#til death do us part is NOT in the vows

[shardechance]

Can you survive the freak week?

OCT 29: JAWBREAKER OCT 30: CORPSE UNTIL SUNRISE OCT 31: HELL IS A TEENAGE GIRL

by @shardminds and @damedechance

Info

[theexodvs]

Was it going to be an surprise that the guy who nipped my ankles about me moving warm fuzzies, "emotional fulfillment" and other DCOM-tier trash far away from the center of my relationship would also be the same person who's unwilling to commit to his own relationship by marrying his girlfriend?

[francesderwent]

I forgot how fun the Buffyspeak is. it's so fun. guys remember when television used to be fun

[a-god-in-ruins-rises]

"till death do us part" is because, according to christians, there will be no marriage in heaven

[jyumaster21]

This should be every woman’s goal…

[definitelynotleon]

my love for him is truly unconditional

[thedaveandkimmershow]

Beginnings. Endings. And "I do's".

They're tough to avoid thinking about when this year's born witness to the passing of Kimmer's aunt and uncle, Jacquie and Dave, whose story came to its end. The literal 'til death do us part.

From our perch in their lives, it started with the ringing of my phone, of a moment, the last week of last year, when it's Dave on the line.

Later, we discover the reason I got that call's because my cell number's attached to one of the instances of Kimmer's name in his phone's contact list.

So he calls me, let's me know what's up, and I hand the phone over to Kimmer immediately 'cause he's going to the hospital. He doesn't feel right. EMTs are on the way. But. There's an open question about where Jacquie, his wife, Kimmer's aunt, should be as he's her lifeline to the world. He's her last remaining conscious connection in a world largely obscured by her dementia.

Ultimately, a second ambulance is summoned and Jacquie goes to the hospital with Dave where she's set up in her own room. Because of that, because she's entered into the medical system along with her husband, healthcare providers are able to fully comprehend her situation which makes it possible for Jacquie to be placed into the care she needs. The care she's been needing for quite some time, now.

Affording that care, though, is another matter.

Why?

Because she and Dave just barely make too much money to qualify for financial help. And the money that does come in?

Yeah. It isn't enough for this care that she needs.

A few days later, when Dave unexpectedly dies, Jacquie's care is now covered because his income no longer factors into the equation. Jacquie, on her own, meets the criteria for financial assistance.

It's one of those things it's best not to think about too much.

Because it just breaks your heart.

😕

So.

Jacquie goes to the hospital at the same time as Dave because that's the safest call. It's also the best call because she finally has the support she needs at the hospital. And then more support in a rehab facility next door. And then at her memory care home for ten months. And then closer to her son at an adult care home for hospice care during the last mile of her life.

I don't wanna say it all just worked out. I do wanna say that Jacquie going to the hospital with her husband was essential to everything that followed. Not that it wouldn't have landed pretty much that way anyway... it's just how her story actually landed. And what strikes us most about her journey, the decades into which she & Dave breathed life, is that Dave was the last person in Jacquie's life. The one who remained in her conscious awareness until they were placed in separate rooms. He was the one with whom she was proud to share their desert home for the last twenty years... and with whom she shared a life going all the way back to meeting Walt Disney and working at Disneyland and moving from Yakima to L.A. and making this promise:

I do.

Dave was the one who left all those notes and reminders around their home signed "Love, Me". He was the one person she remembered through a long season of forgetting every other person in her life, of no longer recognizing us by name. He was the one person who made her feel safe, with whom she knew she was safe, who was her life line when absolutely everything was uncertain.

He was the one.

To my eyes, their wedding day photographs make them look like a goofy pair of kids dressed up like adults. And maybe that's exactly what they were. Maybe that's exactly what all of us are on that day. Because who really understands "for better or worse, for richer or poorer, 'til death do us part."

Seriously. Who?

Speaking from personal experience, those are words with no context. With no frame of reference. With no experience to back them up.

They're just words.

They're words crafted into an uninformed promise with no concept of its breathtaking scope.

But we all make it never-the-less. And it's still a promise never-the-less. Made once upon a time by two kids who had no idea what their life together would be. Just a sense of what they hoped it would be.

And while there can be intense sadness that overcomes us when the lives of people we know and love come to a close, that sadness doesn't apply to these two goofy kids.

I don't know how else to explain it. But when the moment came that Dave couldn't take care of Jacquie himself, he and Jacquie took that next step together. And what happened after that is simply how his story ended.

And eventually how her story ended.

Beginnings. Endings. "I do's". And 'til death do us part.

Literally.

This year, I think, was the first time we watched a marriage reach its end from this close up.

It was a complicated experience. Sad sometimes but not always. Frustrating sometimes but not always. Good days sometimes but not always. The connective tissue being family and friendship and relationship and compassion and patience and love that provided more color, actually did more to define the experience, even more than sadness and frustration and good days playing Hide & Seek.

And it's those things, those other things, that make the experience meaningful. And us...

Thankful.

