#but with a happy ending

[kirinthepotato]

I do believe that when Regulus and James got married, Regulus would make sure to never make mistakes, even the smallest ones, because he was afraid that James would realize that he had made a mistake marrying Regulus. And Regulus doesn't want them to end up like his parents.

And James knew about this, so he spent one year of their marriage life encouraging Regulus to make mistakes and making him understand that no mistakes would make him regret marrying Regulus, because that man is the air that he breathes.

His one true love.

#jegulus #james x regulus #regulus black #james potter #harry potter #marauders #dead gay wizards #we love angst #but with a happy ending #married jegulus #starchaser

[miryum]

Always in All Ways (Mattheo Riddle x Reader) Great Gatsby AU

Warnings: angst!!!! (but a happy ending) Reader wears a dress (once) cause it’s the 20s. Talk of kids and a future together. For the sake of incest, we’re gonna ignore the fact that Enzo and Mattheo are half brothers… And if you squint, there could be a sign of domestic abuse (but it is so little there that I'm not sure if you can call it that). Reader is married (not to Mattheo at first) and it's not technically cheating.... it's hard to explain. As always, swearing. Not entirely proof-read, but will get it done soon

Lorenzo Berkshire had moved into a gated, two story house, surrounded by a thick forest. The neighbourhood he had moved into was affectionately called Diadem East. 

Diadem East was surrounded by a large bay, which, in turn, separated it from Diadem West. Diadem East and Diadem West were similar in the fact that they were obscenely rich. Even though both had enough wealth to buy the island of New York, Diadem West looked down on Diadem East because of generational wealth. Diadem West had come from old money - long lines of families that treated life like a simple game of chess and they could move others like pawns. Diadem East were those who only recently came into money and spent it freely and without care.

Lorenzo had moved to Diadem East in hopes of getting away from his overbearing parents, and it helped that his cousin lived right across the bay in Diadem West. 

Y/n Pucey was a recent newlywed to Adrian Pucey. Lorenzo hadn’t been able to make it to the wedding, but he wasn’t sure if he wanted to see his baby cousin married to a man fifteen years older than her. Y/n had always been Lorenzo’s favourite cousin; she was a bubbling, carefree girl, probably due to the fact that from birth, she had no restrictions with her father’s money. Now that she was married to the pretentious Pucey family, Lorenzo doubted she was familiar with the word ‘no’. 

What Lorenzo did doubt, however, was Y/n’s happiness. He remembered a time, back when she was nineteen, that he had visited her over summer break. She told him tales of a man that had captured her heart. Lorenzo remembered how Y/n’s eyes gleamed and her cheeks burned with her extensive smiling. He remembered laughing with Y/n in the sunroom, saying, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so happy.”

“I’m in love, Enzo,” she had replied simply. 

Needless to say, Lorenzo couldn’t wait to see his cousin again. He also couldn’t wait to return to a normal sleep schedule, given that his new neighbour wouldn’t stop having parties every single night that blasted light and music into Lorenzo’s bedroom window. It wasn’t until Thursday at four pm when a butler knocked on Lorenzo’s back door, holding a silver plate with a letter positioned on it. “Can I help you?” Enzo asked slowly, leaning on the door frame.

“Mister Riddle requests your presence on Friday night for a party he is throwing,” the butler said. 

“Mister… Riddle?” Enzo reiterated. “I’m sorry, who?”

“Your neighbour, Mister Mattheo Riddle,” the butler explained. “He wanted to welcome you into the neighbourhood.”

“Right,” Enzo trailed off. “I’ll be there.”

“Mister Riddle looks forward to making your acquaintance.”

****

The next day, Enzo drove up to Diadem West, the hilltop Pucey Manor looming over everything. As soon as Enzo finished driving up the winding gravel road, the front door swung open dramatically. Y/n stood there, arms flung wide. “Darling Enzo!” she squealed. “Oh, how I’ve missed you!” 

“My sweet cousin!” Enzo called back, bounding up the steps. He whirled Y/n up in his arms, swinging her back and forth, much to her delight. Her sundress flared around them in a swirling dance. “How have you been?”

“Lively,” Y/n answered simply. “How are those back home? You must tell me everything.”

Enzo flung his head back and said dramatically, “they miss you dearly, loving cousin. When I passed through town, everyone wept when they heard I was to see you. Jealous men came running down from their houses and begged me to take them with you. Mothers sobbed and cried out how they wished their daughters would turn out like you. Children dashed through the streets, racing after my carriage with joy.”

“They did?” Y/n beamed, gripping onto Enzo’s arms. “I do miss them, you know. Perhaps I should visit next summer.”

“They would all love to see you,” Enzo stated plainly. “Yet I have a question for you. Do you know of-”

“Lorenzo Berkshire,” a voice boomed from the front door. “What’s a man like you doing in these parts?”

Enzo stared up at Adrian Pucey, the esteemed husband of Y/n. “Adrian,” Enzo peeled himself away from Y/n and sauntered up the steps. “It’s nice to see you again.” He held out his hand for the man to shake.

“Get in here, good pal.” Adrian clapped Enzo’s hand and pulled him into a rough hug. Enzo let out a huff of air as he collided with Adrian’s chest. “Wonderful to see you as well. Tell me, how’s the stock business going?” Adrian placed a nonnegotiable hand on Enzo’s shoulder and led him inside the Pucey mansion. Y/n let out a noise of surprise and hurried in after them, determined not to be left behind. 

“Good, good.” Enzo made senseless conversation with Adrian as he tried to take in the curated house he was in. All the doors and windows were open, letting in a soft breeze and the stinging smell of the bay water. The curtains fluttered around Y/n as she walked, her eyes cautiously on her cousin and husband. No matter how she acted, Lorenzo knew of the whip sharp mind that Y/n had.

“And you know where he’s living, Adrian?” Y/n cut in, moving to recline gracefully on the settee. “In Diadem East!” 

Adrian’s brows rose and he turned to Enzo as the men sat on the couch. “Why not buy a house here? Hell, you’re welcome to stay in our guest room. Anything for a relative.”

“No, please.” Enzo held a hand up. “I’m perfectly fine on my own and I don’t want to intrude. It’s a nice, cosy house looking over the bay. In fact, if I look towards the right, I can see the end of your pier.”

“Really?” Y/n lit up, head turning towards Enzo. “How sweet. It’s almost as if we’re neighbours.”

“Speaking of neighbours,” Enzo took this opportunity to ask, “my own seems to be very eccentric.”

Adrian chuckled and poured himself some whiskey. “How so? Do you want any?” He gestured to the whiskey.

“No, but thank you.” Enzo adjusted in his seat and crossed his legs. “My neighbour throws these obscene parties almost every single night. I’m convinced that if it weren’t for the trees, I wouldn’t be able to get any sleep.” Y/n stretched out her legs and leaned her head back until it was resting on the arm of the chair. “But the oddest thing happened - he invited me to one tonight.”

“Really?” Adrian sipped his drink. “And who is this poseur?”

“A Mister Riddle.”

Y/n’s lips parted and, almost in slow motion, her eyes flickered to Lorenzo before going back to staring out the window to the gleaming blue water outside. “Riddle?” she murmured. Adrian glanced at her and Enzo’s brows furrowed. “I mean, there must be a thousand Riddles… why, in fact, just last month, I was introduced to a Ryder. Which is like Riddle, I guess.”

“Y/n, are you alright?” Enzo asked softly.

“Yes, are you well?” Adrian added on.

“I’m sure I’m fine,” Y/n said. “Perhaps just lightheaded. I’m going to go lay down now.” Her hand flit to her collarbone where a small chain was tucked under her dress.

“Okay.” Enzo stared after her, admittedly worried about his cousin, before standing and adjusting his suit. “Well, I'm afraid I have to go. Mustn’t be late to this fellow’s party.”

“Of course.” Adrian stood as well, in common courtesy, knowing that the two men had nothing in common or nothing to do with each other without Y/n as the mediator. “Riddle…” the man muttered. “I could’ve sworn I heard that name somewhere.”

“It’s a common name, you know.” Enzo chuckled as he swiped out the door. 

“Yes, I’m sure.” Adrian closed the door behind Enzo almost as an afterthought.

****

“What do you want, my darling? Anything you wish and I will make it happen.”

“I’m happy with just you, Matty.”

“That’s not a good enough answer, and you know it. Now, I’m going to ask again: what do you want?”

“… I… I want a big house. Overlooking the water so our kids can play in the water.”

“Our kids, hm?”

“Oh, yes, Matty. Our kids.”

“Alright. And what else?”

“Hmm… and a big ballroom that we can dance in. And all the paintings will be our favourites. And big parties for every occasion. Perhaps a pool. Or a sunroom. And the largest bedroom ever.”

“Is that all?”

“As long as I have you, Matty, that’s all I ask.”

****

While everyone else arrived to Riddle’s party in new and shining cars, Enzo simply walked. People of all backgrounds were streaming in the doors and Enzo was pushed into the unrelenting mob of partygoers. Enzo shoved his way to the first butler he saw and presented his invitation. “Uh, yes. I have this invitation here…” 

The butler glanced down at the letter and said stoically, “you needn’t one.”

“Pardon?” Enzo had never been to a party where he didn’t need to be invited. 

“The guests come and go as they please - per Mister Riddle’s orders.”

“Alright,” Enzo pursed his lips together and nodded awkwardly. “Thank you. Do you know where I could find Mister Riddle?”

“No, sir,” the butler replied. “He likes to socialise with his attendees and be in the throng of things. He likes to make sure that everyone is comfortable and having a good time.”

Enzo hummed and nodded in thanks before allowing himself to be swept up in the current. He was carried further into the opulent mansion and Lorenzo needed to remind himself to close his mouth at the palatial nature of it all. 

Practically every surface was plated with gold or made of marble. The ballroom opened up to a balcony that overlooked a large pool which was currently populated with dozens of people. On the other side of the ballroom, a large sunroom was occupied by a throng of people, cigarette smoke wisping up through the open roof. The stars were obscured by not only the smoke, but by the fact that every light in the mansion was turned on. Marble stairs led down to another open room which held a stage and a band whose music filtered up throughout the rooms. Congressmen, celebrities, and random people off the street were packed into the house, booze and drugs were passed around and waiters tried to filter through the crowd to hand out refreshments and food.

As he passed, Enzo heard tidbits of conversations about their host. “Did you know he was a bootlegger?”

“No, no, I heard he fought in the last war.”

“Well, whatever it is, it’s all terribly romantic.”

“Well, I thought that he was chasing a girl-”

Enzo managed to fight his way to the balcony and snag a glass of champagne on his way. He sighed in relief at finding a bubble of air to himself. A man dressed in a finely pressed suit jostled into him and quickly apologised. “Terribly sorry, old friend,” the man said. “I didn’t see you there. It’s a rowdy party tonight, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” Enzo replied loudly. “Is it usually like this?”

“Unfortunately,” the man grinned. “Although few frequent. I always find that many people come once and then never return.”

“You seem like you know an awful lot about Mister Riddle’s parties. Do you come here often?”

“Yes,” the man tsked. “As hard as I try, I can’t pull myself away from this old mansion. Something always draws me back. Did you know that Mattheo Riddle built this house from scratch?”

“I did not.”

“Yes,” the man laughed, his lips curing up. “Of course, he didn’t build the actual thing, but he bought the land and drew up the blueprints years ago. Six, to be exact.”

“Why is that?”

“No one knows for sure. There’s a lot of rumours circulating around Riddle.”

Enzo shouted over the music, “I was actually invited by Mister Riddle himself. But his butler seemed surprised by that.”

“Yes, it is very rare that one is personally invited to these gatherings.”

“Do you know where I could find him? Mister Riddle, I mean.” Enzo took a sip of his champagne.

The man laughed again and raised his own champagne glass. A smirk coiled up on his face and he said simply, “why, you’re talking to him, old friend. I am Mattheo Riddle.”

The party noise faded in Enzo’s ears. “Oh. I’m so sorry.” His hand shot out for Riddle to shake. “I didn’t mean to be rude. Pardon me, Mister Riddle.”

