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freeleyenrashespeakstruth · 1 year

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By Kitty Werthmann

“I am a witness to history.

“I cannot tell you that Hitler took Austria by tanks and guns; it would distort history.

If you remember the plot of the Sound of Music, the Von Trapp family escaped over the Alps rather than submit to the Nazis. Kitty wasn’t so lucky. Her family chose to stay in her native Austria. She was 10 years old, but bright and aware. And she was watching.

“We elected him by a landslide – 98 percent of the vote,” she recalls.

She wasn’t old enough to vote in 1938 – approaching her 11th birthday. But she remembers.

“Everyone thinks that Hitler just rolled in with his tanks and took Austria by force.”

No so.

Hitler is welcomed to Austria

“In 1938, Austria was in deep Depression. Nearly one-third of our workforce was unemployed. We had 25 percent inflation and 25 percent bank loan interest rates.

Farmers and business people were declaring bankruptcy daily. Young people were going from house to house begging for food. Not that they didn’t want to work; there simply weren’t any jobs.

“My mother was a Christian woman and believed in helping people in need. Every day we cooked a big kettle of soup and baked bread to feed those poor, hungry people – about 30 daily.’

“We looked to our neighbor on the north, Germany, where Hitler had been in power since 1933.” she recalls. “We had been told that they didn’t have unemployment or crime, and they had a high standard of living.

“Nothing was ever said about persecution of any group – Jewish or otherwise. We were led to believe that everyone in Germany was happy. We wanted the same way of life in Austria. We were promised that a vote for Hitler would mean the end of unemployment and help for the family. Hitler also said that businesses would be assisted, and farmers would get their farms back.

“Ninety-eight percent of the population voted to annex Austria to Germany and have Hitler for our ruler.

“We were overjoyed,” remembers Kitty, “and for three days we danced in the streets and had candlelight parades. The new government opened up big field kitchens and everyone was fed.

“After the election, German officials were appointed, and, like a miracle, we suddenly had law and order. Three or four weeks later, everyone was employed. The government made sure that a lot of work was created through the Public Work Service.

“Hitler decided we should have equal rights for women. Before this, it was a custom that married Austrian women did not work outside the home. An able-bodied husband would be looked down on if he couldn’t support his family. Many women in the teaching profession were elated that they could retain the jobs they previously had been re- quired to give up for marriage.

“Then we lost religious education for kids

“Our education was nationalized. I attended a very good public school.. The population was predominantly Catholic, so we had religion in our schools. The day we elected Hitler (March 13, 1938), I walked into my schoolroom to find the crucifix replaced by Hitler’s picture hanging next to a Nazi flag. Our teacher, a very devout woman, stood up and told the class we wouldn’t pray or have religion anymore. Instead, we sang ‘Deutschland, Deutschland, Uber Alles,’ and had physical education.

“Sunday became National Youth Day with compulsory attendance. Parents were not pleased about the sudden change in curriculum. They were told that if they did not send us, they would receive a stiff letter of warning the first time. The second time they would be fined the equivalent of $300, and the third time they would be subject to jail.”

And then things got worse.

“The first two hours consisted of political indoctrination. The rest of the day we had sports. As time went along, we loved it. Oh, we had so much fun and got our sports equipment free.

“We would go home and gleefully tell our parents about the wonderful time we had.

“My mother was very unhappy,” remembers Kitty. “When the next term started, she took me out of public school and put me in a convent. I told her she couldn’t do that and she told me that someday when I grew up, I would be grateful. There was a very good curriculum, but hardly any fun – no sports, and no political indoctrination.

“I hated it at first but felt I could tolerate it. Every once in a while, on holidays, I went home. I would go back to my old friends and ask what was going on and what they were doing.

“Their loose lifestyle was very alarming to me. They lived without religion. By that time, unwed mothers were glorified for having a baby for Hitler.

“It seemed strange to me that our society changed so suddenly. As time went along, I realized what a great deed my mother did so that I wasn’t exposed to that kind of humanistic philosophy.

“In 1939, the war started, and a food bank was established. All food was rationed and could only be purchased using food stamps. At the same time, a full-employment law was passed which meant if you didn’t work, you didn’t get a ration card, and, if you didn’t have a card, you starved to death.

“Women who stayed home to raise their families didn’t have any marketable skills and often had to take jobs more suited for men.

“Soon after this, the draft was implemented.

“It was compulsory for young people, male and female, to give one year to the labor corps,” remembers Kitty. “During the day, the girls worked on the farms, and at night they returned to their barracks for military training just like the boys.

“They were trained to be anti-aircraft gunners and participated in the signal corps. After the labor corps, they were not discharged but were used in the front lines.

“When I go back to Austria to visit my family and friends, most of these women are emotional cripples because they just were not equipped to handle the horrors of combat.

“Three months before I turned 18, I was severely injured in an air raid attack. I nearly had a leg amputated, so I was spared having to go into the labor corps and into military service.

“When the mothers had to go out into the work force, the government immediately established child care centers.

“You could take your children ages four weeks old to school age and leave them there around-the-clock, seven days a week, under the total care of the government.

“The state raised a whole generation of children. There were no motherly women to take care of the children, just people highly trained in child psychology. By this time, no one talked about equal rights. We knew we had been had.

“Before Hitler, we had very good medical care. Many American doctors trained at the University of Vienna..

“After Hitler, health care was socialized, free for everyone. Doctors were salaried by the government. The problem was, since it was free, the people were going to the doctors for everything.

“When the good doctor arrived at his office at 8 a.m., 40 people were already waiting and, at the same time, the hospitals were full.

“If you needed elective surgery, you had to wait a year or two for your turn. There was no money for research as it was poured into socialized medicine. Research at the medical schools literally stopped, so the best doctors left Austria and emigrated to other countries.

“As for healthcare, our tax rates went up to 80 percent of our income. Newlyweds immediately received a $1,000 loan from the government to establish a household. We had big programs for families.

“All day care and education were free. High schools were taken over by the government and college tuition was subsidized. Everyone was entitled to free handouts, such as food stamps, clothing, and housing.

“We had another agency designed to monitor business. My brother-in-law owned a restaurant that had square tables.

“Government officials told him he had to replace them with round tables because people might bump themselves on the corners. Then they said he had to have additional bathroom facilities. It was just a small dairy business with a snack bar. He couldn’t meet all the demands.

“Soon, he went out of business. If the government owned the large businesses and not many small ones existed, it could be in control.

“We had consumer protection, too

“We were told how to shop and what to buy. Free enterprise was essentially abolished. We had a planning agency specially designed for farmers. The agents would go to the farms, count the livestock, and then tell the farmers what to produce, and how to produce it.

“In 1944, I was a student teacher in a small village in the Alps. The villagers were surrounded by mountain passes which, in the winter, were closed off with snow, causing people to be isolated.

“So people intermarried and offspring were sometimes retarded. When I arrived, I was told there were 15 mentally retarded adults, but they were all useful and did good manual work.

“I knew one, named Vincent, very well. He was a janitor of the school. One day I looked out the window and saw Vincent and others getting into a van.

“I asked my superior where they were going. She said to an institution where the State Health Department would teach them a trade, and to read and write. The families were required to sign papers with a little clause that they could not visit for 6 months.

“They were told visits would interfere with the program and might cause homesickness.

“As time passed, letters started to dribble back saying these people died a natural, merciful death. The villagers were not fooled. We suspected what was happening. Those people left in excellent physical health and all died within 6 months. We called this euthanasia.

“Next came gun registration. People were getting injured by guns. Hitler said that the real way to catch criminals (we still had a few) was by matching serial numbers on guns. Most citizens were law-abiding and dutifully marched to the police station to register their firearms. Not long afterwards, the police said that it was best for everyone to turn in their guns. The authorities already knew who had them, so it was futile not to comply voluntarily.

“No more freedom of speech. Anyone who said something against the government was taken away. We knew many people who were arrested, not only Jews, but also priests and ministers who spoke up.

“Totalitarianism didn’t come quickly, it took 5 years from 1938 until 1943, to realize full dictatorship in Austria. Had it happened overnight, my countrymen would have fought to the last breath. Instead, we had creeping gradualism. Now, our only weapons were broom handles. The whole idea sounds almost unbelievable that the state, little by little eroded our freedom.”

“This is my eyewitness account.

“It’s true. Those of us who sailed past the Statue of Liberty came to a country of unbelievable freedom and opportunity.

“America is truly is the greatest country in the world. “Don’t let freedom slip away.

“After America, there is no place to go.”

Kitty Werthmann

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winterrrnight · 3 months

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“here we are again” — new beginnings chapter II

PAIRING: stepdad!soft!rafe x mom!reader

WARNINGS: none!

EDITH SPEAKS: hello mls! I hope you enjoy reading this chapter <3 just a lil note: updates will get a bit sporadic for the upcoming week or so because I have some big things coming up which unfortunately require more attention than my silly little fics :( I greatly apologise for that, but let me tell you once I'm free I'll have great fics awaiting you all!!

please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading and don't hesitate to let me know any of your thoughts 💕💕

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You let out a huge sigh as you lean back in your chair and close your eyes shut. You’ve been trying to find a good preschool for Sage, after you had to pull her out of the one she was earlier in because their fees increased exponentially, and unfortunately you haven’t been earning enough to support Sage going to such an expensive school.

“Mamma mamma!” You hear her call you out from a different room. Her footsteps are audible as she comes running to you, basically banging the floor with her feet.

“Mamma!” She says, smiling wide, standing next to the front legs of your chair and tugging on your pants. You look down at her and plaster a big smile on your face, picking her up and placing her on your lap.

“Yes baby?” You coo, leaning to press a kiss on her soft cheek, which is tinted a light pink.

“I made something for you! You have to see it now,” she says, now tugging on your crewneck. You get up from your chair, Sage on your hip as you go to the room she was just in.

You set her down on the floor, and she picks up a folded paper. “Here,” she grins, and you take the paper from her.

You unfold it and you see a drawing of you, her, and one strange man standing next to the two of you. She’s colored in the drawings, her colors going out of her drawn lines, assuming their own directions, but nevertheless, you can’t help but grin wide at the present.

“Sage baby,” you get on your knees in front of her, “this is so cute! You’re my talented little kiddo, aren’t you?” You smile, tickling her sides. She laughs and squirms to get away from you, her little hands trying to swat you away.

“But who is that?” You ask, pointing at the drawing of the strange man.

“Fafe!” She yells excitedly.

“Fafe? Who’s ‘Fafe’ baby?”

“We met him, at the, at the store! He was big, veryyy big!”

And suddenly it strikes you. The handsome, handsome man who you met at the grocery store. It’s been around a week since that day and you had nearly forgotten about him.

Nearly.

Until this exact moment.

Now everything comes back to you; the exact moment you saw him, your eyes sinking into his, your heart beating so loud it might as well jump out of your chest.

“I remember him baby, why did you draw him?”

“Because, because he was very nice to me,” she says, her hands at her back as she’s swaying side to side in her position.

You aren’t sure what to reply to her with. She drew a man you met and didn’t even talk for more than five minutes on a random Tuesday, and showed you three being a family.

Dad, mom, and Sage. A family.

Is she expecting you two to just get married to him? To bring him in your house this quick?

But, at the end of the day, she’s a four year old little girl, with a wild imagination, and a desire to have a father figure in her life.

You’ve tried your level best to never let Sage feel the lack of a father in her life, but you always knew deep in your heart that one day, she will wonder why she only has a single parent, and why can’t she have two parents like all her friends. But you never expected this day to come so early.

You shake your head and come back to reality, and let a smile pull onto your lips. “I’ll hang this on the fridge next to all your other art,” you tell her, and she jumps up and down with excitement. You make your way to your kitchen, your daughter on your heels as she’s giggling, and you pin her drawing up with a magnet next to the rest. You take a step back to admire the splash of colors on your fridge door, your heart feeling content.

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You smooth out the wrinkles in her dress, and tie the bow of her dress tightly. Sage is especially giggly today, your hands roaming over her little body which constantly creates a tickling sensation on her skin.

“Mamma, where are we going?” She asks you, carefully pocketing a candy you gave her. You pick her up and take her to your kitchen island, settling her in her chair to hand her her cereal.

“We’re going to a new school baby,” you say, pouring milk into her bowl and mixing it well with her fruit loops.

“But, I love home,” she puts, her eyes big and wide, and you know she’s trying her best to convince you to stay at home by putting on a puppy dog face.

“You know that face doesn’t work on me,” you smile, sitting next to her, and gently smoothing a hand over her hair. She only giggles as her answer and you pick up her spoon, and start to feed her. Even though she knows how to eat on her own, you’re worried she might get messy and spill the milk on her dress.

You were worried she might not like the idea of going to a new school. She really liked the previous one, but you knew you couldn’t keep her in there for long. But here she is sitting next to you, eating her cereal as excitedly as if you’re about to go to an amusement park.

Once she’s done eating, you both leave for the school. This one also happens to be closer to your home than the last one, so you're quick to reach there. You help Sage get out of the car, her light bag hanging on her shoulders and her hand securely in yours, as you lead her to the main doors of the school.

When you go inside, the receptionist leads you to the classroom Sage has been assigned to. A few children are sitting on the floor of the classroom, empty white sheets spread around them along with unopened boxes of paint.

You hear Sage audibly gasp as she notices all the art supplies, her eyes shining with a desire to create art. You look around the classroom to spot a teacher, but there’s no one to be seen.

You decide to maybe talk to the receptionist once again; maybe she’s making a mistake? You leave Sage in the classroom and turn around, and almost in the next fraction of the second you bang into a broad chest.

“Oh gosh I’m so sorry!” You grunt, your eyes closed from the impact. You run a hand over your forehead, feeling a slight pain from your collision into the broad and muscular chest.

You finally open your eyes, and you see the last person you would expect to be here.

“Rafe?”

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matrixbearer2024 · 2 months

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Party Games Aplenty

Vox x CollegeStudent!Reader

A/N: Just a funny little interlude where I get to the club rink aftermath with Reader lolol, also featuring a very chaotic Lucifer trying to play matchmaker- This is kind of like what I had mentioned in the past where Reader ends up playing some "kiss, marry, kill" lmao- I'm writing another interlude that comes directly after this with more fluffy stuff so you guys could probably look forward to that too hahahaha!

As the first rays of the morning filtered through the curtains, your eyes reluctantly fluttered open as the hangover finally hit you full force.

As fun as it was to overindulge in the festivities of the night before, you were starting to regret not being careful enough.

You forced yourself to sit up, biting back a groan when the room spun slightly.

How you even managed to return to the hotel, much less your own bed, was but a fuzzy memory.

But when you raised your hands to rub the sleep out of your eyes, you noticed the dark sleeves of a coat that didn't belong to you.

Wait...

Wasn't this Vox's blazer?

You didn't even get to wonder how it came into your possession before the smell of his cologne hit your nose.

It instantly took you back to last night, the first time you noticed the scent was when you had literally fallen on top of Vox because he'd lost his balance on his skates.

Then again when he'd stepped in close to check if you were okay after that exchange with a flirty drunkard.

It wasn't a fragrance you initially expected, minty with some hints of citrus to make a refreshing and crisp scent-

But honestly it was better than what you guessed which was just the smell of new computer parts-

A small blush worked onto your face as you reminisced the night before, your numbing migraine mostly an afterthought by this point.

Had he leant this to you...?

A small bashful smile appeared on your face, tugging the coat closer as you remembered the genuine charming smile that had gotten you so interested in the overlord in the first place.

Huh, maybe you should call him-

"Hello my dear! Any reason to be so smitten this early in the morning?"

"HOLY SHI-"

You were so busy fawning over Vox and his chivalry the night prior that you didn't notice Alastor suddenly pop up next to you on the bed.

So when the radio demon had suddenly mentioned something- you practically screamed.

Thank goodness you didn't fall off the bed this time, but boy did that give you a scare.

Also smitten? Bitch who's smitten it wasn't you-

"Huh-??? What the hell are you doing in my room?! It's too early for any of your games you old weirdo!"

"Hahaha! Oh I'm not here to play any games fawn! I merely came to fetch you at Charlie's request!"

You just rolled your eyes at the deer annoyed, rubbing at your eyes once more as you swung your legs over the edge of the mattress.

"Charlie's looking for me? Why?"

"Why don't you head downstairs and find out?"

You just glared at Alastor for giving you such a vague answer, to which he simply shrugged and grinned wider.

Cheeky old bastard.

You were too busy being irritated with the antique media overlord that by the time you'd come downstairs to meet with the rest of the group-

You actually missed the odd looks they gave you.

Not that you would've noticed anything anyway when your mind was preoccupied with the delectable aroma that wafted from the kitchen.

"Oooooh! Lucifer! You made pancakes?"

"Why not? I had some time and Charlie asked if I could."

"Can I have some?"

"Sure! Just help yourself!"

You skipped past Lucifer happily, grabbing a serving of pancakes before sitting down at the table with everyone else and digging in.

Still, you seemed to just happily munch away in your own world until Angel finally spoke up.

"Sooooo... wanna explain who's jacket that is toots?"

You almost choked on your food in surprise.

Only then did you realize the amused or curious gazes everyone else had on you.

No wonder Alastor didn't say or do anything else when you had just stomped out of your room.

That old fuck-!

"It's Vox's blazer, he just leant it to me."

You mumbled hastily, poking at your food and avoiding everyone's eyes.

This was... kinda embarrassing.

"Did he try to charm your pants off or something?"

"What? No! He's just a good friend- that's kind of it."

Lucifer let out a long whistle before he sat down next to you with a playful grin, using his magic to make the apron he was wearing disappear.

You were not quite as enthused as the king of hell.

"Hooooh boy, seems like someone got friendzoned!"

You just rolled your eyes at the king of hell, tipping his hat in retaliation so he had to fix it.

You getting friendzoned- as if.

"I don't really even remember what happened last night, who brought me back to the hotel?"

Vaggie raised an eyebrow at you, crossing her arms with an amused grin.

That made you just the teensiest bit concerned.

"Vox did, you were drunk out of you mind so he went ahead and took you back here."

