone it was more of the same. He did notice that Wilson had a chain of text messages with his attorney which made him reconsider his earlier dismissal of the emails.

House looked up the woman online, she was a certified divorce attorney in New Jersey that worked for a reputable law firm. It just seemed strange to him that there had been recent conversations despite Wilson having been divorced for years. It was always possible that one of his ex-wives had dragged him through a legal tar pit again, but it was highly unlikely.

Wilson had separated from his wives amicably and none of them harbored any ill will towards him. House reached out to Sam, Bonnie and Julie individually in order to figure what attorney they used in their divorces.

None of the woman used Y/N L/N.

...

Wilson stepped into his office and sighed when he saw House laying on his couch, "Can I help you with something, House?" Wilson asked. He took off his lab coat and sat down at his desk, opening one of his files.

"I know your secret, Wilson," House stated, bouncing his cane on the ground beside himself.

"What secret?" Wilson asked, flipping the page in his folder.

"You've been keeping secrets from me and I got curious. A simple search through your text messages and emails told me that you're speaking to a lawyer," House said.

Wilson looked up at him, "You went through my messages?" He asked incredulously.

"Of course I did. I also called your ex-wives," House said.

Wilson scoffed, shutting his file and tossing his pen down on the desk, "Why? Why would you do that?" Wilson asked.

"If one of your ex-wives were raking you over the coals again, I wanted to know. But none of them had ever heard of this divorce attorney before," House stated.

Wilson sighed, running his hands over his face in frustration, "Why do you need to know everything that goes on in my life?" He questioned.

"You were avoiding me," House said.

Wilson shook his head, "I can't believe you called my ex-wives. That is just- I don't even know what to say," He said.

"Who's the attorney and why do you need one?" House asked.

"If I tell you will you leave it alone?" Wilson asked.

"Depends on what the answer is," House said.

"Her name is Y/N and we're engaged," Wilson admitted.

House sat up, looking over at his friend, "You're engaged to a divorce attorney? Have you learned nothing? That's like taking a crap in the middle of your dinner table, you just don't do that," House said.

"This is exactly why I didn't tell you!" Wilson exclaimed.

"I'm not wrong and you know it. This marriage is gonna crash and burn like the last ones, but this time she's gonna take everything. Lawyers are sharks and you're chumming the water," House said. He stood up from the couch and limped over to the doorway.

"You should know better, Wilson. Come find me when your marriage falls apart," House said, stepping out of the office and slamming the door. Wilson huffed, shaking his head before returning to his paperwork.

...

Wilson was working in his office, filling out some paperwork in patient files when his phone buzzed on the desk. He set his pen down and picked up his cellphone, smiling when he saw the message notification on his phone.

Y/N: 'Hey, I'm meeting a client at PPTH and was wondering if you want to meet for lunch after. Let me know.'

The smile quickly fell from his face as he called her, raising the phone up to his ear. Wilson could feel his heart speeding up in his chest as the line rang. There was a soft click as Y/N answered his call.

"Hey, you," She greeted softly.

"Are you here?" Wilson asked.

"Yeah, I just walked in. Why? Is everything okay? " Y/N asked.

"Can you just meet me in my office? I think a friend of mine might be trying to mess with me by hiring you and I just need to be sure," Wilson said.

Y/N let out a small laugh, "You work with people who would do something that juvenile? " She questioned.

Wilson sighed, "Unfortunately... Just stop by my office before you go there, okay?" He requested.

"I'm on my way up, I'll see you in a minute," Y/N said.

"See you in a bit," Wilson said, hanging up the phone and tossing it down on the desk.

Wilson sat in silence for a moment as he debated what he was going to do if House was really doing what Wilson thought. If he was, there would definitely be some serious consequences.

Maybe he could mess with his piano or replace his Vicodin with laxatives or maybe even destroy his guitar. It would definitely be cathartic to smash his guitar to smithereens after having his privacy violated.

A soft knock sounded on the door of his office, "Come in," He called.

Y/N opened the door and stepped into his office, "So, who do you think is screwing with you?" Y/N asked, sitting down in the chair in front of his desk. She crossed her legs, setting her briefcase on the floor by her feet.

"Gregory House," Wilson said.

"That's my client," Y/N replied.

"My god, he's crazy and he can never let things go... He thought I was being secretive and he went through my phone and computer. He found our messages and called my ex-wives to figure out if they knew you. Then he told me not to talk to him until our marriage fell apart," Wilson rambled, gesturing wildly.

Y/N listened to him silently before standing up from her seat and grabbing her briefcase.

"I'm going to go talk to this douchebag and I'll meet you back here in under an hour, okay?" Y/N questioned.

"He doesn't need a lawyer, Y/N," Wilson stated.

"I'll handle it, honey. Just stay put," She advised, Wilson nodded.

Y/N moved around the desk, leaning down and giving Wilson a quick kiss before making her way out of his office.

"This isn't going to be good," Wilson mumbled to himself.

[nevereclipse]

Daddy

Pairing: Tim Bradford x exwife!fbi!reader

Word count: 1k

Genre: angst

Requested: yes, here

Summary: After being called in to help on a manhunt, Tim's ex-wife has to drop off their son Oliver to Tim.

Warnings: mentions of separation & divorce, allusions to serial killers.

A/N: I hope this is kind of what you wanted? I struggled with this a bit!

---

Tim was well and truly ready to go home. It’d been a colossal day – a serial killer had crossed over from Nevada and, for some reason, had thought it LA would be the best place to hide. Meaning Tim had spent his entire day manhunting for a man who had yet to be found. The FBI had mobilized, and was set to be arriving any minute, and Tim really, really wanted to go home. There was a game on he didn’t want to miss, and honestly, his joints weren’t what they used to be, so he was ready to spend some well-deserved time on a sofa, alone, preferably with an ice-cold beer. He’d even shut his phone off completely, a rare occurrence, so that no one could disturb his piece. Not even Lopez or Chen.

Your day, on the other hand, was only just beginning. You’d been called into Mid-Wilshire to help with the manhunt for Seamus Connery at midday, but you hadn’t managed to arrive until almost five. Your six year old, Oliver, had been stubbornly refusing to leave the house, and you were admittedly hesitant to bring him into a room full of cops without confirmation that your husband would be able to take him for a night that wasn’t scheduled.

You’d tried to avoid going to Tim, of course. After your divorce was finalised things had been… messy. Not hateful, but messy. You’d fallen apart the same way you’d fallen in love: quickly and all-consumingly. You weren’t even divorced properly yet, but you’d moved away from Mid-Wilshire to Hollywood, and the thought of seeing Tim… ow. But your regular sitter hadn’t been available, and frankly, you didn’t know how long you’d been in Mid-Wilshire tracking Connery for.

So here you were.

You walked into the station, Oliver on your hip, searching for Tim before you had to brief the night shift about how they were proceeding. You scanned the room, but Tim was nowhere to be seen.

“Am I gonna... to stay with Daddy?” Oliver asked, looking up at you with the blue eyes that where entirely his fathers.

“Yeah, baby, you’re going to stay with your Daddy for tonight.” You replied, brushing a hand over his head. You still couldn’t find Tim.

“Excuse me,” you said, catching a dark-haired brunette woman by the arm. You smiled to yourself slightly at the graphicness of her tee. Clearly a detective. “Do you know where I can find Tim Bradford?”

The woman glanced at you appraisingly. “Depends, who are you?”

You considered telling her the truth for a moment, but you didn’t know how much Tim had told his coworkers about you, and… well, he wasn’t exactly the type to mix his personal and work life. So you settled on, “Agent L/N, FBI. I need to speak with him.”

The detective squinted briefly, but nodded, before turning and yelling across the open room, “Oi, Bradford! There’s an FBI agent here for you!”

Tim turned around, and your eyes found each other immediately. Even six months after the divorce, you were still stunned by him every time you saw him. As was your son, it seemed, because he immediately pushed his way out of your arms and ran towards his father.

“Daddy!” he yelled, stumbling over his tiny feet as he ran to Tim. He reached Tim quickly, and despite the pain, your heart fluttered slightly at the sight of Tim hugging his son.

“Hey, buddy,” he said, picking Oliver up and walking warily towards you. You weren’t supposed to drop Oliver off for another three days. “What’re you doing here?”

“Mummy… uh… Mummy…” Your son frowned and looked at you, evidently unsure what the reason for your impromptu trip was.

You smiled softly and addressed your answer more to Oliver than Tim. “Mommy has to help out with finding a really important person.”

Recognition flared in Tim’s eyes, “You’re here for Connery?”

You nodded, “I’m your FBI liaison.”

Tim laughed slightly. Not in a judgemental way, but in a way that screamed ‘what are the chances I’ll be working directly with my ex-but-not-really-ex-wife for the immediate future.’ You couldn’t help but echo the sentiment.

“Can you take Oliver tonight? I know it’s not your day, but I don’t… know how long I’ll be needed here for.” You gnawed at the flesh inside your mouth, hating having to ask Tim for anything anymore.

But of course, he just nodded. “Of course.” Tim’s eyes lingered on your face for a moment, but he quickly broke away to address Oliver, “What do you say, bud? You want to stay with Daddy tonight?”

Words couldn’t express your son’s joy, nor the look of pure shock on the detective’s face as she stared between you and Tim. There was another girl, younger, in a patrol uniform next to her. Both had dropped jaw and wide eyes. Tim ushered you away from them, and the feel of his hand on your shoulder seemed to burn through your clothes.

“Listen.” Tim paused, visibly hesitant. “Do you have somewhere to stay?”

You shook your head, “I’ll find a motel somewhere. I’ll probably be spending most of my time at the station.”

Tim frowned, “You should stay with me. I know it’s…” He fumbled for a word, settling on, “awkward, but…”

You actually scoffed. “No, Tim. I… no. That’s not going to happen.” You knew he meant well, but you could barely fight the urge to laugh in his face. Sure, a big part of you that you tried your best to ignore still loved him, but you were also bitter. Bitter at how quickly the softness between you two had faded, how quickly everything had fallen apart. You’d been so good together, and now… you could barely look him in the eye.

Still, for your son’s sake, you put on a slight smile and said, “I’ll see you tomorrow, Tim,” before focusing on your child.

You didn’t wait to hear Tim’s reply.

[cbeargyu]

hi! can i make a request of husband beomgyu pls 🥹 love you as always <33

second chance

summary: after weeks apart and a looming divorce, a tearful call from beomgyu leads to an emotional reunion. through painful honesty, soft memories, and tender promises, you both choose to love again.

pairing: husband!beomgyu x wife!reader

genre: angst, hurt/comfort, fluff, slow burn, marriage reconciliation, established relationship

warnings: mentions of divorce, emotional breakdowns, crying, soft intimate scenes (suggestive not explicit), hopeful ending.

wc: 9,3k

notes: anon, thank you for your request T-T beomgyu as a husband is such a cute concept, I love him so much, these days I've been so obsessed with him, as you can tell, he's the one I've written the most fanfics about HAHAHA but really, I can't let him go, I hope you like this fic🩷

the second you heard the door unlock, your heart sank. not from fear, not even from fury anymore—just from the unbearable weight of disappointment. 2:47 a.m. the digital clock on the wall blinked mockingly in the silence. your legs were stiff from sitting too long, your arms folded so tightly across your chest they almost numbed your skin.

beomgyu walked in quietly, carelessly, like it wasn’t the third time that week he got home long past midnight.

he looked up, and for a moment, he froze. “you’re still up?”

you didn’t move. “yeah. shocking, huh?”

he let out a soft sigh and closed the door behind him, dropping his keys in the little ceramic bowl you’d both picked out together on your honeymoon. “we stayed late. my boss brought everyone drinks.”

you laughed under your breath, but it was bitter and sharp. “again?”

“it wasn’t like that,” he mumbled, toeing off his shoes. “you know how it is. if i want a shot at the promotion, i have to—”

“what?” you interrupted, your voice calm but taut like a stretched wire. “kiss ass? let him walk you around like some lapdog while your wife waits up, thinking maybe this time he’s in a ditch somewhere? or maybe—just maybe—he’s fucking someone else?”

he straightened up sharply. “don’t do that.”

“don’t do what?” you tilted your head, your expression unreadable. “don’t say out loud what’s been sitting in my throat for months?”

“you know damn well i wouldn’t cheat on you,” he snapped, finally facing you head-on. “i’ve been busting my ass for us. for this house. for our future.”

“and what future is that, beomgyu?” your voice cracked despite you. “we haven’t kissed in weeks. you don’t even look at me when we’re in bed. you roll over, you sleep, you wake up, you leave. when did we stop being us?”

he walked past you, his face hard, avoiding your gaze as if it burned. “i’m tired, y/n. we both are.”

“so that’s it? you’re tired?” you followed him, your steps heavier, breath catching in your throat. “we used to be a team. now we’re just… roommates who occasionally fight.”

he turned slowly, exhaustion etched deep in the lines under his eyes. “i don’t know what to do anymore.”

you looked at him for a long time. really looked. he was still your husband. still the boy who walked you home from school in the rain, who held your hand during every hospital visit your mom had, who cried like a child on your wedding night because he couldn’t believe he got to marry you.

but he was also someone else now. someone closed off. hardened.

“maybe we should separate,” you said, and it landed between you both like a gunshot in a silent room.

his lips parted, but no sound came out.

“just… for a while,” you added, as if softening the blow would make it less real. “i’ll go to my parents’ place in the morning. take some time to think.”

beomgyu looked down, his fists trembling by his sides. and then, slowly, he nodded.

“if this marriage is hurting us more than helping us,” he said hoarsely, “then maybe… yeah. maybe it’s the right thing.”

you didn’t cry. not then. your throat burned and your chest felt like it had caved in, but no tears came. maybe because you’d cried them all out on nights like this, waiting and waiting, hoping he’d still fight for you.

he didn’t beg. didn’t ask you to stay.

he just turned away.

when the sun broke through the blinds, the house felt like a ghost town. you barely said anything as you stuffed a few bags, folding clothes like you were packing for a short trip instead of leaving a life behind. beomgyu helped, but in silence. his face blank, his movements mechanical.

he walked you to the car with his hands in the pockets of his hoodie.

“you should take the car,” he said, handing you the keys. “it’ll be safer. i'll manage.”

you stared at him for a long time, hoping—just hoping—he’d stop you. say something. ask you to give him one more day. but all he did was give you a sad smile.

“take care,” he murmured, barely audible. “let’s think about everything. properly. maybe some space is what we need.”

you bit the inside of your cheek so hard it tasted like iron. “yeah,” you said, your voice cracking. “maybe.”

you didn’t look back.

the drive to your parents’ house took forty minutes. but it felt like you were crossing continents. the entire world blurred outside your window as you clutched the steering wheel like a lifeline. every traffic light turned green for you—no stops. no pauses. just movement.

when you pulled into the familiar driveway, your hands were shaking.

your mother opened the door before you even rang the bell. maybe she’d known. maybe mothers always do. you didn’t say anything—you just collapsed into her arms, burying your face into her shoulder as the tears finally came, violent and unstoppable.

“oh, my love…” she whispered, stroking your hair. “you’re home.”

you clung to her like a child, sobbing harder than you had in years. twelve years. twelve years with beomgyu. how do you start to forget something that was your whole life?

“noona?” a softer voice called from behind.

you turned and saw jungwon standing there, already taller than you, his eyes wide and worried.

he stepped forward and wrapped his arms around you tightly. “it’s gonna be okay,” he said with that naive, youthful certainty. “you’re gonna be okay.”

you laughed through your tears, kissing his forehead. “you’re so tall now,” you whispered, trying to smile. “when did that happen?”

“started high school this month,” he said, proud. “i’m not a baby anymore.”

you ruffled his hair, your smile wobbly. “you’ll always be my baby brother.”

and for a fleeting second, the weight in your chest lifted.

when the sobs finally slowed, and your mother’s arms loosened just enough for you to breathe again, she gently cupped your face and kissed your forehead.

“go lie down, honey. you must be exhausted,” she said softly, brushing your hair back like she used to when you were little. “your room is ready.”

you nodded, barely able to answer. your eyes were sore, your body heavy, and your heart… your heart felt frayed in ways you hadn’t even begun to understand.

you walked down the familiar hallway, feet padding against the cool tiles. everything looked smaller now—narrower, dimmer. like the house had aged with you, quietly, patiently waiting for you to come home.

you stopped in front of your old bedroom door.

it had been over seven years. seven years since you last turned that doorknob. seven years since you packed all your things and left with beomgyu, full of hope, your heart bursting with love and plans and dreams. you hesitated for a moment, almost afraid of what you’d find inside.

but when you opened the door, it felt like stepping into a memory.

everything was exactly as you’d left it.

the pale blue curtains fluttered gently in the breeze. your bed was neatly made with the same faded sheets you used in high school—soft cotton, patterned with tiny constellations. your desk sat untouched beneath the window, the surface bare except for an old lamp and a few dust-free trinkets. the shelves were empty. the repisas above your bed were clean, but void of the books and little figurines you once adored.

the air smelled faintly of lavender, of clean linen and something sweetly nostalgic. the sunlight filtered in, casting quiet shadows on the floor, painting soft lines across the blank surfaces.

you stepped inside slowly, your hand brushing against the smooth edge of the wooden desk. your fingers trembled. your chest felt hollow.

“i always kept it clean,” your mother said from behind you, her voice low and warm. “just in case you ever needed it again.”

you turned to look at her, eyes stinging. she smiled gently and stepped forward, fixing a corner of the bedsheet like it had even needed fixing. “didn’t have the heart to change it. not even the curtains.”

your throat tightened.

“everything’s gone,” you whispered, walking over to the empty shelves. “it used to be full.”

“you took your life with you,” she replied, resting a hand on your back. “as it should be.”

you nodded, staring at the barren walls that had once held photos, posters, love notes, your high school class schedule… now they were just walls.

“you can put things back, if you want,” she added. “or leave them like this. it’s yours, however you need it.”

you didn’t answer right away. you walked over to your bed and sat down slowly, the mattress creaking softly beneath you. it felt both familiar and foreign—like hugging an old friend you hadn’t seen in years.

