His love is not soft. Is the type of love that comes from a Man who scaled from the bottom to the top. With blood in his hands and a sense of moral so grey it may as well be black.
His love is devotion. He is devoted to his work, he bleeds for it and like that, he would bleed for you.
He would go in one knee and swear over his body, over his liking for games and suffering, swear that you would never feel unloved, be sad, or have not enough food or money.
He may not truly feel it. But he would turn his heart raw into your hands. Put a blade to his neck and leave his life upon you.
He trusts you, or maybe he is obsess to have you. A chain to some sense of reality. Of life without violence and blood, even if its only when he is with you.
He kisses your fingers like you are his salvation, even if he knows he wont be save (and perphas does not want to). But he still lets himself cling into your embrace and fake being normal. A normal husband with a normal work and a normal life.
He wants your warm. Your heartbeat under his ear. He wants to listen to you breath besides him at night. Wants to meet your eyes from across any room.
He may as well have flashes of you when he knows you are not there.
He needs to hear your voice. A simple "mhm" wont do. He cant go a day with you not speaking to him. Is only there when his act may fail and his cruel nature come out.
Because he is chained to you, and you to him. You dont know just how deep his love, obsession, devotion, how deep these are. You claimed a Man, kissed a Man at the altar. But you actually gave your life and heart to a beast who sleeps besides you.
As starved for blood, he is starved for you. Needs you to be the contrast of his day. Needs you to hold him close, kiss him softly and laught at whatever he says (he knows he is not funny).
As dangerous as he presents himself, he turns into a simple husband with you. Who likes to have you on his lap or have his head on yours while you read or play with his hair.
He snores softly, and sleeps hugging you from behind. Never letting go of you. His mind may go into dark dreams, but he only needs to open one eye (he never wakes you up, years of training on how to be quiet) see you and get his mind back at ease.
If he has to kill thousands, leave a trail of blood behind. Friends, enemies, ex lovers, law, anyone and anything who dares take you from him. He is more that willing to do it.
Meanwhile, across town, the campaign rally was far bigger than anyone expected.
Banners stretched across massive metal frames, and the main stage was lit up like a celebration already in progress. Volunteers rushed back and forth, checking clipboards, adjusting microphone levels, and running thick black cables through the grass. Everything had to be perfect because it was his day.
Pulling up to the curb, you stepped out of the car. You smoothed down your outfit, your eyes scanning the crowd instinctively. People were excited. They were laughing, talking, and waiting for the Mayor's grand entrance. Nothing looked wrong on the surface, and yet, something felt entirely off. The air felt heavy, like the static before a thunderstorm.
“Ma’am?”
You turned. A security guard approached quickly. His earpiece was firmly in place, and his posture was stiff but polite.
“Yes?”
“Mrs. Generazzo?” he asked.
You nodded slowly, a faint knot forming in your stomach.
“Mayor’s request,” the guard said, gesturing toward the secure entrance. “We’re gonna take you backstage.”
A wave of relief flickered through you. “Oh! okay,” you said, offering a small smile. “Is he-”
“This way, please.” He didn’t let you finish the question. He didn’t answer at all.
That did not feel like Jerry’s usual team. Still, pushing your doubts aside, you followed him through the security gates.
The closer you got to the stage, the quieter it felt. It was not silent, but the sound of the crowd had been pressed down into something distant, hollow, and far too controlled. They walked through a narrow path between towering equipment cases and heavy black velvet curtains, your steps slowing without your meaning to.
Backstage, everything moved, but nothing flowed. Staff walked past you without making eye contact. Casual conversations cut off abruptly the moment you got too close. Even the industrial lighting felt wrong, blindingly bright in some corridors and completely dim in others.
Your stomach tightened. “…He’s back here?” you asked, glancing at the guard's profile.
“Yes, ma’am. He will be,” the guard replied.
Will be. Not is.
Before you could press further, a sudden movement caught your eye near the far end of the stage setup. A small, familiar figure was standing near a cluster of sound equipment. Your breath caught in your throat.
“…Luci?”
The little girl turned.
There she was. Lucia stood trembling, her stuffed bunny clutched tightly against her chest. Her posture was incredibly stiff, her small shoulders drawn in like she didn't know where it was safe to stand. But the moment her eyes found yours, her face lit up with pure terror and relief.
“Mommy!”
She ran forward. You dropped your bag without a second thought, crouching down just in time to catch your daughter as you collided. You wrapped your arms around the little girl instantly, pulling her close and pressing a fierce kiss into her hair.
“Hey—hey—” you whispered, holding her face for a second, scanning for any sign of injury. “What are you doing back here? I thought you were with your dad. Are you okay?”
“I’m okay,” Lucia said quickly. Too quickly. Her tiny hands were gripping the fabric of her bunny so tight that the seams looked ready to snap.
“Where’s your dad?”
Lucia hesitated, her eyes flicking briefly past your shoulder. “…He’s here. He’s...working.”
The answer felt entirely practiced, like a line she had been forced to memorize.
Following your daughter's gaze, you looked into the shadows of the backstage corridors. There were people moving in the dim light. Crew members. Staff. And then, something else entirely. Shapes low to the ground that did not quite move like humans. They were gone as quickly as you noticed them, melting back into the darkness.
You stood up slowly, keeping a firm, protective hand on Lucia’s shoulder.
“Ah! There you are.”
A smooth voice cut through the muffled roar of the crowd. At the far end of the backstage area, a figure stepped forward from behind the equipment cases.
Jerry.
Or, rather, what looked exactly like him. He had the perfect suit, the perfect posture, and the perfect smile. But something about the image failed to land right. His movements were just a fraction too measured, his expressions holding a second too long, like an actor carefully performing a role.
“Well,” he said smoothly, clasping his hands together. “This is a lovely surprise.”
Lucia stiffened violently under your hand, burying her face into your side.
“…Jerry?” you said, your voice cautious as you searched his face.
He stepped closer, his smile unblinking. “Of course. Who else would I be?”
The joke fell completely flat. You forced a small, strained smile anyway, your internal alarms blaring. “Your text was…weird.”
A flicker of something dark crossed his features, so fast you almost missed it. “Ah,” he said, waving it off casually. “Busy morning.”
That wasn’t an explanation. Jerry never dismissed you like that. Your eyes lingered on him, studying the details, and that was when the pieces stopped lining up entirely.
“…Where’s your tie?” you asked quietly. It slipped out before you could stop it.
He paused, his hands freezing for a fraction of a second. Then he smiled again. “Oh- uh, wardrobe adjustment. Trying something new.”
You frowned, your grip on Lucia tightening. “You picked that tie out this morning, Jerry. The purple one with the polka dots. You love that tie.”
Another brief pause. “Right,” he said, nodding once. “It didn’t photograph well.”
That made absolutely no sense. Jerry was meticulous about his wardrobe weeks in advance. As you stared at him, your gaze drifted down to his left hand.
It was completely empty.
“…Where’s your ring?” you whispered.
This time, the man posing as your husband did not answer right away. He looked down at his bare finger, as if he were noticing its absence for the very first time, before looking back up at you.
“Oh,” he said smoothly. “Had to take it off.”
“For what?”
“A precaution. Things can get…unpredictable in large crowds. Didn’t want to risk losing it.”
You stared at him, a cold dread washing over your skin. Jerry would lose sleep over misplacing his wedding band for five minutes. There was absolutely no way he would casually remove it and leave it behind.
