#with the most depressing author's note ever

[juniperika]

sometimes you have a shit day and you check ao3 only to find the sweetest sweetest comment in your inbox and the day becomes bearable

[theostrophywife]

curiosity killed the cat.

pairing: regulus black x reader.

song inspiration: late night talking by harry styles.

author's note: i've been in such a writing rut lately, but sweet baby boy reggie is singlehandedly bringing me out of it. this idea has been floating in my mind for a while so I hope you all enjoy it. <3

Curiosity killed the cat.

The irony of the phrase wasn’t entirely lost on Regulus as he cautiously peered through the bustling kitchen. The elves were cleaning up after supper, humming and working diligently to keep the castle in order behind the scenes. Some of them leaned down to reach for him with soapy fingers, but he narrowly avoided each attempt, baring his teeth in warning. 

They would not deter him from his true mission to infiltrate the basement. Having explored all the nooks and crannies Hogwarts had to offer, the Hufflepuff common room was his Atlantis—the last unexplored territory that he had yet to set foot in. 

In his current state, it was perhaps more accurate to say that Regulus had never set paw in this corner of the castle. Most of the time, he found his spontaneous transformations terribly inconvenient, but as Regulus slipped past the door without a trace, the youngest Black brother was suddenly grateful for his complete lack of mastery over his Animagus form. 

To be fair, he was only trying to find some peace and quiet. As of late, Regulus had become particularly fond of the kitchens. It was always warm down here and the smell of freshly baked bread wafted from the ovens and beckoned him towards its glorious scent like a beacon. Not to mention the fact that the elves often left a bowl of cold milk for him every night. 

Well, he supposed it wasn’t exactly for him. At least, not his true human form. The elves were not fond of Regulus the person, but they did adore the feral black cat that haunted the halls of Hogwarts. 

Potato, potato. 

The point is, that his benevolent caretakers were typically careful about securing the ever mysterious door at the end of his little haven. Lest he get his wily little paws all over those timid badgers. Much to his delight, the security measure was not in place tonight. The door was wide open, presenting Regulus with an offer that was simply too good to pass up. 

With a shimmy, he slinked behind enemy lines. Despite being located in the lower levels of the castle like the dungeons were, the Hufflepuff common room was far more welcoming. Instead of gothic furnishings and depressing color palettes, Regulus was greeted with warm earth tones and mismatched furniture. Plants of all shapes and sizes littered the room, which were far more pleasant to look upon than the haughty portraits that lined his own common room. At least the mimbulus in the corner didn’t sputter out rather unnecessary comments about the length of his curls every time he entered the dungeons. 

The Hufflepuffs seemed averse to the menacing lighting that his fellow serpents seemed so fond of, choosing instead to illuminate their space with enchanted sun lamps. It was charming and cozy, if one were to take notice of such things. Malfoy would have deemed it greenhouse chic with a sneer that conveyed aristocratic distaste. For that reason alone, Regulus decided he liked the place. 

The growing fondness was solidified as he followed the intoxicating scent of banana nut muffins. The trail led him to a dorm tucked away into the heart of the basement. Luckily for Regulus, the door was slightly ajar, which was more than enough permission for him to venture inside and make himself comfortable. It was the standard issue room—two beds, two desks, and two dressers. Yet the right side drew his attention. 

The top of the nightstand was brimming with books, all stacked in no particular order. The color scheme of the blankets and pillows consisted of golds, pinks, and oranges, reminding Regulus of the sunset. Fairy lights and enchanted plants provided a lived in feel, which was more than he could say for his obsessively neat dorm with its alphabetically arranged library and utilitarian furniture. Everything in his room was designed with practicality instead of comfort in mind. A choice he was rather proud of until the stark contrast made his space feel cold and rigid in comparison.

The reading nook nestled beside the hearth drew him in like a moth to a flame. Regulus inspected the cloud chair, stomping on the soft woven blanket and plush pillows with his paw before coming to the conclusion that it was as good a place as any to burrow. 

This was the life, he said. Or purred, if he was being technical. 

As Regulus enjoyed the comforts of his newfound paradise, he failed to consider the fact that this dorm belonged to someone and that someone would likely be back any second to reclaim their refuge, given the late hour. Engrossed as he was with licking his paws, Regulus startled when the door swung open. Instantly, he recognized the owner of the dorm as the shy and quiet Hufflepuff that sat beside him in Charms. Regulus lifted a paw to his furry head, feeling foolish that he had not connected the dots earlier. 

No wonder the banana muffin scent drew him in. Every now and then, he caught a whiff of it in class when you quietly claimed the spot beside him. The colorful scrunchies on the dresser also sparked his memory. How many times had Regulus witnessed you twisting the hair tie around your wrist as you quietly murmured the correct answers to Professor Flitwick’s questions under your breath? It never made much sense to him that you would allow the others to blatter and stutter through topics you were clearly an expert on, but Regulus attributed that to his proximity to pompous know-it-all pricks all his life. Slytherins were known to be showoffs, but you seemed to be the complete opposite. 

Perhaps that was the reason why he stayed. Well, that and the fact that he was currently too comfortable to even dream of leaving his sanctuary. Really, the decision was made for him. Regulus watched as you settled into your desk, studying diligently as your quill flew across the parchment. Every so often, you leaned back against the chair and stared at whatever problem eluded you as though intimidating the parchment would bring forth the correct answer. It was rather endearing. Dare he say, charming. 

In his mind, only minutes had passed since the start of your silent companionship, but a glance at the clock said otherwise. It was nearly midnight at this rate. As Regulus grumbled about his inevitable separation from the comfy cloud couch, a group of girls spilled into the room. They briefly said hello to you before gathering at the vanity table on the left side of the room. Regulus assumed one of them was your roommate. Probably the dark haired girl chattering on about the party the Gryffindors were hosting tonight. 

“Do you think Cormac will be there?” she asked hopefully. 

The other girls nodded in agreement, asking questions about the older boy with misplaced  enthusiasm. Regulus wrinkled his nose. McLaggen, really? Your roommate truly needed to raise her standards. He glanced over in your direction, snorting as he caught the tail end of your grimace. Clearly, you weren’t a fan either. 

After the girls were satisfied with their appearances, your roommate sauntered over to your desk with a friendly smile. “Would you like to come to the party with us, Y/N?” 

Before you could answer, one of the other girls rudely interrupted. “Oh no, Y/N doesn’t go to parties. She’s too shy.” 

Regulus vaguely recognized the annoyingly nasally tone of the speaker. He thought her name was Brandy or Brenda. Whichever one it was, she always hung around the quidditch team batting her eyelashes and laughing in an exaggerated way that bordered on deranged. It deeply irritated Regulus. 

“Isn’t that right, Y/N? Our little bookworm only prefers the company of her novels. No chance of embarrassing yourself in front of boys when they’re just words on paper.” 

“That’s mean, Britt,” scolded your roommate. 

Regulus very much wanted to scamper across the room and bite Britt’s ankles. He lifted his head up as you stood, mentally encouraging you to even the score by chucking a tome at that horrid girl’s head, but instead you simply smoothed down the front of your gingham dress and smiled. 

“Thanks for the offer, Mina, but I think I’ll stay in tonight. You girls have fun though.” 

The others were more than happy to flee the awkward tension in the room. You bid them goodbye at the door before closing it behind you. As it clicked into place, you released a sigh. Regulus tracked your movements as you swiped a book from the teetering tower on your nightstand before collapsing into bed. 

“God, what’s wrong with me?” You whispered softly to yourself. “It’s Friday night. I should be going out and partying, but instead I’m wallowing alone. No wonder everyone thinks I’m just a boring bookworm.”

Regulus voiced his disagreement. Unfortunately for him, the words came out as a series of meows. He blended in amongst the blankets, his whiskers barely peeking out from a distance. Unaware of his presence, you yelped at the strange cat peering at you from the reading nook. The noise startled Regulus, causing him to launch across the room and into the bed. 

“Oh, it’s just you.” You sat upright, cocking your head at him. Your fingers twitched at your side, probably itching to pet him. You restrained yourself, respecting his general aversion to humans. “If you’re here to bring me bad luck, then I’m sorry to say that I’ve got enough of that on my own already.” 

In protest, Regulus attempted to headbutt your hand, but it only resulted in an unintentional nuzzle. You chuckled in amusement before carefully patting his furry head. He dodged your hand and swiped at your leg, but the padding motions quickly turned to him just making biscuits on your thigh. 

You chuckled in response. “Hm, everyone says you’re a mean kitty, but I think you’re just a little misunderstood.” Regulus huffed, but his displeasure was short lived as you scratched under his chin. He was only slightly embarrassed at how eager he was to receive more. “Look at us, we make quite the pair.” 

At that, Regulus purred in agreement.

From that night forward, Regulus became a frequent visitor. He hadn’t intended on making a habit of it, but every time Regulus accidentally transformed, he found himself in your dorm. It wasn’t his fault that it was warm and toasty and smelled like pastries. If you weren’t trying to attract a feral cat, you shouldn’t have made your room so inviting. 

During one of his visits, your roommate walked by and yelped at the sight of him. Regulus lifted his chin up in challenge as he claimed his rightful seat on your lap. “Is that the feral cat that almost took off Cedric’s fingers?” 

Regulus purred in answer. He was rather proud of that moment. Would’ve gotten away with it too had it not been for Diggory’s quick reflexes. 

You barely looked up from your book as you combed through his fur. “Mhm. He likes to follow me around sometimes. He’s like my little shadow.” A bright smile curved against your lips. “Oh, I think we found you a name. Shadow.” 

From then on, Regulus wore the name like a badge. The name seemed to awaken more of his animal instincts because his spontaneous transformations became a rather frequent occurrence. At the beginning, they were isolated to nights and thus easier to manage, but now his Animagus form seemed to have no respect for convenience. As of late, the transformations were happening more and more often with absolutely no rhyme or reason. 

The only common denominator seemed to be you. Every time Regulus was in his Animagus form, he sought you out. Whether he was interrupting Potions class to jump in your lap or resting next to you in the courtyard while you read, Regulus was resigned to the fact that he would end up in your proximity one way or another. He basked in the attention you showered him with, shamelessly nuzzling against your hand for more chin scratches and cuddles. It became a routine for the two of you. Most nights, you read in silence as he curled against you for warmth, but other nights, your inner monologue spilled out and he listened to you grapple with your shyness and anxiety. 

Funny, you didn’t seem all that reserved around him. But then again he had taken on the form of a grumpy yet harmless cat. You were none the wiser that Regulus Black was currently purring for more pets as you lamented over the events of the day. He listened intently, not quite understanding your desire to become more sociable. You seemed to view it as a deficiency, but Regulus had always leaned towards the extremities of introvertedness. Though in his case, no one batted an eye when he was abrupt and abrasive. It was just how he was. 

Hufflepuffs, on the other hand, were expected to be sunshine and butterflies. You were, Regulus thought. In your own quiet way, you radiated joy. It wasn’t loud or obnoxious or overbearing. It was just right. Regulus longed to tell you just as much, but it wasn’t like he was in a position to. Outside these late night talks, the two of you hardly spoke a word to one another. 

Perhaps it was time to change that. 

The first time Regulus tried to speak to you was a complete and utter disaster. 

It was bright and early on a Monday morning. You slipped into your seat a few minutes before the start of Charms. The two of you were always the first ones in class, so he figured it was an opportune time to strike up a conversation without overwhelming you. 

“How was your weekend?” 

You blinked up at him, surveying the room covertly as though you weren’t quite sure that he was speaking to you. Regulus watched you flush as you realized that he was indeed addressing the question to you.

“It was good,” you responded cautiously. “How was yours?” 

Regulus paused. “It was…fine.” 

Never in his life had he wanted to swan dive into the Black Lake and become fodder for the merpeople. The response was a natural conversation killer, but he couldn’t very well tell you that he spent the entire weekend lounging in your dorm as you read Pride and Prejudice for the umpteenth time. That little revelation probably would’ve resulted in a restraining order. 

The short and awkward dialogue made him cringe internally, but you simply smiled politely at him. For Salazar’s sake, where was the basilisk when Regulus needed it?

When lunch came around, he was still pondering the less than lackluster encounter. Regulus needed to find a way in. As his friends chattered and chatted, he stared intently across the Great Hall and watched you. Things were so much easier when you thought he was a cat. 

“Reg, mate, you haven’t blinked for like five minutes. You’re really starting to freak me out.” 

The annoying little quip from Nott brought Regulus out of his stupor. Had he truly been staring for that long? He hoped to Godric that you hadn’t caught him being an utter creep. A sly glance told him that you were none the wiser as you continued chatting with Luna Lovegood and Ginny Weasley. He turned to Theodore and frowned. 

“What are you staring at, anyways?” asked Mattheo. The curly headed git surveyed the room for the object of his friend’s focus, which only made Regulus more irate. 

“Nothing,” Regulus mumbled. 

Riddle, ever the menace, grinned as he spotted you. “Doesn’t look like nothing to me.” 

He elbowed Theo, who smirked once he too caught sight of you. “Say, Reggie, don’t you have Charms with that cute little Hufflepuff?” 

“Shut it, Nott.” 

“Whoa, a little touchy there, aren’t we? No need to fret. I won’t turn my Italian charms on her. After all, I wouldn’t dare go after one of my mate’s crushes.” 

Regulus bristled. “I do not have a crush.” 

“Sure, mate, and I’m Harry bloody Potter,” scoffed Mattheo. “You’re not fooling anyone, you know.” 

“Does this conversation have a purpose besides showcasing your remarkable skill of grating my nerves?” 

“Aw, Reggie’s upset.” Mattheo and Theodore chuckled as Regulus stood abruptly. He flung the napkin onto his plate and walked off without explanation. “Don’t worry, mate. We won’t tell anyone about your secret girlfriend.”

Unfortunately for Regulus, the childish teasing gained traction over the next few days. Trust Nott and Riddle to be a general nuisance to his everyday life. Every time you walked past Regulus in the halls, his friends (debatable as of late) would nudge him and smirk. Given that Mattheo and Theo possessed the subtlety of a bull in a china shop, you were definitely beginning to notice. 

Even worse, Lorenzo had taken it upon himself to chat you up in the courtyard. Regulus looked on in horror as his best friend laughed and gesticulated alongside you on the bench. His presence had not gone unnoticed by their fellow classmates. A crowd of Hufflepuffs began crowding near your usual spot under the willow tree and Regulus could easily spot the tell-tale signs of your anxiety blooming. He needed to put an end to this. 

“Berkshire, can I talk to you for a second?” 

Lorenzo appeared completely unbothered as he nodded. “Sure, just let me wrap up here. Reg, you’ve met Y/N, right? She was kind enough to lend me notes for History of Magic.” 

You looked up and gave Regulus a shy wave. The desire to throttle Lorenzo diminished by a few notches. “Sorry about him. Berkshire’s a bit overeager. Not fully trained, you see.” 

His friend protested the accusation. “Hey, I’m standing right here!” 

Regulus ignored his protests. Lorenzo might as well have been halfway across the world with how little attention he paid to his friend. He was far too busy being enamored with the way you tried to bite back a grin.

“Thank you for indulging him. I’ll make sure he doesn’t go off leash again.” 

You chuckled. “It’s alright, really. I’ve got a habit of attracting strays.” 

“Where is that little monster of yours, anyways? Busy clawing off some unsuspecting student’s face?” Lorenzo quipped. 

“Shadow isn’t so bad. He’s actually very sweet, once you get to know him.”

Regulus tried not to grin. 

Lorenzo shot him a knowing look. “Sounds like someone else I know.” 

Regulus rolled his eyes. “Sorry again about him. I’ll make sure he returns your notes.” He tugged Lorenzo by the collar. “Now let’s go, Berkshire. We’re going to be late for practice.” 

“Bye, Y/N!” Lorenzo called over his shoulder. “Don’t be a stranger.” 

“Bye, Lorenzo,” you said with an amused smile. “I’ll see you in class, Regulus.” 

Regulus couldn’t help but smile. “See you in class, Y/N.” 

Thanks to his meddlesome friends, Regulus kept finding himself in less than ideal situations. The twats seemed determined to force you two together. Lorenzo, most of all. 

Every time they studied in the library, you seemed to conveniently be seated a few desks away. Every time they were walking back from quidditch practice, you coincidentally seemed to be headed to the greenhouse. Every time Lorenzo fetched something in his locker, you just so happened to be walking by between classes. 

It was during one of these times that Regulus overheard Britt making snippy little comments about your dresses and bows, commenting on how you were always lost in your books, even citing the fact that the feral cat had taken a liking to you because birds of a feather flock together. Your roommate defended you, but she was a lone voice amongst the other mindless girls who laughed along with Britt. The next time Regulus ran into her in his cat form, he made sure to hiss and claw at her. 

In terms of finding his way in, Regulus had yet to crack the code. When it was just you and your Shadow, you spoke to him for hours and hours. But when he was actually himself, you were so quiet and reserved. 

“Why don’t you just talk to her?” Lorenzo offered. 

The glare Regulus cut his way was sharper than a splicing spell. “I’ve tried, but I’m terrible at it. I asked her about the weather, Enzo. The bloody weather!” 

To his credit, Lorenzo didn’t laugh. Instead, he seemed deep in thought. “You’ve got to find out what she’s passionate about. What’s something that she could talk about for hours and hours?” 

Regulus bolted out of his chair, startling Lorenzo. “You’re a genius, Berkshire.” 

His friend looked utterly confused. “Thanks, I suppose?” 

Half an hour later, Regulus found himself standing in a labyrinth. Plot Twist, the largest bookstore in the village, was as magical as you described it to be. Each aisle was filled to the brim with books, the shelves winding and twisting in on itself to reveal even more volumes. Soft classical music played throughout the shop, its interior filled with kitschy trinkets and illuminated by enchanted candles.

If Regulus recalled correctly, the latest installment of your favorite series just recently released. You mentioned it to Ginny in the Great Hall last week while he lounged on your lap. Was it ethical to eavesdrop on your conversations and use the information he gleaned to grow closer to you? Perhaps not, but he couldn’t help it. Cunning was in his nature. There was a reason Regulus was sorted into Slytherin, after all.

So here he was on a Friday afternoon, looking absolutely engrossed in the romance section of the bookstore. Regulus picked up a novel from the display. One of your favorites, of course. 

From the corner of his eye, Regulus glimpsed your entrance into the store. Naturally, you were headed in his direction since romance was your preferred guilty pleasure. He pretended to skim through the summary despite the fact that he already read the book in its entirety. When you were reading it back in your dorm, you blushed so much that he had to see what the fuss was about for himself. 

“Oh, that’s a really good one,” you said shyly. 

“Yeah?” Regulus asked, noting the pretty flush dusting your cheeks. “Have you read it before?” 

“About a thousand times.” 

“What’s the verdict, then? Would you recommend it to me?” 

You cocked your head in observation, taking him in. Regulus was acutely aware that he didn’t fit the usual demographic of romance novel readers. Hell, even his all black ensemble clashed with the vibrant book covers. 

“I know, I know. I have the looks of someone who would rather binge murder mysteries, but I’m trying to branch out.” 

The grin you gave him made his heart stutter. “Well, I’d be more than happy to be your guide.” 

Regulus had no idea why he hadn’t realized it sooner. Books—that was the gateway to your heart. He listened in fascination as you pulled books from the shelves, talking a mile a minute about your favorite authors, characters, and tropes. You lit up the entire room as you spoke, filling the place with your infectious energy. He had only ever seen you this way in the comfort of your own dorm, so he relished in the fact that he was witnessing this not as Shadow but as Regulus. 

“Oh my god, I’ve been rambling. I’m so sorry. Once I start, I just can’t seem to stop.” 

He smiled softly. Regulus could have listened to you talk about books for the rest of his life and never grow bored. “I don’t want you to stop. I like that you’re so passionate. It’s adorable.” 

Suddenly, Regulus wished he had a camera because the sight of you smiling up at him was a memory that needed to be captured and immortalized. For now, he settled for its dizzying aftereffects. 

“Thank you for letting me talk your ear off,” you said shyly as the two of you made your way to the counter. 

“No, thank you for helping me expand my horizons.” Regulus countered as he set both of your books down. 

You started to fish for your wallet, but Regulus simply waved you off. “Please, let me.” The shopkeeper gaped at him. “Would you mind putting everything on my tab?” 

“Of course, Mr. Black.” 

“Regulus is fine.” 

“Sure thing Mr.—I mean, Regulus.” 

As the shopkeeper carefully packed up the books, Regulus leaned in. “You can call me Reg, if you’d like. Reggie, if you’re feeling particularly brave.” 

You beamed. “Thank you, Reggie.” 

“You’re welcome, Y/N.” 

The Monday after the breakthrough, Regulus marched into Charms with purpose. You glanced up in amusement as he settled into his seat. 

“You were right. Your recommendations were fantastic. I read it all in one sitting.” 

“Which one?” you asked curiously. 

Back at the bookstore, you had gotten a little overzealous with the recommendations, but at the end, you managed to narrow it down to your absolute top picks. 

“All of them.” 

Your jaw nearly dropped. “You read all of them?” 

Regulus shrugged as if it were no big deal. “Yes.”

“Every single book?” 

“Mhm.”

“But I gave you six recommendations,” you stated incredulously. You considered yourself a voracious reader, but Regulus Black was giving you a run for your money. 

“And I devoured every single one.” 

As it turns out, that was all it took to unlock the floodgates. Soon your conversations flourished from books and literature to hobbies and future plans. Regulus could tell that you were warming up to him. The conversations that were once isolated to the Charms classroom flowed easily outside of it as well.

The first few times you were spotted together, it turned a few heads. 

Regulus had never been particularly known for his sociability, so he supposed it was a rather strange sight for everyone else to find him practically glued to your side. Never mind that he’d done it a hundred times before as your Shadow and no one ever said a word about it back then. As he spotted you in your usual spot under the willow tree, he found that he really didn’t give a damn what anyone else thought of your newfound friendship. 

“Is this seat taken?” 

You nodded as you moved your belongings to make room for him. “Yes, by you.” 

Regulus dropped his backpack by his feet before stretching his long legs out on the wooden bench. You watched in amusement as the wood creaked under his weight. “I prefer to be horizontal when I read. You don’t mind, do you?” 

“Knock yourself out, Mr. Black.”

“That’s Regulus to you, love.” 

“I thought it was Reg.” 

“Actually, I prefer Reggie. But only if it’s being used by you.” 

“Okay, Reggie.” 

He couldn’t help the smile that tugged at the corner of his lips. 

Despite spending time with you during the day, Regulus still made his visits in the night. He truly just couldn’t get enough. Thanks to his questionable methods, you were starting to open up to him more. Just that morning, the two of you ate breakfast together in the Great Hall. You teased him for eating such a bland meal. 

“Honestly, Regulus. We attend a magical school. You could ask for anything your little heart desires and you choose to eat gruel?” 

“It’s not gruel. It’s oatmeal.” 

“My point exactly.” 

“What’s wrong with oatmeal?” 

“Nothing, I suppose. If you prefer eating cement for breakfast.” 

“You’re awfully judgmental. Let’s take a closer look at your choices. A chocolate chip muffin? You might as well swallow a spoonful of sugar and call it a day.” 

“My apologies, Mr. Black. I forgot that you abhor flavor. Shall we share your cement goop, then?” 

“After you insulted my culinary preferences? I think not, Y/N.” 

Needless to say, the two of you got along like a house on fire. Both of your friends constantly teased you about the newfound friendship. Regulus simply rolled his eyes and brushed off the comments, but even his mates noticed the way he smiled every time you were mentioned. You knew your friends were bursting at the seams with questions regarding Regulus, but to their credit, Ginny and Luna were happy seeing you happy. 

Not everyone shared their enthusiasm though. Britt, in particular, was rather cross. It made no sense that someone like you would catch the attention of Regulus Black. She had harbored a crush on the youngest Black since third year and he could barely even spare her a glance, yet here you were receiving his full and undivided attention. Britt was seething with jealousy. She simply could not accept losing to you, of all people. 

Perhaps you dosed Regulus with a love potion. Perhaps he pitied you, viewed you as some wounded animal to save. Either way, Britt was convinced that Regulus wasn’t meant to be with someone like you. A shy and quiet girl who could never hope to hold his attention for long. She just had to make Regulus see it. The perfect opportunity presented itself one Friday afternoon.

In the crowded hall, Regulus shielded you from the incoming traffic of students rushing to their next class. It wasn’t much of an effort on his part since your fellow classmates cowered and parted as soon as they caught sight of your companion’s scowl.

“Reggie, could you try not to scare the first years away?” You teased, bumping your hip against his. “Poor Anderson looked ready to cry when you glared at him.” 

Regulus bumped you back. “He nearly stepped on your foot.” 

“Did that really warrant you threatening to hide bullfrogs underneath his pillows?” 

“You’re right, I’ve gone soft. I should’ve threatened him with fire serpents instead.” 

“You’re hopeless, Regulus.” 

Regulus placed a hand over his heart, feigning hurt. “You wound me, ma chérie.” 

The nickname made you flush. Regulus had never been more thankful that French was his native tongue. The language of love certainly had its effect on you. 

“However will you live?” 

“I’ll tell you what, if you come keep me company tonight, then all will be forgiven.” 

“I’m not helping you sneak bullfrogs into Anderson’s dorm.” 

He pouted in response. “Fine. I suppose we can have a quiet night in. Come join the dark side. We can read together in the common room.” 

“The dungeons?” You asked apprehensively. 

Though you’ve gotten used to the occasional Slytherin greeting you in the halls, the whole lot of them still terrified you. You weren’t quite sure how you felt about marching right into the serpent’s nest. 

“It’ll just be us,” Regulus added softly. “I’ll make sure of it.” 

The way he eased your worries was endearing. You bumped his hip again. “You can’t just kick people out of their own common room.”

“I’m Regulus Black,” he said haughtily. “Of course I can.” Regulus draped an arm over your shoulder and leaned in to whisper conspiratorially. “Come on, I know you’re dying to read that new novel you bought last weekend.” 

You rolled your eyes affectionately. He knew you too well. “You mean, the novel that you bought me. Against my will, thank you very much. I will pay you back.” Regulus started protesting, but you only held your hand up. “You’re right, though. I’m convinced. I’ll bring the snacks. Chocolate frogs for me and a bowl of gruel for you.” 

You yelped as Regulus dug his fingers into your side. “It’s a date, love.” 

Regulus paced back and forth, watching the door to the dungeons. To say he was nervous would’ve been an understatement. 

As soon as classes were dismissed for the day, Regulus wasted no time. He raced back to the common room and made sure everything was perfect. The boys were taking the piss out of him, but he paid no mind to them as he fluffed the pillows and draped a blanket over the couch. 

“Ooh, what type of candle is this?” Theo asked as he wrapped his grimy little fingers around the banana nut muffin scented candle. 

Regulus smacked his friend’s hand away. “Don’t touch that.” 

Mattheo snickered as he took in the scene before him. “You must really like this girl, Reg. I don’t think I’ve ever put in this much effort for a date.” 

“Yeah, and how’s that working out for you?” Regulus snipped. Blaise and Pansy snorted in response. 

Lorenzo bit back a smile. “I think it’s nice. Y/N will love it.” 

“You think so?” Regulus asked absentmindedly. He wanted to make sure everything was perfect. The dungeons were a far cry from your dorm, but Regulus did his best to emulate the comfort it provided. “It’s not too much?” 

“It’s a bit…cozy for my taste,” said Draco. Regulus fought the urge to throttle his cousin. To be fair, Draco hated anything that wasn’t French or expensive. “But I’m sure your girl will love it.” 

“She’s not my girl,” Regulus corrected. “Not yet, at least.” 

Tom shot a disinterested glance at him from the couch. “What on earth are you waiting for? You’ve been pining over her for months. Your yearning is starting to sicken me.” 

Mattheo grimaced. “I think that’s Tom’s way of encouraging you to make a move.” 

“Consider me encouraged,” Regulus said with an eye roll. “Now everyone get out.” 

As his friends filtered out, Lorenzo patted him on the back. “Good luck, mate.” 

Luck had nothing to do with it. Regulus refused to take his chances on such a finicky thing. He was far too resourceful to leave things up to chance. Instead, he compiled everything he’s learned about you to ensure that you wouldn’t feel overwhelmed. 

At exactly six o’clock on the dot, Regulus opened the door to the dungeons. He smiled when he found you standing in the corridor, fidgeting with the hem of your sunflower dress. You clutched your book to your chest as he stepped through the threshold. 

“Hi, Reg,” you greeted shyly. 

“Hi, love.” Regulus offered his arm, which you gladly took. “Come on in.” 

You weren’t sure what to expect at first, but you found the dungeons to be quite cozy. The waves from the Black Lake gently lapped against the stained glass windows, the murky waters shimmering across the onyx floors. The furnishings were all dark wood and harsh lines with pops of emerald tying everything together. The velvet couch was piled with pillows and candles illuminated the space, providing a warmth and coziness that you never would’ve attributed to the dungeons. 

“This is quite lovely,” you said softly. 

Regulus took your bag from you and set it gently on the marble side table. “I’m glad you think so.” 

“Where’s everyone else?” 

“Out,” Regulus responded. “If they’re smart, they’ll stay that way.” 

You chuckled. “I guess it pays to be mean and scary.” 

“To everyone else, yes.” Regulus said as he guided you over to the couch. “Not to you, though.”

The sentiment made you smile. “Well, big scary Reggie, thank you for inviting me over. As promised, I came bearing snacks.” 

As you laid out a treasure trove of treats, Regulus watched with an amused smile. “For Salazar’s sake, I’m getting a cavity just looking at all of this candy.” 

You grinned as you waved a sour gummy worm in the air. “But it’s good, though.” Regulus backed away from the neon colored candy with a grimace. “Come on, Reg. Try it.” 

“No, thank you.” 

“Please,” you pleaded, poking his cheek with the worm. “Just one little nibble. I know you want to.” 

“You’re a terrible influence,” he sighed defeatedly. 

Regulus leaned over, his lips brushing against your fingers as he took a small bite. You flushed furiously, heat prickling your skin as his emerald gaze pierced through you. From this close, you could make out the golden flecks swimming in his irises. 

“It’s a bit sweet,” Regulus murmured. His eyes never left yours as he held your wrist in place, devouring what was left of the sour worm. “But I’ve grown an appetite for sweet things lately.” 

Regulus licked flecks of sugar off of his lips, smirking when he caught you staring. You cleared your throat, eager to diffuse whatever tension was brewing between you. He tracked your movements as you retrieved your book and daintily perched yourself on the couch. 

“Shall we?” 

A comfortable silence befell the common room, broken only by the lulling crash of the waves against the windows. It baffled you how at ease you were in the dungeons. Usually, it took a bit of time for you to adjust to new environments, but something about this place seemed familiar. You felt safe here, thanks to the boy sitting beside you. 

As you curled up on the sofa, Regulus assumed his position. He scooted towards you, placing his head on your lap and stretching his long legs out until they touched the other end of the couch. With a smile, you peered at him as he nuzzled against your free hand. Regulus sighed in satisfaction when you ran your fingers through his curls. The action reminded you of your little Shadow. 

You had no idea how you hadn’t realized it sooner, but the two of them were similar in a lot of ways. They were both standoffish and prickly on the outside, but complete softies on the inside. The thought made you chuckle. 

“What’s so funny?” Regulus murmured. Despite the fact that the two of you were supposed to be reading, his book remained perched on his stomach while his eyes fluttered close. 

“It’s just hard to reconcile grumpy Regulus to the Regulus that practically begs for his head to be scratched.”

Regulus scoffed. “I do not beg.” 

You placed your hand back in your lap. Regulus furrowed his brows as he glanced up at you. With a soft nudge to your side and a matching pout to boot, he single handedly proved your point. “Why’d you stop?” 

The pointed look you gave him made Regulus flush. “Fine, I suppose I’m not above begging.” 

You raised a brow, which only made him sigh in defeat. Regulus lifted your hand and placed it back atop his curls. “Please?” 

“Only because you asked nicely, Reggie.” 

The rest of the evening was blissfully peaceful as the two of you continued reading. Well, you were reading. Regulus, on the other hand, hadn’t even cracked open his book. You could feel the intensity of his gaze boring into you while you pretended to be engrossed in your novel. 

“Do I have something on my face?” You asked self-consciously. 

“No.” 

“Then why are you staring?” 

Regulus sat upright and faced you, his emerald eyes locking onto yours. His expression was soft as he tucked a stray strand of hair behind your ear, knuckles brushing along your jaw. 

“Because you’re beautiful.” 

The air left your lungs as Regulus beheld you. The calluses on his thumb stroked your skin as he caressed your cheek. You shivered at his touch, at his scent, at his closeness. Regulus was like poetry come to life. A work of art that moved and breathed and mesmerized everyone around him. If anyone was beautiful, it was him. 

“Reggie…” 

The words died in your throat when Regulus brushed his thumb over your lips. “Y/N…” 

Little by little, the gap closed between you. Anticipation swelled in the room, enveloping everything with unspoken tension. You felt like a harp string pulled taut, waiting for release. Just as Regulus tilted your head back, a loud smack echoed through the dungeons. 

You nearly jumped out of your seat, but Regulus shielded you behind him, keeping you close. A stream of people made their way through the common room, trampling the once serene atmosphere. The commotion from earlier seemed to be coming from the large keg that Adrian Pucey was now rolling across the stone floor. The other Slythering began clearing the furniture, chattering excitedly amongst themselves. 

Regulus was incensed. “What the fuck is going on?” 

One by one, his friends streamed in. Blaise was the first to squeeze through the crowd. “Common room party, apparently. We ran here to warn you, but they were already rolling the kegs through the corridor before we caught up.” 

Theodore and Mattheo pushed their way through a couple of fourth years. At their complaint, the two boys glared at them so intensely that they slowly started to back away. 

“The fuck are you looking at?” Mattheo barked. 

“Are you deaf or just thick? Get fucking lost, mate,” Theo added menacingly. 

You flinched at the display of aggression. Regulus clocked the reaction and pulled you closer before frowning at his friends. Theodore elbowed Mattheo when he caught sight of you, who in turn elbowed Theodore back. 

“Sorry about that, Y/N.” Theodore drawled, his Italian accent seeping through the words. “We didn’t see you there. Usually, we’re more well-behaved in the presence of a lady.” 

“That’s a lie,” Pansy interjected. “You’re horrid around me all the time.” 

“I’ve known you since we were in diapers, Pans. You’re certainly not a lady,” Theodore quipped. 

“Why, you little twat—” 

“Guys,” Regulus scolded. 

Pansy stopped in her tracks, sighing as she put her hand down after landing a smack on the back of Theodore’s head. She offered her hand. “Right. Well, this isn’t how we thought our first introduction would go, but it’s nice to finally meet the infamous Y/N. Regulus talks about you all the time.” 

You flushed as you took Pansy’s hand. “It’s nice to meet you too, Pansy.” 

“Me next,” Theodore exclaimed. “Theodore Nott, at your service.” 

The floppy haired boy bowed cheekily before taking your hand in his and kissing your knuckles. Regulus glared daggers at his friend, but you merely giggled in amusement. 

“Move, Nott. It’s my turn now.” Mattheo smacked Theodore away and enveloped you into a hug. “Mattheo, the most handsome Riddle. Although don’t tell my brother that. He might hex me. Anyways, nice to meet you." He paused, sniffing your hair unabashedly. "Oh! Reg is right. You do smell nice.” 

“Riddle,” warned Regulus.

Mattheo only winked at you before stepping aside. You exchanged introductions with Blaise and Draco next until Lorenzo caught up with the rest of the group. He gave you a warm hug before explaining that someone had printed out posters promoting a party that none of the Slytherins had any clue about. Of course, it didn’t take much convincing on his housemates' part before they jumped on the bandwagon, hence the packed common room. 

“I’m so sorry,” Regulus said as he turned over to face you. “ I didn’t know any of this was happening.”

Worry marred his beautiful face. Though the situation was a little more than overwhelming, you didn’t want Regulus worrying on your behalf. It was touching, truly. But you could try to push through it. 

“It’s okay, Reg. I’m fine, really.” 

“We can leave,” he offered. “Find somewhere more quiet.” 

“Already?” Mattheo asked, pouting. “But we haven’t even played butterbeer pong yet! Dibs on Y/N as my partner.” 

“No fair! I was going to ask her,” Theodore said, shoving Mattheo. His curly headed friend shoved back, which only escalated into Theodore putting him into a headlock. You shook your head in amusement. 

“Sorry to disappoint, but I have no idea how to play butterbeer pong.” 

Mattheo slithered out of Theodore’s hold and beamed. “Oh, it’s easy. You just arrange a bunch of cups into a pyramid and then take turns shooting ping pong balls into them. Surely, you’ve handled balls before, right?” 