“i don’t even know what i need right now,” you said finally, staring at the floor.

your mom leaned down, kissed the top of your head. “then don’t decide anything tonight.”

she left you there in the silence, in that sacred, untouched space that had once been your refuge from the world. and now, again, it was.

you lay down slowly, curling up on your side, the same way you used to after long school days when the world felt too loud. the tears came again—but not violently this time. they came slow. quiet. like raindrops on a forgotten window.

twelve years.

you were sixteen when you met beomgyu. seventeen when you told him you wanted forever. twenty when you moved in together. twenty-three when you married him. and now… now you were twenty-eight and sleeping in your childhood bed, wondering how everything that once felt like fate had slipped between your fingers like sand.

you stared at the ceiling, your fingers curled into the pillow.

somewhere, back in the apartment you shared, beomgyu was probably lying awake too. maybe staring at your side of the bed. maybe not. maybe already letting you go.

but you weren’t ready to let go.

once your breathing returned to something steady and the tightness in your throat dulled into a quiet ache, you wiped your face with the back of your hand. the room still smelled like childhood, like comfort, but now it carried a tinge of sorrow too. you stood up from the bed, deciding to distract yourself, to at least put away the few things you’d brought with you.

you started with the closet.

opening it felt strange—like opening a door to the past, like stepping into something that had once been yours but had lived without you for years. the hangers were empty, the shelves dusted and bare. but down at the bottom, tucked into the corner where the light didn’t quite reach, you saw them.

boxes.

you blinked, frowning. boxes?

and then you remembered.

you had left them there.

they didn’t fit in the moving truck. there hadn’t been space, and you’d told yourself you’d come back for them later. you never did.

the curiosity itched at you instantly, like the gentle tug of memory pulling at your sleeve. what had you packed away? what pieces of yourself had you abandoned without meaning to?

you pulled one box out and placed it on the bed.

when you lifted the lid, the scent of old paper, dried ink, and something faintly sweet hit you. your breath caught in your throat.

letters.

photographs.

little gifts.

neatly stacked, carefully organized. like a timeline of your love. from the very first spark to the last flame before the plunge into adulthood.

you sat down, your knees weak, heart already pounding.

the first letter on top was creased and slightly yellowed at the edges. your name was written in beomgyu’s handwriting, back when it was still a little uneven, back when he still dotted his i’s with tiny hearts just to make you blush.

“i don’t know if you’ll ever like me back, but i think i like you too much not to say something. you smile like you invented the sun and every time you laugh i forget how to breathe. if you ever give me a chance, i swear i’ll make you the happiest girl in the whole damn school. maybe even the planet.”

you exhaled shakily, fingers trembling as you folded it back up.

you moved on to the next one. his confession letter, written after your first date at the old arcade in town.

“i still can’t believe you said yes. i haven’t stopped smiling since saturday. i keep thinking about how cold your hands were and how you still let me hold them anyway. i think you’re magic. like… like maybe you’re not even real. i don’t know. i’m just really, really lucky.”

another tear slipped down your cheek.

beneath the letters were bundles of polaroids tied with ribbon. you untied one, your lips parting as you flipped through them.

you and beomgyu holding ice creams, faces smeared with strawberry and chocolate.

a blurry one of him carrying you on his back through the rain.

another one from your first trip to seoul, sitting on the subway, both of you looking exhausted but so in love.

and then… your first anniversary. there you were, cheek to cheek, grinning at the camera, and between you stood jungwon, five years old, flashing a crooked peace sign like he was the star of the photo. he had two front teeth missing and a bowl cut that you’d teased him about for months.

you let out a choked laugh, the sound watery and fragile.

next was a box of keepsakes—movie tickets, pressed flowers, the wrapper from your first shared chocolate bar. even the doodles he used to leave in your notebooks during boring lectures.

“stay awake, sleepyhead <3 you promised me lunch after class!!”

“reminder: i love you more than ramen. and that’s saying a lot.”

your hands reached for one more envelope—thicker than the rest. inside were pages and pages written in his voice. you recognized the style immediately.

it was the letter he gave you on your 100 days.

“people say 100 days isn’t much. but for me, it’s been everything. 100 days of waking up excited. 100 days of knowing i’m yours. 100 days of learning your laugh and the way your eyes crinkle when you’re really happy. i don’t ever want to stop counting. 200 days. 500. 1,000. i want all of them, with you.”

you pressed the paper to your lips.

you couldn’t remember the last time he wrote you something. couldn’t remember the last time you kissed without it feeling like a routine. without checking the clock. without your mind already racing toward work, bills, dinner.

you leaned back slowly, curling up on your bed with the open box beside you, the letters scattered across your chest like armor and daggers at the same time.

he used to write you poetry on napkins.

he used to hold your hand under the table at family dinners.

he used to tell you that even on his worst days, coming home to you made him believe the world wasn’t so bad.

when had it all changed?

when did the love become background noise? when did you both stop fighting for each other?

you closed your eyes, the ache in your chest sharper now—because this love had been real. it had been raw and loud and beautiful. and now it was bruised and quiet and bleeding out slowly between your fingers.

you fell asleep without meaning to.

the tears never really stopped, they just slowed, like rain running out of strength. your arms curled around the open letters, clutching them tightly against your chest as if they'd vanish if you let go. the box of memories lay beside you, its contents half-spilled across the bed. it still smelled like him—like ink, cologne, and something warm you couldn’t name.

you didn’t remember when your eyelids gave in.

but suddenly… you were somewhere else.

you blinked against a brightness that felt unreal.

the sky above you was the kind of blue that looked painted, too soft and pure to exist in real life. you were lying on something hard—cement? gravel? no, the warm tiles of a school courtyard. familiar. strange.

the hum of voices buzzed in the distance.

you sat up slowly.

your limbs felt light, your body foreign. when you looked down, your heart lurched violently in your chest. you were wearing your old high school uniform—navy skirt, white blouse with the school crest stitched at the corner. your nails were painted a glossy burgundy, long and delicate like you never wore them now. your hair brushed past your waist.

what the hell...?

you stood, dizzy.

your eyes scanned the courtyard. same fountain, same benches, the same vending machine that used to swallow coins and never return drinks. everything was how you remembered it, but not how it should be.

and then—

there he was.

beomgyu.

but not your husband.

no.

this was the seventeen-year-old version of him. he was running across the courtyard, brows furrowed with something urgent, panic written all over his face. his backpack bounced on his back, shirt untucked, tie crooked—exactly how he used to wear it when he didn’t care about dress code.

you took a step toward him.

“beomgyu—”

but nothing came out.

your voice caught in your throat like a breath that never formed. you tried again, louder, desperate.

silence.

you looked down at yourself, touched your lips, tried to scream—but no sound, no reaction, like your existence here didn’t register.

and he didn’t look at you.

he ran right past you.

your stomach dropped.

you spun around, confused, breath shaky.

was that...?

a crowd was gathering. a cluster of students forming a circle near the gymnasium doors, their murmurs rising in pitch. you moved toward them, heart thudding like a warning, dread curling in your stomach. you pushed past ghost-like silhouettes, none of them noticing you.

and then you saw.

him.

beomgyu pushed through the crowd, dropped to his knees without hesitation.

and beside him—

on the ground—

was you.

you.

the past you. passed out. lips pale, skin gleaming with sweat, the buttons of your blouse undone at the top as someone had tried to help you breathe. your limbs sprawled awkwardly on the warm tile, your chest rising faintly with shallow breaths.

he was panicking.

his hands cupped your face with such care, trembling as he brushed your hair from your forehead.

“someone call the nurse!” he shouted. “she’s burning up—fuck, where’s her water bottle?”

his voice cracked.

you could feel his fear from here. how tightly he held you. how his fingers gripped yours even unconscious.

and then—memory crashed into you like a wave.

that day.

that impossibly hot, breathless day.

you had collapsed during p.e., heat exhaustion hitting harder than you expected. you didn’t even know beomgyu back then. maybe you'd seen him in a few classes, heard the way he always made everyone laugh. but you never talked. you didn’t think he even knew your name.

but when your body gave up, it was him.

he was the first one to move. the one who didn’t wait. the one who lifted you in his arms like you weighed nothing, running all the way to the infirmary with you whispering nonsense against his collar.

he didn’t leave your side that day.

he stayed.

until your eyes opened again.

and he smiled like he’d just seen the sun rise after a storm.

you remembered your friends teasing you after.

“your knight in wrinkled uniform.”

“your hero with pretty smile.”

and from then on, he never left your orbit.

but now—why were you seeing this?

why were you outside of it, watching like a stranger?

you tried to move closer, but your feet felt heavy, stuck.

everything blurred, like fog on glass.

and in a blink, the courtyard faded.

you were standing in the hallway now. the infirmary door cracked open. you could hear soft voices inside.

you peeked.

and there he was again—beomgyu, sitting beside your unconscious self, head in his hands. he looked young, terrified, still catching his breath.

“you scared me,” he whispered.

“please don’t do that again.”

and then he looked up, straight at where you were standing.

your heart stopped.

his eyes met yours.

but… that wasn’t possible. right?

his gaze didn’t drift away. he stared, like he saw you.

like he was looking through time.

“is it really you?” he said softly.

and before you could move—before you could answer—

everything went dark.

the dream shattered into blackness.

and you gasped awake in your old bed, the letters still clutched in your arms, your chest heaving.

your cheeks were damp. your hands were shaking. and somewhere, deep in your bones, the feeling of that day still lingered.

he had saved you back then.

you didn’t know what this dream meant. but one thing was clear.

something inside you had shifted.

the love you thought was lost wasn’t gone.

it was buried.

you woke up with a dry throat and a strange weight in your chest—one of those mornings where your body feels like it came back from somewhere far, far away. the room looked familiar, your old bedroom at your mother’s house, but you felt like a stranger inside it.

there was something off. you couldn’t tell if it had all been a dream or something more. the feeling clung to your skin like humidity. the memory of the uniform, the sun on your face, beomgyu kneeling beside your crumpled body on the schoolyard… it wasn’t fading. If anything, it felt sharper now. too vivid.

you went downstairs, still in your sleep shirt, walking like someone who didn’t fully trust the floor. your mom was already at the stove, flipping something in a pan. she turned as she heard you step into the kitchen, a soft frown on her face.

"morning, honey. you look like you’ve seen a ghost," she said with a half-smile, handing you your favorite mug, the one with the chipped handle.

you held it between your fingers like it might slip.

"i didn’t sleep well. that’s all," you muttered. "weird dreams."

you didn’t elaborate. what could you say? that you had felt him again? that you’d heard his voice in your bones?

the workday dragged by in a blur of emails, and pretending to care about things you couldn’t name. everything felt like a shell. like a play. you smiled and nodded, typed “best regards” with fingers that wanted to tremble.

by the time you returned to your mother’s house, the sun was low and warm, and the kitchen smelled like soy sauce and rice. you joined her, needing something to do with your hands, with your mind.

"i found some boxes in my old room," you said as you stirred the soup. "stuff i never took with me."

"yeah, i saw them. i never opened them," she replied. "didn’t know what they had… and i guess i didn’t want to look."

you both fell quiet after that. until the doorbell rang, and jungwon came in, cheerful as ever, making the house feel a little less haunted. the dinner was full of small talk, laughter that didn’t quite reach your chest—but it helped. It let you forget, for a while.

but when night came… the fear returned.

you lay in bed, eyes wide, body tense. you were scared—not of dreaming, but of remembering. of feeling everything again and not knowing what it meant.

eventually, sleep took you like a wave crashing over your head.

and again—you opened your eyes.

you were sitting on a wooden bench. the air was soft and golden. it was late, nearing sunset. the sky was lilac, dotted with floating lanterns. somewhere nearby, people were laughing, music echoed faintly in the distance. you were wearing a pink hanbok, your hair braided and pinned up in a way you hadn’t worn it in years.

your feet… ached.

you looked down and saw them—bare, red, sore. small blisters on your heels.

this day.

that day.

your first date with beomgyu. chuseok. the festival with the food stalls and the lanterns, the one where your shoes betrayed you halfway through the evening.

you turned your head just as his voice wrapped around you.

"y/n! there you are."

you looked up and saw him—young, flushed from running, holding two corn dogs, a plastic bag, and two drinks crushed between his fingers. he looked breathless and beautiful, like he always had.

"sorry, i took forever. there were too many people, and finding these was a nightmare," he said, smiling as he approached.

he handed you the corn dogs and set the drinks down beside you on the bench. then, without asking, he knelt in front of you.

you could barely breathe.

from his pocket, he pulled out a little box of band-aids.

"no one was selling these inside, so i had to go out to find a pharmacy. you should’ve told me your feet were killing you."

his voice was soft, a little scolding, a lot loving.

with gentle hands, he cradled your foot, cleaning it with a tissue from his bag before carefully applying the band-aid to the angry skin. the sensation made your breath hitch. he was so close. so warm.

"you should’ve said something," he murmured.

and before you could stop yourself, before you even thought to speak, you heard your own voice say:

"but i wanted to be with you."

you froze.

not because it was untrue—but because those were the exact words you had said back then. not now. then.

beomgyu blinked. he looked at you like you had just stabbed him sweetly in the chest.

he adjusted the cheap plastic sandals he’d bought for you, gently securing them around your sore feet. then he stood, slowly, standing in front of you with a look that was shy and full of something deeper.

he reached out, brushing a strand of hair from your face, his fingertips grazing your skin like a whisper.

"i liked you before this," he said, his voice low, trembling. "but that night… i knew i couldn’t let you go."

your chest clenched. you swallowed hard, eyes already burning.

he leaned in.

so close, so slow, like gravity itself was pulling you toward him.

you closed your eyes.

his breath met yours. you tilted your head, lips parting.

and just—just as his lips were about to touch yours—

you woke up.

gasping.

heart racing like a runaway train. sheets tangled around your legs, skin hot, mouth dry.

but the scent of grilled corn dogs and candy still lingered.

the feel of his hands on your skin hadn’t left.

and in the silence of your old room, as you clutched your chest and tried to breathe, you knew it:

these weren’t dreams.

not just dreams.

they were memories.

and something—someone—was reaching out from the past.

the dream fades, slow and reluctant, like a fog lifting from a lake at dawn. you wake up still tangled in the remnants of it—your breath uneven, skin warm where you swore his lips had touched it. you stay still for a while, buried in the sheets that no longer smell like him, eyes fixed on the ceiling that’s slowly turning gold with the rising sun. your heart aches in that dull, pulsing way it always does now, as if it knows it’s missing something crucial but can’t quite remember what. you reach for your phone instinctively, fingers trembling just a little as you check your notifications. nothing. no messages. no missed calls. no beomgyu.

you shouldn’t be surprised. it’s been days. still, the emptiness stings in a new way every morning. it plants itself in your throat and swells throughout your chest as you force yourself out of bed. you go through the motions—brush your teeth, wash your face, stare at your own tired reflection and try not to ask why you look so hollow. you throw on the same sweater you’ve worn all week, the one that used to be his, and head out the door into a world that keeps spinning, oblivious to your slow unraveling.

the office is a blur of white light and cold coffee. your coworkers smile and chatter, and you nod when expected, laugh when prompted, answer emails like you haven’t been dying a little more each day. you check your phone again and again between tasks, hoping for a miracle notification, a simple “hey” that might put your heart back together. it never comes. during lunch, you barely touch your food, appetite lost to a gnawing ache in your stomach that no amount of rice or tea can soothe. when the day finally ends, you don’t go home. you wander instead, drifting through the streets like a ghost, ending up in front of the tiny bookstore he used to take you to. you step inside, hoping for comfort in old pages and the smell of ink.

you flip through poetry books, and a line jumps out at you: “i do not know what i was made for, but when you cried into my mouth, i remembered.” it hits something deep, something raw. you close the book and leave without buying anything.

your mom is asleep when you get home. you shower slowly, let the water wash over your face like it could cleanse the sadness out of you. it doesn’t. you fall into bed fully clothed, the blankets too heavy and the air too quiet. sleep takes you quickly, dragging you back under, where your heart can remember what your mind tries so hard to forget.

in the dream, you’re on the school rooftop, the wind tossing your hair like in some cheesy drama. you’re standing next to beomgyu, his presence warm and familiar beside you. the sky above is overcast, a storm on the verge of breaking. a group of students lingers nearby, and one girl—minhee, her voice sharp as broken glass—smirks as she speaks just loud enough for you to hear.

“he’s going to leave you,” she says with venomous confidence. “he told me he liked me. he just doesn’t know how to break up with you yet.”

your heart stops. your throat tightens. you turn to beomgyu, eyes searching his face for denial, for reassurance, for anything to counter the horror clawing at your chest. he frowns deeply, jaw tightening as he looks at minhee with disgust.

“she’s lying,” he says, stepping between you and the venom she left behind. “she’s been trying to get in between us for weeks. i told her to stop. she just wants attention.”

you want to believe him. god, you do. but the damage is already done. your eyes well with tears you can’t control, your vision blurs, and the ache in your chest sharpens.

“i just… i don’t want to lose you,” you whisper, your voice cracking like fragile glass. “even the thought of it hurts.”

his face softens instantly. he cups your cheeks in both hands, thumbs brushing away tears as fast as they fall, like he’s trying to undo the pain with just his touch.

“you won’t lose me,” he says quietly, urgently. “i’m not going anywhere. you’re the only one i look at. the only one i want. the only one i love.”

he kisses your forehead, your nose, your cheeks—lips gentle as feathers—before finally kissing your lips with a soft, lingering tenderness that makes your knees tremble. as he kisses you, more tears come, falling silently down your face, not from doubt anymore, but from overwhelming relief. he kisses each tear, one by one, whispering promises against your skin like prayers.

you wake up with your pillow soaked. the tears haven’t stopped. your chest rises and falls too fast, the sobs sharp and painful, tearing through your throat as your hands clutch the sheets. it wasn’t real. it was just a dream. but your body doesn’t know that. your heart doesn’t know that. you cry harder than you have in weeks, and for once, you let yourself. because it felt real. because you miss him. because he hasn’t written to you. because he promised he wouldn’t leave, and now he’s gone.

you curl into a ball under the blankets, breath catching in your throat, willing yourself to fall asleep again, hoping you’ll see him there—just for a little while longer.

the next morning is no kinder. your eyes are swollen, your limbs heavy, your spirit dulled. you check your phone. still nothing. the silence is louder than any goodbye.

your routine drags on—shower, coffee, the same lifeless office, the same forced smiles. your coworkers laugh at something, and it grates on your nerves. how can they laugh when your world is crumbling? you eat a single apple for lunch and throw away the rest. you scroll through old messages, rereading the way he used to say “good morning” like it meant something sacred. you ache.

that night, you fall asleep with the phone clutched in your hand.

and again, you dream.

this time, you’re in his room. the lamp is dim, casting a golden glow over his features. he’s watching you like you’re made of galaxies, and you’re breathing fast, heart pounding in your throat. you remember this night. you remember every second.

you’d told him you were ready. to be his. completely. and he asked, with trembling hands and wide eyes, “are you sure?”

you nodded. you remember the way his lips parted, how his hands shook as they held your waist. how he touched you like you were something sacred.

it wasn’t perfect. it was real. clumsy giggles, soft gasps, the smell of his shampoo, the heat of his breath, the way he whispered your name like it was his salvation.

when it was over, he pulled you against his chest, kissing your forehead, your temple, your shoulder.