"Hedidwhatnow-"

You thought it was either Angel or Charlie that would've taken your wasted self back to the hotel-

Not a specific flat-faced overlord.

Wouldn't he have just found your situation hilarious?

Well, maybe he did-

But that still didn't explain why he'd go through all of that effort to take care of you.

"Uh ohhhh, looks someone's hit by Cupid's arrow!"

"LUCIFER PLEASE-"

As the table erupted in laughter, you just stewed in embarrassed silence.

Vox was such an idiot-

You could've taken care of yourself.

And still you were more than giddy from his actions.

Geez.

This was so confusing...

Vox himself wasn't actually faring much better than you were.

Given that he freed up his weekend at your request-

He wasn't really doing anything this early in the day.

Instead, the overlord was just staring up at the ceiling trying to come to terms with the realization that slapped him in the face last night.

Was he really in love with you?

What if he was just mistaking this fondness?

After all, he never had this kind of... relationship with anyone.

He'd just been looking through your past conversations and pictures in an attempt to really make heads or tails of his feelings-

When his phone's ringtone suddenly blared out.

Vox fumbled with it from shock, only to get even more panicked when he realized it was you who was trying to call him.

Oh FUCK.

What was he even going to say to you after last night?!

He was absolutely not ready for this-

Eventually though, he'd managed to gather enough of his bearings to answer the call.

"Hey dollface, did you need anything?"

It was silent for a little bit and the overlord almost thought you'd just accidentally pressed the button.

Until he heard Lucifer's giggling from the other end.

What the fuck was the guy doing with your phone?!

"Wha- What are you doing with this phone?!"

"Oh calm down, we're just playing some truth or dare! This was just one of your dear (Y/N)'s!"

"Truth or dare?? This early in the day???"

"Angel's idea, she just agreed. But don't worry- there isn't any booze. You're welcome to join in if you drop by!"

Vox sighed in mild irritation, of course you'd agree to play this stupid game.

He glanced over at the digital clock by his bedside, it wasn't even noon.

"Hello? You still there TV man?"

"I'll be at the hotel in ten, don't let (Y/N) do anything stupid."

Lucifer only chuckled and tossed the phone back to you, waving off your queries when you had asked if Vox said anything.

It did strike you as peculiar when you were simply dared by him to hand over your phone unlocked, it was such a simple task.

Unlike the dares you'd been feeding the others-

Which were...

Hilarious to say the least.

Especially now that Vaggie had her long hair done up in such an obnoxious style and Husker was wearing a dress.

It would've made you feel bad if the situation just wasn't so funny.

"Vox?! Where are you going?!"

"I'll tell you later when I get back."

"Not like that you aren't!"

"What's wrong with my suit this time?!"

"If you're heading where I think you are, it's not dressed like that!"

Vox could only sigh in exasperation when Velvette ran after him, he hastily just threw on the outfit he was familiar with and practically bolted out the door.

Only, he didn't quite realize that in his haste- his bow tie wasn't so properly done and he'd even forgotten his hat.

The youngest Vee wanted to facepalm at the frenzied mess her colleague was at the moment, but instead flicked her hand to put immediately him into a better prepared outfit.

He still had his white long sleeved dress shirt but his coat had instead shifted into a button down vest with the same striped pattern, a necktie replaced his signature bow and his hat was now on his head as well.

The overlord's slacks had gone from black to a dark navy to complement his vest, his shoes remained unchanged.

Vox just looked down at himself confused, he looked even dressier than usual?

"There, you'll still look sharp even if you completely lose it!"

He decided not to say anything in reply, his mind blitzing about way too many things at once to properly retort.

The overlord waved back to acknowledge Velvette before quickly rushing out the doors, swiftly travelling through some wires to get to the hotel.

By the time he had arrived, you were about to chug a beverage that even Vox couldn't recognize.

Hastily making his way towards you in a zap of blue electricity, he plucked the glass out of your hand and just gave you his signature grin.

He didn't know, but you'd noticed his expression shifted from worry to that trademark smile.

Not that you would even be able to mention it, being shocked from his sudden arrival and all.

Vox took a wiff of the concoction and immediately cringed, it was like someone had mixed up every kind of alcohol into one drink.

Ew.

"Playing party games without inviting me? That's kinda cruel dollface."

Everyone aside from a certain king of hell seemed shocked at the arrival of your flatscreened friend.

Your eyebrows furrowed for a moment as you looked at Vox, just how did he know about what you were doing?

The overlord merely shot you a curious smile, even he had no idea why you were looking at him like he was a puzzle to be solved.

It took no less than a minute for the pieces to fall into place, then the whole situation finally made sense to you.

"Lucifer you fucking snitch!"

"Eh? What are you talking about (Y/N)? I didn't do anything!"

All eyes were suddenly on the king of hell, and Vox couldn't help but start to feel confused.

Was he really baited into arriving?

Not to mention he actually fell for it.

Did he really just get played?!

"That's why you wanted my phone earlier! Why you little-"

"Well, you know what they say- the more the merrier!"

Vox just shook his head in disbelief as he watched you practically chase Lucifer all around the hotel lobby.

And to think he'd worked himself up into a near panic because he was unsure of the messes you'd get into playing Truth or Dare.

He looked back at the glass in his hand, swirling the beverage with a raised eyebrow.

"I wouldn't drink that if I were you."

"I could gather as much from the smell, but thanks for the warning. What's in this anyway?"

"Every kind of booze that the bar has to offer, it'll probably get anyone tipsy."

"And you guys dared (Y/N) to drink this???"

Husker just casually shrugged at the technology overlord's response.

Vox didn't even bother to question why the feline was wearing a stupidly poofy dress either-

"They took up the dare, you'd honestly come in at just the right moment."

The overlord just rolled his eyes, his timing was... kind of spot on.

Well, when has it not been?

He was just minding his own business conversing with the hotel's resident bartender when a random pillow was suddenly thrown at his face, hitting his screen with a light 'paff'-

"Sorry Vox!"

You looked at him apologetically, twiddling your fingers as he just shook his head again.

So you were the culprit.

Vox couldn't help but just chuckle at your meekness, this chaos wasn't anything new to him.

Though you just giggled when he shot you an amused smile, the others in the room totally missing it when Angel suggested they play another game.

"Come on! Let's play some two truths and a lie! That's a lotta fun!"

"Dude, you're just going to lie about everything."

"Whaaaat? No I'm not!"

"I don't see why not."

All eyes were immediately on Vox, surprised he'd even entertain such a menial thing.

He simply shrugged, moving away from the bar to stand next to you.

You just looked up at him with wide eyes, he's willing to play a game like this-?

With all of you??

"It's just a game, nothing to get too worked up about."

Lucifer audibly snickered at his words, causing the technology overlord to fling a pillow in his general direction.

Of course the fallen angel simply dodged it-

Sure-

It was a little hypocritical considering how he reacted to learning that you were playing truth or dare-

But that didn't really need to be said.

After a few rounds of the game however, Vox was slowly starting to regret agreeing.

Especially when it had basically turned into a QnA directed at him.

The only thing that gave him even an ounce of respite was the fact you could answer some of the questions.

You really knew him well.

"So you can seriously just display anything on your face?"

"Emotes, pictures, videos, games, you name it. Anything digital I probably could."

"I actually wonder what would happen if I plugged an actual console into your head-"

"Doll, as much as I let you get away with things- that's where I draw the line."

Given that you were all just sitting around the lobby, you leaning on Vox wasn't all that surprising.

It felt natural for the both of you, comfortable even.

"Awwww come on? Why not? Let me play Mario kart on your face-"

"Hard pass dollface, hard pass."

That question caused the both of you to fall back into your typical banter, nearly forgetting everyone else was still there until Lucifer spoke up.

"Fine fine, we get it- you both know each other well. Let's play something more interesting! So (Y/N), kiss, marry, kill anyone in this room?"

"We're shifting games now?"

"Eh?! Why me?!"

"Why not?"

You couldn't form a retort to that, giving your techy friend an annoyed side-eye when he couldn't stop snickering.

"Well fine! I'm definitely killing Alastor-"

You had to elbow Vox when he started openly laughing, you didn't even say that just to echo your buddy.

You really just found Alastor ridiculously creepy.

"I'm not saying that for you Samsung, the old geezer is just way too annoying and creepy!"

That comment just made the overlord laugh harder, and you couldn't help but roll your eyes at his antics.

"Anyway- kiss... Angel probably? He's got experience so I probably wouldn't regret it."

"Well ya ain't wrong toots."

The spider proudly said, causing you to shake your head and wave him off.

You didn't mean to feed the guy's ego, but you honestly probably just did.

"And marry Vox. That's a no brainer."

"Wait what-"

Vox hadn't been paying attention to the conversation much, instead just stealing glances at you that kind of went unnoticed.

So when you said "marry" and then his name in tandem, his brain kind of just froze.

"Yeah, you take care and watch over me- plus you're like my best friend- so if I had to I'd just pick you."

The overlord didn't know whether he wanted to smile or just blank.

Was that a friendzone???

What literally just happened-

"Plus you're rich, so like- I could literally live in luxury-"

"You can be kind of a bitch you know that?"

"Ha! Takes one to know one!"

"Why you little-!"

"Awwww you loooooooove meeeeeee!"

Vox couldn't even fire back at that, just crossing his arms and huffing as you devolved into a laughing fit at his expense.

And it wasn't like he could stay annoyed with you either, even if you really liked pushing his buttons in every which way possible.

All he could do was smile and grab a nearby couch cushion to playfully hit you with it.

"Naaaaah! As if, keep dreaming dollface!"

Oh if only you knew how true your words were.

#vox x reader #hazbin hotel #vox #hazbin hotel vox #get off my screen series #vox x you #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin vox #hazbin vox x reader #hazbin hotel vox x reader

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ystrike1 · 1 month

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How to Tame the Merciless Villain - By Peroche (8.5/10)

A submissive, crazy, powerful magician slave plot done right? Is that even possible? They actually start as tentative friends and he falls for her first? AND the Duchess protagonist isn't an insufferable pervert or an idiot? This one is too good to be true.

I kept waiting for a disappointing plot twist, but it has not come yet.

Olivia woke up as the daughter of a Duke 4 years ago, and she's been searching for the main villain for 2. She's been visiting every slave auction, waiting for him to go up for sale. He's one of the most beautiful slaves on the market, so she cannot relax for a day or she will miss the chance to save him.

The villain is named Kian, and he has a very tragic backstory. He was born with incredible latent magical power, but nobody cared. He was born a slave, so the noble class treated him like one. His pretty face didn't help. When his powers suddenly manifested (when an old master attempted to do S&M knife play) he felt wronged. Cheated out of the wonderful life he should have had. He was BORN talented, but all that mattered was his slave status.

The story does a good job with showing his downfall. Originally, he was just a hard worker. A slave willing to work like a dog to survive. He did not have a violent bone in his body. The constant sexual abuse he experienced is what pushed him over the edge.

He had many masters. Which means that, despite his beauty, the wealthy women who owned him always grew bored of him. They passed him around like he was a literal living sex toy.

Worst of all....he had to perform well. This contributed to his breakdown more than anything. He was super submissive and generous to his masters in bed, and still he never got a crumb. Not even a good meal really. He got his own basement room, but it didn’t have a door. He sacrificed every shred of pride in his body, just to live...and then he found out he was special. So special that if he had been born anything but a slave he would have become famous and respected.

I'd snap too.

The original Olivia was your average noble woman. She had fake friends. She was snotty but not abusive. Her family and her maids liked her, but her role was to marry the prince.

The new version of Olivia breaks up with the Prince after she buys Kian. This sets up suspicion across the country. The Crown Prince himself has been abandoned for a beautiful slave. It's a scandal, but Olivia has a plan. She is currently in charge of her family, as her father is ill. She does not love the Prince, and she knows he's secretly a selfish coward.

She wants to pour all of her time and energy into sponsoring Kian. Which will slightly elevate him out of his status as a slave. She must ensure that Kian has decent control over his magic when it awakens in him. He's on the level of a natural disaster. Training him well will basically save the nation.

Olivia is doing her best, but the people around her think she's gone nuts. Sponsoring some nobody slave? That she just met? It is a little fast, but remember. Olivia is on a time crunch. It took two years for her to find this man. She must calm him and tame him FAST. If he discovers his strength when he's still bitter at the world well...heads will roll.

Luckily, Olivia is so distracted by all of her responsibilities that it's impossible for Kian to deny her sincerity. He stops trying to undress for her pretty quick, because she genuinely seems uninterested.

Sure, she thinks he's pretty. BUT she's running the entire Ashford estate AND she just broke up with her powerful fiance. There's no real time to flirt. Instead Kian begins to admire Olivia.

She also saves him from a jealous and sadistic servant who thinks they're lovers. That was a nice touch. It made her look even cooler.

Olivia tried very hard, but the power of envy is amazing. One of Olivia's enemies sends an assassin. It's after a happy night. Kian has his sponsored status lined up. He's learning how to use magic. Olivia even attended a party with him. Their scandalous story has become inspiration for a famous artist, who painted Kian. People are interested in him, instead out outright abusive. Olivia's plan is unfolding perfectly. Kian will be a respected young magician before his true strength manifests.....

.....then the assassin comes before he's strong enough.

Olivia gets stabbed.

Kian starts screaming about how he wants to go home, with her. He carries her back. The earth splits. Blue fire swallows the assassin, and we see how much his admiration has grown. He doesn't just admire his hardworking master.

He's obsessed with her.

#yandere #male yandere #yandere male #yandere boy #recommendations #recs #rec #recommended #webtoon #otome #otome isekai #How to Tame the Merciless Villain

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buckyalpine · 8 months

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Fic idea - Bucky’s family & time travel

You know how I keep proposing ideas, then adding it to my wips and then I stare at it while it stares at me. Heres another. I'm so sorry. Swear this will end in fluff, you'll just suffer in between. So imagine the most angstiest angst where Bucky gets married and has a child with his sweetheart before he’s sent to war. He's loved her his whole life and now they have a little one together; nothing could be more perfect. He promises he'll be back safe and sound with a kiss to her forehead and plenty of kisses for his baby girl.

Until Hydra captures him and turns him into the Winter Soldier. His first mission is to eliminate any familial ties. He doesn't feel anything when he pulls the trigger. He's successful and carries out hundreds of others kills, each searing itself in some part of his brain but he's constantly wiped before he can piece anything together.

But then he's rescued and he has to pick up the broken fragments of his memories and its too much of a fog for him to understand. At the very least he has his best friend by his side again and he's slowly starting to remember.

His first question is about his sweet y/n and his little girl.

His happiness is short-lived when Steve doesn't say anything. Bucky doesn't understand why he avoids his gaze, why he suddenly looks so distraught. No amount of pleading or begging works, his best friend doesn't breathe a word, asking Bucky to please let things be.

To learn to live with the way things were.

He can't do that though. He needs answers. When the team is away on a mission, he find a way to get into his records that SHIELD kept on him, wondering if they ever had anything on file about his life before he was captured. Every single detail about who he was before the war to after is written with details and camera footage.

He doesn't move from where he's seated, a blank expression on his face while everyone returns. Steve approaches Bucky first, worried about why the soldier looked so pale as if he'd aged 10 years in the past 3 days.

"I killed them?" His broken whisper of a voice breaks Steve's heart when he sees the file Bucky was looking at, a picture of him, his little girl on his shoulders and wife all smiling at the camera. The sheet he's clutching onto has their names along with deceased written write across the sheet.

Bucky is inconsolable.

His dreams are no longer about others he has killed. He's flooded with memories of her; the soft ivory dress she wore on their wedding day, the baby pink lace she had on when he undressed her that same night, the scent of her perfume, the sound of her laugh, the kicks of their baby, the sound of her happy squeals when he blew raspberries onto her chubby cheeks.

Those happy memories are quickly replaced with her pleading for him to remember. To just remember at least once.

Jamie, it's me, please, m'your y/n, Bucky, don't-

D-daddy?

Baby, go to your room-Bucky no-

Mama!

Please, not Bella, James, you love her baby, you love us- please remember me-

I-I love you

The pain of Bucky's cries are too much for anyone to handle. They're a different type of sadness. So much so, even Tony's starting to worry when he doesn't see Bucky for days on end. He begs to be put back in cyro, to have his memories wiped, to have his brain fried, anything to forget. He doesn't care about the pain, he just wants it all to end.

Imagine theres a mission that involves time travel. Steve and Sam stand on the platform, ready to enter the portal, setting their timers for a specific date in the past. When Sam catches Steve adding another date without telling him, he quietly adds it on his suit as well, piecing what the Captain plans on doing.

The mission takes a little longer than anticipated. Steve is surprised when Sam is beside him when he travels back to the 40's, the both of them now with a new mission in mind, alternating the future be damned. If they had a chance to give Bucky the life he deserved again, they would do it. Bucky doesn't ask for much. In fact he never asked for anything. He deserved this.

Imagine the shock everyone gets when the portal opens up at the compound and there are now 4 people on the platform. Steve, Sam, a woman and a little girl no older than 2. She's dressed in a simple dotted dress, still wearing an apron around her waist while her baby stays clinging around her, tucking her face into her mommas neck.

Imagine the way Bucky would collapse with her when he sees his family again, crying endlessly being able to hold his wife and child, something he thought he'd lost forever. Everyone gives the little family some privacy while he hugs and kisses them, cuddling them to his chest, still right on the lab floor. Explanations for everything can wait, right now he can't believe he has his angels back.

Imagine the way they'd fall asleep that night, sleeping in bed for once, now that he's reunited with his y/n and his Bella.

imagine the endless love he'd make to her while Bella spends time with her God Fathers, aka all the Avenger men.

Imagine she's pregnant soon after and they can continue being a family in the present, doing all the things they always dreamed of.

Anyway, just a thought.

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moumouton4 · 11 months

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I'm Looking For My Husband || Kakashi Hatake x reader

A/n : And here is a non requested fic. As always I take time to answer to requests but I spare time for my own imagiantion. So here is an idea I got a LONG time ago 😂

Masterlist ⚜

Warning : Fluff, heavy make out session, getting caught ??