The double meaning was not lost on the group. Regulus tensed, charging up to smack Mattheo into next week for the inappropriate joke, but your response stopped him in his tracks. 

“I have,” you said softly. “Have you? Because it doesn’t seem like it from the way you kept missing the goalposts during the game last week.” 

Mattheo gaped in shock before bursting into laughter. “Oh, she’s a keeper.” 

“You’re lucky Y/N found that funny,” Regulus said to his friend. “Otherwise, I would’ve twisted your intestines into a bow for her.” 

“Taking a page out of my brother’s book, I see,” Mattheo taunted. 

“Is this a bad time to ask if you’ve ever had a body shot, Y/N?” Theo asked with feigned innocence. “If not, I’m more than willing to show you.” 

Regulus reeled back and smacked Theo on the head while the rest of the group cackled. Theo rubbed the sore spot and grumbled. “A simple no would have sufficed.” 

The more time you spent around them, the less intimidating they became. From what you gleaned, they seemed to be a tight knit group. It wasn’t at all what you expected from the Slytherins. 

“Your friends are silly,” you whispered to Regulus as the group migrated to the couch. 

In the background, Mattheo and Theodore bickered over who drank the last of the firewhisky while Lorenzo wiped the back of his mouth and burped. He winked when he caught your eye, charging you with keeping his secret. 

“They’re idiots,” Regulus scoffed. His tone was contrasted by the softness in his eyes as he watched his friends muck about. “But they’re family.” 

Throughout the night, you didn’t miss the way that Regulus fussed over you. He was a constant presence by your side, attuned and attentive to every need. When you felt parched, Regulus was there to offer you a drink. When you felt cold, Regulus draped his jacket over you without you needing to ask. He checked in with you often, making sure his obnoxious friends weren’t offending you and ensuring that the attention wasn’t too overwhelming to handle. 

You assured him that you were fine. In fact, you were surprised to realize that you were enjoying yourself. It was a lot easier to deal with your social anxiety when you had someone there to ground you. 

The Slytherins were a rather social bunch. Pansy was thrilled at the prospect of having another girl join the group. Within thirty minutes, she had talked you into going to Hogsmeade with her next weekend. She wanted a break from the boys, she said. But she also made it known that she expected a full rundown of the situation between you and Regulus. 

Draco and Blaise were very clearly eavesdropping, despite their efforts to appear nonchalant. Apparently, everyone was as invested in your pairing as Pansy was. Theodore and Mattheo didn’t even try to hide the fact that they were talking Regulus up. When Mattheo declared that Regulus rescued an injured baby bird and nursed it back to health, you nearly lost it. Regulus hated birds. 

“You’re an idiot,” Regulus exclaimed. 

“No, let him talk. I want to hear all about it. What kind of bird was it, Mattheo?” 

“Uh…the kind with wings?” 

Lorenzo shook his head. “Really, mate? That’s the best you could come up with?” 

The group continued their bantering as you watched in fascination. Their dynamic fascinated you. They bickered like siblings, but you could tell that they would go to the end of the world for one another. You could see why Regulus thought of them as family. 

“Feeling okay?” Regulus asked, nudging you with his hip. 

“Mhm,” you responded, bumping him back. “Thanks for inviting me over.” 

“This isn’t what I had in mind when I did,” Regulus said. “But I’m still glad you came.”

“Of course, I had to see you in your natural habitat. I didn’t know you were such a party animal, Reggie.” 

He grabbed hold of your waist and leaned down to whisper in your ear. “I preferred when the party was just you and me.” 

You flushed, pitching forward to hide your face behind a curtain of hair. “I did, too.” 

“When everyone leaves, I intend on picking up where we left off. You should know that I’m not the type of man who leaves things unfinished, love.” 

There was no hiding the blush that blossomed on your cheeks. Crimson colored your features even as you excused yourself to the bathroom. As you washed your hands in the sink, you studied your reflection. While you would always feel the lingering social anxiety that came from being in large crowds, you thought that tonight was going fairly well. With a smile, you made your return back to the Regulus. 

“I don’t know who you’re fooling, Y/N.” Britt sneered at you as she leaned against the wall, a cigarette held haphazardly between her neon painted fingers. 

You frowned. “What are you talking about, Britt?” 

“Regulus may have fallen for your shy and sweet little act, but he’ll get sick and tired of you dragging him down sooner or later.” 

A lump formed in the pit of your stomach. Though it was no secret that Britt wasn’t exactly a fan of yours, you hadn’t expected her to say such hurtful things. Even worse, she touched a nerve with her words. 

Britt nodded pointedly towards the crowd. “Look at him. He can’t even enjoy himself without worrying about poor, helpless little Y/N.”

Regulus towered over everyone, cutting an imposing figure in the middle of the room. His eyes darted through the crowd, seemingly searching for someone. Perhaps it was the reality of seeing the worry in his features, his half-distracted responses to whatever Lorenzo was saying as he stood stoic, unable to partake in conversation because he was too busy looking for you. Worrying about you. However horrid Britt was, you realized that there was merit to her words. 

The last thing you wanted was to hold Regulus back. You didn’t want him worrying about babysitting you instead of having fun with his friends, which is exactly what he was doing now. The thought made you sad. Sure, Regulus was fine with catering to your needs now, but he was bound to tire of it sooner or later. You didn’t want to find out how long it would take. 

You didn’t want to be a burden to anyone. Most of all, Regulus. 

Without a word, you passed by Britt and weaved your way through the room. You stuck to the alcoves, passing beneath its shadowy refuge until the door came to view. Only a few steps stood between you and your escape when a low, stern voice stopped you in your tracks. 

“Y/N,” said Tom Riddle. “Leaving early, are we?” 

“Oh, hi there Tom,” you mumbled, casting your gaze towards the floor. You were afraid that you’d cry if you stayed in the dungeons a second longer. “M’just not feeling very well.” 

You could feel his observant gaze sweeping over you. “I imagined you wouldn’t after encountering that hag outside of the bathroom.” 

“You saw that?” You asked in a small, defeated voice. 

Finally, you deigned to look up and found Tom staring at you. As always, the eldest Riddle was cold and stoic, but there was something in his gaze that conveyed concern. 

“Yes, and I heard it too.” 

“Please, can you—can you just not tell Reggie?” 

Tom’s expression was imperceptible besides his curt nod. “If that’s what you prefer. I’ll let him know you left early because you weren’t feeling well.” 

“Thank you, Tom.” 

You bid him a good night before reaching for the door. Behind you, Tom cleared his throat. 

“For the record, that hag doesn’t know what she’s talking about. You’re not dragging Regulus down. If anything, you’ve made the twat more tolerable over these past few weeks.” 

Before you could respond, Tom was gone. You barely caught a glimpse of his back as he climbed the stairs that led to the dormitories. The parting surprised you, but you figured that Tom probably just felt bad for witnessing the conversation between you and Britt. 

Casting a last glance towards the common room, you spotted Regulus once again. 

Softly, you whispered, “Bye, Reggie.” 

Once you were back in your dorm, you showered and decided to turn in for the night. It was just a few minutes shy of midnight as you tossed and turned in bed. Your roommate was most likely still at the party, leaving you to ponder your thoughts alone. There was an air of restlessness in the room as you stared up at the ceiling and considered your predicament. 

No matter which way you looked at it, there was only one solution. You had to end your friendship with Regulus. 

The thought filled you with overwhelming sadness. Letting go of Regulus made you feel so isolated and alone, but you knew it was the right thing to do. As though sensing your need for comfort, Shadow slinked through your door and hopped right into your lap. The black cat stared up at you with knowing eyes and meowed. 

“At least I can count on you to always keep me company,” you murmured softly as you scratched under Shadow’s chin. “It’s been a rough night.” 

Shadow bumped his head against your hip, seemingly telling you to stop feeling sorry for yourself. 

“Britt is right, Shadow,” you confessed. “I’m just not the type of girl Regulus should be with.” 

The cat bumped you again, stomping his feet on the bed in frustration. Shadow gave you a rather argumentative meow. 

“Oh, don’t give me that. We both know it’s true. Reggie is Reggie and I’m…well, I’m me.” 

Shadow hissed in response, demanding your attention. You sighed as you pulled the cat into your lap. “It’s a shame,” you whispered against his dark fur. “I really like him.” 

To your surprise, Shadow purred softly and cuddled against your side. Though the feral little cat had taken a liking to you and your dorm, Shadow was always usually gone in the morning. Tonight though, the cat curled up next to you as though it knew that this was what you needed. 

“Good night, Shadow.” 

Regulus knew it was reckless. 

But after Tom informed him of your sudden illness, suspicion rose in him like a tide. Even if you weren’t feeling well, it wasn’t like you to leave so abruptly, which meant that something was definitely wrong. All of his suspicions were confirmed when he got to your dorm.

It broke his heart to hear you say that you weren’t right for him. How could such a thought even cross your mind? There had never been anyone more perfect to him than you. Didn’t you know that you were the first person Regulus looked for in a room full of people? Couldn’t you tell how head over heels he was for you? His sweet, sassy, shy, sunshine of a Hufflepuff. There was no one better. 

Certainly not Britt. Regulus was well aware of the crush she had on him. At first, he simply ignored it. He had absolutely no interest in someone as foul and loathsome as that girl, but now that she had come after you, Regulus had half a mind to sink his teeth and claws into her ankles until he drew blood. 

At the moment, his plot for revenge was set aside as he focused on comforting you. Up until this point, Regulus had always been careful not to fall asleep in your dorm because he never knew when he was going to switch back, but tonight, he was willing to risk it. He didn’t know if this would be the last time you ever spoke to him given what you confessed earlier. 

Perhaps it was selfish of him, but he didn’t want the night to end. Regulus wasn't ready to face the prospect of you ending things, so he snuggled into your side and fell asleep to the sound of your heartbeat. 

It was a choice that would certainly have its consequences in the morning.

The first thing that woke him up was not the sunlight streaming through your windows or the chirping of the birds, but instead your surprised yelp. Regulus blinked sleepily, rubbing his paw against his snout, but instead bumped his hand into his nose. 

This was not good. 

This was definitely not good. 

You were on the other side of the bed, blankets pulled up over your chin as you stared at him in disbelief. 

“Reggie? What—what are you doing here?” 

Regulus was an idiot. A stupid, careless idiot. 

But none of that mattered now. 

“Don’t end our friendship.” 

You reeled back in surprise. “I—what—what’s even happening—”

“Don’t end our friendship,” Regulus said once more. “Fuck, it’s not even a friendship. You and I both know it’s so much more than that.” 

“I don’t understand.” 

“I’m not going to get bored of you. Never in a million years would I ever get bored of you. In the months that I’ve gotten to know you, not once have I ever stopped feeling drawn in. I want to know everything about you, Y/N. Even though you tell me everything without realizing it, I still want to know more. I want to listen to you talk about your books and hold your hand when you’re overwhelmed and follow you all around the castle like I’ve been doing all along.” 

You were speechless as Regulus continued. “Tom told me that you weren’t feeling well last night. I knew it was a lie, so I had to come and see for myself. I had to make sure you were okay, even if you didn’t know it was me.” He sighed, closing his eyes. “But then you said you wanted to end our friendship and I just—I was selfish. I should’ve gone back to my dorm, but I didn’t know if last night was the last time you’d ever speak to me and I just couldn’t bring myself to leave.” 

Realization dawned over you. Pieces of the puzzle started clicking into place. “You’re—you—you’ve been Shadow this whole time?” 

Regulus nodded guiltily. “I understand if you’re angry with me, but please know that I didn’t mean for any of this to happen. I found your dorm by accident that first night and I don’t know. I just kept coming back. You just kept drawing me back.” 

He bowed his head and ran a hand through his curls. “I realize you might hate me after this, but you have been the best part of my day since I accidentally stumbled into your dorm and I think—no, I know that I’ve fallen for you.” 

You blinked in disbelief, still processing his confession. “So you’ve been…you this whole time? You knew everything I’ve ever said to Shadow. You listened to me vent and rant, thinking I was just talking to a cat.” You paused as something niggled at your brain. “When we first ran into each other at the bookstore, did you already know I was going to be there?” 

Regulus didn't deny it. “I did. I also already read all of the books on your shelves in advance on the off chance that you might mention it in class. I didn't really need help in charms, that was just an excuse to spend more time with you and I...I bought the same candles and blankets you like so you'd be comfortable in the common room. I learned all of that by listening to you, by spying on you, and I'm sorry. I’m so fucking sorry —" 

His apology was cut short as you surged forward to kiss him. Regulus was stunned for a moment as your lips met, but it didn’t take long for him to reciprocate. One arm slid around your waist to pull you closer while the other cradled your cheek. His kisses were hungry, like he was a man awaiting the gallows and you were his final meal. It was full of passion, the longing and yearning evident as he gorged himself on the taste of you. 

Coming up for air, Regulus finally opened his pretty emerald eyes and looked at you. His gaze pierced through your skin, raw and vulnerable. “You’re not mad at me?” 

“Are you kidding? That’s the sweetest thing anyone’s ever done for me.” Regulus sighed in relief, pressing his forehead against yours. “Plus, how can I be mad when you make such a cute little kitty?” 

Regulus laughed, the sweet, melodious sound filling the room. You brushed his curls back and grinned. “For the record, I’ve fallen for you too.” 

“That’s a relief. My friends have been pestering me on finally making a move for months. Pansy cornered me last night and lectured me on asking you to be my girlfriend before you realize that you’re too good for me.” 

“I think I like Pansy.” 

“Don’t tell her that,” Regulus groaned. “She’ll definitely try to steal you away from me.” 

“I don’t think you’ll have any trouble with that.” 

“Good, I don’t want Parkinson getting any ideas about running off with my girlfriend.” 

You raised a brow. “Oh, I’m your girlfriend now?” 

“Girlfriend. Love of my life. Apple of my eye. Take your pick, mon cœur.” 

“I’ll take all of the above, boyfriend.” 

Later that morning, after much cuddling and kissing, you and Regulus finally decided to head to the Great Hall for breakfast. You smiled as he held your hand, bumping your hip as the two of you walked through the corridors. It was strange how at ease you felt. You were vaguely aware of the eyes that trailed your every move, but they quickly blended into the background when Regulus pulled you close and kissed your cheek. 

Luna and Ginny perked up at the sight of you, surprise marring their faces when they spotted Regulus at your side. Their eyebrows raised to the skies, pointedly staring at your linked fingers. 

Later, you mouthed. You had a hell of a lot of explaining to do, but your friends merely smiled and nodded. 

“Finally,” Pansy announced exasperatedly. She patted the seat next to her as you shyly slipped in. “I was beginning to think that we’d have to scheme to get the two of you together.” 

“No need,” you said with a smile. “I think we took care of that on our own.” 

Regulus smiled and nuzzled against your shoulder. The boys flashed him shit-eating grins, but he didn’t seem to notice. “Stop scaring my girlfriend away, Pans.” 

“Oh, is it girlfriend now? It’s about time. I’ve only listened to you pine and yearn for months.” 

“Excuse her,” Blaise said. “She’s just happy to have another girl in the group.” 

“Damn right I am. I’m tired of spending so much time with you heathens.” Pansy patted your shoulder. “I hope you’re in the market for new friends, because you’re not getting rid of me now. My first act of friendship will be to determine whether or not to hex that little trollop for glaring at you. Do you know that girl, Y/N?” 

You turned and found Britt frowning at you with her arms crossed. “It’s alright, Pansy. She’s not worth it.” 

At the same moment, Tom sauntered through the aisles. Once he reached Britt, he cut her a glare that would paralyze a basilisk. She cowered back and made a hasty retreat. 

Tom merely continued walking before taking a seat next to Mattheo. “So, that hag, “ he says in a no-nonsense tone. “Would you like me to take care of her?” 

You glanced at the group in concern. “What exactly does taking care of her mean?” 

Mattheo’s curly head popped up from his plate. “Oh, he means he’ll feed her to his snake.” 

You laughed at the jest, but Tom remained stone-faced. He was obviously just kidding. Right?

“He’s dead serious,” Theo added. “I’ve seen him do it before.” 

With a gulp, you turned back to Tom. “That won’t be necessary, Tom. Please don’t feed Britt to your snake.” 

Tom shrugged as though you were discussing the weather. “Suit yourself.” 

When everyone returned to their morning banter, you turned to Regulus. “What have I gotten myself into?” 

Regulus smiled and pecked your lips. “You know, I considered clawing her ankles off, but I think Tom’s way will be much quicker.” 

“Regulus Black.” You scolded, though it wasn’t entirely convincing given the grin you were biting back. 

“It’s Reggie to you, love.” You stared at him pointedly, which only made him sigh dramatically. “Fine, Tom’s snake will not have a new snack, but only because I have a saint for a girlfriend.” 

“And I have a devious little sinner for a boyfriend.” 

Regulus smirked. “I’ll make sure to worship at your altar for penance.” 

You rolled your eyes, but couldn’t help but blush as Regulus laid his head down on your shoulder once more. You ran your fingers through his curls, smiling to yourself when he let out a satisfied hum that sounded awfully close to a purr. 

[aggieslittlebunny]

PLEASE TALK TO ME

MEN/MINORS DNI!!!

Pairing: University Student!Reader x Older!gf!Wanda

Summary: Reader’s life has always been hard, but as of late, it seems to be extremely harder for you. Your girlfriend, Wanda, is always ready to support you, but you push her away as your condition is getting worse and things escalate.

Trigger Warnings/Tags: angst, hurt/comfort, contain heavy/sensitive topic, mental illness, depressed reader, anxious reader, negative self-talk, self-harm, suicide attempt, suffering reader, reader have suspicion of being an ADHDer (but doesn’t get diagnosed). You have been warned, so don’t read this fic if there is a chance that you might get triggered, no matter how small the chance is. Please never hesitate to reach out to someone close to you or any professional help if you’re struggling mentally. You matter <3

Author Note: English is not my first language, so I apologize in advance for any gramatical and spelling errors ^^

Word Count: 3.5k

Life has been hard for you lately, much harder than usual. You can’t exactly tell since when this has happened and the reasons behind it. Being a university student has always been a challenge. To be completely honest, despite getting A- for most of the courses you had, you always feel like you barely survived. Other students appear to be able to understand whatever topic the professors deliver right away. Besides that, it seems very easy for them to raise their hands and ask questions. Meanwhile, you? You can barely sit through three and a half hours of each lecture, let alone be focused throughout the whole thing. Being glued to the classroom chair for that long feels so horrible. Oftentimes, you think of excusing yourself to the restroom, but you are way too anxious to do that. All you can do is shift yourself in your seat every once in a while, but you can’t do that too much either because then people will notice how fidgety you are. You will attract unwanted attention.

Speaking of unwanted attention and being anxious, those are why it’s hard for you to ask questions during lectures. You don’t like having people’s eyes on you. You also keep asking yourself “what if my question is strange?” or “what if my question doesn’t make sense?” right after your brain makes a question, which gets you stuck in your head and prevents you from being an active student. That doesn’t mean you never ask questions. You pushed yourself to do that sometimes. You need to keep up with other students after all. But you truly despise it. You don’t like the feeling of your hands becoming clammy and how your heart beats very fast, making you breathe heavily.

Before you ask a question, you need to come up with one. That is also a problem for you since you believe that you have a short attention span. Your brain loves to wander, even when all you want to do is focus. You can pay attention to the professors’ voice and write down the important information you want to keep, but before you realize it, your train of thoughts are somewhere else and your hand has already stopped writing minutes ago. You have a lot of questions in your head, but you are afraid that they actually have been discussed and you just weren’t paying attention. You believe that you will look or sound ridiculous.

Your older girlfriend, Wanda, is aware of your struggles, but you haven't told her everything. You just let her know some bits without much detail. She is the most supportive girlfriend you have ever had. Well, she is your first girlfriend so that statement can’t be wrong. Seriously though, she is very supportive and sweet to you. You love her so much and will do anything to make her stay, even if that means hiding most of your problems and keeping your negative feelings bottled up.

You have been doing such a good job hiding how you feel in front of Wanda— and everyone. Thinking of people worried about you filled you with guilt, so you tend to just put on a happy or at least neutral look on your face. These past few weeks, your mask slowly cracks. Wanda started to notice the empty look in your eyes (no matter what expression you are making), the bag under your eyes, the forced cheerful tone escaping your lips, how you space out more frequently, how you seem to avoid people including her, and other behavior changes from you. Everytime she asks how you are doing, you will simply tell her that you’re fine, maybe a little tired. She knows you are not, but she doesn’t want to put pressure onto you and keep praying that you will open up soon. She keeps waiting and waiting. A couple of months passed and you seem to be getting worse. This makes her persuade you harder to tell her what is going on, but no matter how hard she tries, you never tell her the truth. You keep denying her that you are behaving really off and telling her that she is just overthinking.

“Sweetheart, you know that you can talk to me about anything at any time, right?” Wanda randomly blurts. Both of you are currently sitting on a bench in a park, eating ice cream while watching people minding their own business.

“Mmhm.”  you replied shortly with a faint positive tone. You can feel her gaze pointed at you, but you decide to keep your eyes watching a little girl laughing with her parents as they play catch with their dog.

“I’m sorry to keep bringing this up. I can’t help but be worried about you, baby. The more time passes, the more I notice how you seem to not be doing well. You don’t need to pretend that you’re okay in front of me. I want you to rely on me. I might not be able to solve all of your problems, but I will always be with you. We can face this together if you let me. You’re not alone. Please tell me what is going on.” one of her hands reaches yours. You look at Wanda the moment she holds your hand.

“I’m alright, seriously. Maybe I'm just a little bit tired. The finals week is getting near and I need to be ready for that. I don’t want to fall behind. Thank you for caring about me, but can we not talk about this right now? Maybe we can talk about it later, just… not now.”

“Okay, baby. I understand. Do you want to grab some lunch after this?”

A day after that, you suddenly stopped meeting Wanda. Most calls from her are ignored by you. The ones you picked up never last longer than five minutes. You told her that you need to focus on your study, but Wanda doubts that. She knows from one of your friends that you have been skipping a bunch of lectures. She considered visiting you in your dorm, but you always refused whenever she asked for your permission. You gave her a hard no right away, every single time, no consideration. She tries to respect your decision, but it is getting harder each day for her, and unbeknownst to her, for you either. You are getting worse and it is actually out of her expectation and imagination.

Now it has been three weeks since you stopped meeting Wanda. She always waits for any message from you that appears to be sent to her less and less as the days pass. Today she hasn’t received any. She is beyond worried, but she also knows that you are having finals this week. The semester ends soon and she hopes she will be able to hang out with you again since you will have lots of free time for a month. She gave you some space since she thought that is what you need. She tries to act chill about it, but each buzz coming from her phone never fails to make her jolt. She will check her phone right away and gets disappointed when she doesn’t see your name (or ‘my baby’ since she set your contact as that) on her notifications.

She heard from you on Friday. It is almost midnight, but she can’t sleep unless she does her daily reading before bed. Therefore, there she is. She is sitting comfortably in her bed, her back against the headboard, and there is an open book in her hand. It was peaceful until her phone buzzed. When she takes a glance at her phone, she swiftly picks it up and opens a message from you. You sent her a link. That link leads her to a letter written by you. Her eyes scan each word carefully. You are thanking her for being a wonderful girlfriend. As Wanda keeps reading, she hopes that you are just giving her a sweet letter of appreciation. Deep inside, she fears that you are breaking up with her, but she tries not to judge quickly since it is a pretty lengthy letter and she barely reaches the quarter part of it.

“When you are reading this, I have done something stupid.”

Wanda freezes for a solid ten seconds. After that, she stands up and runs to her car. She forgets her car keys so she sprints back in to grab it and then she leaves her house with her car. She left her house unlocked and she is still wearing her pajamas, but those are none of her concern right now. Her head chanting your name as well as prayers that you are safe. As she drives, she continues reading your letter. Her eyes moved from her screen to the road repeatedly until she finished reading it. After that she completely focuses on the road and might have crossed the speed limit several times. She reached your dorm room in twenty minutes, thanks to one of your close friends that is still awake and messaged her the number of your room.

She expected that she would have to break the door open, but she was wrong. The door isn’t locked. She knows right away that it was left like that by you on purpose. You told her so many times that you always lock your door twice because you’re afraid of the possibility that a stranger can get into your room easily. The sound of her footsteps echoes in your room. Your room is dark, but there is light from the sideroad lamp slipping through your window. She saw the lump of your body covered with your favorite blanket in your bed and she approached you in a hurry. She cradles your face in her palms. She noticed your irregular breathing and that you are breathing through your mouth. She also quickly noticed that there is a kind of chemical smell coming out from your mouth. Her hand reached the phone in her pocket and she dialed the emergency number, asking for an ambulance. It will take around ten minutes for it to arrive.

Just when she is about to wake you up, she accidentally knocks over a mug on your bedside table. It is now on the ground and the liquid inside it seeps into the rug. At first she thought it was tea, but after a quick sniff into the air, she realized that it is not tea or at least not just tea. The smell is exactly the same as what is coming out from your mouth. She checked the water bottle that was sitting beside the mug. She remembers how you brought the bottle with you all the time. It has such a bold pink color and there is a picture of a rabbit saying ‘life is beautiful’ on it. She opens the bottle and at first glance it looks like it’s filled with normal water, but the somewhat gray look as well as the strong chemical scent said otherwise. Shortly after that, her eyes spot a little trash can near the bed. She noticed some tissues covered with blood as well as an empty bug spray can.

“Shit.” she thought.

“Baby? Baby, wake up. Please. Can you hear me?” Wanda tries to wake you up with panic in her voice. She pulls your blanket away to take a look at your arms and wrists. She found nothing. But a second later she saw some dried blood prints on your shorts, the left thigh part to be exact. After that, she taps your cheek and shakes your body firmly which elicits a groan from you.

“I’m sorry, Wanda. I’m so sorry. Please don’t be mad at me.” You replied faintly. It is clear that you are slipping in and out of consciousness.

“Shh, you will be okay. There is nothing to be sorry for; I’m not mad at you. I love you very much. Please don’t go back to sleep. Stay with me, sweetie. I’ll get you to the hospital. The ambulance is coming.”

The paramedic comes soon after that and you are brought to the hospital. The emergency room is very cold and quiet. Maybe not that quiet since you hear people’s voices, but everything is so faint and blurry to you. After you get treated, Wanda is allowed to see you. She sees you smiling a little and she smiles back as she walks closer towards you.

You start telling her what has been happening in your life. Wanda sits on the hospital bed that you occupied, holding your hand as she hears your story. You tell her that you always feel so different throughout your life. You always feel like you are always in a race to keep up with other people around you. It gets harder and harder, especially with the fact that you’re a student in a top university. You tell her that since you get into university, your life is way messier than before. Keeping up with other students almost feels impossible. You try and try and try, but it is never enough. You are never satisfied and you feel like you are the most stupid student compared to other students in the same year as you.

Your grades might say different things, but there are endless efforts to get those grades. You are a procrastinator, but it is not because you don’t want to do your responsibility. Most of the time, you just can’t. Your body and brain won’t function the way you want them to and you despise that part of yourself because that makes you feel lazy. But you also barely get any sleep to finish your assignments, prepare your part in group assignments, and sometimes you cover your friend’s part or any extra part. That caused you to sleep like three hours a day. Some days four, the other days two, and this rarely happens but you can go two or three days without sleep. You have been living with this terrible sleep schedule for three years now. All you want is to be like other students. You’re scared of falling behind. You know you will not survive by yourself so you want your classmates to be able to rely on you on group projects. You want as many classmates as possible to like you. 

“I’m so tired, Wanda. I’m exhausted.” You sighed painfully.

You proceed to tell her how your head was slowly becoming evil to you. It’s never peaceful in your head. Different things are piling up inside it. They’re messy piles and your brain seems to insist on unpacking them all at the same time. You can feel the chaos within your body and mind. The chaos streaming in your blood makes you want to curl up and disappear. Then it’s getting worse. Your brain started telling you various negative things:

“No one likes you.”

“Your friends hate you. They talk about you behind your back”

“You’re a terrible person.”

You began to believe those things. Watching your friends surrounding a table in the cafeteria leads you to think that they were talking shitty stuff about you. Especially after a friend of yours noticed that you were crying in front of the class but said nothing. After that, you started to spend lots of time hiding in the restroom stall to cry, usually before class. You were terrified by people around you and your own brain. Then you seek out some help. You reached out to a counselor provided by your university. You confessed to her about the problems you have been having as of late, and talking helps, but not much. Your brain is still very mean to you. At some point you really want to know what is going on with you. You desperately want an explanation on why you feel so different compared to others since you were a little kid. You dived into the internet, researching stuff based on your struggles. You are very sure that you’re suffering from depression, maybe even anxiety. But you believe that there is something more. After weeks of researching, you have a suspicion that you might have ADHD. You read some books, watched lots of videos, and asked some of your online friends who are ADHDer. 

“I can never be sure until I get a proper diagnosis and I can’t get a diagnosis from a counselor. But if my counselor can at least agree with my suspicion, I assume it will be easier for me to get actual diagnosis. Therefore I talked about it with her, my counselor. I didn’t explicitly say to her that I think I might have ADHD. Instead, I tell her my life experiences that relate to the symptoms. At one point she cut my story.”

“Aren’t you just lazy?” the words your counselor threw at you echo in your brain.

“Am I just lazy, Wanda? Please tell me it’s not true. I’m trying. I always try! Please believe me! I-”

Wanda instantly cups your face in her hands and rests her forehead against yours.

“Breathe, sweetie. Deep breath. I’m with you. You’re not lazy. Not at all. You have been trying your best. I know it, baby.”

“It’s so painful! It feels like she throws away my self-image I’ve been building all my life. The sleepless nights… The notes covering my dorm walls…” you take a sharp breath and continue, “Even as a kid, my parents pushed me so hard to study. In elementary school, they will make me study until midnight during test weeks. In middle school I fell behind, but managed to push myself so that I could get into a good highschool. I push myself all the time to keep up with everybody else. Maybe I also do it so my parents will keep loving me. To them, my grades define who I am. They expect so much from me. It hurts…” you cry at the last two words and Wanda embraces you in a warm hug.

“The day when my counselor said that, I walked back to my dorm room with tears streaming down my face. I sobbed as I walked, maybe some strangers saw me in that state, but I was in too much agony to care. I stopped seeking out help from anyone. I just want to know why I am the way I am. But I can’t stand it anymore. I can’t stand feeling so different than anyone else. I also throw that suspicion away. I can’t face it since then.” you pushed Wanda away gently to look at her face. You can see tenderness in her eyes. How can you be so lucky to have her?

“I guess that pushed me further to this point. I didn’t get any help. I pushed myself even harder. I carried way much more stuff than I can handle. Last week, I constantly had my nose bleeding. That keeps going for like five days. I hurt myself too several times. It’s like I’m literally sacrificing my blood, sweat, and tears to survive. Then my head started telling me harmful stuff and questioning my worth of living.”

“Why are you still trying?”

“Why are you here?”

“Why don’t you just kill yourself?”

“You should just kill yourself.”

“You should kill your family members too. They are in danger and you need to end their lives to save them.”

“I’m terrified, Wanda! I’m scared! I’m scared of myself so much. You have no idea. That’s why I ended up here. I thought this was the only way to fix this. I’m so sorry…”

“Baby…” a tear runs down Wanda’s cheek and she leaves a kiss on top of your head before speaking up again, “Thank you for telling me this, sweetheart. I know there is still so much left unsaid and I know you’re telling me as much as you can at this moment. Thank you for trusting me with this. I’m not mad at you. I’m not angry. I’m not disappointed. But may I know why you kept telling me that you’re fine on those days?”

“I’m afraid that I will become a burden and you will think that I’m too much and…”

“I will leave you?” you nod.

“I'm sorry, Wanda. I truly am sorry.”

“Stop that, baby. It’s fine now. You will get proper help after this and I will always support you. I’m not going anywhere. Let’s take it slow, yeah?” you nod once again and pull her into a tight hug.

“Thank you.”

Wanda’s hand begins to stroke your hair lovingly, “Please never hesitate to tell me anything in the future. You can stay at my place when your head is being very mean to you. In fact you can stay at my place anytime. I won’t mind seeing your little cute face every morning, I would love that. We can work on your sleep schedule together and maybe find a study method that suits you. I know it’s not easy and you’ve been struggling very hard by yourself, but you don’t have to do that anymore. You don’t have to be by yourself. You have me. I got you, sweetheart.”

“What did I do to deserve you, Wands?”

“You don’t need to do anything to be loved by me. I love you, more than you know.”

“I love you too. I love you to the moon and back.”

[iamyourdailydoseofbi]

LIKE REAL PEOPLE DO. ( HOTD x READER ) [ Pt. 2 ]

AUTHOR NOTE! Thanks for all the love. <3 pairing: King Aegon ii Targaryen x Niece! Targ! ( Strong ) Reader suggest song to listen to whilst reading: Like Real People Do by Hozier or Never Love an Anchor by The Crane Wives prompt : would you make a part 2 for "like real people do" where after the fight reader gets really depressed and gives up trying to talk to him so he finally realizes his mistakes and tries to be a better person for her. she's still weary of him so doesn't really speak to him outside of formalities which frustrates him. but during that period aemond tries to make a move on her but he's a really good friend and makes her feel wanted and loved so when aegon watches them dance during a feast he kinda snaps and they finally argue talk their feelings out with them making up by the end and maybe if smut if you want to write it??? thank you! word count: 1, 000+ words

You listened to him a little too well, like a loyal pup listening to its Master. You avoided him like he was the Stranger himself. Your once soft glances. The subtle smiles whenever you looked at him. The way your fingers would brush against his. The way you would tend to him. The way you would set out his clothes after a night out in Flea Bottom. 

Everything that you had done for him. It was all over and done. He had ruined it all with his pathetic temper tantrum. He regretted it. He fucking regretted it all as days turned into a fortnight. A fortnight was dragging into a full moon. And he was starting to crave having you around once again. He craved you more than he craved wine. You were now a ghost in his life. Passing by, unseen and unheard. 

He was sure that soon enough you would come back to him. You'd snap out of this little daze. You'd come back to him. You'd coddle him, just like you used to. Everything, everything, everything would be alright. You'd be back and this would be nothing more than a small fight in the past.

Watching you and Aemond dance together, Aemond was so gentle with you, his hands and gaze never strayed into another inappropriate. Aemond was a true gentleman, he would never dare to dishonor you. He always treated you with such respect and kindness. Brushing it off as nothing more than a cordial dance between a brother and sister-in-law, Aegon takes a sip of his wine, turning his back to the two of you. 

Hearing soft laughter come from behind him, he snaps his head back towards you too in an instant, eyes sharp. He did not care. In the weeks of your avoidance, he was fine! He was fucking fine! But, why the fuck did you look so happy with him? You looked happy with Aemond, of all people. You looked really happy with Aemond. Happier than he had ever made you in the years of your marriage together. 

“They look happy together.” Helaena smiles, “Do they not, Aegon?”

“They do.” He grumbles, scowling deeply. 

“I am happy to see her so happy once again.” Helaena nods mindlessly, “She was so upset before.”

“She was?” He raises a brow. 

“Yes, she was. Aemond though, he was very kind to her. They spoke a lot. She has been smiling since she had spoken to him. Tis’ good.” Helaena smiles, unaware of her words.

Narrowing his eyes at the sight of you and Aemond dancing, he shifts in his seat, tightening his grip on his chalice. He wasn’t upset. He wasn’t fuckign upset in the slightest. Why the fuck would anyone get upset at such news like this? He wasn’t. He wasn’t. 

“What of?” He asks, masking his displeasure. 

“Dragon’s.” Helaena smiles, “Other things. But, most of dragon’s.”

“Dragon’s?” 

“Mm-hmm, she has always had an interest in dragon’s. Specifically Vhagar.” Helaena shakes her head, “She thinks that Dragons and their riders can share memories of Old should their bond be so tightly intertwined.” 

“Well that’s stupid.”

“I do not think so. If dragon dreams are true, tis’ no surprise if such a thought could be true.” Helaena argues, “If you spoke to her, you would know of this.”

Clenching his jaw tightly at Helaena’s subtle jab, he trails his eyes back onto you, seeing just how happy you looked with Aemond. His heart clenched tightly. It should be him in Aemond’s place. He should be the one getting you so happy and comfortable. He should be the one listening to the stupid thoughts. Not Aemond. Chugging all of the wine in his chalice, he slams the chalice down hard on the table, standing up from his seat. 