Mattheo Riddle shook Enzo’s hand, still grinning. His eyes held a mix of anticipation and happiness. Those who were close to Mattheo Riddle - which, really, was no one - had never seen such joy on Mattheo’s face. “Oh, call me Riddle. Or better yet, Mattheo. I feel as if I already know you, old friend. And, seeing as we’re neighbours, I hope to get to know you even better. How would you like to join me in my study?”

Enzo raised a brow and cliched his champagne fluke. “May I ask what for?”

“Oh, well, to tell you my life story, after all.” Mattheo clapped a hand on Enzo’s shoulder, much like Adrian had hours earlier. But unlike Adrian, Enzo found himself agreeing to go along with this man he only met today. 

Mattheo led Enzo down the hallway and nodded to a butler who was standing guard over an oak door. The butler opened the door up to Mattheo’s study, which was more of a library. The library was a much different aesthetic than the rest of the house. While the mansion next to Enzo’s little cottage was energetic and extravagant, Mattheo’s library was dark and cosy. Instead of gold and marble, it was made of oak and the flickering flames of candles.

“An impressive collection,” Enzo commented, glancing around the room at the rows of books.

“Why, thank you,” Mattheo replied. “It overlooks the bay, you see?” He pointed towards the window that, true to his word, was directly facing the large water. 

Enzo peered out the window and huffed a laugh when he saw Y/n’s house staring back at him. “That’s my cousin's house,” Enzo glanced back at Mattheo to see his gaze locked on the Pucey mansion. 

“I know,” Mattheo said quietly. 

“You know?” Lorenzo repeated questioningly. 

“Yeah,” Mattheo nodded. “You’ve heard rumours of me.” It wasn’t a question. Before Enzo could answer, Matthei continued, “but I can assure you, only one of those is true, old friend. I am… a helpless romantic.” Mattheo chuckled lowly, a sad layer in his eyes. Instead of sitting behind his large desk, Mattheo opted to lounge on a couch and Enzo sat in a loveseat next to him. 

“What do you mean by that?” 

“About… eight years ago I met this girl. God, she was absolutely perfect.” Mattheo gazed out at Diadem West. “I have been bereft of her for so many years… And I finally hope to make it up to her. I’ve become the man that will be good enough for her archaic parents.”

“Where did you meet her?” Enzo asked quietly.

“I was visiting her hometown one day, eight years ago. And I just…” Mattheo took a moment to wet his chapped lips. “She had all other eyes on her. She was simply walking down the street, yet she drew everyone to her. And when I was blessed enough to hold her in my arms… to kiss her lips is better than heaven.”

“May I guess her name?” Enzo’s smile grew larger. “Is this lovely, captivating woman my cousin, Y/n Pucey?”

“How did you know?” Mattheo’s voice was airy and wistful.

“Many men have tripped over their feet just to take a glance at my cousin. She is not only beautiful, holding the Berkshire genes, but witty, magnetic, and gentle.” Enzo finished his champagne and lit a cigar that Mattheo had offered him. “And, well, she might have mentioned you once or twice. She was in love with you when she was nineteen. Perhaps she still is.” Mattheo’s eyes snapped to Enzo. “Then she was married to Adrian Pucey. Honestly, I’m a little surprised that you’re living right across from her.”

“Yes, I’m aware of all that,” Mattheo stated. “But nothing has been an accident, Mister Berkshire. There’s a reason why I host parties every weekend, why I keep the lights on every night, why my home is directly across from hers, and why you, her cousin, is renting next to me.”

Enzo scrutinised this stranger across from him. “You’re obsessed with my cousin,” he stated, somewhat disgustedly. 

“No,” Mattheo whispered. “I’m in love with your cousin. I have always been in love with her - in all ways. And she is me. Mention my name around her and you’ll see.”

“I have,” Enzo admitted. “She looked as if she’d seen a ghost. But she also looked guilty, Riddle. She’s married. She has a life. She wants children.” Mattheo’s jaw jumped as Enzo continued, “you can’t rip her away from that. It’s been years, Riddle. She hasn’t seen you for years.”

“I know…” Mattheo trailed off. “But just to see her again would fulfil any wish of mine. I have a vow I need to make due on. I- uh, I was wondering if you could invite her over for tea. And I could drop by. Just one day.” Mattheo’s eyes felt dry and he quickly blinked. 

Enzo sighed deeply and after a long moment, said, “okay. Tuesday? At three?”

A weight lifted off of Mattheo’s shoulders. He now had all the time in the world. In his eyes, everything was finally falling into place. Mattheo would finally get to be happy again. “That sounds absolutely perfect.”

****

Tuesday was outrageously cloudy. Lorenzo could hardly see the sun as he drove back to his house. As he pulled into his driveway, he came to see an ostentatious green Rolls-Royce convertible that was blocking his drive. Enzo stared defeatedly at the car for a long moment, knowing exactly whose it was. 

Mattheo Riddle leaned on the hood and proceeded to wave at Enzo as if the man wasn’t hours too early to tea. 

“You have a watch, don’t you?” Enzo called out, getting out of his car. 

“I couldn’t wait,” Mattheo admitted. “I had nothing else to do today - well, that’s not true. I in fact cancelled some meetings that were set to take place today, but no worries.”

“You cancelled - you know what? Nevermind. Look, Riddle, I sure hope you know what you’re doing. Y/n… she’s changed from when you met her.” Enzo couldn’t look at his neighbour as he unlocked his door. Mattheo followed in after him, glancing around courteously, as if the real reason he was here wasn’t sending waves of nerves through his stomach. Enzo glanced back at Mattheo and moved to the kitchen to make some tea. Mattheo followed after him, his gait slow. “She used to believe that she could live any way she wanted,” Enzo continued. “But then she met Adrian.”

“Hm.” Mattheo made a low noise in his throat, fingers reaching out to play with the teacups that hung from a shelf. 

“She’s not… unhappy with Adrian,” Enzo tried to explain. “But she’s putting her happiness aside for the grandeur of life.” 

“I could give her that grandeur,” Mattheo muttered. 

“Do you know how people back home would treat her if they found out she got divorced from Adrian Pucey just to marry a man who is rumoured to be a bootlegger?” Enzo asked, aghast. He roughly swallowed and said quietly, “I’m sorry. That was out of line.” 

“No, no,” Mattheo waved him off, still seemingly fascinated by Enzo’s teacups. “It’s perfectly in line. You make a valid point. Though I can assure you, I am not a bootlegger. Far from it.”

“Then what is your line of work?” 

“Never you mind. When is Y/n coming?” Mattheo turned to Enzo, changing the topic at an alarming speed. The teacups were long forgotten.

Enzo exhaled and dunked a teabag in the teapot. “She said she’ll be arriving around three. However, that means that she’ll either be arriving at two-fifteen on account of wanting to escape Adrian, or she’ll arrive at four-thirty because Adrian needs something from her.”

“Let’s hope it’s the former,” Mattheo growled.

As if on cue, the two men heard the rumbling of a car approaching. The air in the room stilled. Mattheo’s face dropped and he turned pale, staring at the door. They heard Y/n’s honey voice call out, “Lorenzo!” Enzo quickly came to his senses and rushed to open the door. Y/n was driving up, waving her hat enthusiastically in one hand. A smile split on Enzo’s face as he rushed over to help her out of her car. “I must say, I was wary when you asked me to visit without Adrian,” Y/n chatted as Enzo escorted her into the house. “I couldn’t possibly think of anything you would need from me.”

“Can’t I just ask you over for tea?” Enzo chuckled. “Does everything I do need malicious intent?”

“Based on your past, yes.”

Enzo rolled his eyes playfully. After he took Y/n’s coat and hat, his eyes darted around his house, but he couldn’t find one trace of Mattheo anywhere. “Why don’t you sit down and I’ll… I’ll grab the tea,” Enzo muttered. He moved to his kitchen, and seeing his back door ajar, he shoved it open. “Where are you going?!” he cried out to Mattheo who was currently halfway across the lawn.

Mattheo spun back to Enzo, fear deeply rooted in his expression. “I can’t,” he whispered after he jogged back to Enzo. “I can’t do it. You’re absolutely right. She... she has a life. And probably doesn’t even remember me. It would be cruel to subject her to such emotions. I don’t want to cause her any harm.”

Enzo shook his head. “I will not have invited my cousin to tea under false pretences,” he said slowly and firmly. “You owe this to her,” he added. 

A droplet of rain fell from a passing cloud and fell faster and faster until it splattered on Mattheo’s wrist. The water was absorbed by the cuff of Mattheo’s shift, but a small bit of the water rolled down onto his hand and drifted its way down to Mattheo’s ring finger. A thin gold band sat snug there. “Do you know what a pyrrhic victory means?” 

“Yes.” Enzo frowned inquisitively. “It’s victory that cost the victor more than it did the defeated. But what does that have to do with Y/n?”

“My love for Y/n has cost me everything,” Mattheo muttered. “But she is everything. I'm used to people hating me for my wealth and how reserved I am. What I'm used to isn't people's love. And now, my love is with Y/n and I'm not letting anyone ruin that or take it away from me.” More raindrops began falling from the sky until a gentle pitter-patter could be heard all around them.

“So why don’t you come in and tell her that?” Enzo asked, gesturing towards his door. 

Mattheo’s jaw jumped but he nodded, giving in. He shuffled through the door and into the living room where Y/n sat. Enzo grinned to himself and shut the door behind them before hearing Y/n gasp and the sound of a glass breaking. Enzo cursed to himself, knowing one of his precious teacups had now lost its life.

“M- Matty?” Y/n murmured, eyes wide. “Oh- oh, dear.” She stared down at the broken teacup on the carpet and bent down, hands shuddering. Mattheo crouched down as well, maintaining eye contact with Y/n the entire way. Y/n shook her head and focused on cleaning up her mess. Enzo noticed her whole body was trembling and he took a step forward as if to console her. Mattheo beat him to the punch. He grasped her forearms and helped her up, leaving the teacup behind. Y/n sniffed and repeated, “Matty?”

“Yeah, darling. It’s me,” Mattheo murmured, stepping closer to her. His hold on her arms softened and his cheek brushed against her forehead. 

Y/n exhaled shakily. “What are you doing here?” she whispered, tipping her head to lean into a more intimate position with Mattheo. Enzo slid out of the room, smirking faintly.

“I live next to Enzo,” Mattheo said, neither one bothering to look for Y/n’s cousin. 

Y/n chuckled humourlessly. “Tell me the real reason, Matty. I know you better than this.”

Mattheo smiled - the truest smile Enzo had ever seen on his neighbour’s face (not that Enzo was watching from the next room) - and leaned down to bump his nose against hers. “I could never hide anything from you. Not that I ever would, but I digress.” Mattheo reached down and gently lifted Y/n’s hand to his lips. He pressed featherlight kisses along her fingertips and confessed, “a year after you married Adrian, I built a house across the bay. The mansion whose windows are alight every single night with fireworks going off every weekend… that’s me, darling. Trying to get you to even glance over at me. Renting the neighbouring cabin to your cousin… that’s me. Every little detail, down to my car, is so I can see you again.”

“You did all that for me?” Y/n ran a soft thumb over Mattheo’s jawline, making the man shiver. 

“And I will do so much more,” Mattheo promised. “I am yours, my love. Always in all ways.”

****

Y/n sat curled in Mattheo’s lap. The pair was under a tree on a picnic blanket, far from the L/n Villa. “I’m sorry I couldn’t spend my birthday with you, Matty,” Y/n murmured to him. “I know you had a surprise for me.”

“It’s alright, darling,” Mattheo whispered back, dragging his fingers through Y/n’s hair. “I know nineteen is a monumental birthday for your family.”

“But now you have me all to yourself,” Y/n lightly laughed, turning to grin at her lover. “What was the surprise you had for me? You’ve been awfully suspicious these past few days, Matty.”

Mattheo hummed, looking to the sky and rhythmically tapping his fingers against you. “Well, I don’t know, my love,” he teased. “What could I possibly get the most perfect girl for her birthday?” After your protests, he continued, not before kissing your temple. “I got you my heart,” he whispered. Out from his pocket, he pulled a thin chain. Dangling teasingly from the chain was a golden ring. “So I can be with you always,” Mattheo explained quietly. 

Tears pricked at Y/n’s eyes as she gently took the necklace from him and thread the chain through her fingers. “You… you’re being serious right now?” Her focus was drawn to Mattheo’s own ring finger, where she noticed a new, immortal band lay proudly. “Are you…?”