Lucia’s small fingers curled tightly into your sleeve. “…Mommy,” she whispered, her voice barely audible.
“I know,” you murmured under your breath, keeping your eyes locked on the stranger.
He took a step closer, but you stood your ground, refusing to move toward him.
“Everything is under control,” he said, his tone too smooth, too certain. “And we’re exactly where we need to be.”
That same strange, mechanical weight slipped into his voice again, heavy and threatening, before vanishing just as fast.
“…Jerry,” you said carefully, your voice shaking despite yourself. “What’s going on?”
He tilted his head slightly, studying you like a specimen under a microscope. Then he smiled his perfect, empty smile. “You worry too much.”
It was almost something your husband would say. Almost. But not like that. Never with eyes that dead.
Lucia leaned in closer, pressing her entire weight against your legs. “Mommy…” she whimpered, the tears finally spilling over. “…that’s not Daddy.”
Your heart dropped into your stomach. You didn't respond because deep down, you already knew. You didn't say anything at first. You just looked at him, really looked at the counterfeit smile and the stolen posture.
“Take my hand,” Titus said, using Jerry's voice as he held out a palm, acting as if this was all part of the schedule.
You did not move. You stepped back, just one deliberate step, pulling Lucia behind you.
“No,” you said quietly.
Something in his expression broke. The perfect mayoral smile vanished, replaced by a cold, vacant stare. You did not wait for him to react. You turned on your heel, pulling Lucia with you.
“Come on-”
You did not know where you were going, just away from him. Your heels clicked against the floorboards faster and faster, your breathing picking up as you sprinted past heavy equipment and dark curtains, desperate for an exit.
“Ma’am-” a security voice called out from the dark. You ignored it. “Stop!-”
No. No, no, no.
You reached the edge of the backstage exit, the light of the outdoor rally visible just beyond the threshold, when a massive shadow dropped directly in front of you.
You froze. The shape in front of you wasn't walking like a man. It was lower, closer to the ground, moving with a horrific, sickening speed. You stumbled backward, gasping for air as you threw your arm out to shield Lucia.
“What!— What are you?!-”
The creature stood up slowly, its joints popping and shifting as it lengthened back into that familiar, tailored human shape, fixing the face until it looked like Jerry once more.
“You were leaving,” Titus said, completely dropping the polite charade. The voice belonged to Jerry, but the chilling, predatory tone belonged entirely to the Insect King.
“Stay back,” you commanded, your voice cracking as you tried to sound brave.
Titus tilted his head, almost impressed. “You noticed. Good. That makes this so much easier!”
He reached into his tailored jacket. You flinched, expecting a weapon, but he only pulled out a small, glinting object. He held it between his fingers, letting the bright stage lights catch the gold band.
Jerry’s wedding ring.
“You asked about this,” he said lightly.
Your chest tightened so hard you could barely breathe. “Where is he?” you demanded, your voice breaking.
Titus did not answer. Instead, he took a slow, deliberate step forward, cornering you against the equipment stacks. “If tonight goes well, you get him back.”
Your heart slammed violently against your ribs. “And if it doesn’t…”
He let the sentence hang in the air. He didn't need to finish it; your mind filled in the horrific blank space for him.
“No-” you whispered.
Titus crouched down slightly, bringing his stolen face right to your eye level. His movements were controlled, precise, and infinitely worse than outright aggression.
“You’re going to walk out there,” he said, nodding toward the brightly lit stage. “You’re going to smile. You’re going to stand beside me.”
You shook your head, tears blurring your vision. “I can’t-”
“You can,” he said softly.
Almost gently, he reached into his pocket again. He pulled out your husband’s smartphone. The screen lit up, displaying a lock-screen photograph taken just last year on Lucia’s birthday.
It was a candid moment, bright and bursting with color. Lucia was in the center, a bright pink birthday crown sitting crookedly on her head, her face covered in a messy smudge of chocolate frosting as she laughed mid-sentence. On one side of her, Jerry was grinning widely, his eyes crinkled with genuine, unscripted joy as he pointed at the cake. On the other side was you, leaning in with your arms wrapped tightly around them both, your smile matching theirs. It was a snapshot of pure, uncomplicated safety; a perfect portrait of a loving family.
Now, that beautiful memory was trapped beneath the glass, held in the steady hand of a monster.
“You have something I want,” Titus continued, his voice dropping into a low, absolute decree as his thumb casually brushed over the glowing image of your family. “And I have everything you care about.”
Before he could even finish the sentence, your hand flew out. Smack.
You swatted the phone directly out of his hand, sending it clattering across the concrete floor. Titus froze, his head snapping to the side from the sheer force of your movement. You stood over him, breathing heavily, your hands curled into tight fists.
“Get that out of my face,” you snarled, stepping between him and Lucia like a lioness.
Titus slowly turned his head back to you, his expression unblinking as he calmly knelt down, picked up the phone, and wiped a speck of dust off the screen.
He rose back to his full height, his eyes glinting with a twisted sort of amusement as he looked you up and down.
“My, my,” Titus purred, tapping the edge of the phone against his palm. “Aren't we feisty? I must admit...I completely see why the Mayor chose you. You certainly have a lot more backbone than he does.”
His smile widened, sharp and empty. “But let's see how much of that fire is left if you don't step out onto that stage.”
The threat was still there, but you had made it clear you wouldn't be pushed around without a fight.
Your breathing hitched. Lucia looked up at you, clutching her stuffed bunny like a lifeline. “…Mommy?”
You swallowed the lump of terror in your throat. Your hands lightly trembled, but you pulled your daughter tight against your side, your eyes narrowing at the impostor.
“Don’t touch her,” you said, your voice dropping into a low, fierce whisper.
Titus straightened back up to his full height, adjusting his cuffs. “I don’t have to. Not if you cooperate.”
The silence of the backstage area pressed in around you, heavy and suffocating, while the crowd out in the plaza roared in the distance. Thousands of people were cheering, completely unaware of the nightmare unfolding just behind the curtain.
You closed your eyes for half a second, taking one deep, steadying breath, and then opened them.
“…What do you want me to do?” you asked.
Titus smiled. It was that same perfect, practiced, terrifying campaign smile.
“Exactly what you always do,” he said, gesturing toward the blinding lights of the stage entrance. “Stand by your husband. Come on.”
Lucia’s small, shaking hand slid into yours. You squeezed it back, not because you were okay, but because you needed her to think you were. Holding each other tightly, with no real choice left, you turned away from the darkness and walked out into the light.
———————————————————————
A/N: This chapter took longer than expected because I had WAY too many ideas I wanted to add and kept trying to perfect everything with editing and whatnot. I was thinking of posting this one yesterday. Hopefully it was worth the wait :) Thank you guys for sticking around <3 Also for any confusion on the security guard I was thinking that since they were creating humans using Dr. Sam’s tech why not add an extra robot controlled by the council :)
Hello! May I request a severus snape x reader in which the reader defends him from Sirius during a meeting of the ootp. Like Sirius is pushing his buttons purposefully, bringing up that he is a slytherin or smth. Reader defends him with something like "Well Snape is a better man than any gryfinndor I've met". Also reader defended him from bullying during their Hogwarts days since they had a secret infatuation with him but he never knew until decades later? Idk this request is kinda all over the place lol do whatever you'd like with it love. Have a great day ♡♡
Shadows That Bind
Severus Snape x Reader
A/N: I hope y'all like it, I tried my best!