[acid-ixx]

a loving family, an unpalatable desire

reblogs and interactions are encouraged and appreciated.

a/n: would anyone hear me out if i ever wrote romantic yan! bruce (ft. platonic yan! batfam AND romantic yan clark kent alongside the superfam ofc) with a neglected spouse reader... because uhm, i've been thinking about it lately just yk... so anyways PLSPLSPLS send in asks about this, ive been thinking about it so much lately.

imagine wanting to raise a family so badly with a man who adopts problem children as a side hustle. you're not some invasive spouse, you've always been good, always been loving, so... so accepting, never questioned where or how he picked them up from the side of the streets, never once complaining about the hickeys on his neck or the once neat tussles of his hair now tangled accompanying lipstick stains on his white suit.

you love your children, you tell yourself all the time. you love them, you love bruce— even if he doesn't love you. you said it in your vows, despite it being scripted, despite your family finally sighing in relief in the sidelines at finally being able to sell you off to one of the wealthiest man in the world, rather than being wasting off under their care— your vows are real.

you wanted someone to love you, unconditionally, so viscerally eternal that it eats you up.

really, all you wanted was to play that fantasy life of trophy house spouses. all you wished for was a loving, healthy relationship. the american dream: the picture perfect family frames, your husband kissing you on the cheek as he leaves for work, your children bickering at the dining room, with the scent of homemade meals wafting about the vicinity. all you wanted was the warmth in your chest to flicker like candlelights. all you dreamed about was that domestic life, an escape from the abusive household you were raised in.

yet the manor is too cold, too unforgiving for a soul such as yours.

the longer you stay inside claustrophobic, yet oh-so large hallways, the quicker you drown in a neverending pool of self-hatred.

but you're not allowed to show them your sufferings. they've been through much worse, you tell yourself. they've suffered more, and as what good spouses do, as what you're taught, you stay silent, enabling them to turn you into their own emotional punching bag.

you only allow yourself to cry at the dead of the night, under the sheets of your too-cold blanket and your too-hot pillows. when the manor is filled with deathly silence and a looming sense of dread and ill fitting thoughts of ifs and when they'll come back in one piece, will you grant yourself temporary respite; worry for a family who never even called you their parent.

yet you've always been so considerate. despite the pang in your chest every time bruce flirts with anymore potential love interest at a gala, you chose to instead monitor your chaotic children, who have always never bat an eye on you despite you always gazing lovingly at them.

you know of their interests, they don't know yours, yet you still give them extravagant gifts on their birthdays, with tired, yet glinting eyes, and a silent excuse to return to your room; one separate from bruce.

you know of bruce's hardships, but you don't push too hard, don't force him to talk, only provide him your silence and an offer to serve him dinner; all the time he refuses without looking at you. you give him comfort only if he ever allows you, only if he allows his walls to crumble— but not even his spouse can amount to a warm, crackling fireplace. to him, you're probably only a matchstick under the deadbeat glaze of the snow in a winter night.

maybe that's why you're such a ghost in the manor, stalking through the hallways, looking out for any of your children in case they come across you with any injuries. maybe that's why eventually your resolve weakened.

and maybe the absence of familial love led you to find comfort in another man's arm.

''til death do us part,' is such a tragic saying in your case, because you know it in your fragile heart that bruce's love for you was never alive in the first place. and yet you allow him to play you like a fiddle, allow him to slowly allow you to slip away from his nonexistent grasp.

and now, you're a stand-in parent for clark's son, jon, after the tragic loss of his wife. now, your world seems a lot less bleaker, as you play the fantasy of a loving house spouse, fully abandoning the life you left behind, a life you've never been gifted with until now. you want to feel guilty, you want to feel absolutely terrible but the heartache of neglect has become too much and all you do was allow clark to warm you up each night, kissing away your tears and spooning your deep-seated anxieties away.

you don't let the past eat you up, not when the present is too perfect, too freeing, too delusionally beautiful.

your son, jon provides you every joy a parent could have. parent's day gifts, heartfelt letters at every nook and cranny of your shared bedroom with clark— even reading him bedtime stories, allowing him to sleep in your lap after he slowly nods off, with clark knocking softly on polished wooden doors, greeting you with a loving kiss on the lips and a bouquet of your favorite flowers in hand—

it's everything a parent wants, needs even.

and you're everything clark, and especially jon wants, needs in their life.

so it's such a stupid mistake, really. a slip of the tongue, a too-enthusiastic smile, incredibly bright, shining eyes. it's not jon's fault, you still love him either way. but it's an error still— one a complicated matter at hand, so dreadful for you, that jon accidentally, all-too-suddenly, mentions you as his parent to damian.

a loving, wonderful parent, he says, with a picture of you in his wallet shoved right in front of his friend's face.

[milky-aeons]

— 'TIL DEATH DO US PART

ᯓ★ starring: dazai osamu, kunikida doppo, atsushi nakajima, chuuya nakahara and fyodor dostoevsky; what they would be like on their wedding day.

warnings: marriage, swearing, alcohol-intake, wife reader, w.c 3.5k

ᯓ★𝐃𝐀𝐙𝐀𝐈 𝐎𝐒𝐀𝐌𝐔

: ̗̀➛ Dazai, who never really acted like a conventional human being, also did not propose like one, either. After dating the enigmatic Armed Detective Agent for, by then, two years, you did not expect him to get down on one knee and produce a beautiful ring, like you had seen in the movies. But you also did not expect him to drop the question like it was a frivolous thing one random Tuesday evening while you both shared a drink at your favourite late-night bar.

Blinking, your glass frozen mid-way to your lips, you turned to him and said, "What did you... just say?" That mischievous smile you were so quick to fall for flashed across his face. "I said, why don't we get married, hmm~?"

: ̗̀➛ There was no other answer in your mind, your heart, than a resounding yes. For he was the thorn in your side as much as he was your other half. Through the whirlwind of months following, you found it hard to discern where one day ended and the next began. Time bled together until you didn't have nearly enough of it, and the day of the ceremony was here. It was a casual affair not bound too tightly by tradition. By the help of the agents, an old, abandoned manor sitting by the riverside had been fashioned into your very own cathedral.

: ̗̀➛ Yosano Akiko fussed over your dress, your hair, your makeup — to a point where you thought she was having way too much fun. And yet, she left no stones unturned, either. As you walked in through the building decorated with bouquets of flowers and rows upon rows of familiar faces, she hooked her arm into yours and walked by your side. Using Thou Shalt Not Die, the doctor instructed fluttering, iridescent butterflies to sit against your dress and your veil, the cornet of your hair, any place she could in order to make you glow.