“Only for you,” Mattheo reassured her. “Don’t worry. It’s my way of showing my devotion.” He twisted the necklace around her neck, clipping it there. 

“Only for me?”

“Always in all ways,” Mattheo vowed.

****

Y/n frequented outings with her friends much more often as of late. Adrian only sent Y/n away with a half-committed kiss on the cheek and eyes fixated on his golfing or his business contracts. Y/n would get in her car (or Enzo’s if he was feeling nice), and drive down to Mattheo’s mansion. Most days, there would be other cars there, waiting for Riddle’s house to open to party. They would be carrying booze and wearing all fashions of clothes, and when they would walk up to his door only to be turned away, they would pout and groan. Mattheo’s house wasn’t blazing his lights anymore, nor were there any fireworks crackling each weekend. His car was kept parked in his garage and his smile was constant. 

The first time Y/n had gone over to Mattheo’s mansion, so conveniently and coincidentally located across from hers, she had been in awe. “It’s exquisite!” she had exclaimed. She had run all over the house, marvelling at the floors and the ceilings, dragging Mattheo along behind her. Mattheo laughed loudly, his joy echoing off the walls. Of course, all of the art decorating his walls was accented to Y/n’s taste and the colour palette was exactly as Y/n had hoped for all those years ago. 

“Dance with me,” she beckoned Mattheo one day, already spinning on the deserted dance floor. Mattheo would lock the doors to his manor and keep out the partiers forever and always if it meant he could see Y/n on his dance floor, waiting for him. 

Mattheo stared at her, his eyes bright with love. He swept her up in his arms, pressing her close, and they danced to nonexistent music. Y/n rested her head on Mattheo’s chest and whispered, “this is nice.”

“This is very nice, indeed. I hope to do it more often.”

Y/n’s fingers gripped onto Mattheo’s shoulders. “Matty…” she whispered. “You know my feelings for you. But I- Adrian-”

“Please don’t speak his name,” Mattheo pleaded. “And I know about him. But I don’t care about him. Please tell me you don’t care about him either.”

“He is my husband, Mattheo.”

“That doesn’t mean you care about him.” Y/n took a breath and stepped slowly back from Mattheo. His mouth parted slowly and desperation filled his eyes. His hands reached out in anguish. “Please, my love. Don’t do this.”

“I will never love him as much as I love you,” Y/n clarified gently. “But I don’t hate him, either. Over the years, I have come to care for him. It’s a complicated feeling, Mattheo, I’m sure you understand.”

“Marry me,” Mattheo suddenly declared. “I promise, my dearest, I will give you all and more.”

“It’s not fair to Adrian,” Y/n protested, her hands dropped to her sides. “We don’t live in a life where one can just divorce their spouse to pursue another. You know of the rigidity and the silent rules that if we don’t follow, the exile we face.”

“Exile of what?” Mattheo cried, helplessness in his voice. “You can move in here. I can give you the life we dreamed of.”

“The life I dreamed of included my parents and my loved ones,” Y/n objected. “Not an isolated life with only one of the many I love.”

“Anyone you love can come visit you if they want,” Mattheo offered. “I won’t push anyone away. I just want you.”

“You know they won’t visit,” Y/n’s voice broke. “You know people will ridicule us. And I am so sorry, Matty, but I don’t know if I could live with that.” Mattheo didn’t speak for a long moment, staring at Y/n’s neck. “What’s wrong?” she eventually demanded. “Do I have something on my collar?”

“No,” Mattheo murmured softly. “It’s just… you kept it.” He pointed to Y/n’s neck and reached out to finger the chain around Y/n’s neck. The woman couldn’t help but shiver under his light touch. “You kept it,” he repeated. Carefully, as if afraid he might break her, Mattheo lifted the hidden necklace that was tucked under Y/n’s dress. “My ring.”

“I couldn’t bear to get rid of it,” Y/n’s breath hitched and she swallowed back tears. “I’ve never taken it off. Even- even on my wedding day.”

Beside himself, Mattheo chuckled, though it quickly turned to a gasp for breath. “So even when he made love to you, you always kept my ring around your neck?” Tears slipped down his cheeks and Y/n reached up to quickly wipe them away. 

“I don’t want you thinking about that,” Y/n muttered, shaking her head at the absurdness of it all. “Please… just be here with me.”

“I’m here,” Mattheo could hardly get a couple words out. He pulled her close to him and pressed a firm kiss on her forehead. “You still haven’t said no to my proposal.”

Y/n laughed loudly. “I didn’t think you were being serious.”

“With you, I am always serious,” Mattheo grinned, bending down to look her in the eye. “And that wasn’t an answer. Why are you avoiding the question, darling?”

Y/n sighed, a coy smile on her lips. “Would I simply leave Adrian? What of my things? Adrian would come looking for me, you know?”

“I would buy you whatever you’re missing a thousand times over.” Mattheo stared at Y/n, his eyes holding all the tenderness that a lover was supposed to have. “I would protect you and Adrian would never know where you are. He will never harm you, I promise.” 

Y/n tapped Mattheo’s chest thrice and hummed. Mattheo’s heart fluttered and his lips brushed against her temple. Silently, he begged all the gods he knew of that Y/n would agree to be with him. His lips moved wordlessly, pleading, before Y/n said, “I will call you tomorrow, Matty. I’m sure Adrian already knows of our endeavours, but give me one night to collect my thoughts. Can you give me that much?”

“Of course, my love. Whatever you need.” He kissed Y/n’s forehead again. “Always in all ways.”

“Always in all ways,” Y/n repeated.

****

“Where are you going?”

Y/n’s shoulders tensed and she slowly turned around to face Adrian. A packed bag was on her bed. “Enzo, the sweetling cousin he is, invited me to stay with him,” she said. “I thought it would be fun to spend a night in East Diadem. To see how others live.”

“You? In East Diadem?” Adrian chortled a laugh. “And why, pray tell, would you do that?” 

“Because I love my cousin,” Y/n reiterated firmly. “Are you forbidding me to see my family?”

Adrian’s head hung and he shook his head. “I may be rich, but I’m not stupid.” He hesitated before stating, “I know about Riddle.”

“My old friend?” Y/n asked smoothly. “Yes, he was a friend of Enzo’s. That’s how I met him, you know.” She cleared her throat and zipped up her bag. 

“You’re fucking him, aren’t you?” Adrian then suddenly shouted out, his hair flying out of place and his face turning red. “He’s fucking my wife, that bastard! Why, I should- I outta- you bitch!” He growled and whirled around, dragging a hand through his hair. 

“Adrian.” Y/n held up her hands, trying to soothe his emotions. It was the only way she learned how. “I haven’t been unfaithful to you, I promise. I made a vow on our wedding day and I have since upheld it.”

Adrian grunted and demanded, “so tell me you love me.”

Y/n swallowed. “I- I love you, Adrian. Just not in the way you want me to.”

Her husband let out a yell of frustration and slammed his hands down on the back of an armchair. Y/n flinched. After a tense moment, he hissed out, “go, then. Leave me.” His voice rose to a crescendo and he shouted out, “but know that I will never let you back into this life again! No one will ever let you step inside Diadem West without rumours and hatred trailing behind you.” He let his voice drop and as Y/n shuffled back, he raised his head and looked at her, pleadingly. “I want to make you stay,” Adrian whispered. “I want to tell you all the ways I love you. But… But I think we both know I can’t.” He took a step towards her and held a hand out as if he wanted to cup her face in his palm. “You are so beautiful, Y/n,” he muttered. “But he makes you feel alive. You- you deserve that.”

“So do you, Adrian,” Y/n choked out. 

“I know,” he nodded once, conceding. “I know.”

****

It took four weeks for Y/n to officially move into the house across the bay. Immediately, she had sought out her cousin and stayed with him for some time. She spent many of those days sitting out on the lawn, staring out to the bay and her old house. Her hair would whip across her face and sometimes, Mattheo would come and sit a couple feet away from her, not saying a word. Mattheo knew she was experiencing the eroding feeling of guilt. He didn’t dare disturb her thoughts if, eventually, it would lead to him. What’s a couple more weeks when he had been waiting years?

Then, one day, Y/n turned towards Mattheo and said, “you promised to love me always and in all ways.” 

Mattheo’s head whipped toward her. The shame in his eyes was deep. “Yes,” he uttered.

“I think I’m ready to take you up on your offer.” 

Mattheo broke into a smile.

A year later, the pair was married. The band that had been around Y/n’s neck was now around her finger. Y/n’s parents refused to attend and she had spent the night crying in Mattheo’s arms. Enzo had taken the place of her father and walked her down the aisle. The wedding was sparse and while Mattheo’s aunt had come to offer her congratulations, as had one of Y/n’s old friends, the couple knew that their life would be a lonely one until they either made new friends or Y/n’s old friends in Diadem West came around. But they were happy. 

Grand parties weren’t a frequent occurrence, though every month or so, Mattheo threw a celebration for an unimportant holiday, simply to show Y/n off. He finally had the pleasure to kiss her in a room full of people and not be ridiculed. However, parties weren’t needed. As long as Mattheo woke up with Y/n in his arms, he would call it the most wonderful day ever. 

And when years had passed and their children would move out to begin their own endeavours, the house would lay empty. After decades had gone by and the mansion was simply a statement of extravagant wealth and the jubilance of society, people would wander in the house, marvelling at the gold and marble. Whispers would echo the hallways of the great love story that transpired within its walls. A large, dusty old portrait of the couple still hung above the fireplace, their eyes holding as much love as there was water in the bay.

#mattheo riddle #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo riddle x you #harry potter fanfic #harry potter #adrian pucey #lorenzo berkshire #enzo berkshire #x reader #great gatsby #great gatsby au #but with a happy ending #angst #flashbacks #loooveeeee #I love this and worked so hard on it #6.4k

[tarttkentjones]

does anyone have any royjamiekeeley fics that are just so good with lots of pining and slow burn and enemies to friends to lovers or just something that will absolutely blow my mind

#i need pain and i need it now #but with a happy ending #ted lasso #jamie tartt #roy kent #roy x jamie #royjamie #keeley jones #roy x keeley x jamie #afc richmond

[dreamwatch]

STWG Daily Prompt: waking up

word count: 2090 | rated: Teen | Tags: Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson, Angst, Referenced Minor Character Death (SPOILER - he's major to me!), Time Skips | cw: mention of funerals, ill health, sick spouse | notes: there's a happy/hopeful ending.

***

“Eddie, hey, wake up, man.”

There’s a sharp tapping on his shoulder, but he’s warm and comfortable and not in pain (why would he be in pain?) and it’s too much.

“Eddie!”

He opens his eyes and Steve Harrington is standing in front of him. He lets his eyes drift. He’s in a bedroom, small and neat. It’s clean and bright, sunlight streaming in through the open window. This isn’t his bedroom.

“Hey!" Steve claps twice in front of his face. "Dude, I have to go to work, this is your last call.”

He’s in a navy uniform shirt and trousers, a badge on the breast pocket, and a flag on the arm. 

“Are you a cop?”

Steve stops in his tracks. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

Eddie gestures at him. “The shirt. Are you a cop now?”

Steve puts his hands up in defeat. “You know what? Don’t go to work, whatever man, I haven’t got time for this shit.”

Eddie feels so lost. His head is pounding, and he thinks he’s going to be sick. “Who’s… is this your place?”

Steve’s brows furrow for a second before the look of disappointment returns. “I swear to God if you’re high…”

Is he high? Eddie feels off, maybe he is high, his head is spinning and he wants to sleep so, so badly. “I’m tired,” is all he can manage before dropping his head back on the pillow. He just wants to sleep. His eyes shutter until he feels Steve next to him on the bed, reaching over and touching his forehead.

“Are you feeling okay? Are you sick?” Steve’s voice is softer, warmer now. 

“I’m… confused. I don’t know…” The words don’t come, the questions are there but he can’t push them out, his tongue feels too big for his mouth, his throat dry and scratchy. “I don’t know where…” Eddie’s eyes roam around the room trying to take it in. They land on a dresser with framed photographs. One of Steve and Robin, Steve dressed like a firefighter. One of Steve and Eddie and they’re kissing and he doesn’t understand because is it a joke? Maybe? It’s probably a joke, and the costume is for Halloween.