Masterlist
The air inside Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place, felt cold and old. It smelled like dust, damp stone, and old magic. Around the long wooden table sat the members of the Order of the Phoenix. They were all tired and worried — Lord Voldemort was getting strong again, and the danger was growing every day.
At the far end of the room, leaning against the fireplace, stood Severus Snape. He wore his usual black robes, and his dark hair fell over his face. To most people, he looked cold, mean, and hard to trust. But you knew better. You knew he was your husband.
It was not a secret to everyone here. Remus Lupin knew. Mad-Eye Moody knew. Tonks and the others who worked close to you both knew too. They had learned over the years that Severus was not as bad as people thought.
But Sirius Black did not know.
Sirius had been locked in Azkaban prison for twelve years. He had not seen or heard anything since the first war. To him, Severus was still just the boy he used to tease and call names at school. He had no idea you and Severus were married.
Tonight, Sirius was in a bad mood. He leaned back in his chair and stared hard at Severus.
“Let’s be honest,” Sirius said loudly. “We are all here to fight Voldemort. But why should we trust him? He is a Slytherin. Everyone knows Slytherins care only about themselves. That does not change just because time passes.”
Some people looked unsure. Remus shook his head.
“Sirius, please,” Remus said gently. “A lot has changed in twelve years. Severus has done good work for us.”
“Has he?” Sirius laughed. “Or is he just good at lying? I remember him at school. He was always sneaking around, reading dark books, making friends with the wrong people. Old habits never die — right, Snivellus?”
The name hit like a slap. It was the cruel name Sirius and James Potter used to call Severus when they wanted to hurt him.
Severus did not move much, but his jaw tightened. “If you have nothing useful to say, Black, be quiet. We have more important things to do than listen to your old school fights.”
That was when you stood up.
The sound of your chair scraping the floor made everyone look at you. Sirius raised an eyebrow, surprised.
“Enough,” you said. Your voice was calm but strong.
Sirius smiled a little. “And what is this? Are you going to defend him now? You don’t know him like we do.”
“I do know him,” you said. “I have known him longer than you have been out of prison. And I will not let you talk about him like that.”
“Like what?” Sirius asked. “Like someone who cannot be trusted?”
“You talk like being a Slytherin makes you a bad person,” you said. “You talk like the boy you knew sixteen years ago is still the same man today. But people change. They grow. They learn.”
“Some things never change,” Sirius said. “He was always interested in the Dark Arts. He was always alone, always angry —”
“Of course he was angry!” you said, your voice a little sharper now. “You and James Potter made his life hard! You called him names. You tripped him in the halls. You used magic to make him look silly in front of everyone. You did it just because you could, and because he was different.”
Sirius looked taken aback. “We did it to keep him from going bad!”
“No,” you said. “You did it because you were bored and thought you were better than everyone else. You made him feel like no one cared. And now you act like he is the bad one?”
As you spoke, you remembered the old days at Hogwarts.
Flashback: Third Year at Hogwarts
You first met Severus in the library. He was quiet, very smart, and always reading big books about potions. At first, you just said hello. Then you started talking about school work. Soon, you became friends.
It was a secret friendship. Everyone knew Sirius and James hated Severus. If they saw you talking to him, they would tease you too.
After a while, your friendship grew into something more. You liked him — really liked him. And he liked you too. But you had to keep it hidden.
“Please,” Severus said one night, when you were sitting in an empty classroom. “Do not tell anyone. If they know you care about me, they will hurt you too. I cannot let that happen.”
“I don’t care about them,” you said.
“But I do,” he said softly. “You are the only good thing I have here.”
Fast forward: Seventh Year at Hogwarts
One afternoon, you were walking to the library when you heard loud voices and laughing. You turned the corner and saw Severus standing with his back against the stone wall.
In front of him were James Potter and Sirius Black. They had their wands out, and they were smiling meanly. Remus stood a little way off, looking uncomfortable.
“Going to your dark little room, Snivellus?” James said. “Going to make more potions no one understands?”
“Leave me alone,” Severus said. He held his wand, but he did not fight back — he knew it was two against one.
“Or what?” Sirius laughed. “You’ll cry? You always were a weak little Slytherin —”
“Leave him alone!”
The words came out before you could stop them. You walked toward them, even though your heart was beating fast.
James and Sirius turned to look at you.
“This does not concern you,” James said. “Go away.”
“It concerns me when I see two people being bullies,” you said. “He has done nothing to you. Let him go.”
Sirius frowned. “You don’t know what he is like —”
“I know exactly what he is like,” you said. “I see him every day. I see him studying hard. I see him helping people when no one is looking. I see him being kind. What do I see in you? Two boys who use their magic to hurt others just for fun. That is not brave. That is cruel.”
James and Sirius looked at each other. They did not know what to say. After a moment, James put his wand down.
“Fine,” he said. “We will go. But you are making a mistake.”
They walked away. As soon as they were gone, Severus looked at you. His face was surprised.
“You should not have done that,” he said quietly. “They will bother you now too.”
“Let them,” you said. “I could not just stand there and watch.”
He looked at you for a long time. Then he said, “Thank you. No one has ever stood up for me like that.”
Back in the present, at Grimmauld Place
You looked at Sirius again.
“You still think you know everything about him,” you said. “But you were locked away for twelve years. You missed everything. You missed the war. You missed how he chose to help Dumbledore. You missed how he risked his life every single day, even when no one trusted him.”
Sirius crossed his arms. “He was a Death Eater once —”
“He made a mistake when he was young,” you said. “And he fixed it. He worked as a spy. He put himself in danger every minute to stop Voldemort. He did it even though everyone looked at him like he was a monster. He did it because it was the right thing to do.”
You took a deep breath and said the words you had kept inside for years...
“You call him selfish. You call him untrustworthy. But let me tell you this...Severus Snape is a better man than any Gryffindor I ever met at Hogwarts. He never hurt anyone just to be funny. He never thought he was better than others because of his name or his house. He did what was hard, even when no one thanked him.”
The room went very quiet. Everyone looked at Sirius. He looked confused and angry, but also unsure.
“You say that because you feel sorry for him,” Sirius said.
“No,” said a voice beside you.
It was Severus. He walked over and stood right next to you. The cold look on his face was gone. Instead, there was something soft and warm in his eyes — something only you usually saw.
He reached out and took your hand. He held it like it was the most natural thing in the world.
Sirius’s eyes went wide. He stared at your hands, then at Severus, then at you.
“What… what is this?” he asked, his voice low.
“This,” Severus said, “is my wife. We have been together since we were at school. We kept it secret for many years to keep her safe. Everyone else here knows. You are the only one who did not — because you were in Azkaban.”
Sirius could not believe it. “You married him? After everything?”
“After everything,” you said. “I married him because I know who he really is. Not the boy you remember, but the man he became. I know he is brave. I know he is loyal. And I know he loves me, and I love him.”
Severus looked at you and gave you a small, rare smile. “I never thought I deserved someone like you,” he said quietly. “But I am glad you are here.”
The rest of the meeting was quieter. No one spoke badly of Severus again. When it was over, everyone left — except Sirius. He stood by the door, looking at you both.
“I still do not like him,” Sirius said. “Too much happened. Too much was lost.”
Severus looked at him. “I do not expect you to like me. But I hope you can respect that we are on the same side now.”
Sirius looked at your joined hands one more time. Then he turned and walked out, cursing quietly.