“i love you,” he said, voice thick with emotion. “i didn’t know love could feel like this.”

you said it back. again. and again.

you wake up gasping, a sob bursting from your throat like a wave. tears stream down your cheeks, soaking your skin, your pillow, your soul. you bury your face in the sheets, fists clenched in pain. it’s too much. too vivid. too real.

you remember how it felt.

you remember everything.

and now you’re alone.

and he still hasn’t written.

you dream again. every night now. your mind keeps dragging you back, stitching memories into something soft and cruel. this time it’s your first anniversary. it had rained all day, the kind of soft, moody rain that made the world feel quieter. you’d both been too broke to plan anything extravagant, so he cooked for you in that tiny kitchen with the crooked lightbulb that flickered every time someone opened the fridge. he was wearing an apron that didn’t fit him, sleeves rolled up, hair messy, tongue poking out the corner of his mouth in concentration as he tried not to burn the rice.

you’d sat at the counter, watching him like he was magic. he handed you a plate with a bashful grin, eyes glinting as he said, “chef gyu at your service.” you’d laughed until you cried, and then he kissed you with soy sauce on his lips and the sound of the rain tapping against the windows. later that night, you danced barefoot in the living room, holding onto each other like you were afraid the moment would slip away. you’d fallen asleep tangled on the couch, the half-eaten cake still on the table.

another night, another dream—this one hazier. your first time. not the night it finally happened, but all the nights it didn’t. the failed attempts, the soft gasps, the nervous hands, the whispered “it’s okay”s. neither of you knew what you were doing. you were clumsy and young and a little scared. but it never felt wrong. it felt like… learning. like loving someone deeply even in the awkward, imperfect moments. you remember one night, curled up in bed after another failed attempt, how he kissed your shoulder and whispered, “we don’t have to rush. i just like being with you.”

you held onto those words like a lifeline. even now. even when everything else is falling apart.

you wake up in tears again, the kind that come from too much remembering. it’s exhausting—this longing, this ache that stretches through your chest like a second heartbeat. you stare at the ceiling and tell yourself: you have to forget him. you have to move on. it’s over.

you pull up the divorce email thread. it’s half-filled, half-hearted. your replies are short. factual. robotic. there’s no signature at the end. just your name, plain and cold.

and then your phone buzzes.

his name flashes on the screen. beomgyu calling.

your heart stops. your fingers hover over the screen like they’re made of glass. for a second, you consider not answering. but something in you still reaches for him, even now.

you press accept.

“hello?”

his voice is quiet. rough. like he hadn’t used it all day.

“hey. uh…” there’s a pause. “i found a lawyer. a good one. she said she can help with the case. make it simple for both of us.”

you swallow hard, forcing air through your lungs.

“okay.”

“i thought…” he clears his throat. “maybe we could meet? after your shift. during my lunch break. there’s that restaurant near your office. the one with the bulgogi you like.”

your voice doesn’t tremble when you answer. you don’t know how. maybe you’ve grown numb.

“sure. that’s fine.”

“okay.” another pause. “see you then.”

he hangs up before you can say anything else. you sit in silence, the echo of his voice still clinging to the walls.

when you see him, it’s like being sucker-punched. he looks tired. thinner. the bags under his eyes speak volumes. he doesn’t smile when he sees you. doesn’t even fake it. he just holds the door open for you, silent and awkward.

you sit across from each other at a corner table. the waitress brings water. neither of you touches it.

he opens his folder and places a few documents on the table.

“she says we don’t have to go to court. we can file separately and sign within the next few weeks. no need to argue over property. it’s all split already. she gave me a list of steps.”

he hands you a copy. you don’t take it.

“beomgyu.”

his hands still.

“do you really want this?”

his eyes flicker to yours. and in them, you see it—everything. the love. the guilt. the fear.

he doesn’t speak for a long time. when he finally does, his voice is barely a whisper.

“i don’t know what i want anymore. i just know we’re not… us. not like we used to be.”

you nod slowly. your throat is tight, your heart thundering so loud it drowns out the sound of the restaurant.

“we used to be everything.”

he presses his lips together.

“and now we hurt each other more than we help.”

your eyes sting. you blink fast.

“so that’s it?”

he looks down at his hands.

“i think it’s better this way. for both of us.”

“but it doesn’t feel better.”

“no,” he says, almost breaking, “it fucking doesn’t.”

you sit there, surrounded by the smell of grilled meat and the quiet hum of people living lives you’re no longer sure how to live.

you reach for the water. take a small sip. it doesn’t help.

he folds the papers back into the folder. pushes it toward you.

“just think about it.”

you stare at the folder like it’s a bomb.

“yeah,” you whisper. “okay.”

the phone rings at 2:17 a.m.

you’re not asleep. you haven’t been for nights now. the sheets are tangled around your legs, your eyes raw from crying, and your chest feels like someone’s been sitting on it for hours. when you see his name on the screen, your breath catches in your throat. your thumb hovers above the green button, shaking. you hesitate for one, two, three seconds… and then you press it.

you don’t speak. neither does he. at first, it’s just the sound of the line open between you, the hum of silence, and then…

his voice breaks.

“i’m sorry.”

it’s quiet. hoarse. like he’s been crying long before this call. you sit up slowly, holding the phone to your ear like it might slip from your fingers.

“i shouldn’t be calling you but—fuck, i can’t sleep. i can’t breathe without thinking about you.”

you say his name, just a whisper. it leaves your lips like a prayer.

“beomgyu...”

and then he lets out a shaky breath, like he’s been waiting to hear your voice to fall apart completely.

“i miss you. i miss you so much, it’s driving me insane. every night i close my eyes and it’s you. you laughing, you calling my name, you dancing in the living room in that oversized sweater... everything reminds me of you.”

your bottom lip quivers, and you press the back of your hand to your mouth to muffle the sob that’s already building.

“i dream about us,” he whispers. “not just once. every single night. our first anniversary, your hands in mine... the way you looked at me when we promised we’d never give up on each other. i see it all. i wake up and i swear i can smell your shampoo on my pillow. but it’s not real. it’s never real.”

his breath hitches again, and now you can hear the tears in his voice, full and wet and unrestrained.

“i don’t know how to do this,” he says, breaking down mid-sentence. “i thought maybe if we separated, if we took space, it would get easier. that maybe this was what we needed. but i was wrong. it’s not easier. it’s fucking unbearable.”

you’re crying now. soft at first, but growing louder with every word that spills from him like a confession he’s been dying to make.

“i don’t want to influence your decision. if you want the divorce, if this is what you really want, i’ll sign everything. i’ll do whatever it takes to not make this harder for you.”

he goes silent for a moment, like it’s physically painful for him to say the next words.

“but i need you to know… i haven’t stopped loving you. not even for a second. you’ve always been it for me. even when we fought. even when we hurt each other. you are—”

his voice cracks and he breathes out your name like it’s breaking him.

“you are the love of my life.”

and something inside you shatters.

you clutch the phone tighter, your body folding in on itself from the weight of everything he’s saying. from the truth you’ve been trying to run away from.

“i still see you in everything,” he continues, voice trembling. “i see you in the places we used to go, in the goddamn coffee i make in the morning, in the way i can’t fall asleep without your breathing next to mine. this divorce... it’s not fixing anything. it’s just making me more aware of how much i need you. how much i still want you.”

you can’t hold it back anymore.

“beomgyu, please...”

you sob into the phone, your whole body shaking. he goes quiet, waiting. and then you hear it—his soft cry on the other side. broken. desperate. raw.

“i love you,” he says again, this time so tender it makes your heart convulse. “i love you so much. too much. and if i could go back and fix everything, i would. but if this is what you truly want… i’ll respect it.”

but even as he says the words, neither of you believes them. not really.

because the love is still there.

burning. aching. undying.

and in that moment, in the dark silence that follows, you both realize—

letting go might be harder than staying.

he goes quiet after saying he still loves you. the kind of silence that vibrates with weight. and just when you think the call might end, he exhales like something inside him snaps.

“i’m coming to see you.”

your heart stops.

“what?”

“i’m coming to see you. right now.”

you sit up, your pulse thundering. “beomgyu, no. it’s late, and you’re far—”

“i don’t care.” his voice is raw, breathless. “i don’t care how far it is. i just… i need to see you. even if it’s just once. even if you close the door in my face. i need to see you one last time before i lose my fucking mind.”

your throat tightens. the tears you’d barely managed to hold back spill freely now.

“beomgyu…”

“please,” he begs softly, “please don’t hang up.”

you shake your head, clutching the phone to your ear like it's the only thing anchoring you.

“i’m not going to hang up.”

and for a long moment, neither of you speaks. there’s only the sound of your shared breathing, uneven and emotional. your heart feels like it’s been torn wide open, and suddenly, words pour out before you can stop them.

“i’ve been dreaming about you too,” you whisper. “every night. i remember everything. our first time holding hands, the way you cried when you gave me your first letter, our anniversary… even the night we didn’t know what we were doing, but it didn’t matter because we loved each other so much it made up for everything. i wake up missing you so bad it hurts.”

you cover your mouth with your hand, sobbing softly.

“i thought i needed space to think clearly, but all i’ve done is remember every reason i fell in love with you. and it’s still there, beomgyu. it’s all still there. i can’t let you go. i don’t want to.”

there’s a silence so thick it feels like the world holds its breath. then—

“don’t say that unless you mean it,” he chokes out. “because i’ll be there in thirty minutes. i swear to god, baby, i’ll run red lights. i’ll come barefoot if i have to.”

and you whisper, “i mean it. come home.”

you don’t even change clothes. you wait by the door, heart in your throat, wiping your tears only for them to fall again. the longest thirty minutes of your life. your fingers twist the edge of your shirt. your feet tap nervously against the floor. your thoughts are a whirlwind. and then—

a knock.

you don’t even check the peephole. your body moves on instinct. you unlock the door and pull it open—

and there he is.

beomgyu, standing in the hallway, drenched in moonlight and grief and rain that must’ve started on the way. his hair’s a mess, sticking up like he ran both hands through it a hundred times. his shirt’s wrinkled, his jacket barely thrown on, shoes untied, cheeks streaked with tears. his eyes—god, his eyes—are swollen and red and filled with a kind of devastation you’ve never seen on him.

he opens his mouth to say something, but no sound comes out.

instead, he stumbles forward.

his arms wrap around you like he’s afraid you’ll vanish. he buries his face into your shoulder, and you feel his body tremble as the first sob rips through him.

“you’re here,” you whisper, voice broken.

he clutches you tighter.

“i couldn’t stay away.”

you press your face into his neck, breathing him in, letting the heat of him soak through your skin.

“i missed you,” he cries into your hair. “i missed you so fucking much, i didn’t know how to survive it.”

you both collapse to your knees just inside the doorway, tangled in each other, crying, holding, clinging.

and in the silence of your shared heartbreak, something begins to heal.

because he came.

because you still love him.

because love like this doesn't die.

you don’t know how long you stay there, on your knees in the entryway, holding each other like lifelines. time folds in on itself. the only thing real is the weight of his arms around you, the way he breathes your name into your skin like a prayer, and the way your hands tremble as they run through his damp hair.

then, a light flicks on down the hall. footsteps shuffle. your heart skips.

your mom appears, sleepy-eyed and wrapped in a soft robe, confusion etched into her face—until she sees you both.

her expression softens instantly.

“beomgyu,” she says quietly, blinking at the sight of him. “you’re here.”

he lifts his head from your shoulder, cheeks wet, lips trembling. “hi, mrs. yang.”

your mom’s eyes move between the two of you, piecing it all together. the tears. the way you hold each other. the way neither of you has moved from the doorway like you were afraid letting go might make it all disappear again.

she steps closer, places a gentle hand on your back.

“come inside. talk. say everything you’ve been holding in before it’s too late. don’t let the routine, or the silence, or the fear kill the love you built. you two have something worth fighting for.”

and just like that, she leaves you alone again, giving you the space your hearts desperately need.

you help him up, hands never leaving his. and you sit together on the old couch in the living room—the one that witnessed countless lazy sunday mornings, shared meals, stolen kisses, fights, makeups, and all the little moments that built your marriage.

you sit close, your knees touching. your fingers linked like you’re relearning each other.

“i don’t even know where to start,” you whisper.

“then start here,” he says, cupping your face with one trembling hand. “i love you. i never stopped. not for a second.”

you cry again, soft and open, and he catches your tears with his lips.

“i thought we were done,” you murmur, voice cracking. “i thought the love ran out.”

“we just got lost,” he says. “too much noise. too much pretending we were okay. i didn’t know how to ask for more. i didn’t know how to tell you i missed you even when you were lying right beside me.”

you lean into him, forehead pressed against his.

“we let it all pile up.”

he nods, breath shaky. “but i don’t want to give up. i want to work on it. every single day. i’ll learn how to love you better. i’ll talk more. i’ll listen harder. just… let me try again.”

you answer him with a kiss. slow. trembling. sweet and deep like home.

and when it grows late—when your bodies are too exhausted from all the crying, the confessing, the ache—you take his hand again and lead him to your bedroom. the same one you once shared, where the mattress still holds the shape of your memories.

you crawl under the sheets together, like you never stopped belonging there. his arms wrap around your waist, your legs tangle with his, and his nose presses into your neck like he’s memorizing the scent of you all over again.

your hands explore his face, his shoulders, like tracing the edges of your favorite story.

he whispers, “is this real?”

you nod, pressing your lips to his.

“stay,” you whisper. “for tonight. and tomorrow. and as long as you want.”

he exhales the softest sound, a smile breaking through the pain.

“always.”

and that night, you sleep curled against each other. his fingers never stop moving—over your back, your cheek, your lips. your kisses never stop—on his forehead, his jaw, the corner of his mouth.

and just like that, two people who thought they were lost find each other again. not in grand gestures, but in small ones. in held hands. whispered apologies. quiet laughter between tears.

in love that refused to die.

after the long and emotional night at your parents’ house, you and beomgyu returned to your shared apartment—your home. it looked the same, smelled the same, every object still in place. but it felt different. lighter. as if the air had been scrubbed clean of silence and bitterness.

you unpacked slowly, side by side, laughing at the amount of socks he still had under the bed, and how your favorite mug had survived the weeks of absence.

you sat on the bed together that night and talked. about the little things—how many cups of coffee you’d had, what your coworker had said to you, how loud the subway had been.

you let your bodies melt into each other under the sheets, arms tangled, whispers between kisses, touching each other with the reverence of people who almost lost everything.

that night, you didn’t just make love. you healed. you forgave.

the next morning, you made breakfast together. you accidentally spilled flour on the counter, and he smeared some on your nose, laughing as you gasped. he kissed the flour off your skin before handing you the whisk.

you stood behind him, arms around his waist, swaying slightly to the soft music playing from the speaker as pancakes cooked. and when he turned around to feed you a bite, his smile was sunshine.

days passed, then weeks. and each one felt like a little piece of heaven earned.

you both kept your promise.

every night before sleeping, no matter how tired, you shared something from your day. sometimes it was a joke, sometimes a frustration. but it was always honest.

every morning, you made time to kiss goodbye—no rushed pecks, no distracted waves. real kisses. warm hugs.

during work hours, you sent each other messages—not clingy or constant, but enough.

"you got this today, baby." "thinking of you. breathe. you're doing amazing."

and you had dates again. little ones. ice cream runs. grocery shopping hand in hand. once, he surprised you with a dinner reservation at the place where you had your first anniversary. you wore the same dress. he wore the same nervous smile.

he listened more now. you did too. when he had a hard day, you held space for his words, even when they didn’t make sense. he did the same for you.

then came saturday.

you were curled up together on the couch, the soft hum of a movie filling the room. your legs rested over his, your head on his shoulder, his arm draped over you like it was the most natural thing in the world.

you were watching some quiet, artsy film about love and time. at one point, the couple on screen found out they were expecting a baby.

there was a quiet pause between you and beomgyu as the characters celebrated on screen.

his hand, which had been stroking your arm absentmindedly, suddenly stilled.

"i want that," he said softly, eyes still on the screen.

you turned slightly, your breath catching.

"what?"

he looked at you now, his voice steady but vulnerable.

"a family. with you." he swallowed, his hand reaching up to tuck your hair behind your ear.

"i want messy mornings and toys all over the living room. i want little feet running to our bed at midnight. i want to see you holding our child, laughing in the kitchen while i burn toast trying to help."

he laughed softly, but there was a crack in his voice, a shimmer in his eyes.

"i want everything with you. the chaos, the tiredness, the joy. i want to build that life with you, if... if you're ready."

you stared at him, your chest swelling so full it almost hurt.

"i do want it," you whispered. "i want it with you. only with you."

his lips met yours then, slow and deep, filled with silent promises. and as you lay there together, under the soft glow of the tv, you knew—this was the beginning of a new chapter.

you and beomgyu.

the home you rebuilt.

the love that refused to die.

and soon… a family born from it.

forever didn’t feel like a fantasy anymore.

it felt like the quiet beating of two hearts—pressed close, full of hope, writing a future one kiss at a time.

[starlinggirll]

ex husband!art dropping the boys off...

"be careful!" you yelp as samuel and mattew burst through the door, immediately tackling you into a hug. they kiss your cheeks and forehead, giggling as they fight for your attention.

"alright boys, hop off your mother for a second," his voice booms through the living room, making you flinch slightly. you cant help the smile that graces your lips. "its okay," you say while patting the back of the two boys. "go change, alright? i already made dinner." you hum, untangling yourself from the embrace of your sons.

"but mamaaaa we missed you!" they whine in unison, putting on their best manipulative pout. and while you almost melt, you recognize their tactics. "fine then, i guess you both wont mind your ipads getting taken away." you says nonchalantly, hands on your hips.

the boys immediately stop whining, shaking their head immediately and running to their rooms. art chuckles, eyes wandering down your body. "they're alot, arent they?" he says, arms sneakily wrapping around your waist from the back. he always found it so hot and endearing how you handled yourself with your sons, how it was so easy for you to just...mother,

you hate how you immediately melt into his arms, the back of your head resting against his broad chest. "yeah, they're a struggle." you mumbles, gazing up at him. he smiles and presses a soft kiss against your forehead.

he mumbles something you dont get. you're too busy realizing how this feels exactly how it felt when you were both together. when you both woke up at the same bed, same roof. you pull away instinctively, clearing your throat.

