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saintobio · 8 months ago

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sincerely yours. (11)

↳ gojou satoru/reader

when a twist of fate led their marriage to the path of a quintessential tragic romance, two past lovers go through another series of experiences on love, heartbreak, identity, illness, and trauma along the road to a happily ever after.

genre. heavy angst, amnesia, modern au, 18+

tags/warnings. depression, cheating, trauma, implied suicide attempt, toxic relationships

notes. 12k wc. we're so close to the finale <3 thanks so much for the continued support and for the patience you guys have with this series :')

series masterlist -> episode twelve

For better and worse.

Weddings are funny things. Despite the strict adherence to ceremonial traditions, they didn’t guarantee a happily ever after. Exchanging vows and the signing of marriage certificates could become meaningless when a couple faces challenges that would drive them apart. Consider the high-profile divorces of Angelina Jolie and Brad Pitt, Jennifer Garner and Ben Affleck, or Katie Holmes and Tom Cruise. Divorce had become so common that it almost seemed inevitable for many couples, even the ones with the most fairytale-like relationships. No one was safe from the idea of a divorce. So, was having a wedding really that important? Would it really define the quality and longevity of a relationship?

Satoru might have been thinking bitterly about it, given that his own marriage wasn’t exactly a shining success. However, he was also being rational when he said that weddings weren’t necessary to prove your love for each other. Early in his marriage, he certainly wasn’t the best husband, but over time, he learned to genuinely become a good partner to his ex-wife. There was no specific time frame for loving someone. You could be together for weeks, months, or years, yet the depth of love you share might remain unchanged. This constancy can be either a blessing or a curse, depending on how deep your love was from the beginning.

Well… On the topic of marriages, Satoru had no good thing to say. But that didn’t mean he shouldn’t participate in it. Weddings were still considered a special celebration for families and close friends, and He would be selfish not to share in such a beautiful event with his best friends. Besides, wasn’t it always expected that Suguru and Shoko would end up marrying each other? They were lucky—fortunate because their marriage was built on a foundation of genuine love. In contrast, Satoru’s marriage began out of convenience, which ultimately led to all the terrible things that followed.

As the best man, Satoru strode confidently alongside Suguru down the aisle, both adorned in princely tuxedos, drawing the eyes of the guests as they followed their procession. There were teasing remarks, smiles all around, and even a comment from one of the groom’s female cousins about how handsome they both looked. Despite the gentle commotion, Satoru understood why Suguru remained nervous as they reached the end of the aisle. He comfortingly stood by his side, offered a reassuring pat on the back, silently communicating to his best friend that everything would be alright.

“Don’t tell me you’ll back out now,” Satoru jested, whispering in Suguru’s ear as they observed the guests entering in accordance with the processional order.

Suguru, with his once long hair now neatly trimmed and slicked back, cleared his throat in an attempt to appear less anxious. “What if she gets cold feet?”

Gojou couldn’t help but tease. “Shoko? You really think she’d have cold feet?” he chuckled. “She’d be the one dragging your ass back to this garden if you tried to run away.”

“Fair enough.”

Just the night before, they had checked into the Hoshinoya Fuji to celebrate Suguru's last night of freedom. While there was drinking involved, one of the groomsmen insisted it wouldn’t be a proper bachelor’s party without some female company. So, inevitably, there were women in the hotel room, one of whom even gave Suguru a lap dance even though he showed no interest whatsoever. It was amusing to Satoru, considering his best friend used to be the biggest casanova, and now he was a committed and loyal man who, not only was terrified out of his wits on his wedding day, but was also afraid that the one woman he loved might run away from him.

Such genuine, pure love.

As Satoru pondered, his gaze landed on Akemi, who was seated a couple of rows back among the other guests. She had just arrived, her hair tied elegantly in a low ponytail and her silky sage dress accentuating her womanly figure flawlessly. She was wearing the diamond Tiffany & Co. earrings he had gifted her, which made her stand out among the rest of the people in that garden. Their eyes also met at the perfect moment, her gaze sparkling upon seeing Satoru in his tuxedo. He offered her a smile, one that silently conveyed ‘I’ll be there with you later,’ and she immediately understood.

How fortunate was Satoru to have her? Perhaps the reason for her late appearance was because she had been looking after Sachiro back home, fulfilling the duties that his ex-wife should have been doing. She was truly a mother who stepped up, especially during a time when both he and his son felt most abandoned.

And what about you? Who knew if you would even attend the wedding? You were meant to be Ieiri’s maid-of-honor, yet you were conspicuously absent. Perhaps you were still in Monaco, enjoying your time playing house with Toji, making a wedding like this seem insignificant to you. You would have informed Miwa in advance and picked up Sachiro if you had returned to Tokyo, right? Suguru also hadn’t mentioned anything about your arrival at the accommodation, hinting that someone else would have to step in as Shoko's maid-of-honor.

But who would it be? Shoko’s cousin? One of her other female co-workers? Her high school friend?

“Look, mom! She’s beautiful~”

Satoru was rendered speechless, utterly captivated by the sight before him. His fingers tingled with anticipation, his heart raced in his chest, his feet felt rooted to the ground, and his eyes remained fixed on the next lady gracefully making her way down the aisle. He couldn’t quite pinpoint what struck him the most: was it the sight of you in a stunning light green dress, resembling an angel descended from the heavens, or was it the haunting reminder of his own wedding day, when you walked down the same aisle as his most beautiful bride?

His breath caught in his throat, his chest tightening with each step you took down the aisle. Satoru felt like a statue, frozen in place, unable to tear his gaze away from you. You had become the sole focus of his attention, the rest of the world fading into a blur around him. He couldn’t comprehend it. Why was it so effortless for him to let his guard down around you?

This woman, he thought. This woman is Sachiro’s mother. This was the same woman that carried his flesh and blood for nine months, now appearing as radiant as a freshly bloomed flower, as if untouched by the stresses of unexpected motherhood. What had transpired in Monaco to transform you into this vision of beauty?

“You’re drooling.” Suguru nudged him on the chest. “This isn’t your wedding. You had your chance.”

Yes, he was well aware. This wasn’t his wedding, and he needed to maintain composure. Yet, it felt as though he was being drawn inexorably towards the mesmerizing goddess before him. With each beat of his heart quickening, he struggled to remind himself: No, Satoru. She's nothing to you now.

And because he was lost in a trance, he remained oblivious to the bride’s entrance and even Suguru’s emotional reaction to seeing his bride. His attention was solely fixated on you as he stole glances your way whenever he could. It wasn’t until the exchanging of rings, when you two had to stand side by side to assist the bride and groom, that he snapped back to reality. With you so close yet seemingly distant, Satoru felt a pang of disappointment as you never returned his gaze. The whispers and side comments from the guests also added to his discomfort, making him acutely aware of the scrutiny placed upon the best man and maid-of-honor.

“Aren’t they divorced?”

“Yeah, their marriage was a wreck.”

“They’re bad luck. I hope they don’t pass it onto the couple.”

For the first time in a long time, Satoru was gripped by an unprecedented desire to retort, to refute the misconceptions surrounding his marriage. Yet, he knew it was futile. Engaging in a verbal sparring match with another guest would only ruin his best friends' special day. Moreover, he might risk causing unintentional hurt to Akemi by defending a marriage that had long ceased to exist. So, despite the internal turmoil, he remained silent, allowing the whispers to persist unchecked.

And, with that, the wedding ceremony ended. Shoko and Suguru were now declared husband and wife.

— —

The reception was a time for socializing, enjoying drinks and hors d’oeuvres, and congratulating the newlyweds. For Suguru and Shoko, this part of the celebration felt effortless and their energies were seamlessly complementing each other’s. Unlike arranged marriages, there was no sense of haste or coercion; theirs was a union born of genuine affection. You couldn’t help but feel foolish for ever entertaining the notion that this was merely a conventional wedding experience. Here, before your eyes, unfolded a true celebration of love between two people.

Did Satoru share the same sentiments? You wondered what thoughts raced through his mind during the proceedings. Did the event trigger memories of his own past, or stir feelings of longing for what could have been?

You refused to subject yourself to the torment of dwelling on your past. If anything, your time living alone in Monaco had been a crucial step in your healing journey. While the process was far from complete, that solitary retreat had provided a much-needed respite from the source of your stress. It afforded you the opportunity to contemplate the life you were destined to lead, albeit alone for the foreseeable future.

By allowing Sachiro to spend more time with his father, you not only facilitated the rebuilding of their fractured relationship, but also acclimated your child to your absence. It was a necessary adjustment, one that would prepare him for the reality of your impending solitary existence. At least, Sachiro had a chance to live in a loving household with Satoru and Akemi, instead of a miserable and lonely way of living together with you.

In the end, it was all for your child.

As for the potential emotional minefield of attending this wedding, you were there for Shoko, who had always been a steadfast and understanding presence in your life. Her genuine friendship meant more to you than mere familial bonds ever could. Even at the risk of stirring up unhealthy emotions by being in a room full of people who hurt you, you couldn’t bear to disappoint Ieiri.

Admittedly though, navigating the wedding crowd was a delicate balance of warmth and formality. Ieiri’s side of the family, who were doctors heavily acquainted with your family, greeted you with genuine warmth. While Suguru’s relatives, who were more closely tied to the Gojou family, maintained a polite distance. Although there were occasional moments of discomfort, you knew how to maintain composure throughout.

As for Toji’s absence, while a part of you wished he could have been there as a supportive presence, you also recognized the value in learning to handle situations involving your ex-husband independently. He had an unavoidable business trip, but that also provided an opportunity for you to stop relying on him and navigate such occasions like these on your own. He was nothing more than a friend now.

While that ex-husband, Satoru, was here with your best friend. It didn’t surprise you that he had brought Akemi as a plus one. In fact, you had expected it to happen. It just wasn’t the best feeling to be the maid-of-honor when the best man clearly had another lady for it in mind.

It was quite amusing, too. Not once had Akemi approached you during the reception. You understood that she wanted to keep her distance, but you found it disrespectful that she was ignoring your existence. Was she scared to talk to you? Scared of what you had to say? You had heard over a million hurtful things from other people, yet she was afraid to hear a few pieces of advice from you?

Forget it. Forget her and Satoru. Focus on the reception, Y/N.

But really, how could you? As the moment arrived for the newlyweds’ first dance, tradition dictated that the best man and maid-of-honor should also take to the floor. You sensed the tension in the air as Satoru hesitated, surrounded by urging groomsmen, deciding whether or not he should ask you for a dance. He looked like he was battling with what was right and wrong in his mind, yet ultimately he chose to pass by you, extending his hand to Akemi instead.

It wasn’t feelings of shame that slapped you to reality. It was seeing Satoru holding Akemi’s hand, another on her waist, as they slowly danced to Can’t Help Falling In Love, a song that was played on your wedding day.

Take my hand

Take my whole life too

Oh, for I can’t help

Falling in love with you

It shouldn’t hurt anymore. You were doing better. You were doing so good, you were doing… you were okay. You should be okay. Or did you overestimate your emotions a little too much? Because this, seeing the man you loved with all your heart holding another woman in his arms, was tortuous to your soul. You could feel the pains of your past tugging at your heart, wondering why he never danced like that with you on your wedding day? Why he never stared at you like you were the most beautiful girl in the world, why he never showed you off in a room full of curious people, why he never respected you enough to treat you with such… with such love.

“Everything okay?”

You didn’t expect Nanami, out of all people, to be offering you a handkerchief. You hadn’t even realized that your eyes were already pooling of the tears if he had not cut you out of trance, offering a comforting and sympathetic smile. You had to blink multiple times just to push your tears back in.

“Yeah,” you answered with a grateful expression. I’m strong. I’ll be fine. “Thank you.”

Nanami took that as a sign to offer his hand. “Care for a dance, then?”

Wiping your eyes, you nodded, smiling at the man. “Why not?”

After the dance, the reception continued as follows. The cake cutting, the dinner service, then the toasts and speeches. If it wasn’t for Nanami, you wouldn’t have been able to pick yourself back up after the humiliation of seeing Satoru and Akemi dancing together. You just needed a decent amount of air to breathe and gather yourself together again. It was a nice help from someone who wasn’t a personal acquaintance of yours, that despite being Satoru’s right hand man in the company, Nanami still had some kindness in him that you would forever be thankful for.

And when it was time for you to do your speech as the MOH, you didn’t let a single vulnerable emotion slip out of you. For that short moment, you tried not to think about who was in the audience, about what they thought of you, and about what other preconceived notions they had of you. You focused on the newlyweds as you stood in front of the mic stand, eye-to-eye with Shoko and Suguru, who were holding each other’s hands.

“Shoko,” you began, smiling genuinely at the couple, “Through the laughter and tears, you’ve been my constant, my confidante, my rock. And today, as I watch you embark on this new chapter of your life, I’m honestly a bit overwhelmed with emotion.”

The bride returned your smile, and you can tell Shoko was holding back tears of her own as she glanced between you and Satoru.

You continued your speech, observing Suguru’s supportive gesture towards his wife as you spoke. “Shoko, I recall our late-night conversations, the tears shed over broken marriages, and the pain of shattered relationships. Yet, through it all, you’ve remained steadfast in your belief in love, in hope, in the possibility of a happily ever after.” Turning to Suguru, although he still had that lingering discomfort around you, you offered him nothing but heartfelt words. “As I look at you and Suguru, I’m reminded that true love exists—a love that is patient, kind, and enduring. My wish for you both is a lifetime filled with laughter, joy, and unwavering support for each other. May you cherish each other’s hearts, protect each other’s dreams, and weather life’s storms together, stronger in your love. Suguru, during your challenging days as a married couple, I pray that you always look at Shoko and remember why you love her. I pray that you will always have the capacity to cherish and respect her as your wife and the future mother of your children. May you keep her in your heart, no matter what challenges may come your way.”

As tears welled in Ieiri’s eyes, your voice faltered, the magnitude of your wishes for their marriage weighing heavily on your own unfulfilled desires. You weren’t trying to make this about you, and you hoped they thought that, too.

“As I raise my glass to toast this beautiful union,” you said, raising the champagne glass on your hand, “I do so with a heart full of love and a silent prayer—that your love story will be one of triumph, of healing, and of endless happiness. Congratulations, Shoko and Suguru!”

— —

Satoru was deeply affected by your speech. Both in good and bad ways. On one hand, he was touched by the sincerity of your words and the genuine wishes you extended to the newlywed couple. On the other hand, he couldn’t shake off the pang of guilt and remorse that accompanied your words, knowing all too well the history behind them. When you expressed your hopes for Suguru to always cherish and respect Shoko, Satoru couldn’t help but reflect on his own behavior during your marriage and the ways in which he may have fallen short.

Each action he did definitely had a lasting impact on you.

But what about the good ones? Had you forgotten about the times he treated you well? Had you forgotten the lengths he took just to prove to you that he was a changed man? That at one point in his life, he would do everything in him just to show you how much he loved you?

It was unfair. Why did you only ever look at the bad things he did and never the good ones? Why did you still see him as a villain in your marriage when he knew he had paid his dues after he lost you?

It was truly, honestly unfair, that you get to be happy with Toji, but he ought to feel guilty for being with Akemi.

“I think they’re about to do the bouquet and garter toss,” spoke Akemi, tugging at Satoru’s arm while they sat on their designated table. She held a napkin on her other hand to wipe her partner’s chin, smiling in excitement. “You should go and join.”

Where were you? After your speech, Satoru couldn’t seem to find you anymore. Where had you gone off to? Did you leave already?

“Y-Yeah,” Satoru answered, looking around the venue before turning to Akemi. “What about you? Won’t you join the bouquet toss thing?”

She shook her head, hesitantly. “Isn’t it only for bridesmaids?”

He grabbed her hand and urged her up. “No, it’s for all unmarried female guests. Come on.”

The reason Satoru dragged her along was because Akemi loved weddings, and she especially enjoyed the traditions that came with it. She herself once dreamt about the picture perfect wedding, but never got to fully have her own, so attending such occasions made up for the lack of personally experiencing it.

Gojou couldn’t exactly remember if he did the garter toss in his own wedding. If so, who had caught it? Who had caught your bouquet? His eyes swept across the entire venue once more, searching for your familiar figure among the guests. He was too occupied to realize that Shoko had already tossed her bouquet, and the frenzy of eager ladies ensued until it landed in Akemi’s hands.

He genuinely felt happy for Akemi. The joy in her eyes upon catching Shoko’s bouquet was unmistakable. Yet, as the playful teasing about a potential wedding for him shifted in his direction, Satoru couldn’t help but feel a twinge of pressure. It wasn’t supposed to weigh on him like this. It was too soon to have that expectation of him.

“Looks like someone’s getting married next!”

And while he was feeling suffocated from the pressure placed upon him, the receiver of the tossed garter happened to have been Nanami.

