#(too busy being the life of her husband's work party)

[jendoe]

tagged by the always lovely @chuckhansen to use this picrew!

🍓 jen doe | 🌼 maisie buchanan

🏡 renee callahan | 🩺 karin garcia

🧁 lyn collins |🔎 liz clairmont

tagging @phillipsgraves, @queennymeria, @denerims, @risingsh0t, @indorilnerevarine, @shellibisshe, @loriane-elmuerto, @echo3-1, @jackiesarch, @shadowglens, @leviiackrman, @arthrmorgann, @florbelles, @unholymilf, and whoever else wants to do this!! no pressure ofc mwah

[btsvt-bar]

hurts so good

pairing ꩜ mean husband!mingyu x afab!reader

content/genre ꩜ haters to lovers, ceo/mean husband mingyu, smut (18+ mdni)

author's note ꩜ not proofread . comments are appreciated!

warnings under the cut!

warnings ꩜ smut, fingering, masturbation (m. receiving), alcohol consumption, angry sex, unprotected sex, orgasm denial, creampie, light degrading, dom-ish mingyu, dirty talk, spanking (he slaps her ass like 4 times), begging.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・゜✭・

You and Mingyu first met when you were kids. Coming from rich families, you went to the same private school. And to be honest, you really hated him back then.

When you were teenagers, Mingyu was really popular. He was good-looking and smart, being one of the top students of the school. All the girls had a crush on him, even if he was mean to them.

He had always been self absorbed and rude to everyone. Especially to you, and you had no clue why.

You were the quiet, nerdy type. You kept it to yourself, being too focused on your grades and on getting into a good university. Plus, you were basically the only one who didn’t think he was hot shit — but, of course, you’d never say it out loud.

Both of you got into Business School, so you never really got rid of him. His annoying personality only got worse, making you his personal laughing stock.

It worsened when your families merged companies. Coming from the food and beverage industry, and being good friends, it felt natural to merge companies and create an empire bigger than it was before. And, of course, that union had to be sealed with the marriage of the heirs.

When your parents told you, you had a nervous breakdown. They didn’t understand why, labeling you as dramatic. Of course they wouldn’t get it, Mingyu posed as polite and respectful in front of them. But you knew better.

That’s how you ended up getting married to the man you despised. Needless to say, it was the worst day of your life.

Now, three years later, you’re still trapped in a marriage that feels more like a prison. You sleep in separate rooms and on the daily basis, you and Mingyu never really talk, unless it’s a work matter.

Also, you have a terrible sex life. You can count on a hand the amount of times the two of you did it. Yes, you are physically attracted to Mingyu. He has great abs and a big dick, plus delicious big arms and a toned chest. The few times you fucked, you were both tipsy and had had a fight before going out to some company party. It was always angry sex, and you never talked about it the morning after.

With your 4th anniversary approaching, people started asking when are you going to have kids. You dreaded this moment, but it seemed like you couldn’t scape it anymore. It got you thinking about your “marriage”, about how you wished things would change and how you wished Mingyu was a good husband.

As you do your makeup for the company dinner you have tonight, you try to be mentally prepared to be questioned, once again, about your pregnancy plans.

"Hurry up, we’re going to be late" Mingyu says outside your room. You finish putting on lipstick and grab your purse.

You find him waiting on the couch, looking really handsome in his all black tuxedo. His eyes scan you head to toe. His face remains emotionless, but you notice his eyes lingering a bit too long on your wine colored lips and modest cleavage.

"Let’s go."

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・゜✭・

The music is a bit loud, so you have to stay all the way across the room to chat properly with other people.

You are stuck talking to Mingyu’s friends’ wives. It’s not that you don’t like them, because you do, but the topic of the conversation is not something you want to discuss.

"Cheollie’s been so good to me since I told him I’m pregnant" Gwen says while smiling fondly at her husband, who's across the room. "I mean, he’s always been sweet, but now he’s so much more protective and loving…"

"Wonwoo was like that too" Claire comments. "And he’s just the perfect father. Always wanting to help me out. And he won’t admit, but he loves to prepare Yeji’s lunchbox." The other women coo, finding it adorable. But you feel your face twist into a sad expression.

You knew all of them were in an arranged marriage just like yours. How on earth you were the only one who got unlucky?

"What about you and Mingyu?" Mona, Jeonghan’s wife, asks you. "Are you planning to get pregnant soon?"

You take a sip of your gin and tonic, trying to come up with an answer. They all look at you expectantly, and you don’t have the guts to let them down.

"Oh, definitely! We’re trying" you lie. The other women cheer excitedly.

"You’re gonna have the cutest babies!" Claire says.

"Oh that’s for sure. And y/n will be the prettiest mamma ever!" Gwen gushes.

You start to feel bad about lying, so you finish your drink and walk away to grab another.

As you wait, you see Mingyu chatting and laughing with his friends. And it makes you kinda mad that he’s having fun, and you’re not. When you look back at where the other wives are, you see them caressing Gwen’s pregnant belly and you decide you’ve had enough. You walk over to Mingyu, his smile fading the second he spots you.

"What?" he asks in a harsh tone, left eyebrow raising.

"I wanna go home, I’m not feeling well" you say the first excuse that comes to mind.

"Are you for real?" Mingyu seems so annoyed. Seungcheol nudges him, letting out a quiet ‘bro’. Mingyu sighs. "Ok, whatever."

The ride home is tense. Mingyu was holding back so he wouldn’t make a scene in front of the driver, but as soon as you’re alone in your living room, he couldn’t hold his tongue anymore.

"Why do you always have to ruin the night? Honestly, Y/N, you’re so fucking annoying!" he spits out.

You roll your eyes, deciding not to take shit from him. "I was bored and wanted to come home. You could’ve stayed."

"No, I couldn’t. That would make me look bad."

Usually, you wouldn’t say what you wanted. You’d just ignore and go to your room. But today, after a few drinks, and having to hear for hours on end about how your friends’ husbands were amazing, you felt fed up with Mingyu’s bullshit.

"Maybe you should worry more about being a good husband than about faking it." you point out while taking off your heels.

"Excuse me?" his nostrils flare, signaling how angry he was.

You just shrug, not giving a fuck if he was mad. "It is what it is, Mingyu. You don’t even try to be nice to me, but you worry so damn much about how you’re perceived by others." By now, your purse was thrown on the nearest chair and you’re shouting at him. "I’m done trying to be nice, and I think we reached a point where we should get a divorce and move on. Our marriage is a sham and I’m so fucking done with you."

The man chuckles as his tongue pokes his inner cheek. He looks really annoyed. Mingyu sighs and empties his pockets, putting his stuff in a bowl on the small wooden counter.

You feel livid and his lack of response keeps your mouth running. "What’s so funny?"

"Nothing, just the fact that you think that this shitty situation is all on me." He rises his eyebrows. "Get over yourself, Y/N. None of us is willing to take the first step, that’s why our marriage is a shit show." Mingyu turns around and heads out to his room, but the next thing you say stops him dead in his tracks.

"Why aren't you willing to take the first step? What have I done that is so bad that you can't even be my friend?" A few tears escaped your eyes, but you were quick to wipe them away. "Does hurting me make you feel good or something?"

He had to give it to you. You are being really brave, questioning him and talking back.

The small bar cart catches his eyes and he decides that if you're finally having that conversation — one you should've had years ago —, he needs a drink to get through it. The room is filled with the sound of whiskey being poured. Mingyu takes a long sip, almost downing down the whole liquid, and refills his cup.

If he were to be completely honest, he would say he didn't even know why he hated you. He just did. Nowadays, he didn't mind your presence for the most part. However, when you hit his nerves, he wanted you gone. "Hating you is as natural as breathing for me. It's always been like this, why change it?"

"So we can, at least, coexist in peace? Have some fun, even? I'm not asking you to be husband of the year, but could try to be an ok one." You say with a tired tone, the whole situation already taking it's toll on you. Copying his actions, you poured some of the amber liquid for yourself. "You can get some tips from your friends. They're nice to their wives."

Mingyu snorts. "Yeah sure, if you're going to learn from your friends how to be a good wife…"

"I'm willing to try, Mingyu. But I'm not doing this on my own."

You both calmed down quickly, the heated beginning reduced to a low toned conversation. You’re impressed with how well things are going, considering the two of you usually shout and exchange offenses until someone walks away.

"We can try." His voice is quiet. Mingyu's staring at you, his eyes filled with undertones you don't comprehend yet. His moist lips are caught between his teeth. Shaking his head, he places the empty cup on the cart. "This is funny, you know."

"What?"

You can see he's conflicted between saying what's on his mind and keeping his mouth shut. "You can tell me, since we're being honest." You encourage him.

He looks you deeply in the eyes and says "We just called a truce like two minutes ago and now my mind keeps whispering that if we were a real couple, this would be the moment to kiss and make up."

Your mouth gapes in shock. The few times you had sex before, you hadn’t kissed. Mingyu would fuck you from behind, fast, hard and with a lot of pent up anger. And that was it. So you were caught off guard by his words. Seeing your expression, Mingyu quickly added: "The alcohol got to my head, pretend I never said anything."

Before he can try to leave again, you grab his bicep. "I hate to admit it, but you kind of have a point…"

Both of you start to feel this weird heat spreading under your skins. You sigh deeply. It’s weird you know precisely what’s underneath those black clothes. Mainly because you feel like you’re going to have sex him with for the first time.

"Want me to fuck you senseless until we spend all our anger and then we can start over?" He offers with a crooked smile you never saw before.

You feel slick pooling in your panties, your body already reacting to his filthy mouth. This flirty, sexy side of Mingyu is new to you, but you’re already loving it.

"Are you for real?"

Mingyu towers over you, making you step back until you reach the nearest wall. "Do I look like I'm messing around? Do I look like I won't fuck you until we both forget we hated each other in the first place?"

His serious eyes and deep voice make you sigh and bite your lower lip, fully invested in him. He reaches out and caresses your cheek before pulling you in for a kiss.

You both moan at the contact. His tongue dominates yours in a second, imposing a fast rhythm. Your core twists, tingling in a way that nearly hurts. Mingyu grunts when you close your arms around his neck and pulls gently at his hair.

The room temperature rises, leaving you both hot and bothered when you break the kiss. "Go to your room." Mingyu instructs and you comply. The walk is torturous, with shaky legs and your skimpy lacy panties sticking to your folds.

You’re shaking a little when you sit down on your bed. The night went from 0 to a 100 in minutes and you honestly don’t even want to think much about it for now.

"Can I come in?" Mingyu asks on the other side of the door, knocking lightly on the wood.

"Yeah, sure."

Mingyu took off his blazer and necktie, and the first buttons of his shirt are open, revealing his toned chest. Once again, you evaluate his beefy body proportions and purr quietly. Gosh, he’s hot!you think.

The hunky man looks around, analyzing the stuff you have in your room. You realize it’s the first time he enters it. "Do you want to keep going?"

Your eyes meet his and, for the first time ever, you see he’s actually worried about you. You limit yourself to nodding. "I’m gonna need you to say it, Y/N."

"Yes. Please get over here." You plea. Mingyu groans and crosses the room. His pants feel tight and uncomfortable, his cock pulsating with each step.

He gets on top of you, bunching your dress up on your waist. "Fuck…" he hisses when he sees your panties. You feel him caressing your clit over the lace and hold back a moan.

Mingyu moves the fabric to the side, easily sliding his fingers through your dripping cunt. "So fucking wet and I barely touched you. Do you get off on fighting with me?"

Your face grows hot, but you’re not sure if it’s because of his words or actions. He teases your hole, prodding a finger in your entrance. All air leaves your lungs. You let out a whimper, which makes Mingyu chuckle.

"So responsive." He removes his hand, his eyes searching for yours again. "If I knew you’re such a horny slut, I would’ve done this a long time ago."

"Shut up." You sass, your heart pounding in your chest. "Just shut up and actually do something."

"You better watch your fucking mouth." He manhandles you until you’re laying on your stomach. He moves you on his lap and uncovers your ass.

To your surprise, he slaps your right butt cheek. You yelp, feeling your blood pumping quickly through your body. He repeats his action, this time with more intensity.

"Cat got your tongue?" He mocks when you stay silent. Truth is, you’re clamping your lips together so you don’t moan. "You’re soaking through your panties… Is spanking one of your kinks?"

Mingyu gives you another sharp slap, but this time he massages your flash to soften the blow.

"One more." Your voice sounds croaky as you speak.

"As you wish." He complies to your request, giving you the sharpest spank so far. You whimper and Mingyu smiles, pleased with himself.

Taking advantage of your position, he slides your panties off and pulls down the zipper of your dress. With his help, you undress.

You’re laying naked on his lap and just the sight of your bare back and red ass makes the blood in Mingyu’s body flow directly to his cock. He sighs and separate your legs just enough to touch your naked pussy again.

"Mingyu please." You cry out loud, needing him to slip his fingers in your hole.

"Please what?" He plays dumb and you feel the smirk on his voice. "I don’t know what you want, you’re gonna have to say it."

You sob in frustration. "Did you really think I was going to make things easy for you?" Mingyu’s hand ghosts over your body, giving you goosebumps from the heat he irradiates. "I hate you, remember?"

This is absolute torture. Your body is boiling with desire and need, you skin nearly burning up. Mingyu traces your tights, his soft touch giving you goosebumps. "Finger me. Please, I really need it. Please please please." You beg and Mingyu chuckles again, amuzed by your desperate tone.

He parts your legs a bit as his big hands trail the path from the back of your tights to your folds. You feel one of his fingers tease your dripping hole and you clench around nothing.

You’re so wet that his two fingers slide easily into you. Your inner walls clamp down on his digits and he groans. "You’re so tight, Y/N. Can’t wait to feel you on my dick again."

Mingyu begins to finger fuck you with a lazy pace, pulling out completely just to push back in at once. Your head feels cottony, like your brain weights nothing. Out of instinct, you bite your own hand to keep your moans from falling off your lips. Your hips move with a mind of its own, pushing back to meet Mingyu’s movements. Soon enough he hits that gummy spot inside you that makes you shiver. He notices you’re close to your climax, so, out of spite, he stops his stimulation.

"Why?" you cry out, tears accumulating in your eyes. "I was so close!"

"Because it’s fun" he laughs while stroking your ass tenderly. "Be good, lay down and spread your legs for me so I can make you cum."

Your limbs feel like jelly when you scramble around to get on your back. Mingyu gets up and pushes his dress pants down along with his black boxers. His cock stand hard and proud, the red tip glossed with pre cum. You muster the strength to get on your knees and approach him, your hands grabbing his shirt to start unbuttoning it.

You work your way up his body, taking each button out of its house. When you take the last one out, your caress his big chest, feeling his strong muscles under your sweaty palms. You smooth your way up to his shoulders and push his shirt down. He’s finally naked in front of you, in all his glory.

You trail his arms and abs, all the way down to his rock hard cock. When you wrap your hands around him, Mingyu lets out a sigh of relief. You stroke him slowly while savoring his low, deep grunts in your ear. Soon enough, you quicken your pace. Meanwhile, all you can think about is his cock splitting you open and you feel yourself getting wetter.

"Tha-that’s enough." He reaches for your wrist to stop you after a couple minutes.

Surprisingly, he pulls you in for another kiss. This time, it’s a slow, passionate one. Without separating your lips, he leads you to lay down again. The new position makes Mingyu’s hips align with yours, and you start rutting each other like animals on heat.

"Seeing you between my legs is so hot." you confess when you part the kiss to breathe. "But it could be better."

"Yeah? How so?" Mingyu pokes his cheek with his tongue, his confidence unwavering.

You bite your lower lips for a second. "You’ll look hotter inside me, dear husband."

His smile falters, his eyes turning darker and darker with desire. You know you said just the right thing to spur him on.

"I’d hold onto something if I were you."

You decide to ground yourself by hugging him. Without hesitation, Mingyu pushes in in one quick, firm trust. He’s swallowed in by your warm, soft walls. You see when his eyes roll back in pleasure, and his reaction boosts your confidence through the roof. On the other hand, his big cock splitting you open twists and tightens the knot on your core even more. You know it won’t require much effort for you to cum.

"Please move" you whim and kiss his lips softly. "I need you to move."

Mingyu gives in and imposes a fast, rough pace. You sink your nails on his back, trying to keep yourself from moving too much. He slides in and out of you deliciously, reaching all the right places. You moan loudly on his ear, and he huffs and puffs on yours. The loud sounds of skin slapping, added with the wet noises coming from your wetness, teleport both of you to a world of your own. A world where the only thing that matters is Mingyu’s rough thrusts and the way your insides mold perfectly to accommodate his dick.

After what it feels like forever, Mingyu folds your legs to your chest, and the position makes him reach new places inside of you. It’s when he starts rubbing circles on your clit that you feel on the verge of frenzy. "I’m almost there." You announce.

His hips redouble efforts, and within a few seconds, and a chant of "cum for me, dear wife" your mind turns blank and your soul is lifted off of your body.

