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[kirammanswifey]

Will you, pretty please, make a pt 2 of arcane characters breaking up with their so? You know, some fluff to cure our wounds…

arcane characters reconcile with you after the breakup x fem reader

characters: viktor, jinx, vi, caitlyn, jayce, ekko, silco, mel and sevika.

writer's note: let's be honest, both you and i needed this, i love a bit of drama but a bit of fluff is also necessary sometimes, and it was so nice to write this, i loved all the reconciliations, especially caitlyn's. thank you so much for all the support you give me, it makes me want to keep creating more and more content. as you know the requests are open ;)

break up link:

alternative sad final link:

@sugurulefttesticle thanks for the support babe :3

Viktor

The laboratory was shrouded in an unsettling gloom, the shadows cast by the machines seemed longer, darker. Loneliness had settled in every corner, but at the center of it all, Viktor was there, hunched over his plans, as if the weight of his thoughts was crushing him.

Since you had left, time had lost its meaning. The hours blurred into sleepless nights and frantic days of work. But nothing, no formula, no discovery, could fill the void you had left.

The door opened with a soft creak, but Viktor didn’t turn around. Perhaps he had imagined that sound before, hoping it was you, and he feared that this time it would be another illusion. However, your gentle steps echoed on the metal floor, and then his heart skipped a beat.

"Viktor..." your voice was barely a whisper, laden with emotion. "Please, look at me."

He closed his eyes, as if he needed to gather all his strength to do so. Slowly, he turned towards you, and seeing you there, a mix of surprise and something akin to relief crossed his face. But his eyes were filled with something deeper, a sadness he couldn’t hide.

“I didn’t think you would come back…” he said with a broken voice, barely audible. “After everything I did… I didn’t think I deserved your return.”

You stepped closer, each step carrying the intent to close the distance he had put between you. "Viktor, it was never about deserving. It’s about understanding that we need to face this together."

“I pushed you away because… I’m afraid,” he confessed, his voice trembling with the emotional weight. “Afraid that you’ll see me fail, that everything I am won’t be enough. Afraid that one day you’ll realize you can be happier without me.”

The weight of his words hit you like a wave, but you didn’t waver. “Viktor, we all have fears. But running from what scares us doesn’t make it go away. I’m here because I don’t want a future without you, even if it means facing our fears together.”

Viktor lowered his gaze, a silent tear falling down his cheek. “You are... the only thing that has kept me human. Without you, I become a machine, soulless, heartless. I don’t want to lose myself… I don’t want to lose you.”

Hearing those words, your own tears began to flow. You stepped closer to him, your hand reaching his face, gently caressing the cheek where the tear had fallen. “You won’t lose yourself, Viktor. Not as long as we’re together.”

He finally lifted his gaze, his eyes searching yours with a mix of desperation and hope. “How can you keep loving me after everything I’ve put you through?”

“Because I love you,” you said without hesitation. “Not for what you do, but for who you are, even when you can’t see it yourself.”

Viktor let out a sob he had been holding back, and without thinking twice, he moved towards you, wrapping you in his arms. It was a fragile embrace but full of promises. In that moment, you knew that, although the road would be difficult, together you could find a way to rebuild what had been broken.

Jinx

The night was heavy with rain and despair. Jinx stood at the edge of a building, her feet barely touching the edge as she gazed into the abyss below. The icy wind whipped her body, but she didn’t feel the cold. She was trapped in a whirlwind of dark thoughts, each more desperate than the last.

“End it,” the voices in her head whispered, cruel and persistent. “It’s best for everyone. Get rid of all the pain. You don’t deserve more.”

Her gaze was empty, lost in a place no one else could reach. She closed her eyes, letting the tears mix with the rain, allowing the weight of her emotions to push her further toward the edge.

But then, through the sound of the rain, she heard something. A voice. A familiar voice, filled with anguish. “Jinx, no, please... don’t do it.”

She opened her eyes slowly and saw you, soaked by the rain, your face marked by desperation and tears. You had run to her, not stopping, not thinking of the danger. Now you were there, fighting to reach her, fighting to bring her back.

“Why did you come?” she whispered, her voice trembling. “I told you to stay away... not to come back.”

“Because I can’t leave you alone,” you responded, taking a step closer, each movement filled with fear and love. “I love you, Jinx. I can’t lose you like this.”

She shook her head, the tears falling uncontrollably. “You shouldn’t love me. Not after everything I’ve done. I’m a mess. I’ll ruin you, like I ruin everything.”

“Let me decide that,” you said, your voice broken but firm. “You’re not a mess. You’re my baby, and I love you, even when everything seems to fall apart. I won’t leave you alone.”

Jinx stepped back slightly, as if your words hurt her more than anything else. “I always hurt people... I can’t stop. I don’t want to hurt you, but I always end up doing it.”

“I can take it,” you replied, stepping closer, extending your hands toward her, knowing you couldn’t rush her. “Because I’d rather be with you in your worst moments than lose you forever. You don’t have to face this alone. Let me help you.”

She trembled, the weight of her emotions too much to bear. “I’m scared... scared that I can’t stop, scared that this darkness will consume me. I don’t want you to sink with me.”

“We’ll sink together if we have to,” you promised, your hands still extended, waiting for her to reach you. “I don’t care how much it costs. I’m here to stay, Jinx. I won’t abandon you.”

For a long and painful moment, Jinx remained silent, her gaze filled with a sadness so deep it seemed impossible to heal. But finally, her hands moved, barely brushing yours at first, then clinging to them as if they were the only thing keeping her anchored to this world.

“Promise me you won’t leave me,” she whispered, her voice broken by anguish.

“I promise,” you said, squeezing her hands with all the love and desperation you felt. “No matter what happens, no matter how dark it gets, I’ll always be with you.”

With those words, Jinx stepped back from the edge and collapsed into your arms, her body shaken by heart-wrenching sobs. The storm still raged around them, but at that moment, they were bound by something stronger than fear: the promise not to abandon each other.

Vi

The weeks without Vi have been torment. Each day feels like a part of you fades a little more, as if her absence is slowly tearing your soul apart. Today, you’re in the gardens of your home, holding a photo in your hands: the first one you took with Vi, both smiling, happy, unaware of the pain that would come after. Tears blur your vision as your heart breaks over and over with the memories.

Then, you hear footsteps, and there she is, standing, her eyes filled with a mix of regret and desperation. You quickly try to dry your tears, to hide the photo, as if that could erase the pain consuming you.

“What are you doing here?” you ask, your voice trembling, not sure if you can bear what’s to come.

Vi takes a step forward, her expression more vulnerable than ever. “I miss you,” she says, her voice broken. “I’m sorry for everything I said, everything I did. I can’t live without you.”

You close your eyes, feeling every word of hers like a direct blow to your heart. “None of that matters now, Vi,” you respond, trying to maintain your firmness. “My family has decided to marry me to a member of the Piltover council.”

Vi looks at you, her face pale. “Marry?” she whispers, as if the word were a curse. “You can’t do it. I know you don’t love anyone else. You can’t love anyone but me.”

Tears threaten to return, but you hold them back. “It’s not my choice, Vi. They decide for me. You’re the one who left me, who pushed me into this destiny.”

“I was an idiot,” Vi admits, taking another step toward you. “I know. But I can’t let this happen. I’ll fight for you, even if I have to face the whole world. I won’t lose you, not like this.”

“And what will that change?” you shout, unable to contain the pain any longer. “You can’t fight everyone! You can’t change who I am, what they expect of me.”

Vi stops, her gaze fixed on yours, with an intensity that leaves you breathless. “The only time you’ll stand at an altar will be with me by your side,” she says with unbreakable firmness. “I won’t let you marry anyone else. Not as an act of pride, but because I love you, and I don’t want to live without you.”

“Vi, please,” you whisper, the tears now falling freely. “This is bigger than us. You can’t fix it with pretty words.”

“Then I’ll fix it with actions,” she responds, with a resolve you hadn’t seen before. “I’ll go wherever necessary, face your parents, that damn council, anyone who tries to come between us. I won’t let them take you from me.”

Her voice trembles, but her determination does not. “I don’t want you to be my savior,” you whisper, your voice almost inaudible. “I want you to be my partner, my equal. But I can’t do this alone, Vi. I can’t keep fighting if you’re not by my side.”

Vi comes closer, until the distance between you both disappears. “You’ll never be alone again,” she promises, her eyes shining with unshed tears. “I love you, and I swear I’ll fight for us, until my last breath. I won’t let them separate us, not them, not anyone.”

The weight of her words envelops you, and finally, you let yourself fall into her arms, allowing all the pain, fear, and contained love to overflow. Vi holds you tightly, whispering promises of a future together, promises that, this time, you’re willing to believe.

Caitlyn

The trial is a public spectacle, a circus meant to satisfy Piltover’s thirst for justice. You stand in the center of the room, hands tied behind your back, as the council leaders gaze at you coldly. The accusations fly over your head like sharp daggers: treason, conspiracy, disloyalty. All because you tried to talk to Ekko, to seek a peace you believed possible between the two cities.

Caitlyn stands at the back of the room, her face impassive, her gaze fixed on you. She hasn’t said a word since the trial began, and the emptiness in her expression breaks you more than any word of condemnation. You know she’s fighting internally, but her silence feels like a sentence in itself.

Finally, the judge announces the decision: "For the charges of treason, this court decrees that you will be stripped of your position as Enforcer and permanently exiled from Piltover."

The verdict falls like a hammer on your heart. You feel your world crumble in an instant. You look at Caitlyn, searching in her eyes for some sign of support, of compassion, but she remains motionless.

As the judge is about to strike the gavel to conclude the session, Caitlyn steps forward, her voice resonating with dangerous calm. "One moment."

The entire room turns toward her. Caitlyn advances with the elegance and authority she has always possessed, but there’s something new in her eyes, a spark of defiance.

"I cannot allow this sentence to be carried out," she says firmly. "This isn’t justice; it’s an act of fear and repression. The person you’re accusing only sought peace, a diplomatic solution to prevent more bloodshed."

The judge frowns, but Caitlyn continues before he can interrupt. "I am the leader of the Enforcers, and my loyalty is to true justice, not a system that punishes hope. If you expel my partner from this city, if you strip someone whose only crime was trying to save us all, then you’ll be provoking a rift you cannot control."

Caitlyn takes another step forward, and her voice lowers, but each word is a sharp edge. "I could easily take control, dismantle this corrupt system from within, and there would be nothing you could do to stop me. But that’s not the justice I seek. What I want is fairness, compassion, and truth."

The silence in the room is deafening. The council members exchange glances, understanding they are not dealing with someone who can be manipulated or intimidated.

After what feels like an eternity, the judge finally relents. "We will review the sentence. The accused will be sanctioned and will not be allowed to leave Piltover, but she will not be exiled or stripped of her position."

Caitlyn nods slightly, then approaches you, freeing you from your bonds with her own hands. "Let’s go," she murmurs, her voice soft yet filled with authority.

You leave the courtroom with her, and once you’re away from the others’ eyes, Caitlyn stops. For the first time, you see her tremble. "I’m sorry," she whispers, her eyes finally filling with tears. "I shouldn’t have doubted you. I shouldn’t have left you alone."

The vulnerability in her voice disarms you. Despite everything, despite the pain, you know Caitlyn did what she could to save you. "Cait," you say softly, taking her face in your hands. "What you just did... was the greatest act of love you could give me. You chose between authority and me, and you chose me."

She closes her eyes, tears falling freely. "It will always be you," she says, her voice trembling. "No matter the odds or the problems that come, I will always choose you. You are my justice, my reason, my everything."

The words sink into your heart, bringing overwhelming relief. You kiss her softly, sealing with that gesture the love that binds you. "You are my everything too, Cait," you whisper. "You always have been."

She holds you tightly, as if she’ll never let you go. "Together," she says in a whisper, her voice laden with emotion. "No matter what happens, we’ll face everything together. Because you are my choice, now and always."

Jayce

The air was thick with tension as the words that had been kept bottled up for so long finally exploded. Everything about him was focused on his ambition, on his vision for Piltover, and everything in you was hurt, torn apart by his indifference.

The last time you saw each other, it was a goodbye filled with cruel and cold words, an ending with no way back. You had decided that you could no longer be the shadow of his dreams, an accessory to the side of his grand plans. You didn’t want any more empty promises. You didn’t want to be the sacrifice.

But now, all that seemed about to change.

One day, you find yourself in your laboratory, lost in your thoughts, trying to push away the lingering pain. The door opens with a familiar creak, and your heart skips a beat without warning. It's not someone you expected to see. It’s him. Jayce.

Silence rises between the two of you. The air is heavy, as if time itself had stopped. He’s there, looking at you, but his gaze no longer holds the confidence it once had. In his eyes, there’s something else now: uncertainty, a faint glimmer of regret.

"I thought I understood," he says, his voice deep but hesitant. "I thought that what I was doing, the ambition, the future of Piltover... I thought it all had to be that way. That I had to leave everything behind, even you, if I wanted to get to where I am now."

You remain silent, the pain still fresh in your veins, but something inside you urges you to listen. You know that everything you’ve been through together can’t be left behind without an answer. You can’t help it, but something inside you breaks again at the sound of his voice, the same one that used to calm your fears, now trembling.

"But I haven’t forgotten you," he continues. "I haven’t stopped thinking about you, about us, about what we were. About what we could have been... if only I weren’t so blind."

You look at him, his presence so intense that it almost makes you doubt everything you thought you knew. "Then why are you here?" you ask, your heart pounding in your chest. "After everything you said... after everything that happened, why?"

Jayce takes a step towards you, hesitant but determined. "Because in the end, I realized that nothing is worth it if you’re not by my side. No matter how great Piltover becomes, no matter how grand my legacy is, if I don’t share that greatness with the person who truly matters."

His voice breaks at the end, as if he’s finally acknowledging something he had avoided all along.

A lump forms in your throat, and your hands tremble slightly. "Jayce..." you murmur, not knowing whether you want to believe him or if you’re afraid it’s too late for all this.

"I’m sorry," he says, his tone filled with remorse. "I’m sorry for not listening to you. For not realizing what we had until I almost lost it. I don’t know how to fix it, but I want to try. If you’ll let me... I want to try to make it right. I want you to be part of my life, not just a secondary option, not just something I pushed aside."

He gently takes your hands, almost as if he’s afraid you’ll break in his fingers. "I want to be better for you. And if that means changing, if it means prioritizing you, I’ll do it. Because I need you. Not just as part of my life, but as the center of it."

Jayce’s words envelop you like a warm embrace, but you’re still afraid. Afraid that this promise might be just another lie. However, a part of you wants to believe that all of this can be real.

"Do you really understand?" you ask, looking into his eyes with an intensity that reflects your doubts and hopes. "Because I don’t want to be a shadow anymore. I don’t want to be the sacrifice on your path to something that doesn’t include what we shared."

He nods, the determination in his gaze revealing that he’s not here just to talk but to prove it. "I promise you, I understand now. What we have is the only thing that truly matters."

Your breathing calms, though the uncertainty still lingers. "So what are you going to do? Are you going to stop fighting just for Piltover and start fighting for us?"

Jayce smiles, a vulnerable but sincere smile. "I’m going to fight for what really matters, for what I didn’t want to lose. For you."

A weight lifts from your shoulders, and for a moment, you feel that the pain of everything lost can be healed. Because, in the end, it’s not about power or control. It’s about what the heart chooses, about what people decide to cherish.

You step closer to him, gently touching his face, and at last, after so long, you allow yourself to be vulnerable. "I don’t want to lose you again," you whisper.

"And you won’t," he responds, drawing you even closer, as if there had never been space between you. "Never again."

Ekko

The cold wind of Zaun blew strongly as you entered the house, the echo of your footsteps resonating like a forewarning. You didn’t know what you were going to find, but something told you that Ekko was no longer the same. The house, once filled with laughter and camaraderie, now seemed empty, desolate.

Ekko was there, sitting in front of a table, his hands trembling slightly. When he saw you, his eyes widened, but there was no surprise, just a flicker of something else. Regret.

"Ekko..." you whispered, your voice breaking. In the distance, the image of the battle came to mind. That night when you almost lost him forever. It had been a brutal blow. The fear of never seeing him again consumed you.

"I saw everything, you know?" Ekko began to speak, his voice softer than usual, as if he were searching for the right words. "When I fell… when everything seemed to be ending… the only thing I saw… was you." A long sigh escaped his chest, as if those words had cost him as much as a contained scream. "I saw your face, your pain… and I realized, too late, that the only battle that truly mattered, the one I didn’t want to lose… was ours."

Silence filled the room, your eyes welling up with tears as you processed what he had just said. "Ekko, why...? Why couldn’t we make it work before?"

He looked at you deeply, as if each word was a struggle, as if he were slowly building up what he felt. "I told you that you weren’t enough... but it was me who wasn’t enough. I, who thought I could save everything, who thought I could be everything for everyone, but when I looked at my life… I saw nothing. I saw what I had lost the most. And it was me who pushed away the only thing that truly mattered."

He stood up with effort, his eyes filled with regret and pain, the way he looked at you was so intense it hurt. "I… I fought for Zaun, but the only real fight I should be fighting, the only one that matters, is for you." His words flowed out of his mouth, but it seemed he was seeking his own forgiveness. "I failed you. I failed you because I didn’t understand what it meant to have you by my side. You were always enough, and you always will be."

He approached slowly, his face now close to yours, and though his gaze was tired, there was something new in it: vulnerability. "Would you let me fight for you, even now, even though everything is broken?"

Your voice trembled as you looked into Ekko's eyes. "Why are you asking me now? Why when everything is already broken?"

"Because I saw you leave, I saw how my life dimmed without you. And I realized that despite everything, the only thing that keeps me standing is knowing that I can still fight for what I love the most. And that's you. You are my reason to keep going. My only reason." His eyes glistened, and for a moment, it seemed that time had stopped between the two of you.

The air was heavy with palpable pain, and your tears fell uncontrollably. No matter how much damage had been done, the love between you had never left, it had just been buried under layers of pride and distance.

"Ekko..." you whispered, your voice broken. "What if I'm no longer what you need?"

"You’ll always be. You always were. And you always will be, baby" he said, his voice cracking as he took your hands with a desperate strength. "I’m so sorry."

Finally, words were no longer enough, and in an impulse, you both leaned in, letting yourselves be carried by the need to heal what was broken. Ekko's tears mixed with yours, the pain transformed into something that needed to be healed, and within the shadows of the house, you both finally understood that although the path to reconciliation would be difficult, there was still a chance to fight for the love that hadn’t completely disappeared.

Silco

The warehouse's dim light wrapped around you like an ominous forewarning, the thick, heavy air clinging to your skin. You had fallen into the trap, and although you knew it, you couldn't stop fighting, trying to free yourself. You had been at the brink of death more times than you cared to count, but this time it was different. The face of the man who held you prisoner was not one you knew well, but you did know that he was under the orders of someone much more dangerous. Silco had never fully explained the world he moved in, but something about the surroundings told you there would be no escape. This wasn't just any kidnapping. This time you wouldn't be saved so easily.

The ropes binding your wrists tightened as your mind spun in search of a way out. Your breathing was uneven, and every attempt to calm yourself only multiplied the fear. The man in front of you, with harsh features and cold eyes, watched your every move with a cruel smile. The sense of threat was palpable, yet you tried to defy him, even though you knew it was a vain attempt.

"Silco?" You called, but your voice trembled, betrayed by panic.

"Do you think he'll come to save you?"

The man let out a mocking laugh, stepping closer, the blade of a knife catching the warehouse's dim light.

"Silco has too many problems to deal with you," he said with a calm that only made the situation more terrifying. "You should already know, in this world, there's no room for weakness. Especially not for a little whore like you; you whores are replaceable. And apparently, he's already replaced you, everyone knows it. But my boss thought it would be a courteous gesture to send him your head as a small gift."

Your thoughts blurred with the sound of the door bursting open, and a chill ran down your spine at the familiar echo of firm, controlled footsteps. It was him. There was no doubt.

The man didn't seem worried, his arrogance had blinded him. "What's the great Silco doing here? Jealous that I have your former little bitch now? Relax, I'll give her back to you once I'm done with her. You can keep a leg or both, but her organs are mine, I'm sure they'll fetch a good price in the market."

There was no response. Silco didn't say a word, but the tension in the air was so thick that the entire room seemed to hold its breath. His eyes, cold as ice, scanned the man before you and then fixed on you, without showing a hint of emotion. Without hesitation, his hand slid to the back of his belt. In the blink of an eye, the sound of the gunshot echoed through the room, and the man fell to the ground, his life fading so quickly he didn't even have time to comprehend it.

It all happened in a matter of seconds, but for you, the world seemed to stop the moment Silco's figure approached. The intensity in his gaze, that palpable energy that used to envelop you in his presence, was now just a reminder of everything you had lost. He freed you from the ropes without a word. The contact of his hand as he touched you sent a shiver down your spine, and though his gesture was practical, you couldn't help but wonder if, in some corner of his being, there was still something of the person he had been before. Something that had loved you.

"You'll be fine," he murmured, his tone cold and distant as always. But this time, it wasn't the tone of the protector, the leader who had cared for you. It was the voice of someone who had forgotten what it meant to feel.

You tried to pull away from his touch, the same touch you had once desired with all your being. You couldn't bear it any longer. You couldn't bear him, his indifference.

"Why do you keep doing this? Why do you keep saving me? If you hate me so much, why save me?" Your voice was a broken whisper, but the pain in it was clear.

Silco remained silent for a moment, his eyes fixed on you with an intensity that burned. You could see the internal struggle in his gaze, that shadow of doubt that had arisen between him and you. Finally, he took a step towards you, his face implacable, but his hands trembling as he approached.

"You didn't understand anything," he murmured, his tone low, more vulnerable than you had ever heard. "What I told you... it was all a lie. I didn't want to lose you, that's why I pushed you away. I didn't want you close to this world, to this hell... but I couldn't. I couldn't let you go. I thought if I pushed you away, you wouldn't suffer, but..." His voice broke briefly, and silence filled the space between you both.

You looked at his face, puzzled by the contradiction in him. Everything he had said before, everything he had done, seemed to crumble now before your eyes.

"You don't understand, do you?" You whispered, still fighting the lump in your throat. "What did you think? That I didn't know what I was getting into when I decided to stay with you? That I didn't know death would always be at my back? That I would always have to live on the edge because you insisted on being the damn king of a world like this?"

Silco didn't respond immediately, his face softened slightly, and a shadow of regret crossed his gaze.

"I know," he said in a hoarse voice, "I know everything I said was cruel. But what I didn't tell you... is that, even if the whole world collapses, the only thing that matters to me... the only thing I've truly loved... is you."

The impact of his words hit you, and for a second, time stopped. The pain, the rage, the uncertainty, all of it seemed to dissolve into the air. But above all, there was something else, something you never expected to hear from him.

"I chose you," you whispered as you slowly approached him. "Despite everything, I chose you. I chose you, and even knowing what it would mean, I would do it again. Because that's what love really is. Choosing the person despite everything, even knowing death is just around the corner."

A flicker of emotion crossed his eyes, something you rarely saw in him, and for a moment, all the hatred, all the anger that had existed between you disappeared, leaving you alone, vulnerable, but finally honest.