No. Nope. Not a chance. Not a fucking chance. Aemond would not take his place. He could not, no he would not be replaced by his younger brother. You were his wife. You were supposed to be his little pest. You were supposed to be his. Running a hand through his hair, he stalks towards the two of you, keeping a calm facade for your sake. He would win you back. If he could seduce whores in Flea Bottom, he could seduce you back. 

“If you do not mind, I would like to have my wife back, dear brother.” He cuts in, his voice smooth with a hint of iciness.

“Oh..” You murmur, the smile on your face dying in an instant. 

“If the Lady wishes, then I shall end our dance.” Aemond glares at him, “After all, she may be tired of dancing.”

“She is my wife.”

“Yes, she is. But, we’ve been dancing for so long.” Aemond argues, “Mayhaps, you should ask her if she wishes to keep dancing or if she would like some wine.”

Seeing the subtle glare his brother gave him, he puffs his chest up in defense, attempting to intimidate him. He was the King and your husband. He had every right to be around you and ask you for a dance. Narrowing his eyes hard at him, Aemond motions to you with his eye, trying to make him understand. What the fuck was he trying to say? Clenching his jaw in confusion, it suddenly clicks in his head what Aemond was suggesting. A way for him to speak to you. Aemond was not attempting to steal you

“Um, Y/n, would you like to dance with me?” 

“Oh, um, no thank you.” You softly shake your head, “I have had my fill of dancing.”

“Then, may I suggest you join me at our table for some wine and fresh air?” He offers again, attempting to find some middle ground with you. 

As tempted as he was to sling you over his shoulder, he knew that it would only worsen the distance between the two of you, and maybe earn him a hard punch to the nose from Aemond. He had to be smart. He had to be the complete and utter opposite of himself. Looking at you a little hopeful, he holds his hand out for you to take, praying that you would at least grant him that. 

“I thought you wished for me to leave you be?” You murmur, “Twas’ hard to not understand that when you were shouting at me.”

“Mayhaps, I was wrong.” He gulps, suddenly feeling nervous. 

“But, you said to me⎯” 

“I want to be alone, but alone with you.” He stutters, “Um, that is if you will allow it to me.”

Cowering slightly as you stare him down, he retracts his hand, now aware of Aemond’s lack of presence. It was just you and him. Though, it was not a comforting thought. Clasping his hands behind his back, he slowly looks you over, eyes trailing down your gown.

It was purple with pearls sewing into the skirt. You always wore green to match with him. His gut churns painful, now aware of just how much distance had brewed in the weeks apart. You used to be so intertwined with him. 

“I do not wish to be around you any longer. Tis’ clear my presence is a bother.” You argue, staring him down like he was your prey. 

“No, I do not wish for that any longer.” He mumbles, like a petulant child.

“You do not?” 

“I do not. I wish for us to act like real people do. To not be like how we once were.” He explains, “I wish to change. For there to be no distance.”

“Bold words do not move me, Aegon. Tis’ actions that do.”

Nodding his head in agreement at your words, he knew that he had royal fucked up. Hell, even his own dragon refused to look at him for what he had done, siding with your dragon. He had to earn your respect. But, he was willing to do it. Swallowing his pride, he looks at you shamefully, seeing the hate within your eyes.

You now looked at him with the same hate that everyone else in the Realm did. It was not as pleasing or comforting as he had wanted or though it would be. It felt shameful. It felt heartbreaking. You were supposed to look at him with love, not hatred.

“I..”

“You what, Aegon?” You snap back, annoyed.

“I…Tell me what you wish for me to say and do. Tell me what man you wish for me to be, and I shall be him for you.” He pleads, using the same words you had said to him weeks ago.

----

[erwinsvow]

𝐜𝐨𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐞, 𝐛𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐤, 𝐭𝐰𝐨 𝐬𝐮𝐠𝐚𝐫𝐬

summary: aaron hotchner is a lot of things. in love with you is one that you never saw coming.

word count: 7.1k

author's note: bau!reader + hotch is my favorite combo ever. i haven't written and posted in, like, two years so please be nice :) i've written so many other versions of hotch but this one just wrote itself. inspired by the amazing @luveline and so many breathtaking hotch stories and isabel (alisdas on ao3, not on here anymore i think :( ) who wrote of terrible coffee and late-night rides which i think started all of this and my immense aaron brain rot when i read that fic, like, three years ago. enjoy!

This was wrong, Aaron thought to himself. He seldom committed acts that others might say were wrong, or argue they could potentially be wrong, but this was different. Aaron felt wrong, a feeling he was not used to.

“I’m worried about you, that’s all,” you had said quietly on the jet early one morning. You two were sitting across from each other on the flight back from the team’s latest solved case, an excruciating long ride home from the coast of Oregon.

Your book laid open on your lap, unread and a bookmark tucked between the earlier pages. The spine was cracked, like you’d read it a hundred times before. He knew that wasn’t true though, it was just a used novel probably from the thrift store around the corner of your apartment.

You had told him once, back when you first started—back when he was still married and you were less affected by this job—that you liked finding used (pre-loved, you call it) books and picking the most worn out ones to take home. You said it means that someone used to love this book.

It felt wrong because you were too young for him, and too innocent to be mixed up in his life. What could you know about his thoughts? About the love of his life that divorced him and his son he only sees once in a while.

The rest of the team makes jokes with you, in particular JJ and Penelope. He’s even heard Emily pitch in, about your not-so-secret fondness for your boss. For him. 

Back when you had first started, it was nothing. Passing glances, working extra hard to please him and earn his praise—which was never given out generously. He hadn’t even taken the time to notice, never paid more attention than any other member of the team. What he did notice was your work ethic.

Being among the youngest of the team had instilled a drive in you to prove your worth. You always stayed an hour extra, came early, and spent  nights working the case even when you were yawning every few minutes. The most attention he’d given you back then was commenting that you’d had a good insight into the unsub, commending you on well-written reports and briefs, and offering you a cup of coffee when it was just you and him left in the sheriff’s office. He’d be rereading seemingly endless pages of the case reports and you’d be diving headfirst into the victim’s lives.

Your specialty was always understanding why the victims did what they did, figuring out their routines and ascertaining important details from their personal belongings. He was used to you flicking through diaries and boxes of mementos that were once treasured by another young girl, not so much older than yourself. 

He’d be lying if he hadn’t thought it was impacting you—reading through the journals of dead women who had been very similar to yourself, with similar hopes and dreams. It was depressing, he knew, and yet if you were bothered by it, you didn’t show it in the slightest. At least not to him. 

And back then, he’d never notice the sweet smile that always graced your face when he was asking you if you’d like coffee. You’d shake your head no, and take sips of water between your yawns. You didn’t even tell him that you don’t drink coffee until a few months later, after he asked if you’d ever like a cup when he offered. He can remember it clearly even now.

“Actually, Hotch, I don’t drink coffee.” Your cheeks were tinged with color like you were embarrassed to even be admitting this to him.

“Why didn’t you say anything sooner? I would have stopped asking three months ago.” If he sounded stern, he didn't mean to. The burning on your face deepened.

“I didn’t want to be rude. I drink tea though, but I didn’t think to mention it. It’s not as easy to make.”

“Well, let me know if you need a cup of hot water then.”

You had smiled at that, and he had turned around to take another picture on the bulletin board. He smiled a little too.

“You don’t need to worry about me,” he said, maybe a little too gruffly. He didn’t mean it, again, but it just came out that way. He thinks some part of him is trying to warn you to stay away before you get too close.

“We’re all worried. You went through something really big and didn’t tell any of us and even if you don’t care about us like that, I care about you. I just want to make sure you’re okay.” 

Aaron’s gaze casts around the rest of the jet.  Derek has his headphones in, staring out the window and trying to resist sleep. JJ and Emily are playing cards—they should be sleeping, but they had a little too much espresso a few hours before. They’re too far away to hear you and Aaron speaking, but he notices JJ’s eyes darting over every once in a while. Spence is asleep, and he realizes that’s why it’s so quiet. Dave is reading a book, too, but he’ll stop and interject into JJ and Emily’s conversation.

He looks back at you, sleepy-eyed and wrapped in a warm, boxy pullover from your alma mater. He thinks a little bit too much about you these days, and he can’t get it to stop. He shouldn’t profile anyone on the team, they have a strict moratorium on that, but especially not you.

You, who never fails to try to make anyone feel better when they’re down. You, who doesn’t make it seem like you’re analyzing their behavior, but rather observing and offering comfort in hard times. You remember everything the team tells you about their likes and dislikes, never forgetting a birthday or special occasion. He can distinctly recall fresh chocolate chip cookies on Derek’s birthday, carrot cake from the Italian bakery Rossi loves to celebrate when his latest book became a bestseller, and a new knick knack for Penelope’s office after a particularly brutal case.

You say it’s all in passing, but he knows it’s not. You’re trying your hardest to keep the team together in the little ways, strengthening bonds that extend beyond coworkers. You want to fit in and be accepted, and you worry so much that you won’t. This is your way of trying to show that you’re a part of this team too, not just the new girl and one of the young ones. 

Aaron blinks twice. You’re looking at him expectantly, and he wishes you wouldn’t. All he’ll do is disappoint you. 

“You don’t need to worry,” he repeats. “I’ll be fine.” 

“I wish you wouldn’t say that. Why is it so bad for us to worry about you?” You look like you’re starting to get upset—it hurts Aaron more than he realized it would. It’s not bad for the others to worry, it’s bad for you. If you get attached, if he lets this get unprofessional, he doesn’t think he’ll ever forgive himself. Hurting himself is one thing; hurting you is another entirely.

“Let it go, Agent. Try to get some rest.” He looks out the window. He can see the sun coming up, and realizes he hasn’t slept since the night before last. He still needs to drive home—not really home, he remembers sadly, his empty apartment— and work on reports before he can even see Jack. He doesn’t think resting now is a good idea, and yet his body is so tired.

When he looks back, you’re reading your book again but your eyes are really paying attention to the words on the page. You’re just skimming, and blinking rapidly, and he realizes then he’s made you tear up.

His phone goes off—Haley, and he feels guilt building up in his chest, almost overwhelming him. He steps away to answer and talks quietly. He doesn’t want you to overhear and worry even more. When he comes back to his seat, you’ve fallen asleep. He takes the book from your hands gently and puts the bookmark in, closing it and resting it on the seat beside you. He watches you sleep and wonders if he’s making a mistake trying to hide from you. He thinks, and not for the first time, that you see right through him.

The plane lands an hour and a half later, and everyone is beyond exhausted. Even Spencer, who normally doesn’t need much energy or caffeine to start talking fast about something interesting he noticed about this case and this unsub, is unusually quiet. They’re all running on fumes, staying up two nights in a row profiling and then catching the unsub with the latest victim at one in the morning, and then boarding the jet soon after.

Aaron makes a decision, everyone can work on their notes from home and the report is due no later than day after next. Derek pats him on the shoulder and says no one is to call him for the next twenty-four hours. JJ and Emily exchange a laugh. Y

ou, he notices, though he wishes he wouldn’t, go up to Spencer and talk with him quietly. When you’re done, he beams at you and you at him. He wonders what you two talked about when they’re all heading out, listening to Spencer ramble about how the unsub’s use of his childhood spots as disposal sites offers insight into the abuse of his youth. Prentiss tells him to save it for the report. 

He and Rossi are walking back to their cars when Dave speaks up for the first time.

“You’re wondering what she said to him, aren’t you?”

Aaron stops for a moment. 

“You should know better than to profile me.”

“Oh, I’m not profiling. This is just me being observant. You should stop fiddling with your ring finger when you talk to her. It’s a dead giveaway.”

“Dave, I don’t need to tell you that this conversation—“

“I know, I know. I won’t mention it again if you don’t want me to.”

“Thank you. I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”

“See you tomorrow, Aaron. And by the way, she offered to write his notes for him if he wanted. He said it’s hard for him to write about unsubs with schizophrenic tendencies and she said she can try to help, if he wants. That’s all. Let me know when you’re ready to talk about this.”

Aaron gets in his car and doesn’t stop thinking about you the entire ride home.

-

You wish you could make it stop. The way you feel about your boss. It started so long ago, it’s almost a part of you now. Aaron is stern and his disposition is frightening, to the say the least. But only at first, you’ve realized, after so many late evenings spent discussing the case with him, breaking down the tiniest details, and him paying attention to your every word when you discuss the victim’s demeanor and behavior to try to figure out what had really happened.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this, you thought. You had gone to the overpopulated state school with the hopes of entering the medical field. You were a true empath, and there was no one’s suffering you couldn’t relate to, no one that you wouldn’t try to make feel better. All your life, people cried on your shoulder while you offered up words of comfort. And because of this, everyone thought you were a shoo-in for nursing or medical school, where you could help people through the worst days of their life.

All it took was a few days at the hospital where you had been working, a string of murder victims being wheeled in one after another, for you to reconsider your life’s work. None had survived the incident, but the killer let them live just long enough to be seen by the doctor, who then had to declare them legally dead.

Something about the victims seemed familiar to you, how they’d all come from wealthy families and were sliced up in their expensive clothing, expensive jewelry and watches smashed to bits instead of being stolen. You mentioned it to one of the officiers, who told someone else, and somewhere in that chain of events, your insight helped them catch the killer.

It was then, you thought, that maybe you should be working on the other side of these situations. Stopping the killer before it ever got to this. 

Then you’d done a one-hundred and eighty degree spin on your career, electing to pursue becoming an agent. You had been young, and motivated, and you chose to overlook when everyone told you this job might become your whole life, leaving no time for a husband and kids and a family.

You had ignored it all, working your way up from the local field office to child crimes in just a year and a half. The transition out of sex crimes to homicide was disturbingly hard, because at least before you’d had a victim to interview. You were no expert, not yet, but a unique asset altogether, combining a true mission to uncover the best in each victim, and figuring out their behavior patterns from bedrooms and diaries.

It was a unique skill-set, acquired mostly because a lot of traumatized children didn’t offer much to go off of. You had to turn to their childhood homes, toys, and scribbles to figure out what had been going on in the first place.

You reflect often on why you decided to leave child homicide when news spread that the BAU had an opening for one more agent. Truthfully, you hadn’t considered it at all, since you were more than happy with your current position and coworkers. You were solving cases, delivering justice, and bringing whatever comfort you could bring to grieving families.

In fact, you had been requested specifically. You, out of a hundred or more well-established, intelligent agents that could be a huge asset to the team. You were never special, and you didn’t like to think of yourself in that way either, but you couldn’t deny how good it felt to hear that the team wanted you. 

And when you transferred over, everyone was so nice. The team was inviting, they respected your opinion, and especially in cases with younger victims, they revered your knowledge. You felt included, and invaluable, and as hard as you worked, you wanted to work even harder. 

Your boss was a brilliant agent and profiler, and so hardworking that you wanted to do anything you could to make his workload a little easier. You wrote the most detailed reports, so he would have to edit them as much.. You offered to pick up extra briefs, so he took home a couple less papers. And no matter what you did, acknowledged or not, you knew you were making the kind of difference you’d always dreamed you would. 

Aaron—he was only ever Aaron in your head, and Hotch the rest of the  time—liked you as an agent, and it made you happy. A little happier than you should be, considering he was happily married with a toddler and a perfect life outside of work. It was almost wrong, but it didn’t stop you from trying to impress him with your work ethic.

You always put aside your other feelings and focused on the team, and somehow in all of that, you felt like you were finally making your difference. You were close with the team and close enough with Aaron, that you hadn’t been worried to start that conversation on the jet now that all these circumstances were changing. Haley had asked for a divorce and he hadn’t muttered a word of it to anyone.

He’s so tired, you can see. You wonder if everyone else notices it too, or if it’s just you observing so closely. He has dark circles now, because he never sleeps, always working, and the furrows on his forehead are seemingly etched in and permanent. He misses his wife and his son, and you know it, and maybe it’s wrong to care about your boss so much that your heart hurts when you see him glancing at the framed photos of his family on his desk, or the tiny polaroids in his wallet, but you do. You think you’re in love with Aaron Hotchner, and you don’t know how to make it stop. 

You’re gonna get hurt, you remind yourself every now and then. 

Aaron and Spence have just come back from the prison, where they had an encounter with Chester Hardwick that they won’t really talk about. You’d been with the rest of the team in Indiana, and then two days later in Oregon. 

Aaron and Haley were divorcing, and it hurt him so much, you knew, because it wasn't for a lack of love. It was a lack of time, a shortness of hours in the day. He couldn’t be the husband Haley wanted and the father he thought Jack needed while being an agent for eighteen hours a day. It hurt you too, seeing him like this. You wish he felt better. 

The days and weeks seemed to blend into months. Somewhere in between Hotch’s divorce and JJ’s pregnancy, you had become complacent with your relationship with Aaron. Walking in together from the parking lot, leaving together at the end of a long day—usually alone and sometimes joined by Emily or David. Sometimes you’d have a frothy drink from a nearby coffee shop in your hand—to which you always hear, “My coffee’s not better than that stuff?”

“It’s not coffee, remember-”

“I know, you don’t drink coffee. That stuff is full of sugar. I don’t need you bouncing off the walls like Reid and Garcia too.”

You laugh, and then you wonder if it’s because he really cares or if it was just a passing comment. You share a lot of little moments like that. 

When his eardrum was nearly blown out after New York, you almost offered to drive back with him from Ohio to Virginia. It was instinct, because you just didn’t want him to be alone. You had exchanged a glance when he handed you the plate of brownies from the victim’s mother, and you knew he had read your mind. But he didn’t say anything, and you left it at that. You’re not nearly stupid enough to think that your boss reciprocates your feelings for him. Hell, most days you don’t even know what feelings you have for him.

Your seats on the jet are almost permanently fixed; near the coffee machine towards the cockpit. You sit across from each other, and sometimes you don’t even speak. He’ll bring you a cup of hot water, and he doesn’t ask if you need a tea bag from the make-shift coffee station, because knows they’re in your go-bag. 

When it’s his weekend with Jack after two weeks of back-to-back cases, Aaron is always working on the reports on the jet. It’s because he’s trying to reduce how much work he has to do at home, and even when everyone’s fallen asleep and your eyes are close to shutting, you get up and make him a cup of coffee. He’s never once told you how he takes it, and he doesn’t know if you’ve seen him make it either, but somehow you know, and it’s always right. When you offer him the steaming paper cup, he looks up at you with an entirely new look—something you’ve never seen before. You two don’t exchange so many words.

He says it all with his eyes, sometimes, even when you’re not looking. It’s gratitude. (When you get off the jet a few hours later, you tease Morgan about his snoring. Derek asks you where his cup of coffee is, and you shove his arm so hard he almost drops his bag.

In the end, it was you who had figured out there was something wrong with the Reaper’s last few victims. 

“Why would a nineteen year old girl date her teaching assistant?” You had questioned, looking through a file that everyone’s eyes had already seen. “An honors student, a freshman, I mean, none of this points to an illicit affair with faculty. She knew it was against the rules and her roommates said she’s never so much as skipped class.”

“That could have been because she wants to see him,” Derek interjects. “If they were truly in love like Foyet said, she’d take every opportunity to be with him.”

“But in an environment where no one can know you two are together? I mean, if she was in love and close to getting engaged, wouldn’t she tell her best friends? Her parents? How many teenage girls keep something like that just to themselves?”

The pieces of the puzzle that had once fit together so nicely were coming undone. It felt like the blink of an eye, from catching Foyet to him escaping. Everyone was on edge, no one more than Aaron, and your empathy still knew no bounds. Where you had once been able to focus on work and dedicate all your thoughts to the cases, you now were distracted and distant. Every other thought was about Aaron, as wrong as that might be. 

Canada had been something else entirely. It was difficult for the entire team to fathom, but nearly impossible for you. You had lost your temper twice—something you’d never done before— and thrown up when the team discovered all the shoes. JJ had run after you but in the end, Aaron was the one who found you outside.

“I’m sorry, JJ, I’ll be fine—I-I just need a minute,” you breath out, chest heaving and tears brimming. 

“It’s okay,” Aaron says, “take your time.” 

You turn around so fast, your breath catching, and you hate this situation. You could never hate Aaron but you hate this, you hate that he followed you and that he’s seeing you like this. You look weak, after two and a half years of trying to prove to him that you’re strong—strong enough to handle this job, do what needs to be done, and not cry at a crime scene.

“I-I’m sorry, I-” 

“Why are you apologizing?” He doesn’t sound mad, or like he’s belittling you, and you don’t know why that’s what you expected. This is Aaron, your Aaron, and even though he’s not really yours it doesn't seem to matter much right now.

“I’m making a scene. I-I shouldn’t be throwing up on the job or screaming at those unsubs or anything else-”

“It’s okay. It happens.” Aaron says it so concisely, you almost feel better for a second. Isn’t this what it’s always come down to? You need Aaron like air, and somehow he always knows what you need to hear. He doesn’t treat you any differently compared to the others but it feels different today. You can’t describe it in words. If JJ or Morgan had followed you out here, you would have said the same things, but you wouldn’t have felt this way. Like if you crumble here today, Aaron will be there to pick you up.

“Take your time, please,” he repeats. “I know you think you have something to prove to me, but you don’t. You’ve proven it already, to all of us. Admitting that all of this gets to you isn’t a bad thing. That’s what separates us from them.”

At that moment, a dam bursts. Tears flow down your face like they haven’t in so long, as long as you can remember. You think you should feel embarrassed, crying in front of your boss, but Aaron takes you into his arms and you can’t remember the last time you felt this safe. Cheesy, you think, but this is everything I thought it would be and more.

You’re not sure how long he holds you there, but eventually once the front of his shirt is covered in your tears and he offers you a tissue (Does he just carry this around waiting for one of us to cry?) and you head back together. This is the embarrassing part, you think, bracing yourself and biting your inner cheek. But if the team is judging you at this moment, they certainly don’t show it.

You join JJ and Emily inside the house, who ask you if you’re okay when you sniffle for the last time. Spencer asks you later, on the way home. Derek tells you to call him if you need anything. Dave tells you, “You’ll be okay, kid,” and somehow, you believe him. Penelope texts you once on your phone, checking in and promising a distracting, gossip filled girl’s night out soon.

Aaron walks you to your car, and says goodnight. You’re delusional, you think, once you're back at home. You’ve taken the longest, hottest shower imaginable and your record player is emitting the scratchy sound of your favorite Beatles album. You’re in a big shirt that’s getting wet while you brush your freshly cleaned hair and all you can think about is how it felt to be wrapped in Aaron’s arms a couple hours ago. 

You are delusional, you remind yourself. You’re checking your phone every couple minutes like a love-sick teenager. You think Aaron’s going to call you to check in, you almost feel it in your bones. You leave the ringer on incase he calls later—maybe he showered and sat down to work on some reports before sleeping. You fall asleep thirty minutes later, exhausted down to your bones, and wake up startled by your phone going off. In your sleepy delirium, you answer without looking who it is—assuming it’s Aaron.

“Hotch?” 

“Hey, sorry it’s JJ. We have another case, I’m sorry.”

“Oh, JJ, um, okay, I-I’ll be there in ten. Text the address, okay?” Your cheeks burn at the slip.

“I sent it just now. Listen, I’m sorry, but can you try Hotch’s cell? I called and texted and he’s not answering.” You feel your stomach turn, first because Aaron isn’t answering and he always answers, and second because JJ thinks he’ll answer if you call.

“I’ll try him now. I’ll call you back.”

You try him twice while changing and another time in the car. Your only explanation is that maybe he went to see Jack and put his phone away, but even that doesn’t check out. 

When you get to the scene, you inform the others about Aaron not answering.

“Alright, let’s split up for now and I’ll keep trying Hotch,” Derek says. They don’t seem that worried, and maybe that lulls you into not worrying either. After all, they’ve known him a lot longer than you have.

You end up with Spencer and Emily at the doctor’s house, combing through patient files Garcia sent over. There’s tens of dozens, and even though you want to go with Emily to Aaron’s place to get him, you know your experience with kids and in the hospital is vital. You and Spencer start working, but something feels off. You just can’t place it. 

In the end, you attribute it to your nerves from the last case. Your fear of embarrassing yourself carried into today, and even though you know no one judged you for losing it in Canada, the feeling lingers. Spencer answers the phone from Emily and says that Hotch was busy with something at the bureau that now requires Emily too. In the end, you and Spence figure it out just in time. Your body is so tired, it hurts, and then on top of that, Spencer gets hurt. You can barely process what’s happening, and you don’t feel better until the doctor says it’s through-and-through.

“God, Spencer, never do that again,” you say, your hands wet with the blood from his wound. You wipe it on your clothes, thinking you’ll change soon. 

“Guys, guys listen to me, something’s happened to Hotch.” The blood drains from your face and your breath stops in your throat. 

“What?” 

“Emily told me not to say anything until we got the unsub, but he’s in the hospital.”

The next hour is a blur. You all show up to the hospital, and Emily is talking to a bunch of agents. Their faces are blurred because you can hardly think straight. 

“Em? Is he okay?” your words must be coming out frantically because everyone’s looking at you like you’re about to crumble. 

“I’m sorry, I couldn’t say anything because I knew we wouldn’t be able to think straight about the case, I know it’s wrong but-”

“Is he okay?” You didn’t mean to cut her off, it just happened like that. Your mind is so clouded right now with a petrifying vision of Aaron dying alone on the floor of his new apartment that he hates so much, while you were waiting for a call for him.

“He-he hasn’t woken up yet.” 

You sit on a chair by Aaron’s bed. He looks like he’s sleeping, and a part of you had always wanted to see him like this. It would be comforting, if he actually was sleeping. You’d imagined it a little differently—you thought for sure he snores and sleeps on his side. You always notice sleep lines only on one arm when you guys have just woken up and continue working on the case. You stare extra hard when he rolls up the sleeves of his dress shirt on particularly hot days. Everyone would moan and groan about another case in the heat of Texas or Arizona, but not you.

It seems like those memories were a million years ago. 

When he wakes up, everyone pours in and it distracts you for a few heartbeats. When they realize what Foyet is actually after, the terror is apparent on everyone's faces. You realize how long it’s been since you last saw Haley and Jack when they finally step into the room. You and Emily leave to give them privacy. 

Later that night, you’re back in that chair. Aaron wakes up for a few minutes at a time, and when he finally stays awake, he notices you.

“How long have I been out?” 

“Thirty minutes. Give or take.”

“Is there water?”

“Yeah, yeah.” You scramble up to get the pitcher and pour him a glass. There’s a straw too, which you put in the cup and hold still for a second so he can drink.

“Thanks.”

“Yeah.” He can see all your emotions on your face. It doesn’t take him long at all, not anymore. You’ve been crying and your clothes have blood on them. He’s alarmed again.

“Is that your blood?” he asks, swallowing hard.

“No, no, Hotch. We had a case, the-the unsub shot Spence. He’s okay though, it just got on me and I haven’t been back home to change yet.”

“Why don’t you? Go home?”

“I didn’t want to leave you.”

“I’ll be fine.”

“I let you go home alone yesterday and look what happened.” You smile meekly at your own joke, hoping he appreciates it. He lies still though, not smiling. 

“I think you should go home. Get some rest after everything.”

“You know, Hotch, only you would tell me to go home and rest up when you’re the one who’s currently in the hospital.” 

“I just think-”

“Do you want me to leave? If you do, I will. I swear.” There’s silence between you two for a moment.

“No.” 

“Good, because I wasn’t going to.” The corners of his mouth turn up a little. You barely even notice it. “I can’t leave now. I don’t want you to sit alone here.” You should stop talking, you think to yourself. But you don’t. “You know yesterday, I got home and the whole time I sat there wondering if you were gonna call my cell. I even turned the ringer up all the way so I didn’t miss it. And I know that’s stupid because why would you call me? But I had this feeling. And now all I can think is why didn’t I call you?”

“Don’t think like-”

“Don’t think like that? Yeah, I knew you would say that. But if I had called you like I wanted to, and asked you to come over like I wanted to, maybe this wouldn’t have happened. But I didn’t because I was scared and I don’t want to be scared anymore. And I know this is the last thing you need to hear right now, but I guess I can’t hold it in any longer.” 

You want to clamp your hand over your mouth. Your favorite cheesy rom-coms have infiltrated your brain, and you can’t fathom how stupid you must sound right now to Aaron. He’s just almost died and the kid who was the last to join his team is declaring love for him on his hospital bed. But it won’t stop coming out.

“Can I tell you something Aaron? I mean, more than I already have? Emily said she didn’t tell me you were hurt because she knew I wouldn’t be able to think straight about the case anymore. About anything, anymore, if I knew you were missing or that you were hurt or dead. And I’ve been trying to hide it for so long, because I know you don’t need any more complications in your life right now, but, I think I have feelings for you, Aaron.” Hot tears stream down your face. You try to stop them but you can’t. They’ve been building up for two years.

“Please don’t cry. I don’t have a tissue for you this time.” You smile through your tears, but your entire body is still tense. It’s because you’re still expecting bad news, still waiting for the other shoe to drop. 

“Do you want me to leave? I can call Emily, she’ll sit with you if you don’t want to be alone.”

“I don’t want you to leave. And you don’t have to tell me these things, I already knew them.” Another few tears drip down your face. Aaron’s chest hurts more than it has ever before. He thinks back to your conversation on the jet that day, when you told him you cared about him and he hadn’t said much of anything at all. “I hope you know that I have feelings for you, too.” 

“You mean you care about me and the team?” you question half-heartedly. You think you’ve already gotten your answer. “I mean I care about the team a lot. And I care about you more than I should, more than what’s right. More than a superior should care about one of their agents. And I think if this hadn’t happened, I would have called you last night. Not because of the case, because of you. Because I need to make sure you’re okay.”

Your heart thumps uncomfortably in your chest. Aaron reaches out his hand a little, and you take it into yours. You sit like that for a long time, and you know there’s so much else going on, but a small part of you sighs in relief. Aaron is okay, and he feels about you how you do about him, and maybe everything will be okay in the end. 

The months after Haley’s funeral are tough for everyone. It’s weird going to work and not seeing Aaron. Sometimes you inadvertently make a cup of coffee how he likes it and have no one to give it to. You started drinking some, even though it tastes bitter and terrible, it makes you feel close to him.

How stupid is that, you wonder one day, sipping the coffee and looking over files with JJ. If the rest of the team thinks you're stupid, they haven’t shown any signs of it yet. You’re sure they mostly feel bad for you and your pathetic behavior. You’ve gotten sloppy because you can’t stop thinking about how Aaron is doing. 

You and the team will go visit him and Jack at his new place. You make cookies, snickerdoodle for Aaron and oatmeal raisin for Jack.

“What kind of a kid are you?” you questioned, helping Jack scribble in his Captain America coloring book. He’s munching on a cookie while you try to figure out what part of the shield is blue and what part is red. “I mean, who likes oatmeal raisin cookies at the tender age of 5?” 

“I did,” Spencer says, taking another one out of the tin. 

“You don’t count, genius,” Morgan says, and then directs his gaze at you. “And I mean come on, no chocolate chip for me? None at all? That hurts.”

“I made you some like two weeks ago! I have a job, you know,” you fire back. Aaron laughs, eating the snickerdoodle after dipping it in milk. It’s so domestic, you feel yourself staring. You only turn away when he catches you looking. 

When he comes back, you wonder if it’ll ever feel normal again. That silly routine you two had, the chairs on the jet near the coffee machine that you still sit in, walks to your car. 

At first, it just feels strange. So much has changed yet the team’s dynamic remains the same. You get through cases with the same ferocity you had when you first started, eager to prove your worth again. Your reports detail every detail and then some, and you stay even later than Aaron some nights. You need something to focus on, and your cases seem like the best option. The other option is to have another conversation with Aaron about your feelings and you think you might die if that happens.

When it finally does happen, it’s plenty embarrassing. You were so sure about your theory about this unsub, so sure that he would confess if he was confronted about his crimes and reminded of the humanity of his victims—three little kids, all under ten. Maybe that’s why it bothered you so much, and that’s why you stormed into the residence even though the rest of the team was screaming at you not to. In the end, you talk him down, but Aaron runs in behind you anyways and nearly spooks the unsub into suicide.

“You do not have the authorization to make calls like that,” Aaron yells at you, and though you had once thought you would die if he yelled at you, it’s all too easy to yell back. 

In that moment, when you had known what would happen, dealing with your area of expertise, he stormed in and questioned you and your abilities as an agent and as a profiler.

“I don’t need authorization, I knew what would happen, and I knew how to talk him down without this ending in gunfire—”

“I don’t care what you think you knew. This is a team, and we don’t make decisions that jeopardize a case without agreeing on it!” “You mean you have to agree with every decision I make? I had it handled, Hotch, you almost blew that whole thing up because you didn’t believe in me!”

“That’s not what this is about,” he fires back, and it feels strange to be yelling at you. He can’t recall the last time he’s ever done this. The rest of the team is just packing up in the police station, trying not to overhear but not really having any choice in the matter.

“Yes it is! You don’t trust me! Not to make decisions for this team and for our cases, or for anything. You just proved that back there. You don’t trust me.” It’s happening again. Tears brew in your eyes. They spill down before you can stop it. Aaron softens before your very eyes at the sight of them. “Stop! Stop feeling bad just because now I’m crying, they’re not tears for you, they’re angry tears and I can’t control it-”

“Of course, I trust you.” His voice has dropped from a yell to just above a whisper. “How could you think that I don’t?”

“I’m not stupid, Aaron. I know what I’m doing. My plan was going to work and you shot me down in front of everyone because you didn’t believe in me,” you say between tears. “Nothing’s changed.”

“And what do you think would happen if you stormed in there and I lost you too?” His voice is gentle. You hadn’t noticed that he was so close to you now. You can see the eyelash on his cheek and feel the heat radiating from his body. 

“That’s not what this is about.”

“That is exactly what this is about. You think I don’t trust you, so I won’t let you walk into a confrontation alone? That I think you don’t know how to profile, how to handle these unsubs, so I get into a screaming match outside a crime scene? Tell me, does that check with any of my behavior in the years I’ve known you?”

“I don’t know, Hotch, I don’t profile you.”

“You call me Hotch in front of everyone, and especially when you’re upset with me. When it’s just us you use Aaron. You know how I take my coffee even though I’ve never told you, because you pay attention even when no one else is looking. Cases with children affect you the most, especially when it takes us longer to work them, because you think you should be quicker and figure out the unsub faster since you worked with kids before joining the team. You remember the little things everyone says because you don’t want them to think you’re not paying attention to them. You cry about cases when you feel like there’s something more you should have done, even though there’s nothing else any of us can do. And you cry about me the most of all, that time on the jet, in the hospital, and just now because you think I don’t share your feelings. You think I know all this because I’m profiling you, but it’s not. It’s because I pay attention to those whom I love.” 

Shell shocked. You are shell shocked at Aaron’s speech, eyes wide and mouth open. You’re sure the rest of the team, hidden behind a bulletin board and the conference table is much the same. 

“I’m going to kiss you now. And that’s the end of the conversation about me not trusting you, okay?” You nod dumbly. Aaron’s lips are sweet and taste like his coffee—black, with two sugars. You feel another tear falling but it’s only because you hadn’t expected any of that. 

“That took long enough,” David says from behind the partition. 

and voila <3

[katiascraft]

so i thought like reader being williams social media manager and she is also Francos ex girlfriend. And now Franco is coming into f1 and they see each other again? I don’t know if it makes sense hut yeah. Maybe you like the idea. Love your stuff💗

Hey sweetie 💌 ooooooh I love the idea! I love drama and second chances! Hope you like it. Thank you so much for your request! You are the first to do so. And so I wanted to let you know you made me so happy today :3 (sorry if it took a while but better late than ever! And I hope you have a wonderful day as well 🩵)

——————————————————————————————

“But we were something, don’t you think so? And if my wishes came true it would’ve been you” | FC43

Parings: Franco Colapinto x WilliamsRancingEmployee!Reader.

Summary: Franco and you broke up a while ago. You didn’t expect to see him ever again until he starts driving in F1 for Williams Racing Team.

Now playing: “The 1” by Taylor Swift.

Word count: +2,4k.

Warnings: a little angst? And fluff. Not a native English speaker so there could be errors. Not proofread.

Author’s note: thank you anon for your request again! First time writing about Fran - maybe I could get used to this. Don’t forget to like or reblog! And follow me so we can be friends :3 (and drink mate together!)

MASTERLIST

You were trying to not lose your umbrella because of the wind. It was raining pretty heavily. England was never a city where happy spirits lived. The sky it’s pretty much sad and depressed most days of the year. But you loved it. You loved feeling melancholy. Remembering your past with a smile or tears.

You had something of not overcoming the past pretty fast. It’s really hard for you to let go and deal with deadlines.

You got finally to the bus stop where a ceiling was now protecting you a little from the water. You were heading for the Williams Racing factory where you’ve worked for a few years now. You were the social media manager at Williams. And you had a meeting with the marketing department.