Immediately, the teasing ensued, with the other guests urging Nanami to wear the garter on Akemi’s leg. Out of respect, Nanami looked at Gojou for permission, but honestly? He was just grateful he didn’t have to do all that and be pressured about another wedding that he had not yet thought about. Fuck it, thank God Nanami had caught the garter because Satoru was sure as hell starting to feel uneasy there.

“Go for it,” was the only thing Satoru said to Nanami, gesturing his chin at Akemi’s direction.

While everyone was focused on the situation between Nanami and Akemi, Satoru took that opportunity to escape from the crowd and find his peace at the balcony. He hastily made his way out of the reception hall, feeling a sense of relief as he could finally breathe.

And there you were, standing alone, lost in contemplation, and your gaze fixed upon the tranquil expanse of the lakeside. The chill breeze caressed your hair softly, as if mirroring the calm that enveloped your countenance. In another universe, this would have been an opportune moment to hug you from behind, sharing the warmth of his embrace around your figure. But he was living in a universe where you and him weren’t meant to be together.

In fact, you were probably thinking about another man as you stared at the lake, hoping that he was there with you.

“Did you have fun in Monaco with Toji?” Satoru was crazy for going straight to the point, and he knew it was a blunt inquiry, bordering on intrusive, but it tumbled out nonetheless, revealing the thoughts that had been plaguing in his mind. His words spilled out before he could rein them in, a question born of curiosity and perhaps a touch of jealousy.

As for you, with your peace in the balcony now ruined, you briefly opened your mouth to respond, but held back against it as you met Gojou’s eyes with a distant stare. You were even quick to look away and sigh, like he was not worth the conversation. You had not spoken a word to him since the wedding ceremony and you were definitely going to keep doing it.

And man, did that hurt his ego.

So, for a very stupid reason, he felt the need to hurt yours in return. “Do you know Sachi calls Akemi ‘mama’ in his sleep?”

Your eyes remained empty. “Good for you, then. You won’t have a hard time getting him accustomed to it.”

“Y/N.” Satoru’s voice came out as a warning, and he was about to start an argument on why you were abandoning him and Sachi over Toji, but he was interrupted at the appearance of Akemi carrying Shoko’s bouquet as she tried to search for her lover. This meant that the conversation with the ex-wife was over.

But as he glanced between you and Akemi, his bitter past and his sweet present, why did Satoru’s heart still lingered with you when it shouldn’t?

“You should go,” you briefly muttered, walking in the opposite direction, “Your future wife’s looking for you.”

Satoru’s sudden grip on your wrist halted your steps abruptly. His voice carried a bitter edge as he reminded you of the agreement you had made. “Y/N, we agreed to co-parent Sachiro properly. Why are you choosing Toji over your own son?”

The accusation left a tense atmosphere, eliciting a sharp response from you as you yanked your hand away, a flash of anger igniting in your eyes. “You have no idea what you're talking about, Satoru.”

— —

“Welcome to Hoshinoya Fuji, Ms. L/N!”

You stepped out of the car, taking in the serene beauty of the lakeside cabin that would be your sanctuary for the next three days and two nights. Nestled among towering pines and sturdy oaks, the cabin exuded a rustic charm that blended seamlessly with the natural landscape. Its weathered wooden exterior, adorned with a green tin roof, seemed to have grown organically from the earth itself.

The cabin sat on a gentle slope that led directly to the water’s edge. A wooden deck wrapped around the front, offering a perfect vantage point for gazing out over the tranquil lake. Your room also had the best view of Mount Fuji, which you thought was the highlight of this luxurious accommodation.

After the newlywed send-off, you were quickly ushered in by Shoko and Suguru’s staff, who were in charge of attending to the special guests staying a few extra days at the cabin. Though the couple wouldn’t start their proper honeymoon until their 6-month long cruise trip in two weeks, they wanted their guests to enjoy the accommodations they had arranged. You were relieved to hear that, despite Satoru and Akemi also being among the friends staying, each guest had their own private cabin reserved.

The thing was, you could leave any time if you wanted to. Shoko also reassured you that it would be okay and that she would understand if you wanted to go home right away. She knew that the situation may be uncomfortable for you, and that she felt bad you even had to deal with it during the ceremony, but you made a promise to her. You were her maid-of-honor for a reason, and part of your duty was to help with the post-ceremony tasks to ensure that Shoko can focus on enjoying her pre and post-wedding activities.

So, in some ways, you felt obliged to stay. You didn’t need to interact much with others during your stay, anyway. You were content staying in your room, perhaps taking some occasional walks outside. Satoru could do whatever he wanted with Akemi; you were determined to avoid crossing their paths.

Besides, inside the cabin was a cozy retreat. The main living area featured large windows that framed the picturesque view, allowing moonlight to spill in and illuminate the space. A stone fireplace, complete with a rustic mantel adorned with pinecones and candles, stood as the centerpiece of the room. Plush armchairs and a worn leather sofa invited relaxation, while a handwoven rug added a touch of warmth and color.

As you moved towards the bedroom, you found a comfortable queen-sized bed covered in a soft, plaid quilt. The scent of pine mingled with the faint aroma of fresh linens, creating an atmosphere of peaceful haven. An old-fashioned dresser and a bedside table, topped with a simple lamp, completed the room. The windows here, too, offered a glimpse of the sparkling lake, ensuring that the beauty of nature would greet you each morning.

Stepping outside, you walked down a short path to the water’s edge, where a small wooden dock extended into the lake. A pair of Adirondack chairs sat invitingly at the end of the dock, perfect for soaking in the sunset or stargazing at night. Nearby, a fire pit surrounded by stones and logs as seating promised cozy evenings under the stars, with the gentle sound of lapping water providing a soothing backdrop.

On your first night there, you ended up falling asleep right away. The physical and emotional exhaustion, combined with jetlag, knocked you out. However, the next day promised a few tasks to complete the post-wedding cleanup.

The second night, however, was a different story.

When you returned to the cabin, the cool evening air was crisp against your skin. The temperature went down a couple of celsius compared to yesterday, so as you walked down the path toward the lakeside, you were drawn to the flickering glow of a fire pit illuminating the area near the water’s edge. Drawing closer, the soft sounds of laughter and conversation reached your ears, mingling with the gentle crackle of burning logs.

The fire pit was surrounded by a group, their faces lit by the warm, golden light of the flames. They sat on a circle of logs and foldable chairs, leaning in to feel the comforting heat. Some held mugs of steaming cocoa, while others toasted marshmallows on long sticks, their tips glowing bright orange before transforming into gooey, sugary treats.

You paused for a moment and took in the scene. Was it a safe space for you to be in? You noticed familiar faces among the group—some of the couple’s old friends from the wedding, now relaxed and enjoying the peaceful night. One of the guests strummed a guitar softly, the melody adding to the cozy, inviting atmosphere. Another guest told a story, their animated expressions and gestures causing bursts of laughter from the listeners.

There was no sight of Satoru and Akemi. Perhaps, it might be okay to join in.

As you approached, Suguru emerged from a nearby cabin, smiling in a way that felt unusual. Why was he being friendly all of a sudden? Last time you checked, he still held a grudge against you. But now, he showed no signs of antagonism, and was even approaching you with his usual friendly demeanor.

“Y/N,” he said, the fog of his breath visible in the cold air, “I never got to thank you properly for helping us with everything here. I didn’t think you’d make it last minute.”

You wrapped your shawl tighter around yourself to ward off the chill. “It’s no trouble. I’m glad to help out and be here for you guys,” you replied warmly. And while glancing around, you noticed the absence of Shoko. “Where’s the missus?”

Suguru’s smile took on a mischievous edge. “Sleeping. She’s still pretty tired and…”

You interrupted him with a laugh, catching onto his suggestive tone. “Alright, you two. You’re wild.”

His grin softened into a sincere expression. “No, seriously. I never got to properly thank you. I never got to apologize to you either.” Suguru looked down with guilt. “I’m sorry for being an asshole to you. I was focusing too much on Satoru’s point-of-view, dismissing how it must be like to be in your position amidst all that mess. Shoko helped me understand why you made certain decisions, why you had no other option. She helped me see things from your perspective, to realize the extent of your suffering. We all knew that, I guess. We all knew you were constantly dealt a bad hand, yet you remain kind and resilient. You continue to show empathy to others, even when the world hasn’t been fair to you.”

In the ensuing silence, your heart seemed to thunder in your chest. His words carried weight far beyond what he might have intended, and you genuinely appreciated his apology. Even if he didn’t need to say them.

“I guess what I’m trying to say is, you’re a gem, Y/N.” Suguru gave your back a gentle pat. “You deserve to be happy in your own special way. And just like how you wished us well with our marriage, I hope you’ll find your own path to a happy marriage, too.”

“Thank you,” you mumbled, looking down with a forlorn smile.

“We’re here for you, okay?” he offered, “Shoko and I. You can count on us if you need us, if you need help with Sachiro, if you need help with life in general.”

“I appreciate it, really.”

And by then, he cleared his throat, opening up a topic that caught you off guard. You didn’t expect it from Suguru out of all people. “Y/N, I know why you were in Monaco.”

Of course. He’d know it from Shoko.

“I also know,” he continued, dark narrow eyes staring straight at yours, “why you left Sachiro with his father.”

You were a deer caught in the headlights. You wouldn’t say it felt invasive to have someone be aware of the reasoning behind your personal decisions, but it was just an altogether different feeling to know that it was your ex-husband’s best friend who knew.

“Why didn’t you tell him?” he asked, referring to Satoru, “That you broke up with Toji?”

You took a deep breath. “I don’t see the point of telling him.”

“What if I were to tell you that he’d come running desperately to you the moment he finds out?” he posed another burning question. “You still love him, right? You and him would likely get together without much difficulty if he were aware. So, why hesitate?”

“Because I don’t want that,” you answered, feeling words caught in your throat in a moment of vulnerability. “Because I’m scared to get back with him. Because he has Akemi now. Because I don’t wanna keep ruining the lives of the people around me. We’re better off this way, Suguru. I don’t want to mess up the second time around, and I definitely don’t think Satoru would be able to fully move on with his life with me still in the picture. He seems to be happy with Akemi already.”

Suguru smiled sadly. “You don’t even wanna get your revenge? Don’t wanna get back at your best friend for dating your ex?” he paused to correct himself, “Well, dating is the wrong term. Satoru insists they’re not exclusive, you know?”

You shook your head, sighing. Satoru, you haven’t changed. “It doesn’t matter. I’m fine with the way things are.”

He was on the verge of continuing, poised to persuade further, but the arrival of the very individuals in question brought an abrupt halt to his words. Descending the cabin steps was Shoko, trailed by Satoru, who, in a gesture of warmth, had draped his jacket around Akemi, with his arms encircling her.

All five of you found yourselves in an awkward situation, now faced with two couples, one of which was at the core of your distress. The tension was palpable, and it didn’t help that Satoru’s vivid blue eyes met yours, seemingly trying to decode the conversation between you and Suguru. That was none of his business. He could continue his affectionate display with Akemi, while you had other matters to attend to than be part of an awkward quintet.

“I should go,” you declared, avoiding eye contact with everyone, unwilling to play the fifth wheel. You were hoping to evade Satoru and Akemi’s presence, but both Shoko and Suguru already caught your arm.

“Y/N, please,” Shoko urged, her arm reaching out to you. “Don't isolate yourself tonight. Come join us.”

The memory of Bora Bora flooded your mind, a painful reminder of a similar situation when Shoko had extended the same invitation, leading to the discomfort of witnessing Sera’s closeness with Satoru. You knew that wasn’t Shoko’s intention, but it was your ex-husband who couldn’t stop catching himself in these situations.

This was a bad idea. You knew that.

So, why did you agree?

Despite your reservations, curiosity got the best of you. You would vehemently deny it if asked, but deep down, you pondered whether Suguru’s words held any truth about Satoru’s lingering feelings for you. It wasn’t out of pettiness, but rather a desire to confirm if Satoru was truly committed to Akemi. You knew this could potentially hurt you, but after enduring so much pain, you couldn’t imagine anything worse.

“Hey, you guys!”

“It’s nice of you to join us!”

“What’s up newlyweds?”

Upon joining the group at the fireplace, you were partly grateful that you weren’t exactly a fifth wheel in the situation. There were about ten or twelve people in total, with the earlier group still remaining in their seats. It just so happened that you were seated right across your ex-husband, who was too busy trying to keep Akemi warm and cozy.

“So, Y/N…” spoke a man from the group, who appeared to be Suguru’s colleague. “Are you single?”

The unexpected question caught you off guard, especially the tension it seemed to create, particularly with Satoru who sat stiffly next to Akemi. Even Shoko and Suguru seemed apologetic for their friend’s behavior, but you brushed it off, recognizing that he had probably indulged a bit too much with beer. He was harmless enough when sober.

“Don’t be asking questions like that,” Suguru intervened, tapping the back of his friend’s head in a playful scold. “That’s rude.”

The friend protested, still oblivious to the discomfort he had caused. “I was just asking! She’s attractive. I have the right to know.”

You forced a smile, accepting the can of beer he had offered. “Thanks, but I—”

“Even if she’s single, she’s not interested in you,” Shoko chimed in, keeping a casual mien. She had to keep things cool, especially with an explosive Gojou around. You were just thankful that she didn’t exactly reveal the status of your relationship with Toji, and that she was doing her best to divert the attention away from you.

In this little scene, you caught a glimpse of Akemi tugging at Satoru’s arm, like she was uncomfortable with the conversation. Why? Did it trigger an insecurity within her? She couldn’t even return eye-contact, constantly avoiding your eyes and reacting to any conversation remotely related to you. But Satoru was there acting like a concerned boyfriend, whispering reassurance into her ear, and rubbing her knee in a comforting fashion.

“You two make a lovely couple,” remarked one of the girls, directing her compliment to Satoru and Akemi.“Weren’t you the girl who caught the bouquet? Looks like there might be another wedding on the horizon.”

“Oooh!”

“They’re an attractive couple, too.”

“You guys planning for any children?”

Just like Bora Bora. A bitter smile lingered on your face, but you decided not to look at Satoru anymore. He must be enjoying this.

Shoko leaned in and placed an arm around you to whisper her apologies. “I’m sorry, Y/N. This was a bad idea.”

“It’s okay,” you assured, not wanting to ruin the moment. “I’ll leave after I finish my beer so it won’t be awkward.”

As the night wore on, conversation flowed easily at first, with everyone exchanging stories and laughter, and eventually more beers and liquor were passed around. Shoko and Suguru were lost in the glow of newlywed bliss, while you found yourself increasingly uneasy as memories of the past mingled with the present.

Satoru’s presence beside Akemi was a constant reminder of your failed marriage, and you struggled to suppress the weakness in your chest that threatened to surface. They held hands and watched the fire together, her head resting on his shoulder, his lips on top of her head. She was trying to voice out a specific concern to him, and he was sweetly listening to her. Did they even realize the ex-wife was in the same area with them? It was insensitive. You never knew Satoru could be this insensitive around you, no matter what his reasons were, his romantic gestures towards her was a clear slap to your face. And he succeeded, because you would be foolish not to admit that it broke your heart in half to witness him choosing another woman over you.

Again, Satoru. Here we go again. You tried to stop the pounding on your chest. Here we fucking are the second time around.

Desperate to ease the tension, Shoko and Suguru attempted to steer the conversation toward lighter topics, but their efforts only served to highlight the underlying tension in the air. You forced a smile and nodded along with the conversation, but inside, your heart was heavy with unresolved emotions.

And then someone had to bring up that stupid truth or dare game.

“Satoru-kun, I dare you to kiss the prettiest woman in this group.”

“Whoo! Do it! Do it! Do it!”

Satoru was initially hesitant as he clearly found himself at a crossroads. He had two options here. Should he risk hurting Akemi by refusing to kiss her? Or should he risk hurting you by kissing another woman in front of you?

The clear winner was Akemi, because as soon as Gojou pressed his lips onto hers, you were already walking out of there. You had already excused yourself from the group, your footsteps as heavy as your heart. And unbeknownst to you, Satoru watched you go with a flicker of remorse in his eyes, but it was too late for apologies or second chances. The fire continued to crackle and pop as you left, its flames casting long shadows across the empty space where you had sat.

It was game over. Satoru had won his game.

— —

Satoru was puzzled by your behavior since the wedding. You seemed determined to avoid him, which made sense with Akemi constantly by his side, but there was also an air of desperation to your avoidance. What baffled him even more was the jealousy you exhibited, as if you weren’t involved with another man, to the point where you even flew to another country just to spend more time with him.

Like you said, you two were no longer married. It was about time you moved on. Yet, how come you were acting heartbroken over seeing Satoru with another woman?

Did you really think leaving the fire pit so abruptly had gone unnoticed?

Did you really think he had taken his eyes off you?