"Then, come back, please," he pleaded, his voice trembling, his hand seeking yours. "I can't bear a world without you. I can't lose you. I'll keep protecting you, no matter how many times I have to dirty my hands with blood."

You approached, touching his forehead with the softness of a caress that, in that moment, was the only thing that could heal the wounds you both carried.

"I'm here, my love," you whispered to him, as he closed his eyes, letting the pain and hope dissolve between his arms. "I'll never leave you again. No matter what happens. It will always be you and me against the world. Always and forever."

And so, in that moment, the broken words and wounds of the past were left behind. In their place, there was only the certainty that, in the end, the love they shared couldn't be destroyed, even if the whole world was in ruins.

Mel

It's close to three in the morning when you hear a knock on the door. You're half asleep, your head heavy, but something in the air alerts you. With every step you take towards the entrance, you feel your heart racing, as if you know something is about to change, something you can't stop. You open the door, and there she is.

Mel is not the same as before. She isn't wearing the luxuries that always accompany her, the perfectly applied makeup, or the golden jewelry that always shone on her skin. She's a mess, her gaze lost, her face haggard. The strong woman who always seemed in control is now broken, empty. And when she looks at you, her eyes are not the same. They are filled with pain, with a suffering she hasn't been able to hide.

Before you can say a word, Mel throws herself at you. She takes you by surprise, but you quickly wrap your arms around her. Her body is trembling, as if her entire being is collapsing. You feel her tears soaking your shirt, and in the silence of the early morning, she begins to speak through sobs.

"I faced her..." her voice is broken, and every word costs her more than it seems. "My mother... she told me... she told me I would never be enough. That I'm not. You were right." She pauses for a moment, unable to continue, as if the weight of those words is too heavy for her soul to carry.

You hold her tighter, even though the words coming out of her mouth are like daggers in your chest. "Mel, please... don't say that," you murmur, though the anguish in your own voice is as present as hers. "You're not what she says. You're not."

"I'm her puppet," she responds bitterly. "She manipulated me... manipulated me to make all this happen. To put Piltover in her hands. I started a war, and now... I can't stop it. I'm to blame for all of this." Her crying intensifies, and you can feel her pain as if she's tearing herself apart inside. "She called me weak... called me a disgrace to the Medarda clan..."

Those words leave you cold. You feel the air catch in your throat. But you can't let her fall. You can't let her sink further into that darkness. You pull her away slightly, holding her face in your hands, forcing her to look into your eyes.

"No, Mel," you say firmly, even though your heart is shattered. "You're not weak. You're not a disgrace. You are... you're Mel Medarda, an incredible woman, not Ambessa's daughter. And that's what you'll always be to me."

She shakes her head, as if your words are merely an illusion. "You don't see it... you don't understand," she says, her voice broken by the sobs. "I am everything she wants me to be. Everything she told me to be. And now I don't know who I am... I don't know if I'm what you need."

You move closer to her, almost brushing her lips, and you can feel her desperation. "What you need isn't to be what your mother wants, Mel. What you need... what you need is to be yourself. You are enough. You are more than enough. I want you, with everything you are. It doesn't matter what she thinks. I love you just the way you are."

Mel closes her eyes tightly, as if she wants to block out the pain of your words, but even she knows that something in you is true. You feel that, though she doesn't want to admit it, your love for her is a refuge, a sanctuary from the torment she's lived her entire life.

"I promise I won't leave you alone in this," you continue, holding her face in your hands. "We'll figure it out together, Mel. We will. You're not going to lose me. I'm not going to lose you."

Mel finally looks up and meets your gaze, her eyes filled with tears, but there's something different in her expression. It's not the emptiness she gave you before, it's a spark, something of hope that begins to ignite deep within her.

"I don't want to keep fighting alone," she says softly, almost as if it's a lost whisper. "I'm so afraid... so afraid of all this. Of what I've caused. But... I don't want to lose what we have. I don't want to lose you."

"You won't," you reply with a sigh, holding her tightly, as if you could embrace all her fears. "I won't leave you alone. I promise. We'll figure it out. Together."

Time seems to stop at that moment. The world outside keeps turning, but you and Mel, in this instant, have only each other. And although the future is uncertain, you know that as long as you have each other, nothing can tear you apart.

Sevika

The sound of heavy footsteps is the first thing you hear. It’s late, the city is shrouded in darkness, but something in the air tells you this time it’s not a dream, not a nightmare. The knocking on the door startles you, and when you open it, you see her.

Sevika is standing in front of you, slightly swaying, her breathing uneven. The scent of alcohol is strong, mixed with the sensation of sweat and exhaustion emanating from her body. Her eyes, usually so firm, are now dull, almost lost, as if she’s searching for something she doesn’t know how to find.

“Sevika… what are you doing here?” you ask, your heart pounding in your chest, confused and worried to see her like this.

She doesn’t respond immediately, just stands there, watching you, as if she wants to say something, but the words seem stuck in her throat. After a long silence, she finally speaks, her voice deep and broken.

“I went to the brothels…” she murmurs, her head hanging low, as if it’s a confession, something weighing heavier than anything else. “To forget you. To stop thinking about you. I was with other people… so many other people. But everything I did reminded me of you. Of you and how… how I lost you.”

Your stomach churns at her words. The betrayal cuts you like a sharp knife. You step back from her, feeling the pain grow in your chest.

“No… why? Why did you do that?” The anger and hurt are clear in your voice, but there’s also a vulnerability you can’t hide. “Is that why you left me? To be with other people?”

Sevika lifts her head, her eyes reflecting a remorse so deep you can almost feel it as your own. “I didn’t do it to hurt you,” she says, her words faltering. “I did it because I thought it was what I should do… because I hurt you, and I didn’t know how to fix it. I didn’t want you to need me, I didn’t want to drag you with me into this damn abyss.”

Your heart beats so fast you feel it might burst out of your chest. Every word from Sevika hurts more, but there’s something in her gaze, in the way she’s opening up to you now, that makes you hesitate.

“But…” she continues, taking another step closer. “None of it worked. None of it. I remember you in every one of those faces. I remember you when I’m alone when I try to forget you. And the worst part, the most painful part, is that I can’t… I can’t stop wanting you.”

The words hang in the heavy air between you. The silence becomes unbearable. Sevika takes another step, closer to you until you can feel her ragged breath. She’s so close you can see every line on her face, the fragility you never thought she had.

“I… I never wanted you to see me this way,” she says, her voice breaking, as if every word costs her a world. “But please… listen to me carefully. There’s nothing I want more in this damn world than to be with you. I don’t want to keep living without you. I can’t. I love you. I can’t keep running from it. I can’t live with the weight of not telling you this sooner.”

The air freezes between you, and for a moment, the world seems to stop. The hate, the confusion, the betrayal… it all mixes in your chest, but deep down, you know what she just said is real.

“What?” you manage to whisper, your eyes filling with unshed tears. “Are you serious?”

Sevika closes her eyes, as if fighting against herself. “I love you,” she repeats, her voice softer now, as if she’s giving you everything she had, everything she had kept in her heart. “I love you, and I don’t want to keep living this lie. You… you’re the only thing that matters to me. You’re my only reason for being here. I don’t want to lose you. I don’t want you to keep suffering because of me. Please…”

Those “please” are like a plea, a silent scream that pierces through all the walls you had built around your heart. Sevika, the strong and fierce woman who always showed you her darkest side, is now on her knees before you, vulnerable, open, filled with a desperation you hadn’t seen before.

And in that instant, you feel everything crumble. The pain, the resentment, the confusion… it all disappears. Only love remains, raw and real, so strong it almost chokes you. Without thinking, you throw yourself into her arms, your arms wrapping around her with a desperate intensity, as if you fear that if you let her go, she’ll disappear forever.

“I love you too,” you whisper against her neck, the tears falling uncontrollably. “I love you so much it hurts.”

Sevika holds you with the same strength, her body trembling against yours. “Then let’s make it not hurt,” she murmurs, her words filled with a mix of relief and pain. “Let’s not let it separate us again, please.”

“That won’t happen again,” you reply, your lips seeking hers, not caring about anything else. “I won’t let it happen. What we have is forever.”

When your lips meet, the kiss is fierce, filled with the passion of everything that has built up, of everything that was left unsaid. It’s a kiss filled with desperation, love, and unspoken promises. It’s the beginning of a new chapter, one where the darkness won’t separate you, where love will keep you together, always.

[airenyah]

A LOOK AT STYLE'S JOURNEY | Ep 6

(Overview | Ep1+2 | Ep3 | Ep4 | Ep5)

I meant to post this on January 1st since we didn't get a new episode that day, but then I got distracted making gifsets and writing other meta. Oh, and I was also busy finally watching the show with my mother. Whoops. But my thoughts on episode 6 are finally here! ENJOY <3

Pronoun situation: As usual, just assume they use the rude guu/mueng with each other unless I point out a significant pronoun switch.

To recap: Style has spent all of last episode coming to terms with the fact that he was falling in love with someone who regularly kills people. By the end of the episode he has come to a conscious decision that he wants to be with Fadel no matter what. Fadel ends up spending the night in Style's bed where they have a significant conversation about trust before they make love. "Making love", because love is finally most definitely involved in the act.

No. 1: Morning Cardio

It's the morning after and probably the very first morning in their relationship that they wake up together. They bicker and Style finally gets his morning cardio in. All is good, all is well, everyone is happy, no one is sad. I desperately try to repress any memories of how this episode ends in order to get through this scene without sobbing. I end up crying anyway as I think about how the first time they hooked up Fadel abandoned Style on the floor of a cold, dark room after punching him in the gut and now Fadel is lying on top of Style, cuddling and kissing him in a warm room filled with the brightest sunshine.

Anyway, so Fadel wakes up Style who really doesn't want to get up yet. Fadel chides Style for not setting an alarm. But Style won't lie there and get scolded again and so he immediately scolds Fadel back: "I told you to hold back and you didn’t listen to me, either." And since everyone loves the language tidbits so much, here is the literal translation of the "I told you to hold back" part:

Last night I told you to stop เมื่อคืนอ่ะ กูบอกให้มึงหยุด [mêuua keun - àh • guu - bòk - hâi mueng - yùt] last night - [particle] • I - tell - for you to - stop

As grumpy as Style is about being woken up and having to get out of bed, there's a lot of amusement in his voice when he says this and his facial expression is also warm as he looks at Fadel. But then he closes his eyes again and immediately goes back to being a little morning grump as he dramatically laments that his body is sore and that he oh so sadly can't go to work. Fadel is now so relaxed around Style that he finally starts cracking jokes and playing along with Style's antics, offering to take Style to the hospital while trying to scoop Style up bridal style (haha. style. 🤭) in order to take him just there. But it's too early in the day for these games and Style really does not wanna leave the bed just yet. And so he impatiently complains about Fadel trying to carry him, and then explains: "I was just being overdramatic." In Thai, the word that was translated as "overdramatic" is สำออย [săm-oi] which my native speaker friend defined as "pretending to be weak about something" and explained that it's a negative word that is mostly used to make sarcastic remarks. That would certainly fit with Style's slight morning grumpiness. I also looked up the word on thai2english which defines the word as following:

[to] look for sympathy (by acting excessively sad or crying)

Style wasn't exactly crying when he complained about his body being sore, but he sure was looking for sympathy. So he clarifies that he was only pretending and that Fadel didn't need to maneuver him out of bed and then goes on to say: "I know you’re like a block of walking ice, but you should learn to read between the lines." In Thai Style uses the word อารมณ์ [ah-rom] here which translates to "mood" or "feeling" or "emotion":

An ice wall like you should learn to read other people's mood/emotions. กำแพงน้ำแข็งแบบมึงอ่ะหัดอ่านอารมณ์คนอื่นบ้าง [gam-paeng náam kăeng - bàep - mueng - àh - hàt - àan - aa-rom - kon èun - bâang] ice wall - like - you - [particle] - practice - read - mood, emotion - others - some

And Style's current mood is "staying in bed" and "wanting to be babied". The message finally reaches Fadel and he pushes Style back onto the pillow. He props himself up above Style and comes back to what Style was saying about his muscles being sore. "They say we should hit it right where it hurts. It’s like exercising. That’s how your body builds stronger muscles." Style responds with a challenge: "Thanks for the trivia, but I don’t see why you’re telling me this." In Thai he actually phrases it like a question:

[...] but what are you telling me this for? แต่บอกกูเพ��่ออะไรเนี่ย [dtàe - bòk - guu - pêuua à-rai - nîia] but - tell - I/me - what for, why - [particle]

(Alt. translation: But why are you telling me this?)

I personally prefer it phrased as a question because it makes the challenge a little more direct. With the exception of rhetorical questions, a question encourages a response. With Style phrasing it like a question, Fadel is pretty much obliged to respond because a question is expected to be followed by an answer. And the answer is? "You need to exercise daily."

Fadel leans down and starts pampering Style with kisses. By now Style's morning grumpiness has faded away completely and is replaced by contentment instead as the lyrics "And now I'm yours / All yours, baby / Now I'm yours" play. Now they are officially each other's. They are officially in love.

No. 2: Awkward Encounters

Unexpectedly, Style's dad returns from his fishing trip just in time to catch Fadel leaving the garage. Style walks in on his dad having a very awkward interview with Fadel and comes to Fadel's rescue. By now Style is much more awake and in a considerably brighter mood than he was right after waking up. His dad immediately starts teasing him about Fadel, but Style isn't having it. He shoots his dad down by calling Fadel his "friend" (part of me wonders if he does that because maybe Fadel and Style haven't really discussed how open/official they wanna be with their relationship outside their inner circle of KB/FS and he doesn't just wanna drop the news to his dad without checking in with Fadel first), he lets his dad know he is being embarrassing and then gently sends Fadel away, releasing him from this very uncomfortable situation that he was suddenly trapped in. And I just adore the way Style stares after Fadel, watching him leave without tearing away his gaze:

Even when his dad starts making a teasing sound, Style takes a moment to fully process that his dad is talking to him while he himself is too busy looking at Fadel and having his attention and thoughts fully on his boyfriend. It's only when his dad starts speaking properly that Style finally turns his head towards him. His dad continues to tease him but even with Fadel gone, Style still isn't in the mood for it and quickly changes the topic to his dad's fishing tip. And their ensuing banter is very endearing because you can just clearly tell how important Style's dad is to him and how much they genuinely like each other. And a little detail I also love is how Style's dad wears a vest similar to the one Style wears later in this episode.

(Btw, y'all, Style stares after Fadel for so long that I had to go with using only every 3rd frame to make the gif fit in the 8mb size limit. That's how long Style stares for jgkdkjfdg)

Side quest: To Play or Not to Play

Now, if you read my previous metas and especially my ep3 meta you'll know that I've been arguing for Style not actually being into sleeping around all that much. Now, you could take Style's dad asking Fadel "Are you his one-time thing or are you taking him seriously?" as confirmation that Style is a player after all. However, I still don't think so. First of all, I'm not gonna believe it until Style has said it himself and even more importantly his actions and behavior also convince me otherwise (considering how many lies all the characters in this series constantly tell) and second of all, I'm not sure Style's dad himself actually knows whether his son sleeps around or not. After all, this is the same man who only the other week said "I forgot you like men". And also the way he was so surprised about seeing an unfamiliar face coming out of his house lets me think that Style usually doesn't have any random over-night visitors. Not to mention his dad being surprised about Style's type ("Oh, well, who’d have guessed that’s your type?").

And all that isn't to say Style never has a one-night stand. I'm just saying, I don't think it happens on a regular basis. As I said in my ep3 meta, I think Style makes very deliberate choices of who he sleeps with and that is also confirmed in episode 5 when Style mentions how his dad tried to set him up with some mechanics but Style wanted to be able to choose for himself. If Style does have one-night stands, it seems like he either never brings them home or he simply just doesn't sleep around often enough for his dad to be in any way used to it. Personally, I think it's the latter. I think Style gets picky about who he sleeps with, because to him sex matters (as discussed in my ep4 meta as well).

Oh, and also in Thai the dad uses the expression หลอกฟัน [lòk fan] which is a colloquial phrase which my native speaker friend explained as "to trick someone into sex". And by the way, Style himself uses that exact expression in episode 4 at the Rise Up meeting when he bitches about getting nailed and bailed. And now I'm a bit angry at myself that I felt too awkward to ask about this phrase back when I was writing my ep4 meta, because the "tricking" connotation of this phrase definitely adds some nuance to Style's anger in episode 4. But coming back to episode 6, I think Style's dad isn't necessarily saying this because of his son's potential love life habits and it's more him being a bit of a protective dad who wants to make sure the people his son keeps company with aren't gonna cause heartbreak to his son.

No. 3: Make the Most of It

Style and Kant meet for a drink and Kant gets right to the point: "If they really decided to carry out their operation tomorrow, and got arrested by Captain, what should we do?" Style doesn't like the thought of Fadel (and Bison) being arrested and suggests a solution: "Let's stop them." Kant reminds him that he can't just walk up to Bison and outright tell him to abandon the mission and Style agrees that Kant would not make it out of that situation alive. "Unless you leave him right now", Style says. Or more literally:

Unless you get out of his life from now on. นอกจากมึงจะออกจากชีวิตไบซันตั้งแต่ตอนนี้ [nôk jàak - mueng - já - òhk jàak - chii-wít - Bison - dtâng-dtàe - dton-níi] apart from, except - you - will - depart, leave - life - Bison - since, from - (right) now

It's not like the literal translation is a big difference from the official translation, but I just thought "leave his life" sounds more dramatic and I'm sure some of you will appreciate this little tidbit of info as well.

Style doesn't know if Kant can simply just just get out of Bison's life or not but what Style does know is that he himself certainly can't just drop out of Fadel's life to never see him again: "But as for me, I’m getting kinda attached to Fadel". Or what he actually says:

But to be honest, I've already begun to worry about Fadel. แต่เอาจริงๆ กูเริ่มเป็นห่วงฟาเดลแล้วนะ [dtàe - ao jing jing • guu - rêum - bpen hùuang - Fadel - láew - ná] but - honestly, seriously - I - begin - be worried - Fadel - already - [particle]

Thai doesn't have verb tenses, so I think a possible translation would also be "I'm beginning to worry about Fadel". Personally, I think present perfect tense is more fitting, since last episode Style already told Kant "I’m beginning to worry about him now", which – something I missed it in my ep5 meta in my hurry to finish before episode 6 dropped and have since added to the post – but what Style says in reality in episode 5 is:

I'm worrying about him now. ตอนนี้กูเป็นห่วงฟาเดลแล้วว่ะ [dton-níi - guu - bpen hùuang - Fadel - láew - wâ] now - I - be worried - Fadel - already - [particle]

(Alt. translation: I'm worried about him now.)

In episode 5 Style says nothing about "beginning to" worry, no, in episode 5 he clearly states that he is already worrying about Fadel and so I think it makes sense to interpret his statement in episode 6 as "I've started to worry about Fadel", since it's something that began in the past (episode 5) and is still ongoing as of this point.

Anyway, so Style questions if Kant would be able to get out of Bison's life and lets him know I myself can't get out of Fadel's life now that I've started to worry about him. We immediately see proof of his worry as he practically begs Kant to hurry up with getting the boss behind everything arrested so that this mess can finally come to an end. And once again we see that Style is quite the optimist: "Those two will be free, and we can go on with our lives."

I think it's not just optimism that led Style to say this words, but also bit of wishful thinking and most importantly, a lot of hope. He is well aware that the situation is messy and difficult, but he still hopes, hopes for the best, hopes for a happy ending for them all. There's gotta be a way, right? If Captain Christ only wants their boss, then everything will be fine, right? But Kant reminds him of the bitter reality: "You think Captain would let them walk? They kill people for a living. If they ain’t shot dead on the spot, they’d at least get a life sentence."

I think deep down Style already knew this, but actually hearing it out loud hits different. I think it's only now that it truly sinks in for him that it will likely be the very last time he'll get to spend time with Fadel. Style sinks back into the bench, looking miserable. Kant moves over to Style's bench to comfort him: "We can only make the most of what we have now." For once, Style isn't in the mood to talk. He grabs his drink, clinks cans with Kant, and they both try to wash away their worries with beer. It's not helping. Style stares dejectedly into the air.

No. 4: Please Don't Be Mad

(Side note: in my ep3 meta I couldn't quite tell if Style went to the bar to purposely seek out Fadel or not, and well, I have my answer now hahaha)

Just like Style already mentioned to Kant and to us, him and Fadel are spending their evening at the heavy metal bar. Fadel tells him that this is the first time that he didn't come to the bar alone and Style tells him "Happiness shared is happiness doubled". Style is serious, he really means it. He is here because he wants Fadel to be happy, wants them to be happy together. Fadel makes heart eyes at him. Style gives a little smile back. Fadel gets the tickets. The ticket seller informs them that the band will be playing for the last time. Style looks serious again. The band isn't the only one having a last time. The ticket seller continues: "It’s gonna be a memorable night." Style looks towards the ground. This hits different for him. "You’re right," he finally says, "for me, tonight is certainly going to be a memorable night." And again, his tone is serious. His words hold a certain weight to them, he really means what he says with all his heart. Then he looks at Fadel. Style was speaking to the ticket seller as he was saying this, but really, it's a message to Fadel. I'm going to remember this night, he says, I'm going to remember you. Style may not be able to tell Fadel about how this will potentially be their last night together, but at least he can be honest about his feelings. This night matters to Style, and it matters a lot. The knowledge of this possibly being a goodbye weighs on him and we can tell by the way just how serious Style has been throughout this short sequence. Not the loud, bubbly boy that we've all grown to love. I think Fadel can also tell that something is off about Style, because he raises his eyebrows at him and stares at him quizzically for a moment before he turns to enter the bar. Style follows him.

Once inside, Style is looking rather tense. There is something on his mind that he needs to confess but that he struggle to say. In the end it does burst out of him. "I don’t really like heavy metal," he shouts in the middle of a heavy metal bar. It makes for a funny moment, but Style is clearly distraught. Fadel says he already knew that and Style is relieved that Fadel isn't angry. Now, I've had some thoughts about this.

I'm not sure this confession was really about Style's music preferences at all. It kinda reminds me of how, remember episode 5 of Bad Buddy when Pat "confessed" to Ink, but it wasn't really about his feelings for her at all but rather Ink and that confession served as a stand-in so that he could get the weight off his chest without having to open the real can of worms? Yeah, I think we have something somewhat similar happening here. Now I do very much think Style was absolutely telling the truth when he said he doesn't like heavy metal music. After all, we did see him jamming out to a song that was very much not heavy metal music, so the content of his confession definitely wasn't a lie. But I do think it served as a bit of a stand in for all the things Style CAN'T confess to right now. And there is a lot that Style could and should and probably also kind of wants to be confessing to: the fact that he knows of what Fadel does, the fact that Kant has informed the police of Fadel and Bison's next mission, the fact that said police will be awaiting the brothers there, the fact that this will likely be Style and Fadel's very last night together. Not to mention the fact that Style hit on him for a car before he fell in love for real. But as Kant pointed out earlier that day when they were having a drink together... It's not like they can just walk up to the brothers and just say it. The brothers are killers after all. And in a way, I think Style's confession serves not just as an attempt to be more honest with Fadel but also as a way to assess how Fadel will react if he learns that Style actively lied to him.

Style looks almost a bit too upset and guilty for it to be just about his music preferences after the truth is out of his mouth.