You nearly pass out, all the stimulation being too much for you. Seeing you so blissed out pushes Mingyu over the edge before he has the chance to pull out. He grunts as he covers your walls with his warm milk. Your arms fall limp on his back, and Mingyu’s strength also falters, making him drop his weight on top of you.

He rubs his nose on your neck in an affectionate gesture. You smooth your hands on his back in a retributive way. The two of you stay silent for a while, enjoying the proximity and giving yourselves time to come back down.

When Mingyu slips out of you, a stream of white floods out of your messed up hole.

"Fuck, I should’ve pulled out." Mingyu searches for your eyes, his brown orbs filled with worry. You smile softly at him.

"It’s ok, I don’t mind." You reassure him. "Just help me clean up, yeah?"

Mingyu gets up immediately and enters your en suite. He comes back a minute later with a wet cloth in hand.

"You ok?" He asks while cautiously rubbing it against your sensitive cunt.

"I’ll probably limp tomorrow, but I guess that’s the downside of fucking your hater, right?" You joke and he chuckles while shaking his head.

"Well, I guess we’re sort of friends now."

"Yes, definitely." You agree.

He discards the towel and lays back next to you. You’re under the sheets now, and your body feels completely spent. "You’re not going to sleep, are you?"

You nod, feeling your heavy lids take the best of you. "I sure am."

Mingyu gets on top of you again, and hold your chin to make you look at him. "I’ll give you 30 minutes to recover, dear wife." The stupid nickname rolls out of his tongue with an almost tender laugh.

"I thought you were fucking me until we spent all of our anger." you state, struggling to keep your eyes open. "I don’t feel angry anymore."

"I do." His eyes hold mysteries you’re yet to discover. "I’m not done hating you yet."

His low deep voice stirs your insides. You sigh, feeling your heartbeat increase again. "30 minutes and you can hate me all you want."

"Deal." He presses a kiss to your lips and goes back to the empty side of the bed.

You feel him scrambling around looking for the TV remote control. As you let your tiredness get the best of you, all you can think about is that you’re going to fight with everything that you have to make things work out between the two of you.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・゜✭・

© btsvt-bar, 2024

m.list ♡

read the sequel: down bad

[goldsbitch]

My name

Busy schedules don't allow Y/N and her boyfriend Lando Norris much down time to chill with her friends. But missing a wedding is a no go.

fluffy fluff, wedding, one shot, for the vibes only

It was almost a stroke of luck that Y/N's friends managed to pick a date for their wedding on a day that Lando could attend. This was a rare opportunity, while she accompanied him often during his events or outings, more than often he was unable to be there as her partner on her personal affairs.

Missed family gatherings, friends birthdays and grill parties. She accepted that part of their relationship, with the hope that in the future, it might come to change. They'd been dating for two years now - if she had to pick the brightest days of her life so far, it would in this time frame.

There was lot of excitement in the late summer air. One of her best friends was marrying a guy she became good buddy with over the years. And Lando would finally be joining her, as her partner. No more half smiles following the question "Would Lando join us this time?". These two friends marrying each other were a nice inspiration for the kind of relationship Y/N strived for. And Lando was that for her - a partner, lover, friend and the one to always make her laugh. But some of the people in her life were not convinced that he was good for her, mainly for the lack of his presence. She did not want the opinions of other to spoil their relationship. However, it would be a lie to say that her heart wasn't jumping around with happiness at the prospect of having him join them.

Her friends organized their dream wedding in a lovely estate somewhere in South of France. Small village remote from any city, safe from any prying eyes. It was refreshing from the flashing lights of racing tracks. Eighty people, all mostly friends with each other.

Y/N came in earlier with the main couple, in order to help them put everything in place. Two days of hard work navigating typical struggled of wedding organizing, with tomorrow being the big day. Regular guest were coming in, but she was only waiting for him, counting every minute.

Those prep days were packed with dealing with logistics and all this wedding usually concern. Going back and forth and trying to make everything perfect for the main event. But, she manages to find a moment of solutide to take in the beauty, the smell of late harvest, sun kissed valleys and heavy summer air, that set everything in. Having the bottom of your dress shiver with light breeze is the epitome of bliss. Life was good. And for the main part, she would get to experience all this with her love around her arm.

//

The two getting married? They were something else.

"Babe, what the fuck are these glasses?" said the bride to be as she watched the caterers setting up table for an evening dinner buffet.

"Well, you said yes, to them, remember? Back in May," was how the groom replied hastily. Y/N watched, knowing well enough that the strange looking glasses that were too big for her friends small hands were definitely not what the bride would have picked. She smirked as she watched them bicker playfully.

"They look like some futuristic ashtrays," the bride continued, shooting arrows playfully at he soon to be husband.

"Hm. Isn't that cool?" he said, trying to talk himself out of it. They were both strong opinionated people, so this was not a rare debate.

"No? How do you think this suits our late summer garden vibe?" she said, pointing around to the fields.

"You said yes to them, I remember specifically..." he defended without a beat.

"My mom's going to think we smoke."

"Well...we could use them as ashtrays," he said, inspecting the items.

The bride threw her hands up, not believing the game her "soon to be" was playing. "Babe, we don't smoke!"

He mimicked her hand gesture ironically. "We could start!"

"Just admit you've made a fuck up, honey, and we're good."

"That will never happen. This is all part of the plan."

Y/N observed and chucked, knowing well enough that the best thing to do was to stay out of their way.

A small quiet whisper came from behind Y/N. "Is this how they always act?" Shiver down her spine. She smiled, because she could recognize that voice anywhere. Heard it thousand times in the morning, in the middle of a busy day and on too many late night phone call to count. She turned her head slightly only to find him standing right behind her, his head now resting on her shoulder.

"Hi, muppet," he continued as he wrapped his hands around her, hugging her from behind. "I'm sorry I am a little late. Turbulences held us up."

The two stood there, as young lovers would. Completely wrapped in their own world.

"Did they? I completely lost track, as you see, big problems over here," she said and pointed inconspicuously to the couple still bickering about glasses. It wasn't technically true, she managed to get her phone out every other minute as they were unpacking stuff. But that was too embarrassing to admit.

She finally turned around to give him a welcome kiss, a much needed physical contact after not seeing him for almost three weeks. "Do you think we could take a walk around the garden? I would to get my head clear before facing other people," he said sheepishly. The last few race weekends had been very tough on him.

"I would be more than happy," she replied with a smile.

The scenery was too good to be true. Never ending fields of trees, heavy air sitting on the top of everyone trying to breathe and smell of hot soil and dried leaves cut though it all. They walked hand in hand in silence for a while, the sound of cracking branches accompanying them with every step. These two had spoken a lot in the past few weeks, every day it was either a phone call of few videos shared mapping their separate days. Texting was not good enough for these two. Lando was pretty much touch starved. Even though he was touched by random people more than an average person would be, as some fans felt like it was ok to do so. It made him miss the consensual touch he shared with his girlfriend more than ever. Girlfriend was an interesting word, felt outdated for the feelings he had for her. A small box had been accompanying him whenever he saw her for a while now. But he figured that highjacking someone else's wedding with his own proposal was a bit rude and selfish. He was grateful that this time he did not bring the box with him, as he was not sure he'd be able to resist proposing when he saw how the light reflected from her hair made it all shine, like a fresh jar of honey. A white dress would definitely suit her and his last name as well. He knew she'd want to keep her maiden name too and was more than fine with that. But to add "Norris" behind it was his ultimate goal.

"You seem more quiet than usual," she asked after a moment, being more than capable of reading his face. He was slowly letting go of his stress from the races.

"I'm loosing myself in the thoughts about your dress," he replied cheekily, letting her think he is talking about the teal summer dress she was wearing at the moment.

"Are you, now?" she winked and pulled her dress up slightly, only stopping at her bikini line.

"Oh, you can't do that to me," he said, defeated.

"You sure?" She stopped walking, came closer to him and put her arm around his neck. "But it's been so long since you've touched me," she added, knowing this will set him off. Teasing and seducing him was like a second language to her. She god real close and rubbed her core against his crotch.

"You're asking for trouble, Ms....Y/L/N," he nearly had a Freudian slip there. He panicked slightly and decided to kiss her immediately. She didn't seem to notice. Once he calmed down a bit he slid his hand down to he legs and the went back up to cup her ass and pulling her dress up again. "I would have you right here and now," he mumbled into their kiss and she smiled. Absolutely in love.

"We'll have to wait until the evening, we have a very nice room..."

"I don't care about that, I want to cum into you right here and now," he continued and bit her upper lip lightly.

"Anyone could walk by," she kept resisting.

"As if I care."

She laughed and broke their kiss. "We have to go now. I still have to help the poor bride with the decorations."

He signed overly dramatically. "You are making my life a living hell, Y/N."

"You can punish me later," she ended and got out of his embrace and started heading back to the estate. "Come on," she instructed as Lando watched her ass as she walked away. Norris. It's going to suit her.

//

Evening marked shared laughter, catching up with many friends, local wine with cheese and hands held under the table. Only once it was really happening did Y/N started to notice how much she needed this. Being able to "show" Lando off to her friends for longer than a short appearance. They got to finally know him, not only listen to stories about him. Oh and he was marvelous that evening. Charming, funny, criminally handsome - and always by her side. He was happy to be there. One of the reason being finally able to listen to the people she spoke about, but also to let loose and not have to think about what he says. These were no sponsors, interviewers or teammates. He loved that they cared about her more than him. It was a nice change. And he was on board with that, enjoying the fact that she was the star and not him.

//

The wedding day had swung by in a blur and suddenly, Y/N and Lando were sitting in a small local chapel, watching her friends making a mark on their relationship.

But Lando was not watching them. He was watching his now girlfriend. With the sight he had in the corner of his eye, the thoughts hanging in the back of his mind were getting louder and louder.

The ceremony was a non serious and cheerful one, the priest making many jokes while still keeping the atmosphere together. As far as ceremonies go, this was an honest one. The only thing to bring people out the holy romantic vibe this gave off was an unapologetically explicit kiss the bride and groom shared as they got wed. It was more like watching drunk teenagers make out. Some people laughed, some people cheered and the rest were slightly mortified. Y/N was one of the people to turn their heads away from the sight, she had known this girl ever since they were kids, this was a little too much. Lando found her reaction amusing, as he had heard many stories of her and her friend to know that she'd witnessed way more extreme things. "Look at you, prude," he whispered to her ear as he watched the bride and groom fight with their tongues.

"I refuse to accept this," Y/N said, keeping it up with the grandmas in the room.

"Well, if this repulses you, then I'm afraid you're going to die of embarrassment at our wedding," he said as if it was no big deal. But to Y/N it was. They had joked about marriage few times, but Lando used a different tone of voice this time. But she had been secretly dreaming about it for a while now.

"You're going to have tie me down if you're planning on doing that," she said, pointing at the pair, not quite sure how to process that he was probably thinking about their marriage too.

"So far, you've never said no to my plans," he winked at her.

Y/N smiled and turned her eyes to the ground. If someone had asked why she smiled so much, she'd say it was because of her friend's wedding. Though it would only be one half of the truth. She held his hand, as they walked out of the church. For some reason, it almost felt like a rehearsal.

[writer-in-theory]

Ever since he can remember, everyone has always said Steve looked like his Mama.

He acts like her too—that persistent kindness and protectiveness for the people they love, the ability to talk to people with relative ease, even the propensity for having a bit of an attitude. Even his soft brown eyes and the texture of his hair, all of it was Maggie Harrington.

Maggie always said that Steve was her greatest accomplishment, one of her best friends. She was so proud of her son, first for being Hawkins High's first All-State Champ in swimming and then for being a good role model in town. She'd missed the moment when he began to distance from her, from his parents, until she hardly knew anything about his life. She thinks it might've been because of Robert.

Steve Harrington could only have the best in store for him, which is why she'd allowed Robert to be tough with him. He knew what it meant to build a good future, what it would take to find happiness and stability. So she'd let Robert yell at him for throwing a party at their house and allowing a poor girl to go missing there. And she'd thought it had worked, based on the way Steve started bringing around sweet Nancy Wheeler and stopped hanging out with the Hagan boy. She thought it had worked.

When the Harringtons came home from their last business trip to Chicago, Steve was being dropped off by Police Chief Hopper. It looked like he'd been in a fight, and as much was confirmed when the Chief told him to stay out of trouble. Robert had been furious, ready to lay into Steve about the Harrington name and respectability, but then a group of kids Maggie didn't recognize tumbled out of the car, too, all hugging Steve and thanking him. He was their hero, they'd told the Harringtons, Steve was the best babysitter ever. Steve had never showed interest in babysitting before, but the way all of those kids so clearly looked up to him had Maggie in near tears.

Maggie had a feeling the mall job was a mistake. She'd felt it the moment Robert made the decision, loudly proclaiming that their son would learn what it was like to work a tough job, that he'd realize how lucky he had it that there was a family business he could be hired in. Maggie hated the humiliated look their Steven had given the first time he set out for the mall in that sailor's uniform, but her husband knew what it was like to be a teen boy, surely he had Steve's best interests at heart.

But then she'd gotten the call that there had been a fire, that Steve was involved and they needed to get down to the hospital. If she thought the fight in '84 looked bad, then nothing could have prepared her for the sight of her son in that hospital bed, vomiting profusely into a container and wincing through the obvious pain in his head. The morning after, that same group of kids fought the hospital staff to visit Steve, demanded it. The one with curly hair and the youngest girl loudly proclaimed that Steve had saved their lives, that he'd risked himself to make sure they were safe. Her baby was an actual goddamn town hero and she'd almost missed it, she almost never knew because she was too busy worrying about his future.

Maggie stopped worrying about family names and legacies, after that. She was the first to ask how his shifts at the movie store were and never minded when his talkative friend came over for dinner. Maggie kept waiting for the moment Steve would admit the two of them were dating, but he kept insisting they were friends, best friends.

She never saw Eddie Munson coming.

After the fourth tragedy to befall Steve, Maggie was convinced he needed to get out of Hawkins before it destroyed him. No one could find Steve in the immediate aftermath of the earthquake. He wasn't at the shelter, or the hospital, or with any other search parties. She'd worried briefly that the serial killer had gotten him, too, that they'd have to see what was so horrific about the method of killing that had left the town sparking a witch hunt for the guy.

He was found later at the Munson trailer, wearing military-style gear and bleeding out from his abdomen and neck. Maggie would never understand how an earthquake could cause that level of damage, nor the kind that was found on Eddie Munson just beside him. When Steve had woken up in the hospital, he'd simply told her that he couldn't talk about it, that it was better if she didn't know. She thinks that might be true.

Once Steve recovered, he stayed by the Munson boy's bedside every day. He'd bring a book, or a hacky sack, anything to keep himself busy while Eddie slept off his injuries. And when he came home, Steve was with him constantly. They were volunteering, he'd told her.

Then one day, months after the earthquake, Steve came home looking nervous.

"Mom." Maggie ached for the days when he'd come waddling into the living room screaming Mama, missed when he felt like he could tell her everything. When had that disappeared? "I need to tell you something."

"Of course, Stevie. You can tell me anything." Steve winced in the way she figured he would: they both know that hadn't been true in years.

Steve shuffled on his feet, wrung his hands together and worried them through his hair. Finally he stood ramrod straight, eyes focused directly on hers as he blurted the truth out. "Mom, I like guys. And girls. It's called being bisexual and I'm not sorry for it. I can pack a bag tonight if I have to, but I won't pretend anymore. I won't."

It was supposed to be scary. Maggie knows the version of her four years ago would have been terrified by the statement, angry or upset. Maybe she still is a little scared, only because she knows what the world is like for people who are different. She used to be upset by people who were different. In '83, she might've kicked Steve out for the fear of it all. But looking at him now, she saw the kid who drove those middle schoolers to the arcade because he could, and who saved peoples' lives in the mall at the near expense of his own, the guy who believed Eddie Munson was innocent even when the entire town had turned on him out of fear of the Other. She saw Steve Harrington, her darling son who'd grown up before she even realized it, becoming far greater a man than she could have ever hoped for.

"How long have you two been dating? You and Eddie Munson?" Maggie asked gently, a smile working its way on her face. She'd wondered why he hadn't dated anyone after Nancy, but maybe it was simply that he wasn't telling her about that part of his life anymore.

Steve's eyes widened, lips parting like he was surprised by the response. He floundered a little, looking around for an explanation. "Um. Since last summer, we met at the mall. How did you...?"

Maggie laughed then, far brighter than it ever had been in years. "I know when my son's in love. I just didn't know where to look, didn't notice the answer was right there."

"You're not...mad? Disappointed?"

"Honey," Maggie sighed, taking a few steps forward so she could grab onto his arms. "Steven Robert Harrington, you are my son. I will always love you, no matter what. I'm so sorry I ever ever made you feel otherwise. All I've ever wanted for you is happiness, and if that's with Eddie Munson then that's that."

"Mom," Steve croaked, voice cracking around the word as he pulled her in for a hug. She could feel him shake in her arms, sniffling like he was trying to hide the tears. "Do you want to meet him? Eddie, I mean, do you want to...?"

"He's outside?"