If not for Akemi telling him that she was having pelvic cramps, Gojou would have run off to follow you the minute you left the fire pit. Clearly, you still had an issue seeing him with another girl and he wanted you to voice it out. But if there was anything he learned during your time together, you would never be the first one to admit that you were jealous. Heck, didn’t you even allow him to bring Sera to Bora Bora that one time?

Look, he didn’t want to hurt you all over again. And if you had walked up to him and called him an asshole for having Akemi around, he would even agree with you. But it was your decision to choose Toji, it was your request for Satoru to find someone else, so why did it seem like you were suddenly changing your mind?

“I’m sorry for being a party pooper,” Akemi groaned in discomfort as Gojou helped her back to their cabin. He quickly refocused on their conversation, reminding himself not to dwell on thoughts of you when Akemi needed his attention—it wouldn’t be fair to her. She was suffering from a terrible illness that he wouldn’t wish upon anyone and he had to be her rock. “It’s been hurting quite a bit lately. I really should start with my treatment.”

Once inside their room, he swiftly settled her into bed. “Where does it hurt?” He applied a gentle touch to her pelvic bone, massaging the area to alleviate her discomfort. “Here?”

“Mhm. Thank you,” she lightly spoke, her soft hand caressing his cheek. “I’ll be fine.”

“You look really pale, though. I’m worried,” he remarked, sympathizing with her. Her complexion betrayed the pain she was holding back, though she likely hesitated to admit she wanted to go home and rest. “Do you wanna go home? Even if it’s in the middle of the night, I can have my driver pick us up.”

She shook her head quickly. “No, no. Please, I'll be fine. You won't get to see Shoko and Suguru for a while once they’re on their honeymoon, so I want you to spend time with them here.”

“You sure? But you always come first.”

“I’ll be okay.”

As Satoru continued to massage the area where Akemi felt pain, his thoughts inevitably drifted to you. He recalled the time when you were pregnant with Sachiro, experiencing frequent lower abdominal pain as your body adjusted to the baby. Each night, Satoru stayed up, gently rubbing your belly until you drifted off to sleep. It was one of his happiest memories during your marriage—the domestic bliss of being your husband and the memory of him caring for his wife. He wasn’t sure if he was missing it, or if he was just recalling a past memory, but looking at Akemi, Satoru wondered if he was prepared to have all that again but with another woman.

He couldn’t give himself an answer.

“I’m such a terrible person.”

He should be telling himself that, but it was Akemi who said those words out loud as her brown doe-eyes stared at him solemnly, an expression that reflected guilt and remorse in equal measure.

“How come?” Satoru’s voice was barely above a whisper as he asked, gently tucking the sheets around her while perching on the edge of the bed.

Her smile held a touch of sorrow, yet there was a glimmer of relief in her eyes. “I feel like I’ve failed Y/N. She treated me like family, like a sister, and now I can’t even face her properly. I’m just terrified, you know? I don’t want to keep letting her down. I never meant to cause her pain.”

For a moment, Gojou fell silent at her admission. “It’s all my fault. You two never would have been in this position if it wasn’t for me.”

“Absolutely not,” Akemi persisted before leaning in to plant a tender kiss on his cheek. “Tonight, you’ve shown me that you’ve truly moved on from her. I was starting to worry, afraid that I could never fill the space she held in your heart. But since the wedding, you’ve never sidelined me or made me feel like an afterthought. You’ve never made me feel like second best. You’ve always prioritized me. I understand it’s hard seeing your ex-wife, but I appreciate your efforts more than you know. You make me feel incredibly special.”

Satoru swallowed hard. The mention of your name sent a pang of guilt coursing through his chest. He knew he had hurt Akemi with his lingering attachment to his past and his inability to fully let go of the woman who had once held his heart in her hands. He wanted to agree with Akemi, to reassure her that he had chosen her, but the truth remained elusive, buried beneath layers of denial and self-deception. He even had to close his eyes for a minute, unable to meet her gaze as a tumult of conflicting emotions swirled within him. He wanted to tell her the truth, to confess the depth of his feelings for his ex-wife, but the words were caught in his throat.

In that moment, Satoru felt more lost and alone than ever before, trapped in a web of his own making, and unable to confront the truth behind his true feelings. Moved on? Had he truly moved on from you, or had he simply buried his feelings beneath a facade of indifference?

“You should rest your eyes,” was the only thing he could tell her, planting a kiss on her forehead before he had turned off the lights.

With the clock ticking past 11 o’clock and their recent conversation still echoing in his mind, Satoru felt an urgent need for clarity. He knew he had to confront his thoughts alone. So, without disturbing Akemi’s peaceful slumber, he quietly slipped out of the cabin, seeking solace in the night air. Immediately, as he got out, he was met with the apologetic eyes of his best friend.

“Hey,” Satoru greeted, confused by the urgency in Suguru’s expression. “What’s up?”

Suguru took a deep breath before he rubbed the back of his head. “There’s something I ought to tell you.”

— —

You had been standing at the edge of the lake for a while now, the cool night air sending shivers down your spine as you gazed out at the shimmering expanse of water before you. The moon hung low in the sky, casting a silvery glow over the tranquil scene, its soft light dancing on the surface of the lake like a thousand tiny stars.

The temptation to dive into the dark waters below tugged at your heart like a siren’s song, beckoning you to leave behind the pain and sorrow that had plagued you for so long. You longed to feel the icy embrace of the lake envelop you, to lose yourself in its depths and wash away the memories that haunted you every waking moment.

Is this how it feels like to finally let go?

As you stood on the shore, your toes just inches from the water’s edge, a wave of despair then washed over you, threatening to pull you under like the undertow of a riptide. You thought of Sachiro, your sweet, innocent son, asleep in his bed back in Tokyo, his laughter and smiles serving as an antidote to the pain in your heart.

And then him…

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes as you thought of Satoru. Despite the pain he had caused you, it was impossible not to yearn for him still, because his memory was a ghost that haunted you in every waking moment. But you knew that you couldn’t continue to live in the shadow of your past marriage. You had to escape being trapped in a cycle of longing and regret. You owed it to Sachiro to be strong, to find the courage to let go of the man who had once been your everything.

With your empty gaze, the calm lake shimmered in the moonlight like a blanket of liquid silver. You had come to the lake seeking solace, seeking escape from the unbearable pain that gnawed at your heart like a relentless tide. But as tears left your eyes, your emotions threatened to drown you in a sea of despair.

Without hesitation, you dropped your shawl to the side, shedding yourself off of the cloth with a sense of reckless abandon. The fright of swimming in open water, especially at night, could have you passed out in a matter of seconds, but you paid it no mind as you waded into the water.

Is this how it feels to finally give up?

The lake embraced you like an old friend, enfolding you in its cool embrace as you swam out into the darkness. Each stroke brought you closer to the center of the lake, closer to the heart of your pain, and yet you felt strangely at peace, as if the water itself held the key to your salvation. You took time floating on your back, staring up at the stars that glittered like diamonds in the night sky, you felt a sense of clarity wash over you. You knew that your love for Satoru was a burden you could no longer bear.

But more than that, you knew that you couldn’t let your own pain dictate the course of your son’s life. Sachiro deserved better than a mother consumed by sorrow, better than a life overshadowed by the ghosts of the past.

With a deep breath, you let go of the pain that had held you captive for so long. You submerged yourself into the depths of the lake, watching as the night sky vanished beneath the surface like a wisp of smoke in the wind.

In that moment, you felt a sense of freedom unlike anything you had ever known. You just had to stay still. You had to keep yourself underwater, hold your breath until you no longer needed it, and…

And…

You struggled to breathe, your mind consumed in panic telling you that you would die if you had kept yourself submerged for another minute, but you were adamant on staying there. You fought battles in your own mind, despite your body fighting back to keep you alive.

At least soon, you would finally meet your mom again.

“...”

“......”

“....Y/N!”

“.......Y/N!”

Feeling your vision blur and your limbs growing limp, you surrendered to the natural sway of the water. Bubbles escaped from your nose, your mouth tightly sealed shut. And the next thing you knew, you were back on the water surface, drawing breath like a fish out of the water. You could feel someone tugging at your arm, could feel the presence of another person dragging you out of the water, his arms pulling you into an embrace.

“Y/N! What the hell are you thinking?!”

You sobbed uncontrollably, your heartache pouring out as Satoru cradled you in his arms, his white hair damp from his efforts to rescue you from the water. How and when did he arrive? Your mind couldn’t process the details amidst the turmoil. All you could do was surrender to the flood of tears, feeling paralyzed from head to toe as you cried into his embrace.

Is this another dream?

Is this another hallucination?

You released a bitter laugh. Please. You closed your eyes, laughing and crying like a mad person. Please stop the pain.

“Y/N, please,” his whispers were tender, yet tinged with a sorrow that amplified your heartache. “What about Sachiro?” He, too, shed his own tears, his ocean-blue eyes shimmering in the moonlight as they filled with tears, his voice breaking. “What about me?”

Your face was pressed against his chest, anguish coursing through you, feeling as if your very soul was being torn asunder. “Th-That’s the... the same thing... I’ve been asking myself,” you managed between sobs, struggling to draw a steady breath. “I’m... I’m always th-thinking about other people... and never myself.”

He fell silent, his response lost in the weight of your words, perhaps laden with guilt or his own sorrow. But his presence there, holding you close, as if he still harbored love for you, tore another piece from your already battered heart. He shouldn’t be here. He should have been with Akemi. He should be anywhere but near you. With a surge of adrenaline, you began to push him away, propelling yourself through the water, racing toward the shore despite the weakness in your limbs. Satoru called out your name, his voice a desperate plea, as he followed after you, his movements slower but filled with urgency.

“Stop!” Your voice rose, echoing against the night as you stood on the shore, water cascading from your body in sync with the tears streaming down your face. “L-Leave me alone... Please. Why are you here?”

You knew Satoru well enough to understand what had driven him to chase after you. Perhaps he had grown concerned, either from noticing your absence or from someone informing him of your uncharacteristic nighttime swim. His actions were undoubtedly unusual; he knew all too well of your fear of open water, prompting him to leap into action to rescue you.

But you didn’t need him to be here. You didn’t need him anywhere. He wasn’t yours anymore.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked, his voice carrying the weight of confusion and concern, his steps cautious as he approached you. He looked at you with tears in his eyes, his expression vulnerable and pleading, like a child seeking comfort, desperately hoping to be understood, to be heard. “You’re not with Toji anymore.”

“Why should I?” You struggled to compose yourself, wiping away the tears that blurred your vision. “It doesn’t matter—”

“It fucking matters, Y/N!”

“It shouldn’t matter!” Your voice cracked with emotion, your heart pounding painfully against your ribs. “Why should it matter, huh?”

“Because I love you!” His words echoed through the night, raw with emotion that had never been confronted until now. “Because I can’t fucking get over you. Because I’m a fool for you!”

You pushed him away, a surge of anger and hurt rising within you. “H-How dare you,” you choked out, your fists trembling as you struck his chest. “How dare you say that to me when you’re with someone else! You n-never truly loved me, Satoru. Y-You never did!”

“You wanted me to find someone new, Y/N,” his voice cracked with emotion, pained by his own words, “I just did what you asked me to do, even if that wasn’t what I truly wanted.”

You vehemently denied his assertion in your mind, shaking your head in refusal. “Stop saying that. Just stop. Please.”

He already had his grip on your hand, pulling you closer. “Y/N—”

You jerked your hand away sharply, but then a wave of despair washed over you. “Every time I see you with her, I convince myself that I’m fine with it, that this is what I wanted, what I chose.” Tears welled up in your eyes as you recalled every heartbreak. “I tell myself that I deserve it, that you deserve to be with someone who can make you happier. But then I remember our past…” You paused, closing your eyes to stem the tears. “And then I compare it to your relationship with her now. I can’t help but wonder, why didn’t I receive that kind of love and respect from the beginning? Why did it take me nearly drowning in an ocean for you to realize and try to make things right three years ago?”

His grip on your hand tightened, as if he wanted to hold onto you and never let go, as if he wanted to reassure you with his touch that he was there, listening, understanding, feeling every word you uttered.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice barely audible amidst the crashing waves and the heavy weight of your emotions. “I’m sorry for everything I did wrong, for every moment I failed to show you the love and respect you deserved, Y/N.”

You hated it. You hated hearing his words now, because it was three years all too late. You had already gone through so much suffering, so much anguish that you didn’t deserve, just because you wanted a happy marriage. Just because you wanted to love and be loved. By him. By the person you married.

“It d-doesn’t change anything,” you murmured, your voice breaking with sorrow. “I can’t undo the pain, the heartache. I can’t erase the memories.”

“I know,” he replied softly, his eyes filled with remorse. “But let’s try again. Let me try again, Y/N. Please.”

You wanted to believe him, to believe that he meant every word, that he was sincere in his intentions. But the wounds of the past were still fresh, and the memories of betrayal were still lingering in your mind.

“You know what hurts me more?” you asked, “It’s the fact that you didn’t lose your memories of me, but you still ended up falling for her,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

Satoru’s silence felt like a confirmation to you. Perhaps he had indeed fallen in love with Akemi, and you were the obstacle standing in the way of his complete commitment to her. You were just a relic of his past, a piece that he needed to discard in order to embrace his future with Akemi. It seemed that fate had already decided that you and Satoru would never find happiness together, and this should serve as nothing more than a closure.

But god be damned, it was tearing you apart.

You tugged at the necklace around your neck, the pendant bearing half of his heart, and in your trembling hand, you ripped it off. As painful as it was, your next action was to hurl it into the darkness of the lake, discarding the last remnant that linked him to you, watching as it disappeared beneath the surface of the lake with a soft splash.

You know the difference between us, Satoru? You thought silently. I dove into the ocean just to find our wedding ring, but you would never plunge into that lake to retrieve that necklace.

With determined steps, you turned away before he could react, walking away from that place, walking away from him. You resolved that this would be your final encounter with Satoru Gojou in your lifetime, because there was no need for him in your life, just as he no longer needed you in his. You two would remain in the past, a memory best left behind.

This was you letting him go.

But then, just as you were about to walk away, you heard a faint noise from the darkness behind you—a splash, followed by the sound of another frantic splashing.

Your heart pounded heavily in your chest. You turned back toward the lake, your eyes widening in shock as you saw Satoru thrashing in the water, his arms flailing as he searched desperately for the necklace you had thrown away.

“Satoru, you idiot!” you cried out, your voice filled with disbelief and concern and pain and overwhelming heartache. Without a second thought, you ran back to the cold water, your feet sinking into the soft sand as you waded into the lake. “Satoru, what are you doing?!” you called out again, your heart racing as you reached out to him, your fingers brushing against his arm as he struggled to stay afloat.

“I have to find it,” Satoru gasped, his voice strained with exertion. “I have to find the necklace you threw.”

Your breath caught in your throat as you looked into his eyes, seeing the desperation and determination that burned within them. You knew then that you couldn’t let him risk his life for a piece of jewelry, no matter how sentimental it may be.

“Satoru, please,” you pleaded, your voice trembling with emotion. “It’s not worth it. Let it go—”

But Satoru shook his head, his gaze fixed on the dark waters below. “I have to find it," he insisted, his eyes tearful. “It’s my heart. I gave it to you.”

I hate you. I hate you. I hate you.

The tension between you crackled like electricity in the air. In that moment, all of your walls came crashing down, your heart laid bare before the man you had once loved with all your soul.

With tears streaming down your cheeks, you reached out and pulled Satoru into your arms, your lips meeting his in a desperate, longing kiss. It was a kiss filled with years of pent-up emotion, a bittersweet union of love and pain that left you both breathless and raw. Your lips moved together in a tender dance, each kiss a silent plea for forgiveness, for understanding, for a second chance at the love you had lost. It was a kiss that spoke of regrets and what-ifs, of dreams left unfulfilled and promises broken.

For years, you had been strangers, your hearts closed off to each other in an attempt to shield yourselves from the pain of your past. But in that moment, as you clung to each other in the darkness, you couldn’t deny the truth that still lingered between you—that your love for each other had never truly died.

As you finally pulled apart, gasping for air, you looked into Satoru’s eyes, seeing the depth of his pain mirrored in your own. “I hate you,” you whispered, your voice laced with grief and surrender, "so much."

Satoru reached out and brushed a tear from your cheek, his touch gentle and tender. “I hate me, too,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion, his eyes shining with guilt, “for hurting you.”

You couldn’t erase the past, nor could you predict the future. But as you stood together in the middle of the lake, your hearts entwined once more, you found solace in the simple act of being together, of sharing your pain and your love in the darkness of the night. And as you held each other tight, the gravity of your connection pulled you to kiss him again.

Once more, you met his lips in a deeper kiss. His lips moved in perfect sync with yours, and the taste of his tongue was met with the familiarity you two shared. It was as if your bodies were moving on its own, and you allowed it to dictate whatever action it desired. Forget everything for now, was all you could think of in your head. In your mind, it was all Satoru. It was the man you love. The man you married. The man you share a child with.