These last few months were really hard on you. And the reason was just one single person. And that was Franco.

You and Franco dated for two years back when he got in F4. You were teenagers. But still he was the guy who made you feel all the butterflies for the first time. The relationship didn’t end pretty well. You didn’t wanna end it but he told you that he had already made his decision. He needed to be focused to be able to jump to F1 and your romance to him was a distraction. That hurt you so much. And it still hurts thinking about it.

You heart stoped for a second when you saw a guy walking towards your same bus stop - you thought it was Franco because he takes the bus to work just like he always did since you two met. But it wasn’t. Though the guy from afar looked a lot like him. You calmed yourself down.

You job got pretty tricky since Franco jumped finally into F1. You were so happy for him. You wanted to talk to him and tell him how proud of him you were but you couldn’t. You were supposed to hate each other. Working with him was a challenge. You just decided to pretend you didn’t even know who he was and treat him as you treated Alex or Logan before. Even though your heart raced so fast by just looking at him, talk to other people.

First time you saw him was back in august when James announced a new driver was chosen to replace Logan. You loved Logan. Such a great guy. But you understood this was also a business and money is top priority. And Williams isn’t a team with many economic resources so each penny counted. James did an introduction to him a day before the race. He said hi to everyone. When you two saw each other just shook hands. You couldn’t even look at him. When you were back home you had a breakdown and needed to call your therapist because you don’t know how the fuck you were be able to deal him every single day. And even post about him most of the time because for your unlucky luck people became obsessed with him. Everybody loved Franco. And you understood why: he was the most charming and handsome boy you have ever met. And he didn’t change a bit after one year of not seeing him - you thought - forever.

Finally you took the bus. You were gonna be late so you texted your co-worker Amanda to let her know it. You sat on the only free seat that there was.

You were preoccupied in revising everything you had to stay and show in your meeting you didn’t realize the guy sitting next to you was actually franco.

After an awkward silence Franco broke the ice “hey… buenos días” he said with a raspy voice. He was nervous. Not sure if you were okay if he even opened his mouth.

You felt colder than the weather when you heard him. You looked at him to check you weren’t dreaming and indeed you weren’t. You give him a little smile. “Oh hi fran” that’s how you used to call him. Your heart sank a bit. “Good morning. Sorry I didn’t see you. I have a reunion and didn’t want to forget anything. You have a workout today?” You just decided to talk to him. A little chat wouldn’t kill you. And you hated pretending you didn’t know him. He smelled just the same. The same perfume. He had his mate bag with him and a boca juniors gym bag. Just as how you remembered him. You licked your lips nervously.

He nodded shyly and you saw his cheeks turning red for some reason. “Yeah I have gym today. And everything’s gonna be fine at the meeting. You always explain yourself perfectly” he said, sending you a sweet smile. His voice was deep and raspy. You knew he was still a little sleepy knowing it was almost 8am. You smiled back at him.

“Thank you” you said sweetly. Another weird silence took place between you two. You didn’t know what to say. You just looked around.

“Are you still mad at me y/n?” He said out of nowhere. The words just jumped out of his mouth. He was still hunted by what happened between you two. You looked at him again, giving him a sad look. You denied it with your head.

“No I'm not… I’m just sad. We were something right? But you know. It was hard to let you go but yeah…” you hesitated in what you could tell him. You didn’t even know what you were feeling right now. He stared at you a few seconds and nodded looking down. He started playing with his fingers.

“Maybe we could talk about all of this when you finish your meeting? I really think we should talk. I… I don’t like when you pretend you don’t know me… like we never knew each other you know? I feel really guilty about it. And… I’m proud of where you are now. It was your dream and you made it. And you’re really good at it. You give fans what they need” he said shyly and sad? He was working hard to show he can be an F1 driver. That he deserves a seat. But also he was really sad because he since decided to end things with you. He already regretted it.

Yes, he was more focused but he didn’t have your support. He isn’t into physical touch but your hugs were his favorites. He would let you touch him forever. He felt empty and really lonely. Even his family had to deal with the grief of not having you around anymore.

Yes, it was worth it for a while when he had James tell him he was gonna drive an F1 car for the end of the season. But when he saw you standing there. More beautiful than he has ever seen you. You looked so happy and profesional. So beautiful. And bright. He hated himself right there. Because you'd have done it together if he wouldn’t have been so selfish. He didn’t think he was in love with you when you broke up. But as the time passed he felt miserable. Getting home and seeing no one. No music. No you playing sims and showing him the sims you created while he was gone. No cooking cookies for tea time or ‘merienda’ how it is called in Argentina. Anyone to share mates with or talk about the day. No one to cuddle on the sofa or to forget about everything in bed. No one to go out and eat dinner. Or day trips to London. There was nothing left.

He was an asshole to you. And he really hated himself for that.

You couldn’t keep on talking because the bus was really where you needed to be. You both got down the bus in silence. And just walked side by side into the Williams factory announcing yourselves at the gate.

You were thinking about his offer. Like you needed it but at the same time you were scared. But you decided to follow your heart.

“See you after the meeting then?” You said when he opened the door of the factory for you. His sad look turned into a very smiley one. He nodded.

“Yeah yeah. I’ll be waiting for you at the cafeteria. Is that okay?” He said walking behind you because you were running late for the meeting. You turned to him a little.

“Sounds good to me Fran. See you in a bit” you said in a smile but feeling really weird at the same time. You didn’t know if that chat was gonna be the end of you or the relief you just needed. You didn’t know. But you knew you couldn’t keep going the way you two were.

You disappeared from Franco's view while you ran up the stairs to the office where the meeting was being held. He just stared there for a few seconds wondering. He didn’t know if talking was the best move but he felt better after you said yes. And he realized how bad he missed hearing you call him Fran. He got into the gym. Everyone was already there so he didn’t have time to keep thinking about you. Now it was time for a great workout. And a pretty intense one.

(…)

You got out of the office 2 hours later. It was intense. You had a headache now and you needed some coffee. You were regretting deciding to meet Franco but it is what it is. Maybe could it be relaxing? You didn’t believe yourself. But you were sure you just had to give him another chance and maybe be friends.

You walked down the stairs and headed to the cafeteria. When you got there you could see Franco sitting alone at one of the tables. There wasn’t anyone. It was just you and Franco and the women at the kitchen. You smiled. You were a little bit more relaxed knowing it was kind of private. First you headed into the kitchen and asked for a coffee. You knew Franco didn’t want one because you saw him drinking mate. The woman handed the coffee politely to you and you thanked her with a sweet smile “have a good rest of the day Amelia” you told her sweetly grabbing your coffee and now walking towards franco.

He saw you and gave you a bright smile. “Hey” he said, moving his stuff so you could sit with him at the table and have space for your coffee and things. He was reading some papers that were given to him by one of the engineers back in the simulator.

You smiled looking at him. He had showered and smelled incredibly good. And he looked so gorgeous by the sunlight that was coming in from the window. “Hey did I make you wait too long?” You said sitting down and getting comfy.

“No no I got here like 30 minutes ago” he said softly and sweetly. You looked so beautiful in your formal outfit. Though he remembered being crazy about you when you wore pajamas. You looked so cute. He missed you. Like crazy.

“Oh okay. Thank you for waiting for me” you thanked him and took a sip of your coffee. And he did the same with his mate.

“So… how are you? How’s your life been?” You said to start talking and leave the uncomfortness of the situation behind and just chill out and be okay with this. Or at least you wished that but you were a bit anxious of this conversation taking place.

“Well… to be fair it just depends on which aspect of my life you ask. In my driving life everything’s been great. Better than I could ever have expected. In my personal life to be honest I’ve been miserable” he said, giggling a little at the last part of his answer. You smiled sadly looking at him.

“Well maybe we aren’t so different. I’ve been miserable too personally. And at work gray. Better than ever. But you know a guy I used to date decided to fuck my life up by just being selfish so yeah - life’s shit” you really didn’t want to go there so fast but you just couldn’t control yourself. You’re still hurt. And you needed to be vocal about it. You deserve it. You could see he got nervous and readjusted himself on his chair.

“Oh yeah I think I remember him. He was an asshole to you. Then he felt empty and guilty and lonely and got depressed. But you know he deserved it for being such an idiot. I wouldn’t have let you go if I were him. You are in fact an incredible woman with the worst sense of humor I’ve ever met. And by worst I mean best.” He said talking in third person funny. You couldn’t help but laugh a little. You looked at him nodding.

“Yeah he was a selfish asshole but we can also agree maybe that he looks gorgeous now. If he has another girl then I would be really jealous. He is really a sweetheart. And a professional clown. Very funny. He should do stand up” you followed his way of navigating all of this mess you two created. He laughed and your heart melted. You loved making him laugh. Your heart started racing and butterflies reappeared in your stomach. You felt dumb.

“Oh no he is pretty ugly in my opinion. You were too much for him but like positively. You are fucking sexy and he is just a dude” he said raising his shoulders quirky and funny. You got so flustered.

“Well maybe you're right. I’m not gonna deny I’m on top level” you said joking giggling. He smiled wildly. There you were again. The you he was madly in love with. And the he was. The guy who made you laugh until you cried. The one who made you so happy.

It would’ve been fun if he would’ve been the one. Or maybe does he still have a chance?

“Look y/n I’m really sorry. I really am. I know that saying sorry doesn’t fix anything but I would really love it if we could be friendly and try to figure this out on good terms?” He said more seriously and you nodded agreeing.

“Yeah we can try. Everyone deserves a second chance right?”you told him. You had mixed feelings about it but you knew that maybe this was the best you could do. Try to make things easier between you two will also be beneficial for your work.

“Alright” he said with the biggest smile you saw him having since you saw him again. “You want some?” He asked, offering you mate and you just nodded, smiling at him and agreeing.

Just like the old days.

——————————————————————————————

Hope you liked it 💌 if you have anymore ideas my inbox is open so send your requests!

[81folklore]

this is me trying - LECLERC

pairing: charles leclerc x small!singer!reader (fc: olivia rodrigo)

summary: after a twitter thread was made talking about the struggles you faced in a horrible way, you release a song you wrote with charles to talk about it

authors note: i am in no way saying olivia has struggled with or is dealing with anything mentioned in this story. this song means alot to me as someone who struggles with both addiction and my mental health so if im projecting..no one needs to know😁 i honestly have no clue how this is going to turn out but we will see. anything in bold italics is french

warnings: talks of addiction, depression, anxiety and suicide. alcohol addiction, drugs and self harm are all mentioned. the topics of this is me trying are mentioned, for obvious reasons but in a more personally focused way (if that makes sense). unwarrented hate (?). nothing really goes into detail but just regular warnings, please reach out to someone if you are struggling!!

authors note 2: i had to dust this one off and I HATE IT. its literally my least favorite work ive ever done so please feel free to keep scrolling😭😭 i just kept projecting by accident and it honestly kind of got out of hand. im also SO BAD with my wording so i have no clue if any of it sounds how i wanted it too!!

authors note 3: after reading it over i realised i never actually explained what i was talking about in the song thread so quickly, charles’ and yn split for a short period after yn started shutting him out, she spoke to someone (the stranger) who helped her start to extend the branches back out to charles and they got back together around 11 ish months before the song was released!! the fans never knew why they broke up, there was some speculation but most of it was dropped when they got back toegther

masterlist

yourusername

liked by charles_leclerc, arthur_leclerc and 2,457 others

good food, yummy people😋

view comments

arthur_leclerc: you mean good people yummy food right?

yourusername: suuure😁

charles_leclerc: beautiful girl

yourusername: love you!!

user7: what is charles doing in the 5th picture😭😭

yourusername: he dropped his airpod😭

user10: girl have you seen twitter…

user75: charles run as fast as you can

user2: there is no way charles knew he’d never be with someone like that💀

user10: what and he’d be with someone like you??

user6: wait what is happening in these comments what happened on twitter?

user7: someone made a thread ‘exposing’ yn but its just a bunch of bullshit that his fans are using because they dont like yn

yourusername

liked by pierregasly, charles_leclerc and 3,562 other

studio time with baeee💋💋

view comments

charles_leclerc: my favorite musician💐

charles_leclerc: i love you so much

yourusername: you mean the world to me charlie

pierregasly: kika wants to know if she can come next time

yourusername: tell her to text me so we can arrange it!!

user73: oh my god new music soon

user64: does this mean charles is on her new music?!

yourusername: maybeee

user64: GIRL DONT TEASE US LIKE THIS

user99: im so sorry about whats happening on twitter you dont deserve that

user2: yes she does

arthur_leclerc: can you tell charles to stop talking about your music when im not allowed to hear it, please🙏

yourusername: sorry arthur!! wanna come for a car ride and listen to it with us??

arthur_leclerc: please please please

user82: yn and charles taking arthur on a car ride to listen to her new song, oh what if i cried😭😭

arthur_leclerc added to their story

seen by yourusername, charles_leclerc and 86,289 others

*text in first picture reads: 🤍🤍* *text in second picture reads: so unbelievably proud of my sister*

yourusername

liked by charles_leclerc, sebastianvettel and 8,215 others

if you had told me a year ago that not only would i still be here but i would be releasing a song talking about the darkest times of my life with the love of my life by my side i would never have believed you.

throughout the past few months i have revisited times of my life i wish i could have left behind but ive learnt that accepting that this is a part of me now is important in my journey of moving forwards, and in moving forwards ive learnt that my struggles do not define me and i wont be embarrassed by things that have affected me

sometimes i wish i could go back and erase that part of my life, erase the way i felt, erase the way i treated the people i loved the most. but i cant, and i wont let people belittle me for that time anymore

if you have struggled in the past or are struggling today, you are not alone. its a cliche thing to say but i promise you at least one other person will be experiencing the feelings your feeling, you may not know them, you may never know them but you are not alone, you never have been and you never will be

you are not weak for struggling, you are not weak for finding ways to cope, no matter what they may be, you are not weak for shutting people out and you are not weak for reaching out for help, no matter how little you think you need it. you deserve help, no matter how small your problems may seem to you, you are worthy of being safe, you are worthy of being happy

i never thought i would release a song highlighting those times for me, but i wanted anyone whose been through these things to know that i love you and i will always love you; this is me trying out now on all platforms❤️‍🩹

view comments

arthur_leclerc: i am so so proud of you, you deserve all the happiness in the world

charles_leclerc: you mean the world to me, i am so proud of what you have achieved and i will be by your side forever and always

yourusername: charlie i hold so much love for you i feel like i may explode

user55: ive been struggling with an addiction for a while, i cannot express the way this song feels. just, thank you so much

yourusername: im right beind you darling, i believe in you❤️‍🩹

user81: i fear if i listen to this anywhere outside of the comfort of my room i will break down in tears

user93: 🩵🩵

user42: I😭JUST😭WANTED😭YOU😭TO😭KNOW😭THAT😭THIS😭IS😭ME😭TRYING😭

sebastianvettel: im so proud of you yn, come visit with charles soon sweetheart

yourusername: dropping everything and coming right now

lewishamilton: 💜💜

yourusername: hi lewis🤭🤭

user70: YN HELP😭😭 (just like me fr)

charles_leclerc and yourusername added to their stories

seen by pierregasly, sebastianvettel and 2,348,172 others

*text on first photo reads: i hold so much love for you🩷* *text on second photo reads: my bestest friend in the entire universe🩵*

[daycourtofficial]

I will follow you into the dark

Pairing: Azriel x reader | WC: 3k | warnings: character death, depictions of violence and gore, depressive tendencies shown

Summary: going through the five stages of grief after Azriel’s death is much easier with his shadows’ assistance

Alternate summary: “daycourtofficial stabs everyone in the heart” - @milswrites

Author’s note: this is heartbreaking as hell but I think it’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever written. I legitimately sobbed while typing this. Tagging my pookie @illyrianbitch bc I sent her an early draft and her fic ‘when the heart is still longing’ inspired a scene in this

Cold. Ruthless. Calculated.

Words used to describe who Azriel was for the first five hundred years of his life. He wore a mask of indifference, a cold exterior to the world, letting them believe he was nothing more than the cruel exterior he showed everyone past his beloved family.

Until he met you.

You, whose extraordinary kindness and never ending patience for him helped him through the darkest pits of his soul.

It’s this past self he thinks about as the blade meets his skin, tearing through layers of muscle, blood spilling down his chest as it’s removed.

It’s this past self he reaches out to, begging for one moment to go back. To go back and save himself so much time. He would go back, his wings carrying him across Prythian, his landing harsh as he sprinted through your hometown.

He wouldn’t stop until he knocked on your door, his knuckles aching from how hard he would knock. He’d give anything to go back, even if it was just an extra forty-five minutes. He would run until his lungs burned, his legs barely able to hold himself up. He’d run down the cobbled street the two of you would walk down after a night at Rita’s, leaning against each other for support after a night of drinking.

He’d run past the bakery the two of you would meet at every Thursday morning, splitting pastries between the two of you and gossiping about your friends. He’d run up the stairs to your apartment, running up the steps you two walked thousands of times. He’d stop in front of that green door, the spot you two stood in for your first kiss.

He would knock and knock and knock, his fingers bleeding from how hard his knuckles were hitting the wood. He’d look at you as you opened the door, confused as to who he was and what he was doing there.

“You don’t know me, but in a few days I’m going to run into you at the bookstore. I’ll be with my friend Nesta and she’ll push me into you. She’s never admitted it, but I think she saw how I was staring at you and did it to force me to talk to you.

“You were so pretty, paging through some novel. I owe Nesta everything for pushing me into you, making me fall into the chair you were sitting in. It looked ridiculous - Nesta made sure to let Feyre broadcast it to everyone.

“I never cared. You were everything then, and you’ve been everything to me for over a century. What I wouldn’t give to come back here, to find you earlier, even just forty-five minutes. I’d give anything for more time with you.”

His eyes would peer around the apartment you moved out of decades and decades ago, moving all of your furniture into the house a ten minute walk from here. It would all smell like you, not a trace of him on you yet.

He would beg and plead with any god as to why he deserves just one extra minute of your time.

But he’s not in that apartment that you don’t own anymore, he’s somewhere in the present, he thinks. Azriel’s not sure where he is, but he reaches out towards you, trying to send every ounce of his love down that bridge that connects the two of you. He reaches a hand out, wanting to hold you one last time. He can feel your fear thrumming his chest as your hands frantically apply pressure to his neck, trying desperately to stop the bleeding.

He interrupts your pleas, stroking his fingers on your cheek, smearing his blood across it.

You’re here, he thinks.

He loved making you blush, your own blood changing the color of your cheeks as he flirted with you. Now his own blood was coloring your skin, a last marking of himself on you.

Every word from his mouth caused the blood to gush from his wound, but he didn’t care. He was fighting for every breath, every word. He knew this was the end. He was just grateful to the Mother that the last thing he’d see in this life was you.

He chokes on his blood, coughing exacerbating the wound.

“In every life.”

He pulls himself up, using your shoulders to brace himself. He pulls your lips to his, soft and delicate, as if it’s the first time he’s kissing you all over again. As if you’re back on that cobblestone street, the two of you standing right in front of your door, a mess of limbs and lips.

The blood on his neck is traded for the tie he wore, one that you had complimented him on as you saw him. You had pulled him down to you by his tie, pulling him to your lips.

And now he was pulling himself up to you, a final goodbye.

He pours everything into it, pouring every last bit of himself through the string connecting the two of you, clinging desperately to that connection for every moment.

You kiss him back just as urgently, hands holding his wounds. His mouth is salty as your tears start running into the kiss, your hands sticky and warm with his blood.

Your kisses become more and more urgent as he starts losing energy, your sense of urgency increasing as he starts fading, that golden bridge connecting the two of you not as bright as it was with each passing moment.

You know he stopped kissing you back a moment ago, but you can’t bring yourself to stop. This should be a fairytale and true love’s kiss is enough to bring someone back.

You pull back, moving his face into your neck, unable to let go. You can’t hear anything except the echo of where your bond was, as if it clanged all the way down your body as it disconnected you from him. You feel someone grip your shoulders, desperate to pull you away from your mate. Your sobs are piercing as you tighten your grip on him.

He’s still warm, he can come back. Still warm, he’ll be back. You start rocking with him in your arms, your tears creating tracks in the blood on your face. A body is pressed to your back, large and warm, and large tan hands cover your own on Azriel’s face. You hear slight sounds, you think it might be Cassian, but you’re not sure.

You don’t feel his tears on your neck

All you feel is a deep, gaping hole inside of you where Azriel lives.

Lived.

Your breaths come fast and choppy, and you start jerking in Cassian’s arms, the feeling of him too much, too much. You felt suffocated, your powers boiling within you as his body grows colder.

His shadows slithered over you, several of them still remaining with their master. Their patterns were meant to be soothing, but it wasn’t working. Several of them cloak Azriel in mourning, their usual energetic nature dulled in the aftermath.

The air in the room changes as all the heat is sucked into your body, your skin blazing. It happens so quickly - you feel Cassian pull away from you as someone slides Azriel’s body from yours, somebody else rushing forward and tackling you to the ground. Instead of hitting hard flooring, your head hits grass, your body racing with adrenaline.

You look up to find Rhysand letting go of you before backing up. He has tears down his face, his eyes a muddier shade of violet than before.

“Let it out. Here. Now.”

Your skin is boiling, everything in you desperate for release. All you feel is the tendril of a lone shadow around your ankle as you burn. You can’t hear Rhys’s sobs, only the roaring of the fire as the grass catches the spark.

The next week goes by in a blur. A funeral - one where the town of black wore deep blue to honor your mate’s lifetime of sacrifice. A few shadows remain with you, the only reason you’re able to get through his funeral is with their touch.

“Hey Az.”

The grass is wet with dew, the early morning fog sticking to it. You don’t notice how damp the ground is beneath you as you sit next to him. Your hands grasp the grass next to his grave, the dirt over his grave too fresh for anything to be growing on top of it.

Your fingers thread through the blades, holding tightly, as if you can uproot them and pull him back to the surface, back to you. As if you kept digging you could find that bond nestled within you somewhere.

Your lip wobbles as you try to say something, anything. The various flower arrangements that surround you both speak of how many visitors he’s had.

He would tell you that the bouquet of orange lilies are from Elain, because those are currently in bloom in Day. He would tell you that the arrangement of blue and black came from Rhysand and Feyre, the flowers meaning ‘a great sacrifice’.

You can’t bring yourself to tell him how the world has become duller in his absence, how you hardly eat or bathe, hardly leave your home at all. How Nesta and Feyre take turns visiting you, ensuring you eat and bathe, getting you to move your legs at least once a day.

He’d be disappointed you weren’t taking care of yourself. He’d want you to continue on, despite the unbearable horrors that live in your chest. It felt like your entire ribcage were burst open, your pain and sadness leaking out of every pore for all to see.

Despite the fact that centuries together have led you here, at the end of the road. A road you happily traveled, knowing it would end here eventually.

You’d never regret choosing him, opening yourself up to this inevitable heartache.

You just regret every moment that happens now that he’s gone.

His shadows have followed you to the cemetery, their presence one you’re grateful for. You know they love you, much like Azriel did, and you’ll take any part of him you can cling onto.

You know they’ll leave eventually. No one understood them. Were they sentient beings? Or were they mere whispers of Azriel’s presence, an echo of an echo of his power, disappearing whenever they wish?

You sit, your back leaned against his tombstone, the words “beloved mate” pressing into your back. You moved over, wanting to be as close as possible to him. You don’t much care if the dirt sticks to your skirts. Nuala and Cerridwen won’t say anything to you. They felt his absence too.

You push your hand into the dirt, grasping at it in hopes he’ll grasp your hand back. All you feel are the shadows swarming your fingertips, imitating his soft touch.

-

You lay in your bed, the one that is much too large without your mate. The shadows cloak over you like a blanket, carrying his smell with them.

They missed him too.

You sealed some of Azriel’s clothes away, a magical enchantment that preserved their smell. You were grateful you had the shadows for now, however fleeting their presence may be.

Where Nesta and Feyre helped you bathe, the shadows helped keep your room clean. You stayed in the House of Wind, everyone agreeing you shouldn’t be alone during this time. That was weeks ago, you think.

You’re not really sure.

Time wasn’t moving like it used to anymore. Hours and days pass without your notice, a gray fog hanging over you at all times. You move through the monotony of grief, unaware of your surroundings or how you get anywhere half the time.

You blink and find yourself at his grave.

“It was supposed to be me,” you half yell at the grave marker, your blood getting warmer with your anger.

You hate it. You hate how everything he was, six centuries of a life well-lived, were boiled down to adjectives and monikers.

“Beloved mate.”

“Beloved brother.”

You hated those words, as if that’s all he were. The words don’t tell how he would pick you up when you fell asleep reading and carry you to bed, how he’d help you cheat every time you played cards against Cassian because you laughed so hard whenever he flipped the table, or how his fingers would brush the hair from your face when the two of you cooked dinner every night.

‘Beloved’ is nothing to how your chest felt when he’d come home and see you before he updated Rhysand after being gone so you knew he was okay.

‘Brother’ is not enough to convey how much he loved Rhysand and Cassian, how much love and sacrifice they poured into each other.

“You said I could go first. You promised. And now I’m here, alone, without you. And I don’t- I don’t know how to do it.”

You were yelling, screaming at this slab of granite. You kicked the flowers on the grave, watching them fly through the air as the petals fell.

Yellow for friendship.

“It was supposed to be me! Not you!”

You tug at your hair before you lose all your strength, sinking into the grass covering his grave. Your tears resemble morning dew as they cling to the grass, your knees becoming green with the contact. A few shadows wind through your hair, a few others bring back the bouquet you kicked, placing the flowers back where they were, albeit a bit damaged.

“You’ve never broken a promise before.”

Your voice is weak, the stone in front of you unresponsive to your breakdown.

-

Life moves on. Everyone feels Azriel absence - even Lucien, so full of words is quieter around you. They don’t know how to talk to you anymore, your life becoming more and more hollow as the mating bond in your chest decays, growing into a moldy, decaying thing that turned you rotten.

Why him? Why couldn’t it have been anyone else? Why was it your mate - the one who sacrificed everything all of the time? Why wasn’t it Cassian or Rhysand or any of his spies?

Anyone but him.

You’d do anything.

The days keep moving, the forward progress of time a joke to you. Or perhaps you were the joke to the Mother. You slug through the days, finally able to bathe and dress yourself, but struggling to remember to eat.

Then the voices start.

It’s one soft voice, one you could hear in any lifetime, any world and know who it belonged to. His voice soft as ever delicately telling you to eat, coming and going on the wind around mealtimes.

You listened to it. You could never stay no to him, even if it was just an echo of him living in his shadows.

-

It was well known amongst his family members that Rhysand required his beauty sleep. Eight hours minimum of undisturbed slumber.

Which is why he is tearing through his house on a warpath at whoever is at his door at 2:30 in the morning. He angrily slung on a robe, harshly opening his door, ready to chew out who lay on the other side.

He did not expect to find you, panic stricken, shadows swirling around you.

Your sobs fill his ears, “they won’t stop, Rhys. They keep telling me everything. That Feyre’s asleep, Nyx is asleep and cooing. Cassian’s snoring, Nesta’s awake and brewing tea. They won’t stop.”

You start to collapse, but the shadows hold you up long enough for Rhysand to grab you and bring you in through the threshold.

He places you down on the couch and inspects the shadows swirling around you. He watches them flit about, some moving away, some circling you. He steps on one as it slithers past him, holding it in place.

He looks at you as he grabs the shadow, holding it between his thumb and forefinger, watching it wiggle in his grasp.

“Is this the first time they’ve spoken to you?”

You shake your head no, whispering, “they speak one at a time usually. And not like this.”

His gaze is sympathetic, sitting you on his sofa. “What do they usually say?”

You look down at your shoes, a sense of shyness overcoming you. You pick at your pants, “mostly to eat and take care of myself.”

You hum, remembering, “last week one of them told me Nyx was going to fall, which is how I caught him so quickly.”

Rhys’s eyes are penetrating as he gazes at you, his eyes are a curious shade of violet.

“Can we try something?”

-

Months later, you return home, the black of your clothes hiding the blood soaked within them. You traipse through the foyer, forgetting it was even family game night. Their conversations halt at your appearance. Despite wearing the same colors of the Night Court, the black looks like a deeper shade on you.

Or perhaps the shadows circling you made you look as if you belonged amidst them rather than the fae looking at you.

You nod to Rhys, your only form of communication these days. He nods back, a strained smile on his lips, devastated to watch what you’ve become, grateful he made a pact with Feyre to never continue on without her.

You don’t miss how his hand squeezes her a little too tight.

Your family watches as you step back into the shadows, the darkness consuming you once more. You prefer to stay in them instead of being alone. You linger in their embrace, their consumption of you everything you need, the remnants of Azriel’s scent lingering in this liminal space. You inhale his scent once more, tears stinging your eyes. In the darkness that surrounds you, never knowing where you end or begin, not knowing exactly where in the world you were.

Where nothing and everything existed, floating through your mate’s truest companions, you hear his voice calling to you, the soft tenor of his voice coming from a direction you can’t quite pinpoint.

Or perhaps it was only an echo.

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[eu-nicola]

arranged marriage

sinopsis: After the death of his girlfriend in an accident, Rafe falls into a severe depression. His family offers him a family friend, Arabella, with whom he has always had a bad relationship, to marry him for the good of the family.

warnings: death, arranged marriage, etc

author's note: english is not my first language and this story is very long and it is only the first part

word count: 8647

some labels are not correct

Arabella had always lived a quiet life on the Outer Banks. Her family was very close to the Camerons, and family reunions were a tradition. Since they were little, she and Sarah Cameron had become inseparable. They spent summers together, swimming, exploring the small islands around the coast, or just talking. However, Arabella's relationship with the other brother, Rafe, had always been different.

Rafe Cameron was everything Arabella hated: arrogant, conceited, and with an ego that barely fit in the room. Every time they met at a family reunion or event, their exchanges were cold and tense. They didn't openly insult each other, of course, but the looks and sarcastic comments were constant. The truth is that Rafe also saw her the same way: he thought Arabella was a haughty girl who thought the world revolved around her. Despite everything, they both knew how to behave in front of others. It was a tacit agreement, a sort of silent truce to not cause problems in their families.

Parallel to their tensions, both their lives had continued on their course. Arabella had been dating a boy from the Outer Banks, Matthew, for a year. Matthew was the complete opposite of Rafe: charming, humble, and always ready to make her laugh. He was easy to be with, and their relationship gave her the peace of mind she had always sought. For his part, Rafe had met a young woman a few years ago and, in an unexpected turn, was preparing to marry her. The wedding was the most talked about event on the island. Everyone seemed to be excited, from close families to childhood friends.

Arabella, in particular, couldn't help but joke about it with Sarah. Every time the topic of the wedding came up, she and Sarah used to laugh and say that, once Rafe got married, they could get rid of him once and for all. "Can you imagine?" Sarah said with a laugh, "we'll finally not have to put up with his 'I'm better than all of you' attitude." Arabella smirked, knowing that even though they were joking, a part of her actually believed it would be a relief to not have to deal with Rafe on a regular basis anymore. With the wedding approaching, he'd be busy with his new life, and she could enjoy her days in peace.

One afternoon, while helping Sarah pick out a dress for her brother's wedding, Arabella and Sarah sat on the store's couch, surrounded by fabrics and catalogs. Sarah showed her one of the dresses, and Arabella looked at it, nodding in approval. "It's beautiful, Sarah. You're going to be the prettiest bridesmaid I've ever seen."

"And you? Do you know what you're going to wear yet?" Sarah asked curiously, glancing at her friend out of the corner of her eye.

Arabella let out a soft laugh, crossing her legs as she settled into the couch. "I haven't decided yet, but honestly, I don't care that much. The important thing is that you'll look spectacular and that your brother is finally getting married."

Sarah smiled. "Can you imagine what it'll be like? It'll be weird not having him hanging around the house."

Arabella laughed, nodding again. "Exactly. It's like he always has to remind us that he's Rafe Cameron, as if we could ever forget." She paused, leaning forward. “Speaking of which, how is everything going with him and his fiancée? Do they have everything ready yet?”

Sarah sighed. “Mostly everything. I won’t lie to you, though, there have been tense moments. You know how my brother is. Everything has to be perfect for him, and his fiancée seems to be the same way. It’s like two perfectionists have met, which should be a good thing, but… sometimes I think they’re going crazy with the details.”

Arabella nodded, imagining Rafe being picky about every little aspect of the wedding. “I can see that. He’s probably checking every flower, every napkin, to make sure everything is up to par.”

“Exactly,” Sarah said, laughing. “But, well, it’ll be a wedding everyone will remember, for better or worse.”

The days leading up to the wedding were complete chaos. Arabella had anticipated it, but nothing could prepare her for the magnitude of the storm that was brewing. Between last-minute meetings, planning details, and the endless list of tasks Sarah had set out to complete, they were both swept up in a maelstrom of stress. Rafe, of course, was at the center of it all, making sure every aspect of the ceremony and reception was flawless. It was nearly impossible to see him without a worried or annoyed expression on his face, which, to Arabella, was a normal occurrence for him.

Despite everything, Arabella tried to stay out of the way. She reminded herself that this wasn't her wedding, and that no matter how much everything got out of hand, the best thing she could do was stay calm, help Sarah when necessary, and avoid Rafe as much as possible. But things didn't always go as planned. During the days leading up to it, she was forced to cross paths with Rafe more times than she would have liked. Every time she saw him, he was arguing with someone: an organizer, a caterer, or even his own sister.

The wedding day finally arrived, bringing with it a mix of emotions. The Cameron household was bustling early, with servants and family members running back and forth to make sure everything was ready. Arabella had slept there the night before, as part of tradition. Sarah had convinced her that it would be easier to get ready together from the Cameron household. They had both thought they would get ready with the bride, as was customary for close friends and family of the couple. However, that expectation was quickly dashed.

At the last minute, Rafe's fiancée had decided that she preferred to get ready elsewhere, alongside her mother and some members of her family. Not only that, but neither Arabella nor Sarah had been invited to join them. It was a clear sign of distancing, and although Sarah tried to hide her irritation, Arabella noticed how she clenched her jaw at the news.

Arabella, for her part, considered it disrespectful. Wasn't Sarah Rafe's sister? And hadn't she, Arabella, been by Sarah's side all these years, sharing every important moment in the Camerons' lives? She tried to ignore the small flicker of anger that was beginning to form inside her. There was no point in making a scene over something so trivial. Besides, she had Sarah, and the two of them could turn any awkward situation into something fun. If the bride didn't want them there, then they would enjoy getting ready on their own.

“Can you believe it?” Sarah said, slamming the bedroom door shut as they entered. “He didn’t even tell me directly, can you imagine?”

Arabella, sitting on the edge of the bed, shrugged. “Truth be told, I was expecting it. He doesn’t seem like the kind of person who wants to share his day with us. At the end of the day, it’s his wedding, and he can do whatever he wants.”

Sarah let out a sarcastic laugh as she sat down in front of the mirror. “Yeah, sure. But I’m his future sister-in-law. And you’re my best friend. I don’t know, he just seems… cold.”

“Well, better for us,” Arabella said, getting up to find her dress. “At least we won’t have to pretend to like his every comment and smile all the time. We’ll get ready together, like always.”

Sarah let out a sigh and looked at herself in the mirror. "You're right. But it still bothers me. Anyway, let her get ready by herself. Today's all about my brother getting married and I honestly want this all to be over with."

Arabella laughed softly, patting him on the shoulder before starting to change. The sun's rays streamed through the curtains, illuminating the room in a warm, golden light. Although they were annoyed by the bride's lack of consideration, there was something almost magical about those moments.

As they both got ready, the silence was filled with soft murmurs and occasional laughter. Sarah tried to comb her hair while talking non-stop about how chaotic everything had been, and Arabella, who had already finished getting dressed, helped her with some details. It seemed like the small frustrations of the day were being left behind.

As Arabella and Sarah got ready in the bedroom, chaos quickly took over the house. The screams and constant movement of people running through the halls soon interrupted the calm that had prevailed only a few minutes before. Arabella, who was finishing adjusting her dress in front of the mirror, frowned as she noticed the growing sense of anxiety that was beginning to fill the air.

“What’s going on?” Sarah asked, glancing out the window and then back to the door. The door to her room opened and closed frequently, but no one stopped to give them an explanation. Servants walked back and forth with tense faces, exchanging hurried whispers. The two friends began to grow restless.

Arabella stood up, smoothing out the folds of her dress as she walked to the door. “I’ll ask. This is already too weird.” Sarah nodded, following closely behind. They both stepped out into the hallway, hoping to find someone who could tell them what was going on. But every time they tried to stop someone, the employees avoided their gaze, mumbled apologies, and walked on, as if they were under strict orders not to say anything.