Summary : You've just arrived in your husband's village to settle in, and once you've finished settling in, you set off in search of him. You meet Naruto, who helps you find him. Little does he knows he DOES know who your husband is

I don’t give permission to repost my work, if you want to share it just reblogue it

Words count : 2193

Kakashi Hatake was a man of many secrets. So few people knew who you were. Of course, there was Guy and Jiraiya, but otherwise no one else in the Hidden Leaf Village. The reality was that on one of his long missions he was paired with a ninja from Suna, aka you. You got along so well that you were entrusted with all missions concerning the common interests of your two countries. Over time, you grew much closer, and Kakashi ended up spending his rare vacations in Suna with you.

Of course, he was far, far from imagining that he would have the emotional capacity to open his heart to someone in this way, and to become romantically attached to them. But it happened, and when he realized it, it came as a shock. Without lying, he wasn't at all happy at first, wondering how he'd react if anything happened to you. Eventually, when all he could think about while lying on his bed at night was you and what you might be up to, and that spread to the whole day, he soon realized that his fear was not going to stop him from doing anything in his plan to keep you close to him.

And what a surprise it was when you told him you reciprocated his feelings fully. He thought he was going to cry, but he didn't have time to do so when he saw your face close to his. His body acted alone and he lowered his mask, letting you taste his lips. A few months later - knowing that you'd been working together for years - you got engaged. Before getting married in a hurry when your time off allowed it. Of course, Tsunade and Gaara - a close friend of yours - accepted the wedding, albeit inter-village.

Very few people knew about the wedding, and frankly no one could have guessed it, with Kakashi's ring hidden behind his protection gloves ( I myself practiced martial art but even in other sports rings are the first thing one has to take off but not here lmao ). And you weren't living in Konoha yet, but you will soon be. Yes, you'd chosen to move in with him rather than the other way round, knowing that the strong ties he had there meant you'd decided to follow him without following his decision to move to Suna instead, what a thoughtful lover he is.

So that's how you found yourself with a suitcase containing all the belongings of a shinobi, a straw hat on your head to protect you from the sun of Suna ( either you see this as a reference to One Piece or to the scarecrow Kakashi ;) )

However, there was a shadow over the picture : while you knew all the important points in the village, you didn't know the hell where your apartment was, though your ninja techniques enabled you to find it rather easily. Apartment check, Kakashi... not check. So you began to wander through the village under the curious gazes of ordinary inhabitants who didn't know who the hell you were, ninjas though knew since Tsunade preferred to tell them a ninja from Suna was going to settle there to save you from trouble with the police, thanks to her for respecting your privacy.

Suddenly a golden-haired boy you'd come to know, thanks to your now husband Kakashi, as Naruto, the jinchūriki of the Nine-Tails, leapt in front of you.

"Hello miss, are you new around here ? I don't remember seeing you before ? What are you up to ?"

"It's incredible to talk so fast" you thought "He's really as energetic as Kakashi told me and he looks taller than in the photo frame" you thought before speaking aloud "Wo we don't know each other, I've just moved to Konoha and I'm looking for my husband"

"Oooh he's from Konoha I see ! Well welcome then. Perhaps I can help you ?"

At these words you smiled "Yes, I'd like that", thinking it over you added "He's probably training, but I've no idea where exactly"

"I know this village like the back of my hand, I'll probably be able to find it easily dattebayo ! Follow me !" he shouted before starting to run in one direction before stopping and looking at you sheepishly "Let's take a walk instead, I'm sure you've come a long way"

( He could have asked your husband's name before running off 😂 )

You nodded, laughing "Indeed, walking sounds more restful" and with that you made your way to the training area Naruto had described to you. He did disappear for a short moment telling you he needed to talk to someone before leading you to the training areas.

A long stretch of open ground, with what looked like a man-made waterfall and a forest below. Speaking of sunken, here was your husband, reading his book on a wooden bench not far from the foot of the waterfall.

Naruto, unaware of this detail, continued "Hey look there ! That's Kakashi sensei. He's going to help you find your husband. But as he's still reading his pervy book, we're going to have trouble moving him"

"Hhhh Jiraiya's books, they're pretty good"

"You know Jiraiya from where you come ?"

"Of course who doesn't ?!?” you said proudly before Naruto continued.

"Well then, you'll get along just fine" he said as he jumped off the waterfall, leaving you chuckling to yourself for a moment before you followed.

Even lying like that he looked hot.

"Kakashi sensei ! Kakashi sensei ! I have with me-"

"Naruto we are on a break, you'll start training again in half an hour" he said in a monotone yet commanding voice without lifting his nose from the book.

"But this lady is looking for her husband and I thought you might be able to help her"

Before he could even lift his nose from the book, you snapped back, "Can you even see daylight with that in front of your eyes ?"

The mere sound of your voice made him lose his composure, and he dropped his book, which came crashing down on his face as he struggled to get up from his lying position to look presentable, almost slipping in the process. As he finally managed to stand up, his book lay face down on the floor.

His dark eyes widened as he met your mischievous ones, a light red settling on his cheekbones, visible on one side of his face. He didn't know you'd be coming so soon "H-hey-"

"Kakashi sensei she's looking for her husband, that means she's no longer to be seduced"

"That's quite true" you said, holding back a laugh at the young boy's clueless state.

Kakashi smirked beneath his mask : "You're right, Naruto, her husband will probably do just fine. Go back to training, I'll help her"

"Ah, at last ! Good luck, miss !" shouted the boy before setting off for the training ground with a cheerful step.

Turning his attention back to you, Kakashi spoke more confidently, "So you're looking for your husband huh", bringing his hands to his hips.

Out of earshot, you seductively replied "Yes, I've had a long trip and I just need to spend some quality time with him"

"Oooh is that so ? "he replied, his voice dropping an octave as he took a step towards you, careful to keep his distance if anyone was watching. You hadn't yet discussed whether it was safe enough to make your relationship public. But living together, it would eventually come out.

He turned quickly, picking up his book and putting it in his back pocket. Then he raised his arm in the air, gesturing to another ninja a few yards away, before pointing at you. The other brown ninja, wearing a forehead protector, saluted you before giving Kakashi a thumbs-up, taking the time to give him a knowing look.

"Don't worry, that's typical Tenzo, he's always making funny faces" you chuckled at his words before greeting the boy. Then you started walking away from the training area.

"I hope you had a good trip. You didn't get lost on the way" he said, his voice much softer and giddier, with a joking tone, now that you were out of earshot.

"How could I have gotten lost knowing that my needy husband was always bringing me to Konohagakure to secretly spend time with me" you replied, making him chuckle nervously while scratching the back of his head.

The more you were walking and chatting the more he wanted to get close to you, he was itching to have his mouth pressed against yours. But in the middle of the village it was impossible. "Where are we going by the way this isn't the way home"

"No it isn't, we're a bit far from there. So I just thought- here" and with that he grabbed you by the hand and pulled you towards an alleyway out of sight.

"You just have to tell yourself it's an aperitif of what is to come" he said in a husky voice, lowering his mask before pressing his lips against yours, pushing you harshly against the nearest wall, his hands resting on either side of your head. Pouring into this kiss all the effect of the lack your absence has had on him.

"Ooh getting risky I like it" you said, wrapping your arms around his neck "What is going to come next ?"

"Keep this up and you might soon find out" and with that he grabbed your hips before lifting you up and as you wrapped your legs around his waist. He put his mouth back on yours, this time directly going to French kiss you ( French like me lmao ). His tongue caressed yours over and over again until your legs tightened around his waist.

That's when you both felt another chakra close to you. Its source was unknown to you, but the same could not be said for Kakashi. As he stepped back, Kakashi instinctively pulled up his mask, before gently placing you on the ground. As you gently resumed your breathing, your eyes lifted to the source of the chakra.

"S-sorry I didn't want to disturb you but Naruto told me earlier that she was looking for her husband I-I d-"

“Oooh so that’s were he went” you thought before exchanging a glance before kakashi interrupted him "Don't worry she found him"

Iruka's mouth opened and closed like a fish, his index fingers pointing at you and then at him repeatedly "you- erm eh ?" ( yeah that mean "You're married ?" )

You took a quick step before reaching out to shake his hand, "I'm Y/n Hatake. Kakashi's wife" you smiled widely, you've been dying since forever to say that. Kakashi under his mask was smiling too because he too was dying since forever to hear you say that. Hotter than any Icha Icha he has read.

Iruka stretched out his hand towards you, a genuine smile coming over his face which a few seconds ago had been totally embarrassed "Nice to meet you under that name" he chuckled nervously, still embarrassed by the situation before. Indeed, you have the brief opportunity to cross paths one day in the hokage's office during your travels on missions defending the interests of Suna and Konohagakure.

Suddenly as if he remembered with full force what he had stumbled on he spoke again " I-I-I'll leave you now, you're in good hands" "I bet she is " Kakashi said under his breath, as Iruka waved at you both before disappearing as fast as he appeared ( Naruto wasn't near going to hear the end of this, well I mean Iruka is going to slap the back of his head without ever telling him why )

Kakashi whose hands were encircling your waist from behind spoke up "So were were we my beautiful wife ?"

"We were about to go home because I'm not gonna get caught twice in the same day during my first day here"

"At least they'll know who you belong too" he chuckled a hint of possessiveness in his tone

"Well if I were the one hiding under a mask I'd say the same. But everybody sees my damn face so it's without me" you said as you made your way out of the alley "If you want it you'll have to get it" you said seductively before jumping and disappearing out of his sight.

For a second he was stunned, a smirk plastered on his face. Oh you wanted to play. Fine but should be careful because he is a hell of a player. You'd challenged him, so he was going to find you. He could still smell you trailing a track. Better be ready because he'll find you very quickly and he won't need to ask anyone if they've seen his wife. It's your game but here you're on his field. You won't be able to escape him. But you wouldn't have it any other way.

A/n : I hope you guys liked it ! 🍩🥗 Again my requests are open 🥯🍮

A/n 2 : In the original version Naruto was supposed to think Y/n's husband disappeared and he was going to tell the whole village if they saw her husband. Y/n would have been so stunned by the way Naruto handles it she would have just followed to see what he was gonna do. At the end they would have eneded up at Tsunade's office and Kakashi would have been there and Y/n just goes : "Thank you for helping me" and she goes to stand next to Kakashi and Naruto is like 😃🤠🤡

But then I wouldn't have been able to add the French kiss scene 👀🤣😭

Taglist : @foxxymunson, @cl0vr, @ilovemanypeople, @glossy1pearl, @jane57sstuff

#naruto #naruto imagine #naruto shippuden #naruto shippuden imagine #kakashi hatake #kakashi hatake fluff #kakashi hatake x reader #kakashi hatake x reader fluff #kakashi hatake imagine #kakashi fluff #kakashi imagine #kakashi x reader #fluff #miri-writes

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evermorehoon · 5 months

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❣︎ ⎯⎯ reshaping reality

idol pairing: jake x reader

wc: 2.3k

genre: angst, fluff!

warnings: memory loss, separation, some crying of course, unintentionally recreating a meet cute, happy ending!

A/N: well say hello to my comeback work! idk I felt bad about the first one so I made this one to compensate and give y/n a happy ending. seeing as I did write this quite quickly, it might not be good since im very rusty and my fluff is ass😭 but anyway, feedback and appreciation is appreciated in any form so enjoy♡

here's part one in case you wanna refresh your memory (unlike someone lmao)

It was difficult watching Jake slowly regain his memories from a distance. You wanted to be with him, help bring back old memories, maybe even dig up old feelings.

But it had been weeks now and no one wanted to overwhelm him, especially after learning about the deaths of his two best friends. He was inconsolable, his head aching horribly from the crying and struggling to piece things together.

You'd left a questionable impression on him, seeing as his only memory of you is you crying by his bedside and being thankful that he was alive. Who were you, why was my family looking at you so sadly, what are you to me?

“I wondered about this for a while now,” he said aloud to the two memorials in front of him. The pictures of his friends were propped prettily on the table, allowing him to speak as though they were listening to him.

“My family seems to know her but no one wants to tell me who she is. Do you guys know?”

Silence.

“Maybe she can help me remember some of the last few years..”

He was told that there was a chance he wouldn't recover his memories due to the extensive brain damage. His head hurt every time he tried to make himself remember something but flashes of your face would appear in his dreams. He knew you must've been important enough to constantly cross his mind. His next step was to find out why.

Sometimes you'd sit on the edge of your bed, staring at your wedding dress as it hung from the closet door. You would set it out and just look at it. It was a beautiful dress, not a speck of dust on it from how well you cared for it. You were skeptical of wearing it again as it took you back to the worst day of your life.

You knew you could never marry another, especially in this dress. Perhaps the universe was telling you that it wasn't meant to be. That you should slowly move on.

But you'd look down at the rose gold promise ring given to you by your then boyfriend for your one year anniversary together. The engagement ring felt too painful to wear and you never had the chance to even see the wedding ring.

Maybe he won't remember you again, but his heart might.

It had been several months since you'd last seen Jaeyun. He was slowly making up the last few years, having given up on trying to remember old memories he decided to just make new ones. Even if it meant leaving you out of the picture.

He had managed to relearn some of his degree without having to do it again. He was still the quick learner he'd always been but he was made to take it easy at work, his colleagues reintroducing themselves slowly so as to not overwhelm him.

“How was the wedding?”

Jake blinked in confusion when it came up in conversation with a few of his colleagues. He looked completely clueless, shrugging with a nervous chuckle.

“What wedding?”

The others exchanged confused glances as one scratched their head, the air suddenly growing thicker with silence.

“Seriously, guys. Who got married? Was it maybe Jaein? He seems pretty nice.”

It's clear his smile was genuine. And, judging by the look of pure curiosity in his eyes, he was never told that he was in an accident on his wedding day. He was always puzzled by the picture of him and another woman smiling on his desk.

The conversation had died down rather quickly as the others left him hanging, leaving him to return to his desk with a puzzled expression. He sat down with a click of his tongue before looking down at that picture once more.

It had been sitting there for months since he never had the heart to take it off his desk. Looking at it gave him a little warmth in his heart. It gave him a seemingly comforting yet rather unfamiliar feeling, like looking at the woman in the picture was all he was meant to look at.

Then the glimmer of the rose gold ring on his left hand caught his attention. He tilted his head, gently fiddling with it. Taking it off felt wrong as his finger felt empty without it.

“I have to find that girl…” He thought to himself, trying to find a good way to approach you.

According to you, you missed him and you were happy he was okay. You were also in a significant amount of tears, so you must've been very close to him.

But then he sighed. It had been months since he'd last seen you, who knew if you even wanted to meet up with him. He was the one who decided to remake memories instead of hurting his head trying to remember the past.

He couldn't seem to understand why his family didn't say anything about you. Perhaps they thought he would remember you considering how big of a part you played in his life.

But how would you react if he suddenly asked so many questions? About the ring, the picture on his desk, your reaction when you saw him? Perhaps you'd be a little too uncomfortable with his presence after he left you behind without thinking.

Then, he'd thought of an idea.

Meanwhile, for you, the last few months were just numb and depressing. You thought it was for the best, letting him move onto a different path and ensuring his happiness. You felt selfish in wanting to force him to remember you so you could go back to your old life.

However, you went back to work as normal even with a somber look in your eyes. The house you lived in didn't feel like a home anymore. You couldn't smell the delicious 2am ramen he would cook as a late-night snack for you two. The house was cold and lifeless without his warm aura and hearty laughter to fill the rooms.

You missed him terribly. You sometimes wanted to cry when you remembered that you would never wake up to his fluffy bed hair and sleepy expression or his sweet smile that could light the town.

But alas, you never thought you could experience it again. All love ever did was break and burn and end. At least, that's what you thought. You hoped and prayed that maybe he'll remember that you were meant to be.

Jake had moved back to his parents house as his family helped him in every way they could. He sometimes sat in his room, scrolling through his gallery, seeing you in so many pictures.

His heart swelled with warmth when he saw your smile. He chuckled when he saw videos of you two laughing together. How was he not with you right now? It's clear you two were in love, so why couldn't he bring himself to finally talk to you?

He seemed a little… afraid. Yes, afraid of what would happen. Just because you were lovers before the accident doesn't mean you still love him. Maybe his presence will interfere with your healing, maybe you've made peace with this and moved on.

But he'd never know unless he tried. So he gathered up the courage to think of something, some kind of way to ‘accidentally’ run into you.

And judging by one of the pictures in his gallery, he may know just the place.

The coffee shop. As cliché as it may be, you found solace in the atmosphere of a good coffee shop. It was a good environment to work in, all while having even more coffee than before. Your caffeine intake increased steadily over the past few weeks as it was the only thing that could calm you down these days.

Seated in the back of the café, your gaze fixed on your laptop with a cappuccino by your side as you typed. You mastered the ability to block out the world, not allowing your mind to wander because it would almost always make its way back to him.

“Are you using this?”

You froze almost instantaneously, your fingers slightly shaking from how quickly you stilled. That voice was familiar, you remember hearing that same sentence years ago.

It's when you look up, your heart sinks to the ground. There he stood right beside you.

His round glasses and coffee brown eyes, just how you remembered him. He looked like he hadn't aged a day as he looked like the same Sim Jaeyun you met in the university library all those years ago.

“What?” You asked softly, trying to confirm if all of this was real.

“The plug.” His voice sounded much more mature as he pointed to his laptop bag.

You didn't know whether he was intentionally recreating the day you first met or if he's still trying to jog his memory. His face was still uncertain so it was clear he didn't remember doing this before.

You shook your head, allowing him to sit opposite you and plug his laptop in. He couldn't seem to take his eyes off you, his heart felt warm and calm now that he was face to face with the woman he sees in his dreams and in his pictures.

“Is there something on my face?”

Your voice knocked him out of his thoughts as you asked softly. He shook his head, trying to play it off.

“Uh, no… you just look familiar..” he chuckled softly before looking down, realizing that it probably wasn't the best thing to say at that moment.

It was possibly the most awkward encounter you two have ever had. Neither could speak, focusing on typing some documents and whatnot. You would look up occasionally at him, noticing his little habits and knowing he never changed one bit. He still tapped his lips gently when he was thinking (one of his cutest habits in your opinion).

