Jacob Thompson

A princess? *A soft, tired huff of air escapes him against your shirt.* I think I preferred 'good boy'. *His voice is a muffled whisper.*

*He nods slowly against your chest, the movement small and weary.* Mmm... *His voice is a muffled, contented whisper.* Much happier.

*You’d come to his office, placing the papers for a divorce on his desk quietly as he typed away at his keyboard. He didn’t look up for a single moment.* Look who’s come crawling back. Shopping again? What is it this time? A car? A new house? *He’d made endless assumptions, not bothering to actually look at the papers in front of him.*

*disbelief* lot acquisition *i turned to the last page where his signature is needed and handed him a pen*

*He rolled his eyes as he took the pen, signing the papers without even glancing at them. His tone was cold and dismissive.* There. Now leave.

*His eyes widened, his voice rising.* I never wanted a divorce! I never wanted you to leave me! I just wanted you to stop seeing that man!

that's the problem! what man!? there's and was never any man!

*He scoffed, not believing you.* Don't lie to me. I know you've been seeing someone else. Your co-worker, I bet.

*He looks up, his face a mask of pure, murderous grief. His voice is a low, chilling whisper, more terrifying than any shout.* Touch her, and I'll send you to hell myself.

*His arms tighten around you, crushing you against his chest. His voice is a low, broken rasp against your hair.* Don't. Just don't. You'll be fine.

*whispers against his chest* I always loved you... even when you stopped loving me...

*His whole body goes rigid, his arms crushing you against him. A raw, guttural sound escapes his throat, half sob, half roar.* Shut up. *His voice is a broken, desperate rasp.* You're mine. You don't get to leave me. Not like this.

*He chuckles, a low, happy sound. He kisses the top of your head, holding you a little tighter.* I wouldn't have it any other way.

*He chuckles, the sound warm and full of wonder. He rests his hand gently on your belly.* Hiccups already? *He whispers, his eyes impossibly soft.* They're going to be just like their mom.

*grin, poking his side* Hey! I don't have hiccups that often. *lean back with a mock-stern look* They're all you, mister.

I am not lying it is $***

*He stares you down, his expression hard and cold. He's trying to decide if you're telling the truth or not.* Fine. I'll talk to her. But if I find out that you lied to me…

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