You were too engrossed with the feeling of his lips that you didn’t even realize he had your legs wrapped around his waist. And with your arms around his neck, you could feel him lift you up, never breaking the kiss as he carried you out of the lake. With each step he took, your kiss only got deeper and deeper. You had never felt such intensity throughout your marriage, and you were intoxicated by the feeling of kissing him again.

Of feeling his lips around your jawline. Your neck. Your chest. You were gasping on his mouth, had his lips completely enveloped with yours, not realizing you were stumbling inside your cabin, desperate to find somewhere to lay on.

And before you knew it, the night had played way differently than expected.

Both your wet clothes were on the floor in a tangle of fabric, forgotten in the heat of your passion. And now, with your bare body on top of him. His arms caressed the smooth skin of your back, his lips feathering kisses along your bust. As you moved your hips slowly, you couldn’t stop the moan that escaped your lips. Satoru’s member was warm inside you. Your bodies were tingling from the intensity of your lovemaking in the dimly lit room. And when you pulled away, your eyes were locked in a silent exchange of yearning.

Without a word, Satoru reached out and gently cupped your breast, his touch sending electricity down your spine. You leaned into his touch, your breath coming in shallow gasps as you felt the heat of his body pressing against yours.

Your lips met once more, a tender exploration of each other’s mouths, and he was taking that chance to shift the position you were in. Slowly, almost hesitantly, he began to enter you again. You were whimpering under him, melting into his passionate movements. You have had sex with Satoru multiple times before, but it was never this emotional. It was never this passionate. You could feel the difference with the way he kissed you, with the way he looked at you, with the way he touched you.

“S-Satoru—!”

“Mmm… I missed you so fucking much, Y/N.”

And then, finally, you came together in a flurry of hands and lips and skin, your bodies melding into one as you gave yourselves over to the exquisite pleasure of your lovemaking.

At that exact moment, as you moved together in perfect harmony, you knew that you were home.

— —

When Akemi woke up, she could tell something felt wrong.

It didn’t help that Satoru was not by her side as she opened her eyes, blinded by the sunlight that peeked through the window. Was he out for a morning run? Or perhaps he was indulging in a leisurely bath? She entertained the idea of joining him, wanting to express her gratitude for his care and support.

Her heart swelled with love for him, despite all the risks and uncertainties. He was her rock, her confidant, her everything. In him, she found solace and strength, and she couldn’t imagine her life without him. Despite the troubles of his past, she felt blessed to have crossed paths with him. She longed for the kind of deep connection and lasting commitment that she saw in others’ marriages, a dream she harbored for her own future. And in Satoru, she saw the perfect partner to share that dream with, to build a family and a life together that she had always yearned for.

Akemi wasn’t ashamed by how smitten she was with him. In fact, she was beginning to have more confidence in her decision to pursue a relationship with him. She just hoped you would understand, that you would eventually let go of the grudge in your heart. At the end of the day, she wasn’t trying to hurt you. She was only trying to pursue her happiness.

And the exact source of her happiness was someone she endeavored to find that morning. She put on a robe and searched every room in the cabin, calling out for his name, wondering why she couldn’t hear his voice.

With no response forthcoming, Akemi decided to exit the cabin in search of Satoru. Assuming he had likely been with Suguru all night, she scanned the vicinity, expecting to spot his tall, white-haired figure. Yet, after several minutes of fruitless searching, she couldn’t find him and instead, encountered a hotel staff member. That was when she decided to finally inquire about his whereabouts.

“Excuse me,” she began, halting the staff member’s stride, “Have you seen my boyfriend? He’s tall, with white hair and blue eyes.”

“Ah, Mr. Gojou?” the hotel staff responded, scratching her head as realization dawned. She then gestured toward the last place Akemi wished him to be. “Um, I think he’s in there.”

Akemi’s heart raced as if she had seen a ghost. Her complexion drained of color, her heart pounding in her chest as she realized that the cabin she had been directed to was yours. And in a twist of fate, just as she stood there in shock, the man she loved emerged from the cabin, equally wide-eyed.

“‘Kemi…” he began, frozen in place, “Let’s talk first—”

But she cut him off with a scoff. Her hands trembled with a tumult of emotions—anger, pain, and betrayal—threatening to overwhelm her. She was on the verge of collapse, her mind reeling with questions. Was he going to explain his actions? No, there was only one question that demanded an answer.

“Did you… did you do it?” she asked through gritted teeth, her voice laced with accusation.

Satoru didn’t need to respond. As Akemi pushed the door open, her worst fears were confirmed as she saw you standing behind him, draped in nothing but a blanket. Tears welled in her eyes, and before she could think, her body reacted, her hand connecting with Gojou’s cheek in a resounding slap.

“You never changed!” she cried out, her voice cracking with anguish. “You’re still a cheater!”

Satoru struggled to deflect each fist she hurled at him, but her rage and despair overwhelmed any attempt to reason with her. She was consumed by her pain and the looming betrayal she anticipated, unable to comprehend that her worst fears were coming true before her eyes.

“‘Kemi, please,” Satoru pleaded in vain.

“...Akemi, I'm sorry,” you interjected, your voice heavy with remorse as you wiped your tears. “It’s not his fault. It’s mine.”

Upon hearing your words, Akemi erupted. She disregarded your friendship, cast aside your shared memories, and denied that she had ever considered you a friend. Her tear-filled eyes bore into you with accusation. “Y-You,” she began, her voice choking with sobs, “You’re a hypocrite, Y/N!”

You remained silent, absorbing her words.

Akemi pressed on with her onslaught. “You’re a hypocrite! You’ve become the person you despised the most when you were married,” she accused, recalling the anguish you endured during Gojou’s affair. “You’re no better than Sera! And that’s why you’re miserable, and you’ll forever be miserable! If this is your way of getting back at me,” she paused, betrayed by the anguish in her voice, “Then jokes on you, because Satoru will never be faithful to you. He’ll keep cheating on you, just like he did now with me! You two belong in that cycle!”

She fled before she could hear your response, but Satoru’s whispered apology lingered in the air, unclear of who its intended recipient was. At that moment, she didn’t care anymore. She raced back to her cabin, tears streaming down her face as she hastily packed her belongings.

She moved mechanically, tossing her belongings into her luggage while grappling with the overwhelming pain of his infidelity. Try as she might to focus on the task at hand, her tears flowed freely, and she surrendered to her grief, cradling her face in her hands.

Amidst her anguish, she couldn’t ignore the escalating pain in her pelvic region, a physical echo of the agony in her heart. Each sob seemed to intensify both sensations, leaving her feeling utterly shattered.

With that confrontation, Satoru faced a pivotal choice: to stay with you or to pursue Akemi.

While Akemi had anticipated that he might choose you, she was taken aback when she swung the door open,

bags in hand,

only to find Satoru Gojou standing on her doorstep.

#series: sincerely yours #gojo satoru x reader #gojou satoru x reader #gojo satoru x you #gojo x reader #jjk x reader #gojo angst #jjk x you

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see-arcane · 4 months ago

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Honestly, I wonder how the girlies are doing now that they probably knows that Dracula is coming back to Transylvania. They had the castle, and the land for themselves for like, 3 months? And the fucker wants to come back already???? They are probably searching through ancient texts, and dusty tomes how to make the castle not His House anymore so the Count can't enter, and they can laugh at him in return.

Who needs ancient texts when they have up-to-date 19th century sorcery?

Dracula, trapped outside the threshold: "What did you do."

The Weird Sisters: "Do we know you, sir?" :) :) :)

Dracula: "After 400 years you ought to."

The Weird Sisters: "Sorry, the only ancient pain in the ass we knew disappeared. Died, in fact. We have the death certificate framed and everything. A tragic loss. But at least we have this castle property to remember him by." :) :) :)

Dracula: "You didn't."

The Weird Sisters: "We did. May Count Dracula rest in pieces." :) :) :)

Dracula: "How did you even--since when do you even know the property laws of the territory?"

The Weird Sisters: "Modern tomes." :) :) :)

Dracula: "Modern--?"

The Weird Sisters: ;) ;) ;)

Dracula: "...You went through Harker's law books."

The Weird Sisters: "Maybe." :) :) :)

Dracula: "Let me in, you ingrates."

The Weird Sisters: "Hmmmmmmmmm nah. Tell Bloodbag Boytoy thanks for the legal texts. You know, before the beheading ensues." :) :) :)

Dracula: "LET ME IN YOU FU--"

The Weird Sisters, slamming the door: "Bye." :) :) :)

#and then he gets his head lopped off and his heart staked on his own doorstep The End <3 #the weird sisters #brides of dracula #dracula #re: dracula #dracula daily

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abibliophobiaa · 2 years ago

Text

Beyond — s.h. x f!reader

Chapter Two: I Think I Wanna Marry You

a/n: here’s chapter two 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.

warnings/tags: hugely unedited; 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

The move itself brings a second dose of reality you never fully thought through.

Seeing Steve there, with his dark BMW, sunglasses on his face. He’s popped the trunk already and it’s with that sudden clarity you’re reminded that it’s happening.

That this is real and not some dream you’ve imagined in your mind.

You’re marrying him. In four weeks. Thirty days, exactly. A countdown to the next three years of your life. The other half of your “paperwork” you’re going to sign when you scribble your name along that certification of your marriage.

You work in comfortable silence. Robin and Nancy come along too for assistance, and with the combination of efforts, Steve’s car is packed in less than two hours. You’re shocked he’s even bothered to do it himself, and not order some sort of moving company. But when you point that out to him, he only shrugs and says he wanted to help.

Apparently it’s the least he can do for getting a wife at the end of all of this.

That and countless zeros on a check that he doesn’t even need or want.

Once your things are all settled in the trunk and backseat, Robin wanders over to where you both stand on the sidewalk, arms looping tight around your frame. She steps back and moves to tousle Steve’s hair, earning a sharp jerk of his body out of contact and an utterance of complaint from the taller man.

With a snort, she says, “You love me, don’t deny it.”

And he does. You know that much. He’s been closer with Robin for a year or so now. A direct result of her relationship with Nancy. Nancy’s job as a journalist, often documenting his life or the accolades of his family, has established a bond between the three. You try to tamper that slight jealousy.

The fact is that both Robin and Eddie have more insight into the man you’re marrying than you do.

You were always too busy, after all. Working or deep in your own studies and missing out on the many evenings Steve invited them all to join him in his outings. You suppose you’ll rectify that soon. There’s a lot two people can learn in three years—if he’s open to it, that is.

That awareness of truly not knowing him settles in as you clamber into the passenger seat, thumb sliding awkwardly over the band of your engagement ring to fiddle idly. He turns the dial on the music, something pop and current, and you lean back against your seat, letting the quiet of the morning wash over you.

You wake some time later to the sound of Steve’s voice in your ear, announcing, “Hey. We made it.”

Sleep lingers in your eyes as you shift in your seat to take him in. Dark eyes greet yours, sunglasses tucked into the neckline of his shirt. Your gaze then slides to the imposing building on a side of the city you’ve never really ventured outside of your coffee date with him some days prior.

It stands proud, tall and looming, with workers at the ready, prepped with carts for your things.

“They’ll take care of bringing everything up, and I thought maybe we could grab a coffee,” he suggests, moving to open his door. He tosses the valet his key and waltzes over to your side, opening the door for you. “How does that sound?”

You’re suddenly aware of the state of your clothes. Nothing more than a pair of baggy mom jeans and a striped tee shirt. Some white tennis shoes that are veering on brown in some areas from overuse.

Then there’s Steve, in dark wash jeans and a shirt you know likely still cost him a small fortune. Effortlessly handsome as always with a Chanel watch strapped around the wrist extended toward you.

You take his palm, nearl tripping over the bump of the curb as you go, your side thumping against his. He curls you there instead of letting you go, an arm around your shoulder, waving to the workers as they shift and swirl around you.

Keeping up appearances already, you suppose.

One pauses to dip their head your way, beaming brightly, asking, “It’s the girl from Instagram. Congratulations, Miss. Or rather, soon to be Mrs. Harrington.”

The name drops something akin to cool dread in your stomach. But you smile all the same. “You know what they say. When you know—” You tip your head up to look at him, gripping him by the jaw and giving him a soft wiggle. “You know.”

In your palm, Steve forces a grin. A little wild, a little smushed and silly, but the worker smiles all the same and wishes you both a good morning. Leaves you standing beside your soon to be husband on the side of an unfamiliar street, in an unfamiliar new town, ready to walk into your unfamiliar home.

“Coffee sounds good, actually,” you decide, wanting to be anywhere other than stuck in the awkward silence of the moment, and follow him down the sidewalk.

By the time you return, Steve’s been alerted that all your things have been brought up to the penthouse. Coffee in hand, you walk through the swirling doors, standing as close to Steve as humanly possible without truly touching him. There are people there to greet him, realizations in the back of your mind that he must be well-known. Amicable and kind, they offer warm welcomes to both you and your future husband as you’re led to an elevator that brings you all the way up to the top floor.

It’s from there, you’re brought into the place you’ll be spending the next few years. But what greets you is far greater than you even imagined. Endless floor to ceiling windows that overlook the cityscape. High, vaulted ceilings, impossibly white walls. Dark furniture throughout the living area, the kitchen. Against the living room wall rests the largest television you’ve seen, presently off, though Steve turns it on to allow some music to play and break the awkward silence as he walks you around.

He’s already told you the general layout of his space: two bathrooms, multiple bedrooms, a fully decked out personal gym, movie area, dining area, outdoor patio, a study that also poses as his office, a library. It seems impossible to have this much space, and yet the further into the suite you walk, the more real it becomes.

“Seems not lived in, though,” you comment out loud, taking in the impressively clean place. Especially knowing Steve doesn’t spend much time at all here. “Like there’s all this space and nothing to fill it with.”

He huffs out a laugh, not disagreeing. “You can spruce it up if you want. I’ll give you my card. Whatever you like to make it feel like yours. Because, well, it is yours.”

“Yours, mine, and ours, right?” You awkwardly laugh, walking over to look out the windows and take in the bustling city below. “It’s amazing.”

“It’s…yeah, you know, I guess it is.” He sidles up next to you, peering out where you are. He frowns, contemplative. “I guess I don’t think about it often. I wake up to it every day.”

Another stark reminder of just how different your lives are.

“How was wedding planning with my mom?” he asks, drawing you attention to his face. His fingers card through his hair, his feet carrying him over to the kitchen to pull out a glass. He adds a second, asking, “Anything to drink?”

“Water is fine,” you say, hands clasped behind your back as you join him. “We went over color schemes. I ended up with pale pinks, lavenders and a tiny pop of gold. More so the accents. We will be looking for a dress tomorrow. Kind of shitting myself over that one.”

“I can come—if you want?” He suggests, holding your glass in front of him.

“Isn’t that bad luck?” you tease, taking a sip.

“Pretty sure that’s only at the wedding.”

“Right.” The wedding. In thirty days. “I mean, if you wanted to come…”

“I’ll be there,” he promises, opening his phone and showing you the calendar app. “What time?”

“Your mother got us a private appointment at twelve. I told her she didn’t have to do that but—”

“She’s excited. She’s getting a daughter out of this. Sometimes I think she wishes I’d been a girl,” he laughs, though there’s a hint of bitterness there you don’t miss. “Here—let me show you your room.”

You trail after him in silence, eyes taking in everything you pass. Boring, empty walls. No pops of color. No personal photos. Nothing indicative of life. Not even a shred of memorabilia from his childhood, or something of sentimental value from his boyhood. It seems odd, though you don’t press him on it. Instead you allow him to bring you through the tour, before stopping in front of a closed door.

“This,” he says, tapping on the exterior, “is my room. In case you ever need me. And here…”

You walk further down the way and stop in front of another door. “Will be your room. All your things will have already been moved in. You just have to unpack and make it yours. I do have some work I need to get to now, but I’m around if you need me.”

“It’s the weekend…” you point out, fingers around the door handle.

“Yeah,” he agrees, pushing his glasses up on the bridge of his nose. “But with all that’s going on, I want to make sure everything is taken care of before the wedding and our honeymoon.”

Honeymoon.

Right.

To that private island in the Maldives.

A honeymoon for two people who are most definitely not intimate and, therefore, should not be spending money like this is anything more than a mere sham.

Still, your flights are booked, accommodations made, and itinerary is set. It was the first thing his mother had done other than figuring out what color palette you preferred.

“So, uh, I’ll talk to you…later then,” you say, shifting awkwardly on the balls of your feet.

“Yeah, later.” He nods.

And suddenly, you’re Cinderella once more.

Standing there in that doorway, in her too-big home, with that pumpkin instead of a carriage.

Though you’ve never spent much time fantasizing about shopping for your wedding dress, it never quite looks like what you see around you now.

For starters, you imagined your mother would be there. Kind, bright and smiling. There to tell you how beautiful you look, to coax you through your nerves, to remind you that this is the most special day of your life coming up and to just enjoy the moment.