That was until you decided to speak up rather quietly and cautiously.

“Do you remember now?”

He looked up at you, unsure of what to say. He couldn't say he did, because he didn't. All he had was a feeling. A magnetic pull toward you that he couldn't avoid.

“No,” he said softly as he shook his head.

“What are you nervous about?”

“Nervous? I'm not nervous…”

“You fiddle with your ring when you're nervous.”

He looked down at his hands, unknowingly fiddling with his rose gold ring. He was slightly surprised by your observation, not knowing that you'd known him long enough to memorize his every habit.

The conversation died as quickly as it began, the two of you going back to working again. He could tell you seemed uneasy and uncertain. The last thing he wanted to do was to make you uncomfortable.

“Do you want me to go?” He asked. He didn't seem like he wanted to leave but, if he did, it would mean he'd leave forever.

You thought for a few seconds before speaking.

“I want to start over.”

There's that familiar warmth in Jake's heart every time he sees you in the café. You greeted him with a warm smile, now on your second meeting.

You had somehow agreed to completely wipe the slate clean. You thought to yourself that you would never know if he still loved you unless you went through everything all over again. Life had given you a reset button, and who were you to deny it?

Sure you would grow a little impatient here and there but you constantly reminded yourself that you're taking it easy for his sake. To him, you're a familiar stranger even though he's the love of your life. You pretended to learn about habits and hobbies and interests you already knew.

It felt like you were falling in love again. He was just as beautiful, funny, and smart as he was when you first dated. His hangouts were just as sweet as before.

You watched him with fondness in your eyes as he'd cover his mouth with one hand while he laughed. His adorable laughter rang through your ears like a soothing tune.

The hangouts turned into weeks of courting and into months of dating.

Everyone was thrilled to know you two were back together again. But the uncertainty of whether he wanted to marry you or not still hung over your head. He seemed to have given up on remembering, making a scrapbook of new memories of you two.

And just when you thought it couldn't get any better, he proposed once more. He'd gotten a new ring to replace the one that haunted you at times. He'd moved back in with you, filling the house with his radiant warmth and turning it into a home once more.

Time went by so quickly that you couldn't believe you were back in the same position as a few years ago. Standing in a white dress with a bouquet of origami orange flowers, which Jake picked and hand-made.

Walking down the aisle and clutching onto your bouquet, it all felt like a dream. Your future husband waiting for you at the altar with the biggest smile on his face, surrounded by the people you love most. Everything was finally coming true, all because you took the chance to let it all begin again.

I feel like the ending is a little rushed I am so sorry😭😭

#enhypen angst #enhypen jake #enhypen scenarios #jake enhypen fic #enhypen fic #enhypen jake angst #enhypen fluff #enhypen jake fluff #enhypen au #enhypen headcanons #enhypen imagines

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yanderecrazysie · 1 month

Text

Falsify (Yandere Kita)

This was requested in pms on Quotev!

Title: Falsify

Pairings: Kita Shinsuke x Reader

WARNINGS: Yandere themes, amnesiac reader

Summary: You find yourself stricken with amnesia, but thankfully your loving husband is there for you.

falsify

/verb/

alter (information or evidence) so as to mislead

When you awoke, there was a certain blankness that you felt inside. You didn’t know where you were or even who you were.

The room you were in was small, only really fitting the bed you were lying on and an armchair next to it. The bed was soft, and you found yourself wondering who you shared it with, if there was anyone at all. You lifted your head from the pillow and winced- pain ripped through your head, making you lie back down and let out a soft cry.

You raised a hand to your head and found bandages wrapped around it. So you had been injured? Was that why you couldn’t remember anything?

The door to the room creaked open suddenly and you jumped in surprise. A man poked his head into the room, his white-and-black hair framing worried brown eyes.

“(Y/n), how are you doing?” his voice was hesitant and quiet, as though he expected you to start yelling at him.

“(Y/n)? Is that my name?” you muttered, pressing your hand against the bandages around your head again. The man’s eyes widened and his mouth parted in shock.

“You… you don’t remember?” he asked, “Do you remember me?”

“No, I’m sorry…” you apologized, “I don’t remember anything.”

The man was quiet for a moment before explaining, “I’m your husband, Kita. You fell down the stairs and hit your head. I was so worried, I thought you had-” he choked up, eyes flooding with tears.

“I’m married?” you wondered, “But I don’t have a ring.”

“It must have fallen off,” Kita said, reaching for your hand, “If I can’t find it, I’ll get you a new one.”

You couldn’t help but notice his ring finger was bare too.

—----------------------

Kita was a doting husband, that much you could admit. He had found the ring that had fallen off your finger and, by God, it had a huge diamond.

He cooked every meal for you, bought you gifts, and took such good care of you. There was only one downside to your relationship with him.

He never let you leave the house.

You offered to go shopping with him, begged him to let you be a part of society once more, but he always had an excuse. Even though your head had healed, he insisted on you “resting”. Which basically meant staying in your room for eternity.

“Why won’t you let me leave the house, Kita?” you asked, swirling your fork through the scrambled eggs he had served for breakfast.

Kita was quiet, sitting across the oak wood table, watching you closely.

“It’s not like I’m going to run away,” you joked. Kita stiffened for a moment before relaxing.

“I know you won’t,” he responded, but offered no explanation, as always. You sighed and slid down in your seat, pushing your half-eaten meal to the side.

Kita frowned at your disappointment, “You know I love you, don’t you?”

“I love you too,” you replied, the words feeling foreign on your tongue, despite the number of times you had said it. He really was an amazing husband, even if he wouldn’t let you leave, so who were you to argue? Everyone had their flaws, Kita’s was just being a little possessive, right?

“Our anniversary is next week,” Kita said, “I was thinking we could go on a vacation.”

“Out of the house?” you gasped.

“Out of the house,” Kita confirmed with a smile. You beamed back at him, he really was the perfect husband.

To Kita, your amnesia was the best thing that had ever happened. Before your accident while trying to escape, you had been so disobedient and furious that he had kidnapped you. Now, you truly believed that the two of you were married, when that wasn’t the case at all.

All he had to do was reward you every once in a while, and you’d stick by his side forever, wouldn’t you? You’d believe his lie because he was all you had.

He could pretend to be the good guy, the loving, doting husband, when the truth was that he was a monster that had torn you away from everything you once knew.

Not that you’d ever find out, if he had his way.

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere one shot #yandere haikyuu #yandere kita

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juminsmysticmc · 11 months

Note

How will de RFA react to them calling them husband/wife before marriage. I like your writing 🫶🏻

RFA reacting to a Mc calling them Husband/ wife before Marriage

I did it again - I forgot about my own blog. I am so sorry :( but here you are, cutie! Hope you like it just as much as I did!

Jumin

,,But really, I still wonder why the heck you guys got married so quickly,’’ Zen asked, sighting as he sat opposite you at the round table.

The RFA wanted to meet up for a private meeting, organized by you.

,,I can answer this,’’ Jaehee said, her eyes were on fire as she lifted up her lenses.

,,Because our lovely Mc,’’ her palm directed towards you ,,in an interview named Mr Han ,,my husband’’ and guess who liked the ring of it,’’ she smiled, she was there when it happened.

You answered a question and named Jumin instead of fiancé ,,my husband’’ but quickly corrected to ,,fiancé’’ - something Jumin disliked.

He was proud and excited to be named your husband, he loved the moment so deeply and Jaehee still had his bright, happy smile in front of her eyes, as well as his facial expression when you corrected yourself.

And since he liked the ring of his soon-to-be name, he wanted to rush things.

Jumin’s hand was entangled in yours, remembering that day brought memories up and he truly felt blessed.

Zen nodded at Jaehee’s explanation.

,,Mc, were you even okay with it?’’ he asked you, wondering if you even were allowed to decide anything in that marriage.

,,Yes, Jumin wouldn’t let me sleep in his bed beside him, I was craving for more and so I was happy over the rush,’’ you answered, making Zen choke.

Jumin - your husband - was even prouder now.

Zen

,,Zenny, you are so cuteeee!’’ you laughed, you were laying on top of him, both of you cuddling and wrestling softly.

,,You are my cutie, princess. But don’t name me Zen or Zenny, let me be your Hy-’’

,,Husband? Oppa?’’ you asked him, looking deep into his red eyes.

Zen had to process what you just said.

You named him Husband.

His face turned red, glowing and burning.

He was getting embarrassed but slowly smiled.

Hearing that out of your mouth gave him a new ring, and he liked it.

,,Oh, sorry, you wanted to say Hyun, didn’t you? Of course I will,’’ you smiled and gave him a kiss on his soft lips.

,,Now I am embarassed that I called you like that,’’ you laughed, turning red on your own.

You quickly hid your face between his neck and his shoulder and hugged him stronger.

,,Please, just forget it,’’ you begged him, sighing.

But Zen couldn’t think of anything else than your words, than the meaning which was held into the word ,,Husband’’.

And now you would name him Hyun…

,,Hello, I called earlier, I am here to see your engaged rings,’’ Zen said the next day to the lady in the jewelry shop.

No way he was going to make you call him Hyun instead of Oppa.

He wanted an upgrade now.

Yoosung

,,Seven years,’’ Yoosung sighed, giving your hand a squeeze.

,,Yes, seven years, I can’t believe, that we already have been married for so long,’’ you chuckled.

Suddenly you remembered something ,,Remember, when I came to the hospital while lunch break and asked your co-worker about your whereabouts?’’ you asked him, of course, he remembered.

,,Yes, you asked about your husband, even though we still weren’t married,’’ he smirked.

And everyone was angry with me that I didn’t tell them I was married,’’ he told you, remembering how embarrassed but happy he was when someone finally found him and told him that you, his wife, were waiting for you, only to find you with a similar redhead.

And in that very moment, Yoosung made a decision - as soon as he had his day off, he wanted to buy you a well-deserved engagement ring.

Jaehee

It was a hard day, after a shift of so many hours on your legs, your head was empty.

The shop was booming, of course both of you, Jaehee and you, were thankful for that.

However, you still had your challenges to keep it up.

It was almost closing time when your friends Yoosung and Zen entered the coffee shop, ready to eat the last pieces of cakes that wouldn’t be sold anymore - probably.

Actually, Yoosung was going to bring some to his family since neither of you wanted to throw them away.

When Yoosung wanted to give you at least a bit of money, you shook your head.

,,Even my wifey said no, so take it!’’ you laughed.

Everyone stopped breathing, Yoosung and Zen both looked at your hand, eyes glued on your ringless finger while Jaehee’s cheeks slowly turned red.

,,Wifey?’’ she asked you.

However, you didn’t realize what you just said.

,,Wifey?’’ you repeated, making Jaehee turn even deeper in red.

The four of you were laughing, while you were denying your own words, Zen and Yoosung tried to assure you, that you just named her your wife.

And Jaehee was trying - of course in secret - to find out if she still had your ring size from the latest jewelry order to ask you to become her real wife…

Saeyoung

If someone would have told him that he would have pushed you from the couch for saying something cute, he would have shown that person his middle finger.

But he couldn’t because he was currently pressing a cold ice pack on your throbbing head while his arm was holding your waist.

,,I am so sorry,’’ he whispered, little kisses on your wet cheek.

You were crying because of the pain, but you knew, that he didn’t mean it.

You were still in pain though.

,,I will never call you Oppa or Hubby,’’ you groaned, giving him a side-eye.

He smiled apologetically.

,,My hand moved on it’s own, of course, I loved it when you named me ,,Hubby’’...

But I was so embarrassed…I just wanted to push you lightly, I didn’t mean to make you fall,’’ he confessed.

You rolled your eyes.

,,I know. But I would like to get a pre-divorce,’’ you kept teasing him.

Of course, the little pain you were having was gone in a few hours but still, Saeyoung kept thinking a lot and a lot about this incident.

He was thinking of a way of preventing something like this again and his only way was making it real - he had to become your real-life husband.

ᗰᗩᔕTEᖇᒪIᔕT

21.05.2023 // 11:56 MEST

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abibliophobiaa · 1 year

Text

Beyond — s.h. x f!reader

Chapter Three: Marry Me, Today and Every Day

a/n: here’s chapter three of my purely self-indulgent fun, which shouldn’t be taken very seriously, if at all fic. haha. wanted to play around with one of my favorite tropes, so here we are with modern day!rich!fake husband!steve harrington x afab!reader. next chapter we get down to business, and maybe things will start to take a turn for these two. who is to say? also--the book r is reading is an actual fanfic by @blueywrites that you most definitely should check out. haha. just a fun little easter egg.

warnings/tags: hugely unedited (10k words); mentions of alcohol; parent loss, both parties; r has a sister and father; smut in later chapters, so 18+, minors dni; additional tags to be added.

masterlist

Sweat slicks your palms. Brings an awareness to every inch of your body as you pace around your bridal suite. Fear permeates every nerve ending. Sets them alight with a new sort of panic. This daunting, unrelenting, overwhelming knowledge that in less than an hour you’ll be a wife.

In less than an hour, you’ll be the new Mrs. Steve Harrington.

A Harrington.

Married to a man who you barely know, and yet his is the name you splutter out when your father asks what you need, noticing the staggering rise and fall of your chest, palm over your sternum where your heart races beneath.

The room clears out then. Faces pass in your peripheral vision, all varying degrees of worry lining them. Whispers, you’re certain, from your soon to be mother-in-law and Steve’s grandmother, over if you’re getting cold feet.

And it’s not that.

Not really.

You’ve resigned yourself to the understanding that this is what’s best for right now. Marrying Steve pays for your student debt, which gives you the liberty to find work in the interim while finishing up veterinarian school, and thus aids in assisting your father in taking care of what he needs to.

With money not being a worry in your mind, all your efforts can be in assisting the man who gave you life and lost his own love too soon. All your efforts can be put into that little girl with fire in her eyes and love in every inch of her bones—even when she’s trying to hide it in her cell phone, on social media, or scrolling through TikTok. It’s a sacrifice you don’t have any lingering regrets over.

He stands there in his tuxedo and wire frame glasses, hair styled back to perfection in a way that’s still so strikingly him, and yet elevated in a way you’ve not seen him before. Your head photographer, Jonathan, waves the rest of his crew out of the room when he realizes you’ll be needing a moment, the rest of the bodies filling the space finally slipping out of the room one by one until it’s just the two of you remaining.

“Wow,” he breathes out, swiping his palms against the front of the black tux, eyes roving your form. “You look—wow.”

“I, ah, thank you.” You allow your eyes to trail his form. The head to toe dress attire, the effortlessness in which he holds himself. Handsome, disturbingly so, and he never acts like he’s fully aware of the effect he has. “You clean up well, Mr. Harrington.”

He chuckles and suddenly you’re just a girl, and he’s just a boy, standing in a room together, taking in one another. It’s a slow perusal. Him, handsome as ever, in all black, save for the little floral arrangement on his chest that mirrors the one you’ll be carrying when you walk down the aisle, the glasses he’s wearing for the evening, and the gold watch around his wrist.

“Are you okay?”

He steps closer, hand extending slightly before it drops back to his side. Like he thinks better of it, like he doesn’t feel right about being near to you. It’s been that way since your bachelorette party. Since the moment he kissed you and forgot that next morning. The look in his eye when he stated plainly he didn’t remember much at all about the moment where you wondered, if only briefly, that there might be something more to this arrangement than two people entering a business deal.

From that moment on, he’d made himself very busy, and you spoke little. Figured it was likely better that way. No way to muddle the lines established in your fake marriage. Better now than when you’re deeper into the arrangement, and delusion might have arisen.

But now, in this moment, you need that nearness. Crave the touch of the only other person who understands what you’re going through. The only other person who appreciates the depth of the nervousness pooling in your belly. Circling around your heart like a vice. Clawing at your lungs to leave you breathless.

“I’m just nervous,” you admit, trying to keep the frustrated tears at bay by inhaling deeply. He moves closer, thumb brushing along your right hand to where you’ve moved your engagement ring until after the ceremony when it’s joined by your wedding ring. “We’re doing something absolutely insane.”

“Completely,” he agrees, and those fingers drag along the inside of your palm. Your fingers reflexively tighten around his, comforting warmth seeping into flesh. “But you can say the word and I’ll call it off now.”

“You’ll let me be a runaway bride?”

It’s a watery laugh that prompts Steve to grip your other palm in hand as well, giving both a gentle squeeze. Your eyes wander downward to the two tethers anchoring you to earth in this moment, then to the kind face of the man who is to be your husband in minutes.

“Just say the word and I’ll come up with an excuse why it couldn’t happen.”

“No. No. I’m marrying you today, Steve.”

He blows out an exhale. A stray hair falls down into his eyes at the motion, and your fingers hesitantly reach up to push at it. His stare pierces you, hazel eyes warm as you card your fingers through dark locks, feeling them shift and move beneath your fingertips, impossibly soft and lush.

Gently, ever so gently the hand curling in your right one loosens and circles your wrist like a bracelet. Rests briefly over your frantic pulse point, before trailing along the back of your arm. Faint brushes of skin back and forth, back and forth, loosening that breath presently hitched tight in your chest.

“How about this,” he begins, eyes darting to where gooseflesh starts to prickle along your skin. You chalk it up to the AC unit in the bridal suite, meant to block out the heat of the city in summer. “When you walk down the aisle, you only look at me. Don’t look at anyone else, okay? It’s just you and me out there, no one else matters. Eyes on me.”

“Okay.”

A long exhale leaves your mouth. Lungs deflate with the deepest breath in what feels like hours now. Steve’s fingers extricate themselves from yours in those moments of quiet, footfalls of his leather shoes clacking along the floor as he makes his way over to the door. His hand curls around metal when your voice breaks into the resounding silence, quiet and minuscule for you, and you loathe to admit there are nerves that still cling to every fiber of your being over what you’re about to do in front of hundreds of literal strangers.

“Steve.”

It’s simple. But he turns quickly, barely opens his mouth to speak when you rush forward and wind your arms around his waist. And there’s no protest. No argument as broad arms twine around your waist. As they rest low against your back, radiating warmth and comfort.