When the room was empty, Severus turned to you. He touched your face gently.
“You did not have to say all that,” he said. “It was dangerous.”
“I had to,” you said. “I was tired of people only seeing the bad parts. I wanted them to see what I see.”
He pulled you close and held you. “Thank you,” he said. “For standing up for me then, and for standing up for me now.”
Outside, the war was still going on. There was still danger, and fear, and old hurt feelings. But for the first time in a long time, you did not have to hide. The truth was out — and it felt good.
Flashback: After Hogwarts
After you finished school, the war got worse. Severus had to leave to work as a spy. It was very hard. You could not see each other often. You wrote letters in secret, and you met only when it was safe.
After a few years, you got married. It was a small, quiet ceremony. Only Dumbledore and one other person were there. You wore simple clothes, and Severus did not even smile much — but when he looked at you, you knew he was happy.
Life at Hogwarts
When Severus became the Potions Master at Hogwarts, you moved into the castle too. You had a small room in the dungeons. It was dark and cold, but it was yours.
At school, Severus acted strict and mean to the students. But behind closed doors, he was different. He made you tea when you were tired. He listened when you had a bad day. He protected you from everything.
No one knew you were married. The students thought you were just another teacher. The Order thought you were just friends. It was safer that way. If Voldemort knew about you, he would use you to hurt Severus.
When Sirius escaped from Azkaban, everyone was shocked. You knew things would be hard. Sirius hated Severus, and he did not know the truth.
At first, you thought you would never tell him. But when he called Severus names and said such cruel things, you could not stay quiet anymore.
In the weeks after the meeting, things were different. Sirius did not stop disliking Severus, but he stopped saying mean things in front of everyone.
One day, they were both out on a mission. They were attacked by Death Eaters. Sirius was hurt, and Severus used his magic to save him. He did not do it for thanks — he did it because it was his job.
After that, Sirius thought a lot. He remembered what you said. He remembered how Severus had held your hand, and how he looked at you like you were the most important thing in the world.
Later, he talked to Remus.
“Is it true?” Sirius asked. “They have been married all this time?”
Remus nodded. “Yes. Dumbledore knew. He said it was the one thing that kept Severus going through all the hard years.”
Sirius was quiet. “I always thought he was just… angry. And alone.”
“He was,” Remus said. “But he was not alone. He had her. And that made all the difference.”
“Why didn’t anyone tell me? All this time — while I was in Azkaban, and even after I got out — why didn’t anyone say that they were married?” Sirius asked, furious because he's not aware.
“It wasn’t our secret to tell. And think about it — for years, it was too dangerous. If Voldemort or his followers had found out, they would have used her to hurt Severus. Even we only found out slowly, after we trusted him more.” Remus replied.
"But I’m on the same side! I’m part of the Order too!” Sirius exclaimed.
"You were locked away for twelve years, Sirius. You came back with all the old anger and hatred you had when you were young."Remus said quietly and looks at his best friend sternly. "Everyone was afraid that if you knew, you might say something you shouldn’t — or that you wouldn’t be able to keep it safe. They waited until they were sure you could handle it." Sirius remained silent, still couldn't believe that you and Severus are married.
A few months later, there was another meeting. This time, Sirius spoke first.
“I want to say something,” he said. “I still have a hard time forgetting the past. But I was wrong to call you names and say you could not be trusted. I did not know everything. And I am sorry.”
Severus looked at him. “We do not have to be friends,” he said. “But we can work together.”
Sirius nodded. “Yes. For Harry. For everyone.”
After the meeting, you and Severus walked back to your rooms. It was late, and the castle was quiet.
“You did not have to forgive him,” you said.
“I did not forgive him,” Severus said. “But I can let it go. I have something more important now.”
He took your hand and squeezed it. You walked together through the dark halls, no longer hiding. You had each other. And that was enough
A/N: I know it's so bad, I still hope y'all like it. I'll make it better next time! <3
Summary: Seven years ago, Aaron Hotchner’s wife disappeared overseas without a trace.
For seven years, Aaron Hotchner lived with a ghost.
Not the kind that haunted old houses or appeared in dark corners. No, his ghost wore a wedding ring, had a laugh he could still hear in his dreams, and a smile he remembered with painful clarity.
His ghost had a name.
His wife.
Seven years ago, she had vanished overseas during what was supposed to be a simple humanitarian assignment. One day there were emails, phone calls, promises that she’d be home soon.
The next day there was silence.
No body.
No ransom demand.
No proof of life.
Nothing.
Just an empty space beside him in bed and a hundred unanswered questions.
The BAU had searched.
Aaron had searched harder.
Governments became involved. International agencies were contacted. Missing persons units spent months chasing dead ends. Every lead eventually crumbled into dust.
Eventually the case went cold.
The world moved on.
Aaron never did.
Because unlike everyone else, he refused to believe she was dead.
The team knew Aaron carried old scars.
They knew he’d lost people.
They knew there were parts of his life he never discussed.
What they didn’t know was that Aaron Hotchner had been married.
Still was, technically.
The ring never left his finger.
Most people simply assumed it was habit.
Nobody ever asked.
And Aaron never told them.
Because talking about her made the loss real.
Because admitting she was gone felt too close to giving up.
So he kept her hidden away like a fragile secret.
Until the day everything changed.
⸻
The call came at 2:17 in the morning.
Aaron had been reviewing reports at his dining room table when his private phone rang.
Almost nobody had that number.
His pulse immediately spiked.
“Aaron Hotchner.”
For several seconds there was only static.
Then a voice.
Male.
Older.
Foreign accent.
“Mr. Hotchner?”
Aaron was already standing.
“Who is this?”
“I believe we have information regarding your wife.”
The world stopped.
Every muscle in his body locked.
His heart slammed painfully against his ribs.
For seven years he’d imagined hearing those words.
For seven years they’d never come.
And now suddenly—
Now they were real.
Aaron gripped the edge of the table.
“What did you say?”
“We believe your wife was seen approximately three weeks ago.”
The phone nearly slipped from his fingers.
“No.”
The word escaped before he could stop it.
Not because he didn’t believe them.
Because he was terrified to.
“Who are you?” he demanded.
The man identified himself as an investigator working with an international organization.
Then he spoke a sentence Aaron would remember for the rest of his life.
“We have photographs.”
⸻
Thirty minutes later Aaron was standing inside the BAU conference room.
Everyone stared.
It wasn’t unusual for Hotch to call meetings.
It was unusual for him to look like this.
Pale.
Shaken.
Desperate.
Morgan was the first to speak.
“Hotch?”
Aaron placed a file onto the table.
Nobody moved.
Nobody spoke.
Then he opened it.
Photographs slid across the polished surface.
Emily picked one up first.
A woman.
Thin.
Exhausted.
Standing outside a marketplace somewhere overseas.
Long hair.
Tired eyes.
Wearing clothes several sizes too large.
But undeniably alive.
Emily frowned.
“Who’s this?”
Aaron’s throat tightened.
For a moment he couldn’t answer.
Then finally—
“My wife.”
Silence.
Absolute silence.
The entire room froze.
Reid blinked.
JJ’s mouth fell open.
Morgan stared.
“What?”
Aaron looked down at the photograph.
The edges had already become worn from how tightly he’d been holding it.
“My wife.”
Nobody knew what to say.
Because in all their years together, Aaron Hotchner had never once mentioned having a wife.
Not once.