But it’s not. And you’re left standing on a pedestal in front of Mrs. Harrington, your father, sister, Eddie and Robin. Further off in the distance is Steve, phone against his face as it has been since you woke that morning.

Steve’s always busy, you soon realize. In the private car to take you to the boutique? He had a work conference call. In the kitchen while you ate your breakfast? Another phone call. Now here, while a bridal attendant works with his mother to find you some options to try on? He’s got some major meltdown to help sort out.

You understand, and yet there’s a slight sting there you’re not expecting. The idea that he said he would be there for your try-on session, but he’s not really there. Not emotionally, at least.

“Still can’t believe you got Eddie to come,” Caroline laughs, elbowing the man in question as he snatches her up and shakes her vigorously. “Stop it, asshole—”

“Caroline!” your father snaps, leaning back into the couch cushion as another attendant passes out glasses of champagne for all present.

They even manage to find some juice for your sister, so she feels involved with the process.

“So, we picked a few beautiful pieces. A lot of these are brand new, so you won’t have to worry about someone else wearing the same dress—”

“Oh I’m not concerned about—”

Mrs. Harrington clears her throat, waving her champagne flute in the air. “Only the best for my future daughter in law.”

You shoot a weak grin Robin’s way.

Eddie gives you a reassuring thumbs up, arm still around Caroline’s neck despite her protesting.

The next few hours are a whirlwind of trying on dress after dress. Fancy beading, endless lace, plunging backs, dramatic trains, striking silhouettes.

You’re decked in beading from head to toe, diamond encrusted gowns, gowns that look like they’re better suited for royalty than on the girl who grew up in Hawkins. Who worked at her little hole in the wall restaurant and had a normal, unglamorous upbringing.

It hits you as you’re standing there, with a veil that looks to be studded with expensive jewels, staring at your own reflection that this isn’t you. None of these are. And even if you’re marrying someone to help them fulfill a will and to secure a debt for your own self, there’s a part of you that wants to do things your way.

If you’re going to get married to Steve Harrington, you want to feel like yourself while doing it. “Do you have something more…simple? Classic. Understated, maybe?”

The bridal attendant looks to your future mother-in-law like you have grown five dozen heads, and the look your mother-in-law then gives you tells you she is agreeing with the same sentiment.

Her gaze wavers, shifting over to where her son is pacing in the background, before she shifts back to where you stand on a podium.

The girl in a fancy ball gown that feels like a costume more than anything else.

“What are you thinking, sweetheart?” she asks, and you blow out a heavy breath.

Your guests shift on the couch awkwardly as you hop off the podium and peruse the dozens of racks. You point out the ones that seem more comfortable, more like something you would have picked up on your own even before all of this. Simpler designs, classical silhouettes, subtle beading.

All in all, you end up in a stunning a-line princess, v-neck wedding gown with thin straps and a pretty lace detailing along the low back.

A minimalistic veil is placed at the back of your head and draped around you like a billowing halo, trailing down the pedestal and onto the cream carpeting below.

Behind you, Eddie whistles.

Caroline snaps photos on her phone.

Robin’s shouting, “Holy shit, babe.”

And when you turn around to your father and future mother-in-law, you know you’ve made the right decision in trusting your gut. Both have snatched tissues from a nearby tissue box and dab ceaselessly at their eyes, sniffling audibly.

“You look beautiful, honey,” your father says around a sob.

Bottom lip wobbling, you whisper, “Thank you.”

Mrs. Harrington waves in her son’s direction, calling over her shoulder, “Steve, look at your bride. Stop being rude.”

When he turns around, there’s a moment. A brief one, you think, where he pauses. Maybe it’s a realization he’s making a huge mistake, the understanding that he’s going to have a wife in a few short weeks, the idea that he’s giving up his future for three years. But there’s a thought, however fleeting, where his eyes widen and you wonder if it’s actually none of those at all.

Without a name to place that emotion to, you simply swallow and mutter softly, “Well, what do you think?”

Eddie leans against the couch, fingers draping over the plush back as he asks out loud, “Yeah, Stevie, what do you think?”

It’s a threat.

Veiled.

There’s no danger, not really, but Steve swallows all the same.

Wavers a bit as he looks to Eddie, then back to you.

He swallows again, and says, “You’re beautiful, honey.”

Disappointment sinks like an anchor of dread, because you wonder if he even means it.

Cake testing a week later fares no better. You’re still getting used to your new routine. Waking up early to an empty home in an empty room that hardly feels like yours. Steve’s usually off to sort out something with the business, while you’re left to your own devices.

Which means phone calls with the wedding planner, pictures sent back and forth between Steve and your future mother-in-law about decisions made, which Steve always just sends and thumbs up emoji back to, and trying to make sense of a wedding that only one half of the couple has been privy to.

Sure, he’d been there when you picked out your dress. But he hadn’t been for the floral arrangements, for figuring out what the bridesmaids will wear as well as the groomsmen. And he’s definitely not there when you’re presented with options for musical entertainment.

So it comes as a shock when he does end up coming for the cake testing. And since he’s free to do so, his mother stays home, suggesting it’ll be an intimate moment for you two. Something about how the cake is important.

You hold back your biting remarks about how it’s just a cake, and instead thank her.

Whine a bit on the phone to really sell the fact that you ‘miss Stevie’—in case she doubts the validity of your engagement. She’s not really shown any indications of such, but you’re growing more mindful of the importance of appearances.

Because it’s in that first week your name pops up in the popular pages of instagram and other social media platforms. There’s even a TikTok of you walking on a busy city street with Steve and Eddie, where people bring to question if you and Steve are already fighting based on your body language.

Though, you do suppose there’s some weight to their remarks. In said video, you’re standing closer to Eddie than Steve, and Steve’s phone is in the hand nearest to you. The one they suggest he should really be holding if he’s as in love as he is. It sounds ridiculous, but it does make sense.

In their eyes, you’re more likely to be dating the famous rockstar based on body language alone than your fiancé.

Wedding planning should be butterflies in your belly, heart eyes for days, wrapped up in one another sort of affection. Steve and you, on the other hand, are two people walking side by side and yet not together.

You understand you need to change that. So as you walk down the street that evening on your way to the bakery, you mutter out, “Hold my hand.”

“What?” He’s typing on his phone, as always. The sound of keyboard clicking meets your ears, before he locks the screen and slides it into his pocket.

“Hold,” you say. There’s a little extra bite this time, “my hand.”

He exhales. “Why?”

“Because you’re in love with me and we’re getting married in less than twenty days,” you remind him.

Less than three weeks. Just under that, really. A thought that immediately has your skin prickling with nervousness and anticipation. Three weeks until you have a new name, a new husband.

“And we’re on our way to our cake testing,” you add, lacing your fingers through his. “People have been talking about us on social media.”

“Saying what?” He leads you down a side street, and then another.

“That we look uncomfortable with one another. That it seems like we must be fighting, because you don’t show me any affection in public—”

“I’ve been—”

“Busy, I know. But they don’t know that, so they’ll fill in the blanks when applicable,” you explain, giving his palm a light squeeze. “So I think we should get used to the public displays of affection, don’t you? I mean, we’re going to have to kiss at the altar, for one. And then there’s the dancing at the reception. Photos. Events.”

“I guess you’re right,” he agrees.

“I know I’m right,” you joke, allowing him to open the door for you to the building.

“Cake testing can be intimate. This is one of your first meals as a couple, so it needs to be representative of your relationship. The two of you. The love you share,” the cake maker explains, her hands waving to and fro in the air like she’s painting a picture.

You glance over at Steve. He offers a shrug, likely just as uncertain as to what the hell this lady is getting at. “Pardon?”

“You want a cake that is representative of your love. A symbol—if you will.”

“It’s just a c—” Steve begins, but the older woman narrows her gaze darkly and he clears his throat. Uncomfortable. “Honey, why don’t you handle this one?”

“Oh, but darling, you’re the cake connoisseur.” You pat the hand holding yours affectionately atop the table, forcing a megawatt grin on your lips.

“Is that so?” Madeleine asks, cat eye glasses sliding lower down the bridge of her nose. “In that case, did you have any ideas for what you imagined the cake at your wedding to look like?”

Steve’s hand nervously grows tighter around yours. You hiss at the throbbing pain that develops there when your knuckles smash together. The grasp immediately loosens, a thumb coming to slide gently over the sore areas.

You choose to ignore the rush of heat that swoops low in your belly, though.

“Well—I pictured…a cake,” he expresses lamely.

“What my dear fiancé means to say is…we’ve been so caught up with the rush of wedding planning we haven’t given it much thought,” you giggly airily, faux coyness filling your tone. “You know how it is. We’re just so excited to spend the rest of our lives together. So we were hoping maybe you’d be able to suggest some options for us.”

Because you’re also not sure how to tell them your cake needs to be representative of a mix of high levels of shame and “I was drowning in debt and Steve offered assistance, so long as I become his wife.”

Madeleine huffs and gets to work.

Later, the two of you stumble back onto the street with a cake picked out and designed to Madeleine’s liking. A red velvet center with some endless swirling flowers along the exterior in the color scheme of your wedding.

“A cake reflective of our relationship,” he mutters, shaking his head as he reaches for your palm once more. “And what was that? Sacrificing me to her?”

You bat your eyelashes prettily, shrugging. “My idea of a cake is a boxed Pillsbury one. I figured you were the closest to an expert we would get. Also—you nearly broke my hand there.”

“I was stressed,” he argues, though there’s a hint of a smile curling his lips. His thumb does another one of those low sweeps that has you pausing in your footsteps. “But that was a little ridiculous, wasn’t it?”

You bark out a laugh, following him down the still unfamiliar streets leading home. “A little? I don’t know where your mother and the wedding planner found her. It’s a cake. It’s literally a cake we’re going to have one bite of before the caterers feed it to the rest of our guests.” A shudder ripples down your spine at that. “Our guests. Weird to think, huh?”

“Less than three weeks,” he muses, the two of you crossing at a streetlight. “Still feeling okay with the whole thing?”

“Okay? That's still to be determined.” He waves to someone in passing. Likely a neighbor, you assume. “Backing out? Absolutely not.”

One thing you definitely didn’t consider in this whole…fake marriage plot with Steve, is the concept of bachelor and bachelorette parties. You are obviously well aware of the typical fanfare, have been in numerous weddings as it is, but there are no parameters or guidelines in place for a wedding that has been planned in thirty days in an effort to rush to the altar.

So, you leave that part of the wedding planning up to your friends.

And somehow the end result is a joint party.

What could possibly go wrong?

“Holy shit, Steve.” Robin’s head falls back as she enters your bedroom, mouth dropping open, taking it all in. It’s the size of both your rooms combined back at your old place. “At least you got a nice place out of all this.”

You shrug, dropping down onto your bed. Fingers splay across the sheets, soft and cool beneath. Against your closet rests the white jumpsuit you’ve decided on for your party. A sleeveless number that cinches at the waist and a sweetheart neckline that cups your breasts sumptuously.

Pretty.

But there’s the dawning realization that tonight all the attention will be solely on you and Steve.

So what do you do?

“This is a terrible idea,” Steve groans, wincing as his shot goes down.

“Actually, it’s probably one of the best I’ve had,” Eddie exclaims, clapping you both on the back.

The sting of tequila burns in your nose. The flowing sash across your chest that says Mrs. Harrington rumples when your arm reaches over to place the glass back down on the countertop. Robin’s there to adjust it, grinning despite your sour expression.

“Wow, look at you two,” she coos, pulling out her phone to snap a photo. “For your story. They’ll eat it up. Plus, better to get all the cute pictures now, instead of when you’re both drunk later.”

Steve pulls you closer to take a photo, grumbling. “We are not getting drunk.”

“Steeeeve.”

You’re drunk.

“Yeah, honey bunny.”

Aaaaand so is he.

“F—” You hiccup. He laughs, leaning bodily into your shoulder. “—uck. I’m gonna kill Eddie.”

Even though Eddie’s only responsible for your first drink. Not the second, or the third, fourth…you’re not sure where you’re at now.

There’s at least an awareness that it’s enough; enough to have the room spinning when you sit down, and Steve beside you like an anchor in a shaky sea.

So when he moves to stand, your fingers curl around his wrist and drag him back down again. “No. Don’t go. We’re…to death do us part.”

“Till,” he corrects, snorting playfully. “You’re gonna see me everyday for…three years.”

“But there’s so many people here. Soooo many. And most of them are your friends,” you whine, clasping your hand in his as he leads you back out further into the people spread out along the private rooftop. “You have soooo many friends. Did you know that?”

He simply laughs, just as Eddie’s voice breaks over the noise all around you. A loud shout of, “The soon to be newlyweds should do the next round of karaoke!”

“Edward Munson, you little s—” Another hiccup. Shit, you think, we’re giggly drunk tonight. “shit. I’m gonna beat your ass like I did when we were kids.”

“It’s like something out of a fuckin’ romcom,” Steve later whines as you’re both pushed onto the stage by a bunch of cheering friends. “And they picked our song already.”

“Oh no, which one?” You slur a bit on your words, one ankle rolling like a baby deer.

Steve grasps your bicep to steady you. “Marry You by Bruno Mars.”

“Nooo,” you moan, hiding your face in his collar bone. Shit, you think, I’m a flirty drunk tonight too. “Think we can escape our own party?”

One glance out to your awaiting guests tells you that’s not at all a possibility. Steve’s there, overly affectionate now that you’ve got a crowd, with a hand on your lower back, pulling you close.

To anyone else, you’re a couple celebrating their nuptials in the next few days.

To you, you know he’s laying it on thick.

Making sure there is absolutely no question as to the validity of your marriage.

Especially with potential co workers around, with those who can easily talk rumors in the halls, who might wonder why the speedy engagement and rush down the aisle in the first place.

“One song,” you shout over the crowd, over Steve’s shoulder.

And then, in a puff of breath against his ear you whisper, “Make it count, hubby.”

“It’s a beautiful night. We’re looking for something dumb to do. Heyy babyyyy! I think I wanna marry you!” You sing.

If you can consider it that.

To Eddie it’s screeching or a shrill wail, a high pitched thing that makes everyone around you wince.

There’s interference with the mic that has Eddie’s eyes slamming shut against the sharp pang against his eardrums.

“Think we should stop them?” Robin asks out loud, watching Steve awkwardly bob and sway beside you, never really sure of what to do with his body when it comes to music.

“No,” Eddie chuckles darkly, leaning back on his chair. “Those idiots are involving us in a literal crime, so we’re going to have our fun with it.”

“Is it the look in your eyes or is it this dancing juice? Who cares, baby, I think I wanna marry you,” Steve continues, and it’s clearly not up to your standard, because you grab his arm and wiggle it frantically.

“I am marrying him!” You giggle over the microphone, extending your ring to the crowd. “Can you believe it? Mrs. Harrington.”

“Oh no,” Robin mutters, gripping Nancy’s hand beside her. “She’s giggly now.”

“She’s fucked up. She’s going to kill us in the morning,” Eddie grumbles.

Robin’s eyes widen as Nancy says, “I really feel like you two should stop them. Because Steve just grabbed her and now they’re, uh, making out on the stage—”

Robin jumps to her feet. “Oh fuck.”

You wake in the morning to a bunch of tiny needles stabbing your skull. Like someone took a jackhammer to your brain and pushed an on switch.

Brain practically groaning in your head, you lift yourself slowly into a sitting position and moan at the throb that rolls down the nape of your neck and down your spine.

Wincing, you kick your legs over the side of the bed and insert your feet into the slippers on the floor down below, sighing at the immediate comfort.

The penthouse is full of chatter. Voices mill from the kitchen, soft despite the clanging cymbals you’re convinced are in your brain. And there, at the kitchen island, stands none other than your two (ex) best friends and your soon to be husband, cups of coffee held against their temples, shame ebbing from their forms.

“Good morning, beautiful,” Robin coos, turning around to gauge your expression.

You don’t miss the shock of brows curling high on her forehead, nor do you miss the tick in Eddie’s cheek as he fights a smile.

“I must look like shit,” you grumble, sliding into the kitchen between the group, uncaring as your shoulder brushes Steve’s. There’s already an iced coffee for you on the countertop. Steve must have ordered, you assume, fighting the flutter in your chest at the thought. “I feel like shit. Very unsexy shit. People keep talking about my bridal beauty, but I feel very much like a bridal beast right now.”

Robin shakes her head, hand on your shoulder. “No, you look fine, you look—”

“Like you’ve had better nights,” Eddie says nonchalantly, earning a cough from Steve to his left.

“I’m sorry, it seems like your invitation to my wedding was rescinded. So weird,” you say brightly, leaning against Robin’s shoulder, pinching your eyes against the bright kitchen lightning. “You’re no longer my best friend. Maybe you’ll fare better with Steve here.”