Steve reaches over and starts to stroke Eddie’s hair, and he looks concerned and sad. Eddie doesn’t know why Steve Harrington would look that way at him.

“You’re scaring me, Eddie.” He keeps stroking Eddie’s hair and it’s nice.

“Why am I here?” The words are a drawl, lazy and loose. If he just shuts his eyes… Steve doesn’t answer him at first, but then he leans over and kisses him on the temple. He squirms under Steve’s touch and pulls away. Steve looks upset, and he didn’t mean for that he just doesn't understand what's happening.

“I’m going to make a phone call, okay? And then I’ll be back, and maybe we’ll try and get you in to see the doctor today, huh?” Steve’s hand is warm and comforting across his head, maybe he can sleep now.

“Okay,” Eddie manages before he closes his eyes.

***

“Eddie, it’s time to wake up.”

He feels the gentle push to his shoulders as he opens his eyes. Steve Harrington is crouching in front of him. He’s wearing a crisp white shirt open at the collar and black pants, a black tie loosened around his neck. He looks handsome. Steve smiles at him sadly, hand stroking across Eddie’s shoulder and down his arm. Eddie’s lying on a bed. There’s a suit jacket and tie throw on a chair in the corner of the room, black dress shoes lying haphazardly underneath. He looks down at himself, the slightly less crisp white shirt, the black pants crumpled up around his ankles.

“Hey. Sorry, you asked me to wake you when everyone had gone.”

“Gone?” he croaks, throat sore and parched.

“Yeah, gone home. Robin and Nancy are still here, they’re cleaning up the food and stuff. Gareth was going to stay but I didn’t think you’d be up to talking tonight. He’s going to swing by tomorrow, okay?”

“Why?” 

There’s a spark of confusion in Steve’s eyes, and the rhythmic stroking along Eddie’s arm comes to a stop.  Eddie feels like he’s upset him. 

“Ed…” Steve begins, and he looks so worried, Eddie thinks, “You know what today is, right? You remember…?”

Eddie remembers holding a broken bottle against Steve’s throat. He remembers stealing an RV. He remembers playing the guitar on an evil version of his roof. But… he shakes his head. He can feel his eyes slipping closed. “I don’t…”

“It was Wayne’s funeral today.”

No. 

What? He’s doing his best to push his eyelids open, but they weigh so much, they won’t stay open. “No. No.” He tries to push himself up to sit. “What are you talking about?”

“Shh, it’s okay, it’s going to be okay.”

“No!” Steve is on the bed, arms wrapped around him as he tries to struggle but he just can’t, he’s too tired, and he just can’t. So he just cries because that’s all he can do.

“I’m so sorry, Ed. I’m so sorry.”

“I don’t understand. He’s not… why are you doing this?” He tries to push Steve away. “Get off of me. Why are you here? Where the fuck am I?!” He’s crying, and Steve Harrington is here (where’s here?!) at Wayne’s funeral (but he’s not dead!) and he just wants to sleep. Fuck he’s so tired.

More hands, Robin is there and Nancy, and none of this makes fucking sense. “Call the doctor, numbers by the phone,” Steve says and Eddie feels the exhaustion creeping its way up his bones, making his muscles weak. He starts to go loose in Steve’s arms and Steve lets him go, lets him sink into the comforter. He doesn’t want to close his eyes but he doesn’t seem to have a say in that.

Steve is crying. “Just rest, okay? Try and get some sleep.” 

He doesn’t want to rest (but he does) he wants to know what the fuck is going on, and where Wayne is (he’s dead, they said he’s dead!) but his eyelids close without his say so.

“I love you,” says Steve.

Eddie sleeps.

***

“Eddie, wake up!”

He’s in bed. It’s large and comfortable and warm and when he opens his eyes Steve Harrington is leaning over him eyes wide and excited.

“What?” asks Eddie.

“They did it. It fucking happened!!”

“What happened?” 

“Gay marriage, dick! Jesus Christ, how much did you drink last night?”

He has this crawling feeling, itching at him. He has no idea where he is, or why Steve is here, and he’s… Eddie reaches out to touch Steve’s face. “You’re old.”

“Fuck you! I’m definitely not marrying you now.”

Eddie flinches “Why would you marry me?” He said the wrong thing because Steve looks so hurt.

“Having trouble remembering things today, huh?” Eddie nods. “It’s okay, that’s fine, let’s get you back to sleep.” Steve opens the covers and climbs under the comforter and then he’s pulling Eddie into his chest, arm wrapped around him, pulling him tight. It’s weird. And it’s lovely. He feels safe. But…

“Steve?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m scared.”

“I know.” He feels warm breath on his ear, a kiss on the top of his head. “Let’s sleep for a while, it will be better when you wake up.”

So they sleep.

***

“Eddie? Ed? Please wake up.”

It’s not like the other times. He’s uncomfortable and he’s sitting in a chair and everything aches. His back, and his hips and his legs and all of it. Jesus.

“Eddie?”

When he opens his eyes they land on Steve. Or, someone very like him. No, it’s him. The hair is grey and the skin wrinkled, the eyes are watery but they're his. They are Steve’s. He’s in a hospital bed and he looks weak. Eddie doesn’t think he’s ever seen him look weak.

“Steve?”

“Are you with me?” asks Steve, and his voice has changed. Tight and brittle. But it’s still him, underneath it.

“Are you sick?” Eddie asks, and his voice is weird too. 

Steve looks at him like he’ll never see him again. Like he’s trying to remember him. “Come ‘ere,” and he opens his arms doing his best to scoot over, making room for Eddie. “I want to talk to you.” Eddie gets out of the chair, and he aches, he’s not sure if he’s going to be able to make it, but he climbs into the hospital bed with Steve, his back to Steve’s chest. Steve grips him weakly, and Eddie takes his hands and holds them close to his chest. He feels like he’s missing pieces to a puzzle, but he knows Steve and he can hold onto that.

“You don’t remember, do you?”

“No. Sorry. I’m just… I’m confused.”

“I know, and it’s okay. Do you remember the first time? I was going to work and you thought I was a cop?”

It’s there somewhere, scratching at the back of his mind, he knows it and he doesn’t.

“I called the doctor. I thought you were having a stroke, or you had a tumour or something,” Steve huffs, almost a laugh. “They did tests and scans and they cost us a fortune. But they were clear and you were fine.” Steve sounds out of breath, and he shifts uncomfortably beside Eddie.

“Then it happened again, at Wayne’s funeral.” That does jar something in Eddie, and he feels a stab of pain because there was a funeral but Wayne isn’t dead.

“I don’t—”

“I know, shh, I know. Robin and Nancy were there, they saw. We were so scared. But when you woke up you were fine, like nothing had happened. And then it happened years later—”

“Marriage.”

“Yeah,” Steve laughs weakly, “marriage. We’d figured it out by then. What you were doing.”

“Did it happen anymore?”

“Once or twice.”

“Are you sick?”

“Yeah. And I need my Eddie back because I don’t have very long, okay?”

“Am I not your Eddie?”

“Not yet, but you will be.”

Steve kisses the back of his head and Eddie squeezes Steve’s hands between his. 

“Do we love each other?” asks Eddie.

“So much,” Steve answers wetly. He sounds so tired, the way Eddie feels all the time. “You need to go back now. I need my Eddie.”

“I don’t know how to go back.”

“Just sleep.”

So he does.

***

“Come on, Eddie. You have to wake up. Please.”

Eddie hears the soft voice, almost a whisper in his ear. He’s burning, skin on fire, hot needles nipping at his arms, his legs, his abdomen. He tries to move his hand but there’s a weight, a pull on it. Fingers in his palm. They squeeze gently. He tries his best to squeeze back.

“Eddie?”

He opens his eyes, sticky and sore, and slams them shut just as fast. The light is painfully bright, and he registers a voice in the background, turn the light off, before he tries again. Steve is sitting beside him, and he is young, his chestnut hair full and healthy, skin clear and smooth. He looks so relieved to see Eddie, and Eddie wonders if he loves him now, or if that’s still to come. 

“Where’s Wayne?” Eddie asks panicked.

“Getting coffee. He'll be back soon.”

“Okay.” He hurts so much, everywhere burns. “Okay.”

“You scared the shit out of us, man.”

Eddie opens his eyes again and looks into Steve’s. There’s no milkiness, they’re bright, red-rimmed but clear. “You’re a firefighter.”

“Huh?”

“Yeah. My life… it like… flashed. But I saw all of it. All of it. You’re a firefighter. And I was at Wayne’s funeral,” his vision blurs, tears springing ready to spill. “They legalised gay marriage and you had lines by your eyes,” he reaches out to touch Steve’s face. “And then…” He can’t stop it when the tears come. “We were old, and you were sick and you told me… you told me you needed your Eddie back and I had to come back here.”

Steve stares back at him with a deep frown. “Okay, well. I don't know about the gay marriage thing but... firefighter sounds cool? Right? I think I’d be a good firefighter. I think I’d look good in the uniform.” 

Eddie laughs, he cries and he laughs. “You did.” Steve grins back at him squeezing his fingers. 

His eyelids are heavy, always so heavy.

So he closes his eyes.

And falls asleep.

#stwgdailyprompt #eddie munson #steve harrington #steddie fanfic #stranger things #steddie fanfiction #steve x eddie #eddie x steve #angst #but with a happy ending #in my opinion #waking up #dreamy writes

[half-oz-eddie]

Thursday's Broken Promise

Steve woke up to the buzzing of his alarm with a soft smile on his face. He used to hate mornings, but Billy changed all of that for him. They fell into a love-filled routine of alternating between who cooks breakfasts, and who cooks dinner. 

It was Thursday, which meant it was Billy’s day to cook breakfast. Normally, by now, Steve would smell the aroma of Billy’s “anti-breakfasts” as Steve called them. Billy would make fried chicken, burritos, breakfast pizzas, anything that didn’t feel like French toast or pancakes. 

Billy only liked those foods when Steve made them, because “Steve’s the sweet one,” and he knows how to make those sweet and delightful deserts for breakfast—“cinnamon-sugar-whatever-the-fucks” he’d teasingly call them. 

They were in love, and it was beautiful.

But this particular morning, Steve was confused. Why didn’t he smell those savory aromas in the air, or faintly hear Billy’s metal playlist playing downstairs? Not a clanking pot, sizzling pan, not a curse being mumbled, nothing—the house was purely silent.

He went downstairs to investigate, calling BIlly’s name. 

He wasn’t in the kitchen, not in the bathroom…nowhere at all. 

Steve grabbed the landline and dialed Billy’s phone, but it went straight to voicemail. 

In the 2 years, 6 months and 25 days they’d been together, this was unusual. Billy would always do his own thing, but he never made Steve worry. 

“Okay, okay, don’t panic. Sometimes Billy’s just a little overwhelmed and-and he goes off to his favorite spots to relax.”

He checked the woods behind the Hopper-Byers house first. After the Starcourt incident, Billy would wander into the woods there to be alone and reflect. Joyce would bring him dinner or dessert until he eventually warmed up to them.

Billy wasn’t there.

“Okay…maybe he’s with Max?”

Billy and Max repaired their relationship over time. Often times, they’d both sneak off to the skate park early in the morning, or go to the quarry together.

Billy wasn’t in either of those places. 

Steve checked all the places he could think of, calling all the people that came to mind, calling Billy’s phone, leaving him 5 voicemails, and then a 6th, his voice breaking. 

“Billy…baby, please come home. Whatever happened, I promise we can fix it! I'll fix it! I'll do better. I promise. Just...please call me?”

Steve returned home hours later. He was a no call, no show at work, likely to get fired, but he didn’t care. If he lost Billy, it was like losing everything already. 

He tried to keep a clear head, but he could feel himself spiraling, his stomach churning at the thought of Billy actually being gone.

He looked around for some sort of clues, anything. He quickly learned that Billy’s basketball duffel was missing. There was a small pile of hangers on the floor, and a space on the wardrobe where his clothes used to be. 

Billy left him.

“Wh—why’d he do this? We were so good, so happy!”

He went down to the police station to file a missing person’s report. Something had to be wrong. 

“Can’t file a missing person’s report over this, Steve.”