The situation is a bit awkward, because he ends up yelling it loudly in a room full of heavy metal fans, but I don't think he really cares about that more than a whoops in this moment, because what really matters is: "You’re not mad at me, are you?" There is so much urgency to it, his expression kind of pleading:

I'm sorry that I wasn't being honest with you. You're not mad at me, right? You're not mad that I lied to you, right? Please don't be angry with me. Style is so very stressed about this. Fadel's reaction is important.

And Fadel? Is not angry that Style lied. In fact, to Style's surprise, Fadel actually already knew the truth about him (foreshadowing, anyone? 👀). Style is veeery relieved about this:

มึงไม่โกรธอ่ะ กูก็สบายใจแล้ว [mueng - mâi - gròht - àh • guu - gôr - sà-baai jai - láew] you - not - angry - [particle] • I - [sentence link] - happy, pleased - already

In the subtitles Style says "All I want to know is that you’re not mad at me" here. I checked the original line with a native speaker friend who translated it as "You're not mad, then I'm relieved" (and if you put the Thai line into Google Translate it also spits out "If you're not angry, I'll be relieved") which I think matches what Dunk is portraying here through his body and his facial expression a lot better. However, the official English translation summarizes the whole point of the confession very nicely: all Style wants to know is how Fadel will react to the fact that Style actively lied to him and he's desperately hoping that Fadel won't be angry to find out the truth.

And then Fadel isn't angry. And tells him that he wants to see the real Style. Style tilts his head at him, not looking entirely convinced despite the huge relief just now. There is still a lot Style is currently keeping from Fadel, things that are a much bigger deal than his music preferences. Style is still keeping truths from Fadel, still lying to him. And then Fadel drops: "But still, liars should be punished." This has Style genuinely stressed again. There is almost a bit of fear in his voice when he inquires what the punishment will be as he reluctantly lets Fadel drag him away. Style now knows that Fadel won't be angry at him for lying, but there will be consequences (a punishment) (again: will this be foreshadowing? 👀).

No. 5: Fake Fan

Turns out Fadel's punishment isn't all that scary after all, even if Style isn't too hyped about it. Nevertheless, he patiently sits there and lets Fadel paint his face without stopping him. But no matter his patience, Style still can't let Fadel do this without at least a verbal protest. He points out that that Fadel isn't wearing face paint either and is almost kind of offended. YOU aren't wearing any so why are you making ME do it? Style then questions if Fadel even has the skills for what he's doing. Unlike before, Fadel now easily gives up information about himself to Style without hesitation: "I used to wear the same makeup as my favorite band."

A major running theme that we've had going on over several episodes now is how Style keeps trying to get Fadel to loosen up and to have fun. We saw this happening in episode 1 already when Style tried to get Fadel to play along when he made him get the pin off his shirt himself (which actually happened even before Kant made Style hit on Fadel). We saw it in episode 2 when Style pretended they were on a cooking show and provided commentary while Fadel was preparing a customer's food. We saw it in episode 3, when Style follows Fadel to the heavy metal bar for the first time and tried to get Fadel to party and to scream a little. We saw it in episode 5 when Style convinced Fadel to wear the matching couple shirts, pulled him into a dance, and even got him to sing karaoke. And what's more, we've also seen Style trying to get Fadel to socialize. And yeah, of course a lot of what Style was saying and implying about Fadel doing things with Style specifically he said because he was actively hitting on Fadel, but I do think he genuinely meant it when he said things like "But some things are better done together" (episode 2, sports field) or "How’d [having a good time all by yourself] even work? You need someone to 'scream' with" (episode 3, heavy metal bar).

So Style has been trying to coax Fadel out of his shell pretty much since the beginning, has been trying to get him to just enjoy life, has been trying to pull him out of his loneliness. And he's doing it again here: the moment Style learns of Fadel's old hobby, Style immediately suggests Fadel paints his face too. Matching make-up for the two of them. It's something that Fadel clearly enjoys and also they'll do it together. Obviously. Because some things are better done together. And happiness shared is happiness doubled. But Fadel refuses, because he never lets anyone see him with band make-up on.

And now we get even more running themes: only moments ago Fadel said "I want to see the real you", but this is something that goes vice versa for Style as well. In episode 5 he told Fadel "I promise that no matter who you are, I’ll still like you" and while this was mostly in reference to Fadel's secret hitman identity, this sentiment counts for everything else about Fadel too. And if Fadel enjoys wearing his favorite band's make-up, then Style will also like him for that. Style wants see Fadel's real him and he wants Fadel to be the real him, to live the real him. "How long are you going to live someone else’s life?"

And it's not just that. After ep5 I was discussing the double date scene with @secriden in our DMs and she talked about how Style was giving Fadel a safe space to participate in all that socializing by being even sillier than Fadel so that Fadel didn't have to be embarrassed about dancing silly dances or wearing silly couple shirts. And I think the very same thing is going on here. Fadel never lets the public see his painted face, whether it's out of fear or embarrassment or something else. And Style offers for them to wear matching make-up. "Try just being someone you want to be," he says, "We’ll do it together." Fadel isn't alone in this, Style is right here, by his side, with him. A safe space. "There’s nothing to be afraid of." Not if Fadel is with Style. Style will support whoever Fadel is underneath his thick, icy walls no matter what. Style is set on it. And tonight, potentially their very last night together, Style will gladly wear make-up for Fadel and Fadel will wear make-up too for his own happiness. They'll do it together and there is nothing to fear when Style is with him. Well? How about it?

Fadel is quiet. He lets Style grab his face and paint on him. Style gives Fadel an encouraging nod, like See? It's not that bad. It's not that scary. I'm right here with you. Be happy. Be you. I love you.

Now, the tear tracks that Style draws on Fadel's face are obviously foreshadowing to how this episode is going to end with Fadel crying because of Style's "betrayal". But honestly, the very first time I watched it? This foreshadowing went right over my head. Admittedly, I was also running on just 3h of sleep that day because I'd been up all night finishing my ep5 meta so I could post it before the new episode dropped and took a 3h nap around noon, so that might have also been a factor in that, but yeah, it totally didn't occur to me that the episode could end in Fadel's real tears (not sure if that made the last scene better or worse tbh). No, the thought that I had instead while watching the episode for the first time was: "Are those the tears that Fadel never got/gets to cry?" And to be honest, I do hope later down the line we'll get a scene where Fadel finally lets it all out, let's out all the pain from all the trauma(s) he's been through while Style is right by his side, supporting him through it, is there for him. Because they'll do this together and Style will always be ready to happily offer and create a safe space for Fadel, just like he did in episode 5 when he was asking Fadel about his parents or when he was trying to get Fadel to let lose and dance a little in the bowling alley or now when he's offering to wear matching make-up with Fadel. And when Fadel cries (and I hope he will cry, and not just from Style's "betrayal"), then Style will offer a safe space for Fadel to cry in, too.

No. 6: (Bitter)Sweet Happiness

Both in make-up, they now proceed to have the time of their lives at the concert, smiling the brightest smiles. They even get to take selfies with the band. Fadel is happy, and so is Style. I think this may actually be the most carefree we've seen Fadel in the entire series so far and it's all thanks to Style.

After the concert they end up standing by a glass window. "Thanks for coming with me," Fadel says and Style looks at him with the warmest, most loving, most adoring expression.

Of course Style accompanied him here. He had promised Fadel in episode 3 already that he would make Fadel 'scream' at some point (that is to have fun, basically) and now they're both here, Fadel is having a good time, and Style is happier and more in love than he could ever have imagined. Fadel continues his little thank you speech: "If it weren’t for you, I’d probably have sat alone over there." Style knows this very well. He saw him sit all by himself last time, refusing to have fun with Style. He saw Fadel stand by himself in the crowd. And even then he was of the opinion that "You’re supposed to have fun with your friends at a place like this". And now Fadel is here. Having fun with him. And there is absolutely no need for Fadel to thank Style, because just getting to see Fadel smile makes Style happy already.

However, as the night is coming to an end the happiness Style has been feeling is overshadowed by the knowledge of what is about to happen next. It's overshadowed by the knowledge that this is almost certainly the last time they'll get to spend time with each other like this. "You wanna come over tonight?" Style asks, "I want to cuddle you to sleep." He doesn't want this night to end. He wants to hold on to Fadel just a little longer, wants to hold him for as long as possible before all of this is over. And best case-scenario, he also manages to stop Fadel from going on the mission like he suggested when he was getting drinks with Kant.

He looks at Fadel with hopeful eyes. But Fadel declines. Style's dad is home and besides, Fadel's got work tomorrow. Work? This has Style listening up. He seizes the opportunity, just like he did back in episode 5 on the floor of the garage. He starts subtly grilling Fadel: "Grocery shopping? I’ll help." Which, by the way, is actually: "The market? I can go with you."

ตลาดหรอ เดี๋ยวกูไปด้วยได้นะ [dtà-làat - rŏr • dĭieow - guu - bpai - dûuay - d^^ai - ná] market - ? • moment - I - go - too, with - can - [particle]

And that makes me cry a little, because the market one of their spots by now. Like, of course Style would gladly go to the market with Fadel. But Fadel isn't going to the market. He tells Style he's doing something else. But Style already knows exactly what Fadel is doing and where he's going. Once again Style tries to get Fadel to spill the truth: "You’re doing a lot of second jobs, aren’t you? What else do you do besides working as a host? You can tell me. I won’t judge." I promise you I won't judge you for being a hitman. I already know this and I'm cool with it. And if you would just SAY it out loud already then I could tell you not to go through with the mission tomorrow. Then I could keep you by my side just a little longer. Please tell me. Style looks at Fadel with big eyes, full of hope and encouragement.

But Fadel does not say what Style wants him to say. Style is disappointed.

He leans back against the glass wall, upset. In the gif on the right it actually almost looks like he could start crying any moment now:

Fadel is confused, but amused, assuming Style is probably just being his usual overdramatic self. He laughs and asks Style what's wrong. Style side-eyes him, still upset and pouting.

This is potentially the last time they'll be together. Tomorrow Fadel will probably get arrested. Tomorrow Fadel will probably be taken away from him. And he can't even talk about it. Can't even stop him from going.

Fadel continues on:

You act like we're not going to see each other again just because we won't be spending the night together. แค่ไม่ได้นอนด้วยกันเองทำอย่างจะไม่ได้เจอกันอีก [kâe - mâi dâai - nawn - dûuay gan - eng - tam - yàang - jà - mâi dâai - jer gan - ìig] only - not - sleep - together - just - do - like - will - not - meet/see each other - again

Style might not be able to outright tell Fadel that he's acting like that because they actually, for real may very well never see each other again when the night is over, but at least he can try to be as honest about his feelings as possible: "It’s been a good night. I don’t want it to end." I don't want to say goodbye. Fadel tries to console him. "When I’m back, there’ll be more nights like this." Style so badly wants to believe him.

He looks at Fadel with big, hopeful eyes. You promise? Fadel nods. And I think, despite Style knowing that the police will interrupt Fadel's mission and that it won't go smoothly and will likely end in his arrest, I think despite all that deep down Style holds Fadel to that promise. And we can once again see how optimistic and especially how hopeful of a person he is. Now matter how bleak the situation seems right now, Fadel has promised to come back and Fadel has promised that they'll have more nights full of happiness together. And a promise is a promise, right? You can't simply just break it. And so Style hopes for the best. He might not be able to get him to stay but at least Fadel will be back. Because he promised.

They seal that promise with a kiss. And it's interesting, because Style doesn't immediately close his eyes when Fadel goes to kiss him but instead looks at him for a moment longer. And then his eyes keep fluttering open for a moment. It's almost as if he can't tear his eyes away from Fadel, as if he can't help but use every opportunity to look at Fadel, to catch every last glimpse of Fadel while he still has the opportunity to do so. They break apart and Fadel tells Style that he's (also) very happy tonight and Style (re)confirms his own happiness. They lean their foreheads against each other. And again, Style can't really close his eyes and fully sink into the moment the way Fadel can. It's like he tries to close his eyes but they keep fluttering open a second later because he just can't keep his eyes away from Fadel, is compelled to keep looking at him while he still can, while Fadel is still right there with him. And even when they break away from each other and turn to look out of the window towards the stage, it takes Style a couple of seconds to tear his eyes away from Fadel, who is already looking elsewhere:

After they've turned around, their hands find each other. And I think in that moment Style really needs that support through his distress and I think Fadel can feel it, even if he can't figure out what exactly is up with Style and why he is acting the way he's acting.

No. 7: Moving On

Fadel and Bison's mission has passed. Kant's brother nearly got caught in the crossfire. Kant wonders if Bison saved Babe. Kant guesses that Bison saved him. With that he also implies that if Bison was the one saving Babe (since Bison is the one who actually knows and recognizes Kant's brother), the one taking the shot must've been Fadel, implying that Fadel would have injured or killed Babe. But Style, who has been spending a lot of time with Fadel and has slowly been getting to know the real Fadel underneath all those walls, just can't imagine Fadel would shoot a random kid. When he asks Kant "You think Fadel would shoot Babe?" it's definitely in defense of Fadel. And that's interesting, because so far he's always been supportive of his bestie and his investigations. He hasn't always been happy about it, but he still never fought Kant about it. This is the first time we see Style actively go against Kant to stand on Fadel's side instead.

Style continues: "You think he knows you’re a snitch?" I think this is partly still a bit of an attack on Kant in his defense of Fadel in the sense of What, does Fadel to have a reason to kill your brother because you did a shitty job staying undiscovered? and partly a genuine question to find out if Fadel would actually have a motive to shoot Babe on the off chance that he did mean to do that. Not that Style actually believes that, though.

Kant says no and says that his work is over and that he's done being a snitch. This should be good news to Style, but Style doesn't look very comforted. In fact, Style barely acknowledges Kant's words. His mind is somewhere else, is with someone else. "I want to see Fadel." Once again we aren't simply just told through text that Style worries about Fadel but we are also shown. And on top of worrying, Style also misses him.

As so often when Style expresses genuine care and attachment to Fadel, Kant immediately disapproves: "Style! You have to get over it. You can’t ever get together with him. Move on." In Thai, Kant uses the word ตัดใจ [dtàt-jai] when he says "get over it". Thai2english defines this as:

to part with something, to give up something (somewhat unwillingly)

Style is unwilling to give Fadel up. He can't part with Fadel, no matter how much he knows he should if he wants to get out of that mess of a situation. "It’ll become a funny story," Kant says, but Style isn't laughing. He is miserable.

No. 8: Will They or Won't They (Come Back)

Fadel and Bison's mission hasn't gone to plan (neither for them, nor for the police), they've gone completely MIA and our two remaining love struck boys that were left behind now stop by the restaurant in the hopes of meeting them there in person if they're already not picking up their phones. However, Style and Kant find the restaurant abandoned as well. Style looks a little disappointed when he states that the diner is closed, but he's not necessarily all that surprised and he is definitely very concerned. Kant walks away from him to check the inside through the windows just in case and Style follows him. They run into the black cat and end up having a little chat.

And what's interesting about it is that during that little chat Style isn't even all that depressed, despite still not having any clue whatsoever about Fadel's whereabouts. In fact, he actually sounds kind of cheerful when he asks and talks about the cat, unlike in the scene before where he was simply just miserable. Style's tone as well as his expression do both get more serious when he says "I guess [the cat] misses Bison, then. He’s a food source, after all", but no matter how troubled he is about the whole situation, no matter how worried he is about Fadel's well-being and no matter how much he misses him, he won't let himself wallow in misery.

Kant says "Why do I have a feeling that this isn’t over? They can’t run forever, that’s for sure. If they haven’t completed their mission, they will definitely come back" and once again we see Style's optimism and bright outlook on life when he replies "I guess you’re right. Before things went down, you saw how attached they were to us". But similarly to the scene in the beginning when they were having drinks, Kant comes back with some realism: "No matter how much you love someone, you gotta prioritize saving your own butts, right?" Style thinks about it for a moment and raises his eyebrows like Yeah, I guess that's true...

Once again, his expression gets more serious and his smile fades but we know he's not giving up any hope of meeting Fadel again whatsoever, because he'll be back in a week to check on the restaurant again. And let's be real, the series might not have shown this to us but we all know Style went to the diner every single day of that week. Possibly even multiple times a day.

No. 9: Something Special to Eat

A week later and we see Style checking on the restaurant again, this time without Kant. And to his surprise and utter joy, the lights are on! Fadel is back and he looks well! Style stares at him through the window, breathes a small huff of relief, then shakes his head a little like he can't believe his eyes, like he can't believe that what he is seeing is real. As I mentioned before, I'm absolutely convinced Style went to the restaurant every single day for the past week and now it turns out that he was right not to give up, not to lose hope, to stay optimistic like he always is. Style's joy about Fadel's return manifests in his whole entire body as he hops and skips through the restaurant doors.

Once inside, Fadel doesn't seem surprised to see him. He doesn't even say hello, but immediately opens up with the words: "I was thinking of going to your place. But you were more impatient than me, huh?"

Language side note, for all you language nerds out there... In Thai the "you were more impatient" is actually only implied, not explicitly stated:

I haven't gotten round to go see you yet. กูยังไม่ทันไปหามึงเลย [guu - yang - mâi tan - bpai hăa - mueng - loiie] I - yet - not be able to (do sth in/on time) - go visit - you - [particle] You came running to see me. มึงมาหากูซะละ [mueng - maa hăa - guu - sá - lá] you - come visit - I/me - [particle] - [particle]

(For the second sentence I decided to translate it as "you came running" because the particle ซะ [sá] can imply that the action should be done quickly. And Style did come running very quickly the moment Fadel was back.)

And when Style replies "Where have you been?" his words are also a little more dramatic in the original, as is fit for his personality:

Where did you disappear to for so long? มึงหายไปไหนตั้งนานอ่ะ [mueng - hăai bpai - năi - dtâng naan - àh] you - disappear - where - for a long time - [particle]

(It's basically "Where have you been for so long?")

A whole week is a long time to not see your boyfriend, especially when you know something bad has happened and you have no idea if he's alright or not. And so Style rightly complains. Fadel says that his phone broke and that he had to change both his phone and his number. Style throws him an almost disappointed look. He knows that this is a lie (or at least the "my phone broke" part probably is. Fadel might have had to change his number for real when he went into hiding). And more importantly, it only explains why Fadel wasn't replying to his texts. It does not answer Style's question of "where have you been?" and so Style is left none the wiser. Fadel says that he was busy and Style continues to complain: "And you didn’t think to contact me a little? I was worried sick about you, you know?" And we saw that. We got to see how Style was worrying when he was longing to see Fadel after hearing how Babe nearly got injured and we saw it when Style checked the restaurant at the very least two times, once with Kant and once by himself (and let's be real, he definitely went more than twice, we just didn't get to witness it). We see it even now in the way he complains to Fadel about him ignoring Style for a full week. Style thought he was saying goodbye to Fadel at the concert because the police would be ripping Fadel away from him but then that didn't actually happen because Fadel managed to escape and Style spent a full week worrying about him, missing him, longing to see him. And then Fadel is back and he's doing well and he didn't even think to tell Style about it. Style has every right to complain and Fadel should know it, too.

Fadel complains about Style's complaining and then offers to make him food like a peace offering and/or an apology. And fun fact, when he says "Anything you'd like to eat?" in Thai it's:

Anything special you wanna eat? อยากกินอะไรเป็นพิเศษป่ะล่ะ [yàak - gin - àrai - bpen pí-sèt - bpà - lâ] want - eat - anything - that is special - ? - [particle]

I'm telling you, when I heard Fadel say the words "eat" and "special" in the same sentence I immediately expected Style to say "you". I think I even said the word "you" at my screen when I watched the episode for the first time. And then Style DIDN'T. He just... didn't say it. When it was literally right there. I'm truly disappointed in him ngl.

Style does not say "you", instead he sits down and let's Fadel decide on the menu and compliments his cooking. Fadel is immediately sus about the sweet talking and asks: "Did you do something wrong?" Style doesn't know that this is a very pointed question, has absolutely no idea that Fadel is currently suspecting him of snitching to the police. "No," Style replies, but his voice doesn't sound entirely genuine. It's not a full lie but it's also not entirely sincere. Did he do anything wrong? It's hard to say. Technically he isn't the one to tip off the police so technically this isn't something he's done wrong. Style also knows a lot more than he should and that's also not something that he's necessarily doing wrong per se, but it's still something he's keeping from Fadel which could be considered wrong. And one could also say that not explicitly warning Fadel about how the police would be at their mission wasn't right. So technically there is something he did do wrong and that he could be feeling guilty about. No matter whether he really did do something wrong or not, Style chooses to deflect and distract anyway. And he changes the topic to something that really is completely true this time: "I just really missed you." Although, when he says "Is it so weird to get a little affectionate?" it's almost a bit of a challenge. Tell me again how I'm doing something wrong. Style continues: "You know, all this time apart really frustrated me." And there we finally have it. The "I want to eat you" bit.

I think at this point it's pretty obvious that Style is being genuine about his flirting, but I just wanna point out that what I noticed before about how Style acts when he truly wants Fadel continues to hold up: instead of being loud and performative, Style gets quiet, goes almost into a whisper by the end of the sentence. And he also gets handsy with Fadel. He reaches for Fadel's nipple specifically and it works. Fadel is very much distracted. But he stops Style because this is not something Fadel wants to do in the middle of his restaurant in front of a wall of glass windows (probably? Who knows with them 🤷🏼‍♀️). Fadel decides on making spaghetti for Style who approves and fondly smiles at Fadel. They keep holding on to each other's hands for as long as possible as Fadel turns around to walk off and I cry and then I cry some more about the way Style once again can't tear his eyes away from Fadel.

No. 10: Oh, I Wish That You Hadn't Pulled the Trigger

It's later in the evening, Style has presumably finished eating (and maybe Fadel, too?) and now they're both wiping down the restaurant. And once again we see something that I've been talking about for the last few episodes now: Style likes helping. Fadel explicitly tells him that he doesn't have to help and that Fadel will do it himself, so likely Style just grabbed the cloth and started wiping without a second thought while Fadel had his back turned. Because helping people is something that comes to Style naturally. He wants to help. And so he insists on continuing to help with the cleaning and, if it makes Fadel feel better about it, offers Fadel to think of it as payment for the free food.

And I know this meta is actually about Style, but I see Fadel watch Style for a moment after Style said that and I can't help but remember how Style was there in episode 3, helping Fadel out at the restaurant when Bison was nowhere to be found and now Style is here again, helping Fadel out at the restaurant without hesitation and of his own free will and I can't help but think that this is probably one of the things that Fadel has come to love about Style. Style is here and he helps and supports Fadel no questions asked. Which make the news he is about to hear even more painful. And right on cue, Fadel's phone rings.

Fadel steps outside to talk to Bison. In the meantime inside, Style moves on to wipe the next table. He lifts his head just in time to catch Fadel looking at him through the window. Style smiles at him fondly.

Style is so happy that Fadel is back, is so content to be around him. The night of the concert wasn't a goodbye after all. He had bid farewell to Fadel internally already but now he gets to have a new beginning after all. Style is overjoyed.