"thank you," you say, wiping the sweat off your hands with your dress. "ill see you next friday." she mumbles as she rubs her wrists, avoiding eye contact.

he sighs, rubbing his hand over his face. this happens every time he so much comes even close to getting you back into his arms. "come on dont do this," he mumbles, trying to keep his voice soft but a tinge of plea comes through. he wraps his hand around your arm, pulling you close to him.

he lifts your chin up with his knuckles, smiling softly at how nervous you look. "i missed you," he teases, his hand pressing flat against your lower back. "i-" you begin before getting interrupted. "i know you missed me too. dont lie."

this has been the closest you both have been since the divorce. despite the fleeting touch and looks this—this is the closest you been since a year of being separated. and you didnt realize how much you missed you. "yeah i missed you too." you whisper, pressing the meat of your cheek against his palm, relishing the feeling of his broad, calloused hand against the side of your face.

"so much." you continue, eyes fluttering as he holds in a sigh. he presses chin against the top of your head, fingers moving against your back, softly playing with the zipper of your dress. "let me stay for dinner, i know how much the kids miss family dinners." its cruel. the way he uses the boys against you for you to let him have more time with you. but you're too weak and you miss him so much that you dont hesitate from saying yes.

"okay, just for tonight." she mumbles, knowing that she just opened the door for many, many sleepless nights.

[starkwlkr]

i gave so many signs | mark webber

an: instead of mark announcing this retirement in early 2013, it’ll be announced at the end of the 2013 season

part 1 part 3 (sad ending)

2013

For the past week, Y/n and Mark had avoided each other. It was complicated since their place of work required them to see each other daily, but somehow they didn’t speak one word to each other.

After the race, while Y/n talked with Sergio Perez, a Red Bull strategist approached them interrupting their conversation.

“Mark needs to speak with you.” The strategist told Y/n.

“Tell him he can come tell that himself.” Y/n tried to continue her conversation, but the strategist insisted.

“He said it’s very important and to bring the papers . . .” The strategist wasn’t sure what ‘bring the papers’ meant but either way he delivered the message.

That was enough for Y/n to apologize to Sergio for cutting their conversation short and leaving to find Mark. Well, her first stop was to retrieve her bag then find Mark. How did he know about the papers? It was a mystery to her.

She knew Mark was in his drivers room so she made her way to him. She also knew he wasn’t in the best mood. One word. Multi-21. Y/n had witnessed it. It was heartbreaking to watch so she would occasionally look down at her wedding ring and play with it.

When she finally made it to Mark’s room, she lightly knocked. “Yeah?” She heard Mark’s soft voice call out. Y/n opened the door and saw a worn out Mark seated on the floor. Once he saw her, he sat up straight and cleared his throat. “I didn’t think you would come. . .”

“How do you know?” She got straight to the point.

Mark knew what she was talking about. Last month he had found divorce papers on the kitchen counter of their shared home. Y/n was out running errands and Mark had come back early from the Gym.

Mark didn’t look up right away. He exhaled slowly, dragging a hand down his face before finally meeting her gaze.

“I know you’re not happy,” he said, voice thick with exhaustion. “And I’m not either. So let me sign them, and we’ll each go our separate ways.”

Y/n tightened her grip on the papers. For a moment, she hesitated. She had come here fully expecting this outcome—after all, Mark had sent a strategist to find her, to tell her to meet him here and bring the papers. He was ready. He had made his choice.

A part of her still believed there was something to salvage. That maybe, despite all the fights, despite the growing distance, they could fix it. That this—whatever this was—wasn’t the end of them.

But then she thought about what Mark really wanted. What he had always wanted.

A family. A home. Something she wasn’t willing to give up everything for. She had worked too hard, fought too long to be where she was, to have a career that meant everything to her. And the truth was, she knew Mark wouldn’t be the one making the sacrifices.

So she swallowed the lump in her throat and took slow, measured steps toward him. Without another word, she held out the papers.

Mark took them, his hands steady as he flipped to the last page. The only sound in the room was the scratch of his pen against the paper as he signed his name.

And then it was done.

They sat in silence for a while, both staring at the floor, neither one sure what to say now that the inevitable had finally happened. It wasn’t an argument, it wasn’t explosive—it was just over.

Mark turned his head slightly, looking at her with something unreadable in his expression. “I hope you can be happy,” he murmured.

Y/N swallowed hard before nodding. “You too.” She hesitated, then added, “Maybe with someone who can give you what you want.”

Mark shook his head, a sad smile ghosting over his lips. “No,” he said softly. “That won’t happen. Because I want that with you.”

She looked at him then, really looked at him, and for a fleeting second, she thought about what could’ve been. But it was too late. It had been too late for a long time.

So she nodded, turned on her heel, and walked out the door.

2023

The air was thick with tension and anticipation, the sound of engines roaring down the straight filling the garage as McLaren’s pit crew stood ready. It was the first race of the season, and Oscar’s rookie year. Y/n felt the familiar pulse of adrenaline coursing through her veins, but beneath it, a layer of nerves simmered.

As she moved to step into the garage, someone else did at the same time. Their shoulders brushed, the unexpected contact making them both pause.

Mark.

For a second, neither of them spoke. They hadn’t spoken in years, hadn’t even acknowledged each other in the paddock despite the countless times they had been in the same space.

Y/n muttered a quiet, “Excuse me,” and stepped aside to let him through, treating him like he was just another person in the garage, just another face in the paddock.

Mark didn’t like it.

"Y/n," he said firmly.

She sighed, already exhausted by the conversation she knew was coming. “Mark, I have a job to do.”

“I know. And you’re brilliant at it. But I need to talk to you.”

She shook her head. “There’s nothing to talk about.”

“There is,” he insisted, lowering his voice. “I miss you.”

Her breath hitched slightly, but she didn’t let it show. “Mark…”

“I don’t care about kids anymore,” he cut in before she could protest. “That was years ago. We’re older now. Things are different.”

She inhaled sharply, stepping back. “You can’t say that.”

“Why not?” He tilted his head. “It’s the truth.”

“Because—” Her breath hitched, her vision blurring. “Because I ruined everything.”

Mark’s brows furrowed. “Y/n…”

She shook her head, her hands trembling. “I didn’t even think about it, Mark. I could’ve had both—I could’ve had a career and a family, but I didn’t even try. I was so fucking stubborn, so afraid of losing what I worked for that I didn’t see that I was losing you.”

Mark’s face softened, his expression pained as he reached for her. This time, she didn’t pull away. His hands settled gently on her arms, grounding her.

“I would’ve waited for you,” he murmured. “I would’ve figured it out with you. I didn’t want just a family, Y/n—I wanted you.”

A shaky breath escaped her lips as she shut her eyes, trying to hold herself together, but it was no use. The years of regret, of what-ifs, of missed chances—they crashed over her all at once.

Mark pulled her in without hesitation, his arms wrapping around her as she broke down against his chest.

“You didn’t ruin everything,” he whispered into her hair. “We’re here. Right now. We can still—” He swallowed hard. “We can still try.”

She clung to him, her mind racing, her heart aching. She wanted to believe him. She really did. But could she forgive herself? Could she let herself have this again?

She didn’t have an answer.

But for the first time in a decade, she let herself hold onto him, just for a little while longer.

Y/n didn’t know how long they stood there. Seconds? Minutes? It didn’t matter. Because for the first time in ten years, she wasn’t just existing alongside him—she was with him. And it hurt. God, it fucking hurt.

She pulled back, wiping her face with the sleeve of her McLaren jacket, her hands unsteady. “I should get back,” she muttered, her voice still thick with emotion.

Mark frowned, reluctant to let go, but he dropped his arms. “Y/n—”

“No,” she said, shaking her head. “This—whatever this is—this conversation shouldn’t be happening.”

His jaw tightened. “Why not?”

Y/n’s breath was unsteady, her chest rising and falling as she struggled to get a grip on herself. She needed to leave before she said something she couldn’t take back.

But Mark wasn’t letting her go that easily.

“Why do you do this?” he demanded, stepping closer. “Why do you push me away and then act like it hurts you just as much?”

Before she could think—before she could stop herself—her hands shot up, grabbing his face, and she kissed him. It wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t sweet. It was desperate and angry, all clashing teeth and bottled-up regret.

For a moment, Mark didn’t react, frozen in shock. And then he did, his hands moving to her waist, pulling her closer like he was afraid she’d slip through his fingers again.

And then reality hit.

Y/N pulled back, her lips tingling, her mind reeling.

“Oh, fuck,” she whispered, eyes wide.

Mark barely had time to process before her palm connected with his cheek in a sharp, stinging slap.

“What the fuck?” He staggered back, touching his face in disbelief.

She was just as stunned as him, her hand trembling. “I—I didn’t mean to—”

His nostrils flared, his frustration bubbling over. “I don’t understand you, woman!”

“Neither do I!” she shot back, throwing her hands in the air.

They stood there, breathing heavily, both looking like they wanted to strangle each other and kiss again all at once.

And that’s when Oscar appeared at the entrance of the garage. The poor rookie froze, wide-eyed, like a kid who had just walked in on his parents fighting. He looked at Mark. Then Y/n Then back at Mark.

Neither of them acknowledged him.

Oscar awkwardly cleared his throat. Nothing.

Alright. Cool. He’d just . . . pass through.

With the stiffest posture known to man, Oscar walked between them, silently making his way to his car, pretending he was not in the middle of some extremely personal, possibly violent lover’s quarrel.

The moment he was gone, Mark threw his hands up. “See?! Even Oscar thinks we’re fucking insane!”

Y/N groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose. “I hate you.”

“No, you don’t!”

“Yes, I do!”

“You kissed me!” Mark accused, pointing at her.

“And then I slapped you!”

“What kind of insane logic—”

“I panicked!”

Mark dragged a hand down his face. “You are impossible!”

“And you are unbelievable!” Y/n’s voice cracked, all the pent-up emotions clawing their way out. “You show up here, after years, and act like—like we can just fix this? Like none of it mattered?”

Mark’s nostrils flared. “It did matter.”

“Then why did you let me go?”

Mark exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “Don’t do that, Y/n.”

“Do what? Speak the truth? Say the things you don’t want to hear?” She let out a hollow laugh. “I gave you so many signs, Mark. So many signs that I wasn’t happy, that I needed you to fight for us. But you didn’t. You just—let me go.”

Mark scoffed, running a hand through his hair. “You really think I didn’t see it?” His voice was lower now, rough. “I felt it. Every time you pulled away. Every time work came first. Every time I looked at you and wondered if you even wanted this anymore.”

Y/n’s breath hitched, something inside her cracking. Silence fell between them, thick with everything unsaid.

Oscar, still sitting awkwardly in the car, looked between them again and let out a quiet sigh. Yeah, they’re definitely still in love.

She looked at Mark—really looked at him. The sharp crease between his brows, the tired weight in his eyes, the way his fists clenched like he was bracing for her to say something he didn’t want to hear.

And for the first time, she saw it for what it was.

They had spent years running in circles, trying to fix something that had been broken long before either of them admitted it.

“We weren’t good for each other back then,” she finally said, her voice quiet but firm.

Mark’s jaw tightened.

“And we’re not good for each other now.”

His expression darkened. “Don’t say that.”

“It’s the truth, Mark.” Y/n exhaled, shaking her head. “We tore each other apart without even meaning to. And we’re still doing it.”

Mark stared at her, the fight in him flickering—fading into something worse.

Acceptance.

For a long moment, neither of them said anything. The only sounds in the garage were the distant hum of engines and the occasional radio crackle.

Finally, Mark swallowed, nodding stiffly. “So that’s it?”

Y/n’s chest ached, but she nodded. “Yeah.”

And that was the cruelest part of it all.

They had loved each other. Really loved each other. But sometimes, love wasn’t enough. Sometimes, no matter how much you wanted to rewrite the past, the ending was already written.

tags!!

@hc-dutch

[regressionschool]

MOMMY KNOWS BEST: A NEW APPROACH TO MARRIAGE?

By Emily Dawson, Investigative Reporter

In an era of rising divorce rates and failing marriages, one company believes they have found a radical yet effective solution—one that redefines the roles within relationships rather than dissolving them.

The "Mommy Knows Best" (MKB) program, developed by Pampers Corporation, offers struggling couples an alternative to separation. Instead of counseling or legal battles, the program transitions one partner—typically the husband—into a fully dependent little.

By removing the stress, ego, and responsibility that often cause marital tension, Pampers claims to create a more balanced, harmonious household where the wife assumes a nurturing role, and the husband embraces a simpler, carefree existence.

To its supporters, it’s a long-overdue revolution. To its critics, it’s a disturbing erasure of masculinity.

“A Man Should Be a Man” – A Former Husband Speaks Out

Not everyone is thrilled with the program. Joseph, 38, once a participant in MKB, now lives alone after divorcing his wife of ten years. He remains a vocal critic of what he calls “forced regression”.

“They stripped men of everything that makes them men,” he says, his jaw tightening. “This isn’t love. It’s control.”

According to Joseph, his wife enrolled him without his full understanding. “She made it sound like therapy,” he scoffs. “Like something that would help us communicate better. But the ‘communication’ part? That was just me being told what to do while I sat there in a… in a… damn diaper.”

His fingers twitch on the table as he hesitates on the word, his cheeks flushing slightly, as if the memory itself still holds power over him.

I ask him how long he was in the program. He sighs. “Seven months.”

And when he left?

He shifts uncomfortably in his chair, avoiding eye contact. “It… took a while to adjust.”

Adjust?

His face darkens. “By the time I got out, I couldn’t even remember how to use the potty—eh, I mean toilet.”

He corrects himself quickly, but the slip is noticeable. A shadow of something uncertain flickers in his expression.

Does he still struggle with… certain habits?

His knee bounces under the table. "No. No, I’m fine now.” But he doesn’t sound convinced.

Though he claims to be fully independent again, he admits that certain instincts—like waiting for permission before making decisions—have been harder to shake.

“They train you to obey,” he mutters bitterly. “And for some guys, I guess that’s fine. But me? I lost everything.”

“He Finally Listens to Me” – A Wife’s Perspective

For Claire, 34, the experience couldn’t have been more different.

Before enrolling her husband, she says their marriage was on the verge of collapse.

“He never listened,” she explains, folding laundry as we talk. “Worked late, ignored housework, expected me to handle everything. It was like having a man-child already, just without the cute parts.”

She gestures toward the living room, where her husband—once a domineering, independent man—now sits in a soft playpen, happily occupied with colorful stacking rings.

He’s sucking a blue pacifier, his thick, crinkly Pampers diaper peeking out from beneath his cozy footed onesie. When Claire strokes his hair, he coos softly, leaning into her touch like an affectionate toddler.

“Now?” she smiles. “He actually listens.”

She explains that, in the past, every conversation turned into an argument. Now, there’s no stubbornness, no backtalk, no stress.

“When I tell him it’s naptime, he lays down. When I say he needs a change, he just giggles and lets me handle it. It’s the first time I’ve felt truly respected as a wife.”

But does he ever resist?

Claire chuckles, shaking her head. “Oh, of course. He still has little moments.”

Right on cue, her husband huffs and crosses his arms. "No change," he pouts, shaking his head. "Diaper fine."

Claire sighs. “Sweetheart, you’re soaked.”

He scowls, his lower lip jutting out petulantly—but when Claire raises an eyebrow, her voice firm yet patient, his resolve wavers.

“If you don’t let me change you,” she warns, “I’m turning off your cartoons for the rest of the day.”

His eyes widen. "Noooo!" He shakes his head frantically, the pacifier bouncing against his chest. “I be good! I be good!”

With a resigned sigh, he clambers onto the changing mat, his thick, swollen diaper squishing loudly beneath him. Claire ruffles his hair affectionately.

“See? So much easier than before,” she says with a smile.

Is This the Future of Marriage?

The Mommy Knows Best program is growing in popularity, with thousands of struggling couples enrolling every year. Pampers Corp reports that over 92% of participants choose to remain in the program permanently, claiming it strengthens marriages, eliminates conflict, and improves household harmony.

Psychologists point to reduced stress, structured routines, and positive reinforcement as key elements of its success.

And, of course, Pampers ensures that no participant ever has to worry about leaks, discomfort, or independence again.

For some, like Joseph, the program represents a loss of identity. But for women like Claire?

She simply smiles. “For the first time in my life, I’m happy. And more importantly?” She glances at her husband, who is now happily sucking his pacifier, waiting to be changed.

“So is he.”

(Sponsored in part by Pampers Corporation. Because a happy marriage starts with a happy little.)

[rebelspykatie]

Recently divorced Steve is roped into attending an adult summer camp with Robin. She thinks it’ll get him out of his funk, and she’s probably right. At this point, he’s mostly given up on love. He’s put off moving forward long enough and agrees that this can be his fresh start. When Steve has a chance encounter with Nancy in the airport, he thinks it’s destiny, them both going to the same summer camp. 

He has a vision of them together, the details of which he doesn’t reveal to anyone but Robin. It’s a fuzzy vision of curly brown hair, a bright smile, and a warm embrace. He fixates on it when they arrive at camp and Nancy is Robin’s roommate. It feels like the universe is aligning for him again, finally pushing him towards his destiny. Robin keeps setting up situations for them to be together, pushing them together for the team races, stepping aside so Nancy can be his partner on the ropes course. 

It also leads him to Eddie. They’re roommates for the week, and he’s Nancy’s best friend. Apparently they spent many years attending this same summer camp as kids before it reopened years later as a camp for adults. They butt heads at first, but he’s quick witted and funny, and makes Steve laugh when he needs it most. He works his way right into Steve’s heart. There’s this fearlessness that guides his every move, unafraid to look silly or be an outcast. He reminds Steve of Robin in a way that feels like home. 

They spend a lot of sleepless nights together, in separate bunks, talking across the darkness about all their hopes and fears. Eddie drags him to his thinking rock that overlooks the lake and Steve doesn’t think twice about pulling Eddie into the water and tangling their legs together in the moonlight. The paint smeared across Steve’s cheeks during arts and crafts is in the shape of Eddie’s fingers and the smile on his face feels permanent. 

Steve’s never taken a lot of chances in life, always going down the easiest path, never putting up much resistance when things felt less than perfect. Nancy feels like much of the same, and it takes him too long to notice that there’s no spark there. Sure, they fit together in a way that makes sense, but it doesn’t bring him to life like Eddie does. 

He doesn’t light up like Robin does around Nancy. He doesn’t elicit that coy smile or that fierce protectiveness from Nancy. After a while, he starts to think the universe was wrong. That his vision was about meeting Robin’s soulmate and how he wants her happiness just as much as he wants his. 

Nancy doesn’t challenge him to try new things, or face his fears. Eddie does, helping him gain the confidence to sing karaoke while Eddie plays guitar for the whole camp to hear. Robin and Eddie are the ones by his side when Steve’s parents don’t show up for family day. Eddie’s the one he keeps finding himself pulled to, a thousand missed moments where he could’ve reeled Eddie in for a kiss but didn’t. All for a vision that doesn’t even feel real anymore. 