“You were married?” Rossi finally asked.
Aaron’s jaw tightened.
“I am married.”
The distinction hit everyone immediately.
Present tense.
Not was.
Am.
Emily slowly lowered the photo.
“What happened?”
And for the first time in seven years, Aaron told the story.
⸻
The room remained silent as Aaron spoke.
He explained how they’d met.
How she’d challenged him from the beginning.
How she’d never cared about his title or position.
How she made him laugh.
How she made difficult days easier.
How she’d become his best friend before she became his wife.
The team listened carefully.
Listening to their stoic unit chief describe someone with so much love felt almost surreal.
Then his voice changed.
The warmth disappeared.
Seven years ago she’d traveled overseas to assist with humanitarian efforts.
Communication remained normal for months.
Then suddenly everything stopped.
Her vehicle was discovered abandoned.
Several people disappeared alongside her.
No witnesses.
No suspects.
Nothing.
Just gone.
Aaron had spent years chasing every lead imaginable.
Every report.
Every sighting.
Every rumor.
And every single one ended the same way.
Failure.
Until now.
When he finished speaking, nobody moved.
Because suddenly so many things made sense.
The loneliness.
The walls.
The grief hidden behind his eyes.
He hadn’t simply been private.
He’d been mourning.
For seven years.
Alone.
“We’re going,” Morgan said.
Aaron looked up.
Morgan leaned forward.
“We’re finding her.”
One by one everyone nodded.
Even before Aaron officially requested assistance.
They were already in.
Because that’s what family did.
⸻
The flight felt endless.
Aaron didn’t sleep.
Couldn’t sleep.
Every time he closed his eyes he imagined arriving too late.
Imagined discovering the photographs were old.
Imagined another dead end.
Another disappointment.
Another seven years.
Beside him, Rossi quietly watched.
Eventually he spoke.
“You okay?”
Aaron laughed once.
A hollow sound.
“No.”
Rossi nodded.
Fair answer.
After a moment he placed a hand on Aaron’s shoulder.
“We’ll find her.”
Aaron wanted to believe that.
God, he wanted to.
But hope had hurt him before.
Hope had shattered him repeatedly.
So instead he stared out the window and waited.
⸻
The investigation moved quickly.
Witnesses confirmed sightings.
Locations were narrowed.
Patterns emerged.
For the first time in years they weren’t chasing rumors.
They were following evidence.
Real evidence.
Every lead brought them closer.
Every confirmation tightened the knot in Aaron’s chest.
Because the possibility was becoming reality.
She was alive.
She had actually survived.
Seven years.
Seven years alone.
Seven years without him.
Without home.
Without anyone looking after her.
The thought made him sick.
And then came the breakthrough.
A witness.
Reliable.
Recent.
Less than forty-eight hours old.
Aaron barely heard the details before he was moving.
The team followed.
Vehicles sped through crowded streets.
Radio chatter filled the air.
Aaron’s heart hammered harder with every passing second.
Please.
Please let it be her.
⸻
The building was old.
Run-down.
Hidden away from the rest of the city.
Officers secured exits.
Agents spread out.
Aaron entered first.
His weapon remained lowered.
His breathing felt impossible.
Every room they cleared was empty.
Every hallway stretched endlessly.
Then—
Movement.
Someone at the far end.
A figure disappearing through a doorway.
Aaron ran.
The team shouted behind him.
He ignored them.
For seven years he’d waited.
He wasn’t waiting another second.
He reached the room.
Stopped.
And forgot how to breathe.
A woman stood near a broken window.
Thin.
Fragile.
Older.
But unmistakably her.
For several seconds neither moved.
Neither spoke.
The world simply ceased to exist.
Aaron felt tears sting his eyes.
She stared at him like she wasn’t sure he was real.
Like he might disappear if she blinked.
“Aaron?”
Her voice cracked.
Seven years vanished instantly.
Aaron crossed the room.
Fast.
Then faster.
And suddenly she was in his arms.
Alive.
Actually alive.
He held her so tightly he was afraid he’d hurt her.
She buried her face against his shoulder and broke.
Years of pain.
Years of fear.
Years of loneliness.
Everything came crashing down at once.
Aaron felt his own tears fall.
Didn’t care.
For the first time in seven years, he allowed himself to stop being strong.
“Ah! It’s over! We’re doomed! We’re doomed!” Jerry’s voice rose to a frantic pitch, his undershirt was wrinkled, as he strained against the unyielding cable cords. Every desperate thrash only seemed to tighten the electronic grip of the lab's equipment. He snapped his head toward the girl, his face flushed with a mix of panic and indignation. “I hope you're happy, Mabel. The animals got us, my wife is in danger, and my daughter got taken as hostage and it's all your fault!”
He waited for a retort, a sarcastic comeback, or even a defense. Instead, there was only the low hum of the laboratory monitors. The silence was heavy, thick with a weight he didn’t understand.
“Hey, I'm talking to you,” he muttered, lowering his voice as the anger gave way to a creeping unease. He shifted his weight, trying to catch her eye. “Why...why are you so quiet? You're freaking me out!”
Mabel remained motionless, her gaze fixed on something Jerry couldn't see.
“Uh, Mabel?” He called to her again, the sharp edges of his voice softening into genuine concern.
“I did use him. I did lie to him,” Mabel finally whispered, the words sounding like a confession she had been holding back for an eternity.
Jerry blinked, his brow furrowing in confusion. “Who? The beaver in the crown?”
“He was my friend,” Mabel said, her voice dropping into a solemn, hollow tone.
“Friend? They're all just animals. Animals!” Jerry’s stress finally boiled over, the pent-up terror for his family manifesting as a harsh, jagged outburst. “And now they're trying to squish us or whatever, and you don't even care! Ugh, what is wrong with you!? You did this. You riled up those animals. Now they're all angry. Mabel?!”
He took a ragged breath, the image of his wife and Lucia flashing through his mind. The guilt of his words pricked at him, but the adrenaline was too high to stop. “Unreal! Unbelievable! You've got a problem, kid. You know that? You are just the absolute worst. I can't believe that I'm stuck here with you.”
“Jerry. Jerry!”
“What?!” He snapped, finally locking eyes with her.
“It's…it's hard to be mad when...you feel like you're part of something big,” she said softly, her expression shifting from grief to a strange, newfound clarity.
“But what are we a part of?”
Mabel didn't answer immediately. Her eyes drifted to the nearby beaver prototype, focusing on the small, distinct handprint George had left on its chest.
“Everything,” she said, her voice gathering strength. “We're all in this together.” She looked over at Jerry, her gaze softening with genuine remorse. “Jerry...I’m so sorry. I never meant for Lucia to get caught up in Titus’ plans. I was so focused on—on saving the glade—that I didn't see the danger I was putting her in. It’s my fault she’s in this mess.”
Jerry went still, his anger finally draining away to reveal the raw, aching guilt beneath. He looked down at his knees, avoiding her eyes. “No, Mabel,” he sighed, his shoulders slumping. “It’s on me too. I should’ve been honest with her. I should’ve been honest with my wife. If I hadn't been so busy playing the ‘perfect mayor’ and just talked to my family...maybe we wouldn't be here. I kept them in the dark to protect my image—and look where that got us.”
He looked back up at her, a weary but mutual understanding passing between them.
“Hey,” Mabel said with a small, encouraging nod. “We can get out of this—all of this—if we just work with each other.”