“What? Why not?” Steve questioned Hopper. “This isn’t like him, you should know that!”

“This is exactly like him, kid. He’s a loose canon, sporadic, doesn’t like to be told what to do or tied down. Just cut your losses. He left you. Probably went off to find himself.”

Hopper’s words were so cold and matter-of-fact, but maybe he was right. Even still, Steve refused to give up on him.

He spent 2 weeks driving across the country, stopping at all the places Billy ever mentioned in conversations. A bar he wanted to visit in Texas, how intrigued he was by facts he’d read about Salt Lake City, his plans to gamble in Las Vegas, and of course, his endless memories in California. 

Steve traveled to each of those places searching for Billy, finally stopping in California. 

On his way, he called Sid. 

Billy was so scatterbrained after Starcourt. He’d write numbers down and then misplace the papers all the time. Sid changed numbers a lot, so Steve would save the numbers every time Billy wrote them down. He just wanted to make things easier for Billy.

Sid told Steve that Billy called him 2 days prior and told him he’d been planning a trip back to California. A permanent one. Said he needed to get as far away from Hawkins as possible.

Steve’s heart sank. He automatically assumed it was his fault, but Sid assured him it wasn’t.

“Billy loves you, man. Loves you more than anything. I dunno what happened, but he said he needed to get out of Hawkins as soon as possible and that it was gonna hurt like hell when he never saw you again.”

Steve could not stand the possibility of never waking up to the aromas of Billy’s breakfast, or feeling his hand sliding across his chest in the middle of the night for reassurance. He couldn’t cope with the thought of never hearing Billy’s laugh again or how noisy he made the house all by himself. 

They had so many plans for the future. So many things they were going to do. So many tomorrows they'd talked about. This couldn’t be the end for them.

He drove around California for another half a day, finally spotting Billy’s Camaro parked by the beach.

He parked a few feet away and just watched him. He watched to make sure that there wasn’t somebody else, relieved when he saw Billy get out of his car all alone, but also so distressed to see Billy so lonely again. 

He sat on the hood of his car, eating a bag of sunflower seeds. Steve wondered if Billy was taking care of himself, neglecting the fact that he’d barely eaten or slept himself. 

He got out of his car and ran toward Billy, shouting his name. 

Billy stiffened up, trying to pretend he couldn’t hear Steve, even when he approached the car. “Billy. Billy? Wh—what the hell’re you doing? Why’d you just leave home like that?”

“I was hearing his voice again.”

“What? Who?”

“The fucking mind flayer, Steve!” He raised his voice to a volume Steve hadn’t heard in a long time. Ever since they got together, Billy became much quieter and softer, where’d that Billy go?

“You were hearing the mind flayer again and you didn’t tell me?”

“I didn’t wanna hurt you. I thought I’d just get away from Hawkins to where the mind flayer couldn’t reach me, and everyone could move on and forget about me.”

“Forget about you?!” Steve nearly pulled his hair right out of his head. “I uprooted my whole life to find you. I tried to file a police report, I searched all the places you’ve ever mentioned to me—I even called Sid!”

“You called Sid?” Billy raised a brow in surprise. 

“Of course I called Sid, you idiot! I haven’t been to work, I’ve hardly eaten, barely slept…all I wanted was for you to come home!”

“I can’t come home, Steve. Why can’t you just forget about me after everything I’ve done?”

“Because you’re part of me, Billy! And I-I’m completely done for. I can’t live a life that doesn’t have you in it. When you left, you took every part of me with you that existed.”

Billy rolled his eyes. “I didn’t—“

“Look at me, Billy.”

He refused.

“Look at me!”

Billy met Steve’s sunken, bloodshot eyes. His skin was pale, his hair was messy, and he smelled pretty damn bad. What did he do to him?

“Steve, I’m sorry—“

“Sorry for what, exactly? For breaking my heart? Or sorry for “doing what you thought you needed to do?” Huh? What is it, Billy?!” 

“I’m just…sorry. Sorry for everything. I left Hawkins because when I started hearing the mind flayer’s voice, I thought he was alive again and gonna make me hurt people. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I ever lost control and hurt you.”

“Billy. The mind flayer is gone. El told you that more than once.”

“Then why did I hear his voice?! Something’s not right, Steve. I can’t go back there. I can’t.”

Steve deflated. “But…what about me? What about us?”

“You’ve got a life there. You have a family, friends that love you. I don’t have anything like that. You could meet a nice girl and have that shit load of kids you wanted and forget about me—“

“No. I can’t. If…if you’re gonna stay here, away from Hawkins, I’ll stay here too.”

“You sure?”

“All I wanted to do was find you, Billy. All I could think about was being with you, and nothing else. You’re the only future I want.”

Billy leaned in and kissed Steve. “I’m sorry.” He apologized again.

“You’d better be. You still owe me breakfast. I woke up that morning expecting some of those spicy burritos.”

“When we finally get a place again, I’ll make you as many fuckin’ burritos as you want.” He kissed Steve once more.

“I’ll hold you to that promise.”

#writing things to avoid writing other things #a little modern canon divergent angst #but with a happy ending #harringrove twin flames #runner billy #chaser steve #harringrove #harringrove fanfiction #billy hargrove #steve harrington #ivy.doc

[innerslumber]

Unrequited

There is one thing that Bucky Barnes knows for certain and it's that he loves Steve Rogers. The other thing he knows is that his love will never be returned. After all, the flowers only come when it's unrequited and surely they can't be wrong?

Bucky loves Steve through the decades and slowly waits for his death.

A hanahaki @stuckybingo fic. Card: R4064.

Square G1: “Jerk.”

[ Chapter 01 ]

#Steve Rogers #Bucky Barnes #stucky #stevebucky #stuckybingo #hanahaki #hanahaki disease #angst #and more angst #but with a happy ending

[parkitaco]

And anyway, it's too late to back out now, with him lying on the single bed of their hotel room, Jonathan and Argyle sleeping on the other side of the wall. There's a tin cup on the floor that still holds half a joint in it and the whole room is hazy with smoke, and Mike's head is hanging off the end of the bed, upside-down and pink-cheeked, and Will can feel the slow rush of the drug flooding his system. Will's fault, Will's idea. His brother's stolen stash on the floor between them, Will's eyes already unfocused, Will's guilty, guilty love hanging in the air around him, refusing to fade away along with the smoke like he secretly hoped it might.

Oh, he thinks dimly, as his senses glitch, and his eyes lock on Mike's: this was a bad idea.

#i haven't a clue what to tag this but um #yes here u go #byler fic #volume 1 era!! bc i miss it #will byers #mike wheeler #sad boys :(( #but with a happy ending #st fic

[y0url0verb0y]

I just watched corpse bride for the 1st time (ik don't clock me) and Oh. My. God I'm so fucking *pissed*. Why was Victor and Emily not endgame?!??!?!?!?!? Like tf?!?!?!?!? Got me bawling my eyes out. She *deserved* to be selfish and marry that man for eternity. But she didn't, and I mean I love her for that but come. tf. on

#corpse bride #victor van dort #emily corpse bride #they should've been endgame #why would you do this to me #i'm so upset #how do i live after this? #now i rlly wanna write that jegulus corpse bride au #but with a happy ending #where they get together #because they deserve it #jegulus

[oberthinkin]

I love baikei seals because I too look like this:

Constantly on the verge of tear, and cute

#they are THE negative regression animal #big strong chonkers that look so so so sad and like they're gonna cry #they are usually okay though :> them big eyes help them hunt in a deep lake #neg regression #negative regression #but with a happy ending

[shannaraisles]

Don't Look - for @euryalex

A little bit of hurt/comfort angst and fluff for the lovely @euryalex, who is an absolute treasure to work with. Thank you, my lovely!

Don't Look

The moon rose high and full, casting silvered light across the quiet city. In a forgotten corner, tucked away from the thieves and the nobles and all those who were always seeking more, a mirror flickered in the glow of the moon, the reflection seeming to beckon the viewer closer. 

Tara stood before it, her face turned away from that reflection. She could not bring herself to look, knowing what she would see, unwilling to face the reminder of her weakness, her failure. Mutilation inflicted upon her person, at her own hand, by a being somehow less capable of compassion and care than the illithid that threatened them all. Bile coated her throat as she forced the memory of that terrible scene from her mind, refusing to face it, to recall what she had allowed to be done to herself. To acknowledge that she had more strength to defend those she loved than to defend her own self. It was too bitter to revisit, too raw to dare touch upon. Not yet.

“Dear one.”

The warmth of Wyll’s voice sent a shudder through her, even as he stepped from the shadows to curl an arm about her waist, drawing her into his unquestioning embrace. She stood stiff in the circle of his arms, unable to bring herself to reach for him, to accept the comfort he offered. How could she, when she had shown herself to be so unworthy of it?

“Tara, look at me.”

She shook her head, shivering in the grip of her own denial, her own pain, as the heat of his breath warmed her brow, as his lips traced undeserved kisses against her skin. His hands tightened on her, refusing to let her pull away even if she had the strength to try. 

“I am not leaving you to fall into this darkness,” he murmured. “I may not know the depth of the pain, but I know that facing it is where you can begin to put it away.”

“I can’t,” she began, faltering when he pressed a kiss to the curve of her cheekbone, so close to the evidence of her weakness. 

“That is not truth, dearest one,” he said, his voice deliberately low, gentle, but somehow determined. “It is not that you can’t, but that you won’t. And I do know that reluctance, at least in part. I swear to you, you can do this. It will not be easy, it may feel as though it is tearing you apart, but I will be here every moment. I will not let you fall from me.”

Hesitation filled her mind. Could she? Could she truly raise her gaze to his? Did she have any right to meet the eyes of a man who knew himself through and through, a man who seemed to have never told himself any lies and been caught in them? His finger gently curled beneath her chin, urging her head up, his own head ducking to catch her before she could flicker her eyes away from his. 

“There you are.”

His smile was just as warm, just as affectionate as ever. It was as though he saw nothing wrong with her; as though he did not even notice the ugly scar that crossed from her brow to her cheek, or the rheumy white of her damaged eye. How could he look at her and not flinch away? How could he stand to see her so ugly?

His grip on her chin remained, gentle but firm, refusing to allow her to hide from the warmth in his loving gaze.

“Tara.” Her name on his lips was tender, unflinching, denying her any hope of escaping from this loving intervention he had chosen to stage before she could sink too far from his grasp. “Talk to me. Give me the words you cannot say to yourself.”

She stared at him, her mouth working in impotent silence for one long, terrible moment. How did he know? How could he possibly have known that she could not say this to herself and truly mean it?

“I-I ...” She shook her head, her eyes flickering away from the unwavering honesty of his. “How can you bear to look at me? I’m hideous, and I ... I did this to myself.”

“No.”

His grip on her tightened imperceptibly, urging her to look back at him, to see the stern certainty in his face as he stared down her unkindness to herself.

“You are more beautiful in this moment than I have ever seen you before,” he said, already speaking over her objections before she could even begin to voice them. “No, listen to me. You may feel disfigured, and you have every right to feel that. But it does not take away from the beauty of the woman you are. Do these horns make me any less in your eyes?”

“Of course they don’t,” she rushed to assure him. “Wyll, you are beautiful to me, no matter whether you wear horns or not.”

“And yet you will not believe me when I tell you that you are beautiful to me, no matter the scars on your face?”

Tara faltered, unable to respond for an agonising moment, knowing he spoke truth to her even in these terrible throes of shame and pride and broken edges. She twisted in the circle of his arms, fingers grasping the worn leather of his vest.

“But ... I did this to myself!” She bit down on a wail, fighting back the tears that so desperately wanted to fall in the wake of what had happened in Aevan’s lair not so many hours before. “I was weak. I let him hurt me again, and again, and I did nothing!”

“Tara ...”

He gripped her shoulders, shaking her just a little, just enough to draw her attention back to him before he lost her into the maelstrom of her anguish.

“How can you say that about yourself?” he demanded, not harsh but not gentle. “Do you know what I saw in those moments? I saw strength. I saw selfless love. Love for us, for the friends and companions who are yours to command. You would rather endure pain, lasting damage, than raise a hand to those who choose to give you their loyalty and love. Do you have any idea how precious that is to us? To me?”

“Precious?”