"He came over to support me, in case we needed to, well." In case his parents were kicking him out. God, where had they gone so wrong? "Do you want to?"

"Please," Maggie answered quietly, knowing this wouldn't be enough to make up for the years of wrong they'd done. She wanted to know her son, wanted to know the people who made him happiest. She wanted to hear about his day and know that if something ever went wrong that he would call his parents himself, not wait for the hospital or the police to do so. "Please."

Then Steve was bringing in Eddie Munson, who stood out in the pristine, polished Harrington home but who made Maggie's son's eyes light up in a way she'd never seen them. He was smiling, holding his hand out for a handshake.

"Mama, this is Eddie," Steve was saying, and Maggie could cry because it felt like she'd done something right, because she could see how deeply in love Steve was with Eddie because it was a mirror of her own expression when she looked at Robert. This was her son, and her future son-in-law, and Maggie couldn't be prouder.

[battymommastuff]

The Loop [Happy Birthday]

Batmom x Batfamily

Prompt: Your husband and children decide to throw you a surprise birthday party. What could possibly go wrong?

TW : DARK THEMES AND DEATH

When it came to your birthday, it was more you treating your family. Instead of breakfast in bed with a bouquet of flowers, your family was greeted with a massive breakfast. Every time they told you that it was unnecessary; They were more than capable of making you breakfast. 

Every year you never asked for anything for your birthday. You had everything you could ever want. What more could you ever need? 

"Breakfast was amazing Y/N!" Barbara said as she sat in the kitchen with you while you washed the dishes. Another tradition on your birthday was to give Alfred a day off. Sometimes he wondered if it was his birthday instead of yours. 

"Thank you, darling." You said with a small laugh. While Barbara kept you company, down below in the batcave; The rest of your family were hard at work. 

"Father, I think this object can wait. Mother's balloons need to be blown up." Damian said as he held a purple balloon in his hands. He, Dick, and Jason were busy blowing up balloons for the surprise party tonight. Almost everyone in the city had been invited, and it was going to be the party of the decade. Everything had to be perfect for you. 

"There was a reason that Ra's wanted this, and I'm going to figure it out." Bruce said as he studied the mysterious object in his hands. Damian felt a slight twinge in his heart after hearing his grandfather's name. Being here so long, he sometimes forgot about that part of his life. He preferred this one so much more. 

"There's plenty of time to figure it out. I'm sure the mystery will still be here after tonight." Duke said as he took the object from Bruce. He examined it curiously then set it down on a nearby table. He was the only one that hadn't been there that night when it was taken from the League of Assassins 

Bruce let out a huff before he turned around and looked at each of the people he'd come to see as his children. 

"What do you need me to do first?"

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No one will ever know how she managed to do it, but Cass somehow got you to dress completely formal. She managed to do this while not giving away the surprise. She just acted like she wanted to play dress up with you as a way to bond. Next, she was dragging you down the hallway to 'take a picture'. When you got to the top of the staircase, you were met with a decorated room and a large crowd. 

"SURPRISE!"

Your hand flew to your chest as you looked at everyone in shock, then back to Cass who held a smirk on her face. "You sneaky little thing." You cooed while squishing her cheeks between your pointer finger and thumb. You were soon joined by your family in a massive group hug. Damian was in high protest to this idea, but refused to be the one furthest from you. He wiggled his way into your arms causing Bruce to be pushed out of the way. 

The party went on perfectly. Each one of your children danced with you to a different song, and your smile didn't leave your face. This was a night that you were going to remember for the rest of your life. It was another reminder of why you loved your family so much. Your final dance before you would take a little break was with Barbara. 

You held her hands as the both of you swayed as best you could with her in her wheel chair. At first she denied your request to dance for that very reason, but you wouldn't let her skip out on the fun. 

Barbara was the first to notice a little red dot climbing it's way up your body. Jason was the second, "Mom! Get down!" He yelled as Barbara put her hands on your hips to push you down. It was too late...

The sound of glass shattering halted the entire party as a bullet whizzed into the room and headed right for you. 

The blood...

The screaming...

The chaos....

Every Wayne family member stood frozen as they watched your body collapse to the ground. A bullet hole right between your eyes. Such accuracy. Your family couldn't shake the shock they felt. This couldn't be real, you couldn't be dead...

Barbara being the closest to you looked down at her dress which had a small blood splatter on it from the bullet entering your body. Her eyes are as wide as saucers, and her skin paler than snow. She watched a pool of blood form around your head and the front of her wheelchair. Her ears ringing from the shock she felt having witnessed this so close. 

Dick was the first one to you after he found the will to move. He collapsed on the ground, not caring if blood was staining his suit pants. "Mom? Mom!" He cried out hoping that you were somehow still alive. The bullet went clean through, and he could see the blood pool through the hole. He clutched your body in his arms hoping that you would hold him in return. 

One by one your children crowded around your corpse. Each one of them saying their own prayer in hopes you would come back. Each one of them talking to your lifeless body hoping for a response. All they got was a lifeless stare. 

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Jim Gordon approached Dick slowly. He had Damian tucked under his arm as the young boy hid his face in his older brother's chest. He didn't want the news to see him crying, but everyone knew that he was. "We have to take her body in for an autopsy. Can you get him to let us take her?" He asked gently then gestured to Bruce. 

He was sitting in the drying blood pool with your body in his arms. Tears streamed down his face as his mind flashed back to the night he lost his parents. Him holding his mother's body in the same way that he was holding yours.  He blamed himself for his parent's death, and now he was blaming himself for yours. If he hadn't married you, then you would be alive. You would be safe. Of course he wouldn't be. He wouldn't have the love of his life, but your fate wouldn't have been this. 

"Bruce? They need to take her body." Stephanie said as she crouched down next to him. Her hand hesitantly rested on his shoulder. She watched as Bruce shook his head, and held you closer to his chest. He heard them unzipping the body bag, and he couldn't bring himself to let you go. Stephanie looked to Tim, who had been standing with Jason and Duke. Jason hadn't said a word since the police arrived. Duke was staying by his side to make sure he wasn't going to do something reckless. 

After some more convincing, Bruce finally allowed himself to be separated from you. He watched as they picked your body up, and put it into the bag. He felt the bile rise into his throat as the zipper slowly covered your body. 

The family gathered around each other to comfort one another. They found themselves in the same group hug, but instead of laughter and love, it was filled with sorrows and sobs. 

"S-Sir...this was left for you." Alfred said as he held a music box in his hand. His hands were shaking as he tried to hold himself together. Alfred knew someone had to be strong, and he wasn't going to let it be any of the people he called family. Bruce stepped forward to take the music box. He opened it, and a clock slowly lifted up and the hands started spinning. A sweet song filled the air, and the Batfamily felt their eyes start to droop.

"What's going on?" Tim asked as he leaned on Stephanie for support. Barbara was the first one to succumb to the powerful feeling. Her body slumped and then fell out of her chair. Dick tried to get to her, but he passed out as well. One by one each member fell to the ground seemingly in a deep sleep. Bruce was the last, he collapsed to the ground with the last thing he saw being the music box. 

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Bruce shot up with a gasp, and looked around frantically. He was in his bed, in his pajamas. He looked at the time, and it was six in the morning. He looked over to your side of the bed where he saw that it was messy. As if you had just gotten up. His eyes then moved to the bathroom door where he could see the light on. 

"Y/n?" He called out, and felt his heart drop into his stomach when he saw you step out with a sleepy smile on your face. Your smile turned to concern when you saw how your husband was looking at you.

"Bruce? What's wrong?" You asked, crossing the room to sit on the bed with him. Bruce wanted to tell you everything. He wanted to tell you how he watched you get shot in the head. How he held your lifeless body, but it didn't matter. It was a dream...all a dream.

"Nothing, just a bad dream." He said then kissed your shoulder. You gave him a weird look, but shook it off and kissed his cheek. 

"Go back to sleep, I'll wake you up after I make my famous birthday breakfast." You said and did a little dance. Before Bruce could react, the door slammed open, and you saw each of your children staring at you as if they'd seen a ghost. 

"What is wrong with you guys?" You then stood up with a slight pout, "Don't tell me you beat me to breakfast, I wanted to make it." You hoped that breakfast was the issue. Soon after you said that, you were nearly tackled by several people. You didn't know why your children were so happy to see you when they saw you a few hours ago. 

After peeling yourself away from your family, you left to make your birthday breakfast. You had no clue what had gotten into any of them, but it wasn't going to stop your birthday tradition. 

[awniie]

Your husband Namani ୨ৎ ⠂°⠄🕯

little piece about namani kento as your smitten hubby (was supposed to be drabble + headcannons but i got a lil carried away)

(i gave up after a while but i wanted to post something)

———

content: female!reader , light smut , p in v , housewife reader , lowercase + ass writing skills lmao , virgin!reader , not proof read , pathetic attempt at fluff

nanami kento who’d you married a couple months ago, and you couldn’t be happier with. He was your dream man, caring, loving thoughtful, and just perfect. The time you guys first interacted was something straight out of a christmas hallmark movie. You two met at a fancy restaurant that you worked at. He had been attending a business meeting that had been horribly dull until he laid his eyes on you. The way the work so dutifully for the large party, you seemed so outgoing and friendly. Never complaining nor making a single grimace. (because you knew they had money and you needed that extra tip ) Regardless, he had a respect for women who worked hard. Of course, the way your uniform skirt hugged at the swell of your thighs was attention-stealing enough. He’d had caught your eye as well. His honey-blonde hair, the size of his biceps, and his stoicism is what initially drew you in. “And what would you like to drink sir?” You asked him, voice sugared and smile perfected just for men like him. “W-water.” Kento stuttered, sharp eyes suddenly clouded, drifting over your smaller frame. He cleared his throat and straightened his tie. “Water, please.” He reiterated himself with a monosyllabic tone. Yeah, he was the one.

nanami kento worked up the nerves to write his number below the check signature. He handed the tray back to you, and cleared his throat as you noticed his number along with “come with me to dinner?” written in a neat cursive. You gave him a coy smile and tucked the note into the thin pocket of your apron. “I’d love too.” You told him, waving goodbye to the table. The blond found himself staring after you, warm blush dusted across his pale cheeks. The rest was history as they might say. You guys dating for a couple years, getting to know each other, discovering new things together, and building the blueprint of your upcoming future.

nanami kento who after marrying you, started to care less and less about his job. It was the sole thing he lived for before, taking up his time, energy and thoughts . But now his focus was elsewhere. It was on a woman who he’d met at a restaurant, a woman with her own identity with uniqueness interests and a personality that belonged solely to her. A woman he somehow manage to catch. You were the woman he would treat as his most prized possession, keeping his loving hold steady over you for as long as he could.

nanami kento who before you, woke up at 5; got dressed by 6 and was at work by 7 had tweaked his morning schedule to fit his now married life. He’d set his phone alarm to go off at 6, but would you blame him? He’d need the extra time to rot the morning away with his new wife :( You’d be pressed against his back, arms enclosed around his chest with your sleepy head neatly tucked into the warmth of his neck. He didn’t mind you being the bigger spoon, it just made getting up in the mornings so, so much harder. As he reluctantly tried to pry himself from your relentless grip, nanamni could feel your long, soft lashes flutter against his neck. “Namani…t’s too earlyyy…” you’d drawl, jaw heavy and mouth dry from your sleep. He’d pull himself away even harder, but you were strong and kept his large body flush against your smaller one. “i have to go work today…” he’d whisper to you, which he knew you were aware of this, it was just the routine you’d guys go through every morning. You didn’t respond to his comment, hoping it would mean he’d stay longer. Namani smiled and let you snuggle against him more. He knew how you were though, you’d be greedy for maybe another 10 minutes more before you felt guilty and release your relentless grip on him. “Fine, jus’ go to work.” You’d mutter, sleepy face creased into a bothered expression. Nanami got up from the bed, but not before wrapping the blanket around you and giving your temple a kiss.

nanami kento who would deal with all your troubles and tribulations. Whenever you were on your period, he was like your knight in shining armor (or in a blue collar button-up) the entire week, he’d make your favorite meals when he arrived home by 3:30. Namani would wrap you in as many blankets as you wanted, picking you up and gently placing you on the couch. If you wanted him to stay, he’d stay right by your side, rubbing your back and peppering your face with kisses until you fell asleep. other times you wanted to be left alone and if you did, he would move to a separate room in the cozy house you guys shared, doing laundry, cleaning or whatever domestic chores that would fill your day. After about an hour, you’d always feel lonely and cried from him to come hold you, which he would come running quickly to your aid. (Also to avoid finishing washing the dishes)

nanami kento who made it his life goal to be able to please and provide for you his wife. He convinced you to quit your job. “I rather have you making dinner for just me then a bunch of wealthy assholes.” Kento would comment. You liked being his little housewife who didn’t have much to do. You were both relatively neat people, so they’re wasn’t much cleaning to do. Which you did love to do was cook. Experimenting with recipes you found on Pinterest and surprising your husband when he got home. “Look what i made for dinner, creamy garlic pasta! I found the recipe on Pinterest and it thought you’d like it” You took him by his large forearm and lead him to the kitchen where you had two plates full of the pasta as well as a lit candle and twin drinks. To you, this was just a cozy dinner. For him it was the best way to be welcomed home after a stressful day of work. The amount of thought and time put into the meal was overwhelming to him and he almost shed a tear. When he didn’t say anything, you frowned and thought he didn’t like it. “Ken, is something wrong?” Your voice was shaky and your eyes glassy. Nanami snapped out of his head and took you into an embrace. “No, no. Nothings wrong love, just a little emotional.” You laughed, thinking it was funny how he got emotional over food, but you found it cute. “Let’s eat then now, okay dear?” He’d suggest, blushing at your giggles while pulling out the chair for you to sit in. Of course, in return for any errands or houseworks, Nanami would reward you in anything else. It was only fair, he thought. New clothes? He’d take you to the expensive outlet malls he knew you loved. A new hobby that you wanted to start? He’d pay for anything you’d need plus support you through it (even if you gave up after a month) he’d never bring up your failed ventures either, knowing that it brought you joy in the few moments and he lived for that. Whenever the daily life bored you, Nanami would take you out an adventures. Sometimes it was something as simple as visiting the local farmers market. Others were first class trips around the world. (Malaysia being his personal favorite.) Sometimes, people would make comments on how “he’s spoiling you too much” or “she’ll get bored of you eventually and move to the richer guy,” but Nanami brushed those words carelessly. “I’m not spoiling her,” he’d reply coolly . “I’m reimbursing her for all the work and time she puts into me. My wife does nice things for me, and I do nice things for her.”

namani kento who could please his wife in other ways as well. If there was one thing namani did efficiently was fcking you. You’d both waited until marriage and boy, was it worth it. Namami had the gift of duality when it came to pleasing you. From his mouth, he murmured praises and loving words into your ears. From his body, unrelenting and hungry thrusts assaults on your virgin pussy. Both such drastic differences from his stoicism.“Doing so good for me love, taking me so well.” He’d compliment you causally, as if he wasn’t pumping 8 inches into you. “N-nanami, t’s too much, slow down p-please..” you’d beg, salty tears streaming down your face unto your neck, where’d he’d kiss them away. Namanin never knew how much prettier you could be, especially all sweaty and teary-eyed, but that’s just more of an excuse to do this more often. He caressed your cheek, smiling faintly at your fcked-out expression. You were doing so good for him, especially for your first time, you were just having a little hiccups. “You can take it, cmon just hold out a little longer for me, please? I promise you’ll feel so, so good.” And he kept his promise. Not long after you felt a string being cut in your stomach, causing your voice to go up in octaves and your eyes to screw themselves shut. Your pussy was glistening, covering in your juices and his as well. He didn’t pull out of you yet, and you didn’t want him too. You wanted to savor the feeling of being completely full, of being connected in the deepest way possible with your other half. After what seemed like hours of and bodies melding together. Namani wiped away a single remaining tear and kiss you on your flushed lips.“See, told you it’d be worth it, you did so well. I love you so much y/n.”

“I l-love you too kento.”