He remains like that, quiet and steadfast, until you’re both ready. Until you lace your fingers with him and he leads you to where your father stands ready to walk you down the aisle. He hands you off to the older man, rests a comforting palm on his father-in-law’s shoulder and dips his head once. Tips his head in your direction and offers you a kind smile.

“Eyes on me,” he reminds you.

“Eyes on you.”

So it begins.

There’s a ring on Steve’s finger. You notice it as you sit beside him at your sweetheart table, as strangers and friends alike offer you congratulations and greetings in support of your nuptials.

Because you’re married now. Freshly Mrs. Harrington.

In a whirlwind of emotion, you’d walked down the aisle onto that beautifully lit private rooftop. Admired only briefly the weeks of wedding planning spent with your new mother-in-law and followed Steve’s directions.

Eyes on him to block out your surroundings, eyes on him to ignore the shutter of Jonathan’s camera, of the other photographers milling about. Eyes on him as you heard the audible sniffles of Steve’s family and your own. Eyes on him as the officiant had you recite words that would bind you to Steve as you slid rings on each other's fingers. Empty words that felt like ash on your tongue. Nearly choked you as you spoke them out loud in front of hundreds of people. Declarations of a devoted love shared between kindred spirits wanting to spend the rest of their lives together.

And you’d kept your eyes on him as you were declared husband and wife, as your new name was announced to that rooftop gathering, as they’d announced Steve could now ‘kiss the bride.’

He’d been warm and welcome. Lips brushed against yours with a gentleness that had your head spinning, stomach swooping low in your belly. When he leaned back to take you in, his palm, the one where his new wedding band sat, cupped your face. To others, a sign of affection. To you, a reminder that it was only you two up there. Even as he leaned down and pressed his forehead to yours, as the room erupted into applause, and he whispered to you.

“Keep looking at me until we get back inside, okay?”

A simple sentence. A comforting command meant to quiet your fears with the sound of his voice and the touch of his hand against yours.

Now you sit in a romantically lit room, all atmospheric blues dancing along the walls draped in white with your new first initial of your last name highlighted on the dance floor. Beside you, Steve chats enthusiastically with a man and woman, who offer you remarks on your appearance. It’s all you’ve heard all evening. Comments on your new marriage, how beautiful you look, how happy everyone is for you two.

You find it eases that tension, helps you settle in against your chair, still holding your husband’s hand as you sip daintily at a glass of champagne. That and Steve’s constantly checking in on you, making sure you’re okay, offering to grab you another drink despite the fact wait staff quite literally answers your every beck and call. There’s a gratitude toward him that rests behind your ribs, an appreciation regardless of the confusing few days you’ve had as of late with him.

Your husband who is not. A man you share a name with and only that. Who you signed paperwork with and will be heading off on a honeymoon with come morning. A man whom you’ll be sleeping in a separate bed from tonight, when most would assume you will be consummating your marriage. There’s none of that, only a pre-planned understanding.

Agreements, plans, business deals.

Before your mind can venture any further, the Emcee announces your first dance as husband and wife. You’ve almost forgotten about this part in all your planning. Never really thought beyond the kiss at the altar. Even so, Steve’s cupping your hand and leading you into the center of the dance floor where a giant ‘H’ is emblazoned below, drawing you near to him in an embrace as the song begins and you’re swaying back and forth in the arms of your husband.

“I’m scared to death that she might be it, that the love is real, that the shoe might fit.”

“People are staring,” you point out, curling your hands around the back of his neck, resting your head on his shoulder.

“Today is our day,” he laughs against the top of your head. Warm breath puffs along your skin, shiver tingling your spine. “I think you've forgotten. Everyone is here to celebrate us.”

“She might just be my everything and beyond. Beyond.”

“You’re my husband.”

He chuckles again, chest rumbling near your ear as you sway, his broad hands against your hips, tugging you closer.

“Guess that makes you my wife, huh?”

“Space and time in the afterlife. Will she have my kids? Will she be my wife?”

Your nose wrinkles at the newness of your title. Wife. Wife. You’re someone’s wife now. And he’s your husband. Husband. You mouth the word once more silently to yourself, finding it unusual, tongue stumbling over it, and snort into his suit.

That hand around your right hip tightens. “Something funny?” he asks, but there’s a levity in his tone that has your mouth jolting upward at the corners.

“Just…this day.”

“I know,” he agrees, voice growing softer as he adds, “people are also staring because you are beautiful, you know?

“Steve.”

“It’s true.”

“Thank you,” you whisper, pressing closer to him.

“I know this day has been…stressful for you, but you’re not alone. There’s two of us now.”

“She might just be my everything and beyond.”

Your head tips back at his words, feeble mind stumbling momentarily over his compliment, heart thumping as you say, “Like a team.”

He grins. “Exactly like that. We’re the Harringtons now.”

“The Harringtons.”

The name falls easily from your lips, but your quiet conversation is disrupted by the clanging of glasses about the room. Silverware all around the room taps against the delicate surfaces, a continuous tinkering around you both that has Steve’s mouth parting slightly. The pink of his tongue swipes briefly across his bottom lip before he closes it once more, lines of his throat bobbing on a swallow.

“They want us to kiss,” you tell him, sliding one palm down from where it rests around his neck until it curves around the edge of his jaw. You tip his head your way slightly, eyes scouring face. “And will probably be wanting us to do so all night. So…guess we might as well put on our best show, huh?”

It continues for the duration of the evening. Kiss after kiss bestowed by your husband. Constant expected affection. His fingers laced between your own, your hand on his thigh, his head on your shoulder, lips at your temple, lips on yours. Over and over again for hours. This time in a way that the slight buzz you have from your champagne could never erase—from either of your minds.

The evening itself becomes fun. Music changes and you’re brought onto the dance floor with your new husband and the friends from your hometown, as well as the ones he’s made along the way. Strangers who become dance partners. Bodies twirling and swirling along the floor, hands tangling with hands, laughter pulling from your lips. Like this, with Robin and Eddie’s forms near to your own, you feel lighter. Like this, when the song changes and you sing the words out loud in a silly rush with Steve in the center as those around you egg you on, you allow yourself to let go. To be free. To enjoy the evening that is about you and Steve.

Before long your feet are aching. Heels are discarded beneath you at your table, hand in Steve’s once more, as your closest friends give speeches. For Steve, it’s a rushed flurry of words from Robin. She speaks mostly to the closeness they’ve developed in the short time they’ve been friends, but a bond that has easily etched deep between the two of them. Speaks of your time as her roommate, about how she’d only been kidding when she said maybe you should get out there and start dating and quickly fall in love with her friend. Laughs easily when she says maybe she should have introduced them sooner.

It almost feels real, the words she speaks—the words Eddie speaks as he grabs the microphone and draws it close to his lips. He ties his hair back quickly, sweat from dancing clinging to the bangs dancing along his brow, and he clears his throat. Unrolls a piece of paper that’s on the tiniest scroll you’ve ever seen, but rolls all the way down to the floor when he unfurls it. The room bursts into enthusiastic laughter, your chest aching in adoration at the first words he speaks.

“You see…before I knew Steve, I knew his new wife. We grew up together in some shit hole town—I can curse, right? Sorry for all the kids here. Anyway, we grew up together…as I was saying. So when she asked me if I’d still love her if she did something stupid, I was thinking she meant a prank. Steve, just a heads up, your wife is a menace. A total damn menace. But I'm sure you knew that already.” He pauses for a moment as Steve chuckles, nodding his head in agreement, then continues, “And then she goes and falls in love with this guy. Big boy Harrington.”

Another round of laughter echoes in the room, and Steve grips your hand tighter in his where it rests against his lap.

“Pretty stupid, huh?” He chuckles to himself, folding the microphone against his waist for a moment as he bows, thanking the crowd for their involvement. “But it’s not that stupid when I really think about it. Because these two are some of the best people I know. Really and truly, and it makes sense that we’re all here right now. Right here in this room. Two people like this are meant to find each other. Drawn together by some…cosmic force. I mean, look at them! Have you ever seen two people so in love?”

The room leans in. Swells with emotion as Eddie sniffles audibly. This part, you know, is part of his speech. He’d read it to the two of you the night before, just as Robin had. Those around you don’t know, but you do. And still, your guests are nodding in agreement. Some are dabbing napkins into the corners of their eyes, swallowing down knots of emotion welling in their throats. Your own father glances your way with a fondness that cleaves you down the center, ears ringing as Eddie continues the rest of his speech, filling the cavity with guilt.

Clapping hands draw you from your silent reverie, followed only by the sound of metal meeting glass once more. The sound of your heart pounding in your ears as Steve slides a hand along the side of your face and leans down for the umpteenth time that evening, stilling your mind with the glide of his mouth against your own.

Soon enough, the bouquet has been tossed, the garter awkwardly collected from your thigh, and cake has been shared between the two of you, sugary remnants that linger in Steve’s hair (a mental note made to never mess with his hair ever again upon fear of death in your marriage) still visible as guest stand on either side of an aisle outside where a car is waiting for the two of you, lit sparklers dancing to life in their hands.

Your eyes meet his. “Ready to go?”

He grips your hand. “We’re in the home stretch now.”

Seventeen hours.

Seventeen hours is what it takes for you to arrive in the Maldives. Plus the time spent traversing you two across the main private island to your smaller bungalow only accessible by boat. You’ve barely had time to take in the beautiful sights, tiredness clinging to every limb, by the time the two of you are deposited on a dock leading to the place you’ll be staying for the next five days.

Steve clambers down onto the wood beside you, his own form looking a little worse for wear. He’s not spoken in quite some time. Neither of you have, really. Not since you returned to your penthouse after the wedding and slipped out of your wedding clothes. Nor when you parted down opposite ends of the hall. Even at the airport your conversation had been simple, pleasant, easy chatter about the weather and what you might do when you get to the island.

“Look how beautiful!” You enthuse, taking in the beautiful thatched roof of your private honeymoon suite on the water.

Pretty purple light douses the building, casts that same hue across the surface of the lagoon that laps against the edges of the boardwalk. From where you're standing, you can see another pathway leading to an outdoor gazebo and dining area draped in flowing cream curtains that billow in the gentle caress of the breeze around you.

You turn to look at your husband. “Wanna go explore?”

He yawns, head dipping as your guide lingers behind on the boat, wishing you two a lovely first evening on your honeymoon. Inside you’re met with a beautiful living room with sliding glass doors that lead to a deck, fully stocked with a jacuzzi, pool, and a sunken outdoor bath. Tired bones scream at the prospect of using them, though you proceed further into the suite. There’s a beautiful kitchen with the option of a private chef, a gym, an indoor spa you know you’ll be utilizing, the master bathroom with a tub that looks like it could fit ten people, and finally…the master bedroom.

The suddenness of your realization dawns, because your eyes immediately hone in on the one bed. A king bed, but only one all the same. You’re tired, you’re so tired that all you want is to peel back the covers and clamber in, but this throws a wrench into those plans. That clarity must also hit Steve, because he’s dropping his things to the ground and walking around the side of the bed to grip a pillow in hand, and begins making his way toward the entrance of the bedroom when you splutter audibly.

“Where are you going?”

He cards his fingers through his hair, exasperation lining those withdrawn features. “There’s a couch I saw in the living room.”

You shake your head, reaching out to cup his bicep. It instantly tenses under your fingertips. You don’t dwell on it, and instead argue, “You’re going to kill your back. We’re here for five days. We’re adults…we can share a bed.”

It’ll be like a sleepover. An adult sleepover where no sex is involved. Definitely not on your honeymoon—and definitely not with the man you married nearly twenty-four hours ago who you know very little about. You don’t know his birthday, his likes, dislikes…you don’t even know his favorite color, his favorite show, or if he’s a dog or cat person. Sleeping in the same bed as him will be a cake walk. Nothing to even worry about. A mere blip on the radar.

“I just…I don’t want…” He exhales deeply, and you finally notice the dark circles under his eyes. “You’ve already done enough by uprooting your life and marrying me—”

“It’s a bed, Steve.”

That seems to quiet the tension in his shoulders. They drop into a slouch, his form trailing back over to the side of the bed facing the wall when you clear your throat, awkward laugh breaking into the otherwise silent room.

“I like to sleep facing the wall,” you say gently, noticing the slight downturn of his lips. “But I’m assuming you do as well, so for the sake of both of our sanities I can sleep facing the door.”

He shakes his head vehemently. “No. No, I’ll take the door side. I can handle a few nights.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, I’m sure. Happy wife, happy life, right?”

Your lip twitches upward. “You don’t snore, do you?” You ask teasingly.

“I…don't think so. But I’m sure you’ll tell me if I do,” he says, moving himself around the bed once more. He settles down against the mattress, testing the surface beneath his palm. “Bed is soft.”

“I would hope it would be for a private honeymoon villa. Your mother really went all out, huh?”

Your head tilts upward, taking in the vaulted ceilings. Where you’re standing you can even hear the sound of water lapping on the deck outside your windows.

“Pretty sure she’s secretly hoping I extend the Harrington line this week.”

Your nose wrinkles at that. “We’re absolutely making a pillow wall after that comment.”

“I’m joking,” he grumbles, body falling backward onto the bed.

One thing you’ve learned about Steve Harrington? He’s dramatic—impossibly so. Sort of like Robin, though he’s more frustrated outbursts versus her nervous or frantic ones.

“Pillow. Wall.”

“Fine.”

You walk over to the bed where your husband lays with his eyes closed and forearm strewn over his face. Bare knees brushing his, you reach out and tug on his free hand splayed near his hip, trying to drag him upward to no avail.

“Stop being a big baby.”

“We just flew for seventeen hours,” he argues, sitting upright.

“Steve. Lift your hulking ass off the bed. The sooner you get up, the sooner we go to bed.”

Your new husband grumbles to himself as he stands to his feet, helping you pull down the comforter on the top of the bed. Satisfied, you pluck a few of the extra pillows and make a line down the center of the mattress, pointing out your side and his, before slipping into the bathroom to get ready for bed.

You follow your normal routine. Wash your face, brush your teeth, slip on a moisturizer. You change out of your clothes next, opting for a matching set of shorts and a tank top, before tossing your street clothes into a laundry bin and sliding into your “Bride” slippers given as a gift by one of your friends at your bachelorette.

There’s a brief moment your eyes trail to the shower, where there’s glass paneling and a bench in the corner and then further to your right toward the gigantic bath tub you could practically swim in…and huff. Such a strange thing to be in this beautiful honeymoon hideaway with a man down the hall who regards you as a friend.

The same friend you now share a last name with.

Pushing the thoughts aside, you meander back down the hall to your bedroom for the next five days and come to find Steve laying on his stomach with his broad back on display, sheets hung low around his waist. You can map the various freckles and marks along his skin from where he rests, head resting on his forearm.

Smiling to yourself, you settle down into the bed and roll over to shut the lamp nearest your side of the bed. The room descends into darkness, and you whisper, “Goodnight,” before following him into sleep.

Pristine blue water surrounds you as far as the eye can see. The world is quiet from your home away from home for the week, save for the rustle of your book pages turning as you progress through the story and the sound of Steve’s fingers clacking across a keyboard. You exhale with a long huff, pushing your sunglasses higher up on the bridge of your nose.

Steve’s been working for hours now.

Since you both woke up, really.

Initially you had been a little miffed as you cooked up something for the two of you in your large kitchen, opting out of calling for a private chef to do so, and he pulled out his phone and laptop. You figured that was fine, up until the headphones went in while you sat down across from him and ended up sharing your breakfast in complete and utter silence.

On its own, that wasn’t so much an issue. What bothered you was your request to go outside and enjoy the sun together, and he’d agreed. In your mind, his intentions were genuinely to spend time with you. He’d slipped into a bathing suit and everything, only to join you on the sun deck with his leather work bag, laptop pulled out before you could even get in a word of protest.

“You know, most people enjoy their honeymoon,” you tease, turning the page in your book.

You find yourself needing to take a break anyway. The two couples in your book are on vacation themselves, and the main character kissed the dark haired hero on the makeshift dance floor after one of the hottest dancing scenes you’ve ever read occurred. And seeing as your own honeymoon is not heating up, you’re frustrated.

Increasingly so when he says, “This isn’t a typical honeymoon.”

“Weren’t you trying to wrap up the business before we came here?”

You recall a conversation you had wherein he said as much about wanting to make sure he’d be able to partake in the Maldives, but it seems those words were rang untrue.

“Yes, but…things happen.”

Your book thumps onto the lounger beside you. “You do realize everyone thinks we’re on a real honeymoon, right?”

He dips his head, sunglasses sliding down the bridge of his nose as he glances over the top of his laptop to glance your way.

“Your coworkers are going to be confused why you’re logged in for work while you’re here. I mean—look how romantic this place is!”

“I’m not following…”

Huffing, you curl your legs beneath you, shifting your body toward him. “You’re supposed to be…you know, giving me attention every hour of the day while we’re here. Ravishing me. Going at it like—non-stop. It’s supposed to be overly romantic. Flowers on the bed, sexy showers, no sleep, naked trysts in the kitchen—”

“Fine.” He shuts the laptop. Tucks it away in his leather bag. “I’m logging off. Happy?”

You grin enthusiastically. “Very, husband.”

Steve disappears inside for a moment, then appears once more with his phone in hand. You’re about to argue with him when he shows you he’s playing a game of solitaire—which you snort at, shoving him when his eyes roll—and slip your sunglasses back on over your eyes. Opening your book, Steve pushes at the back cover, leaning in close to try and read the short description on the back of what lingers inside the dog-eared pages.

“What are you reading, wife?” You catch the slight uptick of his lip; the smirk he tries to hide.

Conversation. Small talk. You can work with that. “To Know You’re Mine.”

He tucks his phone near his thigh. “What’s it about?”

“Swingers.”

“That’s very vague,” he points out. “Can you give me a little more than just ‘swingers?’”

Your brow arches. “Do you really care?”

“No, I’m asking because I’m bored.”

Shifting your chairs closer to one another, you flip the book over so he can see the front cover and start pointing out the little cartoon characters on the nondescript covers on shelves everywhere nowadays.

“So there’s these two who are dating, right? Have been for a long time. But it’s her first boyfriend and they live together. Then one day, he takes her to his friend’s show. And that’s where you then meet these two characters. Just so happens, they start swinging and…well, it gets really crazy. Do you want me to tell you the rest? I’m about…halfway.”