And maybe Steve learns to let go of expectations. Accepts a part of himself that he avoided for so many years because it didn’t seem to matter when he was married and living the American dream. But now? He wants more. He wants to wake up from being a zombie in his own life. 

When he kisses Eddie in the mess hall in front of the whole camp on the last day because he feels time slipping away, he suddenly understands. It all clicks into place with his arms around Eddie, who’s pressing their foreheads together with a grin, that his vision was never about Nancy (and yes he has a type). It was always about Eddie and how Eddie could be his home.

[melancholymetropolis]

Please Please Please

plot: Marriage Law AU In which two best friends partake in a marriage of connivence to appease a marriage law placed on Piltover. However, one party is no longer satisfied with that arrangement and proposes a divorce.

pairings: Adult!Claggor x Reader

genre(s): Hurt with Comfort; YEARNING; childhood friends to lovers

warnings: unedited (mostly). MUTUAL SILENT PINING. friends to married idiots to lovers. lots of tears from both parties. love confession for the ages. no smut, just feels

a/n: I promised this months ago, but burn out is real. I am fully aware that this might make no noise, but I needed to get this out. I needed to write something where two people are so hopelessly in love with one another that they almost sabotage it. this is for the sad girls-- they need love too

w.c: 2.0k

“I think. . . we should get a divorce,” I said, looking up from the steaming pile of mashed potatoes on my plate.

Claggor lowered the serving spoon back into the bowl, before placing it on the table. His hands clenched and released repeatedly, just as his mouth started open before snapping shut. He was trying, and failing, to find the right thing to say. Thoughts played out on his face like subtitles, yet they managed to be jumbled together. After a few seconds, the taller gentleman inhaled sharply and raised the glass of wine to his lips. He took several gulps before waving his hand for me to continue.

I didn't know how I expected him to react, but it wasn’t like that. Clay was flustered and speechless. Two reactions I've hardly ever seen him portray in our decade long friendship together. His demeanor was that of confidence and security. There wasn't anything he couldn't achieve with his hard work ethic and enlightened mind. It was one of the reasons why he was a decorated engineer at such a young age. Why he had a seat on the Council, discussing the worries of undercity residents and bringing further unity to Piltover. 

“Well,” I said, nervously tapping the table. “When the Marriage Law was announced, you suggested a union between us to avoid becoming entangled with strangers. A platonic union.”

“Are you not. . . happy with this arrangement?” Claggor chose his words carefully. As if he were lighting a match next to a powder keg.

“I . . .” I turned away from him, almost too embarrassed to express my wants. I mirrored his actions: grabbed my glass of wine and took several gulps from it. I sighed heavily and looked back up at him. His brown eyes were trained on me. Watching my every move, dissecting every expression on my face. 

There was a look of panic behind them, of desperation. 

He didn’t want this to end.

“I am happy with the arrangement,” I replied. “You're my best friend and confidant. My right hand. You know me better than anyone else. So, it was a no brainer to enter this union with you. I love the home we created and spending time with you. It's just. . .”

“Tell me, Y/N,” he said gently.

“I . . . want more,” I said softly. “I want a romantic partner more than a platonic husband. And I know you're not interested in romance. You made that notion very clear with our separate rooms and such.” I paused for a second and chewed on my bottom lip. I waited until the words arranged themselves in a neat pattern before speaking again. “I am watching my homegirls go on dates, buy engagement rings, have giant weddings with their spouses. It didn’t bother me in the beginning, since this whole mandated marriage thing was so fresh. But, it’s starting to. I feel like I am missing out on something wonderful. And I don't want to pressure you into having that kind of relationship. So, I'm suggesting a separation. A no-fault divorce.”

Claggor nodded slowly. “Okay.”

“Okay?” I replied with a raised eyebrow. “‘Okay’ as you understand? Or ‘Okay’ as in "let's get divorced””.

“More like “Okay, let's go on a date””.

“You don't mean that,” I said, shocked. 

Claggor took another swig of his wine before leaning forward. “I do.”

“You're joking.”

“I'm not.”

“Bullshit”.

Clay chuckled and leaned back in his chair. “What? Are you scared to go on a date with your husband?”

“Well. . . yes”, I said, earning a deeper laugh from Claggor. 

“Come on, sweet pea,” he teased.

“I hate it when you call me that.”

“I won't bite. . . unless you want me to.” There was a smirk on his lips. Dangerous and seductive, just like the rest of him at that moment. 

“Clay, what are you doing?” I said with narrowed eyes. “What's your angle?”

“No angle,” he replied with a shrug. “Simply flirting with my wife.”

My body froze. My eyes scanned his face. Once. Twice. Three times to find the joke. To find humor behind that gaze. There wasn’t any. He was being completely serious. The realization caused me to slump back in my chair. Out of all the things I’ve been expecting, his proposition for romance had not been one of them. He was a man of solutions, or facts. To me, he saw our marriage as a means to an end. I was the only straight, single woman left in our friend group. We had enough history to know all sides of each other. The good, the bad and the annoying traits that graced our person. The fear of the unknown had always plagued my consciousness. The uncertainty of the future had given me crippling anxiety. Marrying a stranger would’ve been too risky then; Claggor was the safest option. He made me feel secure and seen. There had been many nights that he simply held me during a panic attack, or called out of work because I wasn’t feeling too well. But, when I was all better, he’d never mention those times again. Almost like they didn’t happen. Almost like they meant nothing to him; which was why I thought romance was completely off the table. It was why I thought I needed to find someone else.

Because loving someone who doesn’t want me has gotten too painful.

The buzzing of the timer brought me back to reality. I snapped to my feet and took quick steps to the kitchen. I hastily shoved on the oven mitts and opened the metal door. I removed the cobbler from the top rack and placed it on the stove. In one fell swoop, I turned off the oven, took off my mitts and placed them back on the designated hook by the stove. After taking several deep breaths, I turned on my heel and intended to head to the dining room. But Claggor was standing in the kitchen’s doorway. A wary look on his face. 

“Did I do something wrong?” There was hurt in his voice, a pain I have heard before.

“No, of course not,” I said a little too quickly. “Why would you ask that?”

“Because you’re crying, sweet pea,” he said, softly.

I pressed a hand to my cheek and immediately felt damp skin. “Oh.”

“You have to talk to me, Y/N,” Claggor states, taking small steps in the room. “Because clearly something is bothering you and it has to do with our marriage. I can’t help you if I don’t know what’s going on.”

Marriage.

It was one of the few times he referred to our agreement with that word. 

It was always “union” or “arrangement”.

Hardly ever marriage.

Hardly ever a word that insinuated more than a platonic relationship.

A friendship. 

“Do you. . .” I heard myself asking. “Love me. . . romantically?”

A somber smile formed on his lips. And, despite my blurry vision, I could see his eyes begin to gloss over. Every muscle in his body relaxed. He was about an arm’s length away from me, then. But, he didn’t dare touch me. Afraid of how I might react; knowing my history and skittish tendencies. 

“Baby, I have loved you every day since we were fifteen years old,” he confessed, tears threatening to fall from his eyes. “And just when I think I can’t love you anymore, you do something that makes my heart grow three sizes.” A tear rolled from his left eye and rolled on his cheek. He didn’t bother to wipe it away. “I haven’t loved anyone the way I love you. I couldn’t. I won’t. You are the love of my life. So, please. . . please don’t leave me now. Not when I just got you all to myself.”

More tears escape their ducts and slide down my cheeks. “But you said you wanted this marriage to remain platonic. Hell, you didn’t call it ‘marriage’ when you proposed. You said it was an “arrangement”, like some sort of business deal.”

“Come on, sweet pea,” he teased. “If I told you I felt, you would’ve run for the hills. We both know that.”

A small giggle fell from my lips. “True.”

Claggor took a step forward, our bodies mere inches apart. “I had to present this marriage in the most non-threatening way possible for you to even consider it. Hence, the separate rooms, separate bank accounts and separate lifestyles. The “marriage” couldn’t be more than a legal obligation in the beginning.’

“You wanted me to trust you,” I declared, stepping forward. 

“Exactly,” Claggor replied, closing the distance between us. “There wouldn’t be a relationship if we couldn’t trust each other.”

The rise and fall of his chest was quick and almost panicked. The complete opposite of his calm demeanor. His glossy eyes were beginning to make my heart weep and my mind sing with lyrics from sappy love songs. I could feel my heartbeat quicken, matching Claggor’s. I placed a palm on his cheek; he immediately leaned into my touch. His eyes seemed darker than before, almost like his pupils dilated at the sight of me. I felt myself lean forward and my eyes drift close. His lips hit mine a moment later. Claggor groaned loudly and wrapped his arms around me. I gasped at his strength and he took that opportunity to slither his tongue in my mouth. It was my turn to groan, then. Somehow, his palm was at the nape of my neck with his fingers in my braids. His other hand hooked around my waist and lifted me off the ground. My rear collided with the marble countertop and jerked back in surprise. 

Claggor immediately pulled away. “D-Did I go too far?” His eyes searched my face for any sign of discomfort. “I apologize if I did.”

I shushed him and opened my thighs for him. Claggor’s soft middle was in between that open space in moments and his lips were on mine again. There was heat behind the second one. A ferocity I never expected from him. His hands were everywhere. Rubbing my thighs, clenching my waist, tangled in my braids. Claggor wanted to touch me anywhere and everywhere. He wanted to feel every part of me. Almost like he was making up for lost time with the quickness of his touch. It seemed like he had been waiting for this moment for a very long time. Maybe, by his own admission, for almost a decade. My heart glowed at the thought. Claggor’s longing for me had reached its limit. The love he kept shielded from me was slipping out; spilling onto my body via gentle kisses and quick touches. He wanted me so bad it was beginning to hurt him.

Clay inhales sharply before pulling away from the embrace. His forehead is still pressed against mine and his arms hold me tighter than they ever have. His breathing is rapid and his exhales fan my face. His entire body was trembling, almost as if it were coming down from a high. When his brown eyes finally open, they are darker than they ever were. Deeper in shade and emotion. He drinks me in, reading my every expression before opening his mouth.

“I love you.”

The words are like an arrow to my heart and I feel tears begin to well in my eyes.

“Please don’t leave me.” The plea was stronger that time, sharper in tone.

It demanded an answer. 

“I won’t,” I said. “Because I love you, too.”

-----------------------

a/n: I have an idea for an Arcane Marriage Law series with different characters. Y'all just gotta be let me know how you feel about it.

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Taglist

@chubbygrimpanda20 @slutforurmom575 @kermitlaffrogg @vanillasundaeblob @appapasta @miniaturepenguinkryptonite @navisakura @majonla @simpfl369 @celineloves2dmen @lyn-soso stormster111 @glitterforashes

[viaviavie]

OPERATION CINDERELLA-SABOTAGE [SAVANACLAW]

in which he rescues you from your very short-lived wedding.

SUMMARY: due to a massive misunderstanding, a prince from royal sword academy is set to wed you at sunset. thankfully, your un-princely crush is here to save the day and crash this lovely wedding.

PAIRINGS: everyone x fem reader (separately)

WARNINGS: they're being a bit dramatic, characters are 18+, slightly suggestive (leona and ruggie), leona lifts you up bc he's a big man like that,

NOTES: this is echoes the ghost bride event, but listening to this prompted me to write out this scenario instead. i made this for shits and giggles, so have fun with this self-indulgent fic ofmine writing for savanaclaw was pretty funny tho

HEARTSLABYUL | SAVANACLAW | OCTANIVELLE | SCARABIA | POMEFIORE | IGNIHYDE | DIASOMNIA

There was no way you would be able to say 'no' now, not when there were hundreds of Royal Sword Academy students and even more members of a random royal family whose last names you cannot recall waiting outside that door. Aside from a completely oblivious Neige and Che'nya who was nowhere to be found, there was no one you could really ask for help to get you out of this mess.

You turn to your supposed betrothed with frantic eyes, shaking your head wildly. "I already told you, I'm not the one you danced with at the ball!" Your hisses fell on deaf ears. That damned prince from Royal Sword Academy was too busy making the 'goo-goo' eyes at you to even register what you were saying.

"I just happened to have the same shoe-size!"

Damn it, why did you have to agree to fitting some missing girl's shoe?!

Pierce Charmant, possibly the most delusional guy you have ever met in Twisted Wonderland, clung onto your calf with a stubborn expression. He had no intentions of letting you go, and neither did his five other guards that had blocked your way.

"You have to be her!"

"You don't even know my name!"

You were really counting on Grim to get someone, anyone, to stop this wedding. Yet, as you are walked down the aisle by the fair Neige, you are already planning out a divorce settlement plan. Based on the number of guests here, who had filled this entire venue from top to bottom, you would have guessed that this prince was rather rich. If it was to be an unhappy marriage, at least your wallet would be more than compensated.

You managed to convince this prince to send invitations to Night Raven College, but that didn't matter. He was so excited and in a hurry to marry, that your friends barely had any time to rescue you! There must have been so much traffic with the mirrors that they couldn't even use them! There was just no way that they'd make it in time now.

And so you consign yourself to readying some divorce papers within the next few weeks, and planning out how to avoid any more interactions with this guy while you were married.

You stood at the chapel's base, your expression exasperated than ever as you kept darting your gaze to the door. You've already tripped over the aisle a few times, fumbled the scripted vows, and even called for a bathroom break or two to stall.

And now comes the big moment that you were so desperately trying to avoid.

"Would you, Pierce Charmant, take the Ramshackle Dorm Prefect, as your lawfully wedded wife?"

The prince smiles so sickly sweet, and its the look of a man who won't change his mind.

"I do."

You grimace as the officiant faces you, just as blind to your annoyed expression.

"Would you, the Ramshackle Dorm Prefect, take Pierce Charmant as you lawfully wedded husband?" They didn't even use your name!

You pause, the image of your crush flashing before your eyes.

You would never see him again if you let yourself get married. Defiance returns to your face as you suck in a deep breath, ready to deal with the consequences of rejecting this delusional prince in front of hundreds of people.

"I—"

"I object!"

LEONA KINGSCHOLAR

"What have you gotten yourself into this time, herbivore? How bothersome. You had better be prepared to kiss the ground I walk on as soon as I grab you from the altar. You owe me for this, big time. Don't even think about lumping me in with the same lot as Ashengrotto. I suppose I'll have to retell you this as soon as I get you out of there... Damn it, the prefect couldn't pick up the goddamn phone for the fifteenth time. Park the car, Ruggie. I'm going in."

Imagine Leona's irritation when he has Grim tugging at his tail blubbering nonsense about you and a wedding. He really thought it was some stupid ploy to have him attend class or some arrangement until he heard Malleus expressing his concerns a couple rooms away.

Because what do you mean the herbivore is getting hitched into a royal family?! You sure that we are talking about the same magicless prefect with literally no credentials or documentation?

It's enough to have the beastman get up and deal with the issue himself. Consider yourself a lucky prefect since he is personally driving his way to the venue to pluck you from Prince Whatever's clutches.

Did he think the plan through? Not really. Leona is a prince himself from the Sunset Savannah, and he can easily abuse that status for issues like these. It should be easy. All he had to do was go in, and get you out, right? Right?

That being said, was it really necessary to dress for the occasion? He would have happily went in with his uniform, but Ruggie seemed to have insisted because no one would take him seriously if he came in looking like a bum! Hair tied back and donning a suit, he can easily pass as a prince charming if he tried. Still, he knows that you wouldn't expect him to be a white knight. You knew him too well to think him to be one.

Kicking down the doors of the chapel, everyone's eyes flew to Leona with mild shock and surprise. The second prince from the Sunset Savannah? What business could he possibly have here? Of course, that business would be no other than you who had gasped at the sight of the beastman, dressed to the nines as if he were the groom himself.

It takes everything in Leona's power to hold back his exasperated sigh when his eyes land on you. No wonder Pierce Charmant fell in love at first sight, you looked like an absolute dream. The longer he stared at you, the easier it was to forget that he had something to take care of here. As beautiful as you looked in that dress and veil, you would sooner suit the colors of the Sunset Savannah better than whatever this man's designers gave you.

Pierce lets out an uncomfortable cough, straightening his back as his eyes narrowed onto the beastman. "Prince Leona Kingscholar, I do recall sending an invitation. Unfortunately, you are quite late to the occasion." His hand extends towards the pews, a tight lipped smile surfacing his expression.

"Still, please have a seat. We can pardon the intrusion."

Leona flashes a haughty smile, his stance exuding pride and confidence. "You don't have to. I'm here to crash your wedding, Charmant." He takes long strides down to the altar, eyes fixated on your own. The beastman ignores the scandalized gasps, the 'oohs' and 'ahhs' as he makes his way to you, as if he was eager to retrieve a possession of his.

It's the way your lower lip quivers, how your hands wring against one another and the slight bead of sweat forming on your temples. It was difficult to tell if you were nervous yourself, or if you were just taken aback by how handsome the beastman was in his get-up.

"Herbivore," It snaps you out of your daze, reminding you to blink when your eyes land onto his narrowed green eyes. His voice is as commanding as ever, like the call of a lion to his pride.

Rather than addressing you from the high tops, he stands at the bottom of the alter with a raised brow, looking up to you. Then his lips curl upwards into a sly grin, mocking Pierce whose jaw was clenched.

"Herbivore, you really wanna marry that guy?" Leona asks in that low coaxing tone, very well knowing the answer before you shook your head wildly.

"No!"

Leona shrugs to himself with an exasperated sigh.

"Good enough for me."

Feeling a pair of strong arm wrap around your thighs, you couldn't help but let out a slight yelp when you felt your feet leave the ground. Instinctively clawing at Leona's back, you find yourself hoisted onto his shoulder like a sack of rice. The crowd gasps audibly, and you cannot help but hide your face in your hands as the beastman shamelessly began to walk towards the exit point without another word.

"Where do you think you're going?!" Pierce yells out from the altar, his hand falling to the blade hanging on his hip. You hear Leona snort, pausing for a moment to look back at the man. He rolls his eyes, almost annoyed by the other prince's theatrics.

"I'm bringing the Prefect back to where she belongs. I didn't think you weren't above spiriting strangers away over shoe sizes."

Gritting his teeth, Pierce shook his head and grinded onto his teeth. "You are not her guardian, nor her lover. You have no authority, Kingscholar!"

You can feel Leona exhale from the way his shoulders fall slightly, followed by how his grip on your middle tightens. "Then I stake my claim on her today," His tone is much more darker now, more dominating than the arrogant tone he had been using since he stepped through those doors.

Truly befitting of a lion demanding the submission of lower prey. "Do you really want to cross paths with my family, Charmant? I am sure my family is willing to negotiate at the next possible date." You know that Leona is smirking now, based on how irritation flashes across your supposed groom's face.