END

[riaki]

after party | satoru gojo x reader

gojo wanted to help you prepare a friendsgiving dinner, but he's a little tired n a lot tipsy.

cw: non curse au, everyones alive, shoko typical smoking, drinking, you’re married to gojo wc: 3.3k

this was supposed to be short but it just spiraled n i kind of hate it b i technically posted on the 23rd so it counts !! not proofread!

business dinners with satoru are exhausting, to say the least—you start the day early to the scent of coffee through a filter and a fresh breeze through your open window, sending your husband off to work with a hug and a kiss—maybe a promise of more if he pulls the 'five more minutes!' on you.

this one is special, though; old friends from freely youthful highschool days gathered around your dinner table on the mats of your living room floor catching up over cans of beer cold with condensation, the sound of can tabs popping and the fizzling of bubbly spirits over tables of warm food in tin containers.

geto, the tall man with dark hair and gauges, talks about how his two daughters are adjusting to city life, occasionally interrupted by cheerful brightness never dampened by adult years from haibara, an apprenticing entrepeneur under nanami who's got a thing for girls with big appetites. shoko and utahime are having a drinking contest, and mei mei's too occupied with her phone; checking stocks as her tacky nails click against the glass screen.

satoru can't cook. there's a reason why he always buys takeout when you're too busy to provide or you've already gone to sleep— he should be the picture perfect husband, because you deserve that and everything more. his only (self-perceived) flaws are his lack of alcohol tolerance and his inability to master the frying pan.

you always tell him he doesn't have to be a michelin chef— but with the way he's constantly sneaking a chocolate graham cracker from your muji snack bag or snagging the sour gummy between your teeth from your lips, he feels like he should compensate. so on this special november evening, when the hum of the city life outside your balcony gets drowned out by the cheerful mirth of a warm dinner table, he had decided to help you.

the warm kitchen had become a foodstained disaster— but with tearful round eyes and a hand tugging on your shirt, you'd resigned to helping him conquer the task of simple packaged noodles and soft-boiled eggs. he'd cut his finger— even the most capable teacher found his shortcomings against a blunt kitchen knife. needless to say you'd peppered it with kisses before wrapping a rainbow hello kitty bandaid around it.

and that brings you to the present: the result of your extensively hard work; a few soggy noodles collected at the bottom of porcelain bowls painted red on the insides in a lukewarm puddle of soup, full stomachs and a loose and welcoming atmosphere. you wouldn't trade it for the world.

you're fishing a pickled radish slice out of your bowl when satoru leans over, removing the arm that was snaked around your shoulder to drape himself on your lap, lying down on the floor with his knees propped up and his soft cloud-white hair sprawled over your thighs. geto makes a distasteful face when satoru's black socks brush against his leg. across the table, shoko knocks shoulders with utahime as she lights a cigarette; the latter's face flushes as smoke drifts past her lightly flushed face into the open window city night air overhead.

"hey, you. what's up?" you asked softly, chuckling to yourself as you set your chopsticks atop the rim of your bowl, leaning back on your arms to look down at him. he adjusts himself a little, wiggling on your lap as you caught a whiff of his beer breath and scrunch your nose.

"hiii, baby," he drawls, giggling a little to himself. his smooth, usually playful voice took on that deep tone he used whenever he was being serious, and it sent an involuntary shiver down your spine, so you hugged him closer and ran a hand through his soft white hair, brushing your fingers against the black cloth of his blindfold. "what'cha doing?"

"i was eating. you put too much pepper in the broth, 'toru." you smiled softly, tracing the line of his jaw slowly with one finger in the way you knew he liked so much; it was obvious from the way he sighed contentedly and tilted his head into your palm. whether it be from that unfathomably sweet smile or the tender way you held his face in your delicate hands, that was up to him to ponder. next to you, haibara makes a joke— something about mei mei's stocks, and she quips a snarky retort that has him laughing raucously while nanami makes a face.

"i tried!" he protests, almost a whine as he sighs; a hand sneaks up to lift the edge of his blindfold up so his eyes meet yours, and you're left breathless. it catches you off guard every time— those endless pools of swirling blue that stare straight through you, sifting through your thoughts like a scholar annotating an open book, all heart-shaped sticky notes and bright highlighters when it came to thinking about him.

"not hard enough, clearly. but it's okay; we'll do better next time."

he just frowns again at that, sticking out his lower lip in a little pout that makes your heart squeeze. your stomach is full with noodles and broth; you don't think you could stomach another bite if you tried, and you're not one to drink especially if everyone else is. so, you let yourself indulge a little— snake a hand on the back of satoru's neck and tilt him up until he's sitting halfway up and you can easily meet his lips in a kiss.

he reciprocates immediately, hungry like he was waiting for you; you notice that he hasn't eaten much of his food yet, so maybe he was. or maybe he knows how bad it is. either way, his tongue darts out from his parted lips to flick against your own for a moment, before he sinks his teeth into your bottom lip and draws out a teasing whine that you have to stifle because "we have company, 'toru," you have to breath as a reminder. he just laughs breathily against your lips, tasting like bitter beer and buttery vanilla as he shifts to practically sit on top of you, hands on your shoulders as his thumbs brush over your collarbone where the edge of your shirt fails to cover tantalizing skin; he's taller and eventually ends up bringing the both of you toppling down onto the mats.

your back hits the floor and a little gasp leaves your winded lungs— but satoru eagerly catches it with his lips and swallows it, like he's intent on getting drunken off his ass from you (as if he wasn't already tipsy) when he smashes his swollen lips to yours again. your hair is splayed out against the tatami mats like you're trapped in some marine watercolor painting, and for a split second satoru thinks if mermaids were real you'd be the most angelic he'd ever seen as his calloused fingers curl into the strands.

you're about to hook a leg around his waist when a shout catches your ear and you part lips with a gasp, sucking in greedy breaths as satoru promptly sits on your stomach. you let out a stuffed oomph from his weight, and watch as he slides his blindfold back on to look over at the rest of the table who're staring at the two of you like they're watching some forbidden steamy movie scene that's meant to be shielded from children's eyes.

“don’t kiss him while he’s drunk. it’s like rewarding a brat for bad behavior,” shoko says. you sit up with much effort, straining under satoru’s weight as you reach up to grab his shoulders. you miss, but he takes your hands and pulls you up, wrapping his arms around you to keep you from falling back down as you rest your head on his shoulder. utahime has her arms lazily draped over shoko; you assume she’s drunk from that, but if you were to inspect her for long enough you’d notice her can of beer was almost completely full.

“oh, i guess you’re right.” you remarked, frowning a little and biting the inside of your cheek as you pull away from satoru and glance at him. all of the sudden he looks like he’s ready to keel over; the shadows beneath his eyes are reinforced by the alcohol in his system and it looks like he’ll need to tape his eyes open lest he passes out right on top of you. you want to avoid that, so you gently push him off, sighing to yourself.

“don’t listen to her, sweetheart. you can kiss me all you want,” he smirks, a flash of pearly white teeth that would’ve been on your neck a moment ago if not for the interruption. you just shake your head with a breathless laugh, giving him a quick flick to the forehead. before you can pull away, though— he catches your hand, bringing your wrist to his glossy pink lips and giving your pulse a quick peck. “no, she has a point.” you hummed. overhead, the light flickers a little; a moth that had flown in through the window danced about the bulb. the faint sound of car horns filters through the window along with the breeze, recycled laughter and lively chatter from bars a few stories down carried in the cool wind.

you mill about for another twenty minutes or so, content to just listen in as old friends shared anecdotes and funny stories from separate paths of life; you soon learned that nanami was planning on moving to malaysia, and shoko was due to renew her medical license this year. the beer cans built up, mixed in with crumpled napkins that had penned doodles on the rough surface and paper chopstick wrappers. somewhere along the line, satoru had fallen asleep— you had to push his unfinished ramen bowl out of the way before he knocked his head against the wooden table and spilt his meal. you frowned a little at the sight of it— you knew he'd complain about his soaked noodles and limp seaweed sheets later on. you found yourself slinging one of your jackets over his shoulders, fingers lingering over his neck, where the scratchy hair of his undercut met soft warm skin.

soon enough, dishes are piling up in the sink and calling your name; the kids see themselves home via train station, spouting something about a late night pit stop in sendai for the mochi that 'our teacher likes so much'. you consider asking them to bring some back for satoru, but you decide you'll enjoy a laugh when he tells you about how he went to school the next morning to find out for himself, and the stab of hurt that will pierce his full heart in two when he hears the news. even then, you have to shush them as they show themselves out; you can tell from the way satoru's eyebrows knit together beneath his blindfold and the pinch of his jaw that he doesn't appreciate the noise, no matter how blacked out.

the conversation dies down a little, and soon enough, everyone takes their leave one by one. it's only when you settle back down after cleaning up the bowls and putting away the cups that satoru stirs, waking up with a mumble and a huff. his hair is a disheveled mess, and there are sleep lines on his face, but he's still handsome as ever.

"baby?" his voice is hoarse with sleep and dehydration. there's a dull ache between his eyes, feeling like he'd just ran a circle around the world. you answer from the kitchen, calling his name. it's late; past midnight now. the window's still open and satoru's can of beer is still on the table, almost completely empty.

"how long did i sleep? shit, did everyone go home? 'm sorry," he groans, standing up and stretching his arms out. his shirt rides up on his shoulders, exposing the arch of his hip just above the edge of his pants. "don't worry, 'toru." you hummed, washing your hands in the sink as you look over at him. he just nods, grabbing the can and crumpling it in his hands before tossing it in the trash.

"you okay? got a headache?" you asked as he walked over to you, careful not to hit his head on the arch that connected the living room to the kitchen. when you'd first moved in with him, you had to pin a strip of bright yellow caution tape to remind him to duck his head. you smiled as you reminisced over late nights, tucked in his arms as he mused about demolishing the wall there just so he could be rid of the bruise on his temple. then again, as long as you were waiting for him to kiss it better at the end of his nine to five, he didn't mind.

he nods, and watches as an easy smile stretches across your lips; they look infuriatingly kissable under the warm glow of the hazy kitchen light, shining off the porcelain cups in the sink. he leans against the kitchen counter, cold marble feeling through the thin fabric of his shirt as you take his leftovers from the fridge and heat them up in the microwave, standing before the black glass as you watch the little plate spin inside.

there's something about moments like these; so sweet and easy with you after everyone's taken the last train home and all that's left are empty beer cans and extra bowls in the dishwasher for two people with matching rings on their fingers to take care of.

he walks up to you, wrapping his arms around your waist and resting his head on your chin. he smiles when he feels your hand cup his cheek, and he turns his head instinctively to meet your lips in a slow, sweet kiss; a muscle memory tango between familiar lovers. when he pulls away to catch his breath, tongue swiping across his bottom lip, you're already there with your fingers, pulling his blindfold down to rest around his neck and gently rubbing the spot beside his eyes, alleviating the tension behind them. it's unspoken moments like these that he loves the most in your relationship. making a mess in your kitchen is a close second.

it's a slow, easy night after a special get-together when the microwave beeps and you take his noodles out, bringing them to the table as you sit down next to him and rest your head on his shoulder, letting him tuck you into his side as he gets a bit of breaded tonkotsu crumbs on his cheek and insists you wipe them off for him like he's some oversized baby. you wash some cherries in a green plastic bowl, competing to see who can spit the pits into the trashcan without missing. in the end, he lost the game of rock paper scissor and was resigned to pick up the missed pits on the floor.

he's still wearing your jacket like a cape and even though it's far too small for him, he insists on keeping it with him when you go out onto your balcony to finish the last of a bottle of sake together, listening to the melody of the wind in the trees that line the sidewalk and the permeating hustle and bustle of the city, even when it's so late at night it could be considered early morning.

he swipes the cold bottle from your hands, finishing the last drops from the matte glass before letting it dangle between your fingers. and you're expecting it when he catches your arm to pull you into another kiss; he tastes like peaches and wine and a little bit of soup broth. it's slow, and easy, because being with him has always felt as natural as breathing, and being with you has made it easier for him to breathe, like the iron weight on his lungs melts away in the face of your unconditional warmth and care. the cool wind blows your hair in front of your face, and he laughs that charming boyish giggle as he tucks it behind your ears and scoops you up in his arms.

"i don't like sharing you with a sake bottle," you said, pointedly looking at the glass in his hand. he just grins, looking down at you for a moment. he can almost see it again; you, in that gorgeous white wedding cloth. he was carrying you bridal style in the same way now, when you'd decided to grow old together and host special business dinners as a couple in your shared apartment.

"don't worry, love. you're sweeter than any spritz," he laughs, stepping inside again and closing the door behind him.

it's routine, and it's easy, getting ready for bed with him, laughing when he pushes his hair back with a headband, looking like a pretty little princess. you suggest him getting a mullet, and he shushes you by shoving your toothbrush on your tongue, getting a mouthful of mint. the warm water rushes over your fingers before you dry yourself off, wiping your face and putting the towel away only to be met with the equal warmth of his lips on your forehead, peppering you with kisses.

you slip into the covers, still pleasantly cold as you watch satoru sit up and take his shirt off. he lets you peel the rainbow bandaid on his finger off, tossing it in the trash before pulling you into his arms, right where you belong the closest to his heart. "don't cut yourself like that again, okay?"

"it was an accident, baby." he chuckles, and you just roll your eyes. he reaches over to ruffle your hair affectionately and makes a joke about having you suck his blood like a vampire, tooting about how sweet it would be. "besides, i don't need to be careful if you're there to patch me up, pretty. shoko has nothing on you!"

he plays with your hair as you catch him up to the conversations he'd slept away; mei mei had left early when you'd given him your jacket to envelope him in your scent, muttering something about cheap perfume and worthless soggy noodles. he likes to play with your jewelry, you notice— fiddles with the ring on your finger, cupping your hands in his palm as he tucks his face into the back of your neck.

at one point, he asks you to do his hair, so you oblige, rolling him over onto his stomach and clambering on top of his waist. you braid his white strands into cute little pigtails best as you could manage as he tells you about his dream; something about harassing nanami in malaysia and a sunset kiss under crystal clear beach water. it sounds nice, and when you're done with his hair you find it easier to just massage his shoulders and listen to the smooth droning of his voice.

soon enough, you're both warmer than the lukewarm buzz of beer in your veins, and he doesn't remember if he fell asleep first or not, but the gentle melody of your voice haunts him in his dazed sleep as he curls around you.

business dinners really are exhausting— he's left wondering how you pull it off the morning after when he's hungover and the cut on his finger is infected— clearly, the hello kitty bandaid wasn't enough to cut it. the only reasoning that he explains to you as you take your morning shower together, fingers running through your hair, is that you didn't kiss it enough. maybe that's why his soup had too much pepper and he didn't know how to cut the cucumbers.

he's still an amateur, so he'll leave the cooking to you. maybe next time he'll pretend the takeout he grabbed on his way home from school was handmade, though he doubts his friends will ever believe him, or his students after he demands they buy him kikufuku as compensation for leaving him out the night before.

ignore the ep that came out today! everyone’s alive and well. trust my (riaki) stuff. don’t repost and/or plagiarize !

[dlscenarios]

How I Long For Our Trysts

Anthony Bridgerton x f!Reader SMUT

I finished reading The Viscount Who Loved Me & i'm already missing this fictional man like he's my husband that went off to war.

Also ofc the title is a Taylor Swift reference. What else is new?

Cw: AFAB Reader + a few brief mentions of Reader being a lady, Bridgerton-typical society talk, Reader & Anthony are pretty handsy, No foreplay, Unprotected sex + Creampie

You were going to be the death of him.

Anthony Bridgerton always knew he was going to die young, but he'd always thought it would be a similar death to his father's — sudden and perhaps by the stinger of a measly bee — yet the agonizing wait for you to appear in the doorway of his study might do him in first.

His mother had invited what felt like hundreds of singles in the ton for another one of her house parties at Aubrey Hall. The woman was relentless in her task of marrying off her children, although she seemed to focus more on Anthony than his brothers. To the viscount's dismay (he was ashamed to admit his simultaneous delight), you were one of the invited guests. Anthony's mother had no idea that you and her eldest son had already become well acquainted with each other, having met earlier in the season.

You had a distaste for society and its strict rules, something that both intrigued and infuriated Anthony. You conducted yourself in a way that haunted his very being. Had you been a smidge less cynical, you would fit Anthony's idea of a perfect viscountess exactly.

Since your first meeting, the viscount would see you everywhere. At the shops, the park, every ball, there was even a time Anthony could have sworn you were in his bed beside him only to find out it was just an all-too-real dream. In hopes of getting you out of his head, he began pursuing you. Not in hopes of marriage, Anthony had carefully planned out every minute you shared together to avoid such a thing, but in hopes of turning his dream into a reality. And it worked. It worked far better than Anthony thought it would. Every moment he spent getting lost in your body felt better than it had with any of the women he had slept with before. He craved you more than he had ever craved anything in his entire life. While your moments together were fleeting, he made every minute count and seared the memory into his brain. 

Now that you were under the same roof as him, he could barely hold himself back. His siblings had coerced you to join their game of Pall Mall earlier in the evening and each time your ball and his sat near each other, it took every ounce of Anthony's strength not to pull you to the side and kiss you senseless. After the game, he stepped closer to your side, inconspicuously whispering into your ear to meet him in his study at midnight. If everyone else in the house was asleep, he could have you all to himself for hours. As long as the two of you ended up in your respective bedchambers by dawn, no one would be any wiser.

While waiting for the clock to strike twelve, Anthony tried to keep himself busy by going over a few papers, but eventually the dry scratching of his quill and the flickering light of the candle beside him began to make his head spin. Tossing the pen to the side and rubbing his face with his hands, the door finally creaked open. Leaning back in his chair, a smirk grew on Anthony's face at the sight of you shutting the door behind you.

"Took you long enough." he quipped, gazing at you with tired eyes. You returned his smile and approached the desk.

"It is better to be safe rather than sorry, my lord. I did not want to risk someone catching me outside of my chambers like this~" Your hand began to fiddle with the hastily-tied knot on your robe. With a light tug, the robe was untied and fluttered open to reveal that you donned only a chemise under it.