He nods his head and you explain the entirety of the plot so far. And maybe your honeymoon isn’t perfect, maybe jet lag kicks in and Steve starts to nod off right around the time you start explaining the chapter you’re up to, and maybe you have to nudge him to come inside so he doesn’t get sunburned.

Maybe you watch him as he lays down on the living room couch and you drape a blanket over his slumbering form. Maybe you settle down on another couch and roll over onto your side to look at him, your book long discarded on the coffee table. Maybe you allow yourself to roam his features, so much younger than his twenty-seven years when he’s resting like this—when he doesn’t have a whole company on his shoulders.

Maybe you close your eyes too and join him.

Suffering from jet lag, your first day is spent mostly lounging around. Sleeping off the long trip you’ve taken to get to where you are. Steve sits on his couch near you, and you sit bundled in blankets on the couch opposite. You watch reality TV, a show where couples pair up in a villa and try to make romantic connections, and scroll through social media. Allow yourself to click through different stories from your friends accounts, glance at the few articles printed, and scour the comments beneath regarding your recent wedding.

TikTok is blowing up with videos of you and Steve photographed with Eddie. You are in your wedding gown and Steve is beside you, hand in yours. He looks happy. Genuinely happy in a way that has you smiling over to where he sits, hazel eyes drifting your way curiously. You don’t even know how they got access to them in the first place, and likely don’t even want to know.

Overall, it seems like most are impressed and craving more photos. Wanting the inside scoop on the famous Corroded Coffin member’s best friends. No one seems to question the validity of the marriage, though there are questions as to why so quickly, but are snuffed out by those who make note that it isn’t like the two of you haven’t been in the same social circles for some time now. That it was a matter of time before the two of you realized love was always there, right in front of the both of you, and all you needed to do was reach out and grasp it.

By the next morning, you’re both awake and ready to take on the day, ordering a boat to the main island for your spa day. The prospect of a massage after the weeks spent planning your wedding sounds lovely, and you tell Steve as much, leaning into his frame as your guide asks how the first day of your honeymoon was.

“Amazing,” you gush, though you spent another night with a mountain of pillows between you and the man beside you. The only reason you’re close now is because they’re watching your interactions, gauging the newlyweds. “It’s so beautiful here.”

And that’s that, until you arrive at the spa booked for a private afternoon with your new husband, compliments of your new mother-in-law and the travel agent she’d worked alongside to make sure your accommodations were all you could ever dream of.

The only detail left out on your itinerary was the fact it was a nude spa. Fully. Part of some “bonding exercise” as the attendant explained before the two of you entered the hot spring, freshly massaged and draped in the coziest of robes to ever grace your skin.

You’re left alone with Steve in a darkened room warmed by the steam rising from the water’s surface, eyes dragging along his presently clothed form.

“I’ve seen your chest? You sleep shirtless, which…I mean, is fine. And uh…you’ve seen me in a bikini. It’s kind of like that, no?”

“Except now we’ll be naked.”

“Well, there’s that.”

“Yeah, that.”

“I mean, it’s not that serious. No cause for alarm bells,” you say, trying to ease the tension rolling off of Steve’s shoulders in waves. “I mean, you could always turn around and I can get in first. Just…eyes above the water level only.”

Steve rubs a hand along the back of his neck, nodding slowly. “Yeah. Sure. Okay, you go first.”

He doesn’t move for a moment, and you rush over the small deck to turn him around so he’s facing the wall. With his back turned, you untie the robe and drape it across a rack, then move over to the water’s edge to dip your toes into the water with a sigh. Warm water laps at your skin, coaxes you further into the hot spring until you’re settled down on a bench, water up to your shoulders, hopefully obscuring the rest of you from view.

“Okay, I’m in,” you announce. “You can get in. I’ll close my eyes.”

You pinch them shut in emphasis, clapping your hands over your face just in case. The sound of his bare feed padding across the deck reaches your ears, followed by the splash of what you assume to be a foot stepping into the water. It’s followed by a low exhale.

You pop your eyes open momentarily and Steve’s voice has you clapping them shut frantically. A shout of, “I’m not in all the way!”

“What are you waiting for?! Jesus to come back?!”

“Oh, I don’t know, to adjust to the warm water. It’s cold out here.”

You scoff. “Well, if it makes you feel any better, I didn’t see your dick.”

“Can you not?”

“What? I didn’t!”

“I’m glad you didn’t!”

You scoff. “I mean, ow. That’s kind of rude. I’m your wife.”

“Did you bump your head and forget the part where we’re on a fake honeymoon, following our fake wedding?” He whisper-yells, still not moving down the stairs leading into the sauna.

“I didn’t say I want to see it! Don’t get too big of a head now,” you amend, eyes narrowing. “Steve, just get in, please.”

Your sigh of exasperation has him moving swiftly. Water ripples around your shoulders, gentle caresses against skin as he settles down beside you and announces you can open your eyes.

“There’s this dinner spot I think we should try out tonight. It’s on the main island, but it’s supposed to be really good,” he says after a while, drawing your attention to him. “I figure it could be nice to spend an afternoon out. Together.”

“Is my husband asking me on a date?” You tease, watching as his head submerges itself under the water, leaving you in solitude. “I’m kidding. Kidding, Steve. This seems on brand; my husband trying to escape me on our honeymoon.”

He emerges with a laugh, hair slick against his head, broad chest heaving up and down as he catches his breath. It’s then your eyes wander southward. Hitch on the hair lining his chest, the way it trails below the surface of the water, hinting at a downward path your heart clenches at the mere prospect of following.

Steve’s…well, your husband is handsome. You’ve known since you met him that first time nearly a year ago. But now, sitting there, with the ring you got him your ring on his finger as he cards his fingers through his hair. It…shouldn’t do anything, but it does. Bubbles to life feelings you would rather push away, sweep under a rug, ignore.

Deflect, deflect, deflect.

It’s easier this way.

Because he’s not your real husband in the ways that matter.

Capturing your current distraction as you continue to mindlessly stare, Steve taps your shoulder, drawing your gaze back to his face, your mouth twisting into a frown.

“Sorry, sorry. I wasn’t looking I—”

Scrambling to escape the moment, you start to rise a bit from the water, only for Steve’s gaze to stray. “Eyes up here, Harrington,” you tease, shoving at him and forcing him deeper into the water, hazel eyes bright and wide, holding you in place there in that sauna.

He laughs, spluttering as his head dips beneath the surface.

A deep, hearty, lyrical sound.

That laughter continues until dinner, where Steve brings you to a lovely outdoor restaurant on the beach. All around tables lit by candlelight outline the sandy floor. Little twinkling lights illuminate the space, hidden in the trees, curling around their slender trunks. It’s gorgeous, and you say so as your waitress congratulates you on your marriage while she seats the two of you, offering a bottle of champagne gifted by your mother-in-law.

Until it stops because of a simple sentence that makes Steve stiffen on the spot: “Are those the new Harringtons?”

It’s supposed to be easy. A business deal with a contract like the ones he’d grown up reading. An exercise his father had him do often: would hand him a detailed contract, pages thick, and see if Steve could find the faults within. It’s why he knows the one he drafted up for his own marriage was—or rather, should have been—perfect. But marriage contracts don’t account for persistent wives. For the types of women who seep into the crevices of your life and make themselves known.

And that, he finds quickly, is you. You’re vibrant and joyful and downright fun to be around, and try as he might to deny it, finds himself enjoying your company. But he’d told himself, from the moment on that rooftop when he’d asked you to marry him, that these things could only grow complicated if he allowed them to. If he allowed himself to open up, to feel, to wonder.

Such as this moment, presently staring him in the face. You are in that pretty, off the shoulder cream dress he’d seen you unpack back in the bedroom that clings to your every curve, as Carol and her husband, Tommy H, settle down at the table beside the two of you. And, naturally, you slip into easy conversation with them. Chipper chatter as you catch up on the happenings of your honeymoon so far.

“Isn’t it just so beautiful here? It’s actually our first time here too, but it has been so lovely. Have you two been able to get out and see anything? I’m sure you’re still in that first few days of your trip bliss,” Carol asks, waggling her brows teasingly.

“I…uh, what?” You pause for a moment, reaching across the table to grab Steve’s hand in yours. As if you’ve just remembered you’re married and are meant to play the part of a newlywed. “Oh, yeah…so we have a private bungalow on the water. So you can imagine…”

“That sounds so romantic. Ugh, honey—” She reaches over to clasp her hand around her own husband’s forearm fondly, as if she’s reliving memories of their own newly wedded bliss. “If you haven’t seen any beaches yet, you definitely need to. The water was so perfect. We also tried out this really lovely breakfast place. Great for a morning meal and it’s connected to the sweetest trail. Such pretty scenery here, isn’t there, Tommy?”

Tommy nods, turning to Steve when the girls slip into easy conversation, grinning widely. “She seems great, buddy. So happy for you.”

“She really is,” Steve admits, catching the profile of your pretty face. The upturn of your lips that has his heart careening into the pit of his stomach.

He hates when it does that, and it seems to do so all the time now.

He knows it’s not coincidental.

And that’s the problem, now isn’t it?

The charm you possess. The way Carol and Tommy talk to you like they’ve known you for years as opposed to the few minutes it takes to learn their background history. To find out that they know Steve from the private school they went to in the city. You quickly learn Steve and Tommy played baseball together, before Steve went to business school and Jason pursued the major leagues. They’ve not seen each other in years, so there are no hard feelings about not being invited to the wedding, but they’re happy for the two of you.

Steve told himself marrying you would be easy because he knew little of you. You’re his best friend Eddie’s best friend. You were previously Robin’s roommate. But up until your vows at the altar you were a name his friends would bring up in conversation, and now you’re central to a majority of his conversations, share a last name with him, have now shared a bed with him.

Luckily, there are only a few more days left of your honeymoon. A few until he’s back in the city, back to work, and back to normalcy. You’ll be heading back to school, he’ll have a semblance of reality he feels he’s been lacking, so wrapped up in wedding planning and get togethers, and he’ll have no questions as to why he’s finding it so hard to keep your marriage strictly as what it was always intended to be: a business deal.

For now he’ll have to deal with you grabbing his hand flirtatiously when an Emcee announces a competition for that evening that manages to put a new glint in yours and Carol’s eyes. An expectant glee for him to participate with you, keen on competition, despite his grunts of protest.

For now he’ll have to deal with the way your eyes meet him as a coconut is pressed between the two of you and the game of the evening is announced. Coconut smoochie, wherein two couples compete to bring the coconut between their bodies up to their mouths for a kiss, without using their hands.

For now, he’ll have to deal with the smirk that lines your lips as he starts shifting this way and that, coconut rolling between the two of you, sliding against his abdomen, his chest, your chest, your breasts.

For now, he’ll have to ignore the way you grin to yourself when Carol and Tommy drop their coconut behind the two of you, how satisfied you are when Steve manages to get the coconut under his chin and pinches it there.

“Harrington, you’re not so bad at this,” you tease, chest against his, hips against his.

One wrong move and—

“Can’t believe you got me to do this.”

“You’re on your honeymoon. Live a little. Life doesn’t have to be numbers and contracts all the time.”

And you’re right. He knows this. But he hates the way his stomach twists violently, how his heart clenches as your lips press against the coconut and the other side is pressed to his mouth. Hates how when you’re announced the winners and the coconut drops to the floor between you, his palms sweat as your arms come to curl around his waist.

Because you’re his wife, yes.

Technically.

On paper, at least.

But that’s all it can be.

This affair, this agreement—it has an expiration date.

Three years.

Three years and then you’ll be gone.

Lost to him, like so many others.

For the sake of your agreement, it has to remain that way.

Light seeps in through your bedroom window. A heaviness around your waist, like a weighted blanket, keeps you still. Comforted. Warm. A sigh spills from your lips, pleasant and happy. Contented. Burrowing deeper into that warm, you hum, relishing in the feeling of it. Of being cocooned, safe, held close.

Held close.

Held—

Head shifting, you come to notice Steve flush against your back. His hips against your backside, thighs tangling with yours, and that weight around you? Yeah, it’s connected to a wrist, a bicep—because it’s an arm. Steve’s broad arm cages you in against his bare chest. His warm, freshly tanned, bare chest. Those fingers around your hip curl tighter. The arm around you tugs you closer, though you’re not sure how much closer two people can be without climbing into the other person, and you realize the very…interesting situation you two have found yourselves in.

His body against yours. Your body flush against him. His breath in your hair, along your ear, his mouth near the hinge of your jaw. If he moves even the slightest bit, they’ll make contact with your skin. And you’ve kissed Steve enough times now to know said kisses are dangerous. They’ll only lead to dreaming, to questioning, to wondering.

You don’t have time for any of those things.

Your honeymoon is coming to a close soon enough. Only a few days left now, and then you’ll be back to your own lives. To normalcy. Or as normal as two people freshly married can be.

“Steve?” Your voice is quiet in an attempt to not startle the man holding you.

His mouth shifts near your ear. A low yawn spills against your jaw, heat fanning across your skin. “Yeah?”

“You’re squeezing me,” you point out, wiggling your body for emphasis. “Our pillow wall fell down in our sleep.”

But it’s in the wiggling against his solid form that you realize there are actually three people in the room. Your husband, yourself, and the warm, thick, long, and presently hard erection pressed against your bottom.

It’s also when you hear the slow exhale of your husband’s breath along the hollow of your ear. A telltale sound, even in the short time you’ve been married, that signals he’s hardly awake. Still in that wispy world between waking and sleep. Deciding to not rouse him further, you settle back down into his embrace.

Or rather, try to. When you do so, your body freezes on the spot. Cold water seemingly drops from a bucket onto your shared bed. Because Steve whimpers against your shoulder.

Whimpers.

A breathy, needy sound that has your stomach fluttering. And further still, as your heart rate picks up, realization dawns. Your knee involuntarily searches for its twin beneath the covers, thighs clenching around Steve’s thigh. This time, he moans. A deep rumble in his chest that vibrates along your spine, has your fingers clutching at his arm slung low around your hips.

“Steve,” you try again, pleading with whoever listens from above as Steve’s hips roll forward, cock pressing against your backside again, making your pussy flutter around nothing. Betrays you and your damn emotions. Your pillow swallows your moan, desire racketting in your veins. “Fu—Steve.”

Awareness grows. Waking follows. Steve starts to shift behind you, arm loosening from around your waist, chest slipping from your back. His form moves toward the headboard and you try to not miss the loss of his warmth so deeply, try to not linger on the instantaneous loneliness that creeps when the king sized bed grows even larger before you, the gaping maw between you created by lies and acts, touted before your closest family and friends never so insurmountable.

As you rise from your own pillow and look at him, he tugs the blankets higher up on his hips, hands moving to the bedside table to grab his glasses and phone. Your mouth opens to speak, to reassure him it’s fine, that it happens, that it’s just a silly pillow wall, but he mutters shower and slips out of the room and down the hall.

Huffing, you roll onto your back, listening to the sound of your racing heartbeat coming back to a normal rhythm. It’s joined a moment later by the water running, the gentle rainfall of the shower head in the master bathroom sparking to life, likely steaming that room.

You don’t want to think about it.

Try hard to not think about the figure of your husband slipping into the stream. Try not to imagine the sight of his bare chest on display, rivulets of water dripping down his sculpted abdominals, fingers running through the hair growing longer since you’ve met him on his head, along the stubble that’s lining his jaw and upper lip now. Try to not imagine him still pressed against you, rolling his hips against yours, drawing a quiet moan from you. Definitely don’t imagine what he’s likely doing in the shower to alleviate his…situation. Your fingers edge along the hem of your sleep shorts as you try to block out the image of his corded arms straining in the shower as those long fingers curl tight around his c—

No!

Absolutely not! Not going there.

NOPE.

The day before your flight home arrives sooner than you expect it to. Five days of…well, maybe not marital bliss, but something, passing before your eyes. After the night you woke to Steve’s arms around your waist, the pillow wall became a pillow mountain.

And, though you loathe to admit it, you hate the mornings that follow. They remind you of what you can expect once you’re back in the city with him. Nights where you slip to one end of the hall and him the other, where you pass each other on the way to grab coffee in the morning, where you wave goodbye before one of you leaves and silence follows.

Steve wakes early the morning of your last day, mutters that he’s going to spend some time in the private gym, leaving you to make breakfast for when he gets out. With both a plate of eggs and coffee brewing for your husband, you open your laptop with the intention of making sure all your classes have been set up.

What greets you there isn’t…well, it’s not unexpected. It was part of your deal, but you hadn’t anticipated him paying the bill already.

Thousands of dollars were paid, bringing your total due for the semester down to nothing.

Zero.

Zilch.

Eyes burning, you close the lid of your laptop, sniffling as Steve enters the room and thanks you, taking a bite of his breakfast.

“You didn’t have to cook again,” he says. “We haven’t called the private chef at all this week.”

You shrug, wiping at your under eyes quickly. “I don’t mind. I like cooking. I’ll have to go shopping when we get home.”

Home.

That’s right.

The walls of your penthouse that feel so far from it are, in fact, your home.

“Don’t drive yourself crazy cooking all the time. I order out or go out most nights anyway.”

“Right,” you say, dipping your head and pouring him a cup of coffee. “I’ll be busy with school soon anyway.”

“Exactly.” He sips his drink. “That should be your main focus.”

“Right.”

Awkward.

Stilted.

Uncomfortable.

Those feelings linger as you step out onto the hammock outside, dangling over the water below. Your book is back on your lap, Steve’s on your right, freshly brought up to speed on where you’re at. The main character broke up with her boyfriend and told the main male lead that they need to stop seeing each other.

Needing to take a break from it, tears gathering in your eyes, you tip your gaze up to the sky. The sun beats heavily on your head, warms your skin, and makes you sleepy.

Steve turns his head your way, fingers trailing along your forearm, breaking you out of your silent reverie. “Hey. Are you okay? You’ve been a little quiet this morning.”