Nerves began to set in at Arabella’s stomach. The laughter and conversation that should be filling the house on a wedding day had turned into tense whispers and palpable nervousness. They tried to approach various people, but the answers were always vague, almost as if no one knew what to say or how to handle the situation.

Sarah, for her part, was starting to lose patience. “Is someone going to tell us what’s going on?!” she exclaimed, glaring at one of the servants who hurried past without stopping.

Their frustration grew by the second. Finally, they decided to try something more daring: approach Rafe’s room. They knew he must be getting ready there, and although they didn’t feel like facing him in the middle of a possible disaster, they couldn’t stand to be in the dark any longer.

The atmosphere around Rafe’s room was even stranger. The door was closed, but people passing by avoided looking at it as if they feared what was happening inside. Arabella and Sarah stopped in front of it, exchanging glances. Sarah, frowning, took a step towards the door, but before she could knock, a muffled scream came from someone behind them.

“No! Don’t go in there,” one of the women working in the house said, quickly approaching with a look of pure panic on her face.

Arabella crossed her arms, facing the woman with a mix of confusion and impatience. “What’s going on? No one’s telling us anything.”

The woman hesitated, nervously glancing at Rafe’s bedroom door before looking down. She seemed to be torn between what she should do and what she was supposed to keep secret.

“It’s… it’s the bride,” she finally murmured, her voice shaking. “She… she had an accident. On the way to church.”

Arabella’s world stopped for a second. Her brain was slow to process what she had just heard. Beside her, Sarah let out a soft gasp, her face paling.

“An accident?” Arabella repeated, trying to understand. “Is… is she okay?”

The woman looked down even further, unable to hold her eyes. “No… he didn’t survive,” she whispered.

The silence that followed was deafening. Arabella felt the room around her seem to fade away, her mind caught up in the brutality of that simple sentence. Rafe’s girlfriend, the woman he was set to marry in a matter of hours, was dead. There was no softening that reality. Arabella slowly turned her head to Sarah, who had stood frozen, her eyes filled with shock and horror.

“What…?” Sarah stammered, bringing a shaking hand to her mouth. “How… how did it happen?”

The woman, clearly uncomfortable and distraught, tried to explain. “It… it was a car accident. The car he was in lost control. He died instantly, we were told.”

Rafe’s life, as arrogant as he was, had just changed forever.

Before they could fully process what they had just heard, the silence of the hallway was suddenly broken by a crash coming from Rafe’s room. Both friends turned sharply toward the door, their hearts pounding.

The noise continued: something heavy had fallen, followed by a thud, and then more sounds of things breaking. It seemed like everything inside the room was falling apart. Arabella and Sarah exchanged a panicked glance, and in that instant they knew Rafe had heard.

"No," Sarah whispered, bringing a hand to her chest as she took a step toward the door, as if she wanted to enter.

Arabella grabbed her arm, stopping her. "Don't go in," she said quietly. She knew the last thing Rafe needed right now was for someone to see him in the midst of his pain.

The noises inside the room continued: more glass breaking, furniture being dragged or overturned, and the occasional muffled scream that could barely be heard. It was as if everything Rafe had held in for days, weeks, or maybe even years was finally coming out in the worst possible way. Arabella could imagine him throwing objects at the walls, taking out his fury, his pain, and his helplessness on anything that could be broken.

Arabella nodded slowly. She knew that the day they had joked about “getting rid of Rafe” once she was married seemed far away now. All that was left was unimaginable tragedy.

The day of the funeral arrived with a heavy, oppressive air enveloping the Cameron household like a suffocating blanket. From the moment the news of Rafe's fiancée's death had hit their lives, the atmosphere in the house had changed. Everyone, from the servants to the family members themselves, walked with a caution that had not been seen before. Arabella had hoped that the funeral would be the moment when, finally, everyone could begin to process what had happened. However, that day only brought more bewilderment.

At breakfast, Ward Cameron had summoned the entire family into the dining room. It was a strange scene: the sun shone softly through the windows, illuminating the table covered with plates of food that no one had any intention of touching. Arabella sat next to Sarah, both silent, waiting for Ward's words, who remained standing at the end of the table, a stern expression on his face.

When he finally spoke, his tone was cold and authoritative. “No one from this family will be attending the funeral,” he announced, his voice cutting through the air like a knife.

Arabella blinked, shocked by what she had just heard. She glanced sideways at Sarah, expecting her friend to protest, but she was motionless, her gaze fixed on her plate, her hands clenched in her lap. There were no murmurs of disagreement, no attempts to debate the decision. The silence was absolute.

Ward continued, as if he had not expected anyone to question him. “It is a tragedy what has happened, but it is not wise for us to be there. The family of… the deceased,” he said, pausing before mentioning Rafe’s fiancée, as if he could not bear to say her name, “can handle the funeral. We need not involve ourselves further in this matter.”

Arabella felt a wave of disbelief run through her body. How could she say such a thing? Her son’s fiancée had died tragically, and now they intended to simply ignore the funeral. It was inhuman. Yet the coldness with which Ward spoke made it clear that he was not willing to argue. To him, this was a matter of convenience, of avoiding further unwanted attention.

“This includes Arabella,” Ward added, giving her a brief but firm look. “You are part of our family and on this occasion, it is best that you follow our decision.”

Arabella felt a pang in her chest, but said nothing. This was not the time to challenge Ward’s authority, not when everyone was so tense.

Sarah, who had remained silent until this moment, finally spoke, though her voice was barely a whisper. “And Rafe?” she asked, her eyes lowered, as if she could not bear the answer.

Ward set his jaw. “Rafe won’t be attending. He’s not fit.” The way he said it made it clear that Rafe’s “condition” wasn’t something he was proud of.

Arabella knew what that meant. From the moment he’d learned of his fiancée’s death, Rafe had disappeared into a self-destructive cycle. Empty bottles piled up in his room, and servants whispered that they’d seen him with bloodshot eyes, walking the halls like a ghost. He was doing everything he could to avoid the pain, drowning himself in drink and other things to escape reality. He hadn’t bothered to see anyone or face what had happened. The funeral, of course, wasn’t an option for him. Not when his only concern was evading everything that made him feel vulnerable.

The weeks following the funeral were like a minefield in the lives of everyone around Rafe. There was no talk of the accident, or of Rafe’s fiancée. It was as if his name had been erased from everyone's memory. However, the absence of words did not mean that the pain had disappeared.

Arabella watched everything with a mixture of uneasiness and curiosity. She had grown accustomed to the rhythms of the Cameron family, to their coldness and the way they solved their problems without ever talking about them, but this time, the pressure was different. Something in the air indicated that, although Rafe had begun to get his life back on track, something had broken inside him that would never be the same again.

At first, Rafe had disappeared completely. He did not come down to meals, he was not seen at family gatherings, and the few times Arabella saw him around the house, he would stare blankly, walking like a shadow of the arrogant man she knew. But little by little, that changed. The nights when he would lock himself in his room with bottles of whiskey began to diminish, and, slowly, he began to appear again at social gatherings, resuming his place as the Prince Kook of always.

The first few days Rafe went out with his friends again, Arabella felt a kind of relief. She would watch him walk around the house with that same confidence that had always characterized him, his face unwavering as if nothing could disturb him. It was almost as if the tragedy had never happened. On the surface, Rafe was the same: the Camerons' golden son, the man who could have it all. He was seen with his old friends at clubs, sailing along the coast in his boat, and organizing parties that brought the hustle and bustle back to the quiet Outer Banks neighborhood.

But everyone knew that something in him had changed.

Sarah, who used to be the first to joke about her brother, now kept quiet when he was around. Sometimes, when Rafe walked past her and Arabella with his confident smile and sarcastic remarks, Sarah would just glance at him out of the corner of her eye, as if she expected the old Rafe, the one who laughed carefree at everything, to return at any moment. However, the silence that followed his words was almost unbearable, as if everyone knew that behind that mask of confidence there was something broken that had not yet healed.

One night, while Arabella and Sarah were in the living room of the Cameron house, Rafe walked in, fresh from one of his outings with the boys. His white shirt was open at the collar, and he smelled of alcohol and tobacco. However, his posture was as impeccable as ever.

"What, you're not going to say anything? Did you miss me?" Rafe threw the question into the air, with a lopsided smile that didn't reach his eyes. Sarah faked a laugh as Arabella watched him intently, noticing the details no one else saw: the slight tremor in his hands, the dull gleam in his eyes.

"You were quieter the last time I saw you," Arabella commented in a neutral tone, trying to test the waters. She knew that any comment that was too direct could be a bombshell for Rafe in this state.

He let out a short, hollow laugh, shrugging as he took a drink from the nearby cabinet. "Quiet? No, I was just... thinking about other things."

The weeks continued and Rafe was completely back to his usual routine. He began training and spending time with his friends. He seemed to have regained his place as the charismatic leader everyone admired and feared at the same time.

While to many everything seemed to be back to normal, in Ward's mind, the situation couldn't be further from that. The dream of seeing his son married, establishing a life of success and responsibility, was something he wasn't willing to give up, even after the tragedy. He knew that in order to maintain the Camerons' position at the top, Rafe needed to have a suitable wife at his side. The death of his young fiancée had only been a temporary obstacle in that plan.

Ward watched his son with a frown, aware that Rafe had returned to his old life, but without the purpose he believed necessary. Going out every night, surrounding himself with superficial friends, and getting drunk were not behaviors worthy of a Cameron with the responsibilities that corresponded to him. No, Rafe had to leave that life behind, and as soon as possible.

For several weeks, Ward had been looking around, evaluating options. The Camerons' social circle was extensive, but he couldn't just choose any woman. No, whoever married Rafe had to be someone suitable, someone who could not only handle his son's complex personality, but also bring respect and stability with her. But, as much as he searched among the young women of high society, he couldn't help but return to an idea that slowly began to grow in his mind.

Arabella.

He had known her forever, just like his family. She was someone he could trust. A strong, loyal young woman, and above all, someone who was already close to Rafe. Although their relationship had been strained over the years, Ward couldn't ignore that, of all the people in his environment, Arabella was the only one who had always been there, even in the darkest times. Perhaps, Ward thought, she could be the key to getting Rafe out of the abyss he was in, even if he didn't know it yet.

One night, as Ward was going through some paperwork in his office, that idea finally took shape. He closed the folder in front of him and leaned back in his chair, pondering what he had to do. He knew Rafe wouldn't take the suggestion well, not in his current state, but that had never stopped Ward before. It was his duty, as a father, to guide his son, even if Rafe didn't understand it.

Convinced that Arabella would be the ideal wife for Rafe, Ward decided to act. The next morning, he called Rose into his office and explained his plan. Rose, though initially surprised, didn't argue. She knew how her husband's mind worked and had learned not to question his decisions, especially when it came to Rafe.

"What about Arabella?" Rose asked, one eyebrow raised. "Don't you think she should have some say in the matter?"

Ward let out a dry laugh. "Arabella is a smart girl. She knows what's best for her family. And this is best for everyone."

Rose didn't answer, but a hint of doubt crossed her face. However, she left the subject up to her husband.

It was a few days before Ward decided to bring up the idea with Rafe. It wasn't an easy subject to broach, and his son was still dealing with the weight of loss, though he tried to disguise it behind his cocky smiles and carefree demeanor. He knew he would have to pick the right time.

The day came on a quiet afternoon. Rafe was in his father's office, going through some paperwork related to the family business, when Ward seized the opportunity. He looked at him from his desk, analyzing his expression, searching for a sign of an opening.

"Son," Ward began in his usual authoritative tone, "it's time for you to think about the future."

Rafe didn't look up from the papers. "What do you mean?" His voice was casual, but Ward noticed the tension in his shoulders.

"You know what I mean. We've talked about it before. You need stability. It's time for you to get married."

Rafe set the papers down on the table, his cold, disinterested eyes meeting his father's. "I thought that subject was closed. You know what happened."

Ward didn't flinch. "What happened was tragic, but it doesn't change the fact that you need a wife. Someone to help you build your life, settle down."

Rafe let out a bitter laugh, leaning back in his chair. “And who am I supposed to find now? Another girl who is willing to put up with me? I don’t think so.”

“I’ve already thought about that,” Ward said firmly, ignoring his son’s sarcastic tone. “And I think the answer has been in front of us all along.”

Rafe frowned, visibly irritated. “What are you talking about?”

“Arabella,” Ward said finally, dropping the bombshell.

Rafe fell silent, his face turning from confusion to disbelief. “Arabella? Are you kidding? Why her?”

Ward kept his gaze fixed on his son, his voice calm but full of authority. “Because she is a good young woman. She is trustworthy, we have known her forever, and she would be a good wife for you. It is not an absurd proposition, Rafe. It makes sense.”

Rafe stood up from his chair, his movements abrupt, visibly angry. "No, there's no point. I haven't even thought about getting married again, let alone to Arabella. I'm not going to."

"You will if it's what's best for the family," Ward replied coldly. "And this is what's best for you too, even if you don't see it now."

Rafe glared at him with fury in his eyes, but he knew arguing with his father was pointless. Ward always got what he wanted, one way or another. But this time, Rafe wasn't going to give in so easily.

Without another word, he walked out of the office, leaving Ward alone, pondering what had just happened. He knew his son wouldn't accept him right away, but he didn't need him to. As always, Ward had a plan. And sooner or later, Rafe would understand that Arabella was the right choice.

However, Arabella had no idea what was to come.

Arabella was in the living room with Sarah, laughing at one of the Kooks' absurd stories when Ward suddenly appeared in the doorway. His face was serious in a way that didn't go unnoticed by either of them, and Arabella felt the air grow heavy. Sarah, who knew that expression on her father all too well, fell silent.

"Arabella, can you come to my office? I need to talk to you in private," Ward said in his usual tone, one that left no room for questions.

Arabella exchanged a glance with Sarah, who gave her a small nod of support before she stood up from the chair. Although it seemed strange to her, there was no reason to hesitate, so she followed him. As she walked through the halls towards the office, a slight nervousness settled in her chest.

When she reached the office, the door was already ajar. Ward entered first and Arabella followed, but what she didn't expect was to see Rafe sitting in one of the chairs, arms crossed and a tense expression on his face. The atmosphere was thick, and she immediately knew that this was not just any conversation. Something was wrong.

Arabella frowned and, despite her discomfort, walked over to the free chair. She sat down stiffly, looking from Ward to Rafe, waiting for some explanation. The silence in the room was almost oppressive, until Ward decided to speak.

"I've been thinking a lot about your future, Arabella," Ward began, his tone trying to sound understanding. "And I think that, after everything that's happened, it's time for Rafe to move on. And since you both need stability, I think there's a solution that will be beneficial for everyone."

Arabella looked at him in confusion, her brain slowly processing his words. "What... what do you mean by that?" she asked, unsure of where he was going with this.

Ward paused, as if trying to find the right words, though his tone remained firm. "I think it would be best for both of you to get married."

Arabella froze. She looked at Rafe, expecting to see a reaction of surprise or disagreement, but he just watched her with a distant expression. She looked back at Ward, expecting there to be some misunderstanding. "I don't understand..." she stammered, trying to clarify what she had just heard. "Marry Rafe? That doesn't make sense."

Ward, ever calm, folded his hands on his desk. "It makes perfect sense. With his fiancée dead, and your family starting to look for a husband for you, Rafe is the best choice. You already know each other, your parents trust our family, and this would ensure the stability you both need."

"No, this can't be!" Arabella stood up from her seat, her heart pounding. "I don't want to marry Rafe. This doesn't make sense. We're not... we don't get along!" She looked at Rafe for some sign of support, but he just watched her silently, his dark eyes reflecting resignation.

Rafe finally spoke, his voice low but laden with a strange mix of resignation and mockery. “Don’t resist, Arabella. There’s no escape for any of us.”

Arabella stared at him in disbelief. “What are you talking about? This doesn’t have to happen. I don’t… I don’t want this, Rafe. It doesn’t make any sense.”

Ward slowly rose from his seat and walked around his desk, approaching Arabella with calculated steps. “I understand that you’re shocked, but believe me, it’s what’s best for you. Your family is already starting to look for a good match for you, and what I’m offering is the best option. You won’t have to marry a stranger, you won’t have to fear for your future. Rafe will be a good husband for you.”

Arabella took a step back, shaking her head, fear and frustration invading every fiber of her being. “No, Ward. I can’t do this. I don’t want to.”

Ward looked at her with a mix of patience and determination. "I know you think you can run away from this situation, but you can't. Your family is already considering alternatives, and if you don't accept, there will be other decisions you won't like. This is for the best, Arabella. For you, for Rafe, for our families."

Arabella's mind raced, trying to find a way out. But every word Ward said caged her further in. She knew she didn't have much choice. If her family was already involved in the arrangements, she wouldn't have much room to maneuver. And Ward... Ward wasn't a man to take 'no' for an answer.

She took a deep breath, trying to hold back the tears that threatened to fall. Frustration, fear, and despair washed over her, but deep down she knew there was no way out. This was the reality she was in, and she couldn't change it.

After the conversation with Ward and Rafe, the tension between him and Arabella had grown almost unbearable. They could barely be in the same room without feeling an overwhelming pressure in the air. Before, even though they didn't get along, they could at least maintain a polite conversation, but now not even that. Arabella avoided any encounter with him, aware that she was trapped in a situation from which there was no escape. The very idea of ​​marrying Rafe, of sharing a life together, was overwhelming, almost claustrophobic.

Every time she thought about the wedding, she felt a mixture of frustration and resignation. Sarah, however, seemed to be delighted with the idea of ​​organizing the event. She was more than willing to take care of every detail, from the flowers to the dress. Sarah tried to cheer Arabella up, but even with her enthusiasm, it was clear that her friend knew that things were not right.

One afternoon, as the sun filtered through the windows of Arabella's room, Sarah entered without knocking, as she always did, and found her sitting on the edge of the bed, staring into a corner of the room. Arabella's expression was blank, as if she were trapped in her own thoughts, absent from the world around her.

"Hey, Bells," Sarah said softly, closing the door behind her. "How are you feeling?"

Arabella looked up and forced a smile, but Sarah knew her too well to believe that gesture. She sat down beside her on the bed, taking Arabella's hand lovingly.

"You know you don't have to pretend with me," Sarah continued. "I know this isn't what you want."

Arabella sighed deeply, letting out all the air she had been holding. She knew Sarah wouldn't judge her, that she could speak to her with complete honesty. "I don't want to marry him, Sarah," she admitted, her voice breaking. "I never wanted this. And now... I'm trapped. I have no choice."

Sarah squeezed her hand, as if with that gesture she could transfer some of her strength to her. "I know. This isn't fair."

Arabella lowered her head, her eyes beginning to fill with tears that she struggled to hold back. "It's just... even the thought of having kids with him terrifies me. I don't see myself building a family with Rafe. I don't see myself sharing my life like that. This whole thing... is a nightmare."

Sarah looked at her, feeling her friend's anguish as if it were her own. "Bells, I'm here with you. Always. No matter what happens, you're not going to face this alone."

Arabella smiled weakly, grateful for Sarah's words, though the fear was still present. "Thank you, Sar. You're the only reason I haven't gone crazy over all of this yet."

Sarah gave her a small push on the shoulder, trying to ease the tension of the moment. "Hey, you can't tell me that planning a wedding with me doesn't have its fun side, right?"

Arabella laughed through her tears. "Yeah, right, 'fun' is exactly the word I would use to describe this."

Sarah smiled back, though she knew there was little she could do to ease the weight her friend was carrying. "This is all bullshit, I'm not going to lie to you. But no matter what happens, I'll be with you every step of the way. And if you need to run away, I'll help you escape. I know a guy who has a boat."

Arabella laughed, louder this time, imagining the absurd scene Sarah was describing. "It's good to know you have an escape plan ready."

Sarah's humor always managed to calm her down a bit.

Sarah, despite her unconditional support, felt the frustration of not being able to do more. She wanted to free Arabella from this situation, but she also knew that her family, her father in particular, was an impossible obstacle to overcome. So, as the wedding progressed, the only thing she could offer was her company, her loyalty, and a firm hand in the darkest moments.

It wasn't long before the wedding planning was set in motion. The Cameron machinery, with its unlimited power and resources, made everything happen surprisingly quickly. Arabella watched with resignation as the planning took shape almost overnight. Dozens of people were involved, each responsible for a specific detail: the flowers, the music, the decorations. Everything was being managed with surgical precision, as if the fact that she and Rafe could barely stand each other was irrelevant.

Chaos reigned in the house. Employees were running around, phones were ringing off the hook, and vendors were constantly visiting. Arabella couldn't believe how everyone seemed to be so excited about a wedding that, for her, represented the end of any hope of controlling her own destiny.

However, in the midst of the chaos, a problem arose unexpectedly: the family of Rafe's ex-fiancée showed up, outraged by how quickly the Camerons had decided to go ahead. It couldn't be any other way, Arabella thought. The news that Rafe was getting married again had reached them, and it hadn't gone down well with them.

One morning, as Arabella sat in the kitchen drinking tea, she heard the commotion from the hall. The angry voices of the ex-fiancée's parents filled the house, and through the half-open door she could hear the dead girl's mother accusing Ward and the entire Cameron family of being insensitive and heartless. "It's disrespectful to our daughter's memory!" the woman screamed, her eyes filled with tears. "It's barely been a while since she died, and you're already planning another wedding as if it meant nothing to you!"

Arabella felt a knot in her stomach as she listened. She couldn't help but feel bad for them. Although she hadn't been close to Rafe's ex-fiancée, she knew that the young woman had been loved by her family. And now, here they were, protesting what they felt was a betrayal.

Ward, for his part, showed not a hint of remorse. With his usual coldness, he assured them that this was all for the best for both families, and that there was nothing they could do to change it. "We deeply regret your loss," he said in a calculated, distant tone, "but life goes on. Rafe needs a wife, and this wedding is the solution."

The ex-fiancée's parents were not intimidated. “This is disgusting! There hasn’t even been enough time to grieve properly! And you’re already pushing your son into another wedding!”

Arabella felt the awkwardness building, but Ward seemed to have it all under control. That’s when he made his masterstroke. He offered them a considerable sum of money, with the promise that they would never speak of it again. Silence fell over the room as the ex-fiancée’s parents stared at Ward, stunned. But money solved everything in their world, and little by little, the family’s resistance crumbled. After one last hate-filled look, they left, accepting the implicit deal Ward had offered them.

Arabella, from the kitchen, watched silently as Ward waved them off without blinking. The contrast between his sincere grief and Ward’s icy pragmatism left her even more empty. She knew that at that moment, any chance of her wedding being delayed or even cancelled was gone. Everything was already underway, and no one—not even the deceased's family—could stop it.

When it was all over, Ward returned to the living room with a calm that bordered on the eerie. As if nothing had happened, he met with some of the organizers to discuss last-minute details, completely ignoring the spectacle that had just taken place.

Arabella slowly got up from the table and left the kitchen, trying not to think too much about what she had just witnessed. She knew that in the Cameron world, feelings always took second place to appearances and power.

The wedding day arrived quicker than Arabella could have imagined. Every step in the organization had passed like a whirlwind, and despite her inner resistance, everything had come together with astonishing precision. The Cameron home was decorated in dazzling fashion, as if the event were a celebration fit for royalty. White flowers hung in every corner, chandeliers sparkled, and the golden light of dusk filtered through the windows, adding an almost ethereal glow to the scene.

Arabella was in her room, surrounded by bridesmaids and stylists, as she prepared for the most important day of her life—or at least, the most forced. Sarah was by her side, adjusting the last details of the dress and making sure her friend didn’t fall apart before the ceremony.

Arabella’s dress was something everyone would talk about. The dress was made of a sheer, almost second-skin-like fabric that hinted at more than it covered, though the lace details gave it an air of elegance, both delicate and sensual. Each thread of lace had been strategically placed to create the illusion that the fabric was gliding smoothly over her figure, covering just enough but still revealing the shape of her body in a subtle way. The plunging neckline at the back and the embroidered details on the long sleeves made the dress sophisticated, yet bold.

The skirt flared slightly as it went down, lending an air of grace to her every move. But the real center of attention was the veil. Long and airy, the veil almost floated behind her, like a cloud of lace that seemed to have no end. It fell from a simple silver tiara that held her hair in loose waves, giving her an angelic appearance, but in her mind, it didn't feel that way at all.

Arabella looked at herself in the mirror, and for a moment she didn't recognize herself. The woman staring back at her was everything the world expected of her: perfect, beautiful, untouchable. But beneath that facade, all she felt was a mix of anguish and resignation. The dress might be the most stunning one she had ever worn, but she couldn't enjoy it knowing what it represented.

"You look gorgeous, Bells," Sarah said, trying to cheer her up as she finished adjusting the veil. "I know it's not what you want most, but at least, today you'll be the most beautiful bride of all."

Arabella gave her a weak smile in gratitude. She knew Sarah was trying to do her best in such a difficult situation, but that didn't ease the weight she felt in her chest. "Thank you, Sar. I really don't know what I would do without you."

The bustle outside intensified as the guests arrived. The murmurs, the sound of musicians tuning their instruments, all blended together in a distant echo as Arabella tried to focus on the present. She knew Rafe was somewhere in the house, probably getting ready as well, though she had no idea how he felt.

As she was being helped into her veil, she heard the door open behind her. Her father entered, dressed impeccably for the occasion. He looked at her with tacit approval in his gaze, as if she were a masterpiece he had created and was now displaying to the world. "You look perfect, daughter. I couldn't have imagined a better match for Rafe."

She swallowed hard, unable to find the words to respond. She didn't want to be the "perfect match," but she knew protesting at that moment wouldn't change anything.

"It's time for us to go downstairs," her father said, offering his arm to walk her to the ceremony site. Arabella took a deep breath and took his arm, feeling like she was giving up a part of herself with every step she took toward the wedding.

The garden where the ceremony would take place was a spectacle in itself. White flowers adorned the entrance arches, and the guests were seated in perfectly aligned rows, all waiting to see the bride. The sun was beginning to set, lighting up the sky with golden and pink hues, adding an almost magical touch to the setting.

In the distance, Arabella saw Rafe waiting for her at the altar, with his usual serious and impenetrable expression. Dressed in an elegant black suit. There was no emotion on his face, as if he were fulfilling one more task, another obligation imposed by his father and by the world around them.

With each step she took towards him, Arabella felt the distance between them grow, not physically, but emotionally. They were both on the verge of joining their lives, but they had never been further from each other. When she finally reached the altar, Rafe offered her his hand without saying a word, and the silence between them was more eloquent than any promise they could exchange.

The ceremony was brief. Arabella could barely process what was happening as the priest spoke the words, whispering the promises she and Rafe were to exchange. Their voices were barely audible, a distant echo amidst the murmur of the crowd. It all felt unreal, as if she were watching her own wedding from outside her body. The cold ring Rafe slipped onto her finger was the only tangible thing amidst the fog clouding her thoughts.

Once the vows were concluded, the guests stood up, applauding with a mix of enthusiasm and protocol, celebrating the union. Fake smiles and gestures were what they had expected of her, and though her stomach was churning, she reciprocated with weak smiles.

The transition to dinner and the party was almost immediate. The organizers moved with precision, guiding the guests towards the large tent decorated with lights and flowers, where the tables were impeccably set. Arabella and Rafe were led to the main table, seated like a royal couple under the watchful gaze of all the attendees. Rafe was at her side, but there was no contact, not even a word. All between them was silence and distance.

The dinner passed in the blink of an eye. Waiters paraded around with carefully prepared dishes, and champagne glasses were raised again and again in endless toasts. Arabella tried to keep her composure, but with each toast, she felt the tension in her chest grow. She knew what was coming next. The dance.

When the time came, the music began to play softly and the lights dimmed. Arabella felt her body tense as Rafe took her by the waist, his cold hands on her body.

The music started, and the two of them moved gracefully, but without a hint of connection. Arabella followed the steps as if it were a memorized choreography, feeling the pressure of each guest's gaze. She knew that everyone present was paying attention to them. Rafe's touch on her skin did not provoke the typical nervousness of a bride at her wedding, but a mixture of resentment and despair.

When the dance finally ended, applause filled the room. Arabella let out a sigh of relief. At least that part was over. But what came next weighed even more on her mind: the wedding night. She couldn't stop thinking about what awaited her at the end of the night, and although she tried to convince herself that everything would pass quickly, fear and uncertainty consumed her.

The party continued, but Arabella barely participated. She smiled when she should have, exchanged a few words with the guests, and accepted compliments about her dress and the beauty of the ceremony, but every minute that passed brought her closer to the inevitable.

Finally, the night came to an end. The guests began to leave, and the Cameron house fell back into a sort of calm after the bustle. Arabella and Rafe were escorted to their new room, a luxuriously decorated suite within the Cameron family home. Everything was perfect in the eyes of others, but to her, the silence of that room felt like a prison.

Arabella sat on the edge of the bed, her dress still clinging to her body, feeling the weight of the moment. She was alone with Rafe, and although they had been cold to each other for weeks, the intimacy that being in that room entailed made her feel even more vulnerable.

Rafe stood near the window, looking out. The silence between them was awkward, but Arabella was too nervous to break it. Finally, it was he who spoke, his voice low and sharp.

“I’m not going to touch you, Arabella,” he said without looking at her.

The words hit her with an unexpected harshness. Arabella felt her body tense, her hands tightening on the edge of the bed. It wasn’t what she had expected to hear, but at the same time, it wasn’t a surprise either. Part of her should have been relieved by Rafe’s confession, by the idea of ​​not having to endure this forced intimacy. But instead of relief, what she felt was something far more painful: rejection.

“I don’t want to make this any harder than it already is. But don’t flatter yourself. This is what it is. A farce,” Rafe continued, his voice laced with contempt.

Arabella swallowed, trying not to show how bad those words made her feel. She was supposed to feel happy that she didn't have to endure a wedding night with a man she didn't want, but instead, Rafe's contempt cut right through her. There was something in his tone, in the way he looked at her, that made her feel small, unwanted. For a moment, she wished he had ignored her instead of attacking her so coldly.

Without another word, Rafe left the room, slamming the door shut. Arabella was left alone, sitting on the bed, surrounded by the opulence of the room she now shared with him. The moon shone faintly through the curtains, and the silence grew heavier.

She was supposed to feel relieved, but the opposite was true. She felt an immense emptiness, a loneliness that enveloped her completely. Tears began to fill her eyes, but she refused to cry. This was not the time to show weakness, even though every part of her felt broken.

Arabella slowly stood up, carefully removing her dress, letting it fall to the floor in a heap of lace and silk. She sat on the bed, hugging herself as the chill of the room took over her body. This was not the life she had imagined, and though she had never wanted to be married to Rafe, the feeling of being rejected in such a brutal way hurt her deeply.

[wnbnny]

we can't be friends - l.mh

genre: idol!minho x reader, lovers to exes to lovers

tw: angst, hurt, breaking up, erasing of memories (almost) , mutual pining, did i mention angst, reader is kinda depressed, like two kisses ig

status: delivered !

word count: 4.0k

author's note: aaaa omd it's finally done >< reblogs + likes are appreciated!!

lee minho. your muse, your life, your heart.

he broke your heart one stormy sunday night and you hated him as you watched him leave with tears in both of your eyes.

granted, he did break your heart for your own good, to save you from the dangers of being with him. but you didn't care, not when he was your universe, your world. you would gladly take a bullet for him.

just as he would take a bullet for you.

minho knew leaving would break you, just as much as it would break him, but he needed to do it. life as an idol was already dangerous enough with all the death threats and saesangs, but the moment 'fans' caught even the slightest whiff of you they would hunt you down and hurt you, and minho simply couldn't let that happen. he knew you wouldn't care about all the danger as long as you were with him, but he did. minho would never forgive himself if something happened to you all because he had given in to his innermost wants and kept you by his side.

so he left.

november 8th, 2019, 8.46 pm.

"i want to break up." he said, one sunday night. the rain was pouring outside, flashes of thunder and lightning ringing through the sky occasionally. in the quiet and comfort of your shared apartment, with the dim glow of lamps illuminating your features, in that moment, for a split second, minho wanted to stay. he wanted to pretend everything was alright, to have you stay by his side and be happy together, but he knew he shouldn't. the two of you were eating dinner, sitting at the small round dining table in your kitchen tucking into your homemade kimchi stew. god, he would miss your kimchi stew, he thought miserably. 

"what?" your world felt like it had stopped, your hand frozen in place as you slowly tilted your head to look at your boyfriend sitting across from you.

"i... want to break up." he repeated robotically.

"minho, where is this coming from? did i do something wrong? please... just talk to me," you begged, panic starting to flood your mind as tears threatened to spill over. you couldn't believe what he had just said. the both of you had been perfectly fine before, the both of you were happy, why was he doing this? were you not good enough for him? did he fall in love with someone else? the thought alone made you weak.

"i just... it's for the best. i'm putting you in danger every day, fans will hurt you if they find out i'm with you. i can't let that happen."

"i don't care if they try to hurt me, minho. as long as i'm with you, it’s- " you reached for his hand, and could feel your heart finally sinking to the bottom as you saw his face, screwed into an expression of hurt and resignation as he shook his head.

"just... don't forget me in the future, okay?" before you could say anything, minho was already out of his seat, grabbing his coat and his phone, already reaching for the front door.

"wait! minho-" you jumped out of your seat in alarm and desperation, clinging to his arm as he looked back at you with a pained expression. 

"please- we can work this out, just don't leave me," you pleaded, tears already cascading down your face. you must've looked a pathetic mess in that moment, sniffling and sobbing, yet minho still thought you were the most beautiful person to ever exist as he memorised your face for one last time.

finally, minho turned around, cupping your face in his hands. your hands reached up to hold his, as he memorised your every detail for the last time. minho's lips found their way to your forehead, then the corner of your eyes, then your lips as he kissed you tenderly for the last time as you sobbed in his arms.  

"i'm sorry." he whispered, before pushing you back as you cried out and stumbled backwards, opening the door, walking out of the apartment and out of your life.

december 25th, 2019, 11.28 pm. 

your diary.

i still think of you, you know. i still see your face in the windows of that cafe shop we used to go to whenever i pass by. i know you're not in there, and i'm hallucinating. i can't go in there anymore, not without thinking of you. i can't even watch the television anymore without having to see your face. listened to your new comeback. that song was about me, wasn't it? 

it's christmas now. i adopted some presents for you. you would love them, the three cats. i named them soongie, doongie, and dori. quite fitting, they're playful like you. they'll never meet their father. i still wore your hoodie, the green one i always wore every christmas. you used to wear my red hoodie, but i guess you won't be here to wear it anymore. it still smells like you. 

i still wonder why you left. was such a pathetic excuse as me potentially being hurt the only reason why you would leave me? you knew i didn't care if i was hurt, so long as i was with you. you still left. i hate you for that, but deep down i could never hate you. i still love you.

january 7th, 2020, 2.35 pm.

you strolled down the busy streets of seoul, a long oversized fluffy coat resting on your shoulders and your nose pink from the cold. a sigh of relief escaped your lips when you finally stepped foot into the cozy ambience of a random cafe alongside the road, the warm air blowing gently at you helping to relieve the coldness settling into your bones. ordering a latte and a small cake which were promptly delivered to your table, you settled down to scroll through the news.

new technology developed, scientists say new machinery can effectively target and erase memories of specific people and objects. is now being offered at multiple mental health clinics nationwide at a low cost, guaranteed 90% success rate. for sign-ups and further information, please contact...

you raised your eyebrows at the news, marvelling slightly at how advanced technology seemed to be developing at this rate. thinking nothing of it, you simply continued scrolling.

january 7th, 2020, 12.02 pm.

you sighed as you flopped onto your bed, tired from a day of work and countless emails sent. feeling a warm, soft head poke it's way under your arm, you smiled softly, hand reaching out to scratch doongie's head as he meowed in content. smiling softly, you felt two large lumps jump onto your bed and settle on you, soongie choosing to settle on your feet and dori choosing to burrow his way under you arm as you giggled. 

"soongie, you're so heavy," you laughing light-heartedly as your oldest cat let out a 'meow' of indignation at your words. 

minho would love the cats so much...

your smile drooped, feeling that warm familiar sensation pricking at your eyes again. 

god, how stupid. it had been two months already and you were still hung up on him. everywhere you went, you saw his face, on advertisments at the bus stop, billboards in the shopping districts, to even advertisments on youtube, and every single time your old memories with minho would surface and you would miss him again.

memories...

oh. the news of the memory erasure experiment.

would it hurt to try? you tried imagining forgetting minho. for him to just be another face on the billboard, a random k-pop idol to you. to forget you had ever even loved him and forget that he ever loved you. the pain would be gone. your heart would no longer ache each day, you would no longer think of him and he would no longer cloud your mind.

picking up your phone, your finger hovered above the 'call' button.