Anthony sucked in a breath, dark eyes trailing over your figure. Yes, he had seen you in less before, but you looked too damned stunning in everything you wore, no matter how many layers it consisted of. Even at the social events both of your families "coincidentally" attended, he could not tear his eyes away from you.

You stepped closer to his side, his hand wasting no time in settling on your hip. He was looking at you like how a puppy eyed its beloved owner. You kept that analogy to yourself, knowing full well that he would rid it the moment he became aware of it, but it was perhaps the most beautiful look he had ever worn. Your opposing hand came up to graze his cheek before your fingertips peaked into his hair. Anthony's eyes fluttered shut, leaning into your hand and turning to press a soft kiss to your palm.

"Always so eager." you said, smiling down at your lover. You caught the faintest, briefest smile on his lips before he kissed your palm once more with a deep hum.

"You cannot blame me." Anthony's voice was low and filled with passion as he replied, "Not when I have the prettiest lover in all of Great Britain," he paused to squeeze your hip, his fingers digging into the fabric of your chemise, "Right at my fingertips."

"Aw..." you teased, leaning down to meet his lips. Anthony lets out a low moan into the kiss as his hand slides from your hip to around your waist, guiding you down to straddle him in his chair. Your warmth was the comforting sort, the image of you in his lap serving as a reminder that Anthony had you. You were his, sitting so prettily above him, and deep down, while it hurt his pride to admit such, Anthony knew he was yours.

In the glow of the fireplace, the two of you held each other close, hands exploring previously conquered patches of skin. You had tugged his vest open as one of his hands slid under your chemise to grab your ass. His lips had left yours to trail hot kisses along your neck. Your breathy pants fanned against his ear while he suckled your clavicle, wishing so desperately that he could leave a mark. Anthony knew he couldn't. You were out in society, someone the viscount had sworn to never rope into his rakish encounters. The last thing he wanted to do was ruin your reputation and find himself at the receiving end of your relative's pistol.

Anthony let out a low growl, pushing away the niggling reminder that he had compromised you. What a hypocrite he was. Had one of his sisters been in your position, he would have ripped their lover to shreds, but something about you felt different. A warm and welcoming feeling that Anthony had never experienced before. A feeling that was suffocating him as he lifted his head to peck your jaw before guiding you into another kiss.

You yanked at his shirt, ripping the top buttons out of their holes. Anthony groaned as your hand trailed down his clothed chest, grazing over his stomach and inching closer to his waistband. His lips leave yours, pressing a feather-light kiss to your cheek before his own hand slips down to meet yours, expertly unbuttoning his trousers.

Anthony Bridgerton was never a patient man, something you had known since your first night together. He was never selfish — in fact, he was quite a generous lover, always checking to make sure he wasn't moving too fast — he merely found it difficult to hold back at times. You were a drug. Perhaps the only thing that could make him completely drunk, aside from the occasional brandy. As he freed himself from the confines of his pants, he gazed up, his dark eyes shining with a lustful glint as they met yours.

You shifted above him and pulled up the skirt of your chemise enough for him to line up with your entrance. His free hand rested on your hip before slowly guiding you down to take him in. With a groan, he squeezed your ass as you situate yourself in his lap. His hands slid up to your hips, urging them to roll toward his.

Anthony held you close, enough for him to lean forward and mouth at your clothed chest. You always felt like heaven, so hot and tight. You made him feel alive. Anthony groaned against your chest as his fingers dug into your skin, mirroring the new grip you had on his shoulders. Your soft moans against his ear spurred him to help quicken your grinding, guiding you along the length of his cock.

Before you had met the viscount, you had known of his rakish ways from Whistledown's column. The woman had never been wrong so you had no reason to disbelieve her reports on Anthony's past conquests. Opera singers, actresses, several women in London's brothels, he had allegedly bed them all. He was the biggest rake in all of Britain, yet as he held you tight and fucked into you as if he loved you, you couldn't bring yourself to regret meeting him. It could have been your inexperience in these sorts of encounters, but you could have sworn the Anthony Bridgerton you saw during these nights was a better man than the one Whistledown knew. He was always so attentive and skilled and beautiful and...

You contracted around him, ripping a gruff moan from your lover's lips, his gaze focused on your connection as he controlled the movement of your hips. His short nails bit through the thin cotton of your chemise, his own hips thrusting up to meet yours.

"Fuck..." Anthony groaned almost too quiet for you to hear. He always found it hard to last longer than you, yet another difference between you and his past lovers. He was already close and, judging by the way your moans took on a higher pitch, you were not far behind. One of his hands left your hip to slip under the bunched front of your dress, thumbing your clit in the exact way he knew you liked.

You squeaked out a moan, your grip on the back of his shirt hardening. "Anthony...Oh god, Anthony..." you repeated his name like a prayer.

Suddenly, your orgasm hit, stilling your hips and moaning into his shoulder. Like he always did, Anthony coaxed you through your release, continuing his ministrations and pressing soft kisses to the side of your head. Once your moans subsided, the hand on your clit left to rest on your back. You kept your face buried in his shoulder as he panted into your ear, his own sounds growing closer together as he chased his release.

You lifted your head enough for Anthony to steal your lips again. With another groan, he thrusted up into you one last time before his come began to fill you. He held you tightly against him as he deepened the kiss.

You moaned and weaved your hand into his hair. You didn't want the kiss to end. The moment it did meant your time with Anthony was coming to an end. You would have to return to your bedchamber alone, knowing the man you had accidentally started falling for was under the same roof.

Meanwhile, Anthony had no plans of letting you go once leaving your lips to catch his breath. He glanced to the nearby clock. It was only one in the morning, plenty of time to keep you locked in the study with him. He should be free to have you until six, when the maids would begin wrapping their wake-up calls on the residents’ doors. After only a few gulps of air, Anthony's lips were back on yours, keen on having you in every position he's dreamed you in.

Anthony Bridgerton never planned on catching feelings. Hell, his entire plan for the season was to find a wife he wouldn't fall for, yet as he admired you in the euphoric state he had put you in, he was starting to think his plan had failed.

[mamirhodessxox]

Request for Cody 💜

Cody is on the road a lot and a workaholic, to the point he neglects his wife in a way. He misses date nights, family dinners and a birthday party to the point reader files for divorce. Cody then tries to get his family back. ( 3 year old son Silas , 9 month old daughter Brielle )

Before You Leave Me

Cody Rhodes x Fem!Reader

Desc: Cody has seemed to be more focused in his work life than his own personal home life which leaves Y/N in a conflicted decision that he refuses to accept.

Contents: Angst, Fluff, Mentions of divorce, light false accusations of cheating , use of foul language, arguing, Happy endings :)

🏷️ list: @alyyaanna @ginswife @coolpastelartshoe @greatkoalawizard @cokolin044 @kotoriarlert @alicerosejensen @bunnybot55 @agent-dessis-posts-deactivated2 @adollonyourshelf @mini-rhodes @southerngirl41 @harmshake @femdisa @kabloswrld @claymoresofinfamy23 @jeysbvck

{~I'm very serious with you guys interacting with my writing!!!! it would make me so happy & excited, the more comments & reposts the more inspiration i have to write :) likes and comments are strongly appreciated so please COMMENT COMMENT COMMENT COMMEENNTTT the more comments the more content <3!!!~}

Being married to Cody was not easy, especially if you were head over heels for the man, You thought that if he settled down, had children, etc, he would be less of a workaholic but boy were you wrong. He was on the road 24/7 You & the kids barely got to see him, You both were parents of 2, a 3 year old son named Silas & your new 9 month old daughter Brielle, He missed out on a lot within MONTHS.

Cody was a man who brought food on the table, he was man of the house but because of his absence it was leaving your song with many questions such as “Why didn’t daddy come to my birthday party?” Or “Why wasn’t daddy here for Christmas?” These were questions you had no idea how to answer to the poor kid other than “Daddy was busy” which was a bullshit answer, He should never be too busy to miss out on his sons 2nd birthday but once the 3rd birthday hit you were sick of it and his false promises. This made you order divorce papers before the birthday as a just incase moment if he didn’t show up to his sons party within a few weeks.

2 weeks prior to Silas’ 3rd birthday you two had argued over work and by the end of that shit show he promised with his entire soul he would be there for his sons 3rd birthday, but ultimately he couldn’t make it because of his schedule. This was becoming a regular habit almost every year, Cody missed out on your guys’ dates, holidays, birthday’s & anniversary..but this was the final straw.

It was the day of your son’s birthday and you waited in the backyard watching your toddler run around with his friends while other parents attempted asking you on where your husband was. You held Brielle in your arms checking your phone every few hours but got no updates from Cody.

And then night time struck. You set Brielle in her crib and pranced into your son’s room to tuck him in bed “Mommy?” You heard the 3 year old chirp out as he sat criss crossed in his bed with a moping expression “Yes sweetheart?” Silas frowned when you got to his level “Where’s daddy? He promised.” Your heart broke in half as your son asked where his father’s presence was, you shrugged and frowned before kissing the top of his head “Daddy got caught up in work sweetheart, I’m sorry,” he huffed and turned to his side once you finished tucking him in you had snuck into the bedroom that used to be shared with you & cody, you kneeled down to the height of your bedside table taking out the papers you had waiting for this very moment & began signing away what you possibly could on your side of the divorce & proceeded to walk downstairs with them and set them down on the kitchen counter next to the pen you had used consenting to the divorce.

around 2:30 in the morning you heard the door open & close in a quiet manner followed by a heavy sigh & luggage being set onto the ground which made you sit up from the couch, Cody looked over towards your direction and smiled lightly before taking notice at the irritated look on your face “You missed his party.” He heard you speak up and stop in his tracks before you stood up “Sweetheart there was problems with the bu-“ “You said that for our anniversary, his 2nd birthday, Christmas, Halloween, the excuse is getting outdated Cody.” He frowned and your words knowing you were right, “Well I’m here no-“ you shook your head while walking past your husband and booking it to the kitchen “I’m tired of this Cody. I love you & you know I do hut it kills me when our son is walking around with a hurt heart whenever he sees another child with a present father, he asks me almost 12 times a day where his daddy is or why didn’t you come to his birthday party. Hell he even requested to have a cake dedicated to yo-“ “Y/N I work like hell to put food on the table and keep a roof under your head!” You widened your eyes and glared “Quite honestly Cody I’d rather fucking starve to death if it meant my son & daughter’s father was present in their life! I’m sick of having all of the neighborhood moms gossiping about our marriage & I’m sick of you not being here for your kids & wife!.”

Cody frowned and tried approaching you but looked down at the counters for a split second and saw papers “What the hell is this?” You shrugged before rummaging through the fridge before pulling out a bottle of wine & pouring the red liquid into a glass “Divorce papers Cody. This marriage clearly isn’t working and I’d rather put it to an end now before it gets worse. You’re 4 steps away from having an affair with another woman with how far away you’ve been from your family so I’d rather prevent you betraying our marriage. I’m mainly doing it for the kid-“ “Y/N I would never cheat on you what the hell are you talking about?!”

You frowned setting down the glass & leaned against the counter behind you with crossed arms “You were nearly late when I gave birth to Brielle, You didn’t show up last Christmas or the Christmas before, You didn’t show up to your sons 3rd and 2nd birthday all for a fucking job that involves you getting punched everyday for a check. You forgot about our anniversary, I didn’t want to do this Cody but this marriage isn’t working, If I stayed any longer nothing would change, I have tried like hell to get you to be here for our family but your too focused on a paycheck then us.” You didn’t notice a tear roll down your face until it dropped onto your arm. Cody frowned & approached your carefully and shook his head “I’m not accepting those damn papers sweetheart, You know I won’t, I’m not leaving you or this fam-“ “You already have, You missed out on Brielle crawling for the first time, You missed out on your son joining the little leagues soccer team and getting a score, You even missed out on be finding out I was pregnant with Brielle Cody. How am I supposed to believe you when you haven’t been here to prove me anything?”

He shook his head and stepped closer towards you and tangled his fingers within your hair and wiped off your face with his free hand “Let me make it right sweetness, let me prove you wrong, I’ll do anything in my power to prevent this from happening, I’ll take time off, I’ll quit anything you want just say the word but goddamnit your not leaving me.” He crouched onto his knees in front of you and kissed your legs gently and gripped at the summer dress he gifted you that was hugging your body in the right ways, You’d never seen Cody beg on his knees before, especially for you to stay with him “Cody I want nothing from you, I don’t want child support from thi-“ “Y/N your not fucking divorcing me, I won’t allow it to happen & if you think for a millisecond in that beautiful goddamn brain of yours that I will then you are extremely mistaken.”

Your fingers ran through his hair as he stared up at you before kissing your stomach down your thigh to your leg before holding your hand and kissing the ring he placed on your dainty finger when you both were wedded. “Cody I can’t keep doing this anymore, You keep making false promises that I know I can no longer believe.” He frowned and gripped at your hips slightly while he shook his head non stop “Y/N I will never ever miss out on another holiday, anniversary, or birthday, it breaks me knowing you expect me to betray our marriage I will do anything in my power to prevent you from leaving me even if it means I quit my job baby.”

You frowned and thought about his words before hesitantly nodding your head which made his stand on his feet and holding your face in the palms of his hands “I promise I will never miss another important day ever again angel.” He mumbled before pulling her into a gentle kiss “I love you..” You muttered against his mouth before pulling away “I-I’m really sorry for pulling the whole divorce thing..” he shook his head and pulled you into a large hug “Don’t apologize sweetheart, I understand your frustrations & more than that but you also know by now that You’re not leaving me that easily” you smiled sadly against his shoulder and pull away while he gently grabbed ahold of your hand and placed a kiss on your wedding ring “Why don’t you go and get some rest alright? I’ll take control of everything tomorrow & I’ll empty out my schedule, go get some sleep alright?”

You held onto his hand and nodded hesitantly before pull away making your way upstairs to the bedroom you two would share, Cody stood in the kitchen & sighed running his hand down his jaw & glared over at the divorce papers before snatching them off of the counter & ripping them to shreds before dumping the pieces of paper in the trash before he went upstairs moments later.

The next morning you woke up to his side of the bed quite cold and empty which made you frown “Cody?” You tried calling out but you soon heard the giggles of Silas souring throughout downstairs which immediately pulled you into relief before climbing out of bed & making your way downstairs & seeing Cody serving a birthday breakfast to Silas which brought a warm smile on your face before approaching him “Morning sweetheart.” He hummed out before pushing a mug filled with coffee towards you which you took into your hands “Morning love” you walked past Silas who was eating the pancakes Cody made him & pressed a kiss into his head before doing the same with Brielle who was in a high chair.

You sat on the couch and looked over towards the kitchen once more & smiled to yourself as Cody kept to his word on being more present for you & the kids, You were immediately happy with the fact he fought for you to not go through with the divorce & ultimately proved his promises too you.

mamirhodessxox’s Masterlist

[gingiesworld]

I'll Never Leave You

Requested

Wanda Maximoff x GN! Reader

Warnings: Fluff. Angst.

18+ MINORS DNI

Wanda remembers getting the phone call like it was yesterday. Although Vision had passed away almost seven years ago and she was now engaged. Moving forward with her life, she was happy. Although her past with her dead spouse haunted her.

Although Y/N was patient during the days that she still grieved the loss of her husband. They were slowly digging themselves deeper into a rut. Although Wanda and the twins had moved in with Y/N, they felt like an intruder in their own home.

Especially when they had tried to help Tommy when he got stuck with his Calculus homework.

"You're not my dad!" He yelled at them as their eyes widened. "You never will be and I hate you. I wish he was here and you died."

Y/N was shocked to say the least, instead of speaking with Tommy, they decided to go to their garage. They made themselves a make shift office their for their projects. Even sending an email to their boss to see if they were needed on an upcoming project soon. Knowing it would take more time away from home, if they can even call it that.

"Where are the twins?" Nat questioned as the two sat down for coffee.

"With Vis." She stated until she realised her mistake. "Y/N. They're with Y/N."

"Wanda, do you love them?" Nat questioned as Wanda just nodded.

"Of course I do." She stated. "I just still miss Vis sometimes and it hurts because the twins have had to grow up without their father too."

"I just, maybe this is unfair on Y/N." She reasoned as Wanda chuckled dryly.

"What do you mean?" She questioned her friend.

"I mean, Y/N is very understanding of the pain you've been through since losing Vision, but you're living in the past Wanda and it's not fair on them." Nat told her friend sternly.

"I'm not living in the past Natasha. Y/N and I are getting married." Wanda stated as Nat raised her brow.

"When?" She queried as Wanda came up empty. Since the moment she said yes, she hadn't even bothered to plan the wedding. "See? This isn't fair on them. I've seen how the twins treat them Wanda. They treat Y/N like dirt and I can see the toll it is taking on them."

"They would tell me." Wanda stated as Nat just laughed.

"No they wouldn't. They love you too much to upset you, but you don't love them enough." Nat told her as she looked at the time. "I have to get back to work but I will see you soon Wanda."