“Yeah.” You nod, rolling over onto your side. Reaching up to place your book on a safer spot of the deck, you shift closer to him, lips turning downward. “I saw you paid my semester—”

“I told you I would. It was part of the deal.”

The deal.

The arrangement.

“I know, I just…seeing it was kind of overwhelming. In a good way. In an…I’m really grateful kind of way.” A slow exhale spills from your lips, chest falling with the effort of it. “I know we didn’t get married in the most, uh, conventional way, but—there are things that this will allow me to do that I wouldn’t be able to otherwise. It’s a big weight lifted off my shoulder. So. I guess thank you for marrying me.”

The corner of his lip twitches upward as your husband rolls over onto his side, sunglasses blocking half his face from view. “This is also a weight off my shoulders, too. I think you forget that. I needed to get married for the company—”

“A company you don’t want,” you tease, wrinkling your nose.

“A company I don’t want,” he agrees, chuckling lightly. “But I’d rather it stay out of my cousin’s hands. So thank you for marrying me.”

“Ready to go home, Mr. Harrington?”

He snorts. “Sure, Mrs. Harrington.”

#steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #modern!steve harrington #fake husband!steve harrington #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington x f!reader #modern day!au

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http-finnick · 1 year

Text

𝐫𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐬

"but I love the sea"

shy!finnick odair x fem!reader

summary: a short drabble on a shy finnick confessing his feelings to you after the war

request: Please 🙏 a finnick x reader where the war is over and he can finally tell her he likes her like shy finnick talking to his crush would be so cuteee

you sit on the porch of your new home. right by the sea as the cloudy waves brush over each other

"So, what are you going to do now?" Finnicks voice ripples past you and you close your eyes for a minute to think about everything, what are you going to do?

"I guess anything now. But I know I'm staying in four." "Well, where you go I go" he sighs and you spin on your heels to face him with a slight furrow in your brows

"Finnick, you can't follow me around like we're kids anymore. if you want to move districts you can" it wasn't harsh, you said it with a soft tone but it was the truth, he needs to live his life as well

"remember the meadows. you talked about them in 13, how you wished and wondered what living out in the woods would be like" you grinned as you noticed his red cheeks from your almost mocking

"No! I don't wanna live out there...I- I love the sea!" he stumbled on his words, losing his focus as he chose to stare at the wooden planks beneath you instead of your eyes

"Finn, my ears bled from you talking about the woods. go there for a month or two and then come back and tell me how much you don't wanna live out there" you crossed your arms as you wouldn't let up, he needed to put himself out there and not stick around here if he didn't want to. you think back to 13 when he told you all his big plans for the future, about how he wanted to get married and have children running around the house. it sounded nice. he mentioned you as the auntie and that's when you swallowed sharply and liked it less.

"...would you come with me?" he whispered and you threw your arms up

"finnick!"

"I know! I know! but-" "that defeats the purpose!"

"yeah- no, well-"

"you won't find a wife if you're by me all the time!" "I don't want to find a wife!" "oh, so, that 13 conversations of auntie me was just a joke?" "you weren't supposed to be the auntie!"

you freeze as this back-and-forth suddenly took a turn. you both stare at each other in silence as the ocean waves become as ear-bleeding as his meadow talk

"...was I the dog?" you state matter-of-factly, pushing the question of 'if I wasn't the aunt, then who was I?'

"no- I- I-" he stutters as his face swarms with red. staring back at the floor as he shifts uncomfortably

"I don't want to live in the meadows by myself and- I don't want to have you as the auntie or the dog"

"then what do you want finnick?" you ask softly, he looks up at you for a second before retreating down

"I want you"

you freeze once more as he curls into himself. obviously feeling the heat run up to his face as he tries to keep it out of your viewing

"y/n, I l-love you. alot. you're beautiful and kind- strong"

you turn his face back to you as you press your lips deeply into his, feeling the way his body fell stiff in shock before melting made you grin before pulling back

"Finnick, I love you too." you watch as his eyes widen and pupils grow, and he struggles out words but opts to kiss you instead

"you know, this could've happened a lot sooner if you didn't call future me auntie" you giggled as you rested your forehead against his

"dont say that!"

an: omg I hope this is okay, I kinda twisted it with drama ( even tho their back and forth and 'fighting' was supposed to be playful! i hope you guys didn't think they were actually fighting lmao! ) --instead of keeping it at a simple confession and I'm super sorry for that! I love shy finnick and him adoring reader so this was really nice to write <33 ilysm thank you for requesting!!

#finnick odair fluff #finnick odair x reader #finnick odair imagine #finnick odair #mockingjay #finnick odair x you #finnick odair rp #finnick odair fanfic #finnick odair headcanons #thg headcanons #thg fanfiction #thg rp #thg finnick #thg x reader #the hunger games rp #the hunger games imagine #the hunger games fanfiction #the hunger games

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xxxbabyinatrenchcoatxxx · 7 months

Text

I love Andrew Minyard as a criminal justice major. Just imagine the possibilities that could happen!! He'd 100% write a paper about nature vs nurture that is about himself and Neil (only if you read between the lines can you tell that tho)

Oh man!! An idea is coming into my head as I think about this!!

Okay, okay, so imagine the following.

Andrew is in his The Serial Killer's Psyche class when he learns about the more recent recent killers, including The Baltimore Butcher.

He lowkey becomes fascinated with the whole thing.

(It's the knives)

And goes down a rabbit hole looking into anything and everything regarding the Wesninski family.

He learns that Nathan was married and had a son, Nathaniel, with a member of another known mafia family from across the Atlantic, Mary.

The son would be the perfect killing machine for these two.

But then he learns that Mary and Nathaniel died tragically in an unknown form.

"The family wants to keep their privacy in these hard times." The press says.

Despite Andrew researching for days (he even went to the library once!) He can't find any record of how they died, but their death certificates have the same time stamp on them so at least he knows they died at the same time.

After finding out as much as he can about the family, he is (and he would never admit this to anyone at all ever) solely on the side of the cops in believing that Nathan Wesninski is The Baltimore Butcher despite there not being enough evidence, etc etc.

Having learned all he could, he all but forgets about the Wesninski family.

Fast forward to the next semester when Kevin tells him they are going to Arizona because he found them a new striker.

As Neil is trying to catch his breath from Andrew hitting him, Andrew is suddenly excepiencing a new phenomenon to him "familiarity"

For some reason, this flight risk reminds him of someone, but he can't quite remember who.

This is new.

Not remembering something.

Is his memory failing him for the first time ever?

He blames it on his meds and moves on

Everytime he sees Neil after he moves to Palmetto, he has the same feeling.

Ever. Single. Time.

It is increasingly aggravating and intirely too intresting.

After weeks spent trying to remember who Neil reminded him of, filing through every person he's ever encountered, and Neil's skitish behavior, he decided that Neil must be a threat.

Why else would his instincts tell him not to trust Neil?

Why didn't he react to the Moriyamas coming south that fall?

Why couldn't he fucking remember where he knew Neil from???

His shell cracked a little bit and he decided on impulse that Neil was going to Eden's with them

Andrew was practically vibrating with rage by the end of that night.

"Who are you?" Andrew asked.

"Wha- I don't understand? I'm Neil?"

"No. I know you, but I've never seen you before." Andrew watched as Neil tensed, wondering what was running through the runners head.

"We don't know each other." Neil made as if to walk away, but he didn't make it far before he had to grab the wall to stabilize himself.

"I know you." Andrew said, grabbing his shoulder.

"No, you don't." Neil shoved him.

"Do you work for the Moriyamas?"

"You think I'm a mole?" Neil scoffed, but it was more slurred with the drugs in his system.

"You're something. And I know how to properly dispose of a body." Andrew said lowly, threatingly, putting both hands on either side of Neil, caging him him.

"So do I." Neil's voice was steady, and he shoved Andrew back as far as he could before taking off.

Neil feeds Andrew half-truths the next day at Wymacks, saying that he must have seen him on the street somewhere. He honestly had no idea why Andrew recognized him.

Andrew doesn't believe that, but he believes Neil's half-truths about his family and lets him go.

Eventually, the familiar feeling is exchanged with actual recognition, and the books continue on as normal

UNTIL

Andrew gets out of Easthaven and sees Neil with his blue eyes and Aubrun hair and brused face, and Andrew freezes for only a moment.

But for that moment, it's like a Christmas tree lighting up in Andrew's head.

Neurons firing and connecting dots he didn't know went to together.

Nathaniel Wesninski stood next to his family

Nathaniel Wesninski protected his family while he was in rehab

Nathaniel Wesninski has been alone with Kevin every night for the past 4 months

Nathaniel Wesninksi was a runaway

Nathaniel Wesninski was alive

Nathaniel Wesninski

Andrew doesn't know what to do with this information yet, so he does nothing

He goes about his decided itinerary for the day

He still doesn't know what to do until "I never understood why he liked knives."

Everyone else was thinking Riko, but Andrew was thinking Nathan.

He decides then and there that he's not going to say anything until Neil tells him.

Neil's "I'm Nathaniel" hits Andrew like a gut punch.

He already knew it but now it's confirmed.

When Neil goes missing, Andrew was the first to tell coach about Nathan's release from prison.

He persuades Coach (read: stares down repeating "Baltimore") to take them to Baltimore because that's where Neil is.

Books go on as normal

Life seemingly goes back to normal after summer break.

They start the new semester with significantly fewer worries, and Neil is figuring out his newfound freedom.

Andrew is in his Advanced Psychology class when Nathan Wesninski is brought up again.

The professor - fortunately for her sake - doesn't mention Neil or Nathaniel at all but assigned them an imaginative assignment

They are to pick a serial killer and study what is known about their at home life and write a paper about what it might be like to grow up in that kind of enviroment

Andrew was going to ignore this assignment, but Neil found out and thought the whole thing was hilarious.

Neil finds out that Andrew was entirely too fascinated by the Wesninski family.

"You liked me before you even met me."

Eventually, they decided that Andrew didn't have to write the paper.

"Mr. Minyard. It is your turn to present."

Andrew and Neil walk to the front.

"This was a single person assignment, Mr. Minyard."

"I think a first-hand account is better than anything I could have come up with. Don't you think?"

"First hand?"

"Hello Andrew's classmates. I'm Nathaniel Wesninski, but please call me Neil. Fair warning. If you ever call me Nathaniel, I will kill you."

They spend the rest of the class basically ragging on Nathan the entire time

#aftg #all for the game #andrew minyard #neil josten #the foxes #aftg neil #the foxhole court #andriel #the raven king #the kings men #aftg au #criminal justice major Andrew Minyard

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klmp11s · 30 days

Note

Your profile looks like your fav is rook so could I request rook with male reader that finds his hunter stalking behaviors cute and actually tries to reverse the role and make Rook his prey 💘

Haha! Yes, Rook is one of my favorite characters. 🫶(English is not my first language, sorry for any mistakes)

Summary: reader that finds his behaviors cute and actually tries to reverse the role and make Rook his prey Character: Rook Hunt Warning: male!reader, stalking behaviours(?), ooc(?), hcs

Rook Hunt

When you first met Rook, he was as interested in you as you were in him.

Often when you met, you listened to his sweet speeches, poems and you could also answer him in the same way.

Later, when you already saw his “hunting” behavior, you could say you fell in love at first sight.

He's so cute! You often asked if he could demonstrate archery to you, or even spar with you.

Did I mention he has a bow? So, dear, you have a crossbow 🫢🤫

I think the first time when you were interested in his behavior passed so that you could remember his habits.

But don't forget, he's a hunter for a reason, right? Apparently he noticed that the shine in your eyes became brighter when he once again showed you archery

When a Crossbow Bolt crashed into his desk during class, he found it very interesting. Plus, if you also attached a note to it.

An inscription, a poem, a drawing or just a doodle - he will accept it all. Don't be surprised if next time, while you're relaxing in the garden, an arrow flies into the tree you were leaning on.

I can say that now you two are flirting in the language of adrenaline and hunting.

If you want to make a hunter into prey, you need to try, you know? I think suddenly putting a knife to your neck can also be considered flirting between the two of you.

What if you still look into each other's eyes? Yes, he completely agrees and LOVES it.

The game of cat and mouse reaches a new level when you two try to find each other in the forest. I hope you have keen hearing or very fast reflexes, because you wouldn’t want to pull the arrow out of yourself, right?

If you can get even the slightest bit of bolt on him, boy, is he in love.

But I also hope that you didn't hurt his face, otherwise you will have to fear not him, but HIS DORM LEADER

I think your friends compare you to him and say that you are like two peas in a pod.

100% there were situations when you were relaxing with your friends and suddenly an arrow with a note flies into the ground a couple of centimeters from you. You are literally friends:😨😱😧 , then when you literally glow with happiness: 😍☺️🥰

Notes or gifts in each other's rooms out of nowhere? Yes.

He just walks into his room when he sees a tiny box with his initials on it on the bed. Obviously, he knows who it is from, there is only one person who can make such wonderful surprises!

Your gifts to each other are arrows, bolts, some cute trinkets, hunting items and absolutely everything in that spirit. I think even his dorm members compare you and call you a "scary married couple"

And you didn’t even say anything against it, unless you weren’t even in a relationship with him. “The hunter gets the prey and then does whatever he wants with it” - this is your principle.

You also told your friends what “cute” gestures Rook made for you.

Although they don't think it's cute to sneak into someone else's room, they are used to your personality and will likely soon become accustomed to Rook's personality.

I'm not sure you two will have a healthy relationship, but minus for minus makes a plus, right? If you two like it, that's all that matters.

He will definitely enjoy sparring with you after a short game of cat and mouse. This is the first time that the hunter becomes the hunted, so why not make the most of this fact?

If you manage to pin him to the ground beneath you, then you are definitely making him feel the wrong way. You hear ringing laughter and his beautiful speeches in French. Lifting his face a little by the chin, you expose his neck and lean closer. At that moment, he becomes silent and closely monitors your actions. You can do almost anything and he will love it, but god if you BITE - he is ready to die on the spot.

He will also not hide your marks, bites, etc. at all - he may even, on the contrary, try to emphasize it

He literally won't tell you anything if you decide to bite his throat, do you understand that?

Abrasions, bruises, scratches from your games with him bring him some kind of incomprehensible joy.

If you are physically stronger and more agile than him, then this is another reason why he likes you so much. Everyone runs away and tries not to contact him, and you? You simply charm! You get into trouble yourself, how unusual!

"Are they trying to kill each other?" "They're flirting.🙄 "

Are you both in a relationship? May be. Are you two in love? Absolutely right

His whole dorm is already used to the two of you constantly walking together, if they see one of you two alone - it’s strange for them

Threatening each other as courtship is absolutely true. I think during your game with him at the end, a couple of times you just sat on top of him in his hat and talked to him, keeping your finger on his pulse.

But do you remember that of the two of you and him, you are the hunter? Keep this in mind.

Sometimes he would tell you something about the day's events, to which you would simply respond, “Oh, yes, I know.” and just bat your beautiful eyelashes. I think that sometimes he could forget that it was YOU who caught him, and not the other way around.

Grab him in the hallway and just carry him away? It happened more than once. You are sure that you have almost learned French, considering how often you communicate with Rook, this is even a plus for you.

What if you take a bow instead of a crossbow? Okay, boy I'm pretty sure that, yeah, YOU'RE HOT

If you're training, he might just come over and watch you, but more often than not he'll just watch nearby and test your wits and reflexes. Yes, he can definitely shoot you, are you surprised?

You even adopted his habit of sweet speeches. God, your friends literally don't see the difference between you two, are you and him already married?

I think official recognition will happen on both sides at the same time, without any agreement. Okay, now you're in a relationship with a hunter but you obviously like it, you've never seen a cuter guy than Rook, you're so lucky, right?

The characters do not belong to me, they belong to their rightful owners, please do not edit, translate, repost my works on other platforms, also without my permission and @

#rook hunt x reader #twst x reader #twst x male reader #twisted wonderland x male reader #rook hunt x male reader #rook hunt

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seoafin · 11 months

Text

dog days are over | chapter two

pairing: gojo satoru x fem!reader x geto suguru warnings/tags (for this chapter): none except typical gojo behavior word count: ~4.1k

fic masterlist read on ao3

You are in a store, looking at an intricately carved wooden grandfather clock, when you suddenly stand upright and look around. Satoru and Megumi are nowhere in sight, or even in the antique store for that matter. The last thing you remember was following Satoru and Megumi in the crowd. Satoru had been on the phone receiving unpleasant news, from the look on his face. But then you caught a glimpse of the clock you had spent the last ten minutes marveling over in the storefront window, and your legs had done the rest.

It’s a fine grandfather clock, undoubtedly out of your budget, but beautiful nonetheless. It's large, about the length of Satoru actually, the fine wood nearly red and carved into delicate spirals on the side, with gold touches overlaying the clock window, the second hand slowly ticking away.

You catch your face in the reflection of the glass panel, and you ponder it. One day you were a child, peering into your mother's vanity mirror, inspecting your features with the indifference of a toddler. Then you were a motherless girl, in near tears at how your father would cringe away from the familiar set of your nose and lips. You don't think your face has changed much from high school. Unless it has?

You wonder how you appear to others, what they see when they look at you.

You step away, searching for your phone in your bag. It’s not until you blindly reach for the familiar shape of your phone that you realize you don’t have it. You must have left it at home.

Satoru would find you…probably.

The man at the counter dips his head in a farewell and you smile back as you step back outside. The gravity of the situation hits you. This is troubling. Satoru and Megumi…the park is a possibility. They could’ve also gone to the department store too. Your best bet is to….stay put. If nobody comes in the next ten minutes, you’d head to the department store.

You stand outside the store, watching passersby. All types of people. Schoolgirls, couples, businessmen, older women and men. All people with lives, oblivious to cursed energy and jujustu sorcery and all the dangers that lurk in the dark. In another life, you would be someone. Maybe you’d be walking home from work. Maybe you’d be walking to see your parents, to a house that doesn’t exist anymore, not in this life. You’d be a working adult, or maybe you’d still be in school, just like you are now.

A woman walks right by you, laughing while on the phone. There is a brightly cut diamond on her ring finger. She doesn’t look much older than you. In fact, she might even be your age. You wonder about the circumstances of her marriage. She might not be married yet. She could’ve just been recently proposed to.