"hello? this is the seoul medical psychiatry clinic speaking. how may i help you?"

"i..." you paused, gnawing at your bottom lip.

"i would like to make an appointment."

january 19th, 2020, 1.28 pm.

"welcome! do you have a booked appointment?" the receptionist greeted cheerfully as you stepped into the reception and seating area of the clinic, a large box full of items in your hands. the hallways were filled with posters and quotes, the beanbags and seats painted in warm and soothing colours. 

"yes, doctor kim at 1.35pm." you answered, watching as the receptionist typed a few words into her computer.

"ah yes, under the name yoon y/n, right?" she clicked her tongue, "for... memory erasure?" she glanced at you with a look full of sympathy, as if you were some lost wounded puppy. 

"yes." you confirmed, lips pursing together slightly as you stared down at the box.

"good, and you've got your box of items already. do double check to make sure they are linked to that specific person only, we wouldn't want any erasure of other memories woth different people."

you swallowed the lump in your throat.

"yeah, i have." 

"great, we'll be calling for you later, the doctor will run you through the procedure and then the operation will commence. take a seat first," she gestured to the seating area. not long after, you heard your name.

"yoon y/n?" 

you hurriedly stood up, making your way towards the nurse and following her into the operation room. the operation room was white and cold, lacking any warmth and colour, filled with odd looking machinery and lab coats and tools. you were sat down on a chair, and your box of items given to the nurse who began taking them out one by one while another nurse attached a few wires to your skin to a machine on the right which measured your heart rate, a steady thump-thump-thump. the first nurse began to place your items in a row, scanning each one under a machine.

beep.

minho's green hoodie.

beep.

the snow globe the both of you had bought together at a winter festival.

beep.

polariods of you and him.

beep.

a cat plushie you had gifted him in celebration of his lastest comeback before he had left.

beep.

matching mugs the two of you had bought.

minho. everything, everywhere, everyone reminded you of minho. it felt like you were drowning, consumed by him.

"alright, i'll be placing the device on your head. the device will take you through individual memories of the person, but you will have to re-experience certain bigger core memories again as those take a longer time to process. if at any point should you feel distressed or want to stop, please press the red button beside you, and should you want to restore your memories we will reload them back into your brain. however, if you choose not to restore the memories, we will automatically delete them after 30 days." the doctor explained, showing you a strange contraption with two pulse points connecting to either side of your temple.

beside you, the heart rate measured by the machine started beeping faster.

you nodded. 

the cold, tingly terminals of the device connected with either side of your temples, the unfamiliar feeling odd and alienating. 

then all turned black.

"min! look, they have matching mugs! we should get them," you pointed excitedly to two mugs at a stall in a summer fair you and minho had just happened to pass by. you watched as your old self pointed to the mugs happily, "the world's best boyfriend" and "the world's best girlfriend" written on each mug respectively. "that's so cheesy," minho said, a grin on his face as he pulled you close to him by your waist. well, the old minho in your memories. it felt like a punch in the gut yet the cure to your pain as you stared at his face again in your re-lived memory, his oh-so-familar grin plastered on his stupidly handsome face. "yeah, but it's cute!" you exclaimed, turning to face minho. "pleaseeee," you begged, lips downturned in a pout and your eyes shining hopefully as you tugged on his arm. "fine," minho groans, eventually giving in into your request, feigning annoyace by rolling his eyes yet still smiling at your delighted expression. 

god, you missed him so much.

the memory shifted, warping into another blurry picture.

this time, it was another memory that faded in, a memory of you and him sitting in the living room unwrapping your christmas presents. minho tore open his box eagerly, laughing as he held up a green hoodie from his favorite brand gifted to him by you, coupled with some other things like perfume and a brand new wallet. "oops... might've gifted you an accidental matching hoodie by accident," he smiled sheepishly, as you opened your present, some jewelry with . "a red hoodie! now we can match," you snickered, pulling the soft hoodie over your head and slipping it on. "hey, we look like the christmas colours!" you laughed, pouncing on him and tackling him down to make him wear his one as he whined in protest. eventually you did managed to get him to put it on and pose for some pictures, albeit him being disgruntled but still giving in to you anyways.

a tear trickled down your face, landing on your lap as your hands on the chair tightened, gripping the armrests so hard your knuckles started turning white.

the memory started to fade away.

"min! the new comeback was so good, i watched the music video just now," you exclaimed, bounding up to him the moment he opened the front door to your shared apartment. "thanks baby," he smiled, leaning in for a quick peck but suddenly finding a soft plushie being thrust into his hands. it was a plush of a brown and white striped cat, soft to the touch and extremely squishable. "what's this for?" he raised eyebrow, cocking his head in confusion as he stared at you. "it's to celebrate your comeback, I figured i'd give you something to cuddle when i'm not around you," you smiled, "i named the cat mr sprinkles." "who names a plush toy mr sprinkles?" minho laughs, watching as you huff at him about how the name was cute and he was being mean. "thank you though, i appreciate it," he kissed you softly, smiling at the small act of love.

no, stop-

you started to whimper and thrash around.

fade to black again.

"min, look," minho turned to you as you were admiring the ornaments at a booth, the both of you coming across a christmas market and deciding to explore it. "it's a snow globe of us," you pointed out to a small snow globe, with a man and women as figurines in the center of the snow globe and fake snow swirling in the water around them. "it does look like us, doesn't it?" he hummed, pressing a soft kiss into your hair as you subconsciously leaned into him. "we should get it," he suggested, smiling at how your eyes lit up and how you pressed a kiss to his cheek. the two of you purchased the item, and then bought some hot chocolate to sip on to relieve the cold setting into your bones. "jagi-ah," minho called, prompting you to look up at him before gasping in surprise. the first snow of the season. "you know, they say the person you witness the first snow with will be with you for a long, long time." minho grinned, leaning down to kiss you tenderly before intertwining your hands. 

you didn't want to forget him, you realized, as you gasped for air, heartbeat skyrocketing as you tried to open your mouth to scream. no, you would never want to forget minho. you would rather cling onto those memories and deal with the pain forever than never having remembered him.

the memory faded.

you gasped in surprise as you ripped open the box, holding up a brand-new, shiny polariod camera wrapped in a gift box, its paper shreds used to cushion the camera hapazardly strewn about the floor.  minho watched you with a small smile on his face, eyes sparkling as he happily obliged to any pose you wanted to do with him, groaning half-heartedly but still laughing at the silly faces you made.

the memory started to fade again.

"STOP!" your finger found the red button, desperately pressing it in an attempt to get the machine to start working. all of a sudden, you were jolted back into your consciousness in the middle of the white sterile room again, heaving and gasping for air as you tried to adjust back to the surroundings. 

"are you okay? do you need to stop the operation?" the nurse asked, a concerned look on her face. beside you, the machine was beeping, a erratic rhythm.

beep. beep. beep. beep.

your hand reached up to fiddle with your necklace, looking left and right. you swallowed, a lump in your throat.

"yes."

----------

you stumbled out the clinic, hands clutching onto the box of items tightly as your eyes adjusted to the bright light of the sun. 

hands shaking, you pulled out your phone.

'my love,' the contact at the top of the screen read. you hadn't called him in months, ever since he had broken up with you. you has tried for a few weeks, but day after day of missed calls was heartbreaking.

you pressed the button.

one ring.

two rings.

three rings.

four rings...

"hello?"

a voice you hadn't heard for months. a voice you had only been hearing in your dreams.

"minho-" a strangled sob left your lips.

"please." you could only force out a choked plea, tears falling rapidly, stumbling onto a nearby bench. people started at you as they walked by, a woman breaking down in a random street in seoul oddly disconcerting.

"where are you? i'll come get you." the moment you heard the concern laced in his voice, your eyes brimmed with more unshed tears, stifling a sob that threatened to escape. in the background, you could hear the sound of things being knocked over, presumably minho rushing to get to you.

you told him your location in between shaky breaths, occasional hiccups interrupting your sentence. 

"just wait for me, ok? don't move anywhere," minho firmly instructed, voice soft and calming.

a few minutes passed, and he was nowhere to be found.

he would hate you for this, you realized. you didn't deserve him. he tried so hard to keep you safe, and how did you repay him? by almost erasing all memories of him. the thought of it just broke your heart even more, for if he knew what you had tried to do he would never want to have anything to do with you again.

"y/n!" you heard a voice yell, whipping around only to see minho running to you at full speed.  you had never been more glad to see him, your knees instantly buckling as you collapsed into his arms, crying into the crook of his neck as you clutched onto him like a lifeline. 

you didn't think you would ever get used to this feeling, you thought. his touch, warmth, his gentle strokes of your hair and whispered sweet nothings were like music to your ears, his hand coming up to rest on your back and his other coming up to gently stroke your hair as he swayed you back and forth. he had clearly just ran from dance practice, you realized, slightly sweaty and panting ever so slightly. 

"what's wrong, jagi?" he murmured, soft brown eyes searching your own red and teary ones.

"i- i didn't want to remember you because it was too painful, and then i tried to erase my memories of you, but i realized i didn't want to and i really, really, really fucking miss you and it hurts-" your rambling was cut off by a hiccup, lips quivering as you stared back into his eyes.

here comes the part where he realizes your a disgusting bitch and hates you forever, you thought miserably.

"shh, it's ok," minho pulled you closer, engulfing you in his warmth as his hand rose up to cup your cheek.

what?

he was supposed to hate you, not do... this. you literally tried to erase all memories of him, he should be angry and offended, so why...?

nonetheless, you would take what you could get in what you assumed to be your last moments with him, so instead you leaned into his touch, memorising his every detail again. his soft brown eyes framed with delicate lashes, sharp nose and jawline, the pink rosy tint to his cheeks as the winter wind whipped around you.

"i'm sorry," you begged, "just don't hate me."

"i never did, silly." minho laughed softly, a wistful smile gracing his lips.

"but you left me." you said, confused.

"i left you because i loved you. it was just for your own safety, i didn't care about anything else," minho explained, brows furrowing slightly.

oh.

minho stumbled backwards as you crashed into him with a force, nearly knocking him over as you crashed your lips onto his, hands threading through his soft silky hair and teeth knocking against his. it was a heated, messy kiss, teeth clashing and tears streaming down your face, yet minho didn't seem to mind as he deepened the kiss with a fervour, all seeming to pour out of him, pain and regret, relief and want. it is only when you seperate with a gasping breath of air that you finally see his swollen, reddened lips.

“i’ll figure something out, i’ll talk to the company, make a statement or something- i won’t let anyone get to you, i promise,” he rambled, a giddy smile on his face. right now, minho could care less about the repercussions, even if he had to move mountains just to be by your side and keep you safe at the same time. 

you giggled, an infectious laugh bubbling out of you. the both of you, crying in the middle of a street, hands intertwined and both a mess, yet you had never been happier with the person you truly loved. 

“we'll be alright now.” you whispered. it wasn’t just a statement but a promise, one to keep forever.

december 25th, 2020, 1.43 pm.

“min! come look!” you squealed in delight, eyes lighting up when you were finally done. minho glanced over, and sure enough, you were up to mischief again, the three cats dressed in ugly christmas sweaters with cartoonish designs on them and matching hats on their heads. doongie let out a ‘meow’ of indignation, protesting as minho roared with laughter to scoop him and his fellow cats up. laughter bubbling out of your lips, you quickly grabbed your phone to take a picture of minho and the three cats, his face lighting up in amusement as he watched them try to squirm out of his grasp. 

“i love you, you know that?” minho says that night, the two of you cuddled up on the couch with the cats, watching your favourite seasonal christmas movies together and snacking on popcorn.

“i don’t say it enough, partly because i’m not good at expressing myself, but i love you. your smile and personality and everything. just thought you should know.” the tips of his ears are red as he mumbles, scratching the back of his neck sheepishly.

you smile, a red tint blossoming across your cheeks as you lean in to kiss him softly.

“i love you too min.” 

how did you ever get so lucky? you think, leaning in to rest your head on minho’s shoulder as you resumed watching the movie, one hand absentmindedly scratching dori’s head as he purrs in contentment. here, in the dim light of the cozy apartment with minho, love heavy in the air around you two and christmas lights twinkling merrily, you think you have everything you have ever wanted in life.

after all, it didn't really matter where you were, as long as minho was by your side.

taglist: @starseungs @missmajdastark @jazziwritesthings @layviyu @lailac13 @ana-marais98 @foxinthewild @dandelions-143 @rylea08 @linocz @minseongsworld @realrintaro @kkamismon12 @felinows @baribaaari

[brummiereader]

MASTERLIST PART TWO

Unchained Melody (Part Three)

Summary: As an uncomfortable tension settles between you both the next day, Tommy finally musters up enough courage to say what needs to be said, only to be interrupted by a scornful Governess, then two unexpected visitors later that day. But as night descends on Arrow House and your guests return to their homes, your husband tells you of the uncomfortable reality, and turmoil you had left him in as he drowns himself in his most reliable friend, and remedy to numb the pain. Whisky.

Warnings: Language, angst, postpartum depression, mutual pining

Word Count: 5291

Authors note: A quieter chapter before things finally come to a head after an eventful, terrifying day in the next part.

Two days. You had been back for a total of two, full days. Not only had you and Tommy been avoiding the hard discussion that desperately needed to take place, you had learnt that the Governess who was hired to care for your son had also been keeping your husband company. Or to be more accurate, keeping him company in the martial bed you once shared. You didn't think it possible your heart could ache anymore until last night when your eyes landed on Tommy's sheepish gaze staring back at you as you left your son's nursery, and you came face to face with not only his disheveled appearance but his belt shamelessly unbuckled as the Governess sauntered from the dimly lit room they had both left. It didn't take much for you to come to the anguished realisation of what had occurred in your absence as you tormented yourself for the remainder of the evening with images of your husband making love to the woman you felt had replaced you, all while a painful nagging of self- conscious thoughts plagued your sleepless night.

Did she satisfy him better than you ever did? Was her body more attractive to him than yours? Did he...love her? As a barrage of unstoppable questions you had no answers for other than the ones your worried mind could conjure up, you dragged your shaky body timidly down the winding staircase the next morning, every part of you fearing you would break down into a puddle of pitiful tears for the hundredth time once again.

You were weeks, if not days from having enough willpower to return to Arrow House, you'd tell yourself. Whether you truthfully believed it or not, it was the sole dream you held onto, wishfully hoping your husband hadn't forgotten you, praying he and your son would show you mercy if you ever returned to them. How could you have been so selfish to think he would've waited? That he wouldn't have moved on? You thought to yourself as you scrambled to piece together your shattered heart from the embarrassment you felt for being so foolish. Your place in the grand house you once called your home was thoroughly understood. You were now, the other woman.

Smoothing down the front of your dress, you closed your eyes, desperately trying to compose yourself before you entered the dining room and let your true feelings slip.

"Good morning Mrs Shelby, some tea perhaps?" Frances greeted you, stood next to William cutting his toast into smaller, toddler-sized pieces as you entered the room. Mrs Shelby...Was you still? You thought to yourself as you walked to the end of the large mahogany table with Tommy sat at the head, looking at the end of the burning cigarette resting between his fingers, anywhere but you, anywhere that would hide the shame in his eyes and the regret uncomfortably wrapped around his chest.

" Yes, thank you, Frances" you answered quietly as you looked to the seat beside Tommy. Your seat. The seat saved solely for the lady of the house. A simple, once mundane decision as to where to sit suddenly felt like the most cementing finality to your broken marriage. Forgoing the position you once held, you made your way around the table to sit next to your son as Tommy's eyes flew up, darting to the unoccupied chair next to him then back to you, huffing as he stubbed his cigarette out into the glass ashtray. What did he expect? Tommy, the man always a step ahead of everyone else, couldn't fathom that someone couldn't just soldier on like him, ignoring the fragility of such a situation, and have things left unspoken without resolution.

With his tired body relenting to yet another issue that needed to be faced, he slouched into the frame of his seat as he turned his head away, running his hand down his tired features as a headache from guzzling half a bottle of whisky in an attempt to numb his guilt the previous night started to thump furiously across his forehead. He too, hadn't slept.

" William, eat your toast son" Tommy said clearing his throat as he sat up noisily unfolding his newspaper whilst staring at you, trying to garner your attention and have you finally look his way. But with your refusal to do so, a mutual silence descended between you both as you tended to your son and ignored your husband's blatant attempts to show you how unhappy he was with your choice of seats. Was he looking for an argument? Was that what he wanted, a slagging match to tally up who was more in the wrong?

" Some more water for your tea Mam" Frances said as she walked in and placed a floral china teapot in front of you as Tommy looked over his newspaper, stealing another glance before furrowing his brow and returning his eyes to the first line of the business collum he had read, and re-read at least ten times already.

The latest happenings in the world of finance that would normally have him buried deep in thought each morning held little to zero interest as his worries drifted to what you were thinking, occupying every space in his restless mind. Did you think he was still having sex with her? That she had replaced you? That he loved her? Tommy nervously thought to himself as his paper lowered, and he watched your lips graze over the porcelain cup in your hand as a dusting of particles illuminated by the morning sun glittered gracefully around you. Captured once again, Tommy's feelings of melancholy that once shrouded him suddenly subsided and an urgent need for reconciliation swept over him as his fingers inadvertently inched across the freshly laid table cloth closer to your hand.

"Y/N, can we tal..." he said apprehensively as you finally looked up to see the anguish engulfing his tired face when the door flew open and the Governess strode in, quickly causing him to snatch his hand away.

" Frances, tea" she demanded looking to Tommy giving him a smirk as he glared at her, his jaw tightening within seconds at the mere sight of her smug face.

" Staff eat down in the kitchen, unless invited otherwise" Tommy mumbled, lifting his newspaper as the tension that had slowly simmered between you both came thundering back tenfold into a suffocating pressure that was weighing the room down. Fuck, she needed to go. Tommy thought to himself as she sat down beside him without a care, taking your place once again, thinking she had the upper hand in the situation. Her little stunt filled with veiled threats the previous night had Tommy calling up and down the country all morning gathering as much information as he could on who she was, and her own little secrets she wished to keep from seeing the light of day. Brazen enough to make such threats, Tommy was no fool to think she hadn't safeguarded the intel she had acquired on him. And until he had dealt with whoever had been entrusted with said information, be it family or friend, her unwelcome presence in the house would have to be begrudgingly endured.

" Mummy" William smiled up at you with jammy cheeks, and a single toothy smile whilst kicking his legs back and forth, single handily bringing a smile to your face and a distraction from the frosty stare the Governess sat across from you was sending your way.

" Hi sweetheart..." You replied quietly, running your fingers across his plump cheek as a tear settled on your lashes, never tiring from hearing the sweetest of words spoken to you.

" Don't talk with your mouth full William" the governess barked, breaking the tender moment between you both and shocking you out of the one delight you felt you were allowed to enjoy.

" Give it a rest, would you? He's two bloody years old" Tommy snapped back, having had enough of her overbearing, over-controlling attitude towards his son, your son. Why the hell did he even go there, with her? Tommy thought to himself, wondering if it wouldn't be easier to just throw her in the cut.

" More, more, more" William's little voice squeaked as he pointed enthusiastically to the glass dish of strawberry jam in the center of the table as a quiet chuckle left Tommy's lips and a smile graced your own at his sheer determination, and the learnt knowledge of his sweet tooth he could have only inherited from one person.Tommy.

Reaching for the jam, you pulled it towards you when a hand suddenly grabbed the opposite end, sharply pulling it back into the middle of the table.

" Do you want him bouncing of the walls, hm? Did you eat a lot of sugar when you nursed him? That certainly explains a lot" The governess peered down at you, not giving you an opportunity to reply before coming to her own judgment as you recalled into the back of your seat and a sudden surge of self-doubt engulfed your stomach, your ability to be a mother suddenly brought into question over something so meaningless as a second serving of jam. As your eyes cast down at the cold cup of tea in front of you, every interaction you had had with your son since your return had the feelings of inadequacy that once darkened your mind seep rapidly back into your fragile thoughts.

As you shrank into yourself, numb of William pulling at the sleeve of your dress while the Governess continued her barrage of unwarranted parenting knowledge, Tommy watched as your tearful eyes looked up at him, pulling at his heart until he could no longer withstand the torment of seeing you look so vulnerable. Throwing his newspaper onto the empty plate in front of him, Tommy abruptly stood up, glaring at the Governess as his teeth grounded down onto eachother. Her overstepping into the role you solely held as William's mother getting on his last, and final nerve.

" It's just fucking jam!" Tommy's voice rose, reaching over the table placing the small bowl in front of William as the Governess lips pursed together, and she folded her arms in annoyance that her lecture had gone ignored. "Enjoy my boy" Tommy said walking behind your son, placing a tender kiss to the crown of his head as he looked to you before swiftly leaving the room with some urgent calls to be made, and preferably an anchor and rope to be ordered.

" Well..." The governess scoffed as her eyes darted from the slamming of the dining room door to you, glaring at you up and down. "You certainly have soured his mood. And to think he was finally starting to enjoy life again" she commented as her fingers curled around the cup in her hand, sowing yet another dousing of blame into your troubled mind. Was she right? Had your unexpected return thrown Tommy's apparent newly founded happiness into chaos?

Sat at the living room bay window with a book resting in your hands you had little to no interest in, your eyes darted up from the pages to see your husband outside patting down one of his newest race horses on the freshly pruned grass. Tommy always had been stubborn about anything that would show the slightest ounce of vulnerability in him. So to see him occupying himself with a four-legged creature rather than any two-legged human that could neither, answer back, nor confront him came as no surprise.

Returning to the pages of your book, Tommy, who had chosen the most unusual of spots to inspect his horse, that just so happened to be in viewing distance of you, couldn't help but glance up every other second to get a quick glimpse of you all while internally berating himself for acting like some nervous teen boy psyching himself up to talk to his crush. With a heavy sigh leaving his throat, Tommy looked your way, throwing his cigarette onto the grass with determination to have his thoughts settled once and for all, and finally discuss what needed to be said. But just as you looked up to see Tommy striding towards you, his mustered up courage to have the conversation he had been avoiding took another blow as a car screeched around the corner, interrupting him once again.

" Where is she Tommy?" Polly demanded to know as Esme slammed the car door behind her and they both marched up to the house without the slightest of greetings to him.

" Fuck sake" he mumbled under his breath pointing to the house as you abruptly stood up, bracing yourself for what was to come while your eyes darted to your husband leading his horse away and the living room door seconds away from being thrown open.

" Esme..would you..bloody hell..." Polly grunted, as they pushed past one another through the door frame, when the Lee girl slipped through first and came running up to you. Stepping back your eyes widened, readying yourself for the inevitable, only to be quickly welcomed into a tight hug.

" Why the fuck didn't you tell me?" She said, wrapping her arms around you as your body relaxed into hers and tears began to streak your face.

" Es, I...I don't know. I'm so sorry" you cried as she cupped your cheeks, brushing your tears away with her thumbs whilst you internally scolded yourself for not opening up to the friend that had become a sister, and most cherished supporting hand throughout your pregnancy and labour.

" I would have come with you. God knows I need a bloody break" she stifled her tears with a laugh, pulling you back into her arms as you reached your hand out for Polly who was stood behind her, her trembling hands hovering over the smile beaming across her face.

" I told him, I told you all" Polly said with tears welling in her eyes as she pulled you into a hug, stroking the hair away from your face as you cried into her shoulder. " I checked, I made sure" she said closing her eyes as she clutched the black Madonna around her neck, silently thanking her ancestor's guidance. " Look at you" she said cupping your face as she pressed a longing kiss to your forehead, relief sweeping over her that you was still in one piece. "Come let's sit, before we all lose our footing" she said sniffing back her tears as she linked her arm into yours and led you to the two large cushioned sofas in the middle of the room.

" Where's William?" Esme asked as she looked around the grand sitting area only to see his toys scattered along the floor.

" With the Governess" you said, diverting your eyes as Polly shot Esme a sharp look, or rather, a warning.

" ABCs and 123s, he's two years old for god's sake. Should be out with the horses, in the mud and the meadows, not stuck between four walls. Never did me any harm" Esme huffed as she let her tired body and aching back from another baby weighing down her stomach fall into the feathered stuffed sofa. "What was Tommy thinking hiring that witch?"

" Esme!" Polly warned her as she looked back to you with a tight smile, holding your hand within her own. "Tommy hasn't been in his right mind for a long time"

" It's ok, I know they're together" you said biting, your bottom lip as you looked to the mantel place. Your pictures with him still sitting there neatly one by one. Memories stuck in a flash of a moment, cruelly tormenting you for what you had given up, and what you desperately longed for once again.

" Together? Whoever told you that?" Polly asked, furrowing her brow. " Love, as crude as it is, Tommy... Well I don't think there was ever any feelin..."

" It's ok Polly, It really is" you said cutting her off, trying to reassure yourself and subsequently avoid any further discussion on the topic that had consumed all your thoughts of late. " I burst their happy little bubble"

"Don't think the crate of whisky he has my John bring to his office door once a week, like some bloody delivery boy would agree with you" Esme said less than tactfully as Polly's head snapped to her. "What?" She said bewildered as to why Polly's eyes were suddenly boring into her very soul.

"Esme, why don't you go get us something to eat? Biscuits perhaps" Polly said as your sister-in-law furrowed her brow, crossing her arms.

" Biscuits?" Esme asked frowning, like it was the most bizarre, most confusing of questions to ask someone.

" Yes, bloody biscuits. And a bottle of whisky" she said as Esme stood up with a huff. "The good stuff, he keeps hidden in his office cabinet!" Polly called out as Esme waved her hand above her head mumbling to herself before shutting the door.

" Oh love" Polly said, moving her attention back to you with a heavy look of worry as she stared into your eyes, only sadness and shame to be found in them. "Why didn't you come to me?"

" I was scared you'd judge me Polly, that I couldn't cope when every other woman around me makes it look so easy" you sobbed as she pulled you into your arms.

" God knows there were moments when I wanted to run from it all, Esme too. The only difference between us is, you battled through when we buckled. You didn't have to love, we were here for you. We would have held you up" she said, holding you In front of her as she dabbed your tears from your cheeks. " Your pain is my pain. I would have walked the lonely path of motherhood with you, holding your hand all the way" she finished, cupping your cheeks when Esme walked in with a large cake on a polished silver tray, and one of the finest bottles of whisky Tommy possessed tucked safely under her arm.

" No biscuits, but I found another one of these fucking cakes again" Esme huffed from holding the heavy monstrosity in her hands.

" Give me the knife " Polly demanded with her hand out, her brow raised as she waited.

" Don't think I'm capable of cutting a bloody cake, Polly?"

"Esme" Polly's eyes narrowed in, their once mutual disdain for each other now a daily power play of Polly trying to assert herself over her nephews wild hearted wife.

"Shelby's. Stubborn, the lot of you" she said handing the knife over as she sent you a quick smile." So, you and Tommy had it out yet? " Esme asked, curious as to where you both stood with each other now you had returned.

"I think he tried to. At one point" you replied, recalling the brief moment in the dining room before the Governess barged in, interrupting his chances. " He won't forgive me, I know he wont"

" You focus on little William for now, Tommy can wait. It may do him so good to mull things over, before he says something pigheaded " Polly said handing you slice of cake. She and Esme may bash heads on many things, but the inherited trait of stubbornness was something she couldn't deny. And unfortunately for you, Tommy's headstrong, unyielding nature was the vain of the whole family's existence.

" I can't stomach anymore of it" Esme said, refusing her plate as she made a beeline for the whisky instead.

" God, me neither" Polly agreed, dropping the knife as she took Esme's glass tumbler from her.

" Why, what's wrong with it?" You asked inspecting it, noting it's familiarity to the cake you would often bake.

" Oh, you didn't know?" Polly smiled as she sat back in her chair, her eyes playfully glimmering from the amber liquid bouncing off the sides of the crystal glass in her hand " Every Saturday Tommy insists on that bloody fruit cake you used to bake that weighed more than a newborn baby on being made. He sends that poor old cook up and down the country in search of the ingredient Tommy insists is missing"

" He hated my fruit cake" you chuckled, looking down at the plate in your hand as the memory of happier times when you had become adamant on perfecting your baking skills before the birth of William on a reluctant Tommy flooded your thoughts.

"He still does. But it was a little part of you he couldn't part with" she winked at you as she poured herself another glass of whisky. " I'm starting to think he just enjoys watching the torment on Mr Giles face as the kitchen staff gather around to hear his weekly verdict every Saturday evening" Polly laughed into her drink at her nephews dry sense of fun, and the growing stockpile of cake enough to build a small house stored in the pantry." Why don't you bake him one?"

" Polly, I don't think a cake will fix this" you sighed, casting your eyes down to your lap when she cupped the side of your cheek, turning it to face her glistening hazel eyes.

"No. But it might make him smile. And that would be a sight"

As you said your goodbyes to Polly and Esme out in the grand foyer, grateful for the afternoon you had spent with them and their comforting words, Tommy stood watching by the front door, a pang of jealousy settling in his chest at everyone's ease with you like no time had passed, and mounting frustration with himself that he couldn't do the same.

" All is forgotten then, eh?" Tommy said in passing as the sound of the front door closed, his spite quickly finding a way to weave itself back into the iron cast wall he had slowly let down as he sulked off to his office once again, leaving you with his dampened mood for a fresh crate of whisky waiting for him.

One and a half years ago...

" Tommy this has to stop" Polly said, hovering over his desk, her nephew's head buried deep in a stack of maps, newspaper clippings and letters.

" Not now, Pol" Tommy replied, stubbing his cigarette out before returning to the large plan of Birmingham's canal system on his desk. Wide-eyed and restless. Polly was certain he hadn't slept in days, if not weeks.

" Enough Tommy!" She shouted, trying to snap him out of his madness as she snatched the large map away from him, her eyes pleading with him to give up, to rest.

" I will not fucking stop! Do you hear me?! I will not stop until her body is found!" He bellowed, pointing his finger into the desk as tears welled in his eyes and his face reddened with fury. "Just leave Polly...Go" he sighed, pinching the skin between his brows, his tired body unable to keep up with another argument with his Aunt, and his relentless search for you.

" There's no body to be found Thomas" Polly said as he walked around his desk grabbing the map from her hands before dropping into the sofa and pouring himself not a finger, not even two, but a whole glass of whisky. " Enough!" She said, marching over to him, throwing the remainder of the bottles contents into the fire place before crouching down in front of him. " You can't dull it forever Tommy. You have to listen to me, she's not passed over"

" Polly Stop" Tommy replied, burying his hands into his hair, scrapping his nails along his scalp at the stress tightening around his skull.

" You won't find anything"

" Polly stop, stop STOP!" Tommy's voice crescendoed until a sob of cries left his lips and his shoulders slouched over his body, drained of any rational thought left. " She's dead Pol" Tommy said looking up to his Aunt with an empty, lifeless stare as his hands fell down onto his thighs. Drunk, beaten down and hollow. Tommy had not an ounce of will to carry on. The second half of him was gone, and if it wasn't for William, he would have gladly welcomed the sweet release of death and joined you if it had brought him peace, and you back into his arms. "She's fucking dead..."

As you rummaged through the kitchen cabinets in search of a bottle of brandy you were certain was the missing ingredient from your fruit cake Tommy had ordered Mr Giles to bake every weekend in your absence, a loud crash quickly followed by your husband shouting every blasphemy known to man had you jumping away from the cupboards, and your own choice of profanities quickly leaving your lips.

" Shit!" you heard Tommy mumble as you slowly approached his office door to see him steadying himself with one hand on his desk as he poured the remaining contents of a bottle of whisky into a glass while blood dripped from an open cut on his hand. " What the fuck you looking at, eh?" Tommy said stumbling back and forth as he pointed at the large portrait of himself hung in his office. "Dickhead"

Just go to bed Tommy. You silently pleaded, watching him ease himself into his leather chair as he buried his head in his hand, replaying every moment from the day you had left to every hour he would spend trying to find your body over and over again in his head, letting his emotions fester inside, clinging onto them in an attempt to change their outcome. Watching him reach for another bottle of whisky, you opened the door and walked in, fearing he would drink until he passed out.

" Is everything ok? I heard a noise" You said, looking around his usually immaculate office stacked with paperwork and broken furniture.

" Fucking fantastic sweetheart " Tommy replied, trying to unscrew the cap of the bottle as you carefully walked around a smashed lamp on the ground you could only assume got in his way. " Fuck..." Tommy sighed, his injured hand rendering his attempts to open the large whisky bottle useless. Removing the satin belt around your dressing gown, you took his hand, gently wrapping the soft fabric around the deep gash across his knuckles as Tommy watched on in silence, swallowing the lump forming in his throat as your delicate touch stirred his unwanted emotions once again.

" There" you said letting go, waiting for him to say something, anything to break the palpable silence that had descended between you both as his eyes roamed down your body, and he opened mouth to say something pigheaded, exactly as his Aunt had predicted had he not been left alone to wallow in his own self pity.

" Do you wanna fuck?"

" Jesus Christ...get some sleep Tommy" you sighed, shaking your head as you turned for the door. He had every right to be angry at you, but this, this you didn't have to deal with. A drunken Tommy was an unreasonable man, and you now regrettably wished you had let him drink himself to sleep, and pass out on the floor.

" No? Thought it would stop me from hating you so much" he stated coldly as you came to a stop, his words piercing you as deep as he had intended them to.

" You already have someone that's been keeping your bed warm, our bed warm. Don't you Tommy?" You said, unable to keep your bitterness contained any longer as you turned to face him, and he came to face the outcome of his harsh words streaming down your cheeks.

" I shared our bed with nobody Y/N" Tommy pointed to you as he stood up, taking the large map he had mulled over for the past two years from his desk as he walked past you to the fire. There was no lie in his words. Never once had he tarnished the most intimate part of what was left of you. No matter what he had done to dull his grief in the past, every night Tommy would faithfully return to your martial bed unaccompanied, desperately holding onto the memory of your body wrapped warmly in his arms. " I thought you were dead" he said, the vows he had made to stay faithful unknowingly severed, crushing him more than any broken promise he had ever made.

" I know" you sobbed as you slowly approached and stood beside him, welcoming the comforting warmth from the fireplace as you looked into the towering orange flames and crackling wood burning below them.

" Do you know how long I looked for you?" He said, glancing up at you as you shook your head, feeling a surge of nervousness at where the conversation was suddenly going. "One year, six months and twenty two days" he said, throwing the folded document into the fire, watching the hours he had spent mapping each river, each stream and every canal burn into ash.

" Tommy...I'm so sorry. I should never have let you think that I was dead" you apologised, brushing your tears away as Tommy's stare stayed fixed on the last piece of paper melting away.

" Searched every forest, every train track until the only thing that was left was the waters, hoping your body hadn't been swept out to sea" his voice grew louder as his anger began to pump furiously beneath his skin.

" Tommy please..." you pleaded as your eyes welled with tears once again, trying to turn his stiffened frame to face you as his hand tightened around the intricately carved mantel, his knuckles turning opaque from the heat rapidly coursing through his veins.

"Polly put an end to it. Had my men stop me from leaving my own house for weeks on end. My own fucking house!" He continued, slamming his fist into the wood with a strong enough blow to split it, leaving a fractured line running permanently through the middle.

" Tom stop, please!" You begged him, trying to pull him away from the raging flames, from the raging fire within him.

" Enough!" he shouted as his hand came up to strike you when your eyes widened and he stopped himself, stumbling back in horror at the terror on your face. "Fuck!" He bellowed from the depths of his lungs, turning away to the door to hide the tears welling in his eyes and the shame on his face.

" Tommy, It's...it's ok. It's ok" You cried slowly approaching him, your body trembling with each step. " Let's sit down, and talk. Yeh?" Your shaky voice tried to reason with him as your hand brushed gently over his shoulder, coming to rest in the middle of his back.

" Now you want to talk, eh? he said, choking out a stifled breath as he brushed his tears away before turning to face your silent pleas to stay. "I'm afraid..." he sighed, bringing his hand up to stroke along your cheek as your fingers held tightly onto the front of his shirt came up to cup his cheeks, pulling him closer to you. "...I'm afraid you may be too late my darling" Tommy said scrunching his eyes closed as his lips hovered over yours, your sobs intensifying into hopeless cries before he pulled your hands off him and left without another word.

Fear of you leaving him again, fear of never being able to forgive you. Tommy Shelby, the most feared gangster in Birmingham, was in fact a man scared, a man so conflicted with the most vulnerable of feelings he had pushed down to the very depths of his heart for the past two years. Love. His broken heart still madly, still deeply in love with the one and only woman of his life. You.