All Wanda could do was sit and think before she headed home. Although she loved Vision, she had a whole past with him before he was ripped away from her. But then she found Y/N when she never knew she needed someone, they were her light in the darkness. She was too afraid to let go of Vision and embrace the future she could have with Y/N.

"Where are you going?" She asked Y/N as she entered their shared room after seeing the twins on the sofa watching TV.

"I have a business trip." They told her as they packed their shirts. "I have been asked to consult on a project."

"How long for?" She questioned as Y/N shrugged.

"I am not sure. The project is only just starting and it is a pretty big one so I need to be in LA." They told her as she sighed sadly. She could see the walls they've put up to guard themselves as they spoke.

"We'll miss you." Wanda told them as they chuckled.

"I'll miss you." They kissed her softly before they headed to the bathroom for their toiletries. "But I know the twins won't bat an eyelid with me being gone." With that they bid their goodbye as Wanda remained in her spot. Wondering what they had meant by that. Looking around their shared room, smiling at a picture of the two of them last christmas at Nat's party. Pietro had had the twins so she and Y/N could have time to unwind.

It wasn't until she walked through the halls and noticed all of the photos that occupied the frames were of Vision, herself and the twins. None of Y/N. It seemed like they didn't even live there. Wanda also wanted to know what had happened to their photos so she went straight to the twins.

"Where are all of Y/N's photos?" She questioned the two 12 year olds.

"Dunno." Tommy remarked as Billy remained frozen in his spot.

"Tell me the truth because I had all of our photos packed away in albums other than a couple of the four of us together." Wanda told them as she turned off the television.

"They're not our dad!" Tommy yelled at her as Wanda's eyes widened at his outburst. "And they never will replace him."

"They don't want to replace him." Wanda told him softly. "They just want to be there for you both. Be someone that you can turn to for help. They don't intend to replace your memory of your father."

"But." Billy whispered as Tommy cried.

"I miss him." He sobbed as Wanda opened her arms for him.

"I know sweetie." She whispered as she gestured for Billy to join her. "But Y/N has tried their best to make this a home for all of us. They have tried so hard to be patient with the three of us, but it has been almost seven years since he died and I know it doesn't go away, but it does get easier."

"When is Y/N coming home?" Billy asked as Wanda shrugged.

"I don't know." She whispered as the two hugged her. "So please put their photos back in their frames."

"When can we apologise to them." Tommy questioned as Wanda gave him a smile.

"When they come home." She whispered. As the night went on, the photos were replaced as Wanda was also waiting on a call from Y/N. Wanting to know if they had gotten there safely.

Although Y/N had had the flight to LA booked, they still remained in their car in the car park. Watching as their flight soon took off as thet cried silently. They wanted so much to leave, drown themselves in work but they also loved Wanda so much, and her boys. They were the family they never really had and they are afraid to lose it.

So they sent a quick text to their boss, saying they were running late and needed to catch a later flight because of a family emergency. Then they drove as fast as they could home. Only Wanda and the boys on their mind. That was when everything happened so fast on the freeway.

It was early hours in the morning, Wanda was woken by a phone call. Her heart dropping at the deja vu.

"Hello." She answered wearily.

"Is this Wanda Maximoff?" They questioned.

"Yes." She whispered as she knew in some sense what this phone call could be.

"We have you listed as the emergency contact of Y/N Y/L/N. It appears they have been in a pile up on the freeway. They are currently in surgery right now." They informed her.

"What hospital are they in?" She asked as she started to get herself ready.

"New York Pres." They told her.

"I'll be there shortly." Wanda stated before hanging up and calling her brother. "How fast can you get here?"

"In 20 minutes." He answered tiredly. "Why?"

"Y/N has been in an accident." Wanda told him as she put her shoes on.

"Wanda." She could hear shuffling on the line.

"I'll be there as soon as I can." He told her. She sent a quick text to Nat, informing her of the situation. It didn't take long for both Pietro and Nat to arrive.

"I came as soon as I got the text." She told her as Pietro took his place on the sofa.

"Call me and let me know how they are." He told his twin as Nat ushered her out of the door.

"Are you ok?" Nat questioned as she drove.

"I don't know." She answered honestly. "That phone call brought back everything from Vis and I don't think I can go through that again."

"You won't." Nat told her sternly. "They are strong and I doubt an accident can take them down."

"I hope you're right." She whispered as she watched the buildings go by. As they parked in the hospital parking lot, the two quickly ran out of the car and to the reception. "Hi, we're here for Y/N Y/L/N, they were in a car accident."

"Ahh yes, they have just been put in their own room." The receptionist told them "They had just gotten out of surgery and the doctor will be able to tell you more. He will be here shortly."

"Ms Maximoff?" The doctor called out as Wanda nodded, stepping closer with Nat on her heels.

"Is Y/N going to be ok?" She asked him as he gave her a smile.

"They will be perfectly fine." He started to lead them to their room. "They had endured numerous superficial injuries and internal bleeding so we had to stop that. They also have a broken femur and will need intense physio once it is fully healed."

"When will they wake up?" Wanda questioned as the doctor smiled looking through the door.

"Take a look yourself." He opened the door allowing Wanda to walk inside. She gasped with tears in her eyes as her smile grew.

"You're alive." She whispered as she cupped their cheek hesitantly. "I was so scared. I thought I lost you. I can't lose you Y/N." She told them shakily as they smiled gently at her. Kissing her palm.

"I'll never leave you Wanda." They told her with certainty. "I love you so much."

"I love you too. So much." She pressed a kiss to their lips as her tears flowed freely. A weight had been relieved from her chest as she could breathe. Y/N is still here with her.

As the week went by, Pietro had been with the twins. Trying to keep them from making their own way to the hospital. That was until he got tired of it and ushered them into his car.

"Boys, what are you doing here?" Wanda questioned as the twins burst through the door.

"They wanted to see Y/N and quite frankly, I was getting sick of them." Pietro smirked as Wanda chuckled.

"We're so sorry for how we have been over the years Y/N." Billy told them as the two boys had tears in their eyes.

"Can you forgive us?" Tommy asked them as they just smiled at the twins.

"Of course." They smiled at the two. "I know I will never be your dad. I don't intend to replace him, but what I do intend to do is be there for you. The way he would want someone to be their for his family." They held Wanda's hand in their's as they continued. "I love this little family we have here, yeah all of those words hurt me. I am not going to lie there but I love your mom. I am in love with her and I know she may never love me the same as she did your dad but that's ok. I know that we love each other and we are willing to make this work. I don't want you to hide all of the pictures of your dad away. Maybe have one or two of him on the mantel and maybe make some room for new memories. The memories we will make together."

"That sounds perfect." Wanda whispered as Y/N smiled at her. The twins started to talk more with Y/N and they just listened to them. A silly smile on their face as they felt the love of their family around them.

[stories-and-chaos]

Shrike: Sick Day

[Hazbin Hotel reader insert as Alastor’s “darling life and death partner” Ace x ace relationship, both parties are moderately sex favorable. Just some fluff about how our murderous couple would take care of each other. And of course the rest of the gang has to “help.”]

[One shot, word count 2731, Cw: mild nudity?]

—————

You woke up, aching from head to toe. Despite Alastor being right next to you (the man radiated heat) and the duvet, you were chilled. A sudden coughing fit made you wish for some tea.

Crap. You were sick.

“Mmm, cher?” Your ears must be clogged too. Your husband’s voice sounded staticky and a bit distant, as if you were listening to his radio broadcast. You started to reply but another coughing fit interrupted you.

Another try. “Alastor, good-“ you tried to greet him but you cough didn’t stop.

He sat up and gently put the back of his hand to your forehead. His hand looked a little funny. Did you two not clean up after a kill last night? Maybe that’s why you felt so awful. “Ah, mon petit coeur, you’re sick. Best you stay in bed today my dear.”

“Cher,” you managed to croak out. There went any thoughts of performing tonight. “Your hair is all red and-“ you paused to cough “-there’s twigs in it! Didn’t we wash up last night?” You reached up to brush the twigs away. He was so careful about washing blood off yet his hair must have been soaked with it.

“What?” Maybe the two of you had been up very late; his eyes looked bloodshot too. “Y/N, what are you…?” He trailed off as you got a look at your hand. Goodness, you were still covered in blood too! “Ah, mais non cher. We’re in Hell. Remember my dear?”

“I know I feel awful-“ you said around coughs “-but saying this is Hell is a bit much Alastor.”

He grasped your hand. “Y/N. We’re dead my dear. We have been for almost a century.” He gently brushed a sweaty lock of hair from your face. “We really are in Hell, cher.”

Oh. That wasn’t your ears being clogged up. The Radio Demon. His voice was just like that now. “Fuck.” You flopped back onto your pillow, shrike wings spreading out limply.

“Hmm, I don’t believe either of us would be up for that,” your husband said mildly.

You grumbled. “Isn’t being in Hell punishment enough? Getting sick on top of that seems a bit much.” You did your best to focus your magick. A little silver halo of wind formed above your head to make a cooling breeze.

As you dozed, Alastor busied himself in the kitchen. Shortly he returned with a tray of food and tea. The tea had a generous helping of honey, the bowl of grits was one of your comfort foods and was easy to eat. After making sure you were settled, he left to inform Charlie and the hotel’s residents of the situation.

Unbeknownst to you, once informed that you were ill, Charlie responded with the expected sympathy at first. Then she gasped and launched to her feet. “That’s it! That will be perfect for today’s activity!”

“Say what now?” Alastor’s voice scratched at her sudden enthusiasm.

“We can work on helping Y/N feel better! Hey everyone!” She bounced up and down, waving excitedly at the residents. “Today we’re going to work on ‘helping someone in need!’” Alastor’s eye twitched as she started making plans.

“Sweetie, what’s this all about?” Vaggie asked as she got to the main floor. By then the little group was all gathered in the parlor.

“Y/N is sick sooooo this is the perfect opportunity to work on ‘helping others!’ Being selfless and helping others feel better is sure to help on the path to redemption! So I want everyone to start brainstorming how to make Y/N feel better.” She dashed over to a pile of paper, saying she was sure she had notes about what to do when someone is sick. Alastor’s eyelid continued to twitch.

Vaggie, ever the perceptive one, noticed his irritation. “Charlie, sweetie, did you make sure Alastor and Y/N are okay with this?”

“Right! Alastor, can we all help you take care of Y/N until she’s feeling better?” She clasped her hands together as she looked up at him. Begrudgingly he agreed to ask if you were up for it.

You were sipping your tea, letting the warmth soothe your throat. “I suppose I don’t mind,” you said, surprising your husband as he cleared away the tray. “It’s more interesting than staying in bed all day.”

“If you insist my dear. May I?” He held out his arms to scoop you up at your agreement. “Although you will be right back up here if those misfits go too far.” You chuckled as you curled up in his embrace. Or you tried to, but ended up coughing.

He sighed and carried you down to the parlor. You could hear Charlie cooing at the sight of the Radio Demon gently bringing his wife down the stairs.

One thing you’d come to find out in your afterlife was that your animal traits came to the fore at strange times. One of which was when you weren’t feeling well or recovering from an injury. You preferred being in something more like a nest than a bed at those times. So Alastor snapped his fingers and a pile of overstuffed pillows manifested on the ground.

You shivered as you settled in. “I want the duvet cher.”

“Oh oh! We can do that!” Charlie waved her hand widely. “Angel, Pentious, this is a great way to start!”

“Very well then! Minions! Let us fetch the lady’s blanket for her!” The snake demon slithered to your suite, eggs chattering as they followed along. “‘S called a duvet…” you mumbled sleepily. Once you were wrapped up, your day being a target for ‘assistance’ began. Alastor wasn’t about to leave you alone with them, so he settled into the nearby wingback chair.

Angel disappeared and returned wearing a skimpy nurse’s outfit, complete with thigh high stockings. “Alright toots, Nurse Angel Dust is here to make you feel all better baby.” He pulled a thermometer out of his chest fluff and popped it into your mouth. The thermometer beeped rapidly and he took a look at the reading. “Oh shit, you really are sick.”

You stared at him blankly; Alastor’s eye twitched and his smile twisted in annoyance. “Yes. Yes I am. Thank you for the assessment.” Angel held up a finger and dashed off. He returned with an ice pack, lozenges, and an extremely phallic shaped popsicle.

He plopped the ice pack on your head and popped the frozen treat in your mouth just like he had with the thermometer. “There you go, sweet cheeks, that’ll help your throat. I’ll get you somethin to eat.”

“No need! Doctor Pentious is here with the cure for the lady’s illsss.” Pentious slithered up, dressed in a white coat with a head mirror strapped on. The egg bois had matching outfits and were carrying reflex hammers, tongue depressors, and a bone saw. One had a highball glass ready. Pentious produced a dark colored bottle labeled as Dr. S. Pentious’ Hellish Cure All! For all aches, pains, coughing, toothaches, cramps, and gunshot wounds.

He poured the red tinted dark liquid out. You could swear it smoked in the glass. Before he could hand it to you, Alastor grabbed the glass and tossed it into the fireplace. The glass shattered and the liquid evaporated in the flames, making a puff of skull shaped smoke. “No patent medicines for my darling, chum.”

“What?! It works perfectly for my minions!” Pentious looked offended.

“Your minions are disposable. Y/N is not.” You could see his antlers stretch as his annoyance grew.

“Ooooookay, that’s a good start! Angel, Pentious, how about you two make something for her to eat?” Charlie shoved both of them out towards the kitchen. Thankfully, Alastor calmed down as they left. You continued eating your popsicle, deliberately not thinking about how it looked while he relaxed into the chair with his eyes closed.

“At least they mean well, cher,” you reminded him. He cracked open one eyelid at you, clearly annoyed by everything in existence.

Just as you finished the popsicle (it did help soothe your throat) Husk walked up. “Here, this should actually help.” He held out a medicine cup, with a dose of syrupy liquid in it. “Actual medicine, none of that snake oil crap.” He also had a glass of whiskey for Alastor. “Figure you need something to take the edge off.”

“Perceptive as always Husker,” he sipped gratefully and added, “although I may need more than one of these if this keeps up.”

“I’ll keep ‘em coming boss. Better than you rip our only residents into pieces.”

Husk kept providing glasses of water for you and whiskey for your husband. You vaguely heard some metallic banging and voices from the direction of the kitchen, but nothing really distinct. Eventually Angel and Pentious returned with soup. Chicken noodle, with enough spice to clear your sinuses. The two of them regaled you with how they cooked it, each trying to claim they did more than the other.

Finally Vaggie stepped in. “Look it doesn’t matter which one you dumbasses made it if she doesn’t get to have any because you keep arguing about it. So shut up and let her eat it before it’s cold.”

“Fiiiiiiiine,” Angel leaned over to you with the bowl. “Open wide toots,” sounding way more sensual than any nurse should be.

You grabbed the bowl. “I can feed myself Angel.” Fortunately the soup was pretty good, once you could actually have it. You snuggled into your nest. “Alastor, ma cher, it’s about time for your broadcast.” The sound of a record scratching filled the room as he glared at you, then at Charlie’s group still brainstorming ways to ‘help’ you. “I’ll be fine darling. Vaggie and Husk should be able to wrangle them. I think,” you added in an undertone.

He hesitated and you waved him off with a shooing motion. “Very well cher. I’ll be back right after.” He kissed your knuckles before vanishing into his shadows.

“Y/N, Y/N! I made you tea!” Niffty skittered over with a tea set on a tray. “Merci Niffty, that’s very sweet of you.” She giggled maniacally but you were used to that. “It’s supposed to be really good for when you’re sick, ginger and honeybee!” she added just as you took a sip. You froze and managed to spit it back into the cup.

“Niffty! You’re supposed to use honey not honeybees,” Charlie exclaimed, whisking the cup away. You desperately groped for your water; Pentious realized what you needed and got the glass in your hand. You rinsed your mouth before gulping down the rest. Husk brought you a refill and you chugged that too.

Sir Pentious picked up the tiny maid. “Niffty dear, let’s go clean this up and make some fresh tea.”

“Awww and it took forever to catch all those bees,” she complained as they headed back to the kitchen. “Geez, you can’t take your eyes off her, huh?” Angel said, running a hand through his hair.

“Hey, Angel?” Surprised, he looked down at you. “Could you read for me?”

“Huh? Ya want me to…read?” You nodded. “Uh…sure, I guess. Whatcha wanna hear?”

“There’s a book on my nightstand,” you managed between coughs. Husk brought you a new dose of cough syrup. “Can you grab that?”

“You’re gonna let me into your and Al’s room?” You nodded again. “A’right, so long as Smiles doesn’t get mad at me for it.” He returned a few moments later with the book. “Dang toots, I thought my room was crazy; why d’you have a whole damn swamp in yours?”

“ ‘S a bayou. Reminds us of home,” you said drowsily. The spider demon could only shrug at that. He settled onto the couch, long legs crossed gracefully, and opened the novel to your marked page.