Jerry stared down at the cables tying him. He gave a sharp, frustrated tug, shifting his weight in his undershirt and boxers, but to no avail. “How?” he asked, staring at Mabel with a vexed expression.
Mabel slowly shifted her gaze toward the massive head device. Jerry followed her eyes, then stared at her like she was demented.
“Stick your head in there,” she stated, pointing her leg at the device.
“What?! No, no, no, no! I'm not getting in that thing!” He recoiled as much as the cords would allow, gesturing wildly at the mechanical beaver. Mabel simply leveled him with a knowing, steady look. Jerry met it with a flat, "not amused" expression.
The two of them paused, a familiar, stubborn tension crackling between them before the inevitable bickering began.
“Put on the helmet, Jerry! There are people to save! They're your voters! Save them, Jerry!”
“It’s not safe! What if my head catches on fire?! Also, I’m afraid, okay! I'm a coward! The mayor can't just stick his head in stuff!”
Mabel didn't let up. She knew exactly which buttons to press, her voice rising to cut through his excuses. “Think about Lucia, Jerry! Think about your wife! They don’t have time for you to be a coward!”
The mention of his girls acted like a physical jolt. Jerry’s protests died in his throat. His jaw set, and though his hands were still shaking, the panic in his eyes was replaced by a grim, fatherly resolve.
“One, two, three!” Mabel counted.
“Fine!” Jerry barked. He lunged forward, thrusting his head into the device. The machinery hissed, the metal plates sliding shut and locking onto him with a series of heavy, pressurized clicks.
“Uh, okay. Am I supposed to...what was it like when you...uh-”
The computer terminal behind them erupted into life. Data streamed across the monitors at a blinding speed—66%... 85%... 100%. Jerry’s human body went limp as his consciousness was vacuumed out and fired into the prototype.
“Uhh, Jerry?” Mabel asked tentatively.
“Oh!” The prototype let out a high-pitched, mechanical squeak. The robot's limbs locked up, causing it to T-pose momentarily before gravity took over, sending the metal beaver face-planting onto the concrete floor with a light resonant clang.
“Oh! Okay, careful, Jerry,” Mabel cautioned as the robot scrambled to its feet, limbs whirring and clicking. Jerry struggled to find his center of gravity, wobbling dangerously. “Watch out for the-”
He careened into a stack of equipment, knocking over a bucket that landed perfectly over his head. He rolled blindly toward Mabel like a runaway bowling ball.
“Oops.”
With a determined shake, Jerry managed to buck the bucket off. He scurried toward the cables binding Mabel, his new serrated beaver teeth making short work of the heavy insulation.
“Jerry, you did it!” Mabel cried, shrugging off the severed cords. Jerry responded with an enthusiastic, albeit unintelligible, squeak. Mabel quickly grabbed a discarded earpiece, fitting it snugly over her ear to bridge the communication gap.
“Mabel? Mabel!”
She turned around and couldn't help but stifle a laugh. Standing before her was a robotic beaver that somehow managed to look exactly like the Mayor, complete with a perfectly sculpted, perfect pompadour.
“So, what's the plan?”
“We're gonna give the Insect King the chance to do the right thing,” Mabel said, her eyes bright with a risky hope.
“What? Why?” Jerry asked, waddling toward her but maintaining a cautious distance, still getting used to being in a beaver body.
“Because everyone's good deep down.”
Jerry stopped, placing a tiny robotic paw on his hip in a gesture that was purely, hilariously human. “Mabel, you know that's not true.”
“Wouldn't you like it to be?” she asked softly.
Jerry paused, his mechanical ears twitching. He looked away, a sheepish, almost vulnerable expression flickering across his painted-on features.
“Just so we're clear,” he added, puffing out his furry chest, “if this works, I'm still gonna build the Beltway.”
“And I'm still gonna fight it,” Mabel countered with a smirk. “But today, we've got more important things to do. Now, stay in that beaver body. I've got an idea.”
“So do I,” Jerry said.
With a flourish of his paws, he produced a purple necktie dotted with lavender polka dots, the same one he had been wearing moments before and fastened it around his thick, furry neck. Without a shirt collar, the tie sat directly against his fur, making him look like a surreal, official mascot. He flashed a wide, toothy grin that practically screamed, "Yeah, I nailed it."
“…Really?” she said.
He lifted his chin slightly.
“What? It’s important to look official.”
———————————————————————
A/N: Sorry for the long wait, everyone! I know it’s been a while, but I really appreciate anyone who’s still here reading 🫶 This story means a lot to me, and I wanted to give this chapter the attention it deserved instead of rushing it.
A/N: Writing before going to sleep has become my therapy at this point…
Word count: 1.09k+
Warning: unhinged sayings (All for fun, do NOT take this seriously), explicit words, marital humour
Pairing: (DI) Chris Redfield x FemWife!Reader.
Note: You are pregnant with your first child.
Synopsis: While Chris just wanted to stay in shape because of his job, you couldn’t help but marvel at the sight of his muscular arms.
The day blended in as well as the previous ones, the sun would come up, stay for a couple hours and then go back to rest and repeat each day.
The warm weather and conditions had given Chris the excuse to start getting more active during his days off.
On your end, you were still trying to get from one place to another through the mundane house. Not like you were lazy or anything (...ahem…!) just carrying some precious cargo for a few months.
Since getting pregnant, you would notice how much more gentle and protective your husband was of you. He was always gentle with you, but now he treated you as if you’d break in his hold if he tensed even just a little bit.
Even more so when in public, to which he states he’d much rather have you in bed while he deals with whatever outdoor chore you need to finish.
For example, you had needed to get extra groceries for the week and, of course, Chris accompanied you, he wasn’t just going to let his pregnant wife go all alone.
He acted like a bodyguard the whole time while you were just picking the right vegetables and fruits.
The poor people who accidentally glanced your way were met with his piercing stare, making them scurry off.
So, yes, he’s overprotective…maybe a bit too much…
Also, there’s a significant development in his presence as well, as he started working out more, his stature and persona had changed drastically.
“I just want to be able to carry you both without breaking a sweat.” Was what he said simply once when you asked him why he was working so hard to keep in shape when he was on leave.
Regardless of your interjections of saying that he’s already plenty fit and healthy, he still shrugged, “No harm in getting more work done. If it’ll benefit you and our baby, I don’t mind.” When he said that, you just stood there baffled while blinking rapidly.
Leaving that conversation behind that day, you simply let him do what he pleased since he seemed quite determined.
It was almost obviously imminent that anyone would see a change in Chris’ appearance, but you were blessed to see that type of change up close.
“Honey, I made that protein shake you always drink—”
One day, during a lazy morning, you decided to make your husband’s drink he always consumes post workout. And the rest was history…
You stopped dead in your tracks, halting in the doorway of the indoor gym when seeing a magnificent view of muscles flexing before your eyes.
Chris was merely doing bicep curls, at least holding heavy weights that are double the usual load a normal person would.
All he wore was a simple dark T-shirt that matched his black shorts and indoor shoes.
But none of that mattered to you, what caught your attention immediately was his already big arms flexing at each rep.
You paid attention to every detail.
The way the veins would be subtly visible before showing themselves whenever his muscles activated…the droplets of sweat glistening down his skin…the way the said muscles expanded, stretching the elasticity of the shirt’s sleeve…
“I guess it is my lucky day…” you whispered to yourself, trapped in a daze.