He held her gaze, somehow managing to ease even closer into her embrace, to draw her closer into his, all the while refusing to allow her to look away, to hide the disfigurement of her face from his loving eyes. 

“No one,” he whispered to her, each word a tender kiss on the air, “no one has ever protected me as you did today. I do not see a scar, my dearest one. I see all your courage, all your strength, all the beauty of your noble soul, laid bare for the world to see.”

His lips, so warm and sure, laid a soft kiss directly over the lid of her colourless eye, and Tara felt the dam inside her begin to break. Slowly, with at first one sob tightly suppressed ... then another, and another, until at last the storm broke within and without, shaking her form, ravaging her calm, forcing all her pain and pride and broken self to the surface to be cleansed by the devastation of allowing herself consent to simply let it all go. She shuddered and shook, clutching to him, clinging to her only anchor in a storm not entirely of her own making, as her ravaged face twisted and contorted, sucking in huge, gulping breaths between ugly bouts of barking grief for what she had done and what she had lost. And Wyll was there through it all, holding her close, rocking her tenderly, giving her time and space and safety to feel it all and find her way back to him, no longer a slave to the petty cruelty of a man who now could never hurt her again.

Even after, as the storm passed, leaving her hiccuping and small in its wake, ashamed of her outburst and afraid to look up once again, Wyll remained, big hands stroking through her hair, down her back, gathering her close as he swayed to a tune only he heard. Offering kisses to her bitten lips, taking the unkindness of her words from her and returning them with the sweetness of his love. 

“You will forever be beautiful to me, my dearest one,” he whispered to her, each breath more of a promise than the last of the life they might now finally be free to pursue together, once the looming peril was done. “You have my heart in your hands, now and forever more.”

She hiccuped again, dashing the wetness from her cheeks as she looked up at him with a half-smile daring to make itself known on her face. 

“I think that would be rather messy,” she managed. “Better to keep it in your chest, where it belongs.”

Wyll chuckled, hugging her tight as she finally leaned into him, tucking her face into the crook of his shoulder as he kissed her hair fondly.

“Perhaps you’re right,” he conceded. “It would be a little distracting to have a beating heart thumping away in your fist while you’re busy staring down a merchant with a bad attitude.”

She giggled - just a little, just enough that the sound from her was no longer laden with grief or pain, nestling into the wrap of his arms with the sense that she was finally back where she belonged. Aevan had no place here. She would never let him come between them again.  No, she hadn’t looked into the mirror, and she wouldn’t, not for some time yet. But it didn’t seem to matter quite so much that her imperfect perfection had been marred. Time would change her anyway; this had simply accelerated a process that was going to steal beauty from her physical form eventually. So long as Wyll still wanted her, broken and bruised as she was, then who was she to argue? And if others had a problem with her appearance, then she could always tell them to do as she did ... don’t look.

#niamh's writing #euryalex #commission #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #wyll ravengard #oc - tara lunarsong #wyll x tara #wyll x oc #hurt/comfort #angst #fluff #tw: scars #tw: mentions of abuse #tw: mentions of physical violence #but with a happy ending #promise

[softquietsteadylove]

For part 4: I've got this idea of mine where Thena blaming Minerva for what happened to Gil and she ordered her that he wants Gil back under her after this mission.

I want you to decide for the rest! I know this is a lot and I am sorry TT, I just wanna say again that your works are beautiful and so are you. Thank you! xoxo

"How'd it go?"

Thena closed the passenger side door with a huff, clipping her seat belt rather aggressively. "It could have gone worse, I suppose."

"So you didn't mouth off and get fired?" Kingo asked as he pulled out of the lot of the agency office building. "I would say I was impressed if you weren't already on suspension for it."

Thena just shrugged. She didn't much care about the suspension, even considering she was a senior agent, and this kind of thing would reflect on her for a very long time to come. It was a well deserved suspension, given how she had screamed in the face of not only Minerva but the Section Chief as well.

All that having been said, Gil had almost died.

The recovery operation was a success. Thena was the best when it came to infiltration, especially after things had already not gone to plan. She and the rest of Special Ops had arrived at the scene and cleaned things up concisely and without mercy.

She had gone further in with Kingo, intent on finding Gil. At the very least they had confirmed that he wasn't one of the reported casualties, but that still left him as potentially injured.

Thena had found him in one of the back corners of the labyrinth of storage lockers. He was barely breathing and there was blood everywhere. If they had been any later, he probably would have...

She had gone in the ambulance with him, Kingo having covered for her absence, with Minerva's help to corroborate Thena's definitely-good-enough reason for leaving the scene.

She owed that much to Minerva, and after she had gotten in her face about the whole thing being her fault. That was unfair of her, and Thena knew it. She knew what being a team leader meant--what it meant to have people's lives in their hands and be solely responsible for it when things went bad.

She was feeling...fragile.

Minerva had taken it like a champ, because of course she had. She didn't reprimand Thena for it, didn't shout back at her, didn't even demand an apology for it later.

The Chief still had her suspended for her behaviour but Thena hadn't cared then and she still didn't, now.

"Did you do what I told you?" Kingo asked as he drove, letting Thena take it easy in the passenger's seat.

Thena crossed her arms, "I displayed...appropriate remorse."

Kingo rolled his eyes, "come on, Boss. I can't do shit with both you and Gil out of commission."

"I know," she mumbled, looking down at her bag on her lap. She really had attempted to appear apologetic for her actions. "I did offer my apologies for it."

"Did you seem sorry?" Kingo looked over at her as he slowed to a stop, "really?"

Thena rolled her eyes and shook her head, "sorry enough."

"So, no," Kingo scoffed and shook his head as well. "If you and Gil get fired, I've gotta get out of this line of work."

Thena smiled, "we're not fired, Kingo. Not yet, anyway."

"Yet," he huffed as he started driving again. He glanced at her, "the transfer?"

"I said that even if I was fired, Gil would be back on Special Ops in exchange."

"Thena-"

"It was the only way I'd go peacefully," she shrugged, repeating it exactly as she had stated it in her probation hearing. "That's all that matters."

Kingo snuck his eyes over to her as she toyed with the bag on her knees. She was fidgeting. "You really think Gil is going to still work here if you don't?"

Thena ignored him. "It's just one more week."

Kingo made a grand show of rolling his eyes at her as he pulled over, "I don't know, Boss. I've already neglected all the paperwork I can. They're going to start asking me to actually do it instead of waiting for you to get back."

Thena gave him a smile as she gripped the handle of the car door, "serves you right."

He leaned down to look at her even as she got out, "just come back soon, please? And tell the big guy I want him back even sooner!"

Thena waved to him as he drove off again. She had to admit, Kingo didn't drive as much like a hellion as she had initially expected he would. And he had very helpfully given her a ride whenever she needed it during her suspension period. She turned, letting herself into the apartment with her key.

"Hey!"

"Hey," she smiled as she walked in, kicking off her shoes by the door and walking into the kitchen. "I'm getting a little too used to not having to wear heels."

"Well, it's not like you need 'em."

Thena rounded the corner, leaning against the wall as she admired the sight of Gilgamesh in the kitchen, on his feet, alive and well. Moderately well, "what's on?"

"Just some easy pasta," he smiled at her from the stove, stirring it with his left hand while his right remained in a sling. She gave him a look and he laughed outright, "relax, nothing strenuous involved."

He had taken a bullet to the leg, as well as endured a shattered clavicle that would have him in a sling for two months. He would still be on desk duty even by the time he was cleared to return to work.

Thena wandered closer, inhaling the delicious smelling sauce. He really was a surprisingly skilled home cook.

He looked over at her, the sizzling of pasta underscoring them. "Get fired?"

"No, but I think Minerva vouched for both of us," Thena sighed. She didn't love the idea of being indebted to her old comrade, but she had to admit that she owed her quite a lot, at this point. "They said that the suspension will be over next week, and after that they'll 'keep an eye on me', so... "

He nudged her with his good elbow gently, "I told you not to speak your mind. Just tell them you're very sorry for what you did and move on."

She raised a brow at him, "is that what you said at your probation hearing?"

"No, I told them that they were old bastards who could go to hell."

Thena laughed, partly from the joke, and partly because it probably wasn't that far from the truth, knowing Gil. For all the shit she got for not minding her manners around their superiors, Gil was a pretty honest guy, even in the worst scenarios.

Gil turned off the stove burner and turned to her, "you were pretty hurt, after that op. I couldn't just let that go."

She looked up at him too, her eyes drifting over the sling holding his arm and then down over the extensive bandaging he had received in the hospital. Even a week after being released, some of them still had to be maintained regularly. "How do you think I felt?"

He smiled, giving her shoulder a squeeze before moving to the cupboard with the bowls, "hey, we got through it--both of us."

Thena moved faster, bumping him out of the way with her hip to reach them before he could, "barely."

He smiled, letting her reach them for herself, instead moving to get them both water glasses. "But we did."

Thena set down the bowls beside the pan of pasta. She had apologised plenty already, and that was after Gil had awoken and told her he didn't have any clue what she was apologising for (and telling her to take it back, too). But seeing him more in the past week than she had in the past month still made her heart clench in her chest.

"Thena?"

She smiled, spooning out plenty for both of them (although that meant that his serving was double the size of hers). "Sit down, Gilgamesh."

He chuckled, obeying the order with a big grin on his face, "yes, ma'am."

She let him see her rolling her eyes at him as she came over with their lunch. She sat down, leaving her suit jacket on the back of her chair. She kept forgetting things at Gil's place, being here to help take care of him so often. She had reminded herself plenty of times already not to get so comfortable here.

"Hey."

Thena looked up, already smiling because Gil was. He twirled some pasta around his fork from his bowl and held up the bite for her. He was cute; she shook her head at him. "I have my own."

Gil shrugged, "you need more. This is why you're so skinny."

Thena's jaw dropped, although it made an opening for Gil to poke at her lip with the pasta fork. She huffed before biting down on it with a glare. "You are still my Agent, Gilgamesh."

"Sorry, sir," he laughed as he pulled the fork back. "Y'know, I thought you were kinda skinny for an Agent when you first recruited me, too."

"Oh, did you," Thena scoffed as she took a bite of her own lunch. "What else did you think?--since you're feeling candid?"

Gil shrugged, his shoulders still moving with his barely contained laughter, "that you weren't nearly as hard to read as everyone said you were."

She rolled her eyes again.

"And that you were kinda pretty, too."

She stopped in the middle of bringing her fork up to her lips. She looked over at him but he was shovelling in another bite, as if he hadn't even heard what he'd said.

"This is isn't bad for only having one hand," he commented as he took a massive bite for himself.

Thena just sighed and took another bite as well. It was moments like this that made her not want her suspension to actually end.

#Thenamesh Special Forces AU #pt 4 #no you're beautiful anon!! #but really thank you #thank you for entrusting me with your idea! #I hope you like how it's turned out! #very drama very angst #but with a happy ending #because I am a soft hearted bird #I am a soft birb #and I cannot take heartache #I think Thena would understand what position Minerva was put in #and while she's not happy about Gil being put in danger #I don't think she would have it in her to really truly blame Minerva for him getting hurt #and Minerva also understands why Thena lashed out #especially when she saw her leave in the ambulance with him #hunched over his body with tears in her eyes #The Chief had already told her she was on suspension #he turned around to reprimand her some more and Kingo said she was...injured #Minerva agreed yes sir she also needed medical attention that's why she's gone #anyway #Thena is helping take care of Gil #because the doctor asked if he lived alone or if he had someone who could help him #and Thena said I volunteer as tribute #she's there more often than not #like she goes back to her place sometimes #but it's really not as often as one might suspect of 'platonic co-workers'

[doodleimprovement]

Okay okay this is the last one shot, me thinks.... for now :)

Synopsis:

Adaman knew these symptoms.

He knew them painfully well. He’d studied them, he’d attended to them, and he’d seen them develop and worsen over the course of weeks.

The heavy feeling settling in his stomach told him that he should have known sooner.