He faltered at first but as he continued his voice got smoother. The pitch dropped just a little and his accent became heavier. It was a bit odd to hear Agatha Christie in his voice, but that didn’t stop you from enjoying it. You ended up falling asleep, thinking you were finally hearing the real Angel.

Alastor returned once his program finished to find you still asleep in your mountain of cushions. Angel was still reading your book, silently now. He’d noticed your light snores, placed your bookmark and kept reading on his own. “Ya know Al, this thing’s pretty good,” he said as he noticed your husband’s arrival. “Your girl’s got good taste.”

“Well, I’m glad you finally noticed.” His voice woke you up; you poked your head out from under the duvet. “How are you feeling cher?”

“Mmm,” you tried to assess things. You felt slightly itchy and sweaty. “I could use a bath.”

Angel Dust immediately perked up. “Oh, Nurse Angel has that covered doll face.” At the flat no from the two of you, he only smiled wickedly. “What? I’ve got six hands,” he popped the hidden arms out, “I can scrub her down real good. And you too, tall, dark, and spooky.” He flashed his gold tooth at Alastor, who finally had enough. Your husband picked you up and after a brief moment of darkness you both appeared in your bathroom.

“Hopefully he got the hint,” you remarked as Alastor gently stripped your nightgown off.

“If not I’ll make sure to drive it home.” He drew the bath for you and lowered you into the tub. “Ah ah cher. I haven’t been able to fuss over you all day,” he scolded as you moved to soap up a sponge. “Surely you won’t deny me the chance to participate in the ‘helping others’ exercise?”

“Never darling.” So you relaxed as he stripped off his jacket, shirt, and undershirt, leaving his trousers on. You stayed passive as he cleaned all the sweat from your skin. He was gentle and thorough, caring but not sensual in his motions. As he massaged your scalp, you felt yourself getting drowsy again.

By the time he was done you were ready to crawl back in bed. “Not yet my dear, we need you dry and dressed first.” You grumbled but shook off sleep to cooperate.

When he brought you back to the main room, you found a fresh bowl of soup, a pot of actual tea, another dose of cough syrup, and your book on the table. The pillow nest and duvet had also been brought up. There was a card written in crayon on the tray of food. Get Well Soon! was on the front, along with smiley faces and rainbows. The inside had signatures from everyone (egg bois 1 through 4 and Frank included) and a message from Charlie thanking you both for your help today.

You handed the card to Alastor; he read it, smirked and set it onto your bookshelf. Unlike Angel earlier, you let him feed you spoonfuls of soup. You could drink your own damn tea though. Once the food was gone, he settled you back into your nest with a kiss to your forehead. “Bonne nuit, cher.”

That was your routine for the next few days, until Hell’s version of influenza ran its course. Just a couple days after you started feeling better though, you were awoken by deep coughs next to you. “Oh no darling.” Of course Alastor caught it. Through his bleary red eyes you could tell he was dreading the attentions of the hotel residents. “Not to worry cher, I’ll handle it.”

In a reversal of last week, you told Charlie that Alastor was sick. She was again sympathetic before getting excited. “This is great! We can review everything we learned taking care of-“

“No. No no no Charlie. Alastor is not a patient patient and even sick he’ll rip them to bits. So I’ll take care of him and you guys can help me. From outside the room. Understood?”

The princess might have insisted but Vaggie quickly spun her and slid the taller girl across the floor. “Yup, last week was stressful enough, I’m not pushing our luck again. C’mon sweetie, let’s get started on the soup.”

Satisfied you returned to your suite and let your husband know the situation. “Merci, mon petit coeur,” he managed before a coughing fit kicked off. You rubbed his back. “It’s the least I can do darling.”

A/N: Happy Valentines Day readers and especially to my fellow acespecs! 💜🤍🩶🖤

@whitewolfsoldat @edgyboi10000 @ch3sire-blu3 @clearly-awkward @badatpunz @bengewatch @chewbrry

[cowgurrrl]

Okayyy bear with me, this for our OFTM! What about a celeb who meets actress!reader at some awards or something or they’ve worked together and the pictures turn out so gorgeous and he uploads it with some cheesy lovey dovey caption and it kinda sets Joel off with jealousy and a bigggg green eyed monster. It doesn’t help that Tommy, Ellie, and Sarah start pulling his leg in their fam group chat saying oh wow look at mom with him or something and y’know tommy would pull his leg more to get a reaction out of Joel. And Joel is just alternating between fighting for his life in the chat and fighting for his wife with actress!reader and just comedy and fluffiness????

(also I have one more inspo that I dreamt of sending you in the next one)

OOOOOHHHH LOVE THIS I haven’t played around with jealous joel in SUCH A LONG TIME also I know you weren’t necessary referring them but I immediately thought of Jessica Chastain and Oscar Isaac because I MEAN

ANYWAYS HERE WE GO

Wildflower & Barley

Pairing: rockstar!joel miller x actress!reader

Summary: this ask

Warnings: ✨multi-media✨, jealousy, life stuff, literally just them being the sweetest couple

You sigh as you read the text. Joel is normally very comfortable in your relationship, unshaken by the various actors and actresses who’ve played your love interests and partners on screen. He shrugs off silly press comments, sits through love scenes remarkably well, and even goes as far as congratulating your costar on a job well done. “Not that it’s hard to pretend to be in love with her,” he said when asked about it in a red carpet interview a few years ago. But, once in a blue moon, he gets jealous and a little insecure. You figure Spencer’s post didn’t help with the little green monster sitting on his shoulder the past few months. 

With all your littles in school now, you’re extremely busy. You’re constantly running around from baseball practices, PTA meetings, recitals, doctor’s appointments, birthday parties, and more. Not to mention making time for all the Miller-Hernandez-Caradonna-Pierce grandkids, Isaac, Cecilia, and JJ. Joel’s working on a new album and getting his record label up and running while you’re not only directing and co-producing a smaller film while acting in a different one and getting ready to go on a (limited) press tour. You and Joel haven’t had the most time to catch up, and it feels like you’re passing ships. It’s temporary. You know it is, but it doesn’t feel good to see your costars more than you get to see your husband. You’re almost positive Joel’s jealousy stems from that. 

“Hey, you ready to get back to it?” Your co-producer, Ava, asks, jolting you out of your thoughts, and you nod. 

“Let’s do it.” You say as you tuck your phone into your back pocket. The day goes relatively smoothly with only one broken prop and an impromptu refresher session with one of your actors and the armorer. You make it a point to end the day early so you can get home and talk to Joel before one of you can fall asleep on the couch (a bad habit you’ve both developed recently), and thank god you did. 

The second you open the door, you can smell the delicious dinner Joel is making in the kitchen and hear the music he’s blasting through the Alexa. “Mom!” Sammy yells as he and the girls run over in a flurry of overlapping stories and demands for hugs and kisses. Even though Sam is nine now and on the cusp of thinking he’s too cool for his parents, he’s still your little love bug. 

“Mommy, will you come draw with me?” Violet asks and you smile as you tuck a curl behind her ear.

“Of course, baby. Can I go say hi to Daddy first?” 

“Fine but hurry!” Violet whines, making you laugh. You hang up your purse by the front door and toe off your shoes, already feeling better with your heels off, and pad into the kitchen. Joel is wearing the apron you got him for Christmas last year that says “Caution: Hot Dad” and made the older girls groan in embarrassment. You laugh when you see it on him, and he quickly turns down the Bee Gees to hear you. 

“You’re home early.” He says as he leans down to peck your lips and wrap an arm around your waist. You chase his lips and kiss him again before pulling away to look at him.

“Wanted to catch you before bedtime,” you say, and he hums. “Plus, we’re making good time on production. We can afford to cut a little early.”

“Well, I‘m glad you did.” He says. You can hear the kids in the other room playing loudly and you know Violet is gonna burst in any moment and order you to draw with her so you savor the semi-private moment with him.

“Are we okay?” You ask quietly and he takes a deep breath. 

“We’re okay.” 

“It’s okay if we’re not.” 

“Baby,” he soothes, slipping a hand in your back pocket. “We’re okay, I promise. I just… had a moment.” 

“It’s fine to have a moment. I don’t want you to keep that from me just because we’re busy,” you say. “You don’t actually think I’d trade you in for someone else or whatever the fuck Tommy said, right?” He sighs and you raise your eyebrows at him.

“Just… please tell me this isn’t like a Mr. and Mrs. Smith thing.” He says. You would laugh if he didn’t seem as upset as he does just because of how bizarre the idea is. How could anyone ever compare to him? How could he even think that you’d leave him like that?

“This isn’t a Mr. and Mrs. Smith thing. Not even close to it. Spencer has been married to his wife longer than we’ve been married and they’re solid. I promise, he just posted that to get people excited about the movie.”

“You’re not wearing your ring in the picture.” He says. You pull the chain hiding under your collar out and show him.

“I was. You just couldn’t see it.” 

“How long have you had that?” 

“Since we got engaged. You’ve definitely seen it before.” You say, laughing a little at the surprised look on his face. 

“Yeah, but I didn’t know that’s why you wore it. I thought you got it as a wrap gift or somethin’.” He defends. It makes sense why he wouldn’t know. You only take the necklace off when it can’t be hidden under the costume, and even then, it’s normally tucked into your pocket or, at the very least, hidden safely in your trailer. It’s a part of your routine to put your ring back on at the end of a shooting day or between breaks to help you transition back into your real life, which means Joel only sees it after it’s returned to its rightful spot. Even the few times he’s been on set filming something with you, you’ve been so busy that he didn’t have time to notice it. 

“Good to know I can still surprise you all these years later,” you say. He only looks a little embarrassed when he reaches around you to turn off the stove. The kids are, thankfully, still occupied, and you take the opportunity before it can slip away. “Joel, I adore you. I am still as helplessly in love with you as I was when we were in New York for the first time. There isn’t anybody else for me, okay? It’s you. It’s always gonna be you. So you don’t need to worry about costars or living Brangelina or whatever because you are it for me.” He works at his jaw as he processes your words, and you wait. Joel’s mind has always been an elusive one, so you like watching his gears turn. 

“Okay,” he mumbles finally. “I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to be sorry. You just have to tell me when you’re feeling this way,” you say, kissing his jaw. “Besides, if you’d said something earlier, I would’ve been able to tell you that you’re a much better kisser than Spencer.”

“I was just gettin’ over the post, and now I have to watch y’all kiss?!” He groans dramatically, and you laugh. 

“You’re the one who married an actor.” 

“And I’d do it again.” He says as he kisses you, crowding your space so you’re stuck between him and the counter. It’s broken between giggles and kitchen timers beeping but it isn’t until Violet tugs at your shirt do you fully break away from Joel.

“Mommy, you said you would come draw with me.” She pouts, and you immediately drop down to her level.

“I’m so sorry, baby. I did say that. Daddy just had a hard day so I was trying to cheer him up. I can come draw with you now.” You explain, and she gasps, looking between you and Joel.

“Daddy!” She exclaims, putting her hands on her hips. “Why didn’t you tell me you were having a bad day?” 

“Because it’s not your job to fix Daddy’s day.” 

“But I want to! Can I give you a kiss?”

“I wanna give Daddy a kiss!” Sophia runs in, launching herself into Joel’s arms. He scoops both girls up and kiss his cheeks simultaneously, making you both laugh. 

“Thank you, girls. You always make me feel better.” He says, and they giggle.

“What about Mom?” Sam asks. He’s too big and too tall for you to pick him up anymore, but he snuggles perfectly under your arm and squeezes you tight. 

“You’re so sweet, honey. Thank you.” You say, kissing his head. 

“Are you better now?”

“So much better.” 

“Daddy, are you better?” Violet asks. Joel meets your eyes over the heads of the kids and smiles. It’s sweet and just for you, and you can’t help but smile back. 

“I’m perfect.”

[lasirenatarot]

Hello darlings!!💋 This is my first ever PAC reading, hope you like it! If traditional gender roles aren’t applicable to you convert to feminine/masculine energy.

{18+} Your person’s hidden $€xual fantasies about you and will they reveal them to you.

—>Pile 1

9 pentacles; 8pentacles; 6cups; high priestess; the empress; 9 of swords reversed; and more from other decks.

First of all let me just mention: do not shoot the messenger if you do not like what is being said.I am getting kinda weird vibes from your person pile 1! ( i don’t judge tho lololol)

Briefly, the whole vibe I’m getting can be described with this Weeknd song “Professional” or “Six feet under”, again by The Weeknd,  where he sings about a girl who does SW professionally if I can say it like that. The image I’m getting is red lights district if u know what I meannn..

«…You're professional, won’t treat it like it's personal

No, 'cause this is just love, it always makes its way back around…

'Cause everything you've been through made you stronger and every day you learn about yourself..

Depending on somebody else's wealth

But now you know the value of a dollar

And girl I make enough of it to spend

I love the way you've put yourself together.. »

Nowww, I am not saying this man’s fantasies are to cheat with a S*x worker if y’all are in a committed relationship *you can switch the word to masculine energy if it is not applicable to your situation*, I think he will be onto some role-playing sh*t where the feminine is the dominant one and he is PAYING to be dominated, take this how u want. I do not see anything aggressive tho, more like a soft fem-dom, although he may like being restricted in a way as I’m getting Saturn energy. Blindfolding, spending money..

His fantasy is an independent, detached woman who is ALL about her money, an Empress with a man-eater typa energy. The masculine energy from this pile may be dominant in his job/life as a whole, and that is why he would like the exact opposite in bed. He may be very busy and tired as well from his work and this would be another reason for him to like the woman to take the lead. I am also getting cowgirl, riding and some form of exhibitionism (or even str**pers, lap dancing etc.) as additional details. He may like this role playing thing because he sees it as a game which helps him escape some sort of melancholy. Mutual pleasure is a thing for him as well, he likes to work for the feminine’s approval, serving her in a way. Some may not like this as well but I’ll say it anyway- physical beauty and foreign women *fem energy* may be a turn on for this person. He has wounds from his past he should face is sth else I am getting. He may also like to appear as a savior to this fantasy woman I described, a knight on a white horse if u will..

« She don't depend on anybody, know just what to do with her own body..Countin' all that money like a hobby..she don’t give a f**ck about nobody..

She don't need nobody waitin' back home, she got it..

She lick it up just like a candy, She wanna make 'em leave they family

She tryna live a life so fancy, she wanna pull up in a Bentley..

She ain't got time for lovin' , Louis Vuitton her husband, she’d rather die in lustin' ..»

However, I do not think he would openly admit his fantasies, he would like them to stay a secret.

Placements: aquarius venus; Capricorn; scorpio sun; fire placements, possibly leo; mars in gemini. – aqua venus/leo may be for the femme, while Capricorn and scorpio for the masc. or vice versa.

—>Pile 2

This pile will probably be the most romantic one out of the three. I am not getting much s**ual details, besides some sort of very light bondage, more likely handcuffs.

This person’s fantasy is to build a life with you basically, they want to share both the good and the bad moments in life with you, focusing on the good, as a lot of cups fell which gives me party vibes. The masculine energy would like things to start veeeery slow, he is a person who pays a lot of attention to detail, even too much. This person would like to know everything about you, your interests, hardships and opinions. He would be the type to actually listen to what you say and remember little details about you and what you like. I think the connection y’all (people who choose pile2) have is pretty new.

You and your person might still be in the “courtship” stages even. This person is the type to write love letters, send flowers, presents, wine&dine typa man - everything romantic and sweet overall.  I am getting lots of cuddles, hugs etc. -I must say I am very jealous of you pile 2 ahahahh🧿🧿🧿

 His hidden fantasy is to be romantic, give all the love he has to you, and get the same energy back. The reason why is ‘hidden’ I think lies in the fact that he may have been betrayed by past partners, not having got the same amount of energy/love he was giving OR he may have been raised in a family in which emotional people were looked upon as weak ORRR both. I think currently this person has an open heart or is on a mission to become more vulnerable and openly emotional with those he loves, which I think is a very sweet thing.

This person would def share his fantasies about you with you. He would want you to remember the intercourses y’all are having, maybe even be “the best u ever had”, this person also loves and worships your body and is the type to praise/compliment you in bed. Would also love to see you dressing up for him in lingerie, nice dress, full glam and all. This person loves just seeing you shining and happy, would want to make you come every time.

I am also getting they have been waiting looong time for a person like you to come into his life, even if he was in another relationship prior to getting with you. He was probably feeling his soul was “sick” or like something was missing in previous connections. And there was sth missing – the chemistry, conversations and intimacy you two currently have. Some people are meant to be, some not,  and that’s just life.- Astrological placements: Sagittarius, scorpio, venus in pisces, mercury in pisces, embodiment of leo energy for the feminine, I am not getting leo placements tho. The attention to detail is giving virgo moon for some reason to me, although it did not appear in the cards.

—>Pile 3

This may definitely be the k*inky pile. First thing I get is that this person likes taking risks, adventures and is very spontaneous in nature. This person needs constant changes in their s*x life. I feel like they’d try everything taboo you can think of, at least once, and would be open to anything.

!!!!TW!!!!!