Why did Steve get a building with white walls as far as the eye can see? You also decide your first purchase will be curtains to block out the natural light coming through the large windows covering the entirety of your living room exterior.

“Tell me you guys didn’t have fun,” Eddie says with a roll of his eyes. “Unless you don’t remember much of it. But it looked like you were having fun.”

The thing is, you remembered every moment.

Every interaction with your guests, every brush of shoulders from your soon to be husband.

Every fleeting glance.

Every look over the top of your glass.

The way your heart danced in your chest as he led you onto that stage.

How his fingers had curled around your own as you sang that ridiculous karaoke song.

How his lips had felt when he dropped a hand to the small of your back and tugged you flush against his form.

The way his heart thundered against yours where your sternums pressed together.

The warmth of his palm.

The heat of his breath as you breathed one another in.

The fullness of his mouth against yours, gentle brushes at first that soon grew passionate.

Heated.

It had been scalding.

A burn that simmered.

A burn you relished, wanted to fan into flame, wanted to foster in the moment.

Just a silly, stupid, alcohol-fueled moment.

It means nothing.

Nothing.

“I don’t really remember much after we left here,” Steve says.

He stares at you. Eyes locked on your face. Imploring.

Eddie and Robin shift your way, too.

Curiosity brims, and your heart aches.

You open your mouth. “I don’t really remember much either.”

Seven days.

You’ll be a wife in seven days.

Don’t get it twisted now, you remind yourself.

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington x reader fanfic #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x reader fluff #modern!steve harrington #fake husband!steve harrington #steve harrington fic #steve harrington x female reader #steve harrington modern au

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vacantgodling · 9 months ago

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a guide to: hyacinthus shrapnel

thank you to anyone who's expressed interest in my favorite asshole man--at some point i'll do this for more ocs, but i am not immune to favoritism. gently tagging those who i think would wanna see this:

@henrike-does-writing-sometimes @outpost51 @void-botanist @jezifster @mjjune @sergeantnarwhalwrites @ink-flavored @astral-runic @calicohyde @kk7-rbs @foxys-fantasy-tales @inadequatecowboy @sarahlizziewrites @multi-lefaiye

transposed under the cut!

SLIDE 1: A GUIDE TO HYACINTHUS SHRAPNEL -- the meanest, prettiest, and most emotionally constipated man ever. by @vacantgodling, yours truly

SLIDE 2: BASIC INFORMATION pt. 1

FULL NAME: HYACINTHUS SHRAPNEL (nicknames: HYA (by amon), CINTHY (by aloe, lovingly, and tagetes, degradingly), CINTH (by narci))

AGE: 31

BIRTHDAY: he hates talking about his birthday, so you won’t get the exact date. just know that it falls during the galerian form of “christmas” which is the two weeks of may 12th — may 24th. its somewhere in there :)

GENDER: TROIBEMME (HE/HIM PRONOUNS ONLY)

the galerian equivalent to our nonbinary; an entirely separate gender denomination that blurs the line between masculine and feminine; encompassing everything inbetween, nothing at all, or outside of a binary frame altogether. its considered a ‘third gender’ by the galerian people, and has been observed in galerian history for centuries. old galerian even features multiple pronoun sets, but they have been lost in the modern age. nowadays, those who present as troibemme usually use “they” “he” or “she” but this does not negate their troibemme status. gender =/= pronouns etc.

SOCIAL STATUS: WIFE OF THE KEEPER OF CHATEAU AUX AISLES D’OR

husband and wife refer to the specific social hierarchy in galere. “wife” and “husband” respectively refer to the role of being a breadwinner and connection maker (husband) versus the manager of the house and finances (wife). wives do occasionally lead the way in organizing at home balls. child rearing (in upper society) is usually left to maids and nanny’s—not a responsibility of either parent. traditionalists believe wives should take on this task as children are part of the “home”, but in actual valerian society children are usually pawned off. all of the gunn clan, sans aloe (as he is part of the clergy) are wives.

SLIDE 3: THE GUNN FAMILY TREE

a family tree that showcases the main gunn family tree. lonicera gunn and clematis gunn are crossed out because they are deceased. they were wed first and had 3 children, tagetes gunn de beneaux (40, they/them), iberis winch (36, he/him) and narcissus spokes (33, she/her). while it is not indicated by the chart, clematis had a relationship with moxie shrapnel in lonicera's twilight years, giving birth to hyacinthus shrapnel (31, he/him) and his name is in bold lettering. then, clematis finally married belladonna anvil (who hyphenated her name to anvil-gunn) and had 2 children, lavendula caldern (28, she/her) and aloe anvil-gunn (24, he/him).

SLIDE 4: BASIC INFORMATION PT. 2

SOCIAL STATUS: aside from a wife, hya is also a BASTARD. this is not a well kept secret.

bastards, as per the definition, are illegitimate heirs. hyacinthus is the 4th child of the dodgy businessman, CLEMATIS GUNN, who had an affair with a prostitute, MOXIE SHRAPNEL (where hya gets his surname), during his first wife’s decline in health.

bastards have no claim to family fortunes, so when clematis passed, hya would’ve been shit out of luck if he wasn’t essentially adopted by tagetes. hya has also never met his mother to his own knowledge as she fled the situation when clematis started getting more abusive.

in order to marry the keeper, tagetes had birth certificates forged. whether or not the keeper knows of this deceit is questionable; but the large dowry tagetes paid to facilitate the marriage has seemed to placate them enough not to question it.

MISC LIKES: coffee (misted ivory geisha is his favorite in universe blend—its imported from the northeast country i have yet to name), fashion (dresses, shoulder pads, and embroidery are his favorite things), gold & white (for jewelry, dress, and aesthetically), MONEY (he’s extremely materialistic), reading & literature (he’s very critical however—in a modern au he would probably be a pretty well renowned critic).

in general however, hya is easily annoyed.

SLIDE 5: what annoys hya, you may ask? FUCKING EVERYTHING. thank you for being polite because he's not :D

SLIDE 6: GENERAL APPEARANCE

HEIGHT: 5’11” (~180cm)

EYE COLOR: dark brown

HAIR COLOR: black, with hime bangs (square bangs in the front with short, square cut side bangs that frame the face and chin), and long hair that reaches to his mid back.

BUILD: broad, girthy👀, and imposing. when he finds time to work out is a mystery to most, but his physique shows he clearly does.

there are 2 photos of hyacinthus to display his looks; a broad shouldered, dark brown skinned man with fox-shaped and narrow eyes, multiple piercings (nose, ears, and lip), and two beauty marks under his left eye. he is wearing an intricate white and gold outfit in the picture on the right. in the one on the left he is wearing an intricate white and gold choker. there are 2 thought bubbles over each. one says "RBF STRONG AF". the other says "even though hya is so well manicured he hates showers bc #childhoodtrauma. he does take baths though!"

SLIDE 7: everything on hya glitters like gold -> here’s a map of hya’s piercings and notable features

the picture shows various arrows pointing to hyacinthus (who has his mouth open to reveal that his canine teeth on his upper row of teeth have been replaced by sharp, solid gold). they point to his beauty marks, canines, and various piercings.

SLIDE 8: IMPORTANT RELATIONSHIPS

as an aside, hya didn’t have friends growing up because he literally wasn’t allowed to leave the estate his father trapped him in until he was 19… and that was bc his dad died and tagetes ‘adopted’ him.

TAGETES ⟶ despite the fact that tagetes basically raised hya, the two of them hardly see eye to eye. tagetes views, treats, and exploits hya (as they do everyone) as a means to their end goals—though what those goals are is anyone’s guess. hya doesn’t trust tagetes as far as he could throw them. yet, at the same time, they have a strange sense of obligation and “care” (if it can be called that) towards one another. tagetes was definitely the main influence into why hya is Like That.

ALOE ⟶ since aloe turned 10 and learned that he had an older brother whom he hadn’t met yet, he began to try and write letters getting to know hya. despite being generally brash, crass, and a pain in the ass, hya really cherishes aloe’s letters and companionship, and they actually meet for the first time in person during the events of paramour.

AMON ⟶ y’all knew it was coming. i feel like i don’t even have to explain this one they are obsessed with each other in the most toxic of ways lmao. amon infuriates hya down to a molecular level, yet he is also the only man—only person—hya has ever been attracted to. (and he will not EVER admit that)

SLIDE 9: HIS OPINIONS ON...

… Narcissus ⟶ she annoys him and he can’t understand why she’s so obsessed with trying to ‘fit in’ with other people. also he wished she wouldn’t try to talk his ear off every time she saw him.

… Iberis ⟶ he literally doesn’t have one. the two of them avoid each other like the plague.

… Lavendula ⟶ avoids her like the plague if he can help it, but she actually looks up to him in a way, especially based on the things aloe has told her about him. they aren’t close and don’t really speak until her book but that’s a whole other thing.

… Clematis ⟶ #daddyissues. hates the man’s guts and is glad he’s dead.

… Lonicera ⟶ she died before he was born, but even if she lived, he would’ve never met her regardless. no opinion.

… Moxie ⟶ he’s never met his mother to his knowledge, so he has no opinion of her. she loves him very much and there’s more to that story that we won’t hear about until empire (tagetes’s book)

… Belladonna ⟶ the loathing is mutual

… Erecia ⟶ he doesn’t gain an opinion of her until lavendula’s book, and even then it’s mostly just “that’s amon’s friend” territory

… Viola, Barbatus, & Rumex ⟶ he’s not good with kids so he tries not to interact if he can avoid it

… Helianthus ⟶ finds him EXTREMELY obnoxious

… Terian ⟶ no opinion, they’ve never met.

… Miss Shanin ⟶ she’s always in his way and he’s generally annoyed by and suspicious of her

… Vira, Tamhas, Asahel ⟶ no opinion at all. they’re just servants.

… The Keeper & The Bishop ⟶ finds them genuinely disturbing. distrusts them HEAVILY.

SLIDE 10: ASSOCIATIONS

alcoholic drink: white russian

food: steak bechamel

colors: white & gold

flower: yellow hyacinths

animal: leopard

zodiac: taurus

tarot: six of swords

song: lyin’ to myself — todrick hall

#s: paramour #character intro #baby boyyyyyy <3 #did i get the tagging to work now #wth #tumblr pls #paramour profiles

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tsunflowers · 8 months ago

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I read some nonfiction for once, “the hidden case of ewan forbes and the unwritten history of the trans experience” by zoë playdon. really fascinating book. ewan was born in 1912 to a rich Scottish family who held two titles and owned both a castle and a mansion. from a pretty young age ewan knew he was a boy instead of the gender he was assigned at birth and his mother was super supportive. she even took him on a tour of Europe in his teens to meet with cutting edge endocrinologists for hormone treatment. he was able to change his birth certificate to male in 1952 with minimal hassle. it’s kind of amazing how smoothly things went. until his older brother died and his stupid cousin john tried to claim the title that could only pass down through the male line belonged to him bc ewan was a woman

they went to court over it. ewan used such evidence as getting his friends to testify that he had really masculine legs in a kilt and entering testicular tissue as medical evidence claiming he had removed it from his own body during a biopsy. he was a doctor but still. he actually won the case but everyone involved was sworn to secrecy and the records were sealed so that this obviously trans-positive ruling couldn’t set a precedent. ms playdon discusses how disastrous this was for trans rights in the UK up to the modern day. throughout the book she uses the timeline of ewan’s life as a frame of reference for the timeline of trans acceptant in the UK and abroad, and she continues to explain major legal events that occurred after his death. very informative book and very interesting. it gave me a strong feeling of We Have Always Been Here

#my book review corner

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canon-in-too-deep · 9 months ago

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Love Comes With Extra Pickles

I've decided to release the beginning of my unfinished Durgetash fast food au out onto my tumblr, where it may overgraze and ruin the landscape as it roams. Love Comes With Extra Pickles A modern day fast food Baldur's Gate au. Rating: T Relationship: Gortash/Dark Urge (called Tav) Wordcount: ~3.6k (Also I wrote this around Christmas so, uh, that's why there's some weird holiday references)

Beginning below the break.

~~~

It was a muggy day in early December. The overcast weather made the sea look like a gray silk sheet tossed out into the wind, and the once vibrant colors of fall were now muted as the promise of rain clung to the air.

Enver Gortash climbed off his silver motorcycle, and tucked his helmet away as he stretched his legs in the parking lot of Hellrider’s Kitchen. The smell of french fries and grease mingled with that of saltwater. Fast food wasn't his preferred fare, but after a long day at work and then a tedious commute of weaving between rows of traffic, he wanted to just grab something quick to eat before he headed back to his loft.

It had been ages since he’d last been in a Hellrider’s Kitchen, Gortash mused, as he twirled his keys in one hand and strolled towards the entrance. The franchise had exploded out of Elturel and now had at least one shop in every city of the Sword Coast. Their food tended towards the spicier side of things, but it was a flavor that Gortash had long grown up with, and he at least preferred spicy to the slimy and briny slop they served over at Balduran’s Burgers (‘Baldurans’ Burgers, Eat Like An Emperor!’ was their trite slogan). It was a quick and efficient solution to sate his hunger and refuel his caffeine stores when his awaiting fridge was empty and the nearest Coffee Grove was overflowing with a line of hippies and teens—two demographics he didn't care to endure over any period of time.

The electronic doorbell dinged as he crossed the threshold of the eatery, passing the cardboard cutout of a caricature knight astride a disproportionate horse. A crimson, fur trimmed santa hat had been placed atop the knight’s helmeted head—a touch of holiday cheer amidst the glaring fluorescent lights that bounced off the red, yellow, and white tiles of the floor.

Gortash’s gaze flickered over the half filled plastic tables and stools that were scattered across the left side of the eatery. To the right, prop shields and swords that looked like they belonged on a C-list medieval movie set were hung up on the wall, bracketing the framed certification that promised that this establishment had, at one point, been deemed suitable enough to serve consumables in. A few more cheap attempts at decor in the form of tacky tinsel garlands and strings of tiny bells adorned the counter, in front of which was a short queue of customers that curved out around black stanchions topped with striped bows.

Gortash took up his place at the back of the line and absently checked his phone, flipping through the tedious emails from work he'd have to respond to and deleting the incoherent text messages from Orin that were mostly just gorey pics she'd found on the internet—at least, he hoped she had found them on the internet.

He opened up the group chat and checked to see if Thorm had finally sent the confirmation info he had asked for.

Ketheric Thorm [4:58 PM]

I have finalized the deal with the Zhents. - Ketheric Thorm

Enver Gortash [5:00 PM]

Good. Send us the receipt. Ketheric Thorm [5:07 PM]

How do I do that? - Ketheric Thorm Enver Gortash [5:07 PM] Thorm. Save the image of the receipt. Then go to this group chat and pick the photo you want to send. Ketheric Thorm [5:17 PM] How do I save it? - Ketheric Thorm Enver Gortash [5:17 PM] Tap and hold, then click ‘Save To Photos’.

Ketheric Thorm [5:28 PM] Now how do I proceed to show the group? - Ketheric Thorm Enver Gortash [5:29 PM] You’re in the group chat now. Click the button in the bottom corner and select the image of the receipt. Hit send.

Ketheric Thorm [5:46 PM]

What button? - Ketheric Thorm

Orin de Red [5:47 PM]

OMFG THE BUTTON THAT LOOKS LIKE A CAMERA YOU SHRIVELED SACK OF SINEW

Accompanying Orin’s last text was a dozen knife emojis followed by a dozen heart emojis. And Ketheric still hadn't sent the copy of the receipt. Gortash punched the bridge of his nose, closed the chat and tucked his phone back into his pocket.

He sighed. He was never truly off the clock when it came to his job at Bane, Bhaal, & Myrkul. Climbing the ranks of the company had long been his goal, one that he had utterly devoted himself. Over the years, he had clawed and charmed his way to the top to serve as Bane’s personal chosen assistant, snatching up whatever control and power he could find along the way. Unfortunately, his position under Bane meant working closely with the right hands of the other two partners in the company. And that meant managing Ketheric’s tediousness while simultaneously wrangling Orin’s madness, and praying that their brittle workplace relationship would endure long enough until Gortash got his next promotion. Still, he could deal with his inept colleagues after he’d sated his appetite and refueled on caffeine.

At last, the person in front of him finally paid and got out of the way. Gortash stepped up to the register, glancing at the menu board hanging above the counter.

“Welcome to Hellrider’s Kitchen,” came the empty enthusiasm of the cashier. “We swear an oath to flavor. What can I get you today?”

“I'll have a number three and an extra large coff—” Gortash eyes widened as he looked at the cashier, and he suddenly froze.

There, right in front of him, was none other than Tav. Tav.

Tav, Bhaal’s favorite child. The one that the senior partner had hand chosen and trained to rise through the ranks of the company. The one that had cleaned house and crushed any and every sniveling coward that dared to step out of line. The one that had combined ruthlessness and efficiency into one divine form dressed in a blazer and a killer smile. The one that had spent countless hours working alongside him, toiling away at their ambitious schemes and grand designs. The one that had fucking crushed his plans when she’d disappeared without even a goodbye.

His Tav.

Gods, how long had it been? One year? Two years? Three? It felt like their history had been dragged into the depths of eternity, but at the same time, the image he had held of her in his mind was one that felt as real and vibrant as the woman before him.

Time seemed to stop completely now as he took her in. And he saw that she was still the same. Sure, her hair was longer now and worn up in a ponytail, and she was dressed in that tacky red and yellow uniform, but she was still the same.

The same nose that seemed to wrinkle up in unfettered judgment. The same lips that pressed together and looked like they could utter gut wrenching curses or sneering false praises. And the same eyes, that were so bold and defiant and utterly piercing, with an underlying glimmer of barely contained murderous annoyance.

A single syllable slipped from his uncharacteristically paralyzed lips. “...Tav?”

Her name hung in the air between them. And he felt the anticipation of the question build up, until she blinked at him, and gave her answer.

“Yes?” was all she said back.

Gortash swallowed dryly, and quickly recomposed himself, tugging down his coat collar and making sure his shirt was smoothed of any wrinkles.

“Tav,” he said again, more pointedly this time.

She glanced down at her name badge where T-A-V was written in black sharpie. Then she looked back up at him. Sounding slightly exasperated, Tav said, “Yes? That's my name. Do you need help with the menu? I recommend smiting your fries. It gets you an extra serving of our radiant ranch dipping sauce.”

Gortash frowned, and leaned forward a bit, placing his hands on the counter that separated them. “Tav, it's Enver Gortash. Surely you must remember me.”

She blinked.

“Oh.” She parted her lips hesitantly. “Uh, yea, sorry, I don't. I had an accident a few years back, and my memory's been a bit of a mess since.”

“When you didn’t show up at Moonrise, I… I thought you'd left me,” Gortash said to her, completely ignoring the line behind him.

“I what?” Tav’s brow scrunched up. “Look, whoever you thought you knew, that was a long time ago and I'm a different person now. I think. Or so I've been told. Anyway, I'm sorry if I wronged you or anything and forgot about it. Really sorry. So, if you'd like to place an order, I do have other customers that—

“Hells, Tav, I've missed you,” Gortash said, eyes only on her. “Come back with me.”

“Uuuuh like I said, I don't know you, dude,” Tav said. “Sorry if I forgot, but if you're not going to order anything, I have to ask you to step out of the line.”

“Forget the goddamn line,” Gortash said, leaning in closer. Tav backed away, squirming behind the register. “You have to remember me. Tav, we were good for each other, we could still be good for each other—”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, mister.” “We were on the cusp of perfection, you and I. We were poised to take over the entire company—” “Sure, sure. Look, I have other customers waiting—” “Tav, you were my favorite fellow assistant at the company. I tolerated Orin, but I liked you—”

Tav backed away from the counter and gave him a sharp look. “I'm getting my manager.”

“Wait!” Gortash reached out for her, but the counter was in the way. He let his hand fall back to his side. A thousand questions and a million commands roared through his mind, but a resigned sigh was all that came out. “Just…give me the number three with an extra large coffee.”

She eyed him cautiously. Then took a small step forward. “Will that be for here or to go?”

There was a pause as he gritted his teeth.

“...to go.”

She rang him up. He took out his wallet and paid.

As he took his receipt, he looked her in the eyes, and with a tinge of bitterness on the tip of his tongue, he said, “Keep the change.”