PART FOUR

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[xomakara]

Love In Turbulence

(re-posting from my old account seulrinnie-rinrin/xomakara-secondary)

SUMMARY | You're the maid of honor in your best friend's destination wedding, but you are single and feeling depressed about having to attend solo. Stressed and grumpy on the long flight there, you have a few too many drinks and pass out, drooling on the shoulder of your seatmate. When you arrive at the wedding, you are mortified to discover that your handsome seatmate is Yunho, the best man, and you spend the rest of the wedding weekend trying to avoid him. PAIRING | Yunho x Reader GENRE | non-idol!Yunho, wedding season yo, smut with no (maybe a little) plot, unprotected sex (wrap it up everyone!), vaginal sex, oral sex RATING | Mature, 18+, NSFW, MDNI LENGTH | 4,144 words TAGLIST | -- NETWORKS | AUTHOR’S NOTE | I got invited to a wedding next year and was kind of, somewhat inspired to write this lol. I think it feels a bit rushed hahaha. Enjoy!

"Jina!" You yanked your best friend, the bride, into the bathroom and locked the door before anyone else came in.

"Are you okay?"

"No! Why didn't I know that we were sitting together?!" You asked her.

She looked at you with a confused look. "Huh?"

"Me and Yunho!" You explained.

"Of course you're sitting at the same table with Yunho. He's Yeosang's best man, just like you’re my maid of honor." She said it as if it made sense to her, but she couldn't figure out why you weren't making any sense either.

"Jina, he's the man I told you that I drooled all over on the plane." You told her the whole story, starting from when you started feeling depressed from being single during take-off, to having one too many drinks and until you woke up later on to find yourself face down on Yunho's shoulder, drooling.

"Oh my god." Jina covered her mouth with her hand. "Oh my god."

She kept repeating herself over and over again while you finished your story. When you were done, Jina leaned against the sink counter and looked at you with wide eyes. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"How was I supposed to know that he was Yeosang's best man?" You groaned. "He's the only one of Yeosang's friends that I haven't met yet."

"So? Who cares? Do you think Yunho will be mad that you drooled on him? If anything he'll probably be flattered."

You rolled your eyes. "There's no way he'll be flattered. Who would be flattered by someone drooling all over them?"

"And you're worried about what he thinks about you? Seriously Y/N, this isn't high school where everyone has the same circle of friends. People come here for weddings alone. You need to start meeting new people or you're going to end up an old maid at this rate." Jina scolded you. "Look, go talk to him."

"I can't do that!" You protested. "I've been running away from him ever since the reception started."

"Why? Because he looks good in a suit? Or maybe because he smells really nice and his voice makes you shiver every time you hear him speak?" Jina teased. "Come on Y/N, don't make this harder than it already is. Talk to him and get this awkward moment over with. I know Yunho. He won't think you're weird, so don't worry about that."

You sighed. "Fine."

After straightening yourself out and silently cursing Jina for making you wear this sexy cocktail dress, you headed towards the table where Yunho sat with the rest of the wedding party. Okay, you had to admit that he was stupidly, insanely hot in a suit. And you also knew that his smoky brown eyes would have caught the attention of most women around him. However, none of that mattered right now. All that mattered was getting past this first conversation with him and praying that it would go smoothly.

When you reached the table, you realized that the only empty seats were beside Yunho, so you went to sit down next to him without even thinking twice about it. As soon as your butt hit the chair, you noticed that Yunho slowly turned his head to face you. You gulped nervously and looked away quickly. This was not happening. Not after everything that happened on the plane. It was too soon. You had to get out of here. Now.

But then, before you could make a move, Yunho moved closer to you and leaned forward to place his left arm around the back of your chair. Your heart skipped a beat and you felt your cheeks burning bright red under his intense stare.

What did you say? What did you say?! But then, before you could figure out how to escape this situation, Yunho spoke. "If you're worried about what happened on the plane, don't worry about it."

His voice was smooth and silky like silk. It was almost hypnotic. The last thing you wanted to do was fall under his spell. "Okay," you replied and slowly turned your head to face him. "Thanks."

Yunho nodded and smiled slightly. His eyes scanned your body, lingering on certain parts of you. "You look really beautiful tonight."

You blinked a few times, dumbfounded by his compliment. You stared back at him and realized that he still hadn't let go of your chair. Oh god.

"Are you alright?" He asked you.

"I'm still mentally embarrassed about the whole plane incident." You said sheepishly.

"Don't worry about it." Yunho assured you. "Besides, you looked cute sleeping on my shoulder."

"Even with all the drool?" You frowned.

"Yes." Yunho confirmed. "You looked very pretty. Even with all the drool."

The corner of your lips twitched up and you realized that you actually liked hearing those words from him. So you decided to take the conversation further. "Well...I didn't know you were the best man until I saw you standing next to Yeosang earlier today. As soon as I saw you, I wanted to avoid you at all costs."

“Well if it makes you feel better, I didn’t know you were the maid of honor until a few hours ago.” Yunho laughed. “It all makes sense why you kept running when someone tried to introduce us to each other. What made you change your mind?"

"The bride." You mumbled.

Yunho laughed and you couldn't help but smile at his cute chuckle. Damn, he had such a gorgeous laugh. You could listen to it forever.

"I'm sure Jina told Yeosang because they look like they're staring at us nonstop." Yunho said, nudging you gently. "But hey, I'm glad you changed your mind and talked to me. I'm really glad to finally meet you."

Your stomach suddenly churned and butterflies started fluttering inside your chest. Even though you just officially met Yunho a few minutes ago, you were strangely attracted to him. How strange was that? You always thought of yourself as a hopeless romantic, but the feeling that you were currently experiencing right now was something entirely different. And it scared you more than anything.

"Do you want to dance?" Yunho asked, getiing up from his seat.

"And give the newlyweds even more ammo to tease us?" You asked him.

Yunho gave you a soft smile. "It's fine if you don't want to dance with me."

"But I DO want to dance with you." You countered. "I promise I won't make a fool of myself."

"Then come on." Yunho grabbed your hand and pulled you up from your chair. "Let's dance."

You knew he was tall. But you didn't think he was this tall. Sure, you were wearing like four inch heels, but he still towered over you like an oak tree. And when he wrapped his strong arms around your waist, your knees felt weak and shaky. The entire time you were walking, your heart raced faster than ever before. What the hell was wrong with you? How was it possible for someone to make you feel this way within seconds of meeting them?

The dance floor was filled with people of all ages. An upbeat song played in the background, filling the room with music and laughter. You smiled as you watched Jina and Yeosang dancing. They looked so happy. You noticed Seonghwa, Mingi and Jongho, three of the groomsmen, dancing in a corner while the other groomsmen and bridesmaids laughed.

He was so close to you. You could feel Yunho's warmth radiating from his body, causing goosebumps to form all over your skin. Every movement that he made was like poetry to your ears. Every breath he took sounded so perfect. You closed your eyes and listened to his voice wash over you. For a second, you forgot who you were, what you were doing, and who you were talking to. Everything just faded away except for Yunho and his amazing presence.

As the music slowed down and into a romantic melody, Yunho moved his hands closer to your body and slid his right hand around your lower back. You sucked in a sharp breath and pressed yourself against him, enjoying the sensation of his hard muscles against yours. Your heart pounded rapidly and the entire world disappeared except for the two of you. You were falling. Falling into this incredible dream.

"Is this alright?" Yunho whispered into your ear.

"More than alright." You breathed out, still clinging onto him for dear life. "Perfect."

He continued to hold you in his arms, swaying to the tune of the song. His hand stayed low on your back while his other hand held onto your wrist. He never let go of you.

After dancing with Yunho for a while, you excused yourself to use the restroom. On your way to the bathroom, you ran into Jina who was heading towards the restrooms as well. She stopped short and looked at you with a wide grin.

"So...looks like you and Yunho are hitting it off." She teased. "I don't even know why you were so freaked out about him earlier."

You let out a laugh and hugged her. "Thank you, Jina. For pushing me to go talk to him."

"Y/N, you're my best friend. Of course I'm going to push you to do things you're afraid of." Jina explained. "I want you to be just as happy as I am. So I know you two officially just met but what do you think of him? Yeosang and I were saying earlier that you two looked cute together."

"I don't know why..." You bit your bottom lip. "But I'm having all these weird feelings that I've never had with other guys before. Like...a sense of...home."

Jina smiled. "That's good, Y/N. Trust your gut. If something feels right, it probably is. And besides, who says you need to rush things? You should be able to enjoy this special time in your life."

"Yeah, but this isn't supposed to happen." You complained. "How does someone fall in love so fast?"

"They don't." Jina shrugged. "You just meet the person that you're meant to be with and things fall into place naturally."

You let out a small sigh and turned around to walk towards the restroom. "I never asked but did you feel this way about Yeosang?"

Jina laughed. "When I first laid eyes on Yeosang, I knew I was going to marry that man."

You stopped and turned around again. "Really?"

"Oh yeah." Jina grinned widely. "I knew we were meant to be together since the day I met him."

You smiled as well. "Wow. That's awesome."

"Now you understand what I mean about trusting your gut, right?" Jina said, clapping you on the back.

You glanced at her out of the corner of your eye and nodded. "Yeah, I think I get it."

Before you entered the restroom, Jina leaned in close and whispered into your ear, "You'll find him too, Y/N. Don't lose hope."

Once you finished using the restroom, you headed back to where you and Yunho were sitting. He let out a smile when he saw you coming. Your eyes lingered on his lips for a brief moment and then snapped back up to his face. "Did you get lost?" He asked you.

"No." You shook your head and sat down next to him. "I ran into Jina and we talked for a bit."

Yunho laughed. "Let me guess. She asked about us."

"Yep." You replied. "She said that we looked cute together."

"And do you think we look cute together?" He asked, cocking his head at you.

"A little too early to tell." You let out a laugh. "But I'd like to keep this momentum going. Only if you want to, though."

"Of course I want to keep this momentum going." Yunho replied and let out a laugh. "I'm a fan of momentum."

Before you knew it, you found yourself holding his hand. Not because you were drunk or high, but because you genuinely wanted to. Maybe he did awaken a dormant desire deep inside you, or maybe you just wanted to have fun with a cute boy and this was the best opportunity to do so. Whatever the reason was, you were completely okay with it. And surprisingly enough, neither of you let go of each other's hand.

"Mmmm..." You let out a small moan of satisfaction as you snuggled close to Yunho's body.

The air conditioner hummed softly and the windows were tightly shut, blocking out any noise from outside. There wasn't a lot of light in the room; the only source of light came from the moonlight shining through the window. But that wasn't what caught your attention. It was the warmth of his body that surrounded you that caused goosebumps to appear on your skin. You reached out to touch his shoulder and his arm tightened around your waist, preventing you from moving further. He shifted slightly to turn you on your side, wrapping his arm around your body and pulling you closer.

It had been months since Jina's and Yeosang's wedding and here you were, wrapped in Yunho's embrace. You had your first official date a few days after the wedding and it ended in the most intense kiss you had ever experienced in your life. From that moment onwards, your life was flipped upside down and you didn't regret one thing about it.

Your friends were ecstatic that you and Yunho made it exclusively official. Jina and Yeosang even joked that if you two were going to get married in the near future, that they would have to be part of your wedding party. You weren't even thinking of marriage yet. All you wanted was to enjoy your time with him without worrying about making a mistake. And the fact that you could call him 'my boyfriend' was simply icing on the cake.

When Yunho suggested that you stay the night, you jumped at the chance. As much as you loved spending time with him during the day, nothing beat being curled up with him in bed. Being this close to him made you forget everything else in the world.

You closed your eyes and sighed contently. In that moment, nothing mattered except for you and Yunho.

"Y/N?" A soft voice spoke into your ear. "Are you asleep?"

Your eyelids fluttered open and you turned to see Yunho staring at you with adoration. His hair fell into his eyes and his cheeks were rosy red. His smile made your heart skip a beat. God, he was such a beautiful man.

You shook your head, burrowing your face deeper into his chest. "Not anymore."

Yunho chuckled and lightly kissed your forehead. "You're too cute, babe."

"Mmm...keep calling me cute." You pouted playfully.

Yunho wrapped his arm tighter around you and pulled you closer. "Cute. My girlfriend is cute. So precious. Cute, precious, sweet, adorable, perfect, gorgeous, hot, sexy, beautiful. That pretty much covers every adjective there is when describing you."

Your cheeks blushed. "Gosh, Yunho. What will I ever do with you?"

"There's only one answer to that question." Yunho replied and started tracing random patterns on your stomach. "Take care of me."

Your heart skipped a beat as Yunho lowered his head and placed a gentle kiss on your lips. You leaned forward and cupped his cheek, wanting desperately to deepen the kiss. His mouth was warm and his lips felt so soft against yours. You couldn't help but moan as his tongue slowly brushed against your lips.

Your hands gripped onto his shirt and before you knew it, you were straddling his lap, moaning loudly as he continued kissing your neck. One of his hands ran up and down your thigh while the other caressed your cheek. The intensity between you two grew as the kisses became more heated. You grabbed his face with both hands and crushed your lips against his, giving him full access to explore your mouth. Both of your tongues intertwined and you moaned into his mouth, sending chills throughout your body.

His hands traveled up your legs and you quickly lifted your body off of his, leaving him breathless. "Yunho..." You breathed heavily, running your fingers through his hair.

"What do you want, baby?" He asked with lust-filled eyes.

"I need you." You confessed. "Don't you need me?"

Yunho smiled mischievously. "Every damn minute of the day."

You slid your hand underneath his t-shirt, running your fingers over his stomach. He groaned as your fingers pressed firmly against his skin. He moved his hands to cup your face and pull you in for another kiss. His fingers dug into your hips, pulling you tighter to him. Yunho sat up, tugging his shirt off before grabbing the hem of the t-shirt you borrowed from him and pulled it over your head. He threw it on the floor and admired your naked chest. You licked your lips, breathing heavily as he ran his hands up and down your sides, resting them on your breasts. He pulled your nipples into his fingertips and pinched gently, causing a low moan to escape your throat. He chuckled and planted a firm kiss on your lips.

You rolled over onto your back and pulled him on top of you, wrapping your arms around his neck. He ran his hands over your exposed skin and slowly slid your shorts and panties down your legs. Once you were completely naked, he took off his remaining clothes and lay down next to you, continuing to run his hands over your skin. He traced his fingers across your collarbone, dipping lower until he reached your breasts. You arched your back and grabbed hold of his hair, letting out a loud moan as he circled your nipples with his thumb and forefinger. His fingers pinched your nipple lightly, causing you to arch your back even more.

He licked his lips as he stared hungrily at your naked form. "God, you're so fucking sexy." He muttered under his breath.

Your breathing increased as he explored every inch of your body with his hands. You ran your fingers through his hair and watched as his dark eyes searched for yours. You tilted your head to the side and sucked on your bottom lip as he trailed kisses along your jawline. You closed your eyes and let out a moan as he covered your breast with his mouth, sucking hard on your nipple. Your nails dug into his scalp as he began to trail kisses down your stomach. He pushed himself up on his elbows and looked at you, waiting for you to tell him whether he should continue.

"Please." You whispered.

Yunho grinned wickedly and buried his face between your legs. You tensed as he ran his tongue along your wet slit, lightly brushing your clit. "Oh god..." You moaned as he placed small kisses all along your pussy, stopping briefly to tease your sensitive nub. You squeezed your thighs together, squeezing his head as his tongue ran along your clit.

He let out a little laugh against your inner thigh. "Babe, you’re going to suffocate me.”

You laughed, reaching out to grab his hair again. “I can’t help it. It feels so good.”

Yunho licked his lips. “Then don’t fight it, baby. Just enjoy the ride.”

You whimpered as he flicked his tongue against your clit, causing you to buck your hips. His mouth wrapped around your clit and suckled gently, causing an explosion of pleasure to flow through your body. You cried out and dug your fingernails into his scalp as you bucked harder and harder against his mouth.

"Yunho!" You cried out, unable to take it anymore.

Yunho removed his mouth from your dripping sex and stared at you with hooded eyes. "Let go, Y/N." He whispered. "Just let go."

With one last thrust of his tongue, you lost control and let out a scream as waves of ecstasy flooded through your entire body. You clutched Yunho's head, crying out as your orgasm exploded inside of you. Yunho continued licking your pussy until your orgasms subsided, kissing you tenderly afterwards. You laid there with your eyes closed, taking deep breaths as your heart slowed down.

Yunho propped himself up on his elbow and placed a soft kiss on your lips. "You okay?”

You nodded and placed a kiss on his cheek. "I am now."

Yunho laid next to you and you couldn’t help but straddle him again, tugging his pants down to free his cock. With one hand wrapped around his cock, you positioned yourself above him, lowering yourself slowly onto him. The way he gripped your ass made you gasp as you lowered yourself, allowing him to enter you. You held onto his shoulders tightly as he filled you up, his hips grinding against yours. You leaned forward and ran your tongue along his neck and shoulder, loving how his muscles tightened around you.

"Can't get over how good you feel inside me." You whispered.

Yunho smiled. "Feels good to be inside you, baby."

You wrapped your arms around his neck and kissed him deeply, enjoying the feeling of him filling you up. He let out a deep sigh as you rocked your hips back and forth. Every movement sent delicious sensations coursing through your body.

Yunho leaned his head back and closed his eyes, groaning softly. "Fuck, I love it when you ride me like this."

"Yunho." You gasped, biting his lower lip as you rode him faster.

"I know, baby." He whispered, tightening his grip on your waist. "I love watching you ride me. Love how you look so fucking hot riding my dick."

"Oh god..." You whispered as he pinched your nipples. "Please...Yunho...don't stop."

You could feel his cock pulsating inside of you and Yunho couldn't help but flip you over unto your back, pinning you down on the mattress. You bit your lip as he ground his hips into yours, causing another surge of pleasure to rush through your body. His mouth found its way to your breast and he kissed it roughly. He took his time sucking on your nipple, making you squirm beneath him. His teeth scraped against your sensitive skin and you arched your back, gripping his hair tightly as he pleasured your breast.

"You're driving me crazy, baby." He whispered against your skin. "Tell me what you want."

You bit your lip and glanced up at him. "Yunho...please..."

"Tell me what you want, baby." He said, still teasing your nipple with his teeth.

You let out a frustrated groan and dug your nails into his shoulders. "Yunho...fuck me...harder...please..."

He growled and slammed into you hard, burying himself to the hilt. "That's it, babe. Take my cock. Take everything I give you."

Yunho grabbed hold of your hips and pounded into you with every thrust, making you cry out in pleasure. His large hands grabbed onto your waist and held you in place as he pumped you harder and harder. You wrapped your legs around his waist, clutching his body close to yours. He moved his mouth to your ear and placed soft kisses against your earlobe. "God, you feel so fucking good. Feels so damn good."

He kept pounding into you until you felt the pressure build up inside of you. "Yunho...oh god...I'm gonna come!" You cried out as you clamped down on him, milking his cock.

"Fuck! Fuck! !" He yelled, pumping his hips faster as he came inside of you. You cried out as you climaxed with him, your body trembling as you fought to keep your legs still. You clung onto him tightly as he slowly pulled out of you, gasping for air as he collapsed next to you.

Yunho looked down at you with glazed eyes. "That was...one hell of a fuck." He whispered, caressing your cheek with his hand.

You laughed weakly and shook your head. "Mmmhmm."

"Glad I could be of service, ma'am." He teased, stroking your bare hip with his thumb.

"Uh huh." You giggled, running your fingers through his hair. "Anytime."

You snuggled closer to him and he wrapped his arm around you. "How'd I ever get so lucky?" He whispered against your temple.

You cuddled closer to him and ran your hand down his chest. "We both know it wasn't luck." You whispered. "This has always been meant to be."

Yunho smiled. "Meant to be. Sounds right to me."

"You know Seonghwa invited us to his wedding..." You looked up at him. "You wanna go?"

"Depends." Yunho gave you a teasing smile. "You gonna drool on me again?"

"Maybe..." You smirked.

Yunho laughed and pulled you into a tight hug. "Wouldn't miss it for the world, babe."

[owliellder]

The Finer Details

Post DI! Leon Kennedy x Painter f! Reader

MDNI 18+

(Session 1, Session 2, Session 3, Session 4, Session 5, The Reveal)

Description: Leon realizes that retirement is in his best interest now that he's getting older. All of his accomplishments as an agent mean he's truly earned a painting to commemorate..

Warnings: Not Proofread, Age gap! (reader is anywhere between mid-late 20's and Leon is 40), Porn w/ Plot, Use of she/her pronouns, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Alcoholism, mentions of trauma/PTSD/depression, P in V smut (wrap it NEOW), Leon cries during sex 💔

Tags: Older Leon Kennedy, Younger afab!Reader, Leon is SAD but he is your muse, Crying, mentions of Leon masturbating, starts off with Dom! Leon and Sub! Reader, falls into switch territory because that man needs some serious TLC, Praise kink, Hickeys, Handjob, Nipple play, Oral sex (m! and f! receiving), and a heavy dose of Aftercare

Author Note: You know how each president of the U.S. gets a painting at the end of their term? I'm thinking like that. Plus, my favorite hobby is recreating renaissance art, so I figured this was a good fit (hopefully).

Cross posted onto AO3

Session 1: The Sketches

It was late at night when Leon made his decision to retire fully.

He had gotten home over an hour ago from reviewing mountains of paperwork, most of which pertained to missions that other agents have gone on or will be going on.

Younger agents. More energized agents.

The fact that he hadn't gone on a full mission since San Francisco was driving him up the wall. But that's what he wanted. He requested to hang back the last two years.

Both Chris and Claire had fully retired themselves right after San Fran, Claire being the first to retire to focus on her growing family with Chris following suit only a few months later. Jill was still around, but she was doing similar work that Leon was, only she was in a completely different department which was states away.

Of course Leon still talked with them all as regularly as possible, he'd go insane if he didn't, especially with Claire having a couple kids now. He wasn't the greatest with children, but it was refreshing seeing his friends achieve such normalcy. He wanted them to have the best life they could away from everything.

Having turned 40 a few some months ago, Leon was having a bit of a mid-life crisis. The mission to San Francisco a couple years ago had made him realize just how much toll the job itself had taken on his body. After being assessed and allowed home a few nights after returning from the mission, his body ached; joints creaking, back nearly thrown, just... tired.

Don't get him wrong, he was always tired after missions, but this was different. This wasn't just the regular aches and pains he dealt with after being tossed around like a rag doll, this was age.

Deep in his mind, Leon was still that 21 year old boy in Raccoon City. He never got the chance to properly grieve and move on, his mind forever changed by that event. Mentally, he was stuck there and had been this entire time.

It had taken the man this long to truly recognize the fact that he's older now. He's not that boy from Raccoon City anymore. He hadn't been in a long time.

What was he do to now? Leon had wanted so badly to serve and protect the people, but not like this. Not like he has for the past 29 years.

He spent his most formative years fighting unimaginable horrors, watching people suffer, watching people die. You don't just come back from something like that.

And unlike the friends he's managed to keep close, Leon didn't have someone he trusted. Hell, he barely trusted himself most days.

So now here he was, sitting drunk in his shower with his legs pulled up to his chest, his arms resting atop his knees while the water pelted down on him, silently mulling over everything he's ever seen and done during his time as an agent.

The water had grown cold at this point, Leon having quickly lost track of how long he was sitting spaced out like that for. Thankfully, he'd already cleaned himself before he ended up sitting down, so the hardest part now was just standing back up to get himself back out.

It took him a couple more minutes before he finally hoisted himself up with a tired groan, both his knees popping from being stuck in position for such a lengthy amount of time.

Once out of the shower, towel loosely wrapped around his waist, Leon stared at himself in the mirror; busy studying the crow's feet on both outer corners of his eyes as well as the prominent bags sitting under them, the smile line around his mouth, his now brown hair, the stubble on his face and neck that's he's neglected to shave, and just how exhausted he looked.

How has he never noticed any of this before? Why's he look so different now?

Settling into bed after this brutal realization was a tough task. The man followed his nightly routine of taking four Tylenol and two of his prescription sleep meds before setting his a/c 65 degrees Fahrenheit. He learned quickly many years ago that tossing and turning at night would make him overheat and sweat.

But tonight, nothing Leon did could ease that sinking feeling in his chest, that feeling of unfulfillmemt and shame weighing on him more than ever before.

The poor man barely slept at all last night, hangover evident by the way he was still slightly uneven on his feet as he leaned over the center island in his kitchen, head between his forearms while his hands sat clasped together.

Leon knew what he had to do. He's been feeling it ever since Chris and Claire made their departure, but it was so easy to deny. How was he suppose to give up the one thing that made him important? Sure the stress of his work was heavily tasking on the mind and body, but it's what gave him purpose. He felt useful doing what he did.

The man showed up for work late that day, barely having managed to dress himself. He didn't know exactly who to go to in this scenario, but everyone seemed surprised that the Leon Kennedy would show up for work in some ratty t-shirt and grey sweatpants. The stares were making him incredibly uncomfortable and he was quickly regretting showing up at all.

After sitting in his own office for awhile to avoid the looks and whispers, Leon eventually sauntered over to his superior's office, an almost solemn look on his face as he let himself in after knocking.

Needless to say, Leon was relieved his superior knew this was coming. Slightly offended, but relieved nonetheless.

It had been a long time coming, and it was only a matter of time before Leon threw in the towel, especially since he was now just working behind the scenes instead of on the frontline.

He was allowed to return home for the rest of the day if he wanted to, which Leon quickly took. He really didn't want to be in that building for much longer.

As soon as he returned home he went right back to drinking. And as ashamed as he is to admit, he even cried a little, half empty whiskey bottle in one hand while the other was clenched tightly into a fist as he gripped the pant leg of his sweats.

There wasn't anyone Leon could talk to about this. Chris and Claire had their own respective partners to come home to after retirement, but Leon? Leon had nothing besides a dingy and cold two bedroom house with only the basics inside, including his alcohol cabinet.

The man didn't even give himself time to date, only the occasional one night stand with randoms from the bar. He was too afraid that he would endanger anyone he allowed into his life like that, not to mention he'd been betrayed one too many times to trust in someone that way again. It was his way of keeping himself and everyone else safe.

The therapists he was assigned throughout the years all had the same concern regarding his love life, and deep down Leon was just as concerned, but he rationalized it with that hero complex he developed.

But he just couldn't rationalize it anymore. Leon was alone. He was alone, sad, and afraid.

About a month after Leon's retirement was processed and announced, word spread quickly throughout numerous government branches. There was a celebration set up at the White House to honor his service as a field agent.

The President had separated him and Leon from the party to slowly walk through the many hallways in the building. The old man could tell just how bothered the now ex-agent was by his retirement, so he figured now would be the best time to talk to him about his final task.

"You know," The President spoke up after a couple minutes of the two walking in silence, prompting Leon to slowly turn his head to listen. "I'm sure you've heard it so many times tonight, but you truly were one of the best agents I've ever seen."

Leon chuckled quietly, shaking his head a bit at the compliment. He had heard it a lot tonight, but obviously it was different coming from him.

"I'm serious. This county, probably the entire world, would've been in shambles if not for your hours spent." The President continued, slowing his walking to a stop.

"It means more than you know." Leon responded simply, voice a bit gravelly from the few drinks he's had. He took a couple steps more before stopping as well, turning around to face the prominent old man.

The President sighed, giving him a sympathetic smile while nodding. They stood in silence for a brief moment before the old man spoke up again, pointing lazily down the hall. "Follow me, I've got something I want to show you."

From there, the two wandered further down the halls until eventually reaching one hall that had lights more centered towards the walls, highlighting the picture frames that sat evenly spaced out amongst them.

Leon seemed a tad confused until he was able to focus on the first painting they walked by. He knew each president got a portrait painted after their full term was served, but the man in this painting wasn't a past president.

He stopped walking to stand in front of the painting, admiring the details it had before glancing down at the bottom of the elegant frame, a placard reading a name he didn't recognize. What he did recognize, though, was the word Agent that sat in front of the man's name.

While zoned into the placard, Leon didn't register the gentle hand that had been clasped on his shoulder, the President's voice breaking through his trance. "For as long as there's been bioweapons, we've had agents fighting to stop them. But only a few agents have truly outdone themselves. Agents like you."

Leon blinked a couple times before turning his head to look at the hand on his shoulder, eyebrows furrowed. He wasn't quite understanding what he was saying.

The President took his silence as a cue to continue, his sympathetic smile turning into a happier one as he gently tugged Leon's shoulder to get him to start walking again. "The D.S.O. has produced some of the greatest agents since Benford created it back in 2011. You were amazing before, but you've outdone yourself time and time again."

Leon still wasn't quite understanding, really only half listening as he kept his eyes trained to the numerous portraits of agents as he slowly passed them.

The two stopped in front of the last painting in the hallway, only a few spots away from leading into another hallway. It was Chris and Claire in this painting. Chris was sitting down in a chair while Claire stood next to him, hand resting on back of it, both of them smiling.

He studied the painting for a minute longer before whipping his head around to face the President, who was still smiling, as the realization slowly settling in.

"I-" Leon struggling to speak, glancing back at the painting before quickly looking back at the old man standing next to him.

The President simply nodded his head, smile widening with a gentle laugh. "Right. The painting process takes a bit of time, but I think you've more than earned this."

The ex-agent had so many questions. Firstly, why hadn't Chris or Claire mentioned this? But more importantly, he gets to have his own portrait painted?

"The painter knows all about you. She's excited to meet you." The President started down the hall again, Leon not far behind, still stuttering out nonsense as he attempted to form even a sentence. "I'll give you the information you need to get started with her. I have it written down back in my office."

A painting?

A painting. A painting for him. A painting to honor him. What?

Leon was once again sat on his couch, blankly staring at the small business card with a date and time written on it in pen. He'd read the info on the card so many times already, wanting to make sure he got absolutely nothing wrong.

Apparently he didn't have to call and confirm, all he had to do was show up to this random address at a specific date and time, which was soon. In a couple days kind of soon. Also, he thought he was reading the time wrong, but no, it was four in the morning, not four in the afternoon. What an odd and rather inconvenient time.

Even after memorizing the business card front to back, Leon would be lying if he said he didn't forget about meeting up with this mystery painter. He'd been rather aloof the past couple months, it was hard to pull himself out of that funk. He'd been staying up late and sleeping in even later, so hitting snooze on his alarm a good few times was just muscle memory at this point.

It was almost 5am when he realized where he was suppose to be, eyes shooting open as he yanked himself out of bed, desperately trying to clean himself up enough to be at least presentable.

The man was mentally chastising himself the entire drive. It was a short drive, which he was surprised by, and the building seemed quaint; red brick with large windows that sat on what looked like either a second or third floor.

He parked his bike right near what he assumed was the main door, pulling off his motorcycle helmet before knocking and waiting.

The last thing Leon was expecting was you to unlock and open that door; young and pretty, so pretty...

"Mr. Kennedy?" You asked, eyebrows raised slightly with a small smile. He nodded, just barely noticeable, reaching a gloved hand up to wipe at his eyes as he caught himself staring.

Your smile only widened at his nod, stepping aside to allow him into walk in. It took him a minute to realize you were still talking, shaking his head out to refocus himself.

"-again, really, no need to worry about being late. I was trying to work with your schedule but I should've known it's changed up a bit by now, right?" You lead him up a set of narrow stairs, though he was mostly following the smell of your perfume. It was such a light smell but he definitely picked up on it.

You opened a door immediately to the left of the stairs, letting Leon follow you inside. The sun was just starting to rise, shining through the large windows in the open room.

The place was cluttered, yet organized. Crowded, but that just made it all the cozier to Leon. His house was bare and lacked any sort of personality, but this... this place was covered in you.

"I'm glad you like it in here." You said in a quiet voice, looking up at him as he took in your workspace. He was smiling ever so slightly, which you mimicked with a smile of your own. "I try to make it welcoming in here, my apartment is the same way.."

Your voice trailed off as you walked over to a mostly put together set up near the back of the room where the only wall without windows sat. There was a chair sitting close to the wall, the same chair Chris was sitting in for his portrait with Claire, along with your easel sitting empty a few feet away.

Leon stood frozen, only moving his head around as he took everything in. He followed you with his eyes as you fumbled around with something, eventually producing a blank 24" x 36" canvas that was still wrapped in thin plastic.

His mouth made an 'o' shape as he pulled himself from his small trance once again, beginning to slowly make his way over to the set up you've made. He placed his helmet down on the floor beside the chair.

After placing the canvas on the easel, you walked back over to where you'd gotten the canvas from before grabbing a heavily used sketchbook. It was a large one, the paper a light brown instead of white.

Leon had only just realized that there was a faint sound of some form of classical music playing from somewhere in the room, glancing around for speakers before looking back over at you.

"I'm not getting started today, we're a couple steps away from that, so don't worry about appearance just yet." You said softly with a breathy laugh, quickly making your way back over to where he stood next to the plush chair in your setup, his hand feeling over the worn maroon fabric.

Leon nodded silently, moving to sit down once you requested he did, furrowing his eyebrows as he watched you drag over a small table. You worked fast, that's for sure.

Eventually, you'd set up a little tabletop easel to sit on the table you'd dragged in front of him, grabbing your swivel chair to sit in as you placed your sketchbook on the easel, open to a blank page.

"I just need to get some basic ideas of your facial structure since that's most important when it comes to these kinds of paintings. You're gonna be wearing a nice tuxedo when I do the second- no, third sketch for the final painting, but this is just for me to get a feel for you and vise versa." You rambled quickly, pulling out a pencil from one of your pockets before fully sitting down on the chair, bringing your legs up to sit criss cross.

"Uh.. Alright..." Leon responded, clearing his throat a bit. He didn't really understand what you'd said, you spoke a little too fast for his tired brain to keep up, but it seemed like whatever you were doing was necessary so he just rolled with it.

He was left a little speechless again at how you just began sketching, glancing up to his face and down to the page you were working on over and over. "...do you need me to, I don't know, pose or something?"

The way you kept looking at him was making feel a little uneasy. Granted he's never been in this sort of situation before, this whole process was very unfamiliar to him.

"No, no. You can move your head around and stuff. Get comfortable." You waved off, eyes wrinkling as you smiled at him. Leon nodded again, deciding to take the opportunity to look around your workspace again.

It really was a cozy space. Full of color and life, even the curtains you had lining the windows offered so much pattern and detail to the room. The back of the room where the two of you sat was more cluttered with less decor, but the front of the room was a whole different story with those massive floor pillows, blankets of all sorts strewn about, that big fluffy looking area rug, it was all so... homey. It was even inspiring him to decorate his own house a bit.

The sound of your pencil scribbling on paper and the faint sound of the classical music playing was all Leon could hear for awhile, eventually letting out an anxious sigh before beginning to talk. "So... a painter, huh..?"

"Oh yeah, I've been doing this since I was little. Obviously I wasn't that good back then, but I really improved after high school." You immediately responded, voice a little louder than his. Clearly the topic excites you. "If you want, I can hand you one of my other sketchbooks to look at while I do my thing over here?"

Leon patted his hands against the arms of the chair before nodding to the side, pursing his lips slightly. "Mm, sure. Let's see what ya got.."

As soon as he agreed, you stood up and shuffled over to the corner of the room where some desks sat arranged in a makeshift cubicle. You opened a drawer and pulled out a couple sketchbooks, still as raggedy as the one you were using now.

Walking back over, you carefully handed them to him, which he slowly took after meeting your eyes for a brief moment.

Once you made your way back to your chair, he placed both sketchbooks into his lap, opening up the one on top first. The man flipped through them silently as you began to sketch him out again.

You'd zoned into your work, adding just a bit of shading to your sketches to help emphasis some features when Leon cleared his throat again. You leaned to the side to look at him, your smile quickly returning when you saw his baffled expression.

"These are... wow, okay, how old are you?" Leon asked, head jerking upwards to meet your gaze once more. You just giggled in response, using the pencil as a fidget before returning to sketching.

"Sorry-uh, I don't mean to come off as rude or anything, but to be honest, I was expecting you to be some old lady when I saw the portraits you've done." Leon was quick to try and explain, probably misinterpreting your lack of response for unease.

Your giggle turned to a small laugh, leaning to the side once more to look at the man. "Well, I'm glad I could surprise you a bit. Hopefully I don't look old."

Leon groaned and wiped his hand down his face. "Again, sorry. Didn't mean to imply." He shook his head and looked back down at the two sketchbooks sitting in his lap, continuing to flip through them.

It was only a couple hours until you decided you got a good enough feel for drawing his face. Grabbing the sketchbook, you stood up, pencil still in hand, looking down at the sketches you made as you slowly walked over to him.

The man noticed you standing up, quickly moving to close the sketchbooks you'd given him in favor of seeing your new sketches.