"Well, if you decide to try, my family will write you back in three days time. Until then, Charmant."

Noises erupt from the crowd as they watched Leona carry you down to the exit. Hanging against his back, you poke at his shoulder slightly. "Really? You have the authority to do that?" Leona clicks his tongue in his response, almost attempting to shush you down.

"Of course not, but Charmant doesn't have to know. Let Crowley take care of it. I am only the delivery boy."

Sure, it was a massive bluff on his end, but does it really matter? Leona got you out of that situation safe and sound! Even if it ended with you being hoisted over his shoulder and carried out of the cathedral, there was not a single scratch on you! That being said, Charmant was not exactly happy to know that Leona scammed him into letting you go, but you were long gone when he came to that conclusion.

Did we get Leona to drive you back to Night Raven College? Nope. Ruggie's getting a good bonus from being the getaway driver, not to mention the fact he drove you all through a fast-food drive-thru on Leona's wallet. He doesn't have to know either, not when he is fast asleep on your shoulder in the backseat.

Oddly enough, Leona wouldn't be leaving your side anytime soon. Even after Ruggie's dropped you off at Ramshackle, the lion beastman trails after you like a shadow into the manor, up until he's invaded your room.

"Leona, don't you have to go back to your dorm?" Raising a brow at your questioning tone, Leona crossed his arms and stared at you through the mirror's reflection.

The sun had already set long ago, leaving the moon filtering in through the windows. It was the only source of light, considering you haven't even though to flip the lights on. You can see Leona behind you, his eyes following the train of your dress and how it sweeps against the creaky floorboards.

"Ha? I haven't even started asking for compensation yet." He rumbles, finding his hand playing with the lace of your supposed wedding dress. The thought of it makes his stomach churn, followed by that prince's scent invading his nostrils.

Green eyes flicker back to you, something dark reflecting in them to the point where your breath is hitched.

"You ever thought of marriage before, herbivore?" Your eyes widened with surprise at his question. You could only let out a nervous chuckle, avoiding his gaze as you shift your gaze onto your wedding dress. "This entire experience has made me terrified of getting married for a while, Leona." You hear his humming from behind, eyes returning to the mirror to find his hand ghosting above the veil fixed onto the crown of your head. He doesn't let himself touch, only hovering slightly above the fabric. He seems almost lost in thought when he shoots the next question. "What kind of man are you looking for?" You stay silent, almost tempted to attack him for how seductive his voice seemed to sound in that moment. He must've been doing it on purpose. Then he chuckles slightly, teasing. "Don't tell me you're after the princely type like Charmant Ultra-Soft there." He easily catches your wrist when you whipped around to face him, smirking slightly at your somewhat flustered expression. "Of course not! He's... he's not my type anyways!" "Then what's your type then?" Gulping to yourself, you take a step back. He takes one forward. Another step back, another of his comes forward, all until your back is pressed against the fixed mirror. With a quiet purr from his throat, he hunches forward to hover above the crook of your neck.

You are already so certain that he sees through you, through the way your heart pounds in your ears or to the way you let him invade your personal space like he belonged there. Leona's lips quirk up into a smirk, followed by a knowing hum. "You never know, Prefect. Maybe Charmant will come knocking down your door claiming my stake on you is fake." His large hand presses itself against your hip in an almost possessive manner, but you can easily sense his hesitance, waiting for your approval.

"Or maybe, you'll wake up to everyone crowning you as a princess from the Sunset Savannah. Would it be so bad, herbivore?"

Pulling himself away, Leona rests an arm above your head and towers over you. You cannot avoid his gaze now, nor can you avoid that smug look of his against the glow of moonlight.

"Would it be so bad being yours?"

RUGGIE BUCCHI

"Nah, I can't use the Kingscholar name. Leona's gonna have my neck if I used his identity... Ali Baba? Does it look like I own thousands of camels and elephants? Come on, Jack. You're a smart cookie, you can think of some fancy-schmancy princey name for me! Can't exactly start a dispute with a royal family that doesn't exist... Pssh, you think Crowley's gonna help out in time? Prefect's gonna end up paying alimony if we let him take care of it! Come on, you got it Jack! Think faster!"

For all the trouble that Ruggie had caused you during and after Leona's overblot, he had to hand it over to you— you were probably one of the most well-resourced individuals in the campus. Sure, you had no magic but you had a good head above your shoulders and you seemed to have a knack for getting yourself out of tricky situations. It was admirable, really. He really respects you, and would often trust that you can take care of yourself!

Alas, you couldn't get yourself out of this situation. Ruggie had to do the biggest double-take when he looked over to see a wedding being broadcasted on Jack's phone, only to see you being dragged against your will for a gown fitting at a boutique.

Judging by that freaked out look on your face, you're going to need some help and Ruggie is ready to help you escape! Sure, he isn't as powerful as Leona or influential as Malleus... Now that he thought of it, how was he going to take you back safely without causing a ruckus? Crowley obviously is out of the question, and you might as well be married at sunset if he doesn't do anything now.

He's gonna have to pull out the big S.

S, as in, scammer.

"Darling, I'm here!"

You cannot keep your jaw from falling from its hinges as you watch Ruggie walk into the cathedral with a certain stride that was so unlike him. He wears a suit that is too expensive for his tastes, posture straight and refined to the point you were almost fooled into thinking it was a rich twin brother separated from birth.

In that moment, he seemed more like Azul than he did the hyena beastman you knew. It was only for a brief moment before you saw Ruggie, with his little crooked smile and the way he rubs the back of his neck with a hint of shyness.

"... Darling?" You croak in confusion. Ruggie laughs, easing your nervous heart. "Shishishi, it's me! Sorry, where you waiting for me that long?" Without a care in a world, the hyena beastman is making quick steps down the aisle towards you. You can tell that he is nervous though, based on the way his tail twitches slightly as eyes follow him down.

"And who are you?" Pierce demands. Ruggie gasps, feigning offense as he glances to the crowd, looking for some sort of support. "Me? You don't recognize me?" Sighing dramatically, the beastman shook his head in disappointment.

"Sheesh, didn't think that royalty these days haven't kept up with the times. Let me introduce myself," He grins, bowing to disguise the fact that he is playing a crook.

"Prince Varve Cu, a pleasure to make your acquaintance."

Barbecue?! Is that what you're craving, Ruggie?!

You want to choke on the air you just sharply inhaled. You've always known that Ruggie was clever and that he was not above dirty tricks, but you never did expect him to try and scam royalty into thinking he's someone else!

But Pierce hums to himself, attempting to recall the unfamiliar name in the recesses of his memory. "Cu? I have never heard of that name before." It almost baffles you that the prince was actually questioning his own memory, over a family name that never existed.

Always the opportunist, Ruggie scoffs in a spoiled manner, turning his nose up childishly. You would have been fooled by his act if you never really knew his true nature.

"How rude! We are quite the affluent family, you know? Luckily for you, I'm in a very good mood." Ruggie clears his throat, running a hand through his hair as he reaches his hand out towards you.

"I'm here to take back the Ramshackle Prefect. I am afraid she's already spoken for."

You may never get a chance to escape again, so you quickly flee Pierce's side to take Ruggie's hand. Easily, his hand wraps itself around your waist as he steps in front of you.

Pierce raises a brow, almost alarmed by how swiftly you had retreated to this mystery man. "You had no ring when we met. You never mentioned being betrothed to another prince, Prefect."

Thankfully, Ruggie is quick to answer for you with all the flowery vocabulary he can muster. "Clearly, if you were better well-informed, the Cu family does not require the use of rings. We firmly believe our love is enough proof to the world that we are one!" He turns to you and winks, hiding away his nervous grip on your waist.

"And we are in love, aren't we?"

There's that look in his eyes that is begging for you to play along with the lie, before everything would fall apart. Ruggie knew he fell for the right girl when you cozied up to his side, playing up a few tears and whimpers.

"I was so scared! How can I possibly tell this man that I already belonged to someone else? He wouldn't let me go!" You exclaimed, earning shocked reactions from the crowd.

Pierce gulps to himself, hands raised in defense. "Well, I—!"

Ruggie clutches your hands, playing the part of a charismatic prince that he would only be for a few more minutes. "Say no more, Prefect. I understand. Rest assured, you will never leave my side ever again." He drawls dramatically before he straightens his posture, glaring with the energy of a spoiled brat as he could muster.

"I will be certain to spare you of my family's wrath! They do not take very lightly to incidents like these, but for the sake of my lovely girl here, I shall be lenient."

Pierce finds himself nodding nervously, wanting to hide from the scrutiny of the crowd that seemed to be shocked that he would try to marry an unwilling bride, much to your annoyance. Only now, they decide to question this wedding?!

The hyena beastman begins to lead you by the waist, ushering you through the carpets in a hurried manner. "Let us be on our way, Prefect." He murmurs into your ear, but it is not the exit he takes you to.

Rather, it's the buffet table set to the side.

"Ruggie, what are you doing?" You whisper as he pauses at the edge, grabbing two paper plates and shoving one into your hands. He grins at you, hiding a laugh behind a free palm.

"Shishishi— I ain't planning on leaving emptyhanded, Prefect. Help me out here, will you? Let's take as much as we can before this idiot catches on. Come on, let's stack up a plate for the ride back!"

Luckily for you and Ruggie, you both manage to sneak away before anyone started realizing that the hyena beastman had fooled everyone in that cathedral. It's a subtle reminder for him to lay low for the next few weeks and deny any relation to being a prince. Does a guy like him look like a prince? Sure, he's the prince of empty pockets!

Munching on the wedding treats with a hand on the wheel, Ruggie has already prepared himself for the long drive back to Night Raven College. He's already begun negotiating some sort of compensation for getting you out of that wedding. A handful of favors here and there, mostly packed lunches from you to keep him fueled for a couple of days.

He expects you to be in more comfortable clothing by the time he's finished returning Leona's car and clothes. Much to his surprise, you're still in that poofy wedding dress, holding onto your own cup of instant noodles while Ruggie's was on the little coffee table in your living room. You do not miss the way his tail wags at the sight or how he averts his gaze, shuffling to the space beside you.

"You couldn't take it off on your own?" He questions, only to be replied with a casual shrug from you.

"Couldn't reach the zipper. I gave up."

Ah.

Consigning himself to the awkward silence, he takes his own cup and starts to munch down on the supposed 'wedding' dinner. Both you and him watch the flickers of the old television, watching some news as white noise. It's only coverage on the wedding, the runaway bride and the mysterious prince that seems to not exist.

Ruggie knows better than to let intrusive thoughts leave his lips, but he cannot help it as Pierce Charmant appears on the screen. "You think you ever gonna marry rich? Charmant was ready to give you an easy ticket to luxury, you know?" He doesn't meet your eyes, but you feel his tail brush against your arm, badgering for an answer.

Following a slurp, you shake your head. "I mean, if I was able to get a divorce with good settlement money? I would've." You tell him with a short shrug, so casually as if it were a lighthearted topic.

A bitter laugh leaves Ruggie's lips, ears deflated slightly at the thought. "Yeah? He can give you a pretty easy life, but he'd be real lucky to have you. Seven-time overblot champion? He's won jackpot." Not really. It was never about your achievements anyways. Pierce would've been the luckiest man in Twisted Wonderland to win you over, for all your sweetness and edges.

Ruggie's sulky behavior does not go missed by you, and you could only nudge his elbow. "I would've taken the settlement money and asked you on a date. My treat," It's the way his ears perk up, his head whipped towards you hastily with that surprised expression. He doesn't even realize his tail is brushing against the couch wildly, or that his cheeks are getting warm as he takes in your shy smile.

"It'd be funny if we ended up going on more dates and I ended up using that settlement money for a wedding. It saves a lot of money, don't you think so?"

Laughter bubbles from Ruggie's chest, and in that moment, he finds himself falling in love all over again. "Shishishi, you're a genius! That's what I like about you!"

Shifting closer to your side, Ruggie presses his cheek against your shoulder. The dress takes up so much space that it nearly swallows him too, hiding your hands from sight as he laces his fingers with yours in a silent confession.

You squeeze in conformation, relaxing into his warmth as he eyes the skirt with interest.

"Think we can sell it? Might catch a big buck for a royal wedding dress." You mutter with a gleam of amusement in your eyes. Ruggie chuckled to himself in agreement. "Yeah? I'd be happy to sell it for you as long as I get a cut of profits as the selling agent."

"Do you take payments in kisses?"

Instant noodles set aside, Ruggie licks his lips as he leans in towards you. For a prey-like subspecies, he looks very much like a predator looking down on his meal when he stares at you this way. Eyes fixated on your plush lips, he hummed in contemplation.

"Wanna give me one now for all the hard work I did getting you out of that wedding?"

JACK HOWL

"I'm sure that it's just a misunderstanding. If Prince Charmant is everything he says he is, then surely, he will let her go. I will be sure of it that she returns to Ramshackle tonight. The Prefect... I would rather not see her look so distressed like that. I just hope she isn't harmed in any way. Ace, if everything goes south... have Lilia on speed dial. If I cannot save the Prefect, Malleus would be our last resort. Agreed? Agreed."

Possibly the least unhinged one on this list. Not gonna lie, out of everyone in this school, definitely the least dramatic and most pragmatic ones out there. He insisted on dragging Crowley to the altar, but the Headmaster was nowhere to be found.

Sure, Jack has his own feelings for you. Of course, he doesn't want to see you get married to someone else. However, it is your choice and he will always support that.

That being said, he knows you don't want to get married based on your pale expression and strained grins. Clearly, you aren't very enthusiastic about his wedding and if Jack had confidence in himself, he already knew that this prince was certainly not your type.

Jack is smart enough to enlist the help of your closest friends. The first years are definitely helping, from transportation to the last line of defenses if things got awry in that cathedral. Sebek is ready outside to contact Lilia and Malleus should it be necessary, but Jack hopes it won't have to come down to that.

He is probably the only one who has faith that Pierce Charmant can see reason, even when he was the same one who got deluded into thinking you were his one true love because of your shoe size.

Jack doesn't actually dress himself up! He comes in without any fancy preparation really. He's just that much of an authentic guy, and he cares too much about you to keep up appearances.

Jack comes in panting and drenched in sweat, driven by a sense of urgency and alarm. He truly thought he was too late, but it seems that he came at the right time.

"Prefect!" He yells out, eyes zoning onto you as you dropped the bouquet in your hands. The sight of him urges you to move, a mixture of worry and relief swirling in your core.

"Jack!" Your voice rings out in return, echoing of the walls.

Abandoning Pierce, you ignore the prince's calls to you as you race down to the wolf beastman. You ignore the gasps and the stares, immediately pressing your hands against Jack's toned bicep.

"Jack, are you okay?!" You cry out, feeling his chest heave in and out for air. He winces, looking up at you and it only makes his chest constrict even tighter. Jack never meant to worry you like this, but that concern of yours makes his heart skip too many beats.

"Prefect," He doesn't answer your initial question as he attempts to stand up straight amidst pants. Large calloused hands tremble as they take yours, as if keeping them safe in his gentle grip.

"Please don't marry him. Don't marry him if you don't wish to."

He cares not for the prince, the crowd, not even his own feelings as he contemplates the thought of you giving your heart away to someone else. Sucking sharply through his teeth, Jack looks up to a scandalized Pierce who stares from afar. "I am not the one to dictate you what to do, who you choose to give your heart to." He returns his gaze to you, a look so gentle in spite of his sharp features. Jack makes an effort to be soft with you, so quiet in the moment in spite of the spectators watching you both. He wouldn't be this way in public, you knew this.

But if this was the last time he may ever see you as the Prefect, and not some prince's wife, then he wouldn't lose that chance.

Jack lets go of your hands, allowing his trembling fingers to grasp your shoulders lightly. Swallowing to himself, he asks with such uncertainty that it's almost unlike him to doubt what he knew of you. "Prefect, do you wish to marry that man?" He murmurs, eyeing Pierce once more.

He had to be sure. Jack never wanted to take away your choice and perhaps, he was the one with the misunderstanding. Perhaps, you did want to marry this prince from the bottom of your heart.

It was relief that flooded his chest and sparked life back into his tail when you shake your head, beaming at him as if he were a silly boy.

"I don't want to marry him, Jack."

Your words are enough to give him resolve to look at Pierce clearly now. Firm and stubborn, Jack glares at the prince as he positions himself in front of you like a guard. Defensive, but not complacent.

"You heard the Prefect. She doesn't want to marry you." Before Pierce could retort, Jack cleared his throat once more with a sense of authority. He may be a random student from Night Raven College, but that was not going to stop him from defending your wishes against someone who could abuse his power.

"If you have a problem with that, talk it up with Headmaster Crowley. Otherwise, you cannot force her into wedding you. Can you sincerely call yourself a proud student of Royal Sword Academy if you go against the very conducts your school preaches?"

Honestly, Ace and Deuce had to interfere before Jack began to scold the rest of the guests for letting you get married against your will. Admittedly, no one really wanted to interfere now because of how much shame they felt after Jack's lecturing.

Jack was mindful to bring in an extra pair of clothes for you! He would have been happy to rummage through your closet for you, but he is a certified gentleman. He wouldn't go through your stuff without asking, so you would have to settle for wearing some of his clothes. They are likely to be a bit bigger on you, but it sends his tail wagging on overdrive to see you draped in his clothes, his scent.

Quite sweet of the first years to help take you back to Ramshackle. Both you and Jack seemed to have forgotten that you had borrowed his clothes though. The least you could do is wash them for him before you've returned them.

"You didn't have to do that, you know?" Jack grumbled, arms crossed across his pectorals with that disgruntled expression. You knew better than to buy his nonchalant act when his tail seems to undo his efforts to seem unbothered.

You raised a brow at him, holding out his folded laundry in your arms. "What's wrong with it? They're pretty much ready for you to wear."

The wolf beastman sighs to himself, glancing away to avoid your gaze. His cheeks are starting to burn red, but he won't ever acknowledge them. "You don't get it, Prefect. Just drop the subject and leave the clothes on the bench."

It was cruel of you to even think of teasing Jack, but it isn't so often you get to opportunity. You pout at him, clutching the clothes close to your chest.

"... does my detergent stink that bad?"

Your words take him aback, almost like a heinous offense. Before you realized it, Jack had wrung the laundry from your hands and held the fabric closely to his chest. "I never said that! Don't misunderstand!" He stammers, subconsciously wringing a shirt up his neck.

Jack immediately realizes he's fallen in your trap when you smile at him knowingly. Sighing in defeat, he submits to your whims. "You... I like your scent. It gets hard to concentrate when you're..." He mumbles shyly, ears flattened as he fights the urge to bury his nose into his clothes that are now laced with your scent.