~~~

Tav squirmed behind the register as Enver Gortash stared at her from beneath his tousled black hair, dark gaze emphasized further by the dark circles under his eyes. He looked like one of the shaggy raccoons that kept trying to get into the dumpster out back, as he stood stiffly by the counter and waited for his order. That thought might have made her laugh, if she weren't so mortified.

She did her best to remain professional, and kept punching away at the keypad as the next customer placed their order. Working at a fast food chain meant she had experienced her fair share of weirdos. But having to deal with this particular weirdo was making her heart race beneath the cheap cloth of her button up uniform. Tav chewed her lip.

Gortash had seemed to buy into her lie, at least.

And it had been a lie.

Because, while Tav had actually been in an accident two years back—which had led to her cutting herself off from her own family, starting therapy with Withers, and completely changing her worldview—her bad memory was not so bad as to forget her ex.

Her bloody ex. Gortash.

Her Gortash. Tav cursed her luck.

The Enver Gortash she remembered would never have popped into a fast food joint like this. He had been brilliant and arrogant and callous and cutthroat, and keen to show off with the wealth and influence he had built for himself. Cheap burgers and coffee were the sort of late night comfort foods she would have been the one to bring to their dates to mock him with. But never him. He would have taken her out to the fanciest restaurant with more stars to its name than one could see in the smoggy city skies. And he would have smirked at her from across the table and poured her wine older than both of them as they laughed and planned and performed their dance as Bane and Bhaal’s chosen ones. Yet, here he was, in the middle of Hellrider’s Kitchen, dressed in a gaudy leather jacket and a black button up shirt that had far too many buttons undone, standing so out of place against the brightly colored cheesy decor.

Gortash looked the same. Same carefully tousled hair, same five o clock shadow, same blue steel eyes so dark they were almost black. The clothes might have been a bit fancier. And the circles underneath his eyes seemed to be a bit darker than they had been before, with a few more creases joining them around the edges. But he was still the same.

Tav tried not to sweat from the heat of the grill and the intensity of his gaze. Her panicked lie had been a half truth; the initial shock of the accident had left her mind scrambled. Ever since, she always forgot what she needed when she went to the grocery store unless she brought a list. But the accident hadn’t been so bad as to completely erase the unofficial relationship she had been in with her father’s business partner’s (decently) handsome and (relatively) young assistant.

Instead, that accident had been a wake up call for Tav. In life or death experiences, some people claimed to see a white light, or a flashback of all their past deeds. What Tav had seen instead had been a reflection of herself, hollow and empty in the reflection of the doctor’s visor. And she looked utterly miserable, alone, and bitter. That was the first step. The first step, towards realizing that there was more to life than making money and amassing influence through the suffering of others. That the cutthroat, cruel world her father wanted her in wasn’t the one that she wanted. That she yearned for a relationship not built upon power plays and manipulation, but a genuine one, full of compassion and hope.

She knew that it started out as selfish. And yes, even two years later, she still knew she had a very long way to go to truly be a better person. But the more she strayed from her father and his company—and the more she spent time practicing empathy and compassion—the more she began to think that she could maybe, truly, someday, become worthy of being a better person. And that small kernel of hope kept her going.

With her new outlook, came new friends. And her new friends were an important, guiding influence on her, teaching her that people could actually care, without money or power or influence hanging over their heads like a guillotine, and that she could care in turn. They had been the ones to really show her how bad the environment at Bane, Bhaal, and Myrkul’s had been.

As for Gortash—well, he was so devoted to the company that surely he would have continued to be just as bad an influence on her if she’d stayed in touch. He was a prick and an arse. He got good people like Karlach fired and his morality was as loose as his half-laced shirt. He was a controlling, manipulative bastard who had only tolerated Tav in so much as she had been brutal and cruel herself. And he would have tried to drag her back down to the depths she was trying to escape. Or so she told herself.

Really, when she’d deleted his number and blocked him two years ago, she had figured he would have moved on and forgotten her in turn. That he would prove to be just as selfish and apathetic and incapable of love as she’d tried to convince herself that he was.

But now, Gortash’s words echoed in her ears, as she counted out change to pass to the customer in front of her.

‘I tolerated Orin, but I liked you.’ Why did he have to come back, after all this time, when she had worked so hard to build a new life for herself out of the shadows of depravity and the cycle of viciousness she had been entrenched in? Why did he have to speak to her with such fervor in his voice that made her question ever leaving him behind?

She felt shame and guilt stir up in her just as much as embarrassment. One look at him and she was backsliding into her deceitful ways. He made a hypocrite of her. She knew this. But she did not know what else he would make of her if he knew the truth.

“Ahem. Tav. I seem to have come off stronger than I intended.”

Tav blinked again, and realized that the line had cleared, and Gortash had taken the opportunity of the gap to approach her at the counter once more. “I do apologize for my enthusiasm. Orin said you’d left me, but I never forgot about you,” he said, in that low sultry voice of his that settled so familiarly in the depths of Tav’s chest like a fine sip of whiskey. “If the past is lost to you, let me clear up some mysteries, then. We share so much history.”

“Uh, no thanks,” she said as politely as she could.

He gave her a look that she couldn’t quite read. It might have been disappointment, or it might have been calculating, or it might have been something far away in between.

“Well, at least let me give you my number in case you change your mind,” Gortash said. And he pulled out a black wallet with a golden clasp. He plucked a sharply printed business card from the folds, and slid it across the counter towards her. Tav glanced down at it. Her heart continued to drum a rapid beat. “Look, I—” She was cut off, as her coworker came up next to her and plopped a tray on the counter. “Order for Gor-trash!”

“Gortash,” the man in question corrected, irritably. Tav picked up the cup of coffee and the paper bag and practically shoved it into his arms. “Here you go, have a blessed day. Bye!” Gortash’s eyes lingered on hers, and she couldn’t help but notice the heat of his hands—her own brushing against his as she let go of the paper bag. “I’m going to take my break. Cover me,” Tav said to her coworker. And Tav logged off of the register and quickly headed towards the breakroom. Tav retreated into the breakroom and collapsed into a cracked plastic seat next to the sad Charlie Brown-esque fake Christmas tree HR had set up. Beneath the glow of the cheap twinkling lights and the harsh filters of the overhead fluorescents, she buried her head in her arms. And proceeded to have a mild crisis.

Everything was okay, Tav reminded herself, as she squeezed her eyes shut, trying to reign in and calm the flustered thoughts that were multiplying and bouncing against the sides of her skull.

Tab bit her lip. She replayed the moment when his black ice gaze had turned towards her and thawed in recognition. His surprise had ripped through that confident, composed mask he always wore, and it would have mirrored her own if she hadn't recognized him first a second sooner and had had the briefest of moments to school her expression.

Gods, her stomach felt like it was trying to unknot itself. Her palms were sweaty, and she felt like her heartbeat was playing along to “The Little Drummer Boy.”

Parum-pa-pum-pum.

Someone tapped her on her shoulder, and Tav nearly jumped out of her skin.

“Sorry! Didn't mean to scare you.” Tav glanced up, and saw one of her coworkers—Lia—peering down at her. Lia’s long dark hair fell across half her face like a curtain as she tilted her head.

“It's okay,” Tav said, giving a weak smile. “Just jittery at the end of my shift.” “Ooof, I know how that goes. Especially running the register,” Lia said with a sympathetic look. She pressed something into Tav’s hand. “By the way, you left this at the counter.” “Oh. Thanks,” Tav said, automatically. She looked down at the matte black business card. “Are you okay?” Lia asked her. “That guy wasn’t being an arse, was he?” “...he kind of was. But I kind of was, too,” Tav admitted. “Well that sounds like something juicy,” Lia said, raising her brows. “But, I totally understand if you don’t want to share. Just know, I’m sure that whatever he did was waaaay worse than what you could ever do.” “Thanks,” Tav said, and she tried to give her a small smile. She wasn’t sure if she could quite agree with that last statement. “And you know I’m totally down to stalk that guy’s socials for you and drag him for all his embarrassing pics, right?”

Tav managed a shaky laugh. “Thank you, Lia. But it’s alright. Really. Really.” “Okay, then. I better get back out there.” Lia gave her one last look, before turning and leaving the breakroom. And Tav was left to contemplate the business card in her hand. She turned it over, and traced the embossed golden letters, almost wondering if they would rub off at her touch. Enver Gortash.

He didn’t mean anything to her. Not anymore. Not after how far she had come. No, she was in a better place now. She was here. And here, he was just an annoying customer, a blip during her shift. And nothing needed to change.

Tav paused. And shook her head, flicking the business card into the trash can. She whispered her thoughts out loud to herself, as if it were a spell that would stave off the unsettled feeling her in gut.

“...nothing needs to change.”

#fanfic #bg3 fanfiction #enver gortash #gortash fic #durgetash #gortash x durge #Love Comes With Extra Pickles #my writing

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danielsfineart · 2 months ago

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charlytheboss · 2 months ago

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Hair Transplant: Everything You Need to Know About Restoring Hair Confidence

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giftingproducts · 7 days ago

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rigelmejo · 8 months ago

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Okay, after looking a LOT up: Pimsleur said on their official subreddit, that Japanese levels 1-5 have 2500 unique words. I also confused myself a bit earlier today, mixing up Pimsleur with Glossika. Pimsleur lessons generally have LESS vocabulary than some alternatives. Glossika generally has more vocabulary taught than Pimsleur. I am actually using the glossika audio files currently, NOT pimsleur.

My usual conclusions on pimsleur stand though: based on what other pimsleur users said (that the whole course only covers the material Genki 1 has), and that it has around 20 words taught each lesson, with around 2500 words if you do ALL lessons, then its not the particular program i'd choose. Its good if youre a beginner, and intend to do all 5 levels. If you are not a beginner, it may only review words you know. If you're learning on your own, consider how much you study: if you want to learn 2500 words within a certain time frame (like a year) then make sure you complete pimsleur lessons frequently enough to finish the lessons in a year (or whatever your goal is). 2500 words, or Genki 1 and 2 book's 1700 total words (which pimsleur was compared to by a pimsleur user), are useful. But they arent intermediate, theyre words you'll want to learn as a beginner and then PROGRESS TO NEW MATERIAL. Do not dwell on pimsleur for 4 years, if your goal was to learn beginner words in 1-2 years and then move on to intermediate material (but if you are okay with it taking 4 years then of course go through lessons at the pace that works for your goals).

Some information on Glossika Japanese: the current 2024 course has around 6,400 sentences and teaches a bit over 5,000 words. I had this information given to me by an official glossika representative. Unfortunately, they did not know how much vocabulary was taught in the original audio-only Japanese glossika course, which was around half as big. Their current course seems to teach to N4 (maybe N3), as the representative felt a learner could go from the modern course glossika to simple anime like Shirokuma Cafe and learn words from immersion onward. The representative also stated glossika doesnt explicitly explain grammar, so if you are NOT a complete beginner then you'll have more success. Alternatively, if you are a complete beginner, reference a Grammar Guide (tae kims grammar guide, imabi.com, Genki textbooks etc) or use another source for beginner lessons like japanesepod101.com which has explanations. My rough guess would be that old glossika audio lessons taught between 2000-3000 words, because all old courses used the same base english sentences translated, and I remember for most languages that resulted in around 3000 unique words used. So old audio lessons Glossika will teach a bit more vocabulary than pimsleur, and significantly more than pimsleur by around 2000 additional words if you use the new glossika online courses. Increased vocabulary is a plus, but the end result will still be upper beginner/lower intermediate knowledge when you're done. I'd recommend glossika over pimsleur because more vocabulary is great in a language learning product.

FREE OPTIONS:

These are what I actually recommend a learner start with. Because they're free. And they work.

Go on the Hoopla library app, or install Hoopla if you don't have the app yet. Register with one of your library memberships on Hoopla, it will give you access to tons of ebooks and audiobooks to check out. Now find: Japanese 1 Innovative Language. I personally found the audiobooks, Innovative Language has at least 9 levels of lessons from beginner to advanced. Unfortunately, I am having difficulty finding how much vocabulary all their lessons combined teaches. (A lot of language programs call some lessons Advanced when really you're only learning say the 1000-1500 most common words in them, which is still beginner level in terms of knowledge being studied or if you compare to textbook levels or language certification test levels). I am not sure if these lessons are the same as japanesepod101.com, but these lessons are similar, and they have a good amount of explanations so you can get grammar and cultural information as well as vocabulary - this means the course is more in depth than glossika or pimsleur, but it does teach a bit slower as there's more time that english is spoken. If you're a total beginner, or a beginner/lower intermediate learner who is looking for audio lessons with explanations, I recommend these. Theyre free! Theres a ton! Innovative Language also has a TON of lessons in multiple languages on Hoopla app, so browse.

