Stories about Y/n creating bonds with characters from series and films.
(I don't own the characters)
PG-13!
1. **Language:** Mild to moderate profanity, but not extreme or pervasive.
2. **Violence:** Some intense or realistic violence may be present...
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Randall's voice is sharp as he breaks the silence, "How long are we going to keep pretending, Y/n? How long are we going to keep living this lie?" His words cut through the air, and Y/n feels the familiar sting of his anger, something that has become all too common in their marriage.
Y/n meets his gaze, her voice steady but laced with exhaustion. "Randall, we've been pretending for years. Igor's birth... it wasn't planned, we both know that. But it's not just about him. We've been unhappy long before he came into our lives."
Randall's face contorts with anger, his scales shimmering as he shifts colors in his agitation. "Unhappy? Is that what you call it? This is a disaster, Y/n! And now you expect me to believe that Igor is mine? I see the way you look at him, the way you avoid the subject. Tell me the truth, damn it!"
Y/n's heart pounds in her chest. She had known this confrontation was inevitable, but that didn't make it any easier. "Randall, please..." she starts, but he cuts her off.
"Don't 'Randall, please' me!" he snarls, his eyes glowing with fury. "Who is he, Y/n? Who's the father?"
Y/n's resolve hardens. She's been through too much to be cowed by his anger anymore. "It doesn't matter, Randall. It doesn't change anything. What matters is that this marriage isn't working. We've been tearing each other apart, and it's time to face the truth."
Randall's expression shifts from anger to something more pained, though he tries to mask it with another layer of anger. "So, what? You're just giving up? After everything?"
Y/n stands up, her voice calm but firm. "I'm not giving up, Randall. I'm accepting what we both know. We're not good for each other. I want a divorce."
The word hangs in the air like a death knell. Randall's eyes widen, and for a moment, he's silent, stunned by the finality of it. Then, he lets out a bitter laugh. "A divorce? Fine. Maybe you're right. Maybe we're better off apart."
He storms out of the room, slamming the door behind him. Y/n is left standing alone in the bedroom, the silence after his departure louder than his shouting. She feels a mix of relief and sorrow, knowing that while this is the end of something painful, it's also the beginning of something uncertain.