: ̗̀➛ He stood to his towering height at the alter with his back turned to you in an immaculate suit of white. And when he spun to face you, you fell in love for a second time — with his brunet hair tucked behind his ear, the blue rose pinned to his suit lapel and his eyes; how they watched you. With a type of stunned disbelief that melted into adoration. When you came to stand by his side in front of the pastor, his hand reached down to twine with your fingers, and he whispered;

"You — are absolutely breath-taking."

: ̗̀➛ Kyouka Izumi played the role of ring-bearer, delivering a small white pillow with the two shining bands once it was time to say your vows. Dazai reached out tenderly, slowly, as if to preserve this moment for as long as he could, and lifted the veil from your face. His eyes shuttered. He reached for your hand and slid the smaller band onto your finger, his eyes downcast, his voice low and intimate.

"Through you I have found what it means to love, what it is to feel human, and while I am by your side — I endeavour to protect and earn that title. For as long as I shall live, I am yours. My soul, my name, they are all yours."

: ̗̀➛ As the ceremony reached its closure, when you had both been bound to each other in heart and in soul, Dazai could not wait another moment before he could reach for you. As soon as the words you may kiss the bride left the pastor's lips, Dazai had looped his arms around your waist and bent you back into a dramatic dip. Cheers and claps filled the riverside chapel, you smiled widely against his lips, expecting nothing less of him. Your soulmate. Your husband. Your Osamu, who's name you brandished as your own.

𝐃𝐔𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐀𝐅𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐘 . . .

"Kunikida-kun~!" Dazai's loud voice, a little accentuated with alcohol, swam over the crowd. "Play the thing we talked about!"

Curious, your head turned to the sounds of footsteps shuffling onto the dancefloor illuminated by pale spotlights. The afterparty was in full swing, you had been flanked by a group of well-wishing women when your husband's voice reached your ears. Each of you observed as Dazai, alongside Kunikida, Junichirou, Atsushi and little Kenji took centre stage. Excited murmurs fluttered through the throng.

"What on earth are they doing?" You wondered, and then the starting notes to All The Single Ladies began blaring from the party speakers. Your mouth dropped. Every single one of the Armed Detective Agents began to move in unison to the beat of the music.

And for the third time, you fell in love with him, again. Expecting that there would be many more to come.

ᯓ★𝐊𝐔𝐍𝐈𝐊𝐈𝐃𝐀 𝐃𝐎𝐏𝐏𝐎

: ̗̀➛ Kunikida Doppo, who, at first, had not planned to marry you. After all, you only met twenty out of his proposed fifty-eight requirements that made the perfect wife. That was the thing about your relationship, however — you had come into the agent's life unplanned, uninvited, and turned every one of his rigid ideals up on their heads.

: ̗̀➛ Yet it was only telling of the Idealist and his old habits, how Kunikida went about asking for your hand in marriage. It had been early on a weekday afternoon when he had called you into one of the private meeting rooms of the Agency's office. He'd pushed his glasses up the strong bridge of his nose and laid out his terms. He'd even written a business contract for you to sign. The page had gone flying in the air when you had tackled him from across the table. Smattering a thousand kisses against his blushing, flustered face and breathing the words yes, yes, you silly man, yes!

: ̗̀➛ To concur with both your family's wishes and his own, a traditional wedding was set in motion. Kunikida Doppo was always a man to abide by rules and regulations, but it had occurred to you that perhaps he was taking this affair a little too seriously. For your parents, he gifted them the very traditional shiraga thread. During the sake ceremony, the blond sat ramrod straight, moving mechanically to take sips from the three cups. One for past, one for present, and one for your future. Together.

: ̗̀➛ He was so serious, in fact, that you had become nervous on the morning of your wedding — your most beloved of friends helping you into your garments, trying to soothe your thoughts. What if he doesn't want to marry me? You would whisper as they fashioned your hair up. What if I've forced him into this, what if he's unhappy? To one of your many anxieties, your friend had met your eyes in the mirror, and smiled.

"Oh, honey," She chuckled, leaning down to kiss you on the cheek. "You should see the way that man looks at you."

: ̗̀➛ Her words played in your mind as the traditional music was strung during your procession to meet him. The black colours he donned made his long ponytail appear golden, his body strong, his face even more handsome. As he watched you come down the shrine walkway to be by his side, the blond reached up with one hand to push his glasses away and covered his eyes. It had taken you a few months after to realise that in that moment, Kunikida Doppo had shed a tear.

: ̗̀➛ It was not tradition for vows to be spoken, and yet Kunikida asked to say a few words as the ceremony drew to a close. You watched him carefully as he picked up the microphone, curious at the intentions he had. It was in that moment that your newly wed husband faced the crowd and brought the mic to his lips.

"First, I would like to thank you all for gracing our marriage with both your presence and your blessings. It is something we will see not to squander." "Second, I would like to say some thoughts of mine, if you would all be so inclined. Marriage, to me, was initially an agreement of convenience. I had the perfect woman laid out seamlessly. And in my wife that stands with me today, I say that she is not that perfect woman I so wished to find. But she is everything more. She is my best friend, she is my support, she is the person I go to sleep thinking of and wake up searching for. To me, she is my home, and I will take care of her fiercely."

: ̗̀➛ At your small reception, Kunikida was stolen away from you by some affiliates of the Armed Detective Agency and had his sake cup topped up one too many times. He found you afterwards, and proclaimed both his love and adoration for his newly-betrothed to everyone and anyone that was within a five mile radius.

𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇�� . . .

"Come here," You whispered to him, now in the comfort of your own apartment walls. A considerably uncoordinated Kunikida was struggling out of his Haorihimo, cursing in drunken slurs and promises of retribution to the small sliver of fabric.

Your fingers eased the cloth out from underneath his arms and you began to loosen the knot. Your husband was staring up at you from behind his crooked glasses. He swayed a little, and you stood in front of him, ready to support him if he went toppling forward off the bed.

But then, two strong, solid arms came up to the small of your back and he crushed you against him. Burying his head into your chest, he murmured;

"From the very first day I met you... I loved you. D'ya know that?"

Your heart grew tiny wings in your chest and began to sore. Smiling, you reached up, carding your fingers through his blond locks and undoing the tight ponytail.

"The first day you met me, you told me I was inefficient and lazy, my dear husband." You mused.

He grunted. "Same... thing."

ᯓ★𝐀𝐓𝐒𝐔𝐒𝐇𝐈 𝐍𝐀𝐊𝐀𝐉𝐈𝐌𝐀

: ̗̀➛ Your relationship with Atsushi was one that blossomed slow and tenderly. It was a natural progression, after three years of happy dating, for the agent to ask you to marry him. Everything Atsushi Nakajima did in regards to showing his affection for you was always timid and reserved — you never expected it; the elaborate surprise he had waiting in store for you that morning you came into the Agency's offices just like you always did.

: ̗̀➛ Well, perhaps he had a little help from the other agents, for the office was barren when you entered. Your eyebrows had creased at the very uncharacteristic quiet of the usually chaotic area you worked in. You had checked the time, wondering if you had showed up a little too early on accident. But then, there was a voice — the voice of agent Dazai Osamu, shouting at you to come to the nearest window and to do so urgently—!

Each of the agents stood at the sidewalk, all holding up a sign with different characters that made up a whole sentence. A question. And Atsushi — your sweet, kind, caring Atsushi, was perched in the middle, the biggest bouquet of roses in his sheepish hands. Will you marry me?

: ̗̀➛ Both you and Atsushi decide to get married somewhere far removed from the city skyline of Yokohama. You wanted somewhere special to remember this day, and perhaps, the great outdoors and stretching greens spoke to Atsushi's beastly side a little more, too. So you chose the heart of a nearby woodland where a great, ancient willow tree served as your alter.

: ̗̀➛ Atsushi wore a suit of sky-blue. You wore a simple slip dress decorated with accents of lace and flowers, Kenji had twined some wildflowers into your hair. The fauna of the forest acted as your choir when you walked down the small trail of brambles to your soon-to-be husband who waited at the base of the winding trunk.

: ̗̀➛ The reception was held in a greenhouse funded by the Agency's private books — you and Atsushi were members, after all, so Kunikida took a little less persuading than usual to move his ledgers around. For lunch, you served chazuke, and when you took the first dance, Atsushi's eyes appeared more gold than they were violet as they looked at you so lovingly the whole time.

𝐔𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐍𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐇 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐒 . . .

"Atsushi, they'll notice that we're gone." You giggled, bunching your dress up so you could step over the little bush of thickets. When you both reached the winding roots of the willow tree you promised yourselves to each other underneath, Atsushi transformed his arms and legs into their tiger equivalents.

"Dazai-san said he'd keep everyone entertained." He whispered, and then stepped forward to wrap his soft arms around you. "Are you ready?"

"It may be a little late for second thoughts." You teased, but looped your arms around his slender neck and relaxed into his hold. The new golden band on your finger glinted in the moonlight.

And using that tiger-strength, Atsushi dug his claws into the ancient tree bark and began to climb. Higher and higher until you both broke through the canopy cover and could look to the millions of stars winking at you overhead.

"Oh, Atsushi." You breathed in awe, taking in the wonders above. "Oh, it's beautiful."

Your husband nuzzled into your hair and whispered, "Each one represents all the lifetimes I'd still find and fall in love with you in."

ᯓ★𝐂𝐇𝐔𝐔𝐘𝐀 𝐍𝐀𝐊𝐀𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀

: ̗̀➛ It had initially been you and your General lover's plan to keep your engagement quiet and have a small affair away from town. Just the two of you, because Chuuya thought some of his colleagues were insufferable pains in his ass, and all hell would break loose if they were to figure out they had a wedding plan on their hands. It was, however, unfortunate, that you two had been discussing what type of ceremony you'd like to have when Hirotsu was just about to turn one of the corners. It took exactly one hour for the entire Port Mafia to know. Two for it to reach the Armed Detective Agency.

: ̗̀➛ It was no longer a personal affair. This wedding became a spectacle within the Mafia's ranks. From the lowest levels all the way to the boss himself, everyone was abuzz with ideas and anticipation, excited that one of their top brass was getting married and they could all take advantage of the time off to have a grand party. Chuuya threatened to resign several times, you always laughed at how excited the entire criminal organisation became at the prospect of celebration.

: ̗̀➛ True to the boss' word, you and Chuuya's wedding was held in one of the grandest churches Yokohama had to offer — having mysteriously skipped the two year waiting list. The building was laved in gold and stain glass windows. Chuuya wore a fine suit of blood-red and a black tie that contrasted with his wild curls, his hard blue eyes. But when they saw you come down the aisle, they softened, and when he said his vows to you, you never thought anyone would look at you with such adoration ever again.

: ̗̀➛ The main event was held in the bowels of the Port Mafia — one of the largest show-rooms this organisation had to offer, with chandeliers hanging from the ceilings and a private band playing any songs they were requested. Chuuya, for the majority of your reception, could not seem to keep his hands off of you. If you were not by his hip, his eyes would instantly go searching for you within the throng of party-goers. When he did find you, he would place a hand to the small of your back, he'd lean in to kiss you and say;

"There you are, my wife."