The only particular theme I get would be a “fantasy” for this person is power dynamics in which the masculine is the dominant one, while the feminine is very submi$$ive. Also ro**ugh/aggre$$ive s*x. This of course would be consensual and I also get they’d get pleasure from pleasing their partner as well, getting them to experience “a little d€ath”.

Ch*king and heavy BD$M theme, the whole act is a game for them. Their main fantasy would be to tame *metaphorical* in bed an independent woman who would be submissive only for him.

It’s giving you can be the boss by lana del rey

This person may be jealous and possessive tho. (if you are not okay with any of this and feel like they cross a line – LEAVE them).

I also get they maybe have some insecurities in themselves. This may not be applicable for all, but this is a collective reading after all.

They like having a trophy wife typa woman?? /fem.  

I think this person would be open with you about their fantasies.

Astrological placements: aquarius, gemini sun, libra moon, aries, aries mars.

I hope you liked it!! I also added songs which remind me of the vibes I got while reading the cards. Please give me feedback and follow me, and just know that more is coming 🔜🔜

- La Sirena🥀🥀🥀

[abibliophobiaa]

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 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.”

-

-

[keepyourpantsongohan]

Ayesha Liveblogs Spy x Family S2

Awww, I like that Bond Forger the Dog also gets an intro about HIS secret identity. Equal opportunity deceit

Are we finally going to learn who exacty Yor is fighting? I would like to know!

Been there Anya, I also had little patience for watching the news as as a kid. Though, it seems more important in a pre-internet era

"Okay, you can change the channel." Loid Forger, International Spy, defeated by one (1) sad look from his little daughter

"I absolutely cannot tell him that I got shot in the butt while fighting a group of armed men." 10/10 episode plot, I cannot wait

"I've been relying on her too much without realizing it, and it's upset her. Yes, that must be it! I must do everything in my power to remedy this at once!" Loid immediately blaming Yor's mood on himself and deciding he has to be respond by being a better husband!!! I will keep saying it. He is THE Husband. World's Most Husband

"Why don't we go on a date?" HEE HEE

Puzzling that Yor thinks she hasn't been on a date though, when I can think of at least three dates so far (party-grenade-proposal date, lunch date, and drinks-and-reassurance date)

"I can't leave Anya alone at home, and this is a very important mission to ensure that we remain one happy family." It seems Loid has learned from the spy transmission debacle

"Last night, I came up with 862 date plans to ensure that Yor has fun." He's insane. I want to give him a leetle kiss

HAHAHAHA Franky being absolutely thrilled to bother Loid and Yor on their date. What a friendship 💕

Intriguing that Anya's telepathy has a distance limit. Tell me more!

Honestly, Yor having to position herself in a specific way to avoid pain is relatable. We love a chronic pain queen

"This woman had built up an immunity to poisons." HAHAHAHAHA the poison fixing Yor's pain. Sometimes, drinking does solve your problems!

LMAOOOO them censoring the bomb components. A real "don't try this at home" moment

NOT THE BABY MAKING THE BOMB. ANYA PLEASE

"I'm going to forget all this and live a normal life." Perfect. Forgers reforming their enemies left and right

"If it's not too much trouble, please invite me out again sometime." Never let being married stand in the way of your husband becoming your boyfriend 🥰

SCREAM at Bond's perception of what Loid does for work. I guess he's closer to the truth than most:

"Are you trying to do this for your... no. Are you trying to get revenge for your friends who were experimented on?" HAHAHA is Loid blushing because he wants to call himself his dog's dad?

FBKFJHFFHKJHF Loid taking on Bond as his mission back-up. He truly can be swayed so easily

WHERE DID LOID GET A DOG-SIZED SKI MASK AHHAHAHA

I love the giant puppy spy sidekick, employ this dog ASAP

"While they're busy playing, I'm going to work hard to get to the top," said Damian Desmond, Six Years Old, for whom The Top was beating all the other little bougie first graders

"Your friendship... preciously elegant." Me whenever I finish hanging out with my friends

I love that Henderson-sensei sends the kids out on a picnic as a punishment. He really is as silly as he is strict

I don't know if this is a vegetarian thing or a cultural thing but it always seems wild to me how people in anime bite into fish, scales and all

"Did you know that the most recent studies in neuroscience suggest that your brain feels really revitalized when you're spacing out?" I like Mr. Green, Grizzled Navy Custodian, too

HAHA Damian trying his hardest to space out. Me when people tell me to practice mindfulness

"Oh, you don't [have a goal], eh? That's perfectly fine!" "Actually, I want to live my life eating lots of snacks." "Splendid! You'll have to think earnestly about how to make that possible." I take it back, I LOVE MR. GREEN

Ready to sob about this field trip actually. AHHHHHHH:

"Good evening, Mr. Vile Trash." ACAB; All Cops are (Weird) Brothers

"What's so wrong about trying to improve the country my family lives in?" Nothing but the hostile, paternalistic nationalism of a Cold War, Frank Perkin, Newspaper Sensationalist and Adult Bully of Wealthy Children

"I'll request that your father gets some financial aid to get by." I feel like that will not make up for imprisoning his son, Yuri, but whatever helps you sleep

"Blech." That's also how I feel about Weird Brother Yuri, Anya

"Revenge will only make you sadder. I'll make you forget about all that with my love." This is the plot of Naruto

Honestly, I was super sold on the Bondman Polycule when it was just him, his spy partner Agent M, and the enemy spy lady who had all linked arms together. I feel like this could work:

"How was anything he did gentlemanly?" Loid said: I'm a one-woman kind of spy

"Lord Damian, how could you possibly pick the joker there." "Shut up!' [Internally] She's so unfair... Damn it! I like to believe Loid might approve of Damian's crush purely because he is also willing to do whatever Anya wants if she makes one (1) sad face

Poor Anya. She's really most suited to using her street smarts

"Garden? The group of assassins who have been in this country for ages? They're basically urban legends, aren't they?" FINALLY we're finding out more about Yor's job!! They do in fact seem at cross purposes with the spies

[Loid already walking away] "He's such a heartless jerk." I bet you $5 he has already decided to help Franky LMAO

Update from 8 min later: Alright, I owe you $5, he didn't care

"Am I normal?! Oh, thank goodness!" said Yor excitedly, as if that were not a moderately suspicious response to being called normal

Excited for an ep with no double-barreled title. Plot progression!

I truly don't know where this falls on the spectrum of ways that anime will depict black and brown characters LMAO. Like Donovan Desmond, the Shopkeeper has an extremely haunting aura:

"You will be providing protection on this mission." Oooooh, change of pace!

"Is there actually any reason why I should continue my job as a killer?" A question every assassin should ask themselves, I think

"HQ may or may not be trying to cut back on our shady overtime practices." Incredible. I can't believe even the underground spy agency has PTO. I wonder who regulates spy labour law

"If not for this bodyguard job, the three of us could've enjoyed this vacation together." AWWW Yor loves her family so much

"You can say this is a gangster's destiny." [Reba voice] A single mom who works too hard, who loves her kid never stops!

"Papa! We need to hurry up and explore the ship before it sinks!" "It's not going to sink! Stop scaring everyone." The fact the staircase looks distinctly modelled after that one scene from Titanic really sells Anya's point

Loid incapable of framing having fun as anything but a mission ljggkjgj truly he might benefit from a Real Psychologist

"That family's just for camoflauge, right?" "Yes, you're right... Is... that true?" I love Yor slowly admitting that she loves her family for their own sake 💗

As Yor was declaring doing her best, I did worry briefly that someone was going to [redact] Olka. Other anime have been less kind to me than Spy x Family

I love Yor making another mum friend in Olka 💞 Gal pals

Finally saying suspicious things in public has a consequence!!

"It's been a while since we've had dinner without Mama." "Yeah, it's a bit lonely." Hee hee, Loid misses his wife

I love the immediate transformation in Yor's face as soon as Olka/Shaty says she didn't order room service

I don't have much to say but I am really entranced by the assassin vs. assassin + informant goings on!!

"I may not look it, but I'm a married woman, so I'll have to decline." Absolutely loving Yor quietly and efficiently beating these hitmen unconscious as she passes through the cruise ship

"Which is it?! Would normal parents buy their child something in this situation or not?!" Loid is incapable of making a decision without thinking about how it looks in relation to him being a spy. Anxiety king

[In Anya's mind] "Yor! You're an assasin who hates frogs? Let's get a divorce. The Forgers are done." Like father, like anxiety-ridden daughter

"I am a normal father. A good father," said Loid, which is frankly not usually something a good or normal father would say

"Papa, you're not excited at all." Loid defeated by one (1) six-year-old's piercingly accurate psychoanalysis

Loid is facing a true Psychological Battle: The Fitting Room

Anya Ultimate Wingman Award for convincing everyone her mum's battle is actually a circus act

Awwww, Zeb, Fake Husband to Olka, likes her. I hope this is a healthy experience in Yor seeing other fake couples work it out, but I do also think Zeb could mega-die

"As long we people continue to be people, conflict will never end." Alright, Director Doomsday, calm down

"What am I? What am I doing this for?" [B Eilish voice] What was I made foooooor?

"Does she hate me? Or is she just going through a rebellious phase?" Loid whenever one of the Forger girls looks upset: THIS MUST BE MY FAULT SOMEHOW

A hasty and confident NO to Assassin Sniff's whole vibes

We interrupt this program to think about how cute Loid and Anya are!! I love Loid entertaining Anya and also supporting her while he thinks she's missing Yor

"Nice, Mr. Husband!" Oh good, we love a bulletproof vest for Zeb!

Truly a wild juxtaposition of Forger Family Fireworks Night:

"This might be a bit late to ask, but would you consider just peacefully going home?" I love you, Compassionate Combat

I'm having a hard time believing all this will happen without Loid eventually noticing; the fireworks are long gone. I actually do hope Loid crashes her battle, Director Doomsday is out cold

"I'm doing this to support my family.... wait. I guess I am also doing this for money. But... no, I make enough to survive now. I'm hunting down bad guys for my country! For my country? Have I always been so righteous? What am I doing this for?" Poor Yor, this is like the worst possible time for an existential crisis

YOR AND LOID BOTH BEING MOTIVATED BY THEIR DESIRE FOR OTHERS TO LIVE A PEACEFUL LIFE 😭💘😭💘😭💘😭💘

[In Yor's flashback] "Be it for someone else, or for a specific reason, having to endure a merciless job... That's something to be very proud of." I'm sure Loid will acknowledge me. He'll forgive me. I like to think so too, Yor!!

Never mind to Loid helping Yor out, he is busy disarming a bomb threatening to sink them. This truly is the Titanic LMAO

LGLHGLGJHGLJHG Anya accidentally tripping the assassins so they shoot each other. Like mother, like daughter 💖

"You'll be able to enjoy the symphony of agonized screams and roars coming through the wiretaps on this ship." I can't wait for Loid to sink this guy with his own clock-bomb

Update from 30 seconds later: See? Self-owned and sunk

Awwwww Yor really does deserve the baby hug after the day she's had:

"I pray that, someday, you and your family will be able to find true peace." OLKAAAA

"I know it was an emergency, but I ended up casting my family aside again." Loid and Yor having the same crisis about whether to prioritize their family or their jobs 🥺🥺🥺

Loid's blush at Yor catching him skipping as he continues to skip over in her direction. Hee hee

"I hope peaceful days like this will continue forever." ME TOO, YOR!

Get you a mum who would secretly beat up sharks for you ❤️‍🩹

Setting aside how fun snorkeling is, absolutely terrible idea to go into the ocean with an open wound OMG

Loid carrying his whole family is the cutest thing I've ever seen, 10 bajilion/10zo; perfect:

[Internally] "You did a great job." Loid is in loooooove

"I can never tell if he's actually clever, or clumsy." Me either, Handler

Anya learning about the vacation disparity of rich kids LMAO

"If youre going to create a persona for yourself, you need to be strategic and commit." Not Loid turning this lie lecture into a spy lecture in his mind

"Lying is too much work, so I'll try not to do it anymore." Anya's entire set of adult role models do nothing but lie all the time, she really has no frame of reference for honesty

I do a little bit hate the Becky fantasizing about Loid thing, I have been Cardcaptor Sakura'd too much in life

NOT ANYA SELLING OUT HER MUM FOR THE POSSIBILITY OF BECKY BEING HER RICH SIX-YEAR-OLD STEPMUM OH MY GOD

I feel like they take a lot of liberties in translating "Loid-sama" as "my precious Loid" but hey, he is precious

"Yor's going to get the wrong idea, somehow." Loid has finally registered that this child is obsessed with him and he is only concerned for wife not thinking he's a freak. A good husband above all else

"I really don't understand the children of rich people." Me either, Loid

I need you to see Loid's face as Becky declares that this is his expression of love for Yor:

"Your heart is as vast as the sky, and you're stronger than the earth itself. You're the perfect lady." Correct, Becky! Yor is amazing

"I had some extra souvenirs left after handing them out to everyone else. Do you want them?" LMAO @ the implication being lost on Fiona that he doesn't even think of her enough to warrant her own souvenir

I will say, I really do resonate with the theme of the ep being Loid is Hot and Amazing to Everyone But No One Will Ever Measure Up to Yor in His Eyes

"Maybe you're too nice, and biting and barking don't really suit you." Everyone in the Forger family is too nice for their job, including Bond Forger, Precognitive Puppy

Awwww Bond trying to help out all the humans with his visions

LNKFHKFHKJFH Loid really just got reprimanded by his dog

"And he went into save [Daisy the puppy]? What an impressive dog!" I love the Spy Dad-Psychic Puppy tag-team ❤️

[Internally] "I am a cool-headed spy. I cannot let my emotions show." Loid remains deadpan through SO many things but his dog looking a little funny while wet is his limit. What a man!

"Don't push yourself too hard. There's someone waiting back home who would be sad if you died." 1) V sweet, dad first, hero second. And 2) This is the second time Loid has directly spoken to his life situation with a simultaneous thinly-veined dog metaphor

WAHHHHHHH Loid and Bond's heroics being acknowledged by Anya giving them little paper Stellas:

Yor immediately joining in and congratulating them for their hard work on their walk!!! I LOVE ONE (1) SPY X FAMILY 😭😭😭😭😭 IT'S A NICE SHOW

[nychthemeron-rants]

So a post made by @deszczowedni of Fem! Labru where they mention Fem! Laios being a single mom dungeoning and the canon genderbent Chilchuck from the magic mirror extra leaving the party for her family is giving me massive brain rot so have a quick summary of the resulting Single Moms AU that is rotting my brain.

Laios and Chilchuck are both dungeoning to support their families after their respective divorces.

Laios was put into an arranged marriage pretty much as soon as she was of marrying age thanks to her shitty father. While she and her husband were never in love, things were fine for a while and they were both at least mostly content… except Laios is still Laios. She still yearns for life outside the village, still nerds out over monsters, and still has the same social issues even if fem! Laios can mask just a teensy bit better. So, after several years (and the birth of their daughter) her husband’s resentment towards her comes to a head and he divorces Laios and abandons their young daughter looking for a fresh start. And despite knowing she should be more upset, Laios feels more relieved than anything. She saw this divorce as her chance to finally leave her village so despite her family’s wishes and advice she flees with her daughter. She rents a room in a town near the school she encouraged Falin to attend and tries to make things work as a single mother. However, money is tight. Very tight. And the odd jobs she picks up aren’t making ends meet anymore. So with Falin’s help she turns to dungeoning to make some more money for her and her daughter while a few helpful staff at the academy watch her daughter. Fast forward to current day and her daughter is finally old enough to actually attend the academy full time (between 8 and 10 years old since Marcille met Falin when she was 10) but that means money is even tighter as she has to scrounge up tuition but it also means she can spend more time in the dungeon at a time without worrying about her daughter’s safety.

For Chil, not that much changes. Chil is still a middle-aged, union-leading parent of 3 adult daughters. However, in this AU when Chil’s wife left, she didn’t go live with one of their daughters, she disappeared off the face of the earth. This causes their children to begin to worry like mad about her and about Chil as none of them know where the hell she went. As much as a part of Chil wants to go looking for her wife, another part of her is too emotionally constipated to face all of her feelings about her wife’s disappearance and chooses to instead focus on financially supporting her daughters who ARE busy looking for their mother. She feels a bit bad about disappearing into the dungeon when her kids are so emotionally distraught over one mother’s disappearance already so she makes a point to write all three whenever she’s on the surface with updates on where she is and where she will be. Chil still doesn’t tell her party shit except vague mentions of having to stay on top of family matters with no other context.

Laios is the only one that knows Chil has kids but assumes they are about the same age/ maturity as her daughter.

Senshi’s role doesn’t really change, she’s a kindly middle aged dwarven woman who lives in the dungeon eating monsters.

Falin and Marcille basically have the same general backstory too but are just men in this AU. Falin has been dungeoning to support his sister and niece and Marcille started tagging along for both research and Falin.

Izutsumi remains completely unchanged because I find that to be funnier. She’s not even genderbent. She’s just Izutsumi.

Pt. 2 (Name Guide)

Pt. 3 (Laios' timeline)

Pt. 4 (Chilchuck's timeline)