After a few more reps, Chris placed the dumbbells back on the rack with a rough grunt, he finally noticed your figure standing in the doorway.
“I didn’t notice you,” he smiled your way before looking at your hand, “Oh. My drink. How kind of you, honey.”
The man walked over to you after drying the sweat off his forehead, taking the drink out of your hand.
“You didn’t have to, but thanks.” he thanked you, leaning down to kiss your temple.
Noticing your silence he stopped mid-sip, “You okay?”
“Uh-huh…perfectly fine,” you nodded almost instantly, still staring at his biceps.
Chris immediately took detail in your apparent staring, and an amused look appeared on his face.
He purposefully cleared his throat loudly to try to divert your attention back to his face. (Yeah…fat chance…)
“Is there anything you’d like to say to me?” He asked with a small laugh, finding the idea of his wife completely fixated on his muscles quite funny and endearing.
You kept your gaze fixed on his muscles. Replying to him without even thinking, “Mhm…” Clearly not paying attention.
This further made your spouse laugh lightly, “Hello? Earth to my wife?” He waved a hand in front of your face.
“H-Huh…? What?” You blinked, suddenly out of your spell.
“You were staring.” He simply noted, “Never knew you were an observer.” Chris teased lightly.
You felt your cheeks heat up a little, “W-What? No. They were in the way when I was looking at your face.”
He tilted his head, challenging your reasoning, “Huh…? Maybe you’re right.”
“Exactly. I AM right.” You confirmed, trying to keep the rest of your dignity alive.
Chris let out a small snort, “Right…Like you’re not currently eyeing me at the moment,” he trailed on, purposefully crossing his arms to make his arms look bigger.
You were clearly staring, mesmerized by the sight, “Thank goodness I’m already pregnant…” you whispered.
“Pardon?” He raised an eyebrow with a low smirk.
“Nothing! Just drink your beverage and take a shower,” You quickly replied before he could, averting your eyes to a nearby wall.
“Yes ma’am,” that deep voice of his will probably someday kill you before anything else.
Your eyes diverted back to his muscles as he busied himself with downing the smoothie in a few seconds.
“I can see and feel you staring,” he called you out, getting you to flinch while letting out a small squeak at being caught.
Chris looked down at you with a teasing glint in his eyes, “You’re horrible with keeping a poker face, hun’.” He leaned down to meet your gaze.
“J-Just go take your damn shower already!” You repeated, taking his used towel around his shoulders and shoved it in his face before making a run for it.
The man was taken aback but let out a chuckle before jogging after you, “If you admit to staring, I can let you join me in my shower!” He called out after her.
“STAY BACK! AND I WAS NOT STARING!”
“Sure you were…But, hey, I understand. Come on, I’ll give you the VIP treatment!”
“Chris! I swear—”
“I can start flexing all the time if you want. Maybe even join those muscle contests—”
Dark Male! Charlotte La Bouff x childhood friend Reader x Slightly Male! Tiana
The night you first told Tiano you'd love him till the river ran backward, except you didn't say it like that, because you were eight years old and what you actually said was:
"I'm gonna marry the best man in all New Orleans."
And Tiano, ten and already too serious for his britches, didn't even look up from the pot he was stirring on his mama's stove, just a little kitchen stool dragged over so he could reach.
"Then you best learn to like waitin'," he stated. "On account of the best cook in New Orleans ain't gonna have time for foolishness."
"It ain't foolishness." You'd stomped your foot. "It's a wish."
"Wishin' on stars." He'd shaken his head, ladling a taste, blowing on it, frowning the way his daddy frowned.
"My daddy says you can wish all you want, but you gotta dig in an' do the work too. Here." And he had held the spoon out across the little kitchen, steam curling up between you.
"Tell me what it needs."
You'd tasted it. Gumbo, thin and over-salted and the best thing your tongue ever met.
"It's perfect," you breathed.
And Tiano had smiled, that rare, slow, hard-won smile that you had spend the rest of your life chasing like a fool chases the morning star.
"Naw," he said. "But it's gettin' there."
⭒────𓆏𓆏𓆏────⭒
Twenty years didn't change Tiano much. He got taller, got two jobs and dreams of a third, and has a restaurant of his own, a sign with his mama's name on it, a place where the whole world could come sit down and be fed.
What twenty years did change was you, because the went and turned itself into something that kept you up nights.
You only ever told one living soul.
"Tiano?" Charlie La Bouff near about dropped his teacup, while his golden curls bounced، a laugh that could rattle the chandeliers clear across the parish escaped his lips.
"Sugar, you been holdin' out on me! Oh, this is just the most romantic thing I ever heard, and I have heard plenty, on account of I read three romance novels a week!"
"Hush, Charlie, somebody'll hear you." You'd twisted your handkerchief into a knot. "I need a favor. A real one. You're his friend, he trusts you. I want you to put in a good word. Tell him how I feel. I can't get the words out my own mouth, I just go all to pieces."
And for one half of one heartbeat, Charlie La Bouff went quiet for a while.
You should have seen it. Lord, you should have seen it, the way his eyes went cold and thoughtful, the way a card sharp looks at a hand he means to win. But then the sunshine came pouring right back into his face and he clasped both your hands in his.
"Why, of course I will." He squeezed. "You leave it all to Charlie. We are gonna get you your heart's desire, and that is a promise. Cross my heart and hope to wear last season's gloves."
You laughed as you believed him.
That was your first mistake. And surely It was not your last.
⭒────𓆏𓆏𓆏────⭒
Charlie came back two days later with a face full of trouble he was pretending to be sorry about.
"Oh, sugar." He sat you down. He took your hands again Charlie was forever taking your hands. "I talked to him. I did. And I want you to be brave now, you hear?"
Your stomach dropped clean through the floorboards.
"What'd he say?"
"He said..." Charlie sighed, big and theatrical, dabbing at a dry eye. "He said he cares for you. Awful much. As a friend. Said you two been pals since you were knee-high and he just can't see it any other way, and he'd hate to lose you over it." He patted your knee.
"He's married to that kitchen, darlin'. You said so your own self when you were children. Some men just don't have room*."
It was so close to true that it cut clean to the bone. You'd heard Tiano say it, 'the best cook in New Orleans ain't gonna have time for foolishness' and here was the proof, twenty years come due.
"But!" Charlie brightened, snapping his fan open. "I have got just the thing to mend a broken heart, and her name is Naveen."
"Charlie —"
"Princess Naveen of Maldonia! Visitin' for the whole season, and oh, she is a vision, all dark eyes and that accent that goes right through you. My daddy's throwin' a masquerade and you are going, you are gonna speak with her and dance with me, you are gonna forget all about kitchens and good words and feelin' sorry for yourself." He hauled you up by both hands.
"Trust Charlie. Charlie always knows best about love."
"You don't think I oughta just talk to Tiano myself? Just to be sure."
"And humiliate the poor man twice?" Charlie pressed a hand to his chest, scandalized. "After he was so gentle about it? Sugar, no. That's cruel. You wouldn't want to be cruel, would you?"
"...No."
"Course you wouldn't. You've got too good a heart." He smiled. "Now let's go find you a dress."
So you never asked Tiano. Charlie made sure of it, at every supper, every dance, every time you so much as drifted toward the kitchen door, there was Charlie, pink and persistent, hooking your arm and steering you off toward him.
⭒────𓆏𓆏𓆏────⭒
Princess Naveen was everything Charlie promised and the worst luck you ever had, because she was wonderful, and that made it impossible to hate her.