: ̗̀➛ There was another reason as to why Chuuya Nakahara was originally so hellbent on taking your wedding somewhere more quiet and peaceful. And it came in the form of a brunet ex-partner waltzing into the organisation's party, a broad simper on his infuriating face. Dazai Osamu took your hand and kissed the back of it, extending his deepest sympathies and that if you ever needed to blow off steam, he could give you his number.

: ̗̀➛ The Port Mafia ballroom had originally started off with three grand chandeliers. After Dazai had purred those taunting words, there was then, only two.

: ̗̀➛ After the many shards had been swept from the floor by a cleaning crew, the private band struck an up-beat quartet. Both you and your newly-wed husband took to the floor for the first dance. Chuuya's hand splayed protectively against your back, his other gloved palm slotting into yours and guiding you to twirl, skip, spin.

𝐇𝐎𝐋𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐂𝐋𝐎𝐒𝐄 . . .

"Shit, sorry." He grumbled when your foreheads were touching, the proximity sending his breath fanning across your cheeks. His pointy canines were jutting against his bottom lip. "That motherfucker — he just makes me see red."

"Hey, it's okay." You said, catching his eyes. "Because I love you. You, Nakahara. I am all yours and no one else's."

Those words touched something deep within this man's chest. Of course, the proof that you were his sat in the form of two stacked rings on your left hand, but to hear it. To look into your beautiful eyes and see the amount of love there.

He surprised you by reaching down to your hips and lifting you up, twirling you around, around, around.

"And I'm forever yours, babydoll."

ᯓ★𝐅𝐘𝐎𝐃𝐎𝐑 𝐃𝐎𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐄𝐕𝐒𝐊𝐘

: ̗̀➛ The initial letter you received from Fyodor asking for your hand in marriage — originally, you believed it to be fake. A shallow joke from someone who knew of you and the mastermind's occasional on-and-off relationship whenever he returned to your homeland. But as you traced the delicate loops of the handwriting that looked so much like his own, in the intimate moonlight beams of late night — you'd let yourself imagine. Hope. Only for it to swell and dwindle like ashes of a flame. Because there was just no way he would ask to marry you. That he would marry, at all.

: ̗̀➛ It was fitting then; how palpable your shock was when the slender, pale man you had accidentally fallen in love with — like a fool — was standing on the other side of your door that early morning. You had blinked hard, rubbed your eyes, wondered if you were weary from too many sleepless nights. When the stars had cleared from your vision, he was still there. An amused little smile stretched against his lips.

"So? Are you ready to get married?" You stared at him. And stared. And then dropped your morning cup of coffee onto the tiles of your hallway.

: ̗̀➛ At the news of your sudden betrothal, your family were both elated with a healthy dose of scepticism. Who is this man you are intending to marry, they fluttered around you with questions when you broke the news. Fyodor? I've never heard you speak of him, why do you intend to marry this man, girl? At that, you had smiled, not bothering to hide the small heat of blush on your ears, and murmured;

"Because he's a thief, and he stole my heart a very long time ago."

: ̗̀➛ The wedding was held in an old cathedral of gothic architecture. You don't think you've ever seen Fyodor look so refined; standing there in his simple suit of stone-grey with a black shirt. He had his hair tucked behind his ears, his eyebags were a little less pronounced, his skin brighter — but perhaps that was just the early-morning light. When you stood before your husband to-be and handed your heart over to him, for him, there was a shift in his eyes. You could not explain it, but you knew it ran deep. You knew that in his own way, he was also handing himself over to you. And you would accept all of him, just like you accepted his name.

: ̗̀➛ Much to the dismay of your family, you did not hold a wedding reception after the ceremony, but that was only because Fyodor decided to walk with you through the freezing streets of Moscow. He held your hand, and even though on many nights where you lay together he was stone-cold, today, he felt warm.

𝐇𝐎𝐋𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐃 . . .

"Fyodor?"

"Hmm?" He answered, noticing the sheepish tone in your voice. You looked up at him with those big doe eyes.

"Why did you ask to marry me?"

Fyodor held your gaze for a long, pregnant second. It was at that moment that a single flake of snow fluttered down from the grey sky and landed on his immaculate suit. Then another. Each one the same colour as your dress, each one different to the rest.

Fyodor held out his hand to catch them. "Why does the snow fall? Because it is natural. It is meant to be. I married you because it is the way I wish to fall. With you, by my side."

requested by the lovely [ @cocodrilofeliz! ]

[vonne-inc]

product: yandere husband.

gender neutral reader. mainly fluff. yandere-ish (a little).

yandere husband, who met you a few months after your high-school graduation. being a barista at his parent's cafe and seeing you walk up to the counter. oh, how he immediately fell in love with you. he found you beautiful— no, more than beautiful; glorious, angelic, heavenly.. there were too many words to describe you. he knew you were perfect.

yandere husband, leaving his number on the receipt taped to your to-go drink. he watched as you glanced at the writing while walking out the door. your eyes met his, smiling as you held your phone in your palm. his heart raced with nervousness. his phone buzzed as it showed a text message from an unknown number. when he lifted his head, you were gone. he was happy, elated even.

yandere husband, at work or at home texted you any moment he could. he really liked you— you were just so fun and interesting! he couldn't get enough of you, and you could get enough of him.

yandere husband, after a few dates and flirty conversations, you started dating him. his obsessive and possessiveness didn't start until your first i love you's. only then did he realize that he needed your touch, your voice, your presence, all of you. he needed you, only you.