In another life, you could’ve been just another girl on the street, happily engaged and chatting eagerly to a friend on the phone about wedding plans.

Your world tilts a little to the left at the revelation.

“Heya missy,” a man says, walking up to you. You note the open collar of his cheetah print shirt, the sagging waistband of his pants. There’s a lit cigarette stuck between his teeth. He’s so close to your face that the ashes of his cigarette fall onto your shoes.

“You waitin’ on someone?”

“I am,” you say patiently. “He should be here soon.”

You hope anyway. Maybe you’d just make your way to the department store regardless.

“Leaving a beautiful woman like you waiting?” He laughs, blowing a fresh face of smoke in your face. “This fella doesn’t know how to treat a woman like you.”

Perturbed, you take a step backwards into the wall, but the man steps forward, closing the distance once more.

“C’mon,” he says. “Me and you. There’s a karaoke bar near here…”

“I’m good.” You turn to start walking to the department store.

The man’s tone turns ugly. “Now wait a min—” You feel fingers brush your wrist. Satoru is not there and then he is, and when you register the blur of his presence and distinctive cursed energy, he is pulling the man up by his wrist. The man struggles with Satoru’s height, toes raised in an attempt to stabilize his footing.

“Leave before I break your hand,” Satoru says tonelessly, tipping his face down to meet the man’s eyes past his sunglasses. “Out of my sight.”

Satoru lets go of the man’s wrist, and he falls, stumbling to the ground. You see a flash of his bruised wrist. He doesn’t even spare you a glance as he runs away.

“Thank you,” you say. He shouldn’t have gone that far though. You don’t think it’s right to be harming civilians like that. Especially to help you, of all things. You’re about to speak up again, when he turns to you.

“You.”

His eyebrow twitches once, temporarily marring the cool expression on his face, and you think that maybe you should’ve just gone to the department store after all because there’s a very real chance he is annoyed at you.

You suddenly find the ground very interesting. Satoru’s shoes enter your vision. And when you finally look up at him, his fingers are flattening the collar of your button up shirt, fingers grazing your bare neck where his gaze rests.

“Maybe I should get you a collar and leash,” he says casually, easily, as his fingers begin to button your shirt, out of the top three you neglected when you initially put the shirt on. The first, then the second. “Since you keep forgetting yourself.” The third. Your shirt is buttoned to the collar. He clears the hair from your face to behind your shoulders, fingers brushing your neck.

You stare at him. He meets your gaze unabashedly. You don’t know how to feel about the fact that Satoru just called you a dog. A lost, blind dog. Sometimes, you know him as well as you know the back of your hand, and sometimes, you think he’s completely incomprehensible, speaking in a language only Suguru can understand.

You blink. A sudden thought strikes you, and your eyes go wide, sweeping all around you. “Where’s Megumi!?”

Before a passerby can bump into you, Satoru tugs at your arm, bringing you into his chest. He takes your hand, fingers entwined around your own, and leads you. “I left him in the park.”

You’re horrified. How can he be so nonchalant about leaving a child in the park? “Satoru—”

He exhales, shoulders temporarily sagging in a contained effort. “Megumi’s a big boy now!” He exclaims, grinning. “If he can’t survive 20 minutes by himself, he’ll never survive the life of a jujutsu sorcerer.” He frowns. “At least Megumi remembers his phone.” And that's more than we can say about you, isn't it?

That brings you to silence. You…You knew Megumi would likely never experience a normal life but you still wanted to grant him whatever semblance of normality you could. You’d make it up to him somehow, feeling guilty that you had yet again, thoughtlessly wandered off. A habit Satoru remarked about over and over as headache inducing. It wasn’t as nearly inconvenient when you were alone, with nobody to answer to.

The two of you find Megumi on a stone ledge, drinking from a water bottle while clutching three pink shopping bags in his arm. And Satoru left him with Mimiko and Nanako’s Christmas presents. You shake your head, unable to even find the words.

“I’m sorry.” You say apologetically. “Were you waiting long?”

“Not really,” he replies. You wince. He’s lying in consideration for your feelings. You take a seat next to him.

“Tell me everything you want for Christmas.” You are serious. You have a few things in mind for Megumi’s Christmas presents, but if he had his own thoughts and ideas, then even better. “Satoru will buy you whatever you want.”

Satoru snorts. “That’s some nerve you got there.”

You ignore him. Megumi peers up at you, and you resist the urge to take him into your arms and squeeze, unsure if he’d take it well.

“What was it?” He asks. What caught your attention?

You are embarrassed all over again, especially since you can feel Satoru’s own interest. “There was a…clock.” You clear your throat. “Should we get dessert?” You lift your head, and see a crepe truck parked at the far corner of the park. “How about some crepes?”

You watch with Satoru as Megumi walks towards the crepe truck, money gingerly tucked in his hand, a smile on your face. It feels like just yesterday he was seven and barely up to your waist, expression oscillating between blank indifference and a scowl. He had been at the age where you could wrap your arms around him and feel his small body cling to you back. Children grow up quickly. Megumi, Tsumiki, Nanako and Mimiko. It makes you both incredibly sad and proud. Now Megumi is at an age he can buy crepes all by himself because you expressed interest in eating dessert.

…Or maybe he just wanted to get away from Satoru. The smile on your face grows wider. Some things just didn’t change. Satoru could get married. Suguru and Shoko too. The three of them would eventually leave you. But your relationship with Megumi would never change. At least, you hoped.

Satoru clears his throat. You blink, taken from thoughts, and turn to him. You see that he’s taken off his sunglasses, head angled forward to allow his eyes to take center, flashing in a calculated, pointed look, and you are already bracing yourself for some kind of inane request. Or so you assume. You resist the urge to turn back forward and ignore him.

“...?”

His voice is light. Almost pleasant. “Don’t you think you’ve been spending a little too much time with Megumi recently?”

You are wholly unsympathetic as you stare at him, tilting your head to the side. “...That’s a little pathetic of you, don’t you think?”

His bottom lip juts out in a displeased expression, bordering on a pout. Though you aren’t sure if it’s because of the blunt manner in which you replied or your actual response.

“...”

You feel…a little bad. Especially because he won’t stop looking at you. The days where you could comfortably ignore him have seemed to pass. The two of you aren’t in high school anymore. And you’re not the same person you were in those days you could indifferently brush off Satoru’s crude comments and easily irritable attitude.

“I like spending time with Megumi,” you say lightly. Suguru’s so good with the girls that sometimes you worried Megumi felt left out. Not because Suguru didn’t make an effort to include him, but because there was only so much a ten year old boy had in common with his similarly aged sisters. So the two of you went off together in search of bookstores and record stores in Jimbocho, tried your hand at arcade games (and spectacularly lost in a fashion that Satoru would undoubtedly make fun of you for), tried different types of matcha at the department stores, and more.

You’ve never considered it a chore or babysitting. Megumi’s silence was different from Satoru’s constant activity, his overwhelming presence you’ve watched others get easily drawn into. Or even Suguru’s dominating calm and peace. On some level, the two of you understood each other. You think if anything, it was nice to be understood without any words needed.

Satoru does not look appeased. “More than you like spending time with me? ” With Suguru?

You wonder what has him so agitated lately, if the incident earlier could be indicative of something more, something that’s been troubling him. You don’t know who had called him earlier, or the contents of the call, but you think it has everything to do with Satoru’s recent moods. It’s been a while since you’ve seen him so antagonistic.

“Of course not,” you say evenly, carefully, but his mouth drops in a greatly aggrieved gesture, as if you’ve just told him you killed his dog.

“Liar!” He exclaims, purposefully raising his voice and inviting several curious glances from onlookers and several women who seem both invested in the potential drama and Satoru’s good looks. “Just who do you think you’re fooling!?”

You sweat. “Satoru…” You see a man turn to the woman next to him and mouth couple fight . You’re inwardly mortified. Satoru straightens. “I really can’t speak to you while you’re like this.”

“He gets you more than I do,” he huffs, crossing his arms.

You blink, before staring down at your lap, feeling warm enough that the chill outside doesn’t feel as cold. You meet his gaze. “You…miss me?”

“No needa sound so surprised,” he says unhappily, eyeing you as if you’ve said something wrong. You seem to be making a habit of saying all the wrong things. He sighs, running a hand through his hair.

It hadn’t occurred to you that Satoru and maybe Suguru and Shoko too, missed you as much as you missed them. You didn’t expect Satoru of all people to tell you as such. Your smile grows wider. He misses you. It’s an oddly vulnerable declaration, especially from Satoru.

He impatiently taps his foot. “...Don’t you have anything to say to me?”

You laugh. “I love you too Satoru.”

A strange look crosses his face. You aren’t sure if he’s pleased or displeased at your words, but you’ve never been one to shy away with your own declarations of love. You love him, you love Suguru, you love Shoko. You love the kids. You hope they all know how much you love them, so much that you’d do anything for them. You think your love, in all its meager, useless glory, for all its joys and sorrows, is the only thing you have to offer.

Satoru only looks at you, and takes a seat next to you. His fingers brush yours. “I’ll make you take responsibility for those words, you know," he muses. "One day."

The two of you watch Megumi wait in line for crepes. You rest your head on his shoulder. “You don’t need to get married if you don’t want to.”

He exhales roughly, confirming your suspicions. He doesn't need to ask you how you know, or anything else. “Is that what you think?”

“I don’t think it matters what I think,” you close your eyes to the heat of Satoru’s body. “What do you want?”

There’s a silence. When you open your eyes and raise your gaze, Satoru is looking at you.

“Everything.”

It’s an answer very characteristic of him. A smile nudges at your lips as you straighten yourself. “As long as you’re happy.” Then nothing else really mattered, did it? Maybe you were selfish for wishing it. Everyone’s happiness at the expense of everything else, but you found that you didn’t really care. If Satoru decided to quit the life jujustu sorcery tomorrow, you’d support him. Just as you’d support Suguru and Shoko and whatever Megumi and the girls wanted for himself in life.

“I do feel a little bad though,” you admit truthfully to him, sheepish. “I wish you’d still at least drop by those matchmaking ceremonies.” It makes you sad to think of all those women, working themselves up to look their absolute best, ignored and disappointed because Satoru couldn’t be bothered. You know it was expected that Satoru would do whatever he wanted, just as he always has, but it wouldn’t kill him to say a nice word or two before politely excusing himself. Though, if anything, it seemed Suguru was undertaking that duty for him.

Satoru makes a face that confirms your thoughts. As if even the mere thought of it all is a much too bothersome task.

“Suguru says they’re all very nice girls.” Great conversationalists. Mostly disappointed at Satoru’s lack of interest, some relieved. They had interesting thoughts and opinions, but very rarely an outlet for them, which made Suguru’s kindness even more meaningful.

“Does he,” Satoru comments dryly. His voice drops into a mutter. “If he likes them so much he should just marry one.”

You look at him sympathetically. Satoru probably isn’t used to feeling jealousy. You’re not sure of what to say to him, so you settle on covering his larger hand with your own, and giving him a reassuring squeeze. “Nobody could ever replace what the two of you are to each other.” You pause, deciding there’s really no way to approach this topic lightly. So you bluntly say, “Is everything alright between the two of you?”

He flips his hand over, tightly interlacing your fingers as he looks straight ahead, eyebrows furrowed in contemplation. “Just don’t understand him sometimes.”

You can’t help it. You laugh. Satoru raises an eyebrow, but you’re too busy laughing to respond right away. It’s been a while since you’ve been so thoroughly amused.

“I’m,” you let out the remnants of your laughter, shoulders trembling, “sorry.” You shake your head, straightening. “Instead of not understanding him, are you sure you’re not frustrated because you know him too well?”

You think in Satoru’s case, his frustration is born from an overt understanding of all things Suguru more than a lack of understanding. It’s because he knows Suguru so well he also has to recognize that, like himself, Suguru can be more than implacable. Stubborn to the point of nonsense. Stubborn, just to make a point. Satoru knows Suguru as well as he knows himself, from the inside out. But Suguru isn’t Satoru, and sometimes their conflicting opinions cause more strife than necessary, especially considering their competitive streaks and antagonistic natures.

Satoru opens his mouth to rebuke you. Then he shuts it, resigned. You’ve won.

“Suguru’s just being being polite and kind,” you point out. You don’t point out that you’re sure Suguru would never entertain the affections of a woman he knows Satoru wouldn’t like. That there are many things the two of them have agreed on, and this would just be another. “You never know when you might need a friendly face in the crowd. I’m sure Suguru’s thinking about the future.”

Satoru’s existence was regarded as much as it was scorned, feared. The strongest jujustu sorcerer who would only grow more into himself, into all the abilities of limitless that the six eyes afforded him. The strongest. A once lonely title now shared. You don’t want Satoru to be feared or reviled, despite Satoru’s own indifference towards it. And you’re sure Suguru shares that sentiment. If Satoru has spurned jujustu society, then Suguru has embraced it. This is Suguru’s way of navigating jujustu higher society and politics, subtly crafting and pulling strings and favors, maintaining illusions of hierarchy and power, dangling promises of power and advantageous relationships. All in Satoru’s absence.

Or, more rightly, you suppose it’s Satoru letting Suguru take the reins.

For all its many flaws and hardships, this is a world Megumi and Mimiko and Nanako will inherit. All of them have been hurt very much. There’s so much work to do to make it hospitable, inhabitable. To grow a garden where there was once a barren wasteland.

Satoru is looking at you oddly. Like he’s trying to convey to you something you don’t understand, all through the intensity of his gaze.

“?”

He quickly masks it with a conspicuously suspicious look. “You’re taking his side, aren’t you?”

You smile, shaking your head when Satoru’s thumb starts massaging circles into your hand. “I know better than to get in between the two of you.” Your smile turns a hint sheepish. “But…Suguru says that they’re all very nice girls. You never know…” you trail off suggestively, thinking of Suguru and his charmed white lotus girl. “There could be a girl—”

“Absolutely not.” There’s a finality in his voice that gives you pause.

“That’s okay too,” you say slowly, shrugging. Satoru has always known what he wants. Maybe in the end, all Satoru wanted was Suguru, and what could you say about that? You only wanted Satoru to know that love came in all shapes and sizes. If you could love him and Suguru and Shoko, then it was only reasonable to think another potential lover between the two was possible. Besides, the future was unpredictable. You knew that better than most. Maybe not now but…

You squeeze his hand tightly enough that it should be uncomfortable, but Satoru doesn’t even flinch. He returns the squeeze, his hand so large they nearly engulf your own. You don’t remember his hands being so big. And then the two of you are squeezing each other’s hands, trying hard not to laugh. You’re glad the tension has somewhat left Satoru’s shoulders. There’s a lopsided grin on his face as you meet his twinkling gaze, and you are struck by the thought that he looks like a delighted child on Christmas, and you think everything is right again. If you could help him (and even Suguru to an extent), you’d be happy. Everything will be the same when you see the two of them again. It makes you think of living another life, and everything you’d be missing if the misfortunate events of your life hadn’t happened.

You watch as Megumi is handed two crepes. He begins to walk back, carefully balancing them in his grip.

“Earlier,” you say. “I was thinking about what life would’ve been like if I had never become a jujutsu sorcerer.” You think about the woman who rushed past you earlier, and the glinting band on her finger. Her palpable happiness. “I don’t know who or what I would’ve been in another life, but the fact that I’m here says something I guess. Right now, right here, I’m content.”

You have more than enough. You could never ask for more. You’d upset the precarious balance of the universe somehow. The same forgiving universe that had somehow deemed your unworthy existence deserving of happiness. As fleeting as you knew it to be. You were content. It was more than you knew you’d ever get.

Satoru goes silent, face discerningly blank. “Is it enough?”

“It is.” You’ve never needed much. You had grown up without much love at all, and to still somehow find so much of it was something of a miracle you were thankful for everyday. “It is, for me.”

The two of you sit in silence. A girl falls down in the sandbox, scraping her knees. Sitting upright, her lips wobble, fingers curling into her thighs as she tries not to cry. Seconds later, her father scoops her into his arms and they walk away. You become aware of your heart dully beating in your chest.

“I would find you,” Satoru says calmly, gaze burning. “In another life, I would still find you. The three of us would be together.”

The words fill something cavernous and aching in your chest. A wound that never healed right. A wound that grew as you did. Something that makes you selfish and sad and always leaves you wanting. It’s a dangerous thing.

You don’t know if you love or hate it. The inevitability of it all. The promise of happiness in his words. Satoru doesn’t break his promises, but you do. It’s why the both of you try not to make many in the first place.

You find yourself smiling. “You’ll get my hopes up,” you joke, resolving to take his words as just that, a joke. You’ll get what you deserve, one day. In this life or the next. Expecting any different would be…

Satoru opens his mouth to respond but Megumi returns, sticking Satoru’s crepe in his free hand. When Megumi takes your free hand with his own, he hands you the crepe the two of you decided to share. You stand, moving to be released from Satoru’s hand but his grip on you tightens.

You shoot him a look. “Satoru, let go.”

“I won’t,” he says with a scowl that says that the two of you have unfinished business. You would prefer he wouldn't. To Megumi: “How much to take a walk around the park by yourself?”

You are appalled. You hope your gaze conveys how pathetic he is being. “Satoru…”

Megumi takes a bite of the strawberry crepe. “No.”

Satoru sends the boy a flat stare that Megumi meets with his own. You finally yank your hand away from Satoru’s with an exasperated huff, and an overdramatic betrayed look crosses his face as he gapes at you. You smile at Megumi as he offers the crepe, which you take a bite of.

“Let’s forget about him,” you say pleasantly, swallowing a mouthful of sweet cream. The two of you start walking towards the street.“Should we stop by the record store on the way back?” You’d buy him any record he wanted. It was so hard to spoil Megumi. You liked to do it at every opportunity. It was your guilty pleasure despite all you had read about moderation for children.

“Yeah,” he quietly agrees. “I’d like that.”

The two of you leave Satoru behind in that park, a double chocolate nutella banana crepe in his hand.

#gojo satoru x reader #jjk x reader #geto suguru x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #ddao #m.jjk

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