-

Akari had been poisoned, and while on the hunt for the cure, Adaman takes stock of Akari's situation, with a not insignificant amount of assistance from the odd Pearl Clan Warden

#pokemon legends arceus #adaman #big brother adaman #pokemon adaman #pla adaman #submas #submas ingo #uncle ingo #ingo #pla ingo #pla akari #akari #pokemon akari #volo #pla volo #pokemon volo #this is an angsty one folks #but with a happy ending #theres more characters but im not gonna tag them all in ful #antonia writes #antonias fandoms

[cheile]

Chapters: 2/2 Fandom: Star Trek: Voyager Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Tabor/Billy Telfer Characters: Tabor, Billy Telfer, Tal Celes, Harry Kim, The Doctor, Tom Paris, Freddy Bristow, Hennard, Chell, Malaika Swinn, Megan Delaney Additional Tags: Rarepair, Alternate Universe, Lower Decks Crew, Neurodiversity, Overcoming anxiety, Hazing, Angst and Feels Series: Part 3 of Rainbow vignettes Summary:

Sometimes what you've been searching for has been there all along.

The rarepair I’ve been planning for three years is finally done, lol.  This is set in the Rainbowverse and is mostly lower decks crew.  

BIIIIIG thanks to @elephant-in-the-pride-parade​ and @katesfire82​ for beta services rendered and my Trek discord groups for all the encouragement, cheerleading, writing sprints and general listening to me try to figure things out.   I hope everyone enjoys the read.

[photos courtesy of Trekcore]

#Che's fic #rarepair #Tabor/Telfer #Rainbow vignettes #sort of angsty #but with a happy ending

[bitsandbobsofwriting]

GANG!!

I have FINALLY finished #39 part 2!! 

It’s 11k (😱) so I’ll be splitting it into part 2 and 3 instead of just part 2, and posting them separately (part two will be with you tomorrow (17/05/22) and part three will follow on after a few days). It’s all still in need of some serious editing, but it’ll be here before you know it!! Stick with me Gang!! I love you all so much!!!

#bbc merlin #merthur #merlin #arthur pendragon #sir leon #gwen #guinevere #good morgana #good mordred #gaius #percival #gwaine #lancelot #elyan #hurt merlin #merthur angst #angst to the supreme #but with a happy ending #like the fluffiest ending ive ever written #much love confession #so wow

[cosette141]

Moment of Truth (OUAT fanfic) | for CS Angsty August 2022!!

Fandom: Once Upon A Time

Pairing: Captain Swan (and Captain Charming)

Words: 4k

Summary: After Killian learns he killed David’s father, the secret is eating him alive. So, with a load of courage and even more rum, he brings himself to tell the truth. And he prays he won’t lose the love of his life… or his best friend in the process. (S6 canon divergence where Emma doesn’t find the ring and doesn’t pressure Killian into proposing) for Angsty August 2022, CS, Captain Charming, h/c

AO3

Hi everyone! Here's a two-shot for the CS Angsty August event! :) I'll preface by saying that this has a happy ending, but we're going on a little ride haha.

I absolutely haaated that Emma found the ring in S6 and then pressured Killian into proposing. I wanted to see what it would look like if Emma hadn't found the ring and interrupted his attempt to tell the truth about David's father, and see what would have happened that way.

Hope you guys enjoy the angst ;)

~cosette141

Killian stumbled up the steps to their house.

His and Emma's house.

Their home.

Killian paused, catching his balance on the door frame, swaying with the rum that circulated through his body more than blood.

"Dead men tell no tales."

He slid the blade into the man's ribs.

He watched the life leave his eyes, watched him slump against the cart.

Watched him die.

And he, himself, smiled.

Killian felt sick.

His eyes burned, his body thrummed with the effect of the alcohol and the anxiety of having to tell her—needing to tell her.

"I actually want to tell Emma the truth."

"Well," the cricket had said, proudly, "maybe it's because you are the man that Emma wants to marry."

But what if he isn't?

What if…

He lost his breath, his hand slipping on the door frame as his heart lurched.

What if she leaves him?

He caught his breath, his heart pounding.

He couldn't lose her.

Gods, he's tried so hard.

He's changed.

He's brought himself back, dragged himself back, tore himself away from the darkness.

Twice.

And now, despite all he's done to fix it, his past and the sins he'd thought he left there have come rearing back with a bloody vengeance.

Would he ever truly escape it?

Or would he always be a prisoner of his own mistakes?

"Emma… I'm a villain."

"If you're afraid of losing your happy ending, that means you found it. What is it?"

"Don't you know, Emma? It's you."

He couldn't lose her.

He couldn't lose her.

He couldn't stand to see her look at him with the hatred he saw stare back at him in the mirror.

Killian shut his eyes, the fog of the alcohol only making the thoughts and the fear worse.

He should have known that there was a limit on his happiness with Emma.

Should've known that he never deserved her after all.

Should've known that his past would come back to kill any and all hope of his future.

And the worst part…

He deserved it.

His chest physically hurt.

He deserved to be left alone.

He deserved to see her walk away from him, to see the love for him disappear from her eyes.

True Love be damned.

He deserved to lose his happy ending.

But it wasn't only Emma he was going to lose.

David.

Killian couldn't breathe.

Just last night, less than twenty-four hours ago, David had cried into his chest.

David had embraced him like Liam once had.

And David broke under the suffering of living without his father, the father who hadn't left him like he'd thought.

Suffering that Killian had caused.

David clung onto Killian like his rock, like his brother, like family.

He'd turned to Killian over the loss of his father. Killian; his father's murderer.

Killian's eyes shut, losing feeling in his legs.

David has grown to be the greatest friend that Killian has ever had—to someone that Killian trusted as much as he'd loved and trusted Liam—

And gods, he's hurt him.

He ripped David's family apart and he's hurt him.

Killian's eyes burned.

"Well, you shouldn't have goaded him into it!"

He destroyed both his brothers' lives.

Hell—

All three of them.

Killian's breath hitched, his eyes opening, nothing but torture shining through.

The urge to run was blinding.

To save Emma from him, because she deserved someone better.

But a small voice somewhere in the back of his mind whispered to him to be a man.

To be strong in a lifetime of being weak.

To do it for Emma, because he will not leave her.

He will never leave her.

He will let her leave him—a choke in his throat, a burn in his eyes—but he will never leave her.

His eyes opened, his frame trembling with fear and the clash of where his weakness met his strength, both vying terribly for control.

But he took a shuddering breath.

And he forced himself to move, opening the door, desperately wishing that it won't be the last time he walks into their home.

Killian shut the door, hand shaking.

He heard footsteps from upstairs—

Emma.

A chill shot down his spine, stopping his heart.

"There you are," said Emma, coming down the stairs. She was smiling. She was happy.

And she kissed him immediately, something soft and sweet and happy.

He shut his eyes, trying to memorize the feel of her lips.

The feel of her.

But she pulled back far too soon, and Killian opened his eyes, begging it won't be the last kiss they ever share.

"Oh, wow. Captain Morgan," said Emma, licking her lips with a teasing smile. "I thought we were switching to water."

But Killian didn't smile—couldn't smile—not in lieu of what he was going to do.

He clung onto the strength within him that was fading more and more the longer he looked at her.

"I'm afraid it wouldn't give me the courage that I need," he whispered hollowly, forcing the words out before he could stop them.

Before he could be the coward he's always truly been.

He watched her eyes shift with confusion, and fear rose sharply through him.

Emma.

Hell, he loved her so much.

Please don't let her leave me.

"Courage… for what?" asked Emma unevenly, sensing the tension surrounding him like a vapor.

He felt paralyzed, the words trying to come out, his fear clinging onto them with all his might.

He could feel the ring in his pocket.

He was nearly going to marry her.

He'd just gotten David's blessing.

His blessing.

The man who had hated him, bloody hated him when they'd met.

And who now was his closest friend.

"You're never going to get her."

"Of course, you have my blessing."

Killian had been so close.

So close.

The desire to lie, to keep it to himself, was agony.

But he couldn't handle it.

The secret was tearing him apart, he could hardly live with himself.

He needed her, he needed her to lean on and was bloody terrified that speaking the words would tear her away from him.

Because he knew for certain that if she did, if she looked at him the way he looked at himself…

He couldn't bloody handle it.

"Killian…?"

Killian looked up, seeing Emma watching him with a concerned expression. Something scared in that expression. "What is it?" she asked slowly.

Killian took a breath.

Braced himself.

And bloody prayed she'd still be here after the words left him.

"I need to tell you something," he managed unevenly, the words hoarse, like they'd been through a war and barely made it out alive. "But I'm… I'm not sure how you're going to react."

Killian suddenly wished for more rum.

But no amount of rum could erase this.

Emma's expression only became more concerned. And…

Fearful.

A familiar kind of fearful.

Age-old crumbled walls attempted to rise in her eyes. "Killian, you're scaring me," she whispered. "Y-You're not… not… breaking up with me, are you?"

Her words were hollow and quick and breathless.

And his eyes snapped to hers, quickly saying, "No! Of—of course not, never—" His eyes shut even as he heard her little exhale of relief. "But… love, I wish I could have you promise that to me."

He felt her hand take his, and his eyes opened, utterly tortured.

He felt sick.

Emma's expression was even more concerned now, but not for herself.

For him.

"Killian, what's wrong?" she whispered gently. A little smile— "I promise I'm not going anywhere. You can tell me anything."

But she doesn't know.

He bloody killed her grandfather in cold blood, and he can't stand to tell her, and can't stand to not tell her.

So he shut his eyes, dredged up the words from the sharp claws of his fear, and spoke before he lost the strength to be the man she deserved.

"I killed David's father."

Silence.

He couldn't breathe.

His chest burned.

"What?"

Emma's voice was small, hollow and… confused.

Forcing himself to repeat it, to get it out, Killian said, "Emma, I k-killed David's father. I did it. It was me. The monster your father is looking for… is me." His voice lost all strength, a hot tear burning down his cheek. He went on before she could speak— "I didn't realize until August gave me a photograph of him, and it… it came back to me, and…" His eyes shut, pain ripping through him worse than any agony he's ever suffered. "I found his father tied to a Royal Guard cart as a hostage," he went on, forcing himself to. "I wanted their gold, I k-killed the guards—" His eyes were shut, every voicing of the word kill, another stab to his chest. "His father begged me for his life, promised to keep quiet on what he saw me do—because he—he wanted… he wanted to return to his family—" Another choke in his voice, another tear down his cheek, contempt for himself trailing through him like poison. "It wasn't even as if… as if I didn't believe him," he breathed, "I didn't need to k-kill him, I just… I didn't care—" A hitched breath, his chest burned. He felt sick. "I watched him die at my own blade, the same one that I—that I've used to spar with your father—" Another tear burned, tracking a molten line of regret down his skin, and he was shaking, he was shaking so hard— "E-Emma, I'm so sorry, I'm so bloody sorry, I murdered David's father, your grandfather, I've hurt so many people, I've—I've done so many horrible things and I'm—I'm—I'm a bloody monst—"

But he was suddenly pulled into an embrace.

His words cut off, his eyes flying open as Emma pulled him tightly to her chest, wrapping her arms around him.

In shock, he stared at her, voice hitching, "E-Emma—"

"I love you."

Killian stopped breathing.

His tears froze on his face.

"What?" he breathed.

"I love you," came Emma's voice, shaky but firm, and she pulled back just to see his face, tears on her own cheeks, but her arms only grew tighter around him. "I love you, Killian. No matter who you used to be or what you did."

Another tear burned down Killian's cheek. "But—Emma, I—"

"I know," she whispered, resting her head against his shoulder again. "I know. But I meant what I said. You can tell me anything. I'm not going anywhere."

The clash of relief and utter confusion at her response just had more tears burning down his face. "Why don't you hate me?" he choked out, voice weak and hollow as shattered glass.

"Because the man who did that," she whispered, sure and strong, "was never you." She pulled back a little, his arms reluctant to let her, but he did, and she touched his face, reading every torture in his eyes. "I know you. The man you are right here… this is you." A broken smile. "That's who I love." she said, only holding him tighter. "No matter what Hook did."

He stared at her in shock, unable to process her words.

He'd expected contempt.

He'd expected to see her heart break.

He'd expected her to throw him out, to never speak to him again.

He expected her to hate him as much as he hated himself.

Another tear burned down his cheek. "I don't… Emma… David, I-I—" Another sob escaped him, hell, he was breaking, and Emma was pulling him into her arms even tighter.