Then Fadel comes back inside, proceeds to turn on some music and Style is confused as to why he would do that. Fadel asks if he can't get romantic and Style calls him out for scolding him earlier about Style being too sweet and cheesy only to turn around all of a sudden and wanting to be romantic after all. Style has absolutely no idea that Fadel sees him in a completely different light now, but I think he can tell that something is kinda off and that the phone call might have had something to with Fadel's sudden change of mood. So Style asks what Bison said. And Style being Style who cares about his loved ones also wants to know if Bison is with Kant. Fadel confirms. Style comments that Bison probably missed Kant. And right after the sentence is out of his mouth, for just a split second before it cuts back to Fadel we can see a very pleased smile form on Style's face.

Bison wasn't the only one missing someone. Style was too. He was missing Fadel so very much and he was worried sick about him and now Fadel is back, Fadel is standing right in front of him in the flesh and everything is all good in this world. Of course, Style is pleased.

And then Fadel says "I also missed you". Style's eyes widen in surprise, his expression serious now. Ever since they officially started dating Fadel has been saying things like "we're on trial" and "I won't ever trust you 100%" and while he did admit to being very happy earlier in the episode at the concert, I think Style wasn't really expecting Fadel to suddenly be so open about his feelings, almost out of nowhere without any obvious triggers. But then Fadel continues his confession by telling Style that there is no one messing with him when Style isn't there. Ah, there he is, that old nagger that Style has come to love. A compliment that comes in the form of an insult. That's more like him. Style is amused and in a lovingly teasing, but also slightly serious tone asks if he's just an annoyance to Fadel and whether that's a good thing or a bad thing. Fadel is quick to assure him that it's a good thing: "Having someone to miss is good. It makes me want to go to the market and go jogging with the hopes of running into you."

Did you notice that I changed something in Fadel's wording just now? Because the official subs wrote "grocery shopping" instead of "the market" and once again I just don't understand the decision to translate it like that because the market is literally one of their spots!! It's not the action of grocery shopping that's important here, it's the place!!! Because Fadel is likely doing some of his grocery shopping at a supermarket too, but it's when he shops at the market place specifically where he has memories with Style!!!

In fact, let me just share Fadel's exact wording of the whole bit:

Having you to miss is a good thing. การมีมึงไว้ให้คิดถึงเนี่ยมันดีนะเว้ย [gaan mii - mueng - wái - hâi - kít-tĕung - nîia - man - dii - na wóiie] having - you - to - miss - [particle] - it - good - [particle] It makes me want to go to the market, มันทำให้กูอยากไปตลาด [man - tam hâi - guu - yàak - bpai - dtà-làat] it - make that - I - want - go - market go jogging in the morning, ไปวิ่งตอนเช้า [bpai - wîng - dton cháao] go - run, jog - in the morning because I'm hoping I'll get to meet you. เพราะหวังว่าจะได้เจอมึง [próh - wăng wâa - jà - dâai - jer - mueng] because - hope that - will - get to - meet - you

And also a little bit earlier when he tells Style "I’ve got no one messing with me when you’re not there":

Without you, there is no one messing up my life. ไม่มีมึงอ่ะ ไม่มีใครมาป่วนชีวิตกู [mâi mii - mueng - àh • mâi mii krai - maa - bpùuan - chii-wít - guu] without - you - [particle] • no one - come - be chaotic - life - I/my

This confession is a parallel to his "I hate that I don't hate you" confession: In episode 4 Fadel said "I don't like you messing up my life" and now in episode 6 he says "Without you, there is no one messing up my life". In episode 4 Fadel said "I don’t like myself when I look for you on the morning jog or at the market" and now in episode 6 Fadel says "It makes me want to go to the market and go jogging in the morning with the hopes of running into you". In episode 4 Fadel said "I don’t like that I miss you." and now in episode 6 he says "I've missed you. Having someone to miss is good."

It's his confession from episode 4 but this time it's romantic and Style even points it out very amusedly, but is also very happy about it: "Are we officially entering romantic territory?" Fadel says that he wants to do what lovers do and Style tells him "I don’t want you to do what you don’t want to do". Or in his exact wording:

I don't want you to do anything that isn't you. กูไม่อยากให้มึงทำอะไรที่ไม่ใช่ตัวเองนะเว้ย [guu - mâi - yâak - hâi - mueng - tam - arai - tîi - mâi châi - dtue eng - ná wóiie] I - not - want - that - you - do - anything - that - not - yourself

Fadel told him at the concert that he wanted to see the real Style, but the same goes the other way around. Style wants Fadel to be the real him, too. And he doesn't want him to do anything that isn't the real him. But Fadel replies:

But I can be like you want me to be. แต่กูสามารถเป็นอย่างที่มึงอยากให้กูเป็นได้ [dtàe - guu - săa-mâat - bpen - yàang - tîi - mueng - yàak - hâi - guu - bpen - dâai] but - I - be able to - be - like - that, which - you - want - for, to - I/me - be - be able to (cont.)

It's a loaded statement. And it has Style confused.

It's the exact opposite of what Style wants. Style wants Fadel to be himself, Style doesn't want him to live a life that Style tells him to live. Style doesn't understand and while there are questions written all over his face, he doesn't ask any of them out loud. He stays quiet and smiles a little in uncertainty (He's currently living through a happy little romantic moment with his boyfriend, right? Right?? That's definitely what's happening here, isn't it???) as he waits for Fadel to continue and to maybe elaborate. Fadel takes a step towards him and says:

I think... I already love you. กูว่า...กูรักมึงแล้วว่ะ [guu - wâa... guu - rák - mueng - láew - wâ] i - think... i - love - you - already - [particle]

(Alt. translations: "I think... I love you" or "I think... I love you now")

Style is delighted to hear these words. Distracted from his bemusement from only seconds ago he smiles a satisfied smile. He's been so open and honest about his own feelings and finally Fadel is opening up too and giving back. Style happily kisses Fadel in response.

He, too, loves Fadel. He loves him and he's missed him and he's been worried sick about him when he didn't hear from him for a full week and didn't know how he was doing and now Fadel is back, Fadel is well, they get to have more nights like the night of the concert together, they get to be together for longer than Style thought they would. Life is great.

After they part, they lean their foreheads against each other. When they did it at the concert, Style's eyes kept flickering to Fadel's face. Here at the diner Style can sink into the moment and into the touch a lot more now that he knows this isn't gonna be the last night he'll be together with Fadel. (I've hit image limit, but here's a parallel gifset.) He does look up at Fadel at one point, almost as if to check if Fadel is still there, that he is real, that this is not a dream. And maybe it's also to check on him, since he's been acting a bit weird since the phone call. But then Style closes his eyes again and sinks into the moment one more time, just like when Fadel leaned into him. The two move into a hug as they sway from side to side. Style can neither see nor feel Fadel's tears dropping onto his back.

Of course I'm gonna have to wait to see what future episodes bring before I can say for sure, but honestly speaking, I do think Style can kind of tell that something is off about Fadel after his phone call with Bison. Style immediately clocks that Fadel is behaving strange the moment Fadel turns on the music, Style calls Fadel out for suddenly being romantic when only shortly before that he was telling Style off for being sweet, he gets confused when Fadel goes "I can be like you want me to be" when that's the exact opposite of what Style has been asking for and there is also something in the way Style really sinks into the forehead touch but then his eyes open and flicker to Fadel as if he's checking on him (almost as if he was also checking that Fadel was still there and hasn't gone away again, as if Style can feel that Fadel is in the process of saying goodbye to him). Fadel is in a weird mood and that mood probably does reach Style. But the thing is, Style is missing a key piece of the puzzle and even if he can tell that something is off, to Style it still looks like a happy picture. To Style it still is a happy picture. And what Style doesn't know, but what we, the viewers, can very much see coming is that this happy illusion will burst soon enough.

[almostfoxglove]

So I’m sure you have, but just in case you haven’t I wanted to ask: have you seen Pedro’s monologue on YouTube by the name of “For All the Lovesick Mad Sad Geniuses”? Because I only found that recently and I. That shit is CRAZY.

“And you laughed at me ‘cause I fucked it up… and I kissed you. And you let me?”

“And it rained, like we were in a fuckin’ movie. And life was never better than that…”

POV: shot to the heart.

ANON oh my god, okay so I knew about this video and had previously watched approximately 20 seconds of it and then promptly had to turn it off because it was too much HE'S TOO MUCH - do you ever get that feeling?? like I love this too much to watch it, it might kill me?? (same with the video of him reading that romeo & juliet passage in spanish - I don't think I've made it further than 30 seconds into that one because he's just ---- I CAN'T)

ANYWAY I was a big brave girl and finally watched the whole thing after you sent this and dsdhafkjshfksjlhdf holy shit, you're so right. I do indeed feel I've been shot in the heart. I also couldn't shake the feeling that this like manic, heartbroken energy is just so the energy of the voicemail javier leaves in I'll Carry You (dark heart specifically) - the dialogue obviously doesn't really line up but oh my god my heart was in my THROAT like that's how he sounded!! so broken up and frantic and desperate I JUST CANNOT GO ON

all of that's to say, thank you for making me finally watch the whole thing. he's so fucking good. AND SO ARE YOU <3 now excuse me I have some yearning to do...

[bedtimegiraffe]

Meeting Aerin in the Afterlife if He Left the Party

Oooooh, I have the screenshots of what happens if Aerin never came back during Book 2 and they are good!

Here's what happens once the party you actually brought with you is all accounted for:

And after everyone's well deserved breakdown:

And from here, you have a few options:

Rude

Rude and funny

And the most surprising of all (don't mind the background drift on this playthrough):

My personal thoughts:

It's super interesting that MC introduces Aerin as the heir to Morella, not the guy who summoned the Dreadlord.

I find it so funny that even after months hanging out in the Shadow Realm together, no one ever once mentioned Aerin to Valax. Not even to talk shit.

Aerin, please never prove your awful father right again! At least it took Aerin a couple months to get mauled? Unless there's still a time difference between Realms...

Cause of death is also interesting to me. No offense meant, but hiding is kind of one of Aerin's best things.

I'm playing at the general release pace, but if more interesting changes come up, I'll post them as I play!

[rosicheeks]

-

[blog-of-reaction]

Final opinions. I love Kisa. Carlito is just awesome (and he looked so proud and happy for Kisa at the end) and I love him.

Seth is the best. Richie is really a tactical genius. I love them.

Kate’s character arc was great. I love her.

Scott is going off to live his best life with his friends playing in a band and only feeding on guilty people. I love him.

Freddie was great. Guy deserves some peace and quiet. I love him.

[risingsunresistance]

i lied so hard on that old post of ppl saying they'd never been through this before and asking if it gets better and i talked about edd and said it does get better. i was 11 and did not process what happened and moved on and thought that i had "accepted it," now im 21 and actually realize what's going on and it is NOT getting better

[depresseddepot]

SO THERE'S THIS GREY WARDEN NAMED ALISTAIR...........

[6mayhem]

but i would give anything for just one day spent in the life i had when i was 15. it may not have been perfect but i felt like i belonged somewhere. and i didn't worry so goddamn much about the big picture

[maxtermind]

Can I request some more angst 🫠🫠 I’m a sucker for your sad fics

tell me, why'd you have to hit-and-run me?

★ : summary :: finding out your boyfriend was dared to date you ★ : feat :: max verstappen, lewis hamilton, carlos sainz, charles leclerc, lando norris ★ : genre :: ANGST; no hea ★ : word count :: 4k+ ★ : a/n :: how are we feeling with the daily posts ending tom and shifting to alternate day posting🤭 babe you asked for angst and i delivered, lmk how you like it <3 bet y'all thought you needed tissues for something else😏

Max Verstappen

“Mate, you still haven’t told her?” you heard Lando whisper, making your eyebrows shoot up. What were they talking about? As you finally decided to approach your boyfriend and his friend, you heard Max whisper.

It was low, so low that you almost didn’t catch it, but the way your hand froze on the knob and the utter stillness of your heartbeat indicated that you heard him loud and clear when he slowly said, “I don’t know how to.”

That. That was the reason you froze. You were processing what you heard. Your heart pulled from its rightful place—no, it was ripped out.

God, you thought, anything but that. Anything but cheating because how could you even confront him if he confessed to cheating on you right there on the spot in front of one of his friends?

“It has been going on for too long, Max.” Lando took a deep breath. “You should tell her you love her; she’ll understand.”

Ah. Okay, he loves you; this was okay. But then why was your heart still beating so loudly that you could hear it in your ears?

“How do you think I should go about it?” Max asked, and that was when you finally had enough. You turned the knob, but Lando was already speaking, and his words had you freeze again.

The boys' heads snapped up, eyes wide when they saw you walk in. You felt your eyes burn as Lando’s last words finally processed.

“You should’ve thought about it before you decided to make a stupid bet with those dumb men.”

“Bet?” you wondered aloud as you saw Max stumble over to you. What bet?

“No bet!” you heard your panicked boyfriend almost scream. You were so confused you didn’t even know what you were saying out loud.

“For fuck’s sake,” Lando said as he stood from the couch, glaring at Max. “Y/N deserves to know.” You kept your eyes on Max, trying to gauge an explanation from his clearly messed-up state.

“I’m sorry, Y/N,” you finally looked at your boyfriend’s best friend. “I clearly shouldn’t have trusted Max to—”

“I think you should leave,” Max groaned out as if it pained him to hear Lando talk, almost hissing out the last word. They started bickering back and forth, and through your hazy mind, you could only make out a few words.

But they were enough. You took a deep breath as you stepped away from Max towards the door. He was too busy focusing on Lando anyway.

“Y.. you’re saying I was a bet?” Your voice cut through the chaos, and it was Max’s turn to go dead silent and freeze on the spot.

“You asked me ou—” Oh god, you didn’t want to cry, “—because of a dare?”

Max’s eyes were wide with horror, his face pale as he took a step toward you, his hands reaching out in desperation. “No, Y/N, it’s not like that, please, let me explain.”

You shook your head, tears streaming down your cheeks uncontrollably. “Explain what, Max?” Your voice cracked on the last word, the pain too raw to hold back when you saw Max was also crying. “How a…all i have be— this relationship has been is a fucking lie?” The moment you said it out loud, you heard Lando take in a sharp breath. Max looked disheveled, he could just tell that this was the only time he could repair this. You looked a minute away from walking out and the thought of that had him talking even through his closed up throat.

His voice broke, choked with emotion. “No, Y/N, I swear, it wasn’t like that. It started as a stupid dare, yes, but then... then I fell in love with you. I fell so hard, it—” His words stumbled over each other, barely coherent through his tears. “I called the whole thing off.”

You cut him off, your voice trembling and thick with hurt. “You should have told me right then. As soon as you called it off, you sho—” Your body shook, barely able to stand under the weight of your heartbreak. “How could you do this to m.. me?”

Max rushed forward to hold your hands, breathing heavily to get himself under control so he could talk as he sobbed. “I was so fucking scared, Y/N. I didn’t want to lose you. You mean everything to me.”

You looked down at your joined hands, feeling your heart shatter all over again. It was one thing to know someone’s apology was sincere and another to know that they had faked being sincere from the very beginning. So how could you even tell the difference now? Your voice came out in a broken whisper. “How can I trust you now? How can I believe anything you say?” You were almost gasping for breath, each word an effort as you tried to hold back the sobs wracking your body.

Lando’s voice was soft but firm from behind you, though his own eyes were hard. “He’s telling the truth, Y/N. He was an idiot, but he’s been head over heels for you for a long time.”

Max’s tear-streaked face looked up at you, his eyes pleading. “Please, Y/N. I’ll do anything to make it up to you. Anything. Just... don’t leave me.” His voice broke, the last word coming out as a wail of despair.

You turned away, unable to bear the sight of him, your voice barely above a whisper but laced with raw agony. “I can’t be here.” You could barely see through your tears, your entire body trembling.

Max’s anguished sobs followed you as you walked away, your heart feeling like it was being torn from your chest with every step. The pain was unbearable, and you stumbled, nearly collapsing under the weight of your sorrow but Lando caught you as he held you by your shoulders.

You needed to be alone, to process everything, and to decide if love could truly overcome betrayal. But right now, it felt like your world was ending.

Lewis Hamilton

“Y/N, baby please—”

Lewis’s voice pleaded as you shut the door behind, your heart splintering into a thousand pieces. Tears blurred your vision as you staggered away from your apartment, the weight of betrayal crushing your chest.

To think that you used to gush about him, about this, the vague lie you had to others. Not even a few steps away from your apartment, you were bent over, retching into a nearby dustbin.

How could luck be so cruel? How could you have been so blind?

You wandered the streets, tears falling down your cheeks as your brain replayed the moments when Lewis first approached you at a random club party, despite your friends warning you that someone like him must have nefarious reasons. But you were smitten.

“I’m sorry, but I don't know what you’re doing here,” you had said to him, feeling your heart beat faster when a smirk adorned his face in return. He looked majestic under the club lights. “Where else would I be?” he muttered, mesmerized as he looked at you, “If not with the most beautiful girl in this club?”

He made you feel special, validated in a way you had never felt before. Now, the memory turned sour in your mind, leaving you feeling sick and disgusted. You dry heaved again.

At least he had the decency to confess. Standing here in the cold, his words from when he sat you down with him echoed in your ears— his pleading, his apologies, his desperate attempts to explain. But what did it matter now?

“How could you?” you whispered, thump! thump! thump! your heart pumped as you heard it in your ears, your voice barely audible through the tears streaming down your cheeks. “Was I just a game to you?” That was the first thing you said after his almost ten-minute rant.

You had stopped listening though, right when he had told you what exactly made him approach you. Your first meeting was so magical, so precious to you, but it was all ruined now.

His friend had dared him because Lewis’ morale was down. He was having the worst day of his life after losing an almost sure race win, and his friends knew the only way to cheer him up was through a challenge.

Lewis reached out when he saw that you were lost in your thoughts, his voice desperate and shaky. “No, Y/N, please listen to me—”

You shook your head, cutting him off. “Don’t. Just don’t…”

“Please,” he pleaded, looking nothing like the man you loved, his voice cracking with emotion. “I love you, Y/N. I messed up, but I love you more than anything.”

You felt your heart breaking all over again because you genuinely couldn’t recognize the man standing in front of you— the man who had played you, was probably still playing you. “You should have thought about that before…”

Unable to bear another moment, you left, leaving his words hanging in the air like a dark cloud. You were nothing more than a pawn in his game of masculine pride and insecurity. The realization hit you like a freight train, leaving you gasping for air as you collapsed against a nearby wall, sobs wracking your body.

How could someone who once made you feel so alive now leave you feeling so broken?

Carlos Sainz

The evening was warm, and the restaurant buzzed with laughter and conversation. You sat with your boyfriend, Carlos, his friends, and a few of your own. It was a casual dinner, the kind you rarely held since Carlos was so busy.

“I can't believe we wouldn’t be here if I hadn’t dared Carlos to ask you out,” Javier chuckled as he saw you lean forward to kiss your boyfriend.

Laughter erupted around the table but quickly died down when they realized the utter horror on your face. An uncomfortable silence settled in, and you noticed the tension.

Your wide eyes moved from one face to another, finally landing on Carlos, whose expression had turned serious. He glared at Javier, and you sensed something was wrong. You felt uncomfortable, and the need to flee clutched you.

“What do you mean?” you asked, your voice small yet cutting through the awkwardness as you held Carlos’ hand under the table. He squeezed it in return.

“Uh, nothing,” Javier stammered, realizing his mistake. His discomfort was evident, triggering your fight-or-flight response.

You turned to Carlos. “What’s going on?” Your voice held a very tiny hope, hoping this was all a prank that would be over soon.

He sighed as he squeezed your hand again, his frustration evident. “We should talk about this at home.”

You pulled your hand away from his, your confusion and hurt growing. The others at the table exchanged looks of pity, further igniting your anger.

“No, we’re talking about it here. What’s going on?” you demanded as a shaky breath left your lips.

Carlos looked around nervously, rubbing the back of his neck. “I didn’t want to tell you like this.” He stopped himself again.

“Tell me what?” Your voice grew louder, drawing the attention of nearby diners.

Before he could respond, one of your friends, Beatrice, chimed in, “Just tell her, for God’s sake!” You looked at her in solitude, glad that you had some kind of support here.

“I dared Carlos to ask you out as a joke!” Javier blurted out just as you were managing to form a small smile to pass to your friend.

Your heart pounded in your chest. “What?” The chair creaked under you as you pushed it away from the table, and your boyfriend held your hand again.

“Please, it wasn’t like that,” Carlos tried to calm you down, but he was panicking himself. He was still whispering that you could not feel anything else in the world anymore. That was enough evidence.

You stood up, knocking your chair over as you once again snatched your hand away from his. “Wasn’t like what? You made me believe this was fucking real!”

Other diners began to whisper and pull out their phones, recording the scene as he stood up as well. With a desperate look, Carlos reached out to you, but you stepped back.

“This whole time, I was just a fucking… dare to you?” you shouted.

People around the restaurant started filming, their phones pointed at the escalating scene. Carlos's anger boiled over. He grabbed a nearby phone and smashed it against the table. The room fell silent, shocked gasps filling the air.

“Carlos, stop!” One of his friends tried to pull him back.

“You all think this is funny?” Carlos yelled at the onlookers, distracted now, and you knew what you were going to do as he turned around to yell again. “Get your own fucking life!”

You stood up, tears streaming down your face. “I’m done with this,” you said, your voice breaking. You were already walking away when you felt your friend follow you.

As you left the restaurant, you could hear the whispers and see the flashes of cameras. You knew this would go viral, but at that moment, you didn’t care. Your heart ached with betrayal and anger.

Carlos realized a bit too late that you were gone. Frustrated, he ran out to catch up with you and tried to call you again and again.He didn't know at the time that he would never catch a hold of you after this.

Charles Leclerc

You were scrolling through social media when a notification from an unknown sender caught your attention. Despite knowing that you shouldn’t, curiosity got the better of you, and you clicked on the thumbnail showing your boyfriend at a party.

The video started playing. It was from months ago, showing Charles in an outfit that you recognized but couldn’t remember from where. Ethan's voice could be heard clearly over the music. “I dare you to ask that girl out,” Ethan said, laughing, but you still couldn’t tell who he was pointing at. “Bet you can't do it.”

Charles grinned, looking a little tipsy. “You're on,” he replied, to the cheers and jeers of his friends. The grainy video ended with Charles approaching you. A deafening silence enveloped you when you realized this was from the day you first met him.

Charles had a determined look on his face, but the video faded into the background. Your thoughts echoed painfully in the emptiness, the truth of your lover's betrayal reverberating within you.

Your heart sank further as you sat in silence to process. You felt a rush of emotions— betrayal, hurt, and anger. Tears welled up in your eyes as you replayed the video, hoping it was some sort of sick joke. But the evidence was right there, undeniable.

At that moment, the door to the apartment opened, and Charles walked in, a smile on his face. “Hey, love. What are you up to?” he asked, not noticing your distress at first.

You turned to him, your eyes brimming with tears. “What is this?” you demanded, holding up your phone with the video paused at the damning moment.

Charles's smile faded instantly, replaced by a look of horror. “Baby, how did you—” he started, stepping towards you as he felt the room spin a bit, all the blood rushing to his head.

“Does it matter?” you snapped, your voice shaking with anger as tears gathered under your eyes. “When you only even looked at me because of a stupid bet?”

“It started as a bet, yes,” Charles admitted, his voice pained. “But it's not like that now. I fell in love with you, Y/N. Everything we've had since then has been real.” He was quickly getting closer to you, but you flinched away and that stopped him dead in his tracks.