"Was this how you won that prince over? I wouldn't be surprised." He mumbles to himself in exasperation. You could only laugh softly as you approach him, rubbing small circles on his back comfortingly. "Are you implying that I won you over too?" He says nothing, silently brooding to the side in a futile attempt to keep his tail still.

You don't exactly help his case when you place a kiss on his cheek either.

[drfleetflower]

The Secret

~Requested~

Pairing: Coriolanus Snow x Reader

Summary: After divorcing his wife, Coriolanus needed someone to look after his son. You were fit for the job. Maybe too fit, as unbeknownst to him, his son had begun to call you 'mommy'.

Warnings: Angst, fluff, propaganda, Coriolanus is a little brazen towards his son, reader is referred to as 'mommy' but Coriolanus's toddler

WC: 1.6k

Scandal was the first thing on Coriolanus Snow’s mind when he decided to divorce his wife. He had thought through every possible option, any way he could avoid the judging eyes of his peers and the public. Poison was one he kept coming back to, but the ramifications of it weren’t worth the energy. Of course, it would have been more pleasant to receive condolences for the tragic passing of his wife, than to receive unwarranted opinions on their separation. Alas, another poisoning so soon would draw too much attention…

Thus, he was forced to let her live and endure the humiliation the divorce would bring. 

The second thing that crossed Coriolanus’s mind was his son. Caelius complicated the ordeal greatly, and was a main contributor to Coriolanus’s struggle in the aftermath of the divorce. He wasn’t particularly fond of children. He assumed when he had one of own his feelings would change, but it had little effect. In fact, the neediness and carelessness of the toddler infuriated him in moments. But even so, Caelius was his. His flesh and blood, his image, his. 

It was natural that he didn’t settle for joint custody, any further interaction with his ex-wife would surely drive him insane. And, as the failure of their relationship was her fault, he wouldn’t let her have the chance to ruin his relationship with his son too. 

He wasn’t completely cruel though, she got enough in their settlement to continue her life of luxury in the Capitol just no longer as the First Lady, nor with his son. She could have other children. 

So, now that Coriolanus was the sole caretaker of Caelius he needed help. The Avoxes had been somewhat helpful since Caelius arrived at the Snow Mansion, but they weren’t well versed in childcare and neither was Coriolanus. And, he was a busy man. When he wasn’t at public events and at meetings, he was in his office. Unfortunately, Caelius loved to disturb him there and practically whenever he was home. He needed someone to take the responsibility. 

That someone was you. After long and tiresome interviews, something about you impressed him. You seemed worthy of the job. And, you soon proved yourself to be. You stayed on full-time, you kept Caelius occupied and entertained, and even when Coriolanus was present you would continue to care for his son. Coriolanus found that with you around he could finally relax, and it helped that you weren’t bad company. In fact, he started to crave your presence when you weren’t around.

---

You had been working for Coriolanus Snow for almost a year. Then the problem started a few weeks ago. You weren’t sure how to address it. You thought if you ignored it, it would go away… but it didn’t. 

“Mommy!” Caelius squeaked to get your attention.

It felt cruel to correct him, but what would your employer say if he found out? The poor four year old had lost his mother to a bitter divorce. He was confused, not able to understand what had caused the sudden disappearance. He looked to you as a replacement for that piece of his heart. And, a part of you wanted to fill that hole.

From what you had heard, his mother wasn’t a good role model. She left the boy to the Avoxes to be taken care of and often questioned the president on everything from his wear to his judgement. Some even said, and you hesitated to repeat it, she was a rebel sympathizer of all things! That, it seemed, was the cause of the divorce. 

You didn’t blame President Snow for ending it after you had heard the full story. Of course, divorce is always hard, especially when you have children and you had questioned the choice due to Caelius. But you quickly determined it was much better for the boy to not have that influence in his life. Caelius needed to develop without the pressure of a mother who would inflict her dangerous beliefs upon him. You could admit that you had at least a touch of sympathy for the districts, but it could only go so far when you reminded yourself of the pain they had caused the people in the Capitol. And you believed President Snow ruled Panem as he should.

You told him as much too. When evening would roll around and Caelius was safely tucked in bed, you saw Coriolanus unwind. He couldn’t help but open up to you and your kind eyes. He couldn’t say everything he was thinking, but he could let go of a few thoughts that he wouldn’t otherwise let out. He felt close to you, emotionally and- when had he gotten so close to you?

Your breath seemed to mingle as he spoke and he abruptly stopped at the realization, taking a big step back. 

“Goodnight.” He ended the interaction, swiftly making his way to his chambers. 

You hesitated before calling, “Goodnight!” Caught off guard by the sudden dismissal of your presence. 

You stood there for a moment, too, basking in the very recent closeness and attempting to get your bearings after it was taken away.

Then, you were interrupted again by a cry from Caelius���s room. A heartbreakingly familiar cry. You sighed and made your way to the child’s room, finding him sat up with puffy eyes. “Mommy!” He cried.

“I know, sweetboy.” You consoled him, promptly sitting on the bed and holding him. “It’s alright. It was just a dream.”

“Why won’t mommy marry daddy?” Caelius pouted.

“She went away, Cael. She can’t come back.” You tried to explain.

“No! You didn’t go!” The ruckus had gotten Coriolanus to reappear.

“I’m sorry, I’m trying to calm him.” You said sincerely. 

Coriolanus sat on the bed too, taking Caelius from you. “Why won’t you marry mommy?” He kicked his feet and thrashed.

Coriolanus sighed deeply, you could tell this was not a conversation he wanted to be having. It felt too personal and you got up to leave but he stopped you. “Stay.” He said, catching your hand. He let go almost immediately though, unfortunately. “... He’ll be calmer with you here.” Coriolanus excused his action.

Of course, you obliged.

“We’ve talked about this, Caelius.” He attempted a measured tone. “Your mother isn’t coming back. She’s proven to be bad for you. You’re stronger without her.”

It seemed an odd approach but you didn’t dare interject. 

He looked at you, trying to appoint Caelius’s attention on you too. “Look, you have a new… person in your life, hm? You like them.” 

This only seemed to rile Caelius up more, causing him to whine.

“Use your words, Caelius.” Coriolanus said firmly.

“Don’t want past mommy!” He said, frustration now mixed into his lisp.

“Right.” Coriolanus nodded once. “What do you want?”

“Mommy!”

Coriolanus rolled his eyes away from Caelius, clearly not understanding him. But you had begun to. You knew something he didn’t. Something you really didn’t want Coriolanus to find out, and definitely not like this.

“Here, I’ll try telling him a story. You don’t have to worry about it.” You offer.

“No, I must see this through. He’s my son, he should know the truth.” Coriolanus insisted. 

One thing you were forbidden to mention to Caelius, and why you had some sympathy for his ex-wife, even if she was foolish to side with the districts, was that Caelius’s mother had passed. She suffered an early heart attack only a few months ago and you were never one to speak ill of the dead. It was a truly terrible tragedy. And, you didn’t believe now was the right time to tell Caelius when you knew he wasn’t even talking about her. But you.

“Coriolanus-” You began.

“Your mother is dead, Caelius. The rebels snatched her into their clutches and her heart couldn’t take the stress. She’s not coming back even if I wanted her to.” He stated, bluntly.

Caelius simply blinked for a few moments, tears still rolling down his cheeks, before he began to squirm again. “Mommy!” He reached for you.

At this point Coriolanus let him go to you, still unaware about the correlation between Caelius’s words and who they were directed toward. That is, he was very briefly unaware because once Caelius was in your arms he looked right up at you and asked again, “Why won’t you marry daddy?” 

You laughed nervously, harshly avoiding eye contact with Coriolanus. “You’re confused, Caelius. Let’s go to bed, yes?”

Coriolanus would not excuse this. “Would you point to your ‘mommy’, Caelius?” He asked.

Of course, Caelius pointed to you. 

You looked between the boy and Coriolanus, waiting for a reaction. It was quiet for what felt like a long moment before you got one. Coriolanus smiled softly. 

“You think I should marry Y/n?” He asked Caelius surprisingly softly.

“Mommy.” Caelius nodded, sniffling.

“Hm.” He hummed like he was pondering the idea. “I think so too.” 

You felt your heartbeat in your entire body, eyes wide, hands clammy, and you laughed again because he had to be joking.

“What do you say, Y/n? Y/n Snow does have a nice ring to it.” He was not joking.

You struggled to answer.

“Wait, we can postpone. I’ll arrange everything first. Then you can say yes properly.” He determines before looking at Caelius. “Happy now?” 

Caelius let a little smile cross his lips and then began giggling and squealing when Coriolanus tickled him. You watched the scene in shock, still trying to process everything that just happened. Then Caelius tried his best to tickle you with Coriolanus joining in, his hands feeling right at home on your sides, and you succumbed to the moment, joining in on the fight.

[chheolie]

i think you might be a little disappointed that they are divorced, so here is the second part

it was a quiet morning, and the sun had barely risen on the horizon when you grabbed your phone to check the messages. as you swiped the screen, one notification caught your attention: "reminder: trip to the beach house - d/n’s birthday." your heart tightened as you read those words. the beach house had always been a special place, full of happy memories, but it also held painful ones, especially from the last trip where you and seungcheol were together as a couple. it was there that your relationship came to an end.

even so, you knew that this trip was important, especially for your daughter, who loved that place more than anywhere else. with a deep sigh, you decided to send a message to seungcheol, something you had been putting off for days, fearing what he might say.

"are you going on the trip?" you wrote, hesitantly, feeling the weight of uncertainty in your words.

minutes that felt like hours passed before his reply arrived. when the phone vibrated, you opened the message with a nervousness you couldn’t hide.

"yes, it’s important for her." his words were direct, but they carried a responsibility that both of you shared. although your marriage had ended, the love for your daughter continued to bind you together in an unbreakable way.

on the day of the trip, seungcheol arrived at your house to pick you up. your daughter, as excited as always, ran into her father’s arms with contagious joy. her smile upon seeing him left no doubt that this trip meant a lot to her. as you watched the scene, a mix of emotions washed over you. it was good to see them together, but his presence always brought back memories of what you had lost.

during the drive to the beach house, the atmosphere in the car was strange. your daughter talked nonstop, excited about the weekend plans, but you and seungcheol barely exchanged words. it was hard to ignore the weight of the past, especially knowing that the last time you were at that house as a family was also when you decided to go your separate ways.

when you finally arrived, your daughter ran inside the house, exploring each room as if it was her first time there. for her, that place would always be magical, full of good memories. you and seungcheol began unloading the car in silence, exchanging brief and uncomfortable glances. neither of you knew quite how to act. the silence was almost suffocating, and both seemed hesitant to say anything that might open old wounds.

the next morning, you woke up early, with the first rays of sunlight gently illuminating the house. there was a quiet stillness in the air, broken only by the soft sound of the waves. as you stepped out of the bedroom, you found seungcheol already awake, sitting on the porch with a cup of coffee in his hands. he seemed thoughtful, lost in his own thoughts. for a moment, you considered going back to the bedroom, but you decided to join him, feeling that perhaps it was the right time to talk about what you both had been avoiding for so long.

sitting beside him, you felt the weight of the silence between you, but also a strange sense of peace. the smell of coffee mixed with the salty sea breeze, creating a nostalgic atmosphere. it was then that memories of the last trip came flooding back. you looked out at the horizon, trying to find the right words.

"it was here that everything fell apart, wasn’t it?" your voice came out low, almost fearful, as if reliving that moment could bring back all the pain you had worked so hard to overcome.

seungcheol sighed deeply, without taking his eyes off the sea. "yes, it was here. and i still think about that day, about the things i could have done differently. not a day goes by without me asking myself where exactly things started to go wrong."

his words hit you in a way you didn’t expect. there was so much regret in his voice, a pain that mirrored your own. "i think about that too... about how everything could have been different. but i think that at the time, we were both so lost, trying to find our own way, that we ended up drifting apart. i felt so alone, even when you were around. like there was an invisible barrier between us."

he turned to you, his eyes showing a vulnerability he rarely let show. "i never wanted to make you feel that way, y/n. but i was so focused on work, on fulfilling all the responsibilities, that i ended up losing you in the process. i didn’t know how to handle the pressure, and it destroyed us."

before the conversation could deepen further, the soft sound of footsteps coming from the bedroom interrupted the moment. your daughter had woken up, bringing with her the vibrant energy of a child full of expectations for the day. seungcheol stood up with a smile, offering to take her for a walk while you stayed home, resting and processing everything that had been said.

hours later, when seungcheol and your daughter returned, you greeted them with a smile, noticing that they were carrying bags of food. your daughter ran up to you, her eyes shining with excitement. "mommy! look what we brought! we got your favorite dessert!" she exclaimed, barely able to contain her excitement.

you looked at seungcheol, who gave you a knowing smile, and felt a lump form in your throat. that simple gesture, but full of care, moved you in a way you didn’t expect. for a moment, all the repressed emotions came to the surface, and you found yourself struggling to hold back the tears. but it was useless. the tears began to fall, and you tried to disguise it, smiling at your daughter so she wouldn’t notice.

seungcheol noticed immediately and approached, concerned. "hey, are you okay?" he asked softly, his voice full of care as he reached out to hold your hand.

you nodded, though your voice faltered as you tried to respond. "yes... it’s just that... this means a lot to me. you both mean a lot to me."

he gently squeezed your hand, his eyes fixed on yours as if he wanted to say something but was choosing his words carefully. the moment was delicate, full of unspoken emotions and feelings that you both were trying to process.

the afternoon unfolded in a series of joyful and simple moments. you cooked together, played on the beach, and for a moment, everything felt like it used to. your daughter’s laughter echoed through the house, and you felt that maybe, just maybe, the weight of the past was finally starting to lift. the atmosphere was light, and it was hard to believe that just a few hours ago, you were so nervous about spending the weekend with him.

when the evening came, you prepared the small birthday party with all the love you could muster. your daughter was radiant, and the house was filled with laughter and music. the table was loaded with sweets and snacks that you had prepared together, and the cake, decorated in her favorite colors, sat in the center, waiting to be cut.

you sang "happy birthday," and the smile on your daughter’s face as she blew out the candles was the highlight of the night. she closed her eyes tightly, making a wish, and then, with a determined puff, blew out the candles. the applause and cheers of "hurray!" echoed through the house, and for a moment, everything seemed perfect. you and seungcheol exchanged glances during the celebration, and there was something in his eyes that you hadn’t seen in a long time—tenderness and affection that warmed your heart.

after dinner, with full bellies and light hearts, your daughter finally began to show signs of fatigue. she yawned and rubbed her eyes, making you and seungcheol laugh. "i think it’s time for bed, little one," you said softly, as you picked her up, feeling the comforting weight of her against your chest.

seungcheol followed you to her room, where you both tucked her into bed. she snuggled into the blankets, the smile still present on her lips. "it was the best birthday ever," she murmured before closing her eyes and falling asleep. you both stood there in silence for a moment, watching her sleep, both feeling a mix of emotions—love, nostalgia, and something more, something that was bringing you closer again.

when you left the room, the silence that followed was filled with tension, but it wasn’t a bad tension. it was a tension full of possibilities, of things left unsaid. seungcheol closed the door softly, then turned to you. "she was so happy today. thank you for this, y/n."

"i was happy too, cheol," you replied, the nickname slipping out before you could stop it. he had always been "cheol" to you, and in that moment, it felt natural to call him that again.

he smiled, a smile that warmed something inside you. "i missed you," he admitted, his voice low and sincere. "not just because of our daughter, but... you. i missed us."

his words hung in the air, and you knew the moment had come. everything that had been repressed, all the unspoken words and hidden emotions, began to surface. "i missed you too," you confessed, your voice shaky. "but i was so scared, seungcheol... scared that we’d make the same mistakes again."

he took a step towards you, stopping just inches away. "i know i made mistakes, and i’m sorry for all of them. but i never stopped loving you, not for a second. and today, seeing our daughter so happy, here with you... i realized there’s still something between us, something that might be worth fighting for."

you felt your heart race at his words, at the way he was looking at you with such intensity. "are you saying... you want to try again?"

"yes," he whispered, reaching out to gently cup your face. "i want to try again. i want to be a family again. if you still want that too."

tears welled up in your eyes as you nodded, unable to speak. instead, you closed the distance between you, leaning in until your lips met his. the kiss was soft, tentative, but it held the promise of so much more—a new beginning, a second chance. your bodies molded to one another with an ease that felt natural, as if all the scars and distances between you had never existed.

seungcheol pulled you closer, his hands firmly gripping your waist, and you found yourself sinking into that familiar, comforting feeling where the world around you ceased to matter. the warmth of your bodies, the feel of his touch against your skin, all of it stirred memories of times before the divorce, when you were inseparable, when the problems had not yet overshadowed the love you shared.

as the kiss deepened, the passion between the two of you reignited in an almost desperate way, as if you were trying to make up for all the lost time. seungcheol's hands traveled up your back, exploring every curve he knew so well, while you held his face, feeling the softness of his skin under your fingers. there was an urgency in his movements, as if he were trying to imprint himself in your memory, and you felt the same desire to make him understand just how much he still meant to you.

when you finally pulled apart, both of you were breathless, but neither of you moved away. seungcheol rested his forehead against yours, his eyes closed, while his fingers remained tangled in your hair. the silence between the two of you was filled with rapid breaths and the sound of hearts beating in unison, as if both of you were trying to absorb what had just happened.

"i love you, y/n. i always have," he whispered, his voice husky with emotion, the truth of his words echoing in the space between you.

you felt tears welling up again, but this time they were not of sadness, but of relief, of a renewed hope seeping into your heart. "i love you too, seungcheol. i always have. but i need to know that we won't lose ourselves again."

he opened his eyes, and what you saw there was a determination you had never seen before. his eyes, dark and intense, showed the depth of what he was feeling, the gravity of the moment. "we won't, y/n," he promised, his voice low but filled with conviction. "we'll do this right, together. for us and for our daughter. i won't let you fall again."

the intensity of his declaration made your heart pound harder. you were there, in a vulnerable place, but it was exactly what you both needed—to remember how perfectly you fit, how you were made for each other, and how, despite everything, that love still existed and was strong enough to survive.

the night continued, not with more words, but with gestures. you both let the feelings speak for themselves, rediscovering each other slowly and carefully. seungcheol's hands traced your contours as if he were rediscovering familiar territory, and at the same time, something entirely new. each touch, each caress, reignited something within you both, an old desire that had never disappeared, only lain dormant.

the intimacy between you was familiar, but there was a new layer of depth, an understanding that both of you had changed and grown, and that now you were ready to try again. the walls you had built, the hurts of the past, all seemed to vanish as you gave yourselves to one another.

when you finally nestled in bed, with seungcheol's arms firmly around you, something inside you settled. his chest was the safe haven you had lost, the place where all your fears and uncertainties seemed to disappear. the past was there, yes, but the future seemed brighter than ever, as if all the broken pieces were finally falling into place.

for the first time in a long while, you allowed yourself to believe that everything would be alright. seungcheol was by your side, and you knew that together, you could overcome anything. he kissed your forehead softly, and the warmth of his touch was the confirmation that this was where you had always meant to be.

i think you would like to be informed that the second part is available. thank you for your support and patience, by the way. ( @kkkthrn @coupsbestleader @minhui896 @bouclesdefeu @lanatheawesome )

[coco-loco-nut]

loml part 2

pairing: charles leclerc x reader

summary: it’s time for you to finally have some happiness, even if you’ve sworn off drivers

part one masterlist ttpd masterlist

——————

A year after the break up, you are still living in George’s Monaco apartment. You keep to yourself, sticking to a simple routine and avoiding Formula One when you can. You could’ve gotten your own apartment with the divorce settlement and your job salary, but George insisted that you take care of the apartment for him.