She swept into New Orleans on a cloud of trouble, there was a story there, something about a spell and a swamp and a kiss that went sideways, too strange to repeat in polite company, and by the end of it all, she had hung her whole golden heart on a working man with flour on his apron.
"You know what I like about him?" she'd told the whole party at the wedding, lazy and radiant, lifting her glass toward Tiano.
"He does not want anything from me. Everybody wants something from a princess. Tiano, he just wants to feed people. To build the thing he dreamed. I have done many foolish things in my life," and her voice had gone soft, "But loving this man is the only one I would do again, and again, a thousand times again."
And Tiano, your Tiano, had looked at her like she was the last star left in the sky.
You stood in the back of the church in the dress you had sewn yourself, and you clapped till your hands stung, while you smiled so hard your face ached, and not one living soul knew that you were dying.
Charlie found you afterward, by the punch bowl. He pressed a glass into your hand.
"Don't you fret now, sugar," he murmured, and there was something almost tender in it. "Some folks just aren't meant for each other. But you've always got me."
You told yourself that was kindness.
It wasn't.
It was just a down payment.
⭒────𓆏𓆏𓆏────⭒
Grief is patient. And so was Charlie.
He was there with flowers and that big laugh that filled a room so full there wasn't space left over for sorrow. His daddy, Big Daddy La Bouff, wept happy tears.
The whole city threw a party that lasted three days. You wore white and told yourself this was a fine kind of love, a comfortable kind, the kind a sensible person ought to be grateful for.
"You won't regret it!" Big Daddy had sobbed, hugging you till your ribs creaked. "Charlie's been sweet on you years. Years! Couldn't make that boy so much as glance at another soul!"
Indeed, Charlie was a wonderful husband for two whole years.
He had brought you many gifts, expensive jewelry, fine dresses, and even handmade crafts bearing both your names, fashioned for memory.
Never once had you felt bored in his company, for he was a boundless thing, restless and bright with energy.
But, at the same time, you had not noticed the ugly glares he cast at any man who drew too close, nor how he would humiliate those same men before a crowd, dragging their pasts into the open air like weapons.
At least he had never struck you, never treated you the way most men treated their wives in that era.
⭒────𓆏𓆏𓆏────⭒
Yet Charlie's lies, unfortunately for him, didn't last.
You learned it on an ordinary Tuesday, at Tiano's Palace, the restaurant Tiano finally built, named for a fool nickname Naveen had given him that he'd never had the heart to scrape off the sign.
You'd come to fetch Charlie, who was holding court at the best table. Tiano caught your elbow by the kitchen door, wiping his hands on his apron, that old, old gesture, and your fool heart did its old, old thing.
"Can I ask you somethin'?" His brow was furrowed. "Been eatin' at me a long while. Years, if I'm honest, an' I don't say things twice so listen good." He lowered his voice.
"Back before the princess. Before any of it. You an' me, we were close as anything. An' then one day Charlie come to me, said you'd told him plain you only saw me as a friend. That I oughta quit moonin' an' leave you be." His eyes look into yours.
"Was that true? You ever say that?"
"He told you what?" Your voice cracked in shock.
"Tiano...I went to Charlie. I asked him to match us. To tell you how I felt, 'cause I couldn't get the words out myself. He came back an' said you didn't want me. As a friend, he said. Just a friend."
"He told me you wanted nothin' to do with me," you exclaimed. "And he told you I only wanted a friend. Same lie, just turned 'round backward, so we'd never go lookin' at each other again."
"Aw, hell," Tiano said softly, as he pressed the heel of his hand to his eyes. "He's the one steered me at Naveen. Told me she is my true love, and assured me I'd be a fool to say no." A bitter breath left the young man.
"An' I believed him. Figured you'd already turned me down, so what was the harm? I named my whole restaurant off a joke that woman made, 'cause I couldn't stand to name it the thing I wanted to."
You couldn't breathe. "Which was?"
Tiano didn't answer, because he didn't have to. He just looked at you twenty years of it sitting in his eyes, and that was answer enough to break a body in two.
"He did it on purpose," you said, and the fury came up your spine like floodwater. "I handed him my whole heart an' asked him to carry it 'cross the room, an' he threw it in the river. Then he stood there two more years catchin' the pieces."
"Then I reckon," Tiano said, low and steady and principled as bedrock, "you got somethin' to say to your husband."
⭒────𓆏𓆏𓆏────⭒
You came home to be met with the sight of your husband peeling an orange in the big parlor, humming to himself like a man without one care in all the world.
"You ruined it," You snapped "I asked you to match me with Tiano. I trusted you with the realest thing I ever felt. An' you went an' told him I only wanted a friend, an' you told me he said the same, then you shoved him at Naveen so there'd be no chance left at all. You did it all. From the very first day."
Charlie did not look up from his orange.
"Mm," he said. "Took you long enough, sugar."
The whole room dropped cold.
"I want a divorce, Charlie."
He finally looked at you.
And the strangest thing happened to his face. The sunshine drained right out of it, not into anger, that would've been a mercy. But into something worse.
"Now, sugar." He set the silver knife down with a soft little click sound. "You don't mean that. You're upset, an' that's all right, I forgive you. Lord knows I've had practice." He rose, unhurried, and crossed the floor.
"You wanna know the funny thing? You came to me. You did. Walked right up an' asked me to hand you over to another man. An' I thought, well, now. Why would I go an' do a foolish thing like that?"
"Perhaps because I asked you to do so!"
"You asked me to give you away!" The laugh came, but cold now, nothing like the chandelier-rattler you'd loved.
"An' I am not in the habit of givin' away things I want, sugar. Never have been. Ask my daddy. I see a thing I like, I get it, an' I do not share."
"You stole my whole life."
"I cleared the table for myself!" He spread his hands, elegant, reasonable, monstrous in his reasonableness.
"Tiano would've made you second to a soup pot, I just made sure he never came knockin', an' I steered him off at that princess so he'd be good an' married to clean out the way."
He took your face in both hands, gentle as anything, and you felt the gentleness for the cage it was.
"An' I would do every lick of it again. Twice."
"Let go of me."
"You're not listenin'." Soft and smiling as his thumb tracing your cheek, his eyes not blinking once.
"There ain't a lawyer in this parish my daddy don't own. There ain't a door in all New Orleans I won't have locked 'fore you reach it. You go on an' ask me for your divorce, sugar. Ask me a hundred times. I will smile, an' I will say no," He leaned in close, and the whisper that came out was the truest thing he'd said in years.
"I waited half my life to have you to myself. You really think I'd let a little thing like the truth take you off me now?"
At that moment you remember what he said to you, after the wedding.
'You wished on a star,' Charlie had reminded you on your wedding night, 'and look, here I am.'
It made you realise that the moment Charlie eavesdropped on you both, is the moment that sealed your fate.
The second the words left her mouth, Robby just stared at her for a moment like his brain had completely stopped working. “You’re pregnant?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
When she nodded, his eyes immediately filled with tears. He laughed, cried, and pulled her into the tightest hug she’d ever received, nearly lifting her off the ground.
“Are you serious?” he kept asking between kisses to her forehead. “We’re having a baby?”
For the rest of the day, Robby couldn’t stop smiling. He had one hand on her stomach every chance he got, already talking to the baby like they could hear him. He was excited, nervous, and completely in love with the tiny life they hadn’t even met yet.