You shook your head, unable to believe what you were hearing. “Who the fuck do you think you are?” You were so angry, your ears so warm that it wouldn’t be impossible if smoke started coming out of them.

Charles reached out, but you stepped back once again. “Please, Y/N. I was an idiot. I shouldn't have agreed to that dare, but I did. And yes, that's how it started. But the moment I got to know you, everything changed. I love you more than anything.”

“Do you have any idea just how humiliating this is?” you shouted, your voice breaking. “I thought what we had was special. I thought it was real. And now I find out it was all… a gamble to you.” You hated that you were showing him so many emotions but fuck, it hurt so much and you wish you could hurt him back.

“It is not a gamble,” Charles pleaded, tears forming in his eyes. “Not after I got to know you. You're the best thing that's ever happened to me. Please, don't let this ruin us.” He could actually feel you slipping through his fingers.

“Fuck you, you’re the one who ruined this!” you said, turning away, trying to gather your thoughts, willing yourself to leave and hating yourself when you couldn’t. “Seriously,” you said quietly, not looking at him. “Fuck you.” You laid emphasis to show that you actually meant the words. “You’ve ruined me”

“Baby,” Charles's voice broke when he heard you say that he ruined you, but the way you glared at him because of the nickname had him backtracking. “Y/N, please just let me show you how that was all a lie. I love you. I can't fucking lose you over this.”

You walked to the door, needing to escape the suffocating atmosphere. “It is still all a lie,” you declared in a voice that showed you were shutting down, barely above a whisper.

As you stepped out of the apartment, you heard Charles crying behind you, but you didn’t stop to mend his heart because you couldn't even feel yours in your chest.

Lando Norris

Lando’s phone buzzed with notifications as he stepped out of the room and you glanced at it absentmindedly, not intending to invade his privacy. But the screen lit up with messages from his friends’ group chat, and the first few lines caught your eye, seeing your name in them.

“Can’t believe Lando actually went through with it.” “I know, right? It’s hilarious that she still doesn’t know!”

Your heart sank as you read further, each message a dagger to your trust. They were discussing you— about Lando making a bet involving you. Your hands trembled, and you scrolled through the conversation, your worst fears unfolding before your eyes.

“Thought he’d be gloating but he hasn’t contacted at all.” “Shit, man, he’s been with her for a year. I'm not paying him that much!”

You felt sick to your stomach. The room spun around you as you struggled to comprehend the magnitude of the betrayal. All those times you believed in Lando, trusted him with your heart— were they all just part of a cruel scheme? A fucking game?

You heard Lando approaching, unaware that you had seen everything. His smile faded as he saw the look on your face, the phone still clutched tightly in your hand.

“What’s wrong?” he asked cautiously, sensing the tension in the air as he approached you with wide eyes.

This has happened before. Lando was always scared of coming home and finding it empty because you had found out about something he was afraid to tell you but in the past he was always wrong. It was a show, a friend, a book making you cry but today was different.

You held up the phone, your voice trembling with a mix of anger and hurt. “Care to explain this?”

Lando’s expression shifted from confusion to dread as he realized what had just happened. He opened his mouth to speak, but you cut him off with a bitter laugh.

“Fuck, you really had me convinced!” Your voice was sharp, cutting through the air like a knife. “You made a bet? How much have you made so far, Mr. Norris?”

“Don't say that,” Lando looked like you had slapped him across his face. He reached out to you, his face pleading for forgiveness. “Y/N, I swear it wasn’t like that—”

“How much was it?” you demanded, the words laced with bitterness. “Bet you made a lot the day you finally got laid, huh?” “No!” Your boyfrie— ex-boyfriend screamed. His eyes were carrying moisture and you couldn’t help but scoff but he carried on. “I never took a single penny, Y/N. I.. I promise, I hadn’t even talked to them since the day i realized what assholes they were and—”

Lando’s face fell, his words faltering as he rushed forward to catch you in his arms, his tears finally falling once he saw your wet face. But the truth hung heavy in the silence between you, suffocating any hope of reconciliation.

Tears fell down your cheeks onto his arm as he kissed your head and whispered sweet nothings and sorry, I’m so sorry so so sorry sorry sorry, again and again against your head, blurring your vision. “I trusted you,” you whispered, voice breaking. “I loved you.”

The weight of it all settled on you, and you sank deeper into the couch, overwhelmed by the betrayal. The anger that fueled you moments ago now gave way to a deep, searing pain. How could he have done this to you?

Lando kneeled down before you, his own tears betraying the magnitude of his mistake. “I’m sorry,” he choked out, reaching for you. “I never meant for you to find out.”

He carried on but your ears started ringing when the words registered. Wouldn’t a person with nothing to be guilty about, accept the truth and make up? Why was he so hell bent on keeping it under a hush?

His words felt hollow, empty promises in the wake of his betrayal and you cut him off as you pushed him away from you . “Get out,” you managed to say, your voice hoarse.

Lando hesitated, torn between wanting to explain and knowing that no explanation would mend what was broken. “Please,” you whispered and it was so small, so scared that he got up immediately and nodded.

He kissed your head again and you let him linger as you closed your eyes,“I.. I’ll be back, baby.” With a final, agonized look at you, he turned and left, leaving you alone in the wreckage of your shattered trust.

The silence enveloped you, broken only by your ragged breaths and the echoes of his footsteps fading away. You hugged yourself tightly, trying to hold together the pieces of your heart that he had callously shattered.

As the tears continued to fall, you felt a different kind of ache—the ache of knowing that the love you had believed in was now a painful memory because yes, he was coming back but you wouldn’t be here.

Later, Lando would enter the house in hopes of finding you but just like his worst nightmare, you wouldn’t be there. You wouldn’t be there to hold him as he’ll slowly lose it running across the house while he’ll look for you. None of your things would be there.

Yes, he destroyed you but also himself.

( writing masterlist \ main masterlist \ drop a request ) ©maxtermind // do not copy, rewrite or translate any of my work on any platforms.

[obsesssedblerd]

Part Four: "I promise, I'll make this right."

- the jjk men promising to be a better partner for you after they forget your anniversary. 

final written part of this smau series.

Pt 1: Toji, Nanami, Geto, and Sukuna

update: gojo, shiu and choso here

contains: angst to comfort

a/n: AHHHHH FINALLY!!!! here's part one! sorry for any mistakes!

thank you so much for being patient. I appreciate it. <3

---

TOJI 

Before you can even knock on the door to Toji’s house, it flies open. Five year-old Megumi drops his dog plushie and rushes to hug your legs, his body shaking as he looks up at you with teary eyes. “Where’d you go? I was scared that you weren’t coming back.” 

“Aw, Gumi,” you sigh, reaching down to pick him up so you could hug him closer to you. “I’m sorry, honey.” 

“Please don’t leave,” he whimpers between sniffles. “Me, Tsumiki and Papa would be so sad. He’s already sad. He was crying yesterday.” 

You knew it. You thought your mind was playing tricks on you when Toji came to see you yesterday, but you heard correctly—he was crying. Your heart aches at the utter fear in Megumi’s voice, and the way he’s clinging to you, like he’s certain that you’d disappear if he didn’t. You had greatly underestimated how much you meant to him.

“Megs?! You can’t just open the door for anyone! It’s dangerous—” Toji gasps when he comes downstairs and sees you there, holding Megumi and comforting him. He stands there frozen, eyes wide with disbelief. 

One look at his eyes confirms what you heard last night. They were a little red and slightly puffy.

“Sweetheart,” you whisper to the boy in your arms, “I need to talk to your dad, alright? Why don’t you head back inside?” 

He nods, and you set him on his feet. “Sorry, Papa,” he mutters to Toji as he uses his sleeve to wipe his eyes. 

Toji smiles softly at him and ruffles his spiky hair. “It’s okay.” 

Once Megumi is inside, you and Toji stand next to each other on the porch. You think about what life’s been like the last few days. The anger, the arguing. The hurt. Perhaps this was the hardest part—accepting that you can’t keep pretending that everything is alright, no matter how much you love Toji. 

A warm, comforting hand intertwined with yours, and it shakes you from your thoughts. “We have to talk about this,” Toji starts. “I can’t let this happen.” 

You exhale. “Toji.” 

“I do not care what needs to be done. I’ll do it,” he says, his voice thick with determination.

You glare at him. “I meant it when I said that I’m tired.” 

“And I meant it when I said that I’m not letting you walk away,” he bites back, then takes a small, shaky breath. “Yes, I was crying yesterday,” he admits. “I was crying because you’re considering leaving me, and it terrifies me so much more than I thought it does. Treating you like you don’t matter to me by always hanging out with my friends, along with forgetting our anniversary is such a shitty thing to do, and I know that there’s nothing I can do or say to undo that.” He then squeezes your hand gently, desperately. “But I’m going to try to make it right by keeping my promise to you and being a better man for you.” 

You want to say something, but your eyes pool with tears, so you face the ground instead. It’s so frustrating. You want this to work. You love him, and walking away from him will destroy you, but you also didn’t know if it could work. What if he chooses his friends again? What if he continues forgetting you? What if none of this is worth it and—

“Look at me.” His voice is soft, yet firm.

You shake your head. 

“Baby, please, look at me.” 

You muster the strength to meet his eyes, and his thumbs tenderly swipe underneath yours to wipe away the tears. “I’m sorry,” he whispers, slightly leaning forward so your foreheads are touching. “I’m so sorry. I swear to you, I’ll never do this shit to you again.”

You’re quiet for a while, then you tell him, “If it does happen again, then I’m done.” 

“Deal.” 

He pulls you to him, and you feel his body relaxing into yours. When you hear him sniffle, you begin to pull back, but he only holds you tighter. He’s crying again, and he doesn’t want you to see. “No,” he tells you in a quivering whisper. “Just let me hold you for a minute.” 

“Toji-” 

“I wouldn’t know what to do with myself if you disappeared. Not to mention figure out a way to break it down to Megumi and Tsumiki.” At the mention of his kids, he sniffles again. “Especially Megumi. Fuck, if you left, I don’t think he’d ever forgive me, or smile again. You make him so happy and comfortable.” 

You let him take his time, and relax your head on his shoulder. Once he’s calm again, he pulls away to look at you. “Give me a day to find a new restaurant for our anniversary, and find a babysitter for the kids. Then, I have a surprise for you.”

“A surprise?” 

“Yes. I’m going all out to make this up to you. You’re crazy if you think all you’re getting is a dinner after I fucked up this badly.”

---

NANAMI

Though you were super upset with him, you still dreamed of Kento. You dreamed of hefty, detailed conversations that weren’t rushed, long walks along the sandy beaches of Malaysia, private moments that had no chance of being interrupted, and plenty of time to do nothing at all. 

When you awoke from your dreams and remembered that he made the decision to spend his only free moment with Shoko and not you on your anniversary, your heart ached brutally within your chest. Is this how it was going to be forever? Are you going to spend your entire relationship wishing to be with him rather than actually spending time with him? 

You know that you have to talk to him; you’re just unsure of what you’re going to say. A part of you has accepted that Kento Nanami is simply too busy for a relationship with you, and that he’d rather spend his limited free time relaxing. 

You sit in your car, which is parked outside of the house that you and Kento share. Maybe it was best for you two to split ways. You could break the news, then move out within a month. You have plenty of money in your savings, and resources to help you find a new place fast. 

Okay, you think to yourself. Time to go. You exit your car, then walk in towards the front door, your hands shaking while reaching for your keys. When you finally unlock the door and step inside, you stop in your tracks. The living room of your house is beautifully decorated with red and gold balloons and streamers, and there’s rose petals sprinkled on the floor. On the table, there’s a massive, luxurious bouquet of roses in a glass vase, and a box of chocolate covered fruit next to it. There’s also various gift bags neatly arranged on the couch and the floor. 

You expected this. 

“Love, is that you?” You hear Kento’s voice come from the kitchen, and then he appears in the doorway, his shoulders slumping when he sees you. He’s holding another gift bag, and it looks like he was getting ready to place it with the rest. 

“Kento, I-” 

“No, sweetheart, please.” He sighs, then walks over to you. “Please allow me to explain myself.” 

“There’s nothing that needs to be explained. You missed our anniversary.” 

He grabs your hand when you start walking in the other direction. “And I’m so sorry for it. I’m extremely disappointed in myself for missing the dinner you had planned. I promise-” 

“Yeah, that’s the thing, Kento. You keep promising, but you never deliver on those promises!” You snap, whirling around to face him. “You promise me that you’re going to work less so we can spend time together, but you never do. You promise me that things are going to change, but they never do. You promised me one night, which was all I wanted, and you missed it. I took care of everything else so all you had to do was just show up, but even that was too much for you!” 

Kento goes quiet, his honey brown eyes full of desperation as he squeezes your hand gently. “I know,” he says softly. “You’re right. I’ve made promises, and I never delivered. It’s incredibly selfish to ask for more when you’ve already given so much without me returning any of it. It got so bad to the point where you believe that asking for one night is asking for too much, even though you deserve far more than that. I understand all of it, love, and I know why you feel like a break-up is the only option, but… I can’t let you go. I’d be so lost without you. Keeping you requires change, and I’m going to change things, starting now, if you grant me another chance.”

When you don’t answer, he continues, “You’ve been gone for so long. I spent hours sitting here, right on this couch, waiting for you to walk through the door. I was beginning to think that you wouldn’t. I felt sick, and I couldn’t sleep. I don’t want to get used to you not being here anymore. I don’t want to live a life where you’re not here by my side. I love you. I’m so sorry for taking you for granted. I have a lot to prove to you, and if you give me another chance, I’ll do it, no matter how long it might take. I won your heart once, and I’ll win it again.” 

You’re still quiet, but Kento doesn’t press you. Instead, he brings your hand to his mouth and places a light kiss on it. “I have two months off,” he says softly. “Come to Malaysia with me.” 

That surprises you. You blink in shock, then meet his eyes. “What??? Is two months even possible? But Kento, what about your job? Isn’t there something big happening in Shibuya?” 

“I told Yaga that I needed time off, so I got unassigned from that. Since I have had plenty of PTO earned over the years, it’s no problem,” he says simply, then gestures to the room full of presents. “Gifts mean nothing when what you crave the most is time with me. So, I want to give you that, like I should’ve done so long ago. Come to Malaysia with me, and I’ll earn you back there. Just me and you. No sorcerer stuff, no students, no interruptions.” 

“But-” 

“Sweetheart.” His voice is slightly shaky. “I always keep saying how I’d be spending more time with you after just one more mission.” His eyes drift downward. “But as a sorcerer, there’s no guarantee that I’ll come home every single time. There might be a mission where I don’t make it back, and I’ll regret all of the time I didn’t get to spend with you.” 

Your heart suddenly feels heavy. You hate talking about this stuff with him. You can’t imagine getting a phone call and hearing that he died on a mission. However, he’s right. There isn’t a guarantee, and you would be stupid to think that there is. 

He strokes your cheek tenderly, and it pulls you back to reality. “Come with me,” he says. “Let it be the start of me not only making this up to you, but also changing like I talked about earlier.” 

Time alone, completely uninterrupted. It’s all you ever wanted. You know that it would take time to return to good terms, but like he said, it’s a start. 

“Okay,” you say, and he sighs in relief before pulling you into his arms. “Thank you,” he whispers. “I promise, I won’t mess this up.”

---

GETO

Shoko lightly taps your shoulder, and it snaps you from your daydream. You look up at her, and she takes the cold cup of coffee from your arms. “You’re spaced out,” she says. “It’s obvious that you’re not going to drink this.” 

“Sorry,” you mumble. 

“Don’t apologize. These last few days have been hard for you.” Shoko disposes of the coffee, then begins washing the mug. “Have you talked to him since?” 

“No.” 

“Well, what are you thinking?” 

For the millionth time, you reread the last few messages between you and Suguru. He was right about you not trusting him, and it seemed like he took accountability for his actions. However, you’re still hurt. You think you’re going to be hurt about this for a very, very long time. Just thinking about how you spent a while at the restaurant anxiously checking the time, waiting for him to show up, has you falling silent again. 

“Hey,” Shoko sighs as she rubs your back. “It’s alright if you don’t know right now. You might have an answer when you see him-” 

A sudden knock at the door has both of you straightening up. Your eyebrows furrow, and you point towards the door. “Did you text him?” 

“No. I was just about to ask you that,” she says. 

You two approach the door, and you hear voices coming from the other side of it. 

“Satoru, this is a bad idea. She said that she-” 

“Lalalalala! I’m not listening!” 

“Satoru.” 

“Look, I don’t care! You should’ve done this days ago after forgetting the damn anniversary, dumbass. Me, Nanako, and Mimiko are tired of listening to you cryin’ in the shower.” 

Shoko facepalms. “Idiots. Both of them.” She opens the door, and Satoru grins, his blue eyes glimmering from behind his glasses. “Well, look who it is!” 

Suguru, your boyfriend, is nervously scratching the back of his head. You can tell he wants to say something, but doesn’t know what. Shoko looks over at you, and you nod that it’s okay. She nods in return, then pokes Satoru’s chest. “C’mon, let’s walk up the street to the bakery and give them a minute.” 

“Yes!” Satoru cheers, then waves at you before shoving Suguru inside and closing the door to Shoko’s apartment behind him. 

Suguru groans in annoyance. “I’m sorry. I know you needed time, but that asshole teleported us here before I could even-” 

“It’s okay,” you tell him as you sit on the couch. Half a minute later, he hesitantly sits next to you, relaxing into the cushion when he sees that you don’t move away from him. 

“Angel,” he starts, and like always, your heart jumps at the nickname. “I’m so sorry that I did this to you.” 

You wave him off. “Suguru, you’ve apologized enough.”

“No, you’re saying that because you’re drained. There’s no way I can apologize enough for missing our anniversary. I don’t blame you for being upset or for contemplating a break-up. Anyone would. That’s why I told you that I’m willing to earn your trust back. It’s going to take a lot, and I’m okay with that, if you’re willing to give me another chance.” 

“But what if this is nothing but a waste of time?” You ask. 

He sits up, determined. “It won’t be. I won’t let this happen again.” When you don’t reply, he places his hand on top of yours. “I missed you. Every day, Nanako and Mimiko asked about you. Our little home isn’t the same without you there. I’m so sorry that I missed your dinner. If you give me another chance, I’ll do better.”

Without even knowing, you lace your fingers with his. Though you’re mad at him, you’ve also missed him. But, you miss the Suguru who spent so much time with you towards the beginning of your relationship. You wondered if you’d ever see him again. 

“Hey.” You look towards Suguru, and he brushes his thumb over yours. “You know that I won’t force or pressure you,” he says calmly, even though his voice shakes. “I messed up badly and hurt you. If you truly want to end this, I understand, but-” 

“Suguru,” you cut him off loudly. “I just want my boyfriend to choose me as often as he chooses his friends. It feels like you only consider me when they’re not available, and it got so bad that you forgot our anniversary.” 

“And I’ll do that, and so much more,” he says firmly. “I know that I promised you before to spend more time with you. There’s so much that I need to make up to you.” 

More promises. Though you’re hopeful, you’re also nervous. 

“If I mess up this badly again, I’ll let you go. I won’t argue, I won’t fight it,” he proposes. 

“Alright,” you mumble. “One chance.” 

“All I need. Thank you.” Suguru carefully grabs your wrist, then tugs you into his arms. You breathe in his scent, and your body settles comfortably into his. 

“Don’t make me regret this, Suguru Geto.” 

“I won’t. Now come on, I have some promises to keep.”

You text Shoko that you’re locking up her apartment when you and Suguru leave, then you let Suguru take you outside.

---

SUKUNA

It’s well after midnight when you return to Sukuna’s estate. You walk the familiar hallways until you find your way to the garden. You sit on the dewy grass, and exhale slowly, enjoying the night air. 

You don’t go looking for him. You know that he’ll sense you here and come find you. 

The tiny bursts of light get your attention. Fireflies. He was right, they are out. You were surprised when Ryomen Sukuna told you that he remembered your love for them. After he forgot your anniversary, you were convinced that he just simply didn’t care about you, especially when he said that he only remembered things that were important to him. 

Suddenly, the air around you thickens as you sense his presence. He’s here. 

“You’re back,” Sukuna says from behind you. He sounds a bit uncertain. 

“No point in staying out forever,” you reply flatly. 

He doesn’t respond. He joins you on the ground, and you feel him watching you closely. You stare at the ground, your fingers lightly stroking the blades of grass. 

“But if I did decide to stay away,” you start, still facing the grass, “would you have let me go?” 

“Not if there was a possibility of earning another chance.” 

You finally look up at him, and before you can say another word, he gently puts a finger to your lips. “You are here, so I’d rather not waste time talking about hypothetical situations where you are not here.”

You shrug, then look away again. Truthfully, you didn’t know what to expect when coming back here. The King of Curses was anything but an easy partner to have a relationship with. You didn’t know why you, a mere sorcerer, loved him, but you did; so much and so deeply that it hurt to breathe sometimes. You know that he sees nearly everyone beneath him, but you thought that he at least respected you enough to show up for the dinner you planned. Maybe you’re foolish for returning.

“I hated every second that you were gone,” he says. Usually, Sukuna doesn’t admit to anything like that. It feels nice hearing it. “This place is so quiet without you.” 

A breeze blows in the garden, and it’s chilly enough to make you shiver and wrap your arms around yourself. Sukuna uses an arm to pull you closer, and you settle into his warm body with a small, relieved sigh. Your back falls against his chest, and you feel his chin rest atop your head. 

“There is something I haven’t told you,” he mutters.

“What is it?” 

“A year ago, right here in this spot, I realized that it was love.” Your eyes slightly widen, but you don’t stop him. “You were watching the fireflies and explaining some memories you had about them from your childhood. So simple and so harmless, yet it felt like my entire soul had shifted when I finally figured it out. Then it hit me again when I watched you play with Yuuji in the rain, then once more when I held your hand while you slept. It also hit me when you left, and I spent the last few nights feeling your soul tremble as you cried, knowing that I caused it.” 

Sukuna gives your shoulder a little squeeze, then fully wraps his arms around you. “Perhaps if I had told you these discoveries of mine the moment I had them,” he explains, “then you would have never questioned your importance. You have no idea how much you mean because I have not told you. That, in addition to this situation, is my fault.”

Something within you cracks, and a new wave of tears rush to your eyes. You blink them away, deciding that you’ve cried enough in the last few days. 

“Forgive me, petal,” he whispers. “I know you believe that I missed the dinner you planned on purpose so I could hurt you, but that is not true. It will never happen again. You have my word.”

When you tilt your head up to look up at him, you’re met with his gorgeous, crimson eyes. Your king was evil, no doubt, but you always believed that he was the most beautiful being you’ve ever laid your eyes on. You nod once, and he presses a kiss to your forehead. 

“Come with me,” he tells you. 

“Where are we going?” 

He stands up, then lifts you into his arms. “You need to rest, and I would like for you to do so with me so I can have you close. Then tomorrow, I will begin to make this up to you, like I promised.” As he carries you inside, you rest your head against his shoulder. “Happy anniversary, petal.” 

Finally, you smile. “Happy anniversary, Ryomen.”