yandere husband, after two years of dating him, fully comfortable and accustomed to each other, he's asking if you'd ever want to get married. after months of talking and questions, hinting at the idea, he finally proposes. on one knee as you're in bed while the early sun shines through the curtains. it was a beautiful scene for your eyes.

yandere husband, who is smiling from ear to ear once you say yes, pulling you into a long, loving kiss. now he can plan his next moves to have you all for himself, forever.

yandere husband, smiling brightly as he watches you walking down the aisle. your attire fitting you perfectly, it was divine on you. he could feel himself falling in love with you all over again.

yandere husband, who said his vows, holding your hands as he repeated the rehearsed words he spent months on writing. there were too many things for him to say, words couldn't describe how you made him feel. the love you brought him were beyond description— you were ineffable, intangible, unutterable. he'd do anything for you; go through any suffering or pain for you. he'd even kill for you, if it came down to it. once he'd end his speech, kissing your knuckles, he'd listen to your vows with a loving smile.

yandere husband, as soon as he was able to, he pulled you in close as he cupped your cheek and kissed your lips. a short yet eternal kiss that made him feel like the luckiest man on earth. parting, he held his lips near your ear, whispering, "'til death do us part."

yandere husband, once the wedding was over, he carried you to your shared hotel suite. immediately climbing into bed with you, smiling widely as he peppers you in kisses. you stay in his arms during the night, comfortably sleeping in his embrace after the long and overdrawn day. he adores your sleeping figure, keeping himself as still as possible as to not wake you. oh, how he can't wait to spend the rest of forever with you. "you're mine and i'm yours, my love. forever and always."

[littlelamy]

s1jj x kook!reader ; the one where you take care of his wounds

"hey, hey, easy there," jj murmurs, his voice low and rough as he gently swats your hand away from his battered face. a sharp hiss escapes his lips as you carefully dab the alcohol-soaked pad over one of his cuts.

"sorry, baby," you pout, leaning in to peck his chapped lips. "next time you need rescuing, i’ll handle it—not your dad," you assure him. jj’s gaze softens, a proud smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"look at my little kook princess," he says, his hands cupping your cheeks, his thumbs brushing your flushed skin. "ready to fight for daddy, huh?" he chuckles, the nickname making your cheeks burn hotter.

"i’m serious, jay," you whisper, grabbing his hands and holding them tight. "you can stay here with me until we head back to the cut," you offer, your voice trembling with emotion. jj smiles, but there’s a sadness behind it.

"or," you add, your voice dropping to a teasing whisper, "you can sleep in bed with me, like you did before this whole royal merchant chase." jj’s hands slide down your sides, gripping your waist possessively, his touch sending shivers down your spine.

"princess," he murmurs, his grip tightening just enough to make your heart race. "the royal merchant is the only way i can give you the life you deserve." his hands move lower, massaging your waist, his touch firm but tender. "i want to travel with you, show you the best beaches, islands, waves…i want to give it all to you."

tears blur your vision as his words sink in, the depth of his love overwhelming you. "we’ll get the gold," you whisper, pressing kisses to his face, careful to avoid his wounds. "and then you can take me anywhere, jj."

"anywhere you want, princess," he promises, sealing his vow with a slow, passioniate kiss that leaves you breathless.

"til death do us part," you murmur against his lips, the world fading away as you lose yourself in his embrace.

"til death do us part, baby," he echoes, pulling you closer, his kiss deepening with every passing second.

[amid-fandoms]

"i feel like vow renewals are a sign of a doomed marriage"

dan said til death do us part. period

[yanderefics-recs]

Yandere/Dark! Cheaters Recs

for the readers who loves angst, groveling, and some spice like me <3

as of December 2023

The Unsaid Vow by @laughing-with-god (patreon/tumblr) (ongoing)

Remarks: you are married to Jungkook and you have a kid together. You suspect him of cheating however and when you try to leave he gets triggered

A Bird In A Gilded Cage by JUNMAK0 (ao3) (finished)

Remarks: your soulmate, Ushijima, has trust issues due to your past life and was initially not excited to meet you. Still, you grow to be in love but trouble ensues. (just when you think ushijima is healing he swerves around to the other side)

Yandere!Cheater hcs by @hyerinrose

brief sypnosis: a fun oc by hyeinrose

Hoax by @moonlitinks (tumblr) (ongoing)

Remarks: you're in an arranged marriage with ari levinson who has some prejudice about you and is repulsed by you (this one gets pretty dark in the beginning but lightens up as it progresses)

When you found out they cheated on you (hyung line) and (maknae line) by @wildestdreamsblog

Remarks: title is pretty self explanatory

When you tried to move on from them (hyung line) and (maknae line) by @wildestdreamsblog

brief sypnosis: a continuation of "when you found out they cheated on you" (groveling ensues 😈)

Yandere!Hero x Reincarnated!Reader by @bunny-yan

Remarks: the hero and reader are childhood lovers but it's not a cute story wherein they get to be together after the hero's job. The angst reoccurs in lifetimes (the concept of this one is pretty unique so i rlly recommend giving it a read :>)

Where did you go?, pt 2 by @ishouldbeinh0rnyjail

Remarks: gojo satoru got caught cheating by you and went insane trying to get you back (this one was delicious)

Fuckboy! Maknae line trying to convince you to stay by @yandere-society

Remarks: fun drabble! these men are toxic and assholes but it's kinda hot and they say they love you so... 😝

Man In The Mirror, pt 2 by Momo-chan (Quotev)

Remarks: another very unique concept! It's about you being in a loveless arranged marriage but you meet another you in a mirror that leads to a parallel universe

Superbia by alissabex (wattpad) (oneshot)

Remarks: good lord this one is memorable! Every now and then i come back to that oneshot. It's pretty long too so pretty satisfying!