"It's okay," she whispered over his shoulder. "We'll figure it out. And we'll get through it. It's okay." She hugged him tighter. "You have me. I'm not going anywhere, Killian. We'll get through this together. I love you, Killian."

And he cried, there in her arms, under the weight of everything Hook had done, everything he had done. Cried for the lives he'd taken and the lives he'd destroyed, and for his own life that had been broken enough to drive him to such darkness.

And he cried from the relief that Emma was still here. That she wasn't leaving, and that he didn't have to break alone.

Emma held him, never letting him go, whispering reassurances, whispering love. Promising him over and over that she will never leave.

He would never understand what he'd done to deserve her—what he'd done to deserve her forgiveness, her unwavering love. And he only hoped he could find a way to make this right for David, and that he wouldn't lose his best friend.

But in lieu of one of the darkest days of his life, having to tell one of his darkest secrets, Emma was a light.

She was here with him, and he didn't have to go through this alone.

-.-.-.-.

Killian felt a familiar fear run through him, and a familiar need for rum.

He felt Emma's fingers in his tighten.

"It's going to be okay," said Emma softly.

Killian swallowed hard, his numb body begging to disagree.

But he looked at her, seeing the sliver of doubt in her eyes, but enough courage and hope for the both of them.

He took a breath, lifting his hook to knock softly on the door to the loft.

He could do this.

He could do this.

Emma had accepted him, had loved him no less after learning the truth of what he's done, but…

Now, he had to tell David.

Emma had spent the whole night holding him tightly as they slept, like she knew that he was still terrified that she would change her mind about him overnight. Emma knew more about abandonment than anyone Killian has ever known, and she never once left his side since he's told her.

She'd offered to tell her father herself, but this was Killian's doing.

He needed to face his own consequences.

Even if the thought of it made him lose all the feeling in his body.

But without any hesitation, Emma chose to come with him, not letting him do this alone.

Killian still didn't understand how she could be so accepting of him, didn't understand how she wasn't angry with him.

How she couldn't hate him.

And it almost made him think that, one day, he might again be able to look into the mirror and meet his own eyes.

He let out a shuddering breath, where he was outside the loft with Emma, only a door separating him from David.

From a break he didn't know if his heart could take.

They heard footsteps approach the door at his knock, and Killian went rigid, his chest tight with lack of breath.

Emma's fingers tightened around his.

And the door opened, revealing David.

Killian nearly flinched.

"Hook," said David with surprise. "Emma. It's early for a visit."

Killian couldn't find his voice.

His mind was playing over every horrible way David could react.

He couldn't help flashing back to the other night.

"Yes. Of course, you have my blessing."

Killian's need for rum was blinding.

Emma looked at him concernedly, then looked at her father. "Um, is Mom home?"

"No," said David, stepping aside to let them inside, and Emma had to tug Killian in gently after her, for his legs were nearly too numb to move. "She's out with your brother on a walk. Why?" He looked at Killian, a little excitement in his eyes, lifting his brow. "Do you two… need to tell me something?"

His gaze snapped to Emma's left hand, brows falling a little when he saw it empty.

Killian felt sick.

"Um," said Emma, confused at the display, but shook it off. She looked to Killian.

Gods, this was harder than telling Emma.

"I… need to tell you something," said Killian, dredging up the courage from last night, that seemed to have buried itself even deeper within him, even harder to reach.

Emma's fingers tightened even more around his, lending him strength.

David caught the tension, and he crossed his arms, saying, "Okay. What is it?"

Killian shut his eyes.

Felt sick.

Utterly, horribly sick.

"David," he breathed, forcing himself to meet David's eyes. "The man who… who killed your father—"

David lifted a hand, expression shifting. "I've already decided that you were right. I'm not going to look into it anymore; there's no point finding the exact man who—"

"It was me."

The words were barely a whisper.

Killian's heart was pounding so hard it hurt.

David's words dried up in an instant.

He looked frozen in shock.

Then— "What?"

However similar to Emma's first response, the word wasn't spoken like Emma had said it.

It had a touch of that unhinged anger from days ago.

And it made Killian lose his breath.

But Killian forced himself to say it again. "It was me," he breathed, voice hollow, body numb. "I'm the one who… who killed your father."

His eyes burned.

And David….

Went frighteningly still.

Quickly, Killian said, words breathless, "I di-didn't realize until… until after the night you and I…" His voice broke off. "August found the page in the st-storybook, and I… I recognized him." Forcing himself to continue, he breathed, "I crossed paths with him many years ago, and I—" His voice broke. His eyes burned. "I—I killed him."

David was frozen. Slowly, trapped in shock, he breathed, "You… you did what?"

"David," whispered Killian, his name like agony in Killian's chest, "I am so bloody sorry. I—You've no idea how badly I wish I could take back what I've done. I—I have no excuse for what I—" His choked on the pain. "I'm so sorry," he whispered, voice breaking, a tear burning down his cheek. "David, I'm so sorry."

David stared at him, a million emotions rushing through his eyes. Shock. Anger. Confusion. Disbelief.

When he was quiet too long, Emma whispered, "I… I know this must be really hard to hear, Dad… but Killian… he feels awful and—"

David held up a hand, stumbling away from them. "Just… give me a second."

David braced himself a little on the kitchen island, like he was unsteady.

Killian still couldn't breathe.

David scrubbed a hand over his face, announcing roughly, "I… need some air."

Without waiting for a response, he walked out of the loft, door falling shut behind him.

And Killian felt himself grow horribly, terribly cold.

-.-.-.-.

Emma had poofed them back to the house when David still hadn't returned to the loft after a half an hour, and they didn't want to explain what happened to Snow.

The rest of the day went by agonizingly, Killian feeling horribly numb.

Emma still never left his side.

It was dark outside by the time there was a knock at the door.

"I think that's Henry," said Emma softly, getting off the couch, reluctantly releasing Killian's hand to get the door.

Emma opened the door, and Killian heard a little gasp from her, and a familiar voice say, "…Hey."

Killian froze.

"Is… Hook…?" began David, and Emma rushed to say, "Yeah, he's right here."

Killian was on his feet in seconds.

Heart pounding.

David walked a few steps in, eyes slowly meeting Killian's.

Killian's breathing stopped.

David let out a long breath. Then— "I gave things a lot of… thought."

Killian's chest burned.

He braced himself for the hatred.

But he already knew he wouldn't be able to handle it.

"And…" David sighed, like the words came from an eternity of reflection. Killian's chest tightened. But David gave another sigh, something that looked like a release, and he said, "It was a long time ago."

Killian, who had braced himself for a punch to the jaw or words that would hurt more, felt his brows raise. "What?" he breathed.

David let out another breath, meeting Killian's eyes easier this time. "The person you were then.. isn't who you are now. You've changed, and we've all seen the lengths you've gone to make up for the person you were. You saved Emma a million times over, you saved my ass in Neverland, all of us, really, over the years—hell, you even died for us."

Killian couldn't believe his ears.

He still couldn't convince himself to breathe.

With a lighter sigh, David finished, "You aren't the villain you once were."

Killian stared in disbelief.

"I'm not going to say it's easy to know what you did—" said David, as Killian nearly flinched. A meaningfulness slipped into David's eyes. "But a villain—the man who… who did that…" Something of a thoughtful, touched look crossed David's face. "Well, he wouldn't even have told me."

Killian's breath froze.

And out of the corner of his eye, he saw Emma smile.

David winced a little at the sheer lack of color in Killian's face. "You look like hell over this, and… I know you regret it."

"More than anything," Killian breathed.

"Regina has hurt and even killed our family and people and friends," said David, a little uneasily, "and even after we accepted her despite it, and we all became family…" His brows kneaded. "She's never apologized to or regretted who she's hurt in her past once." Looking Killian in the eye, David said, "There's a difference between starting to do good instead of bad… and becoming good." A slight smile. "You're that difference, Killian."

Killian.

David took another step, standing in front of Killian, who was staring at David like he was an utter enigma. And meeting his gaze, David said heavily, "You aren't the man who killed my father. You are the man who was there for me the other night. That was you." A soft look—the same one David had given him when Killian had asked for Emma's hand. "And that man is my best friend."

Killian listened in shock.

And David smiled a little, gently clapping a hand on Killian's shoulder. "Nothing about that night… nothing I said to you that night has changed."

"Of course you have my blessing."

Killian felt utterly overwhelmed with shock.

He not only had David's forgiveness and his friendship—

But he still had his blessing to marry his daughter?

David smiled at his shock, and without hesitation, pulled Killian into an embrace.

And Killian held him back, feeling like the mirror of the two of them from the other night. A tear burned down Killian's cheek, relief rushing through him so strongly it nearly brought him to his knees.

"I'm so bloody sorry," he whispered.

"I know," said David, pulling back, smiling despite it all. Like even in the light of what he's learned about Killian, it somehow sated his search for vengeance. It somehow gave him what he'd been looking for, and the look in his eyes was something almost like exhausted relief.

Which only matched the look in Emma's eyes, tears in hers as well, watching them with her own smile.

And yet, Killian still couldn't understand how they didn't hate him.

But maybe the fact that they didn't, even after hearing that he'd committed one of the worst sins, the worst mistakes of his life, after hurting them yet still getting their forgiveness…

Then maybe…

Maybe he… did deserve forgiveness.

Maybe…

He even deserved his own.

He didn't know how to forgive himself, there was so much he's done that felt unforgivable.

But theirs gave him hope for his own.

Killian felt himself smile a little, something whole and broken at once, feeling like a weight has been lifted.

"I'll see you two tomorrow," said David, walking back to the door, giving Killian one more meaningful look before bidding a goodnight, and leaving.

Emma closed the door, smiling to Killian. "You okay?"

Killian let out a heavy breath. "Aye," he whispered, meaning it.

"You deserve his forgiveness," said Emma softly, as if reading his mind. "And mine. You know that, right?"

Killian responded with a kiss on her lips. "Emma… you have no idea what it means to have you."

Emma smiled. "Or what it means for me to have you." She brushed his hair across his forehead, saying through her smile, "Thank you for coming to me."

But heat touched his eyes, and he whispered, "Thank you for letting me."

Something warm glistened in her eyes, and she's never looked more beautiful.

"It's you and me, Killian," whispered Emma. "You'll always have me."

He touched her cheek, smiling wider. "And you me, my love."

She looked so happy.

In lieu of learning the worst thing he's ever done, he's almost never seen her look happier.

And it made him smile, with sheer relief that he still had her.

He still had her, and her family.

And it made him realize how much he truly wanted to be in it.

Without a second thought, his hand was reaching into his pocket.

"I…" he began. "I wanted to do this somewhere more… romantic," he whispered, watching confusion on Emma's face. "But… Emma, I feel I've never loved you more than I do right now."

Before she could speak, he pulled the ring from his pocket.

And he sank to one knee.

Emma let out a little gasp, eyes widening.

Killian swallowed, feeling the sudden fear that he hadn't thought this through, that he suddenly didn't know how she would react to this.

But when he saw her eyes light up even brighter, his smile widened.

"Emma Swan," he whispered softly, eyes burning for an entirely new, and entirely better reason. "Will you marry me?"

And Emma sank to her knees, smiling wider than he's ever seen, eyes clear and walls down and only joy shining through, whispering one word that warmed him more than any sun ever could:

"Yes."

❤️❤️❤️

tag list: @kmomof4 @jrob64 @justanother-unluckysoul @klynn-stormz @stahlop @ilovemesomekillianjones @hookmecaptain @tiganasummertree @jadehowlettthewolf @jonesfandomfanatic @anmylica @pirateprincessofpizza @stahlop @snowbellewells @eddisfargo @motherkatereloyshipper (and tagging the other angsty august folks!) @caught-in-the-filter @undercaffinatednightmare @the-darkdragonfly

#captain swan #captain swan fanfic #captain charming fanfic #cs fic #cs #angsty august #csangstyaugust22 #angst #but with a happy ending #killian jones #captain hook #emma swan #david nolan #charming #once upon a time #fanfiction #emma and killian #emma and hook #fanfic #cs ff

[ruyalarincadisi]

Not wanting to sleep because not being ready for another day then remembering i'm gonna play stardew with my fren tomorrow 💞❤💔💖💝💘💕💗

#gem talks #vent #but with a happy ending