"I... I think this'll be enough today. I don't want to keep you too long." You said, handing him the sketchbook. Leon took it from you, careful not to smudge anything as he finally got to see what you've been doing for the past two hours.

He furrowed his eyebrows as he studied the sketches you'd made of his face, seeing all the different angles, even the smile, how'd you get his smile?

You seemed to grow nervous the longer he stared at your sketchbook in silence, his intense look making it seem as if he didn't really like them. "Are they... Are they okay?"

Leon jostled the sketchbook a bit in his hands before standing up, now towering over you as he kept his eyes on the paper. "Just okay? These are beyond amazing."

You let out a small breath you didn't notice you were holding, heat rushing to your cheeks as you smiled at his compliment. "Oh, thank you.. I'm sorry, normally sketches don't take this long but it was stressed to me that your portrait was very important so I wanted to get everything as perfect as I could.."

"Seriously, you're a mad woman if you think these wouldn't be good." Leon chuckled, handing the sketchbook back to you. He kept his eyes trained on you, even after you turned to look down and close the sketchbook. Only a fool would miss that blush on your cheeks, it looked good on you.

"Anyways, when should I come back for the next.. uh..." Leon paused, crossing his arms loosely as he struggled to think of the word.

Luckily, you finished the sentence for him. "Session. Again, this painting's importance was stressed to me a lot, so probably the next time you're available?" You talked while you shifted the small table back to where it had originally sat under one of the numerous windows, tossing the sketchbook down on the chair cushion.

"Alright, since it's importance has now been stressed to me as well, I can probably clear up some stuff in my schedule. How's tomorrow sound?" Obviously, Leon had a completely free schedule, but you didn't need to know that.

"Tomorrow works great! The sooner the better!" You laughed, placing a gentle hand on his bicep as you walked past him to grab a sticky note. "I'll give you my personal number, just let me know when you're thinking of coming over and I'll meet you here, okay?"

Leon looked at your number before pocketing the note, nodding his head with a smile of his own. "Sounds good. Same way out?" He pointed to the door that you brought him in through, bending down to pick up his motorcycle helmet right after.

You confirmed with a thumbs up, now drinking water from your water bottle as you'd forgotten too while focused on drawing. You felt bad for not offering him any water while he was here, but you won't forget next time.

The man gave you a curt wave before leaving the room, quietly shutting the door behind himself.

You had to admit, you've worked with a very small handful of agents since it takes a lot for them to earn their own portrait, but Leon Kennedy had to be the one of the most handsome men you've ever worked with. Maybe even one of the most handsome men you've ever seen.

Lucky you pay attention to detail, cause you definitely didn't see a ring on his finger.

[erodasfishtacos]

Digging A Deeper Hole || MLB ||

Prompt: Harry is going through a rough adjustment to his new life. At twenty-one, he was the face of a massive franchise, a father, and a husband with millions watching his every mood. He starts to feel it. Word Count: 7.8k Warnings: Depression, Anxiety, Angst - please keep in mind H is young here so he’s a bit more immature than one shots where he’s older. He’s still figuring stuff out

AUTHORS NOTES:

There is 5 more part to this up on patreon (17k words, a 25.1k fic overall)

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There are currently 300 + pieces available to read

It only cost $3USD —— thanks for any support and check me out here!

========================= Harry had the weight on the world on his shoulders.

The past year had been the best but most stressful time that he has ever had in his life.

He hadn’t had a break, it was go, go, go.

At the age of twenty-one, it felt like he had responsibilities that most people never had this amount of.

He had expectations from every side, especially from work, though it sounded like a dream to be the new face of Major League Baseball, to be the highest paid rookie to start, or the fact that he was a projected to be one of the best players of all time.

It came at a cost.

A really fucking big cost.

It took Harry a while to realize that he was experiencing some depression, the pressure of his coaches, the team, the public, and on top of that, he was navigating being newly married with a baby.

++

”Styles, get off the phone!” His assistant coach shouted from the field, he should be jogging onto the mound because practice was nearly over, and everyone was ready to head back to the hotels.

“Hold the fuck on!” Harry shouts back without looking up, waiting for the FaceTime call to connect, he had thought he had more time before they started up again.

Harry’s heart leaps when it connects, his perfect baby in the camera view, blowing raspberries between chewing on teether that looked like car keys, “Say ‘hi’ to your daddy!”

Easton is too little to quite comprehend the phone but he blinks in confusion at the screen before blowing another wet raspberry towards his father.

”Hi East, look at how handsome you look,” Harry croons, trying to memorize every little feature because he’s only going to be this small for a little while, “Your daddy misses you so much.”

YN pulls the phone to her face for a moment, “I took him on a walk around Central Park earlier today and he saw a group of pigeons. He squealed so loudly that they all flew away in a flock and he started giggling. I wish I would have gotten it on video.”

”He really does love the pigeons-“ Harry begins but is cut off.

”Styles, final warning. Get off your phone or I’m locking it up! Now,” The other coach yells, starting to actually get pissed, and Harry has to resist the urge to flip them off.

”H,” YN says knowingly, it was pretty common that he was getting yelled at, “Go practice.”

“I want to be home with you,” Harry frowns, he truly means it.

”I know,” YN agrees with kind understanding on her face, “Go kick some ass for us.”

++

He didn’t get to spend the time he wanted at home with his family, the away games caused him to panic, and he was starting to have anxiety attacks as he steps onto the private jet.

Harry was blowing YN’s phone up at any free moment he got, asking to FaceTime to see her and Easton, and YN had noticed how much more he was asking for reassurance, it was frequent.

++

”He’s sleepy. He just fed for almost an hour,” YN murmurs, tired herself and her eyes were heavy, it was undeniable that she had a lot on her plate with taking care of Easton by herself.

YN did see Anne once or twice a week but she was adamant that she did not need help raising her own baby, that she was fully capable of taking care of Easton by herself when Harry wasn’t home.

Easton was ten-months at this point, splayed on his mother’s chest with a milk-drunk little smile as he laid his small fist on her neck, easily starting to drift to sleep.

Harry feels a pang of disgusting, gnarly guilt and disappointment that he’s not there to lay in bed with them, and he felt like a piece of shit for sitting in this swanky hotel room by himself.

”Harry?” YN asks after he doesn’t respond, he was just watching the screen as his wife ran her fingers through Easton’s soft baby curls, silky smooth.

Harry swallows harshly to avoid the tears prickling, “I love you so much. You know that?”

YN smiles at him, soft and warm, “We love you so much. We miss you and cannot wait for you to get home. We both want so many cuddles with you.”

Harry’s jaw clenches, scrunching his nose, and feel the pit in his stomach get deeper, darker, rawer, and it felt overwhelming as he sat alone with his family on the other side of the country.

It felt suffocating that he wanted to go home but he couldn’t because he had a contract, a job, he had to provide, and he worked his whole life to be where he’s at.

He’s in a position that billions would want to be in but all he can think about is being with his family, he would give up everything he’d ever accomplished to cuddle with them every night.

But he couldn’t, deep down, he knew that it was his emotions getting the best of him, and it’s disappointing that he’s not enjoying baseball like he thought he would right now.

“I…I’m sorry,” Harry sniffles, rubbing his eye roughly to catch the tears before they fall any further.

YN’s smile falls which makes him feel even worse, “Baby, what’s wrong? Why are you apologizing?”

”I’m not there to help you,” Harry presses his face into his forearm to try to stop the tears, “I’m just sittin’ here in a hotel room, I’m fuckin’ useless to you.”

”Hey,” YN says firmly, lips going into a straight line, “Harry, you are not useless. How could you think that? You’re providing for us. You make it possible for me to stay at home, in this beautiful home, with everything we’d ever need, and spend every moment with Easton. That’s because of you.”

It makes Harry feel a bit better, that perspective on the situation because he hadn’t looked at it like that, “I’ll always provide for you two.”

”You’re the best provider. We love you so much. We are so proud of you. Easton is going to be so so proud of his daddy and what a good man you are to us,” YN tells him confidently, thter’s no wavering in her voice as she watches Harry’s reaction.

Harry hangs his head, done trying to stop the tears, he didn’t feel good.

He had felt depression a few times in his life, the most when he was going through his struggles with his sexuality, and it was starting to feel like that again.

”Harry,” YN’s voice is soft, careful, “Are you okay, baby? What made you so upset?”

Harry wipes his face with the back of his hand, he didn’t want to worry YN.

She had so much on her plate right now that the last thing she needed to worry about was his mental health because he needed to pull it together and stop being so emotional.

”I just miss you,” Harry tells her, it wasn’t a lie but it really wasn’t the full truth, there was so much more to it than what he was letting on but he could handle it on his own.

Lord knows he had enough time while he was sitting in this hotel room alone or had a flight on the private jet.

++

Harry felt like a car ran him over, twice, and then backed up over him.

He did as good as everyone expected him to do during the games in San Diego, he won all three of the games with too many strikeouts to count, and two home runs to get them scores.

Harry was able to shut his mind off during the games, all he was thinking about was his job, and what he needed to do to make sure that they won the games - that was it.

Afterwards, the creeping feelings that had been haunting him especially hard this past month or so wouldn’t wait very long to pop up again after the games.

He started demanding a flight home the night of the last game, everyone else always waited until the next day because traveling right after playing was near torture with the exhaustion.

Harry felt like death as he landed in New York City, his bones were heavy as if they weighed a thousand pounds each, his arm was sore from how many pitches he had to throw, and he hadn’t been sleeping well when he was away from YN and the baby.

His heart was a bit lighter as he opened the front door to their home, the smell of his favorite brownies hitting his nose, and a peel of bubbly, angelic baby giggles echoed through the hallway.

Harry needed to see them, he dropped his bag and didn’t care that his cologne bottle most likely just shattered inside because of how careless he was being.

No, he was making his way toward the smell and sounds, and when he found what he waas looking for - his stomach untwisted just the slightest and everything didn’t seem so bleak for a moment.

YN turns around, having been alerted to his entrance by his bag dropping, Easton was on her hip and had a spatula in his hand, gnawing on it happily.

”Who is that, East?” YN bounces him up and down, “Is that your daddy?”

Harry wants to cry tears of relief when Easton drops the spatula, letting it clatter onto the tile, and starts to cry.

He was the cutest little thing.

Whenever Harry got home from work, Easton would start to cry because he wanted him, and was sad like he just realized that he had been missing him all day and he was finally home with him.

”Oh my goodness,” YN hums as Easton wiggles, starting to reach out for him with grabbing hands, dramatic tears running down his face as his pouty bottom lip wobbles.

”No tears, bub,” Harry coos as he steps forward, taking Easton out of her arms, and giving him the biggest hug he can manage as he presses kisses to the side of his face, his hair, his nose, “I missed you so much. I hate being away from you, East, miss you every moment.”

YN is watching with a content smile, patiently waiting her turn as he blinks over at her, his voice still soft and raspy, “Hi mama.”

”Hi H,” YN whispers back, stepping forward to cup his jaw and bring their lips together in a kiss, her thumb rubbing the stubble of his jawline and her other squeezing his hip, “I missed you.”

Harry hates that he feels the lump in his throat, “I fuckin’ missed you so much. I can’t explain how much I hate being away from you and him. I am so grateful that you’re so good to me and East. You know that?”

One of YN’s love languages was definitely words of affirmation so to hear such nice compliments really did mean a lot to her because she didn’t always feel the most secure either.

It was a lot to have her husband traveling all the time, where if he wanted, there would be unlimited opportunities for him to make bad choices because there was not a shortage of men and women who would bed him without a second thought.

YN had complete and utter trust in him.

It wasn’t ever a real concern but when Harry was as gorgeous as he was, it was hard not to feel a bit of insecurity when people often let it be known how much they found him attractive.

”Thank you, H,” YN brings him in for another kiss, “Dinner is almost ready. Brownies are also baking in the oven. Easton was my little helper but was trying to get his chunky fingers in the raw batter which he had an attitude about when I told him ‘no’.”

”You better listen to your mama,” Harry hums at his son, munching at his neck until Easton is giggling and pulling at his curls to keep him close, he loved his father so much, “Be nice to mama, Easton Robin.”

YN reaches forward, “Go get a shower. Settle in a little bit.”

Harry passes Easton back but frowns, “Darling, I can take him and manage. You have had him for the last week.”

YN waves him off, “I got him for a few minutes longer. Get showered, dressed, then we can eat dinner, and cuddle. Okay?”

”Sounds like a dream,” Harry replies because it really does, all that he wants is to be able to hold them in his arms, and start filling this hole that starts to eat away at him every time he has to leave.`

++

After Harry showers, he tugs on his briefs, and sits on the edge of the bed.

He doesn’t know how he fell asleep like that but it seemed to happen nearly as soon as he plopped down on the plush of their bed because he hadn’t slept in nearly twenty-four hours, after an exhausting game and seven hours of travel.

The next time he wakes up, it’s completely dark in the bedroom, and he blinks his eyes open to see the alarm clock reading that it was three in the morning.

YN was fast asleep on her side of the bed, baby monitor on the side table, and Easton was sleeping in his nursery on his back with a binky halfway out of his mouth.

Harry squeezes his eyes shut, putting his fists to them for a moment as he grits his teeth, “Fuck fuck fuck.”

He gets out of bed, not wanting to disturb YN, she looked so fucking pretty while she slept and Harry was in disbelief of what a fucking idiot he was.

YN not only watched Easton for the past week, she managed everything else for their household, made Harry dinner and dessert, all for him to fall asleep.

She needs a break from the baby, YN should have gotten one last night after all her hard work, and Harry just went and fell asleep like a bloody teenager with no responsibilities.

He grabs the baby monitor so that YN won’t be woken up, hoping that she will sleep in for as long as possible in the morning, and Harry can take on baby duties.

Harry’s plan was to clean the house, the least he could do as an apology but everything was near spotless thanks to his wife, and when he went into the kitchen to clean the dishes from dinner.

There were none, YN had put all the leftovers away, wrapped the brownies, and cleaned all the pots and pans - as well as all of Easton’s bottles.

”Fuck me,” Harry grunts as he resists the urge to hit something, instead slamming his fists on the countertop, and staring at nothing as he feels the deep hole become bigger, “Such a fuck-up.”

Harry doesn’t even know what he can do to repay her, to make it up to her, and the mixture of his anxiety and depression had to be the gnarliest combination because they were kicking his ass.

His anxiety starts taking over and an intrusive thought starts to pop into his brain and he can’t shake it.

What if she leaves you?

What if she doesn’t think you’re a good enough father?

She does all this for you and you treat her like shit the moment you come home?

You don’t deserve her.

Harry’s throat tightens up, it feels hard to breathe for a few minutes as he tries taking slow, deep inhales before repeating the process to help try to regulate his breathing.

He had to make this up to her.

++

Harry manages Easton by himself, that wasn’t an issue, and he was even able to run out to grab YN’s favorite donuts from a few blocks down before she was up.

Harry was currently in the living room, laying on the floor with Easton as he played with these soft, big blocks, and smiled at his father with only two little teeth showing on his bottom gums.

”Morning, well afternoon,” YN laughs as she looks at the clock on the wall, it was nearly twelve and she was able to catch up on all the sleep she desperately needs, “You didn’t need to let me sleep for that long, H. I appreciate it though, felt super nice to be able to get re-energized.”

”It’s the least I could do,” Harry replies, the enthusiasm that was usually in his voice was missing, and he struggled to meet her eye because he was embarassed.

YN knows something is off as she sits down next to them, scooping Easton up and tucking him under her big shirt where he can excitedly start to nurse - he very begrudgingly used a bottle but it was always a bit more difficult to get him to eat with one.

”Are you sure you’re okay?” YN frowns as she rubs his knee, “You seem down. Did something happen?”

”I’m a piece of shit,” Harry chuckles without humor, throwing his hands up, “Isn’t it obvious? I leave you at home with the baby and then the minute I get home, I fall asleep and don’t do shit to help you. On top of that, you made dinner and I didn’t even eat it.”

YN’s frown turns into more of a scowl, “Harry, what has you talking like this? Did someone say something to you? I don’t like when you talk like that. You were exhausted! You were just away for a week, training and playing, and have so much other than that going on. Do you really think that I’m mad about that?”

“I’m mad about how I acted because it effects you,” Harry grits back, his anxiety and depression had a tendency to make him cranky in a way that he normally wouldn’t be, “It’s no excuse. You get no excuses. I need to do better.”

”You need to stop talking like that,” YN retorts as she stares back at him with a twitch of her brow, “Everything is fine. We are fine. Nothing is wrong. This is how our life looks sometimes and that’s okay. You are doing this to take care of us.”

“It feels pretty fuckin’ selfish right now,” Harry shakes his head, standing up and trying to hide the wince from how achey his muscles were, he should do a cold plunge but he’s not going to take anymore time for himself - he dosn’t deserve it.

“How is it selfish?” YN is getting frustrated, her leg shaking slightly but then she stops when she realizes that it’s jostling Easton and he whines in displeasure.

”I get to get a full night’s sleep in a luxury hotel room, you’re here.”

YN scoffs, licking over her teeth, “Yeah, Harry. It’s a massive hardship, living in a three million dollar home in the middle of the Upper East Side. I think I’ll survive.”

“That’s not the fuckin’ point,” Harry cracks his neck, his anxiety made his heart rate feel like he was constantly running a marathon, it was hard for him to keep his composure.

”Don’t talk to me like that,” YN raises her voice, moving to get up with Easton still suckling away, “This isn’t how you show appreciation, Harry. I’m just trying to have a conversation and you have an attitude.”

Harry knows that he’s just going to continue to dig himself a deeper pit than he’s already in if he keeps talking.

Most of the time, he did not feel like like a twenty-one year old despite his boyish looks but right now, he felt like he was acting his age and it wasn’t a good thing.

”Why don’t you take Easton and see your mom today,” YN offers, her voice is still tight but trying to keep it cordial as she brings Easton out from under her shirt.

He was blinking languidly, his lips smacking in satisfaction as his belly was full, and YN hands him over to Harry to take, “Yeah, I’ll get him ready and go.”

It was a good opportunity to give YN a break but he was honestly a bit surprised that she took him up on it or that she didn’t want to come with because when Harry came home, they tried to stay together as much as possible.

He does know that he’s acting like a complete dickhead which makes sense why she wasn’t dying to spend time with him right night, still it was just odd because it’s unlike her.

”Sounds good,” YN pulls out her phone, looking down and fingers flitting across the screen which was also a bit odd, how she was a distracted by it because it was unlike her just like her letting him go alone.

God, Harry was making a fucking mess, wasn’t he? +++++++++++++++++

It stuck out like a sore thumb when Harry was off.

Normally, he was the most easy-going, bubbly, funny person who stole most of the attention when he wasn’t even trying.

It was how he captured everyone’s interest whether it was his big grin that had his dimples showing deep in the pockets of his cheeks, the way he threw his head back and let out these low raspy chuckles, or just how he nodded attentively when someone else was talking.

So when he wasn’t feeling like himself, all those things that lit up rooms disappeared, and it was hard for him to socialize.

Harry was still beating himself up the entire ride outside of the city to his mother’s house, Easton was napping in the back and this would be a nice sleep before the excitement of Nana’s house.

Harry was replaying everything with YN, from the way he was sharp with her to get short with her when she did absolutely nothing to deserve that from him because she was so fucking good to him - all the time.

YN never complained about anything.

She never complained about being at home with the baby alone.

YN never tied to guilt Harry because he was away during the season so much.

It makes it so much worse that he’s not able to hold his shit together even just for YN, he didn’t want her to worry about his mental health, that’s the last thing she needed on her plate.

He was going to figure this out himself.

It wasn’t that he didn’t feel like he couldn’t talk to her, it was more that he knew she cares so much that it might upset her or make her worry when he’s on the road, all he wants for her is to focus on Easton and herself.

Harry normally loves going up to his mom’s, a little lake house that he had bought her with one of his first paychecks, despite how much she huffed and puffed, he knew that it was a dream of hers to live on the water.

It was the least he could do after she did so much to make his dreams come true.

However, despite Harry getting a decent amount of sleep, he felt bone tired and just drained was the best way to explain it - he felt like all the energy that he normally feels has been sucked clean out of him.

He wanted to turn the car around, go home, crawl into bed with YN and Easton, and not have to interact with anyone else for at least a week but that wasn’t possible with his schedule.

Harry should be enjoying his time right now.

They have an off week which meant that he had nearly two and a half weeks at home because the following week were games at their home stadium so he could be home every night.

Harry just couldn’t wait for this season to be over.

And that thought alone alarmed him because he fucking loved baseball, he loved being the best of the best, he loved all the recognition he got but right now his desire was lower than it’s been in a really long time.

When he pulls down the long driveway, a house sat back off the residential road where she had neighbors but there was a good amount of distance between the them to give privacy and seclusion.

He sees that there are multiple cars in the driveway which makes Harry groan because he didn’t realize that his mom was going to call over friends and family since he was coming to visit.

Anne did that sometimes, when Harry called saying that he’d be up, she would call aunts, uncles, relatives, and close friends to come for a barbecue, and it was the last thing he wanted right now.

He was already a bit peeved that his mother didn’t ask him first because he would have very clearly told her that he wasn’t in the mood to entertain people, to answer questions, and talk about baseball for a good five hours.

When Harry opens the back door, Easton’s already awake and smiling at his father with a gummy smile, his two bottom baby teeth made him look so adorable but he knew that more were going to popping through soon.

”Hi, sweetheart,” Harry hums softly as he unbuckles his baby, bringing him up into his arms and into a hug, kissing his temple, “I love you so much, you know that? M’only away so that you have everythin’ you’d ever want. Miss you every second-“

A smack comes heartily on his back, right on his throwing shoulder where the soreness is radiating like a motherfucker, and he has to grit his teeth to not curse and startle Easton.

”Buddy, how much did this ride cost ya?” His Uncle Chuck, his mom’s brother asks obnoxiously, “Saw these things were going for a hundred and some change?”

Harry takes a deep breath, his patience was wearing thin, and he had barely made it out of the car, “I don’t remember how much it cost.”

“That’s what being rich gets you, huh? Twenty-one with a fat bank account and no responsibilities. I would have loved to have a life like yours,” Chuck chortles as he leans up against said expensive SUV, beer in his hand.

“I have plenty of fuckin’ responsibilities,” Harry bites back, scolding himself for cursing in from of Easton, even if he was too young to understand, he tried not to make it a habit.

“Sure you do, bud,” His uncle laughs, clearly not catching onto Harry’s mood, “Last thing I’d want is a baby with everything that you have going on. Growing up too fast.”

“Luckily, it’s not your life,” Harry brushes him off, picking up Easton’s diaper bag on his free shoulder and hikes him up, “We’ll be in soon. Give us a minute.”

His uncle shrugs before staggering off, a drunken sway in his step as he stumbles back towards the house.

Harry buries his nose in Easton’s downy, fresh smelling wispy curls to steady his breathing, he feels a bit emotional as he talks to his son.

“M’sorry, East. Daddy doesn’t feel good right now,” Harry swallows hard, squeezing his eyes shut, “I just have to pull it together. God, I love you. My baby.”

Harry gives himself another minute of grounding before taking a deep exhale and shutting the door, walking towards the house.

Everyone was on the back patio, sipping on drinks, and cheering when they saw him.

Dread settles heavy in Harry’s stomach as his family members as they start asking him about his games, wanting to recap every play he’s made, his sponsorships and his much he’s getting paid.

Harry’s trying to keep up the conversation but all he can think about is how much he didn’t want to be there, and he should have just taken Easton to the park or something more low-key.

When he bumps into his mom in the kitchen, Anne is prepping a salad and smiles back at her son - unaware of his mood.

“Isn’t this fun, hun?” Anne asks happily, sprinkling in some spices as she hums.

“Why couldn’t it have just been us? I have to be around people all the time and I thought it was just going to be you. Now I have to entertain all of them,” Harry’s tone definitely takes her aback as she puts down the tongs she was using.

“Usually you love when everyone’s here, I don’t understand,” Anne’s smile drops, wiping her hands on the dishrag.

“Does anybody ever consider that I don’t love talking about baseball every second of the day or how much money is in my bank account?” Harry’s tone is venomous and resentful, unfairly harsh on his mom when she hadn’t tried to upset him.

“Harr-“ Anne begins to apologize, albeit, a bit confused.

“Easton’s almost ready for a nap,” He cuts her off as he checks his watch, it didn’t really matter what time it was, he was done.

“My bedroom-“

“No, I’m going home,” Harry shakes his head, turning on his heel. He has the decency to look back and say, “Sorry, mom. I just can’t be here.”

Easton was currently being held by his Aunt Jane, he was starting to fuss because he had a bottle not too long ago and he was starting to get cranky.

“Alright, we’re going to head out. East needs his nap,” Harry announces, hiking on the diaper bag, and starting to walk over.

“Oh, we barely see him! Just a few more minutes with this little one. You can hold off his nap for a little!” His Aunt Jane jokingly holds him tighter for a minute and nothing right now is funny to Harry.

Harry doesn’t get loud but his voice gets steely as he reaches down and scoops Easton up from her lap, “Don’t tell me how to take care of my baby, understood?”

His poor aunt is taken aback, just like his mom, and nods.

Harry storms out without another glance back, ignoring the whispers about how odd he was acting and rude.

When he straps Easton in, the dark bubble in belly subsides for a moment- like sun breaking through storm clouds.

“Daaa,” Easton coos, happy but tired, tucking his binky back between his lips.

“Good job, baby,” Harry sniffles, blinking up towards the sky to keep the tears away, “Fuck, get it together.”

Harry had to pepper at least ten kisses on Easton’s warm, sleepy face before he’s able to close the door and get in the driver’s seat.

Harry presses on the console touch screen, calling YN, and he frowns when it goes straight to voicemail which was very unlike her.

He tries again.

Voicemail.

He pulls out his phone, trying to check her location, and it hasn’t updated in the past hour - it was just unusual for her phone to die, always on standby but he tries not to worry.

YN was probably still very pissed off at him, if he was to bet, she put her phone on ‘do not disturb’ so that she could take a well deserved nap and not be bothered.

Harry squeezes the steering wheel, reminding himself once again, “Pull yourself together.”

But in the back of his mind, an anxious thought pops in, well multiple.

What is YN is leaving you?

What if she’s sick of not having you around as much as other wives have their husbands?

First time you see her in a week and you treat her like shit. You really think she’ll stay?

Harry has never once thought like that, even when they’ve gotten in serious fights but god damn, he couldn’t stop his mind from going a million miles a minute, and it felt like shit.

Nothing was wrong.

Everything felt like it’s crumbling.

[officialaemondtargaryen]

Never Gonna Be Alone [part 1]

Summary: A collection of small moments that lead to falling in love with your roommate. This is a Modern Day!AU.

Pairing: Aegon Targaryen x Reader

Word Count: ~1.5k

Author's Note: I've been writing two horribly depressing stories simultaneously for a while now and I needed a break from the angst. I hope that you all enjoy this.

Warnings for the entire series: language, drug & alcohol use, pining, fluff, possible angst, and possible sexual content. Plus, me attempting to be a comedian.

Masterlist | Playlist

She said, "he's kind of messy in every aspect of his life, but he's fun to be around!" Then, she very positively followed that up with, "I think you two would really get along!"

You met Helaena in college, and to be honest, you really didn't know her that well. She was a friend of a friend who had been in a few of the same classes as you, went to the same bars, and had a similar taste in art and music. She'd like every selfie, or ask to borrow a book you posted about, but you had never really hung out alone together.

So when your phone started ringing on a Friday night, after you were already three margaritas deep and swimming in queso dip at your cousin's birthday party, and it was Helaena Targaryen's name flashing across the screen, you were admittedly concerned; though, you'd always known her to be a pretty sincere person, so you took her word for it when she said that you should let her older brother move into the empty, second bedroom of your apartment. It might have been the tequila, or the fact that you were just that desperate, but you immediately agreed to her proposition without question.

You had been trying to rent the room out for months when it became impossible to afford the luxury of living alone, but every person that was interested happened to fall through for one reason or another. You had even offered a discounted rate (as the bedroom was smaller than yours and there was only one bathroom and it was a Jack-and-Jill), but you still couldn't find a good fit.

Enter Aegon Targaryen.

Suddenly, a guy whom you could only describe as 'that has to be Helaena's brother', was knocking on your door a week later. There was beat up Wrangler sitting on the curb behind him filled to the roof with cardboard boxes, and a tiny U-Haul hitched to the bumper with what little bit of furniture he had. He looked at you, blinked a few times and said, "I'm Aegon." You introduced yourself and he nodded; there were no pleasantries, no hand shakes or smiles. He just walked into your apartment, looked around, and then started moving his things in.

It was mid-July, so obviously there were better things you could be doing with your time than helping a complete stranger move his things into your home during a drought and a heat wave. Yet, you slid on your sandals and got to work after you had started to feel bad that you were sitting pretty in the air conditioning while your new roommate struggled alone in the humidity.

It didn't take long until the only thing left was his mattress. You weren't even sure how he got that monstrosity stuffed into the tiny trailer in the first place. It was ridiculously bulky and much heavier than it needed to be, but he swore that it was the most comfortable mattress you'd ever lay on in your life- a fact that you would just have to take his word for. You struggled, a lot, but put on a brave face as Aegon did most of the heavy lifting in the back and you navigated up front.

As you were coming up the porch steps with your sunglasses sliding off of your face as you dripped with sweat, and your arms tired from hours of heavy lifting (saving the heaviest for last, which was a terrible idea), you ended up missing the stoop completely and landing on your ankle awkwardly. You played it off until you had gotten the mattress onto his bed frame, and then silently cried about it in your now shared bathroom; quietly cursing the economy for forcing this situation upon you. Later that night as you were sitting on the couch, with your swollen ankle elevated on a couple of throw pillows, your new roommate tosses a bag of frozen peas in your lap and continues into his room with a bowl of cereal for dinner.

"Thanks," you called after him but only heard the sound of his bedroom door closing in reply.

Over the next few weeks you observed quite a bit about Aegon Targaryen. You knew which spoon was his favorite, how he preferred his tea, that he washed his hair with tea tree shampoo, and enjoyed mint chocolate chip ice cream. He cut the crust off of his sandwiches when he ate them at home, but when he packed his lunch he left them on. He could drink an entire box of wine by himself, but he typically stopped after two glasses, and he always asked if you wanted him to pour you one. He talked to his siblings a lot, but never his parents, and he really enjoyed watching dog videos on his phone while sitting on the couch as you tried to watch your show.

And when he laughed, he belly laughed, and you couldn't help but smile softly to yourself when he did.

Despite how taciturn he may have been, he was still good company, even if you were just sitting on opposite ends of the sofa doing your own thing. He always thanked you when you would leave leftovers in the fridge with a sticky note that had his name on it, and you started making sure that you made enough for two. When he came home late on the weekends, he tried his absolute hardest to do so quietly, but with those hardwood floors, it was almost impossible. He'd wake you up every single time, but you would never say anything. It was hardly an inconvenience after the many nights you'd fall asleep to the sound of him softly strumming his guitar in the next room.

And yet, you just couldn't help but wait for the other shoe to drop. Because it had to, right? Surely this would be a nightmare; God finally sending a punishment for your sins and giving him the face of a literal angel for shits and giggles. You weren't entirely convinced he wasn't Karma-In-Disguise, as the only other option was just too good to be true. It just couldn’t be that you agreed to live with someone you had previously never met simply because someone that you really didn’t know said you should and by some miracle it actually worked out? 

Absolutely not.

You were not that lucky. 

One morning you woke to find Aegon in the kitchen, standing at the counter, making himself a cup of tea. He had already brewed a pot of coffee for you and there was a box of assorted pastries sitting on the table, one of which he was holding between his teeth as he poured a splash of milk into his cup. He turned to you, leaning against the counter and took a bite out of his scone.

"What's this?" You quirked an eyebrow as you studied the scene.

"A 'thank you', I s'pose," he shrugged, voice deep with residual exhaustion. He scratched at the short stubble on his chin, almost nervously, "It's been like a month since I moved in ‘ere, and, to be honest, I wasn't really expectin’ you to let me stay longer than a week."

You laughed softly and took a few steps deeper into the kitchen, taking note of how comfortable the space was with his presence in it. You couldn't ignore the way your pulse quickened at the sight of him in this light; the way the soft, morning sun bounced off of his blonde hair like a halo. He stayed right where he was as you moved around him; his tired, blue eyes following as you grabbed your favorite mug and a spoon from the drawer.

"To be honest, I wasn't expecting you to want to stay," you mentioned as you stood next to him and added two scoops of sugar to your cup. Your eyes flickered up to meet his stare, which was so blue you might as well have been looking up at the sky itself. "We're basically strangers."

"I wouldn't say that," he shrugged, lips curling into a small smirk, and you had to stop looking at him before you spilled coffee all over yourself.

"Oh? What are we then?" You asked, feeling your cheeks warming slightly as you averted your gaze.

"Not strangers," you could hear the smirk in his tone; his gaze lingering for a moment longer before he took another bite of his pastry and pushed himself off the counter. "Besides," he added, taking a few steps towards the living room before glancing back at you. "A stranger wouldn't know your favorite bakery."

You laughed softly through your nose, realizing that your new roommate had just confessed to eavesdropping on your late-night FaceTime calls with your best friend. Not that he really had a choice—the walls were paper-thin, after all. Just two days ago, you’d mentioned how badly you were craving a chocolate croissant, but how they always seemed to sell out before you could get one. Now, as you flipped open the top of the cardboard box, your stomach sank. A sudden jolt of realization shot through you, followed by a nauseating wave of panic. 

There they were. 

Four chocolate croissants, neatly packed and staring back at you.

“Fuck.”

[moodymisty]

I’ve wanted to ask this for a while and I’m glad I can finally ask. It not exactly a request, but I’m sure it still counts as a head canon ask

So in to regards to the original 20 legions, how would you rank having a harem of space marines from that legion

It’s no contest that Salamanders are pretty high on the list, and it’s safe to say that the Iron Hands are at the bottom of the list, just to give an example

I was just curious to know your opinion on where you would ranks the other legions and where they would fall on a hypothetical list

Author's note: I love this XD this ask was so much fun to think about let me have my astartes harem

Warnings: You have multiple space marine husbands i don't know what that qualifies as i just figured it would be a worthwhile warning

Dark Angels: How'd you even get a group of them together without killing eachother? Impressive.

Ultramarines: A good harem of space marines to have. Organized too, there may or may not be a spreadsheet of wife time that exists but they firmly deny it.

Alpha Legion: Sneaky harem, each of them likes to sneak into your room and try and have time with you alone, only to get busted by the others also doing the same thing.

Iron Warriors: Don't.

Luna Wolves/Sons of Horus: Not a bad choice, though if there's going to be a harem happening in his legion, it's probably going to be Horus, his wife, and his Mournival just being real here. He's not allowing shit like that to happen without his presence.

World Eaters: Don't. Don't put multiple of these guys in the same room it isn't going to end well. They're like bettas.

Word Bearers: They really go hard on the worshipping thing. You are their princess and it's cute at first, but they get very overbearing. At least they don't fight with eachother much.

Blood Angels: They are some of the best, the only major downside is all of them have an appetite, so there's probably not going to be many times where you aren't somewhat woozy.

Iron Hands: Terrible, but mostly because their aloof and stoic nature isn't as cute as Imperial fists.

Emperor's Children: They are all super dedicated and love showering you in gifts. Don't think too hard about where they came from.

Imperial Fists: You have the most emotionally constipated men ever. They are incredibly protective and you have never felt safer, but they also have the emotive potential of a piece of sheet metal.

Space Wolves: The most chaotic bunch of husbands ever. They are always fighting with eachother, mostly joking but it sometimes gets serious, and most of the time it isn't even about you. Are terrible at sharing, and someones lost a finger because of a brawl over wife rights.

Death Guard: Your stinky, stinky husbands are terrible. They really like bringing you flowers though.

Thousand Sons: They all argue with each other nonstop which is annoying, but every now and again they'll work together and you'll have the best, warp fuckery filled night of your life.

Salamanders: As you would've expected, you've won the lottery. You have some of the best astartes in the galaxy who are quite happy to have you as well. They all know how to share, and don't try and kill eachother which given previous legions is a definite plus.

Raven Guard: They're pretty calm by the standards of others on this list, so not the worst. It can get a bit annoying to manage each of their depressive pouting fits though.

Night Lords: DON'T? As fun as it might seem to be a barracks bunny for a group of chunky Night Lords, this is a terrible idea. There's a non 0% chance you'll end up as a snack, and not the fun kind.

White Scars: Probably the best harem to be honest, given they probably have actual harems on Chogoris so the whole thing is familiar. Each are equally proud of their wife and it's really cute.