Go to jaoaneseaudiolessons.com. Download the free 36 lessons, the free grammar guide, and the free transcripts. These lessons are FREE, they are made by people who have used stuff like Berlitz and Pimsleur and wanted to improve the method into something they'd find more useful. This site introduced me to the idea of "audio flashcards" audio of english then target language sentences. These lessons arent doing anything wild or new: what they are doing, is lessons like Glossika but with MORE explanation than glossika, and yet less english and less time wasting than stuff like Innovative Language. The biggest pro of this resource: they MADE a grammar guide you can use, they made a transcript so you can have your first reading material, and they made free audio. Ive used their audio lessons: they worked great for me. They worked better for me than Genki did (however Genki remains great for the speaking/writing skills i practiced with it), and helped pull me back into studying japanese. I am not sure how many words it teaches, a detail i wish ALL LANGUAGE LESSONS HAD TO MENTION. But my guess would be at least 1500 words. Their transcript book is 1075 pages, they usually introduce 1-7 new words per page, so on average 4 words, so the upper guess is they teach potentually 4,300 words in the 36 audio lessons. How is that for efficient? Even if these lessons only teach 1500 words (and i suspect the real words taught is probably the normal 2000-3000 of most beginner courses made well), at 36 lessons their lessons clock in as WAY less than Pimsleur or Glossika. These lessons recommend you listen to each lesson 5 times. So each lesson is 30-40 minutes (lets use 40 minutes per lesson), so 36 lessoms is 24 hours of listening material. Listen to each lesson 5 times, and you'll spend 120 hours on these lessons, not including time spent on the grammar guide or transcript. There is another reason i love japaneseaudiolessons.com: they wrote books that teach kanji with 1. Premade mnemonic stories (remember the heisig book expects you to make up your own stories which i found hard) 2. Mnemonic stories for meaning AND pronunciation (many premade mnemonic story resources like anki decks tend to only help with remembering definitions, not pronunciations), 3. Sentence examples to help you remember words, practice seeing them in context, and practice reading. Their books are by FAR my favorite kanji learning books. The kanji learning books do cost money, but i've found them useful and i was glad they existed. You do not need to buy the books, japaneseaudiolessons.com has a TON of free material that should get you through beginner level stuff. But if you, like me, like premade mnemonic stories including remembering pronunciations and example words in sentences, you may find checking out their kanji books is useful.

#rant #resources #japanese resources #japanese audio lessons #glossika #pimsleur #innovative language #japaneseaudiolessons.com

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kristannafever · 2 years ago

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She Ain't Gotta Do Much - 7

Kristanna Modern AU Rated: M WC: 3274

Chapter Index

-----------------

Anna came to interrupt him and Sven about an hour after they started work the next morning. Her face looked apprehensive.

“Kristoff, the CEO from upstairs is requesting a meeting. With you.”

“When?”

“Now.”

Kristoff looked at Sven who was giving him the stink eye. He turned back to Anna. “What’s it about?”

“I don’t know. But I did see Chad walking towards his office not too long ago.” She smiled slightly. “He has two black eyes.”

“Think we’re about to get shit canned?” he asked bluntly.

Anna shrugged. “Honestly, I have no idea.”

“Well, let’s find out. Lead the way, Anna.”

They gave each other an encouraging smile. They had talked about it last night, that if there was fallout from Kristoff’s impulsive self defence, they were going to fight it tooth and nail and expose Chad for the slimeball he truly was.

They climbed the stairs to the floor above and Kristoff left Anna in the lobby when one of the secretary’s announced she would show Kristoff to the CEO’s office. He followed, thinking about how he had briefly rehearsed explaining himself on the drive to work in the morning.

The secretary knocked and they were told to ‘come in’.

As soon as Kristoff entered the office, he was taken aback by the opulence of it. Sure enough, there was a long and sleek gas fireplace mounted into the wall with a full living room set in front of it. The built in book cases were on the wall with the door this time, and between the biggest desk Kristoff had ever seen and the lounge area, was a full twelve-person conference table. Art adorned the walls, as well as many framed certificates, and between many of the books on the shelves sat various shapes and sizes of trophies.

The man certainly liked to flaunt his accomplishments.

Chad happened to be sitting at the head of the conference table, giving Kristoff a satisfied smirk and still managing to look like a dumbass with his two black eyes and swollen nose. Kristoff didn’t think he’d actually tagged him that hard, except the bruises said otherwise.

The CEO, a man who appeared to be in his early sixties, stood when Kristoff approached. He was a little surprised by the stature of the older man. He was a good two inches taller, just as broad and carried about fifty extra pounds. If Kristoff was the type, he might feel intimidated.

The Big Boss walked around the side of the desk and stuck out his hand when Kristoff approached. He shook it, and they both gave each other a respectful and almost imperceptible nod of the head at the near matched hand shake technique.

“I hear you are Kristoff,” said the CEO in a booming voice. “My name is Richard. Have seat.”

Kristoff obliged and took a seat at the far-left side of the four available chairs adjacent the deck, putting Chad sitting at the conference table slightly behind him just barely in his peripheral vision on his right.

“My senior manager Chad here claims that you assaulted him,” Richard began.

“Oh yeah? What else did he tell you?” Kristoff asked, genuinely curious at the tale he wove for his boss.

“Let’s just leave his side out of it until I hear yours.”

Kristoff perceived Chad shifting in his chair and he held back a smile. “Self defence plain and simple. I wasn’t about to let him hit me, so I hit him first.”

The larger man leaned back into his chair and appraised Kristoff for a moment. Perhaps he was trying to be imposing to see if Kristoff was going to say more on the matter. He wasn’t however, unless he was asked to.

“Any why would my senior manager attempt to hit you?” Richard finally asked.

Kristoff gave it to him point blank. “Because I called him and his friend pathetic fucking excuses for men and disgusting degenerate fucks.”

Chad moved in his chair and spoke up. “He did more than that, he-”

Richard held up his hand to Chad, and the idiot shut up immediately. He smiled at Kristoff. “And why would you call them pathetic fucking excuses for men and disgusting degenerate fucks?”

“I wouldn’t dare repeat the vile things they were saying. It involved most of your female staff and some extremely inappropriate things they had the desire of doing to them.”

Richard tapped an index finger on his desk. “Where did this happen?”

“In the elevator,” Kristoff answered, then turned to look at Chad for the first time. “You’re welcome by the way, for holding the door.”

He turned back to the CEO and his eyes were boring into Kristoff, and ever so slowly his mouth contorted in a smile. “Can I ask you something, Kristoff?”

“Yes, sir.”

“What is it that you think Chad said about the encounter? Because I have a feeling you might have an idea.”

Kristoff’s answer was quick. He’d already thought about it. “That it was an unprovoked attack. That he wanted to let you know first before he was going to press charges. I assume he said he will do it on Friday so as not to interfere with the remainder of the work downstairs. The real reason he’s waiting, however, is because he wants the cocaine out of his system, just in case I press my own harassment charges first. Which I never intended to do.”

Richard kept his eyes on Kristoff as he spoke to his employee. “You hear that, Chad. Almost word for word.”

“Sir, I didn’t do cocaine. He approached me and-”

The CEO looked at Chad. “Are you aware we’ve installed cameras to fix that blind spot on the service area parking since that truck was vandalized a couple of months ago?”

“You… what?”

“I was sent a video clip this morning from the security desk downstairs. Shall we take a look?” Richard turned one of his two monitors so that Chad could see it. The angle was off for Kristoff to get a good view, but he didn’t need to watch it. He was there.

Chad moved to get up, looking rather pale. “Sir, listen, I-”

“Sit!” Richard roared.

Kristoff smiled to himself.

The video played, with audio no less, making Chad look like an even bigger asshole than Kristoff had made it sound. After it was over, Richard turned his monitor back into place and Chad couldn’t look anywhere but at the floor.

“Here’s what we are going to do, Chad. You are not going to be pressing any charges, and I am going to arrange for your urine and blood to be tested within the hour. If it comes back with illegal substances, you will be terminated. Or, you can choose to resign right now and take your severance with you. Your choice.”

“Sir, please-”

“Answer now, Chad, while I am still in a generous mood.”

Chad was silent. He swallowed audibly, then spoke in a whisper. “I’ll get that resignation letter to you right away, sir.”

The degenerate skulked away and just as he was at the door, Richard spoke up again. “If you know what’s good for you, don’t put us down as a reference in your job hunting, Chad.”

Kristoff didn’t see any reaction. He just heard the door click quietly shut behind him.

Richard let out a long sigh and returned his attention back to Kristoff. “You know what, Kris? Can I call you Kris?”

“Absolutely, sir.”

Richard gave a dismissive gesture with his hand. “Call me Dick. Everyone else does.”

Kristoff nodded once.

“How do you think I got my start?”

Kristoff shrugged. “With an idea that you built on?”

Dick smiled wide. “You get it, don’t you, Kris?”

“I think so.” Kristoff smiled back.

“I started with nothing,” he said, as he stood and walked around the desk towards the couches by the fireplace. “Built my company from scratch. Started in a rented garage space with barely a cent to my name.”

Kristoff stood and followed, taking a seat on the opposite sofa from Dick.

“How about you, Kris? Your start sound something like that?”

“It sure does. Sven and I have been working extremely hard to get our company off the ground. Been through a lot of lean times.”

“I am all too familiar with lean times,” Dick answered, looking thoughtfully around his office. “It’s how you persevere through them that matters.”

“Sink or swim,” Kristoff agreed, smiling at the words from his Pop and how Anna had uttered the same thing not long ago.

*****

Anna was nervously flitting around Sven trying to help in any way she could while Kristoff was upstairs. It had been a long time. A very, concerning, long time. Sven looked as nervous as she felt.

She’d only met the CEO a hand full of times, and they had been brief encounters. Someone else interviewed and hired her, someone else had promoted her, someone else still had promoted her again, and she’d never actually sat down and had a real conversation with the man who was the head of the entire company.

She had no idea what kind of man he was.

Then her phone dinged with an urgent email and she opened it to see it was an attachment from the CEO with the single line ‘I think you will enjoy this’ and his digital signature. Anna opened it immediately, not even realizing Sven had come to snoop and was looking over her shoulder.

The attachment was a video, and as soon as Anna opened it, she realized it was from the encounter with Chad in the alley. She watched it, smiling and filling with delight to actually see it unfold with her own eyes. Kristoff was just walking out of frame of the video when he walked into the room.

“What are you guys looking at?”

Sven and Anna looked up. “What happened?” they asked, almost in unison.

Kristoff smiled. “Not much. Chad had a change of heart and decided to resign.”

He proceeded to tell them all about the meeting and their conversation afterward. Dick had managed to goad the kinds of things that Chad and his friend had been saying out of him – perhaps to see if it was as bad as Kristoff had deemed it – and Kristoff was blunt but very brief with the truth, feeling even more respect for Dick when he became physically upset and muttered that he was going to put everyone through some harassment and workplace etiquette training and actually apologized on Chad’s behalf. He added he was going to make it a zero-tolerance policy in the workplace as well.

Not only that, they’d talked briefly about Chad’s friend, David, who Dick felt no need to reprimand further since he’d been trying – although feebly – to deter Chad from acting out. Both men agreed that David seemed to get the message and would no doubt be very careful about how he conducted himself in the future.

Then they talked business for a while and Kristoff was given some seriously good advice on things that him and Sven could do to grow their company, which Kristoff told Sven they could discuss on their Friday night beers at the pub.

Then the conversation turned personal, and Kristoff found himself opening up to the CEO. Dick certainly was a charismatic person. He admitted him and Anna were dating, and Dick mentioned to him that he was really proud of how she had been running that floor since she took over for Chad. He even said she might be up for another promotion, which Kristoff didn’t respond to. He knew Anna wouldn’t want to move on anytime soon, and he had a feeling that when push came to shove, Dick would respect the hell out of her decision.

After the intercom on the massive desk buzzed that a scheduled meeting had arrived, Dick walked Kristoff to the door, shook his hand, and commended him and Sven for doing an amazing job getting the work to the lower floor done quickly.

Kristoff had wandered back down to the floor below in a daze, realizing he had a newfound respect for a person he assumed he would dislike upon meeting for the simple fact that he was a while collar CEO of a multi-billion-dollar company.

How wrong a person could be for a world they did not understand.

And what a poor example some could be for the entire industry they represented.

Truly, the book should never be judged by the cover.

Afterward, Kristoff and Sven got back to work and the afternoon seemed to drag by. Time always seemed to move slowly when there was something at the end of it to look forward to, and Kristoff could not wait to get to Anna’s for dinner, even if he did have to finish the quote for Tony.

He knew that Anna wouldn’t mind.

*****

The bedding was changed, the apartment was immaculate, dinner was in the oven, and Anna was anxiously awaiting Kristoff’s arrival.

She’d watched the video of how he dealt with Chad several times. Perhaps a dozen too many. It was such a turn on and Anna would be dammed if she was going to let this quasi date not be counted as an official third, which meant she had every intention of taking that man to bed.

He arrived in his jeans and flannel, smelling like the freshest load of laundry and whatever shampoo he used. Anna kissed him deeply, until he put a gentle stop to it.

“I’m sorry, Anna, I hope it’s okay to work on that quote for Tony a bit before dinner?” He held up a laptop bag with an adorably apologetic look. “I didn’t quite finish it last night.”

She suddenly felt a little bad for trying to make a big deal date on a weeknight. She knew how busy Kristoff was, and she knew that he had a lot to quote after the jobs he’d looked at on top of working all day long to finish their offices.

Kristoff hesitated at her pause. “Or I can do it after dinner?”

Anna smiled at him and how sweet he was. “No, that’s fine, Kristoff! I just kind of forgot how busy you were. I hope I’m not making your evening busier by inviting you over?”

His eyelids dropped and he leaned over to kiss her lips again. “Not at all.”

He left her lips and her body tingled long after.

Kristoff sat at the kitchen table while Anna made a salad and ogled him as much as she wanted with his attention on his work. It was a delightful sight to see him there, and she realized that it wasn’t something she was going to be able to do without on a regular basis.

It was a little frightening how fast she was falling in love with him. But welcome. Oh, so very welcome.

She’d had a relationship with a guy in her office once, and it ended badly. He’d cheated on her with several other women and everyone was laughing about it behind her back. That was when she was new to the company and didn’t understand the world she’d become a part of. Thankfully, there weren’t many of those people left there. They’d either moved on or been fired. Her ex had personally been let go by the CEO and Anna always did wonder what he’d done to warrant that. Perhaps some day she’d get to ask the Big Boss.

After that she was careful who she dated, and everyone she dated was a lesson in what she wasn’t looking for in a man. Which was why Kristoff was such a breath of fresh air.

She’d never met anyone so genuine, wrapped up in the most beautiful, hunkiest, manly shell. Looking at him now, those boot cut jeans and a light sweater, Anna felt a fondness for him she’d felt for no one else. He truly was a special person.

“Shit, do you have a calculator? I forgot mine.”

Kristoff’s voice pulled her from her mind and she smiled. She knew right away he wasn’t talking about any old calculator. He could use the one on his phone if he was. He was talking about an accountant calculator with printing tape, and Anna did indeed have one of those for any time she did work from home.

She went to her little den off the kitchen where she had her office and grabbed it for him. When she set it on the table he looked first at it, then at her, and gave her a wide and knowing smile.

“Thanks, Anna.”

“No problem,” she said, leaning over to kiss his lips.

It was hard not to linger.

Going back to the kitchen, Anna finished dressing the salad and took the chicken and rice casserole out of the oven to cool. Then she poured herself a glass of wine and gave Kristoff a beer. She leaned against the counter watching him, looking from his laptop to the notebook in front of him and putting numbers into the calculator and checking the tape to make sure everything was correct.

He really didn’t have to do anything at all to turn her on apparently.

Which was why it felt so contradictory that her mind decided that this was not the night they would sleep together. He had a lot on his plate, and a lot on his mind no doubt. Not only that, they had been starting extra early all week to get the finishing touches complete so that everyone could move fully into their new offices all day Friday. It was just not the night.

Saturday on the other hand…

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After dinner, which Kristoff raved about, making Anna feel a Michelin star chef – which she was certainly not – she found herself helping Kristoff run through the numbers for Tony’s quote. She had to admit, his system for pricing and estimating the labour was fascinating. It was similar to certain aspects of what her job was when she first started for the company.

When he had it all buttoned up, they shared a bowl of chocolate ice cream while they talked a little more about the certain things Kristoff and the CEO had talked about in their meeting.

Kristoff was trying not to let it show, but he had started to stifle quite a few yawns. He worked so hard it was hard for her to fathom how tired he must be. They were just finishing their conversation when Anna had an idea.

“Hey, about our date on Saturday? Do you have anything planned?” His brow furrowed slightly so Anna clarified. “Like anything set in stone, I mean.”

His face relaxed. “No, nothing that we can’t do some other time. Why?”

Anna smiled. “Because you’ve been working so hard these past few weeks. I was thinking a nice relaxing break is in order. You know, a spa day. For you.”

He smiled back but there was a light grimace behind it. “I’m not really a spa kind of person, Anna.”

She laughed, knowing he was going to say that. “I meant what you like and need kind of spa day.”

An eyebrow came up. “And that would be?”

“Oh, I am going to show you,” she stated. “You leave it to me. Be here at noon.” Then she added, “And pack an overnight bag.”

His face went blank and he blinked at her for a moment. Then his eyes went to her lips and he launched across the table to kiss her.

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#cee wrote this mess #she ain't gotta do much #kristoff #anna #kristanna #kristanna modern au

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