Til Death Do Us Part by ASumOfWords (ao3) (oneshot)

Remarks: THIS ONE HITS EVERY FUCKING SPOT IM NOT KIDDING!!! I was in a particularly darker mood for this one sooooo yeah. Dark!Aemond hides his grief of losing his wife (aka you leaving his ass) underneath his anger. Lowkey wish there'd be more of his feelings in the piece but the author does pretty well with leaving it to the imagination

[raven-cincaide]

 ‘Best Friend’ Kisses 

Summary: The three times you and Yuji kiss all happen during different stages of your lives, different times and have inherently different meanings, from the awkward ‘first kiss’ as middle schoolers to a surprise reunion smooch. Although, you don’t know what to make of the last one. 

Pairing: fem! Reader x (Best friend) Itadori Yuji Sweetober prompt 2: Best friends  WC: 2.4 KWarnings: Fluff, minors (innocent!) kissing, did I mention fluff?

To say that you and Yuji were close would be like saying ‘water is wet’ or ‘ice is cold’- it's something that everyone who had seen you grow up knew; you two were always in each other's lives- day in and day out you’d hang out together. If you were there, then Yuji would undoubtedly be somewhere close by. It was like you two were bound by an invisible force which told you where the other was. A force that always seemed to bring you two together. Your teachers would sometimes laugh that you were ‘held together by a red string of fate’ while your parents always reminded you two to get married at a respectable time and not forget to send them an invite to the wedding. 

Truth be told, it felt so perfect and surreal. Like your entire life plan was laid out perfectly in your lap: study together until college, get a degree, then you would work at a company for a few years to build up a resume and some cash before settling down somewhere on the outskirts of Tokyo. Maybe even in the more green village-like areas where you’d build your perfect future together. Yuji would be a P.E. teacher at some local high school, and you would be either an English teacher or a writer, depending on which profession took off first. You’d build a family together; Yuji wanted three kids at least. You wanted one, so you compromised on two and filled the last spot with a pet of his choice. 

Thus, the first time you two kissed was related to that grand life plan. The life plan that you two came up with during recess in middle school. Although it was a gorgeous day, nice and warm and perfect to be outside, both of you lazied about in the school library, sitting on the soft chairs in the very corner of the room commonly known as the ‘silent reading corner’, surrounded only by a handful of usual-ignored-older computers and heavy bookshelves. There was no one in the school's library besides the two of you and an old librarian checking in new books somewhere in the second room, well out of sight. The other kids were out kicking ball between each other or up to some other type of mischief, but you felt down and tired and settled for the more comfortable indoors. And expectedly and without question, Yuji joined you, sitting in the familiar seat beside you. 

“Let’s kiss on it!” The young pink-haired boy exclaimed as he spun another round on the well-used computer chair beside you. “You know, to seal the deal. As they do at weddings in front of the pastor, so it’s a deal for life.” 

You peer up at him from your spot, where half of you lay half sprawled out on the desk, head rested on top of your folded arms. “I think it’s the vow before the kiss that makes it, you know, ‘til death do us part’ thingy.” 

“Oh.. well, let's do it anyway; that way, we won’t forget it until we get married!” Yuji shifted closer; his lips widening into a wide grin as though he had just won a whole cake.  

“I swear you just want a kiss”, you mumbled, but don’t shove him away. You stayed perfectly still, just staring at him with huge eyes, as he leaned closer until you felt a tiny pressure on your lips, a shaky warmth that disappeared as quickly as it came. A second passed, and you two stared at each other in utter silence before you flew away, faces dark red, as you heard the librarian walk in to remind you to get back to class. 

You had to admit you don’t remember much of that kiss. 

But you do remember the sudden shyness that followed and how yours and Yuji’s cheeks would blossom into dark red blush whenever you looked at each other after that- a fact that made the other kids tease you the hell out of you two. 

It was an awkward kiss that, for a long time, made you worried you would lose Yuji. That he wouldn’t want to be friends with you because you were a bad kisser- and unknowingly to you, he felt the same. Thus, you two didn’t kiss more times in middle school. 

The second time you and Yuji kissed was during your first year of high school, right after summer break. The two of you sat, sprawled out in the shadows of the high school bleachers from one side and the overgrown bushes from the other—a perfect little obscured space for anyone who didn’t want to be seen. But still wanted to have a good view of the sports area with the bright green football field, an area for throwing balls, spears, high and low jumps and other activities you didn’t even know existed. 

The football tryouts had just finished, yet there were still a few hours left until the cheerleading tryouts started. Yuji had wanted to only show up to your tryouts. Still, an old classmate practically begged him to join for football tryouts as company, completely forgetting that since last semester Yuji hit puberty and not only shot up like a beam but also grew strength and muscle like a gorilla. Effectively impressing the P.E teacher who wanted nothing more than to sink his claws into your horror-loving, more-of-a-bookworm-than-sports-guy Yuji. 

So now you had no choice but to hide in the shadowy part of the field, sitting on Yuji’s sweatshirt in your bright blue cheerleader uniform, sipping on a milkshake and Yuji in his barely sweaty jeans and t-shirt, right beside you, chugging down a Gatorade. 

“How quickly do you wanna get married?” 

Your eyes flickered to Yuji as he peered at you through pink bangs. The second he caught your eye, though, he turned away, his face unmistakably red. His lips were still wrapped around the neck of the bottle. He was a mix of cool-casual as if he had just asked how long you had until class, but also so obviously fidgety and nervous that you found him totally cute. Absolutely adorable, and something else you refused to admit about your best friend. But there was also something else in his expression, and you quickly recognised the question for what it was: a distraction. Something to keep his mind occupied on anything other than his sick grandpa. 