[the-tarot-witch22]

Love letter from your future spouse 💌 - Pick a pile

Note : *Some intense se*ual messages for you guys too, soo minors DNI*

Pile 1/Pile 2

Pile 3/ Pile 4

Hello everyone ! This is my another pick a pile or pac reading so please be kind and leave comment or reblog, and let me know if it resonated with you!

Note : This is a general reading or collective reading. It may or may not resonate with you. Please take what resonates and leave what doesn't. And it's totally okay if our energies aren't aligned!

How to pick : Take a deep breath and choose a pile which you feel most connected to!

Note : This reading is based on my intuition and channeled messages from tarot cards.

I worked really hard on this pile please show some love by leaving comments, likes and reblogs!

*Buy me a kofi*

Pile 1

(The cards I got ace of pentacles, ace of cups, 2 of cups, page of cups, and the fool)

Hello my dearest,

What can I say? I didn't even meet you and yet I still miss you. Am I going mad, my love? I am working towards my goal and I have almost everything i need at the moment but why do I still feel that longing and sadness, am I insane for this? my life has been okay, I work or study and do what needs to be done, but is it weird to say i am searching for you? I hope you feel the same way… sometimes i dream of you or have that romantic dreams where you are there and when i wake up… nothing? It's making me lose my mind, i can't really talk about it with everyone, they will or might think i am just desperate for some shit, but i am not i want something serious, i want you. I have fun too i sometimes go out with my friends we laugh together, but still when I look at them or when they talk about their lovers or text them in front of me, i just miss you.. Am i being too much? probably but i wanted to tell of this to you, I feel like i need some rest or space from everything or just go somewhere where i can be alone with my and your thoughts, but the responsibilities are holding me back , I wish you were here to hold me and tell me everything will be okay. Sometimes I feel like we make some telepathic or some sort of connection and i feel that intense vibrations in my body, I haven't even met you and here I am being vulnerable, But i know you will love this side of me, will you not? I also want to tell you you're doing great and you will achieve everything you have dreamt of please take proper care of yourself, I wanna meet you soon, and have the love , fun i never experienced or had, You know love, what's funny thing is? I never had something serious or people had just taken advantage of me, but you without even meeting you, i can tell you are what i need. Please be patient for me, universe is in work and they will help us meet at divine timing and I can't wait for it. Until then, my love.

Phew so intense they had a lot to say to you, and they seem so sweet, don't they? i wish you meet them soon.

Pile 2:

(the cards I got 3 of cups, the star, 5 of cups and king of cups)

hey ;)

Hello my star, what are you up to nowadays? Are you having fun without me? wait don't answer me that i might get jealous over it, what's wrong with me I am not scaring you away am I? I tend to speak my mind, and show what I feel, because that's how I am. But sincerely tho, i hope you are having fun and celebration and you are enjoying your life, you know this is what we should do? Like just enjoy our times, I know how hectic life can get and we all deserve the break, so do it for you don't let anyone tell you that you are not doing enough because my star , you are and i already swooning over here from the thoughts of you, would you like to hear about my life too? I will tell you what I am doing nowadays, I had lost something precious to me, I know not a way great way to start a conversation right? But i wanna tell you, I lost something, i hate that I did, but to be honest? If it leads me to you , then i am willing to sacrifice anything for it, i wish we could meet sooner, but i know this distance this gap between us only increase our love towards each other, because distance makes heart grows fonder right? Now I wont deny when I lost that thing I was sad and even cried, But now I am healing and your thoughts are helping me? Do you miss me too at the same time? and wonder what we could have been doing if we were together? Because I do. Always. It's not even funny at this point. Gosh your thoughts make me feel all romantic thoughts, you are such a tease by the way hiding away and making desperate for you, don't you worry my star , I will take my revenge when I meet you, sweet revenge, I will tease you so much that you will regret meeting me late, Don't worry I am just kidding, i tend to get intense sometimes, but your thoughts are responsible they make me like this. But right now I am working towards something I am saving money for us our future and maybe kids too? Well, its a conversation for later… But if you don't want kids we can always have pets, right? I want to give you the world, and care for you so much for you. Now, I have to go… Duty calls, but remember I miss you, and I love you even if we haven't met yet.

Pile 2 your fs sounds like a total flirt and a good person, and I love it for you! You guys deserve it <3

Pile 3:

the cards I got (knight of wands, 9 of wands, 3 of wands, 8 of wands)

Hello sexy wanderer,

Do you know what kind of thoughts, I have for you? You my sexy wildcat, you are a pure goddess and you are so beautiful, and what can I say i have such dreams for you, I just wanna tear off your clothes, i will just leave it at that, You feel like a dream come true. Wherever I go I imagine having intense intimate moments with you, and I don't even know why, such a hold you have on me, and guess what we haven't even met yet. I have to say so much to you but i will hold out for now, I don't wanna scare you away, but its totally opposite I don't wanna scare you away but i also want to impress you, I wanna have enjoy small moments with you. I would like to make out and show everyone who you actually love. Not them who stares at your beauty or just wanna have fun with you but me, you chose me, i will show that I am a proud men, and worthy of you, right now I am travelling to far away lands I like doing that you know, but i am gonna coming to meet you soon. And you believe me when i say i will sweep you off your feet and give everything you are worthy of. See you soon.

Wow, they seem too passionate, and you know what? Good for you guys! Their message was short but their energy? give me a fan right now because I need it! They are definitely fire sign and love travelling, and their sexual drive? HIGH. They gave me so much hot kind of energy, I love it for you guys, i totally see you both meeting soon!

Pile 4 :

(the cards I got 4 of pentacles, the magician, ace of wands, strength, The Hermit, 6 of cups, 3 of pentacles)

Sweetheart? Once, we meet I am not letting you go ever, But i will make sure you know that I deserve you, I might make mistakes here and there, but that's just me being foolish or silly, but I never intend to fight with you or hurt you, You know I am a bit overprotective, but if you don't like that I am willing to change my ways for you, Right now there is so much work pressure on me, i feel overwhelmed so I decided to talk with you, even though we are not in each other's lives right now, I feel I can talk to you about anything you make me feel safe like i can be myself, i never had that, it was always me making efforts, but with you i can feel we are each other's light, and I wish we cross each other's path soon, right now i am enjoying my alone time, I am not dating around, I am waiting for you sweetheart, and I have a feeling we will know we are the ones for each other. I feel we have known each other in past lives or we might have each cross each other's path, but that time timing might not be right, And we both needed to learn some lessons before we meet again, and honestly? I'd like that. I wanna be the best men for you. I love you, and for you I am willing to fight anything or anyone, Some people think i am workaholic, but they don't know what I feel, or who i feel for the person i feel for is you, you make me wanna be a better man, i wish there wasn't this much wait for us to meet, I have so much to tell you, Sometimes I end up fighting with my close ones, I regret it, I am a very calm person but when someone provokes me? I can't take it. I am working on that too. And that's why we are having our self journey's together and let's meet at our best, sweetheart. Till then remember I am here waiting for you and trying to be a best person who deserves you. I love you my sweetheart.

Okayyyy, very masculine and hardworking energy, they or you might be spiritual too, you meeting will be for the best, for some of you i feel friends to lovers trope going to be here, your man sounds so sweet yet tired. But he is doing his best, you guys got a gem.

Thank you for stopping by! Take care and remember you are loved <3

[hhoneylemon]

𝘥𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘥𝘦𝘢𝘯 𝘸𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳

headcanons

Love Languages

acts of service

he’s the one post that’s like my love language is acts of service but all i know to do is kill

he will murder anything that hurts you. he is very protective but it’s cause he loves you, ‘kay?

does little things; picks you up your favorite snacks and drinks when he gets supplies, always makes sure there’s enough coffee for you.

he’ll bother making sure the impala always has a blanket or one of his jackets for you. he likes making sure you’re comfortable!

physical touch

please please please cradle his face it brings him so much comfort. he melts into it and gives you these big sad eyes and all you can do is kiss his forehead or just utter a ‘i love you’ or ‘you’re so pretty’

likes to just lay with you. he’ll take naps while you research, head plopped in your lap and body splayed across the bed. maybe instead he’ll rest his head on your shoulder and throw an arm around your torso. you get the point.

sometimes boots sam into the backseat so that he can have his passenger prince(ss). hand holding yours or holding your thigh, his mood automatically better than when you’re in the backseat.

words of affirmation

now, he himself does not convey his thoughts and feelings into words often. something something toxic masculinity.

he does, however, seriously appreciate when you tell him how you feel.

he’s a puddle in your hands as you remind him that you love him and that he’s so good to you and that he’s soo handsome. he’s looking at you with puppy eyes and his lips look so soft it’s not your fault if you give him a little kiss.

Dates

drives in the impala. he’ll drop sam off back at the motel or at a bar or restaurant and will just drive around with you. holding your hand, his music playing through the car. whenever you stop at a red light, he turns to you and gives you a soft look and sings a line of the song to you.

crappy diners. there are millions in the us, you make a list of your favorites just for fun. it’s just eating food and talking while doing so, it’s so simple yet so rejuvenating. he loves doing this with you, escaping his life for the hour you spend together.

watching tv or movies from the motel tv. cuddled in bed, he’s wearing his sleep shirt and a pair of boxers, arms around you and head on your shoulder. you could be watching anything from children's cartoons to horror films, he doesn’t mind as long as you’re in his arms.

coffee shops. on an off day, you two can actually sit in a coffee shop rather than grabbing a coffee and running off to investigate people. feet touching under the table, sipping coffees while people watching outside. he tells you that you two could’ve still been in bed, hearts replacing his pupils.

lying in bed talking. this technically doesn’t count as a ‘date’, but i’m putting it here; he’s wrapped you in his arms and is resting his head on your chest. speaking in whispers so that you don’t wake up sam, you’re pouring your hearts out to each other. you could also he arguing about whether or not a hot dog is a sandwich or not, the conversations are endless.

concerts. it was said the brothers would catch a few on their off days, so why can’t you two? he looks to see which artists you both like are touring and where, then just takes you out of the blue. never tells you so that he can see the surprise and then the excitement. he sings along loudly and terribly, but he holds you close and sways you and kisses your temple, so you don’t mind.

Kisses

he loves kissing you. he loves your skin against his lips. he loves you <3

unsurprisingly his favorite is kissing your lips. melting into you while sitting, making out with you in the car, small kisses to wake you up. he doesn’t appreciate pecks. if you give him one he’s chasing you and giving you a proper kiss.

his absolute favorite kinds of kisses are the ones where you’re both desperate for each other. teeth clinking, lips melding and breathing heavy as you break apart, noses bumping together if you lean in too quickly. it reminds him you want him just as badly as he wants you.

kisses your forehead after he comes back from a hunt, then hugs you. he just needs a moment to ground himself, and then he’s kissing the top of your head and sighing into your hair.

cheek kisses are greetings and goodbyes. you bring him coffee in the morning while he’s talking to sam, he gives you a cheek kiss and a small ‘hello’. he’s about to leave to pick up food for everyone, he kisses your cheek after getting your order. the only time they aren’t hello’s/goodbye’s are when he’s leaving and coming back from a hunt. then it’s a loving kiss to the lips, slow and meaningful.

something he likes, kisses to the knuckles. they have freckles on them, like his nose, so of course you have to show them love. you press a kiss to each, then in between. then, of course, are the knuckles on his fingers. then the back of his hand. makes him so giddy, he’s smiling and blushing and gazing at you like you’re the whole world.

he would also love the one trend. i’m sure he’d love you kissing his bicep while wearing lip gloss/lipstick of some sort. a. it makes him feel strong and b. it makes him feel loved <3

Random

if anything bad happens to you ever he’s so so sad and it’s automatically his fault and his duty to make it up to you. kisses your cheeks and holds you to his chest and cradles your head and he’s mumbling about how he’ll make it all better.

gets so flustered if you press the right buttons. if you can respond to his flirting with a witty response or a better line he’s blushing and looking at you with awe. he’s fallen for you at least three times already.

he’s a mean fighter. gets defensive, yells and gets angry. if he gets mad enough he’ll throw or punch something. after his initial burst he takes one look in your eyes and feels a wave of terror and he’s mumbling apologies and trying to breathe calmly. he’s got tears pooled in his eyes when you hug him and forgive him. he’s never wants to upset you.

he’s still a kid at heart. when sam’s out at the library or getting food or spending the night elsewhere, the two of you settle into the motel bed. cuddled together, dean’s head on your chest as he watches the tv. some cartoon is playing, maybe it’s scooby doo, maybe it’s gummi bears, maybe it’s ducktales. please humor him, it makes him feel so warm and cared for.

has made you multiple mixtapes. one is his favorite songs, one is songs that remind him of you, one is songs that are “written for us”, one is songs he knows you like. blue oyster cult, led zeppelin, van halen, aerosmith commonly adorn them. the thought is sweet and the fact that songs are rarely put on multiple tapes is lovely.

his favorite photo he’s taken on his phone is of you sitting on the impala’s hood. “it’s my two babies in one, c’mon”

please let him small spoon. it means everything to him to be able to trust you with being vulnerable like that. he likes hugging your arms while they’re wrapped around him, he sleeps harder than he ever has in his life. does like to spoon you though. sometimes he just needs to remember you’re real, or he feels like he needs to protect you. holds you close to his chest and curls around you to keep you safe.

following that, i feel like there are some nights he doesn’t want to cuddle. he just needs a moment to himself to recharge and feel better. he’ll lay on one side, arm hanging off the bed. he sleeps well with you just beside him, he can feel your heat trapped in the blankets. sometimes he’ll wake up from a nightmare and just roll over and hold you, sometimes you’ll wake him and he just rolls over to hold you.

honestly a bit of a bully. it’s all lovingly, but there are times he calls you stupid or another softer insult. he is kind of a jerk so he’ll say something to rub you the wrong way and when he notices you seem put off, he’ll think over what he said and frown and apologize. he doesn’t mean to come off that way, he’s so sorry :( please forgive him with all the little smooches he’s giving you.

[lavenderspence]

To Lean On You | Spencer Reid

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Content Warning: post prison!Spencer, mentions of addiction, prison talk (typical for the prison arc), gun use, mentions of death, suggestive themes, idiots in love, angst, so much angst.

Word Count: 8.6K

Summary: You and Spencer wasted years, truths hidden, feelings uncertain, and a fear of the unrequited. It took ten weeks, isolated, silent, and broken, for the realization to strike. There was no life, if you didn’t have each other. 

A/N: It’s finally here! Wow, writing this was a wild ride, honestly. Over a month of writing, blood, sweat, and tears poured over it (there were in fact some tears). This is also the first thing I’ve written in 3 years and I'm very happy to finally be out of my slump. It's probably the angstiest thing I've written ever, and at the same time, I feel like it's not the greatest, but deep down, I still love it, haha. Let me know if I've missed any warnings. And, enjoy and any feedback is appreciated. <3

Here are some of the songs I listened to while writing this if you want to get into the mood:

Hearts by Jessie Ware

The Smallest Man Who Ever Lived by Taylor Swift

Lost Without You by Freya Ridings

In This Shirt by The Irresponssibles

masterlist

79 days, 3 hours, and 27 minutes - that’s how long it’s been since he got arrested in Mexico.

70 days, 6 hours, and 13 minutes since you saw him being pulled out of the courtroom after he was deemed a flight risk and denied bail. 70 days, 6 hours, and 13 minutes have passed since you last saw him.

65 days, 7 hours, and 11 minutes, since he was transferred to Millburn Correctional Facility, and this whole nightmare, had started. 

Per Penelope’s carefully crafted schedule, every team member has made numerous trips to visit Spencer - every member except you. You’d only made one trip out, and that had been 3 days after he’d been transferred.

March 4th, 2017

It’s been 8 days since you saw him led in cuffs out of that courtroom, where Penelope had broken down in Luke’s arms, everyone too shocked to make a sound. He’d looked back, his eyes meeting yours briefly, and it had been as if you’d almost seen your reflection in the mirror, every emotion had run between you both in a matter of seconds. 

Shock, you’d almost been sure they would grant bail, and you’d be able to take him home. Almost. 

Fear, for his future and his well-being. Fear of the uncertain. 

Desperation, the desire to run to him and take him into your arms, finally, and to not let go. 

Except you’d held his gaze for as long as you could before you’d looked down and turned your head to save him from seeing you break down in tears. You’d made a hasty escape after that, not sparing any of your teammates a glance, and walked out of the courthouse, stopping by a tree outside. The urge to curl up into a ball and hide, pretending none of this had happened, was strong, and then a hand wrapped around your shoulder. You had turned around, only to see Rossi and one of his sad little smiles, the ones you rarely saw.

“It’s going to be okay,” he’d said, squeezing your shoulder. ”The kid is strong.”

You’d sniffled, trying to hide the tears in your voice. “Yeah, well, I’m not sure I am," you’d whispered in despair. 

You were better than you had been 8 days ago, calmer. Although still heartbroken, you were looking forward to seeing him, seeing with your eyes that he was okay. Garcia had seen him, 2 days ago, before you’d been sent out on a case.  

“He looks good. I mean, as good as that big genius brain of his can look in prison. His eyes were sad though, really, really sad.” She’d paused as if to assure herself it would be alright, “I’m sure he’s looking forward to seeing you, sweetness.” She’d squeezed your hand, but her statement hadn’t rung true. 

Your hands were shaking, you weren’t sure what from. The anticipation you’d felt? The nerves? Or the words you had a hard time coming to terms with.

“I’m sorry, but your name isn’t on Spencer Reid’s approved visitor list,” the guard at the checkpoint had said after rechecking the list. 

“There has to be a mistake, I made an appointment,” you insisted, feeling yourself unravel. It wasn’t possible, you knew for a fact you were on that list, Emily had made sure of that.

“Look, lady. There are only 10 names on that list, and yours is not one of them. Now, you need to move, because there are people here waiting to see their loved ones.” you’d hiccuped and turned around, walking to the lockers to unlock your gun, badge, and phone. 

“I’m here to see a loved one.” You’d wanted to scream, but you knew it would have been futile. There wasn’t anything you could do at that moment. 

You walked to your car, dialing Emily’s number, “This is Prentiss.”  

For a second, only your breathing could be heard over the sound of the wind, and then a tiny sniffle. You wiped at your eyes and nose, and then spoke up, barely, “Why am I not on Spencer’s approved visitor list?” 

“What do you mean? Every member of this team is on the list. So is his lawyer and Diana, even Derek,” you could hear the surprise in her voice, yet you couldn’t keep calm any longer.

"They refused to let me see him! I made the appointment, Emily, and I came, hoping I’d finally see him hear his voice, and ask him-” Your voice broke mid-sentence, and after taking a deep breath, you continued, “Ask him if he was okay, and I was denied because out of the 10 names on that list, it seems mine’s not one of them.” You finished defeated, barely above a whisper.

All was silent for the moment, save for what you could hear was Penelope’s voice on the other end of the line, quietly asking what was going on, “Let me call Fiona and the warden, and I’ll see what happened. Meanwhile, I need you back here, because we just got a case.” Her voice wasn’t leaving anything up for discussion. Still, you couldn’t go, not until you saw him. 

“Emily-” she cut you off.

“It’s not a discussion. I’ll resolve this, but I need you here and your head in the game. Am I clear?” Her voice was stern, but maybe that’s exactly what you needed. Maybe.

“Yeah, clear. I’m on my way back.” You took a deep breath and started the car and the journey back to Quantico, but your mind stayed right there, on the bars that kept you away from the one thing you held dearest. 

As it turns out, there was nothing the warden or Fiona could do. Even Emily Prentiss, Unit Chief of the BAU, couldn't “resolve” the situation. Days, weeks, and months passed, and for 70 days you couldn’t see him, isolated out, not even knowing why.

“-to be in the courthouse in one.” You snapped out of your thoughts, only catching the end of the sentence, digging the heels of your hands into your eyes. You were tired, and it had little to do with the fact that you had been up all night, going over all the evidence with the team and tracing Lindsey Vaughan’s steps to a T in an attempt to exonerate Spencer and finally bring him home. 

You were exhausted, both physically and mentally. You’d been up for more than 24 hours now, but then you hadn’t been sleeping all that well to begin with. Every single night was spent wondering how Spencer was doing, and every time you closed your eyes, you saw him in that cell in Mexico. 

His eyes were red, high out of his mind, barely coherent, dirty, and injured - a far cry from the person you were used to seeing every single day - energetic, passionate, and brilliant. After 12 years, if there was one image you wished to erase from your memory, it was this one. Not all the blood you’ve seen spilled, every victim, be it men, women, or even children, all the horrors of the job, but this. Maybe it made you a bad person, but there was nothing worse than seeing the one person you held dearest at their lowest and not being able to do anything to stop it.

Every waking hour that you weren’t on the job was spent wondering how he was doing and if he was okay. If he was healthy, unharmed, and safe, or as safe as an FBI agent could be in prison. But most of all, the one thing that had kept you up at night, slowly destroying your sanity and making you question everything, had been the one question you couldn’t seem to get an answer to. 

“Why doesn’t he want to see me?”

You’d asked everyone and had waited with battered breath for an answer, a clarification on the matter, and it never came. As shocked as you had been at the notion that you wouldn’t be seeing Spencer for an indefinite amount of time, your team had been even more shocked. They knew the kind of relationship you and Spencer had, how close you’d become over the years, and how much you relied on each other. 

You’d asked every team member, you’d asked yourself, you’d even asked Spencer in a few of the letters you wrote to him, and then there had come a point where you just stopped. 

You were torturing yourself more than enough, day after day, and every single night, asking yourself a question you wouldn’t get an answer to. Not as long as he was locked up in that hellhole and you were out here, trying to keep together the pieces of something, that was on the verge of breaking. 

You felt a hand taking hold of yours, and for a second, you tensed up. Pulled out of your thoughts, you looked up and were met with chocolate brown eyes, full of worry - Emily’s eyes. 

You glanced around the room, only to realize it was empty, save for the two of you. You hadn’t felt when the others had left, that’s how deep in thought you had been. 

“Where did you go? I’ve been calling your name for a while now,” she spoke gently, squeezing your hand. If you were honest, that’s the first time she asked you anything about the situation. You’d spent weeks suffering in silence and trying to pretend that you weren’t slowly dying on the inside. 

You briefly thought about lying, it wouldn’t be the first lie you’d told since Spencer had been incarcerated, but you didn’t have it in you to hide anymore. 

And so, for the first time since Spencer’s hearing, you told the truth.

“Nothing makes sense anymore, Em,” it left you in a whisper, “I’m barely holding it together. I feel like I’m drowning sometimes, and just when I breach the surface, I’m pulled back in. My mind, it’s...I question everything, all the time. My mornings start with thoughts about him, and my nights end with tears over him, over this entire…this nightmare. I keep waiting for my alarm to go off, to wake up and realize that this has been a plot of my imagination, some cruel joke my mind has conjured, designed to show me... "Your eyes welled with tears, prepared to admit something you should have long ago. Emily gave your hand another squeeze, prompting you to continue, and so you did, admitting it for the first time aloud. 

“Designed to show me that I can’t live a life that doesn’t have Spencer in it.” You wiped at your eyes, willing your tears at bay. When you dared to look up, you were met with the eyes of the only other person besides Spencer who has been a constant rock in your life for the last 11 years. What you saw in her eyes then wasn’t surprise like you’d thought, but relief. It took you a moment to fully read her, but it was like a switch had gone off when you finally did. 

“But you’re not surprised to hear this, are you?” you smiled sadly, a light laugh leaving you. 