George and Carmen were with you every step of the way, helping you pick up the pieces and bringing you back to as close to normal as you can.

“I’m done with drivers, I will never date one ever again,” you tell George one afternoon. George was almost offended but you added on the second half.

You go out for a run like you do every morning before work, and on your way home you stop in a bakery you’ve been eyeing. After placing your coffee and pasty order, you accidentally bump into someone.

“I am so sorry, I- Charles. Hi,” you look at the equally stunned man.

“Hi, how are you doing,” Charles says gently, sounding concerned. That isn’t what you expected out of your ex’s friend.

“Better, how’s, um, how is he?” you ask a little bitterly, internally cringing at the clear discomfort on Charles’s face. His name is called alongside yours, so he picks it up and sets it on a table, silently inviting you to join him, and you do.

“I don’t know. After the whole Kelly thing, I argued with him and we haven’t really talked since,” Charles admits, you look stunned.

“I’m sorry that happened,” you can’t really hide your bitter expression as the thought of Kelly runs through your mind. Not even a month after you separated, Max was off playing happy family with his new girlfriend. Your divorce wasn’t even legalized yet.

“I’m not. He lost someone incredible just because he wasn’t willing to put in the work for a good and healthy relationship,” Charles looks you in the eyes. You finish your pastry and process his words and his underlying meaning.

“Charles, everything is still so fresh, I don’t know,” you look out at the streets. You couldn’t deny he was attractive, but you didn’t want to reinvolve yourself with Formula One.

“One date, we can take it as slow as you want to. I know it must be hard, but you deserve to be happy,” Charles reaches out and touches your hand gently.

“I have to get to work. You should have my number, Charles,” you softly smile, leaving the cafe. Charles lets out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. Naturally, he asked George for permission first. He knew George was acting as your overprotective brother, and George knew you better than anyone at the moment. Despite you swearing off drivers, George felt that Charles might be what you need.

The first date goes well, and so does the second, and the third. Charles prioritized privacy, and you were grateful. He shows up to your door for the fourth with a bouquet of your favorite flowers, ones that Max always forgot to get. He always gave you chrysanthemums, fitting that he would choose a funeral flower seeing as how he killed the relationship.

“Cheri, are you okay?” Charles asks, seeing you tear up a little.

“Max never did this, and when he did they were always the wrong flowers,” you shake you head slightly, fending off the anger and sadness.

“Well, if he wanted to treat your right, he would. I want to treat you right,” Charles presses a kiss to your head. You invite him in while you find a vase to put the flowers in.

“I want that,” you tell him, his hands find yours.

“Be my girlfriend?” Charles asks, you nod happily.

“There is this restaurant that I’ve been wanting to try, down the street. Maybe I can take my boyfriend there,” you smile, heart racing.

“Lead the way, mon cœur,” Charles tells you. You lock the apartment behind you and take his hand as you lead him down the street to a restaurant that opened a couple months ago. The two of you are so caught up in each other, you don’t notice the table across the restaurant.

Max watches you walk into the restaurant, hand in hand with Charles - the guy who used to be one of his closest friends. You look stunning, and happier than you were the last few months before the separation. Of course Max saw you for divorce meetings, but this is different.

“Max is here,” you quietly tell Charles.

“Don’t worry about him, he won’t cause a scene,” Charles reassures you, knowing his old friend. You are grateful for the man sitting across from you.

“What did I do to deserve you?” you ask, causing Charles’s hear to soar. can’t believe he is finally happy.

Charles is by your side during the rough days, especially the day that should’ve been your wedding anniversary with Max. You couldn’t help but to be upset, and healing takes time. Charles didn’t push you to do anything, he just kept you company and followed your lead.

When you were together for six months, you felt comfortable enough to reintroduce yourself to Charles’s friends and family. It helps that the two of you adopted a dog.

“These are my sons, Ollie and Oscar,” Charles tells you as you stand in the kitchen, watching over the dinner you had been working on. He would’ve invited Liam, but that would be awkward for everyone.

“It’s lovely to meet you, I’m Y/n. I suspect you know Leo from social media. Would either of you like wine, or anything from the fridge? Please, help yourself,” you stop yourself from fussing. Charles recognizes it as your hormones kicking in, making you fuss over them.

“Thank you, need any help?” Ollie asks as Oscar plays with Leo.

“Thank you, but you are a guest. I couldn’t let you. Now, I think Charles has a really expensive bottle that will pair well with this meal, let me grab it and pour a couple glasses,” you wink.

“Only the best for you and the kids, Cheri,” Charles yells from the dining room where he is setting the table. Ollie takes the glass you poured for him, he wouldn’t mind you being his grid mom.

“Charles, come help me bring food in while the boys sit down,” you tell him, giving Oscar and Ollie a little glare when the move to help you.

“Of course, mon cœur,” Charles smiles, carrying the heavier plates in while you grab the wine bottle and the two empty glasses for you and Charles.

The two boys try to make sure they don’t come off as interrogating you, but you don’t mind. They are avoiding the elephant in the room, and both you and Charles know it.

“You can ask, I don’t mind,” you say gently, knowing it’s eating Oscar alive. He’s like you and George if you two had an idgaf attitude.

“Is it true that you and Max, um,” Oscar pauses looking for the words.

“Yeah, he’s my ex-husband. He did me a favor though, without him I wouldn’t be with Charlie,” you look adoringly at your boyfriend.

“Ask George and Carmen, they will give you the best version of the story,” Charles laughs and so do you.

“This is really good, I might need you to cook after races for me,” Ollie changes to topic, groaning a little at how full he is.

“She’s our mom, of course it’s good,” Oscar replies, you can’t fight the grin on your face.

“Of course I will. I can send some frozen meals for you to heat up along to the with Charles,” you tell them.

“Or you could come to the races and keep me company,” Ollie says, looking at you hopefully. You are one hundred percent adopting him. Charles looks at you a little panicked, you never really talked about being in the paddock as his girlfriend. Of course, he has publicly talked about how he has a girlfriend who he adores, but no one knows it’s you, except for a few people.

Max never told anyone about your relationship, despite him seeing your date and reporters asking him about you. It would be an asshole thing to do after he moved on so quick, and you deserved better than what he had done to you already.

“I’d love to, but don’t regret it when you are being mothered,” you point your fork at them.

“Wait, why only Ferrari,” Oscar pouts.

“I can visit you too, I’ll even bring cookies,” you tell Oscar. He pumps his fist in celebration.

Charles is happy to hear you are okay going to races again. You have to be a little stealthy about it at the start. You go the first couple times as George’s guest, and slowly increase how long you are with Charles each time.

Things change when you miss your period. You and Charles have always been very careful, but there have been a couple time that you forgot a condom.

“What does it say, mon cœur?” Charles sits beside you in bed, rubbing soft circles on your shoulder. You take a shakey breath and turn the stick over, ready to be shown another negative.

“Positive, I’m pregnant. I thought I couldn’t have kids,” you feel Charles brush tears from your cheeks.

“We will be the best parents, I’m so happy,”he reassures you, and you can see how happy he is. From then on you go as Charles’s partner, Ollie is happy to have you with him in the garage, and even accompanies you to visit Oscar. Ollie claimed it was to protect you and the baby against Max, but that doesn’t work when Max is talking to Lando at the same time you visit Oscar.

“Hey, how are you doing?” Max asks a little hesitatily.

“I’m really well, how are you?” you ask, pushing down the bitter parts of you. You truly are very happy now.

“I’m okay. Do you think we could talk at some point this weekend? I think it’s been long enough and you deserve closure for yourself,” Max scratches the back of his head.

“Message me on Instagram. We can find a time,” you agree, needing to get a couple things off your chest. That time is the next morning in an open room in Red Bull hospitality.

“You wanted to talk,” you say as you sit down across from Max. Charles was apprehensive when you told him of your plan, but he trusted you and was supportive of your choice.

“I wanted to apologize for how I treated you at the end, it was unfair to you,” Max tells you, clearly pushing through his pride. “So, I’m sorry. I can’t say it’s easy seeing you happy with someone who isn’t me. Are you happy?” Max asks, needing to know.

“Of course I am. It was really hard to move on. Charlie makes me extremely happy, and he’s given me the greatest gift I could ask for,” you smile, subconsciously putting a hand on your stomach. Max feels his stomach swirl with jealousy. Charles is living the life he should be living, Charles is doing everything he should be doing for you, but he fucked it all up.

“I, uh, wow. Congratulations, I know how much you wanted a kid. I’m happy for you, schatje,” Max says, pushing down his jealousy. It’s his fault he lost you, now he has to live with the consequences and be mature about it. Maybe if he hadn’t gotten with Kelly so soon he would be with you, but it’s too late now.

Max did try. He constantly asked George where you were, or to convince you to talk to him. George was protective though, he saw how hurt you were and knew you needed to heal on your own time. So he did what any overprotective best friend would do, talk reasonably and show Max why he needed to stay away.

“Thanks, Maxie, that means a lot,” Maxie, a dagger through Max’s heart. “I can’t be friends with you right now, but maybe someday. I like this version of you, maybe Kelly was the right one for you after all,” you can see the pain in Max’s somber eyes, the same one you see from the end of your relationship, and the same one that haunts you.

“I really am sorry,” Max’s voice cracks. “You’re the love and loss of my life,” tears well in his eyes as he looks at you.

“You’re the loss of mine as well,” you stand up and move towards him, pulling him into a hug. “You are going to be okay, Max. We weren’t right for each other, but now you can move on,” you say softly. In your heart you can feel the closure you’ve needed. Max felt it too, and when the day came, he would be ready to be a good friend.

Until that day, he is publicly supportive of your family with Charles. Max repairs his relationship with Charles first, then he slowly repairs it with you. When Julianna Herveline Leclerc graced the world, he was one of the first people to send a gift and well wishes. And when you and Charles finally make it to the alter, Max is standing beside Charles, happy to support the two of you.

[bouquetface]

Vedic Astro Observations

Accuracy influenced by the ENTIRE chart. it's a terrible idea to judge a chart based on one placement.

⭐️ 8th H Ruler in 2nd H - this indicates sudden ups and/or downs in wealth. transits can trigger the ups or downs as well as bhukti of your dasha period. for example:

Aries 8th H - Ruler Mars in 2nd H conjunct Venus - When you have a Venus or Mars bhukti period, you can experience ups or downs based on how well the planets are placed in natal.

⭐️ The sign opposite your Moon sign can add to information about your spouse's personality.

This is more like the actual personality of the spouse rather than what you desire. For example:

Sag Moon - The spouse could be younger. They are likely social. They can be scatterbrained. They can be quick thinking and moving. They may fidget a lot.

This is only one method. The entire chart would need to be checked for full accuracy.

⭐️ Dasha periods activate certain placements in your chart. You may not relate to a placement at all until it is activated. Depending on your entire chart, you may not be meant to experience that placement fully until your 60s.

The dasha and bhukti of the planet that opposites 7th H ruler, 7th H or the DK planets can be the year you break up or divorce.

⭐️ Saturn conjunct Moon or 4th House Lord AND Maleific 6th House ruler in 4th Houe indicates early death of a family member.

⭐️ Life Path 1 + Life Path 9 tend to have negative experiences with one another. Personal synastry can change this entirely. However a common theme I've observed in the relationships (romantic, platonic and a few family relations) between 1s and 9s is...

Generally, 9s are believed to be older souls. And 1s are younger. 1s and 9s on a deeper level do not seek or value the same things and experiences.

9s can be arrogant as they can unconsciously look down on younger souls such as 1s. 9s have likely experienced what life path 1 seeks out in this life. 9 can be extremely helpful as their soul can offer guidance making the other's journey much easier.

However, 1s are meant to take control and earn leadership positions in this life. 9s are meant to seek higher experience and knowledge. Both 9s and 1s have specific life mission's that require them to go alone. When they do get along, in the long-term I've noticed life tends to throw obstacles their way to separate them.

Personal synastry can heavily influence the above.

⭐️ Moon in 6th House are very sensitive. Depending on the sign, they can hide or be open about this side of themselves. When in air or water, I've noticed many tend to avoid competitive activities and people.

⭐️ 7th House ruler in 9th doesn't always give a foreign or educated spouse. That is a very generic analysis of this placement. Stronger placements can change this - most commonly I see if the 7th ruling planet falls in cancer and/or 9th ruler is in 4th h and/or DK is in 4th H or Cancer the spouse is someone who grew up nearby and it is likely they have the same level of education as you.

[movingthisblogcelestialtarot11]

Astro observations 🤍🐚

back with another astro post part 1000 (i dont remember how much its been) 😭 anyways yall, please enjoy and feel free to share your thoughts always! I had to go in deep with this one 👀 you know, its astrology

divider creds: @fairytopea

Venus conj. Saturn has been the biggest lesson for me in love. In the connection often with this placement, the venus person clings to affection and love in a codependent way. The saturn person may withdraw & avoid romance altogether, creating an unstable dynamic. Venus person eventually learns their self worth is much more than having to convince someone why they should stay with them :/

That being said so much has been learned from this synastry. I truly became a better person and decided who was right for me, and who wasn’t. It broke my heart but fixed my vision! 

Someone I know has someone else’s mars in her 12h. This manifested as instant attraction even though she was repulsed by him. She couldn’t explain why she felt this way. Its possible mars 12h can bring out what we feel interest in, despite our shame and guilt towards it. It often has to do with our trauma and being drawn to things we know initially aren’t good for us. Which begs the question: why? And thats where the healing begins.

To also add she had her Lilith conj his sun, which definitely brought out an impulse to explore what she thought was off putting. Lilith can make us go deep into our trauma and transform our beliefs from then to now. With the sun it makes sense her beliefs are shifting especially in relationships. Her source of power was repressed due to her trauma, but now this synastry could be a way to regain it.

So random but are Taurus/Libra males more likely to be uncircumcised 😭 #sorry just had to put the thought out there

Jupiter in virgo male can be great listeners and conversationalists. It can also make them cunning, sly and manipulative with their word. With what kind of information they choose to let out at the time.

Chiron in the 4h and not living with stable parents 🤝 trauma. This guy I know has this placement and does not live with his parents, he lives with his grandparents due to the instability in his home life. His mother currently has a boyfriend. Chiron in the 4h can make an individual experience lack of stable family connections at a young age. It can also represent a separation or divorce in the family, or even the native being kicked out or homeless at some point in their lives.

Mercury in Aries and either going from being super blunt and dry, to spilling everything on their mind no shame. A guy with this placement was very dry, enunciating every word he could to be “masculine.” This was his attempt at projecting a dominant figure, as he lacked for it physically (#this is an astro post sorry i gotta get in there) I feel like mercury in Aries could manifest as sounding boastful, arrogant and pretentious. Especially if they don’t have a high self esteem. But the other side of it: mercury in aries can spill everything personal of themselves lacking boundaries.

Gemini Lilith natives know exactly what to say and how to say it. They are efficient with their word and thoughts. Precise and intelligent. Once empowered they acknowledge the importance of words and communication, but if not they can manipulate, lie to their benefit, and distort information to hide the truth. Empowered Lilith knows to honor all perspectives and feelings.

Also gemini lilith is multifaceted. Bring up a topic and gemini lilith can easily talk about it, even if you didn’t expect to know of it. They are tenacious individuals who love to learn more, and question everything presented to them!

Depending on other aspects and placements but women with Capricorn placements and plutonian aspects in their chart are more likely to have a grunge, dark moody vibe to their outfits. Even their vibe is unmatched. There’s a woodsy, whimsical yet dark vibe to them you can’t fully describe or place. Especially if they have venus touching pluto those women tend to go for a moody, gloomy yet striking appearance! They may also prefer whimsical softer styles, and one day switch to a darker vibe to change things up. Venus=fashion. As a result of pluto cap women may go through many different styles and changes in order to find what suits them. And even then, cap women love to explore with their look! They shed their old skin to make room for more.

Taurus Venus men & Libra men I notice tend to be extreme in their looks. Some prefer their real body, not altered by surgery. This can go extreme in one way: do everything naturally to their body but expect crazy results. High expectations. And some of them prefer perfection as well and go for surgery. They want to be symmetrical, flawless, and yet convey this, “effortless,” look. Not overdone but just right. And it can manifest into something unhealthy by wanting to look perfect all of the time. Taurus/libra men can be hard on themselves physically to fit a standard or stereotype.

Meanwhile Capricorn men want to convey this minimalistic, daddy energy. 😭. Not sorry. Some of ya’ll actually dress like dads though. Capricorn men always try to look put together, simple, yet there’s a sense of luxury to them. Depending on their other aspects/placements to Venus, they can give off a warm vibe. For example someone who was my childhood bestie dresses like a dad but gives off dork energy, because he has Aquarius stellium and Sagittarius placements as well. So it really depends on the venus aspects!

Libra dominant men are the type to go from couch potato to hot millennial business dad for an event. The type to get you drooling. The type to catch you off guard when you least expect it. The type you’d probably roll your eyes at when they say they’ll actually dress up, and when they do you’re stuck for words.

Capricorn women and their playlist 🤝 comfort. The only thing that truly understands them deeply. The only thing they find themselves getting lost in rather than getting lost in a person. Because losing themselves to a person is much more disgraceful to them, than getting lost in something they put together themselves.

“I’d rather lose myself in the hands of something I made, flesh and bone than to give you my dignity, my vulnerability, my guilt.” -me, a cap moon probably.

Thanks so much y’all for reading! I really hope ya’ll enjoyed this. Please always share your feedback, I love to engage and hear it! You can also send asks my way if that works! 🤍 have a great one.

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