“I wouldn’t be a good friend if I didn’t have my suspicions, and I’d be an even worse profiler,” she smiled at you, “Plus, there are some feelings that you just can’t hide,” you blinked, and then you blinked again. You hadn’t come right out and said it, and yet she knew, she somehow knew. 

“I didn’t mean it like that.” you tried to backtrack, but you knew it was a losing battle. Emily knew you well enough to smell your bullshit from miles.

“That’s exactly how you meant it, and don’t even try to deny it. I see it every damn day. It’s how you leave the room whenever you hear someone talk about visiting Spencer. You don’t want to hear how he’s doing because you wouldn’t believe it, not unless you see him with your own eyes. But you can’t, so you’ve resigned yourself to the torture of not knowing instead of giving yourself the smallest amount of peace by asking. You’ve been suffering in silence for almost three months, too stubborn to say anything, thinking you were doing yourself a favor. And what for? You’re crying yourself to sleep every night and coming to work the next morning, pretending everything is fine when clearly it’s not. You think you’re fooling everyone, but the only person you’re tricking is yourself. And how’s that working out for you?” she had a point, and it’s not like you weren’t aware of that fact. You knew what you were doing wasn’t okay or healthy. You had the most stable support system imaginable to get you through the hardest parts. It was hard, though, especially when the person who was suffering the most was the person who’d taken your heart with him. 

“Way to call me out, boss.” you were just about ready to end the conversation, you couldn’t take any more of this. You’d promised each other long ago that you wouldn’t profile each other but you had a feeling that was exactly what Emily was doing right now. Maybe not on purpose, and with every good intention imaginable, but you didn’t want that. You didn’t want one of your best friends to try to understand you based on behavioral analysis right after you’d spilled your soul out to her. 

“Just calling it the way I see it, someone has to,” she smiled, but then she shook her head a little before continuing. “What I want to know is why you didn’t say something earlier. You know I would have been there to listen, and so would have the team.” Damn, Emily Prentiss.

You didn’t have to think hard about it, you’ve been ruminating over everything for days. You were trying not to, but whenever your mind wasn’t focused on a case or the many drinking nights spent in Penelope’s purple adobe, that was where your mind would take you.

“Out of fear, I think,” you started, unsure for a second, still nervous to admit it. It wasn’t exactly what she was asking, but it was a start, “I was afraid, and I still am. I’ve been baiting myself into thinking it was just some sort of fondness, a little stronger than that which you feel towards a friend, and far lesser than what it actually is. I thought that if I didn’t say anything, I could go on lying to myself, and nothing would have to change, we wouldn’t have to change. Because words hold meaning, and an admission like that holds weight. What would I have done if it was just me who felt like this? I would have ruined the one thing we’ve both cherished for over a decade.” It felt good to finally say all of this out loud instead of holding it inward. But then again, Emily always knew when you'd had enough. 

She’d told you time and time again the same thing Hotch had asked of her when she returned to duty after faking her death: “Let me know when you are having a bad day.”. Honestly, you’d held off long enough, and so had she. It was a whole miracle she hadn’t pressed you about your behavior earlier. 

“That’s not what I was asking,” you said, shaking your head with a smile to let her know that you weren’t done speaking. 

“Everyone was suffering as a result of what happened in Mexico, what I was feeling wasn’t any different, Emily.” You were flippant about it, you always have been. You preferred isolating yourself and hiding everything instead of seeking a shoulder to bear the weight of what you felt. 

“Our sadness came from the fact that our friend was framed. And yours? That’s different.” 

“It isn’t,” she scoffed, getting up. Now you really felt like you were about to get scolded like a child.

“Yes, it is. God, you and Spencer are the same. It’s like I’m looking at his doppelganger without the whole… IQ of 187. You share some of the worst qualities a person can have,” you laughed at that, “You are both changeophobes-” you cut her off

“Metathesiophobia, fear of change.” She only raised her hand at you, as if to say, “See, you even sound like him,” which made you laugh even more. 

“You close yourselves off after a sad or traumatic experience, silently hoping you’d be able to get through the worst of it on your own. Most of the time, it’s evident that’s not the case. You only ask for help when you’ve reached rock bottom or have no other choice, but you’ve had a choice from the get-go. Your stubbornness even stems from the same anxieties, it’s infuriating,” she seemed to calm down then, in defeat maybe, or she hadn’t been mad, to begin with, she sat down again. 

“My point is, it shouldn’t have taken you learning that he might be coming home today to tell me all of this. I’ve known for a long time that there was something far more than platonic friendship on your end. You shouldn’t have tortured yourself since his trial to try to put the puzzle pieces together. You aren’t late, you have all the time in the world to say what you feel and what you want, and rejection shouldn’t be a factor, believe me. You need to make peace with that fear because Spencer is coming home today. And whether you are ready or not, you both need to have a serious conversation.” You appreciated her determination about Spencer being released, but then again, you had more than circumstantial evidence to support the fact that he was innocent. But, as always, Emily was right. He was coming home today, and after months of not seeing each other, there were a lot of things you needed to say. 

“I know. Thank you, Emily, for everything,” you whispered, squeezing her tight. 

Spencer’s POV

The first breath of fresh air after being on the inside for months felt far more overwhelming than he thought it would be. Being in charge of your being and your responses and emotions felt almost unnatural like the feeling of it didn’t belong to him. The sound of the wind and the traffic, people’s voices, and even the simple act of getting comfortable in the leather seats of the jet overwhelmed any ability to concentrate and think straight. 

In itself, it was strange. The prison was loud, the prison commissary at breakfast, lunch, and dinner was a cacophony of prisoners talking, cells being opened, and guards barking orders. The yard was loud too, although, in the middle of nowhere, nature could still be heard - the sounds of trees and the lone birds, if he had to guess a mix of Mourning Dove and Field Sparrow. Their songs were soothing most of the time, a welcome distraction from the usual noises around him. 

Without the atmosphere he’d gotten used to and subjected to all of those sounds and people whose presence he found comforting before, he now felt almost out of place. He wanted to feel at peace, he wanted to feel free, and although he technically was, his mind was more trapped than he’d actually been in that 2 by 2 cell in cellblock C.

He kept replaying some of the hardest moments from his time in, every threat, every punch he’d gotten, and the phantom feel of the fists connecting. Luis’ blood on his hands, the smell of bleach incorporated with the drugs, the tip of the sharpened toothbrush embedding into his thigh. All he’d done to survive, harm, and more harm, only to make it out alive. 

He barely recognized himself. He’d deliberately ignored looking at himself in the small plastic mirror in his cell, for fear of seeing what he’d had to become. Gone was the Spencer who’d use his brain to get out of situations, whose obliviousness more often than not helped to balance his intellect with the socially acceptable. Gone was the bubbly personality of a kid excited to share a plethora of facts with his friends. 

In his place sat a man, tormented by the reality of the hatred felt towards him. The reality of being a pawn in a game whose complexity could have been his downfall. A man whose genius, as much of a blessing, could sometimes be a curse. A man who had felt too much and was made to experience far more loss than his quaint heart was able to take. In the end, he kept losing, be it his father, by no choice of his own. His mentor, at the hands of a killer’s insanity. His friends and loved ones, hoping for a better life or his freedom, made to rot in a place he didn’t deserve to be in. 

Some would doubt that he had anything at all left to lose. All in all, how much more could the scrawny twelve-year-old child prodigy, left to survive in a public high school, take? 

His mind had been plagued by that question for years. He’d thought about that more than he’d like to admit. After every loss, there’d been a split moment where he’d asked himself what was next. What would be the next thing life would take from him? And every time, he’d had to wonder if, next time, life wouldn’t reach for the one thing he couldn’t allow to be taken from him. The one thing that, were he to lose, he’d never recover. He had hoped, sometimes prayed, that after everything he’d seen, everything he’d lived through, this would be the one thing that’d be spared. 

Locked in that cage, he’d tried even harder to ensure that there wouldn’t be another loss in his life - not anymore. Be it good or bad, he’d done everything. For 70 days, he’d had to assure himself he was doing what he thought was right, and what he wasn’t saying, he’d be forgiven for. He’d had to dodge questions and see the disappointment in his friend’s eyes, and when that wasn’t enough of a burden to bring all of his anxieties to the surface, he’d resigned himself to reading the words of the person he was doing all of this for - you. 

He’d reread every letter to the point where the edges of the papers were worn out, even though he’d known the contents by heart on the first read. He tortured himself by looking at your handwriting, analyzing the slanting of the words and the pressure of the pen. The little stains on the paper, he didn’t have to be a genius to know, were your tears. It broke his heart, to know he was causing you this much pain. He didn’t need to be there to see it, he felt it through your words.

He often questioned if it was worth it, if he was protecting you, or himself, or maybe even what you were or weren’t.

Even now, the weight of your words sat heavily on his mind, and right by his heart, in the pocket of his jacket, he felt the weight of the 9 letters you wrote. 

As he looked over from the little window of the jet, he couldn’t help but wonder if, in his desire to shield you from everything, he hadn’t gone too far. Ultimately, was he going to be forgiven, or be forced to pick up the pieces of the reality broken by his own doing?

“Don’t do that.” JJ’s gentle voice startled him from the overwhelming nature of his thoughts. She’d spent the last 30 minutes since they boarded silently observing him, waiting for him to pick up a conversation. But he’d decided to stay num. 

In every twitch of his fingers, in his desire to get comfortable but being unable to, she could see that he was restless. If she had to guess, his mind was much the same. 

“Do what?”

She gave him a look, one, had he not known her long enough, he might have been offended by. Clearly, she was offended herself, watching him play the clueless card. 

“Spence, I don’t need to profile you to know that your mind’s running a thousand miles a minute, contemplating your decisions, and I don’t think you should. You did what you thought was right, and no one blames you for that, not for Mexico, and not for what you did after,” she spoke evenly, gathering even Penelope and Alvez’s attention from where they sat. He looked over, receiving a smile and a nod from both before focusing on JJ again. 

Rationally, he knew she was right about everything. He didn’t need to run himself ragged with everything he could have done differently, or search for the perfect way to explain, or overall, the perfect outcome of his own decisions. He knew there wasn’t one, there was no perfect way to say what he needed to, no perfect words to pick so he could fix this and erase the pain he knew he’d caused. 

Perfection wasn’t something you could strive to achieve, because there’s no such thing as perfection. The term was diverse, everyone had a different perspective on what that might look like. If for JJ, perfection was the family that waited for her at home every time she returned from a case, for Spencer, perfection was vastly different. 

For him, perfection was the rich aroma of coffee that could cause someone’s insulin to spike because of the amount of sugar in it. The softness of a book page between his fingers, or the familiarity of a book he’d read before but needed to revisit. 

Perfection was the sound of your laugh whenever he was the one to prompt the sound. The way your eyes lit up every time you listened to him babble on. Perfection was the time he got to spend with you every day, every hour, and every minute that he could remember with almost scary accuracy. 

He could sit and wonder what the perfect way to go about this was, but there simply wasn’t one, there was only the truth. And as painful, hopeful, or even a little dumb as it was, that was the best he could give.

And maybe that’s what his mind should focus on instead, the truth, in its simplest form, at its core the truth he’d hidden for months, and then the truth he’d hidden for years. 

He had wondered long enough if he’d made the right choice. He spent plenty of time focusing on the shame he’d felt, prompted by the disappointment he’d seen in his friends’ eyes whenever they brought up your name. How he’d sit, silent, or give an answer so short and angry, it’d add even more shame to the one he already felt. 

Beyond his time in prison, where he spent most of his time questioning his decisions, he spent years before that questioning himself as a person. His place on the team, his intelligence, even his failings. His inability to form relationships where he’d be seen as more than Dr. Reid, or the skinny kid, pretty boy, or a genius. A relationship that’d make him feel like simply Spencer, without the added adjectives, that sometimes made him feel like a circus clown. 

Only when he’d been locked up, had he started to realize that he’d finally built a relationship with someone with whom he could be himself. The most basic, boring, and peaceful version of himself, and slowly, all had started falling into place. 

How content he felt whenever he was around you, the desire to tell you every good or bad news he received. How when you asked about his mother, it warmed his heart, or how worried he felt when you acted stupid in the field. How out of control he’d felt when you’d gone missing last year. Or even, at the time, the unexplained jealousy he’d felt seeing you talk with another man.

Morgan had asked, once, twice, a lot, if maybe he didn’t have a crush, but he’d denied it, every time. And every time he’d question himself, he'd dismiss the idea just as quickly. 

Yet, upon being forced away from you, the pieces had started mending into one. 

Every realization he’d had was like a new broken piece being glued to the overall mosaic. And every new piece added built everything he felt about you. And it was a lot, and it was overwhelming, and so, so right, it sometimes felt wrong. Because he was inside a prison of his own doing, and you were out there, made to wait for him, for an explanation, for the truth. 

And he’d vowed to himself that the moment he was out, he’d put everything on the table, no matter how much he’d fucked up or how much he’d hurt you. He’d sit there, and he’d let it out, and if necessary, he’d even beg for your forgiveness. 

Because there wasn’t a moment in this life, he wanted to live through, without you there with him.

Your POV

You pulled the trigger, your eyes focused, and your hands steady. Three consecutive shots were fired, each one hitting its intended target. Three more followed, and then as many as it took to empty the magazine. 

You put down the gun and took a deep breath, steadying your heartbeat, trying to rid yourself of the deep-seated anxiety you felt. An odd sense of calm overtook you whenever you found yourself at the shooting range. Maybe it was the everpresent scent of gunpowder or the quiet only disturbed by the firing of a gun. Or even the possibility of escaping your rising thoughts, the desire to run or scream, sometimes both. 

There was a sense of solitude there that almost made it easier to breathe. The repetitive motion and the weight of the gun in your hands felt like second nature. 

Front sight, trigger press, follow through, just like Hotch had taught you all those years ago. As long as you held that gun, your mind was quiet, and you focused on something other than the worry you felt. 

It made sense you found yourself there shortly after Emily had shared the long-awaited good news - Spencer was finally free, and JJ, Penelope, and Luke were on route back with him. For a short moment, you’d felt the weight being lifted from your chest, and then it dropped again, now tripled. 

Suddenly, your earlier conversation with Emily had gotten as real as the target before you. Even with the sense of peace, you’d felt after, your thoughts on the matter clear, you still felt a sense of dread at the idea of seeing him. 

As if he wasn’t your best friend, the man who’d long ago won your affection and captured your heart, but rather a stranger who held your future in his hands. And he might as well be, because whatever the truth to the questions you wanted answered was, one thing was for sure.

It’d either make or break you both.

You picked up a new magazine, and loaded the gun, aiming at the target before releasing the safety. Before you fired again, you released a breath, and with it, all the feelings within you - fear, uncertainty, yearning, and the sense of madness, which, although mild, was persistent.

You fired once, twice, your aim impeccable, and then, out of nowhere, you missed. 

The hair at the back of your neck rose, your heart rate quickened, and the feeling of another’s presence in the room was unmistakable. It took you just a second to put the pieces together, the intrusion felt like anything but that. 

Instead, for a brief moment, the person brought with them a familiar feeling of calm. In the next instance, though, reality came crashing like a tidal wave, and you knew you’d run out of time. 

Your hands shook as you put down the gun. You could feel him watching you, probably standing next to the door, as if he couldn’t will himself to move closer. The anxiety was palpable in the air, although you couldn’t really say if it was yours or his, most likely, it was a mix of both.

You went to reach for your protection but hesitated. Once you took it off, there’d no longer be an excuse for you to ignore him, you’d finally have to meet the reality he’d so carefully crafted for you.

Even though you felt like you could barely breathe, the desire to finally lay your eyes on him won out. 

Without missing another beat, you took off your earplugs and then your eye protection. You could faintly hear the sound of shoes squicking against the floor. He could never stay still when he was nervous.  

You picked up on the sound of your own breathing too, the beating of your heart was almost erratic. You were waiting, what for, you weren’t sure. 

He was waiting too, for you to turn around, to lay his eyes on you. Like a sadist, waiting to see the pain he’d caused, or a masochist, wishing for his own in turn. 

70 days of slowly killing you both.

When you finally dared to turn around, it took you a moment to fully take him in. He looked like the Spencer you knew, yet there was something different about him too. Dressed in his usual suit and tie outfit, he didn’t look comfortable. His posture was rigid, almost defensive. It wasn’t a conscious decision, that much you were sure of.

His hair was longer, pushed back, curling at the ends, and he’d lost some weight. Not much, but enough to make an impression after all this time. He looked pensive, like the weight of the world sat on his shoulders, but maybe it was just the weight of the consequences he had to face.

Your eyes ran over every inch of him multiple times, intentionally avoiding his gaze for as long as possible. Seconds and minutes passed, and you weren’t really sure how much exactly. 

Spencer knew, though, of course, he did. If his fear of meeting you eye to eye was as great as yours was, you knew he was counting until the torture of the act itself was over. 

89 seconds he’d counted, although now with you there, they felt longer than the days without you did. 

When you eventually met his gaze, you felt a part of your heart chip on the inside. What people said about the eyes being a portal to one's soul couldn’t have been more right in that moment. Spencer, a man who excelled at hiding his emotions when he really wanted to, had let them out as clear as day for you to see. 

His eyes sparkled with so much sadness and guilt that it threatened to take you apart even before he had the chance to talk. Something softened within you at that moment, but in the next instance, it was like someone else took over. 

One moment you wanted to cry for him or with him, and the next you felt like your whole being needed to be let out. 

“Is that…is that all you can offer me right now? More of your silence? Don’t you think I’ve had enough of that?” The questions, a few of many to follow, had a bite to them. 

His face fell a little, taken aback by your tone. He fidgeted with his fingers, unsure what to say, or where to start. How could he answer your question? He pictured a scenario where his words flew freely, where he gave you an explanation worthy of forgiveness and a confession, so earnest that it ended with you in his arms. 

Try as he might, the words didn’t come to him, just a barely audible accusation. 

“That’s not fair.”

You scoffed, as if in outrage. A madness, one born out of so much heartbreak, took over, it was blinding. If someone had asked you to explain yourself, you’d say that wasn’t you. You’d never be so forward, almost cruel, to him, but at that moment, being mad sounded so much better than being vulnerable. Like a shield, you weren’t ready to let go of yet.

“How exactly is this not fair, Spencer? It’s the truth!” you yelled, and you felt free, finally letting it all out. “You want to know what isn’t fair, though? The way you isolated me OUT of your life! For three months, I’ve had to stand on the sidelines and beg for scraps, just to know you were okay. Every pitiful look I’d get from the people I consider family felt like another stab to the heart. That’s what’s not fair!” You were screaming so loud. It was a good thing the range was soundproof, otherwise, the whole of the BAU would have been deep in your business by now. 

If he looked surprised by the accusation, he didn’t really show it. His posture took a turn, though. The rigidity disappeared, and in turn, it opened, as if the need to comfort you overpowered the uncertainty or the mask he’d had to hold while imprisoned. 

You didn’t want his comfort, not right now. Maybe later, when all was said and done, you’d get to have a normal conversation without the frustrations of the past. At that moment, you just wanted everything out of your system. You wanted the questions, the answers, and the truth. 

His silence continued as he started closing the distance between you. You wanted to move, to create more distance, but there was nowhere to go. You were squeezed between the range, and him. Whatever else was left than to continue begging for clarity.

“It’s not fair being sent away the first time I came to see you. To learn you didn’t want to see me! Each time it was my turn to visit you, do you want to know where I was? I sat outside that fucking prison, wishing for a glimpse of the person who’s been my rock for 12 years! Holding back tears, thinking you didn’t…you didn’t care like I did. Is this what I really deserve after 12 years by your side?” You almost slipped, you almost told him, and maybe you should have, it might have prompted him to talk or to say something. But no, he stayed silent. Step after step, he limped, his cheek twitched, and his brows furrowed, but like a coward, he remained quiet. 

He was meters away from you, three more steps, and he’d completely close the distance, and meet you face to face. 

“Say something, Spencer, damn it!” Your throat burned from the strain, and he advanced even more. “Anything,” you finished in a whisper, and all of a sudden, all the fight left you, and your eyes watered and your vision went blurry. 

He was just a step away then, and when you looked into his eyes, you couldn’t help but see how they shined. 

He reached forward, one hand taking hold of your arm while the other went to hold your waist, but you shook your head. “No, Spencer, please,” you whispered. You didn’t want to find yourself in his arms, because that would be the last of your composure, gone. You’d surrender to the feel of him like you even had a choice not to. 

He didn’t stop, not until you were snug into his arms, one of his hands at the back of your neck, holding your head tenderly, but the arm around your waist held onto you as if he was scared you’d slip away from him. 

Once in his arms, you finally let go, breaking down into pieces, hoping he’d be able to hold them all from crumbling to the ground. 

“Hey, shh, it’s okay. I’ve got you.” He kept repeating, his thumb rubbing soothing circles on your pulse point. All the while, you could only stand, your arms at your sides, as if paralyzed.

Being in his arms felt like being home somehow. It felt so right after having been deprived of the feeling for so long. It felt like there was nothing wrong, and nothing could go wrong at that moment. 

Even though you hadn't initially wanted his comfort, somewhere deep inside, you craved his tender touch. You craved the feel of his body near and the faint scent that was so uniquely him - a mix of coffee, fall, and old paper, books. You realized then that you craved the sound of his voice too, another part of him you’d been deprived of. 

The voice of the always rambling boy that never failed to bring a smile to your face, even when you couldn’t understand him sometimes. 

And the more he whispered, his voice broken and shaky, the harder you cried. You’d thought nothing could match the heartbreak of his actions or the anger of his silence, but the reality of being held against him brought the realization that your suffering mirrored his own. 

If you’d been dying on the inside for months, he’d been on the other side of the link holding you tethered to each other, dying just as much. 

And you couldn’t hold yourself back any longer after that. You buried your head in the crook of his neck, and your arms finally circled his waist underneath his suit jacket, fisting the back of his shirt as if it were your one lifeline. 

You felt him exhale when you finally returned his touch, most likely in relief, before he dropped a light kiss on your head. 

You cried for the relief of having him back and close. For unspoken truths and time wasted, years of figuring out feelings clear as day. For all the anger, for all of his silence, for all you felt for him. 

He cried for all the pain he’d caused you and for all the time he’d wasted being alone instead of being with you. He cried for himself, he cried for you, and he cried, overwhelmed by his feelings for you. 

You clung to one another, crying, and minutes were passing and neither of you cared. Not when you had each other. 

After a while, when both your tears dried out and your cries quieted, but you still felt the need to hold each other close, you dared to murmur a broken “Why?” hoping he’d hear, hoping he’d understand. 

It didn’t take him long to mumble a reply, no longer silent. 

“All the words in the world available, and I wish I could explain.” it came out just as quietly, both of you scared to break the little bubble you’d found yourselves in. 

You pulled back from him, wanting to look into his eyes, red-rimmed and still sparkling when you felt yourself begging again. 

“Then try, please, because I’d rather know, and not understand, than not know at all.” And it was the truth. He could speak in riddles if he wanted, but you needed to know why he’d made that choice. 

You looked at him expectantly before he pushed a piece of hair back, and his hand once again settled at the back of your head, gently cupping it. 

“I wanted you safe from a world you didn’t belong in,” he admitted on an exhale, like a lifelong secret he’d gotten tired of holding onto. 

You looked at him in wonder, and it was on the tip of your tongue to tell him he didn’t belong in that world either, but just as you opened your mouth to speak, he shook his head. 

“I was ashamed when I had you removed from the visitor’s list. I didn’t want you to see me like that, like a criminal,” he started, pulling you into his arms, not wanting to admit it to you eye to eye, out of fear of being right. Of course, he was wrong, but that didn’t stop him from wondering. 

“The first time JJ visited me, they leered at her like they were being fed fresh meat, taking her in, committing her to memory. A cage full of animals. I knew then that I didn’t want that for you, and any guilt I had at keeping you away disappeared that day. It hurt me, knowing I was failing you and whatever trust you had in me,” he whispered, wishing to keep the reality of his thoughts and his feelings in a little bubble as if you only existed in it.

“I’m not the same person I was before, I couldn’t be him, even if it meant losing a part of myself in the process. I couldn’t really be a decent human being without bearing the consequences. Everything I saw, everything I did, and everything that was done to me, I don’t think I’d ever fully be the person I was before. And that too, I’m thankful I spared you from seeing.” It would explain his rigidity, a defense mechanism he’d had to get used to. 

And while everything he’d said thus far was true the biggest truth, he’d had yet to say. He had yet to really explain why he’d done what he’d done in the first place. He was stalling, still afraid, but the longer he held you, the longer he felt your heart beating in time with his, the more sure he became. 

To hell with the consequences, to hell with whatever happened after, he was right here in the now, alive, breathing, his arms around you, finally at peace. 

He pulled back, took your face into his hands, and finally whispered.

“Most of all, though, I knew I loved you enough to risk us if it meant keeping you safe.” It left him in a rush, a confession waiting to be let out for months. A feeling he’d had for years, and a moment where he could finally be open about it. 

“What…?” you licked your lips, shocked that you might not have heard him correctly. ”What does us mean?” This part of the conversation felt like you were daydreaming about it, it just didn’t feel real. 

“It means whatever you want it to be. Whatever you want us to be.” All of a sudden, it was that simple. 

“So, you love me?” You had a hard time taking it all in, yet your heart fluttered in pure happiness. “And you…you want us?” 

"Yes.” Even before you were done speaking, he was already answering. He was desperate to finally admit he was absolutely smitten by you. 

Months of figuring out your feelings, years of hiding them, a conversation to finally prompt a confession out of you, and all this time it was reciprocated. You could have cried, happiness like no other coursing through you, pure bliss. 

You wanted back into his arms, you wanted to kiss him so badly that your blood was burning from the need to feel him like you'd never been able to before. And yet, you knew there was something else you needed to do before you could finally do it.

“Spence, you don’t push away the people you love, no matter the cost. You rely on their love to help aid you when you’re at your lowest.” You gave his sides a light squeeze before you looked back into his eyes, only to see them hopeful and uncertain at the same time.

He looked hopeful, for the possibility that you might actually love him back, but uncertain because it felt like you might be pushing him away this time. 

“I can’t go through this again. Having to watch you wither away, in prison, at home, or by your own thoughts, I won’t be able to handle being pushed away again,” whispers, cries, pleas, memories full of heartbreak intertwined with present confessions full of joy. 

His eyes watered then, his lips trembling. Any sign of hope was gone, and in its’ place stood the realization of a man who’d maybe gone a little too far. He’d pushed you away, and now, it was your time to be the one sticking and twisting the knife deep, breaking his heart in the process. 

If someone were to ask him at that moment what his biggest regret was, he’d say this. This was his biggest regret, his own choices. 

A tear escaped him, and you reached up, wiping it away gently before you spoke again.

“If..if this is going to go anywhere, you need to rely on me. You need to believe that I can handle anything and everything, just as long as you are by my side. All those years of being pushed away - your addiction, Maeve and Gideon’s deaths, your mom’s diagnosis, Cat Adams - you weren’t alone then, you aren’t alone now, and you won’t be alone in the future. You’ll always have me by your side, you’ll always have my support. Most of all, you’ll have my love, but when things get hard, I need you to lean on me, and trust that I can help you because together we can pull through everything, anything is possible as long as we are together.” You finished on an exhale, full-on crying now. You could barely see him, but from the little you could, you saw tears streaming down his face, and a smile that grew wide, happy.

Those words, he knew them word for word. For 13 days, he’d repeat them, no longer needing to see them written down, he had them engraved in his brain. Your letters he could recite, but your final one he’d remember as long as he lived. 

“I promise to lean on you and trust that you’d help me because together we can pull through everything, anything is possible as long as we are together,” he whispered back, his eyes searching yours for just a moment before he pulled you in, and finally, his lips met yours. 

He kissed you, tentative at first, testing the waters. He wanted to take his time, commit your lips to memory, gentle, and plump, exactly how he’d imagined they’d feel. The more he kissed you, the more he couldn’t stop. Passion, urgency, desire - his kisses turned desperate like he wanted to swallow you whole and never let you go. 

He bit your lip gently, asking for access, before his tongue intertwined with yours and he pulled you flush against him, closing any gap left between you. Chest, hips, there wasn’t an inch where you weren’t touching. 

It felt so familiar, even though you hadn’t kissed before. So right, like no one's kisses had felt before. As if your whole lives, kissing each other was the missing piece in a complicated puzzle, waiting to be put together. Coming together as one, it felt magnetic, a feeling of euphoria, pure ecstasy, no one else mattered, no other feeling mattered at that moment, other than your hands on each other and your lips locked together. 

Time was passing by, and you didn’t care. Years of missed opportunities, hidden feelings, and long-awaited realizations all led to this moment. Starved for each other, a kiss full of fervor and even the taste of tears was present. Unimaginable, but very real.

When you finally pulled apart, he wiped your tears, and you wiped his in turn, before he gathered you back in the comfort of his arms, laying a kiss on the side of your head.

And between the four walls around you, nestled in each other’s arms, the place where no one could touch you, in a shared breath you both whispered. 

“I love you.” 

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[fayes-fics]

Second Son

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader

Summary: The second son is, for once, the first choice...

Warnings: none really... mild angst, family dynamics, love at first sight.

Word Count: 2.9k

Authors Note: Request fill for anon here, about Benedict being the second choice for everything.... until his love turns up. Thanks for this request; I hope this is angsty enough for you anon. Im not sure about it tbh. Sorry that it's taken more than three months to get to it on my WIP list. Unbetaed. Enjoy <3

Benedict Bridgerton was born into privilege and can have few complaints. Except perhaps that he is always second. The spare. The just-in-case option. Being a familial insurance policy lends one more freedom than the burden of being the titled first son, perhaps, but it also feels like your whole existence, in some respects, can seem like a contingency plan.

____

His stomach swoops with excitement as the arrow pierces the target dead on the bullseye. And on his first ever archery lesson, just after his twelfth birthday.

He turns around to see if anyone is there to witness his triumph, but it goes unmarked. All his young siblings gathered around Anthony, patting him on the back for his achievements in doing the same moments before. Being a good shot is an essential skill for the next Viscount indeed. The fact that he has been receiving instruction for months already and this is Benedict’s first lesson hurts a little.

But he doesn't bother to bring attention to his arguably more impressive feat. It seems pointless now. Wordlessly he shrugs and walks towards the target, plucking out his arrow and starting again. Perhaps next time, they will notice.

____

“Is that the new Viscount Bridgerton?” Benedict hears a young girl murmur as he sweeps into the first societal event of the season, the spring following his father's death. 

“Oh no, my dear, sadly not; I believe that is one of the brothers,” her mother replies, acting as if he has no sense of hearing, even trying to ignore it as he is, surveying the crowd.

“Such a shame,” the young girl huffs, “he is so very handsome.”

“Yes, dear, but sadly not titled. We can do better,” her mother chides, moving them along out of earshot.

He will never get over how cutthroat the Ton can be, a part of his tender seventeen-year-old heart sinking. Not that he had a potential interest in that girl, more the principle that he will somehow be rendered as an also-ran, at best a consolation prize, for the rest of his life.

What is most galling, perhaps, is that, when his mother needs their presence the most on a night like tonight, the new VIscount is nowhere to be seen. Has not even bothered to show his face, running off to some spurious gambling den and brothel, spending the night indulging himself rather than facing society. 

So here Benedict is, stepping up to play the dutiful son that his elder brother should be. Being the support their mother so desperately needs at her first event as a widow, her arm looped heavily through his, her whole bodyweight seeming to use him as her literal pillar of support. As he escorts her around the room, he is filled with admiration at her brave face. He can see the overwhelming sadness in her eyes every time the word dowager is invoked, and his heart cracks a little at the loneliness he can feel emanating from his mother’s very soul. 

“Tis a shame the Viscount did not deign the first event of the season worthy of his patronage,” she states pointedly as she sips champagne.

“I am sure he has very good reasons for his absence,” Benedict replies soothingly, covering for his errant brother, attempting to shield their mother from the truth of his philandering ways. Benedict knows it is Anthony’s way of dealing with the responsibility of the title of Viscount being thrust upon him so young. But sometimes, just sometimes, Benedict wishes he could escape his grief in such a manner, Anthony taking his turn attending a stuffy ball and playing guardian to a grieving woman. Their burdens may be different, but the wish to escape them is often not, Benedict realises.

____

She catches his eye at a garden party at Aubrey Hall. She is a pretty young lady, maybe eighteen to his twenty-three, with bright eyes and a sweet, happy face. She makes his palms slightly sweaty. He watches her from a distance, uncertain how to approach or what to say, feeling a little tongue-tied, even. 

Just then, Anthony materialises at his shoulder.

“Who is that pretty young thing?” Anthony asks, tracing Benedict’s line of sight.

“Miss Bradstreet,” he replies, watching as she turns to face the sun, closing her eyes, basking in its warmth. The light captures her cheekbones perfectly, and he itches to have his sketchbook and capture her likeness. He would very much like to get to know her better.

“Let's go provide a warm welcome,” Anthony smirks, clapping a hand on Benedict’s shoulder and practically dragging him across the lawn.

Benedict reluctantly follows, a flutter of excitement as her eyes land upon them as they approach. 

“Miss Bradstreet,” Anthony swaggers. “Viscount Bridgerton at your service; I am so very pleased to be your host today,” he bows.

Benedict's stomach plunges as he watches her practically melt into the lawn right there, virtually swooning at Anthony’s feet.

“Oh, and this is my brother, Benedict,” Anthony adds, almost as an afterthought. 

She flicks her head to the side briefly to politely acknowledge Benedict before returning to Anthony. All of her undivided adoring attention on him as he regales the story of his latest hunting triumphs upon her insistence. Benedict heaves a sigh and watches as yet another young lady he likes chooses his brother over him. He is almost used to it now, but it doesn't stop the sting every time.

____

Your world grinds to a halt as you see him. He is descending the stairs with what you assume is the rest of his family. He is very much in the middle of a tight circle, walking behind what appears to be his mother and perhaps older brother. Quite the most beautiful man you have ever seen, your heart pounding in your ears, your throat suddenly dry despite the lemonade in your hand. You assume they must be the hosts, seeing as they are the very last to enter the ballroom here at Bridgerton House, and there is no announcement of their name.

“Who is that?” you whisper, leaning towards your elder sister. She has been out among society for a year and knows the Ton better than you.

“That is the Bridgerton family, of course,” she replies. “Illustrious in the extreme. Our hosts for this evening. The Viscount there is the most eligible bachelor of every season… and every season, he has resisted a match. So I wouldn't bother if I were you,” she sniffs.

“Which is the Viscount?” you check, your eyes unable to leave the beautiful man with a cravat tied in the most unconventional fashion.

“The one with his arm looped with their mother, the dowager Viscountess, naturally,” your sister rolls her eyes as if patently obvious.

“And what of the others?” you inquire keenly, realising the man you admire cannot be the one your sister is referring to. “Do you know their names?”

“I do not,” she admits, “such things are not really important when one is looking for a titled husband,” she points out airily. 

You nod, knowing the responsibility your sister must carry as firstborn to find a suitable match that can provide for your widowed mother and, indeed, perhaps yourself and your younger sister should neither of you be able to find a husband. You don’t envy her position one little bit. 

You are, however, desperate to get closer to the most beautiful man you have ever seen. And so you spend your evening working towards them, in as polite of a fashion as you can, your stomach in knots of excitement to know him.

“Dowager Viscountess Bridgerton, it is an honour and a pleasure to meet you,” you curtsy, heart pounding as he now stands a few feet away, unable to look at him so close by.

“Hello, my dear and you are?” she asks politely.

“Miss y/n y/l/n, it is my very first season; I am so honoured to be here,” you explain. “I must provide the apologies of my mother, Mrs y/l/n, who could not attend tonight due to a cold, but she is so very thankful for the invitation.”

“Oh, of course,” the viscountess smiles. “I am so sorry to hear of her illness; please pass on my best regards… Anthony!” she turns to her side to grab the attention of a man. The viscount’s head whips around from where he is in discussion with another. “Come meet Miss y/l/n,” she needles pointedly. “Miss y/l/n, this is the Viscount Anthony Brdgerton, and he is so pleased not only to make your acquaintance but also for your presence here tonight,” she welcomes on his behalf, and you do not miss the subtle nudge in the ribs she gives him.

Then his regard is drawn to you. He is handsome certainly, and you appreciate his polite but absent-minded greeting. His attentions are obviously elsewhere, but then you cannot fault him as yours are the same. Your gaze strays over his shoulder to the man who first captures your attention. And your breath is stolen by how his hazy blue eyes stare intently at you.

____

Benedict is twenty-six years old when he is struck by lightning. Not literally. But that is the sensation that runs through his body when he first lays eyes on you—politely introducing yourself to his mother and thanking her for your invitation to this ball. 

He thought he knew what attraction was until this point. He thought he knew the depths to which one could fall in love in an instant. He was an utter fool. He looks at you, and at once, everything is so quiet and loud all at once. He is desperate to know you in a way he has never felt. To grab your hand, take you somewhere, and ask you a million questions to get to know your soul. He also wants to kiss you so much that his lips tingle. And inside, his lungs want to scream as his mother does the natural thing and introduces the beautiful, polite young lady to her most eligible son… Anthony. 

Then his heart jolts as your eyes stray from Anthony and meets his, your pupils dilating in a way that makes his lungs too small to inhale air. It is the first and only time a young woman has had Anthony’s full attention and has looked away from it. And to him, no less. The tidal flood of chemicals in his system makes it feel like he is vibrating in his very shoes.

____

You try your best to be polite and look at Anthony as he speaks, but your sight is drawn to this other man like a moth to a flame. From appearance, the second son, as you are the second daughter. A flare of understanding and sympathy in your chest as to how that is. You want to grab his hand and run away with him.

“My lord,” you find your voice and snap your eyes back to the Viscount, “would you do me the honour of introducing me to the rest of your wonderful family?” your ask, almost timid.

He looks temporarily taken aback, as if mystified why anyone in the Ton would care about the status of anyone beyond his mother and himself. You smile at him expectantly and do not miss, from the corner of your eye, how the beautiful man’s face is awash with surprise at your request.

“Oh, most certainly,” Anthony seems to snap out of his temporary stupor and turns to introduce his siblings in attendance. A tall, baby-faced young man stands to attention as Anthony moves from left to right. “This is Colin; he has just returned from his travels in Greece,” you nod and smile politely, knowing nothing of the subject. “And this is my sister, Eloise; it is her first season, and she is not in the slightest bit happy about that,” he adds dryly, and you can't help but giggle and feel a kinship with the spirited young lady who returns your wry smile. “My eldest sister, the Duchess of Hastings, who is visiting us,”

You curtsy and bow your head. “It is an honour, your Grace,” you add, and she smiles sweetly at you, her arm looped in her mother's.

“Obviously, you have met my mother,” he continues, and suddenly he is the last in the line. You feel your palms clench, sweaty in anticipation of learning his name “... and this is my brother, Benedict; he hopes to be an artist.”

You are finally brave enough to meet his eyes again. He is so achingly beautiful that the rest of his family, indeed the whole ballroom, melt away from your view—he is all you can see.

“Oh, I adore art,” you stutter, mesmerised, offering your hand to him, the first and only person in the family you do so to. Unseen by you, your gaze only on one man, Anthony’s mouth drops open in surprise.

Nothing can prepare you for when Benedict’s gloved hand gently touches yours, him bowing to kiss the back of your hand. You catch a woody citrus scent that makes your mouth water as he does so. And then you feel the warmth of his lips through your glove, and you are utterly undone.

“Miss y/l/n,” he rumbles quietly, the sound making your insides melt even more; it's deep and resonant and makes every inch of your body tingle.

“Please call me y/n,” you murmur, moving closer, knowing how scandalous that might be, but seemingly unable to stop yourself. He has a hypnotic hold over you that you don't want to fight.

“Only if you shall call me Benedict,” he breathes, and it takes Anthony clearing his throat to make you spring apart, suddenly remembering where you are.

____

His lips touch the silk of your glove, and he is gone. 

Already planning a future, his mind supplying images of you at his cottage out in the country, the lady of the house. Tending to the herb garden, reading happily curled up in front of the fire in the drawing room, fearlessly plucking a bow as you stand in front of joint archery targets gently teasing him for losing to a girl, and finally, the image that truly knocks the wind out of him, you naked under him, desperately moaning his name as you move together, entwined in ecstasy.

He hears your sharp inhale, and his heart skips at the idea you feel it too. That you are the first woman ever that sees him and not Anthony. Really sees him. Not as the second son. Not as a consolation prize. 

And when your body seems to sway towards him, he is already mentally asking his mother for a betrothal ring from her grandmother, which she said she is keeping just for him.

____

“Benedict,” his name feels wonderful in your mouth, like a gift from the heavens. “Please, may we take a turn around the gardens?” you implore, the boldest you have ever been in your whole life. 

“It would be my very greatest pleasure,” he responds.

And you know with absolute certainty you have met your husband, the father of your children, your very future. 

____

“It is not as if this is my show….” he sighs.

“You should not do that, darling,” you say affectionately, ruffling his hair as you move to fix his cravat; it definitely needs to be more jaunty, in your opinion.

“Do what?” he breathes, his wedding ring catching the light as he places his hands gently over yours and stills your motions.

“Think of yourself as second,” you argue, running your hand over his cheek. “This gallery opening may feature others' work too, but you are the star of the exhibit,” you reassure, tilting his forehead down so it rests upon yours.

There it is again. That look that always floors you. Even now, a year later. Like you are the most wondrous creature, and he can scarcely believe you are his.

“Never forget, you will always be first to me,” you utter fiercely, watching his eyes soften with devotion. “And not just me….” you guide his sizeable warm hand onto the swell of your belly, “to us. We love you so much, Benedict,” your tone is ardent, wanting him to believe he deserves this recognition, that he should believe in himself the way that you do.

“I love you, too,” he responds quietly, reverentially. “So very much. Both of you are my whole world,” his voice choked with emotion, and you throw your arms around him and squeeze hard, wanting to telegraph just how much he is the very centre of your universe.

An hour later, you clutch your hands over your chest as you watch him being brought onto the raised stage and introduced to the crowd as they applaud him and his work rapturously, awaiting to hear him talk of his art. As he does so, you stroke your belly unseen under your cloak, beaming with pride for your wonderful husband.

____

He sees your face in the crowd, and as ever, it calms him, especially at this landmark moment. So as he finishes the speech that he has rehearsed for days now, he decides to do something perhaps unconventional but something he seems unable to resist.

“Lastly, before I allow you back to your champagne,” he jests, finally at ease with the attention and recognition. “I want to thank my life’s inspiration, the very reason I stand before you today. My wonderful wife. Thank you, my love, for being the light of my life; for always making this second son your first choice. You will always, always be my first choice. I love you.” 

Benedict taglist: @makaylan @foreverlonginguniverse @iboopedyournose @colettebronte @aintnuthinbutahounddog @severewobblerlightdragon @margofiore @writergirl-2001 @heeyyyou @enichole445 @enchantedbytomandhenry @ambitionspassionscoffee @chaoticcalzoneranchsports @nikaprincessofkattegat @baebee35 @crowleysqueenofhell @bridgertontess @fiction-is-life @lilacbeesworld @angels17324 @broooookiecrisp @queen-of-the-misfit-toys @eleanor-bradstreet @divaanya @musicismyoxygen84 @benedictspaintbrush @miindfucked @sorryallonsy @lilithseve @cayt0123 @hottytoddyhistory @truly-dionysus @fictionalmenloversblog @zinzysstuff @malpalgalz @panhoeofmanyfandoms @kinokomoonshine @causeimissu @delehosies @mlovesbridgerton @m-rae23 @last-sheep

[starlost97]

— prettiest.

summary: With Charles questionable dating history, you didn't want to risk getting into a relationship with someone with that reputation. He was, however, determined to change your mind. And when you did, he couldn't be happier.

tags: fluff, Charles Leclerc is a simp, f!reader.

characters: Charles Leclerc, Carlos Sainz Jr. (mentioned).

warnings: swearing.

a/n: pathetic men begging for a chance? yes please. also love u charles but u would never see a glimpse of any of my female friends <3 anyways don't take it too seriously! enjoy :)

word count: 461.

requested?: yes! by a friend.

The world is a cruel place.

Charles, however, was the only one to blame in this situation.

He was also the only one that could fix it.

When you told him that despite your feelings for him, you wouldn’t date someone with such a questionable dating history, the driver was extremely sad. Everyone heard the jokes about how you can’t introduce your female friends to Charles, so why would you risk getting in a relationship with someone with that kind of reputation?

Well, the monegasque made sure to show you everything he had to offer.

Liking all your instagram photos, commenting on them — and making all their fans go wild in the process —, shamelessly staring at you — although that wasn’t really on purpose — when you appeared on screen. The world knew how obsessed he was with you.

He stopped going to parties. He only went to them when he knew you were there, and that was clear.

Charles didn't ask you out again for a long time, though. As if he had a plan to complete before allowing himself to bother you again.

But God, he was terrible at hiding how badly he wanted to take you out. To treat you just like you deserved. To turn all his adoration into worship.

He did last surprisingly long, however. It wasn't hard to exceed the expectations when they were that low. Even Carlos thought that he would last two days without telling you how much he loved you.

Well, he lasted four. And he was very proud of it.

“You're so beautiful.” He mumbled, staring adoringly at you. “Such a shame I didn't win you yet.”

“Yet?” You asked, smiling. “So full of confidence, aren't you?”

“How could I not be? I just made the prettiest girl in the world smile.” Charles said, stroking your cheek. “Come on, give me a chance. I'm starting to get desperate.”

“Sorry, starting?” You breathed out, starting to laugh.

“Alright, you got me. I'm desperate already. Hopelessly desperate.” Charles said, feeling butterflies only with your laugh.

You two stared at each other's eyes for some time, sharing adoration.

“You better not make me regret this, Leclerc.” You mumbled, getting up from the couch and walking away.

Charles was quick to grab your hand and pull you to himself. Your faces were now close to each other, and you could feel his quick heartbeat against your chest.

“I swear that you won't.” He said, closing the gap between you and kissing your lips, feeling as relief filled him. “Fuck, how can your kiss be so sweet?”

He stared at you in disbelief. He indeed just kissed perfection, didn't he?

“I might have to kiss you again and again to find out, pretty girl.”