‘So bad, huh?’ you wanted to comfort him in the only way he would accept- by answering his half-metaphorical question: “Hmm, maybe during or straight after Uni? I heard there are some perks with getting housing if you’re a young married couple,” You mused aloud, trying to keep the tears out of your voice. 

“We should kiss on that, You know, to seal the deal..” you paused mid-sip of your cherry-flavoured milkshake, sensing an air of nervousness settled between you. You bite your lips, a part of you were uncertain and nervous. You weren’t children anymore, and a kiss at your age would have all sorts of implications. 

But you could also see his need for a distraction, could see how tense his shoulders were and how desperately he gripped the Gatorade bottle. He was afraid, you realised, afraid to be completely alone once his grandpa passed. You still had your parents, but Yuji would have no one. He was afraid you’d leave him too. 

“I swear you just want a kiss” You could practically hear him sob in relief as he spun around to face you; the childhood reply from all these years ago brought him unimaginable relief.

This time it was not a shy and quick press of the lips- it was more desperate. He pressed his lips to yours firmly and moved them against yours as if he were trying to get closer or eat you alive. You weren’t sure.  Teenaged hormones raged- an unexplainable tension between you two as your lips and spit, and tongue met each other over and over again. 

This time, there was a lot more exploring now, tasting, feeling. 

The taste of Yuji and the puckishly sweet-synthetic taste of post-practice Gatorade cut through the sweet flavour of a cheery milkshake on your tongue. The warmth of his hands on your body, the feel of his chest under your hands. How much he had changed seemingly overnight from a soft and squishy boy into a brick of solid muscle hidden underneath hoodies and loose-fitted jeans. 

You gasped as he pushed you down into lying and broke the kiss to stare at him. His pupils were blown wide, almost manic. One leg was planted on the ground, the second was frozen in the air mid-saddling your waist, as if he had just realized what he was doing. His blush caught up with him, and he cleared his throat awkwardly, not sure what to do. “D-Do y-you wanna stop?” 

You heard the unmistakable whistle from the tryouts just meters away, and it was as if a dose of reality had finally broken through your haze. What were you two doing in broad daylight too? “Y-yeah, definitely not here” You don’t miss the disappointment on Yuji’s face as he scrambled off of you and helpd you up. 

Thinking back, you wondered if things would have been different if you hadn’t said ‘yes’ that time- if you hadn’t stopped and instead urged him on the way every fibre of your being screamed at you too. Would Yuji have stayed in your high school? Or would he have transferred out of there the very next day with no warning and no goodbye? Not even a chance for you to say your condolences to him, or mourn his grandfather's death, who was like your own grandfather? Or would it have ultimately not mattered? 

The third time you and Yuji kissed was days before the university started. It was sunny and warm as you waited near rebuilt Shinjuku station for your friends for a much-needed shopping spree. The university started almost two weeks later than your high school after the summer break and the day coincided with the last time you saw Yuji. Although there was still a feeling of anger, much of it was replaced by melancholy and a sense of betrayal. You wished Yuji would explain the simple ‘why’- you swore you would have understood. 

But he never did, and despite frequent texting, you always turned down his request to meet up.

You were bitter, not only for having lost your best friend but also because he ruined the plan. The perfectly perfect life plan you both had created in middle school came crashing down without warning, leaving you alone to pick up the pieces. You were still bitter about being left behind- replaced like a pair of gloves and so stubbornly angry that you didn’t even notice Yuji screaming your name until he was just a few feet away. 

You glanced up, and the next thing you knew, he was on you. His arms came to wrap around your waist, and he spun you around and around, your face buried in the crook of your neck like in all those post-war veteran coming-home pictures. You noticed he looked older, more worn out than his twenties, like he had been through hell and back again. “Y-yuji?!-” You didn’t even finish your sentence as his lips were suddenly on yours. A desperate plea and apology all poured into that one kiss. 

You froze. Your body grew rigid in his arms; you thought your love had cooled, and yet there were sparks between you- no, wait, there WERE actual blue sparks around you. You tore yourself away from his lips, ignoring his sulking pout, as you stared at the specks of blue around you in shock and awe.

“You can see that?” An unfamiliar voice spoke up, and you turned to face a dark-haired man standing beside a brown-haired woman. Between them was something that you could only describe as a black-and-white demon dog of sorts. It’s horrifying and cute all at once. Although its proportions feel all wrong, there was something like a third eye in the middle of its forehead surrounded by a red mark in its forehead that didn’t look like a mere paint job.

 “And you see him?” the woman asks, pointing a long finger at the animal.

You nodded slowly, your gaze flickered between the reminisce of blue specks and the puppy, and then you returned to the unfamiliar duo. 

“Then it’s all good, right? Fushiguro? Kugisaki? We call tell her, right?” Yuji exclaimed, his voice an obnoxiously loud cheer that only piped down once you pressed your hands against his shoulders in a silent demand to be set back down on the ground. 

Instantly Yuji’s eyes, puppy dog expression and disappointed pout stared up at you. You didn’t smile or laugh back at him, in fact, you didn’t even know whether you wanted to know whatever that ‘all’ was. You just felt uneasy and awkward in your best friend's embrace after two years of absence, or maybe it was the way he looked much older than when you last saw him, like he had been to hell and back several times over? He didn’t look your age- he looked almost a decade older. Or was it something else that brought an unmistakable bad feeling in the pit of your stomach. Like you wanted to get the fuck away from there before you were dragged into something you didn’t want to be a part of. 

“Oy why is it so important for you to make her a sorcerer anyway?” the woman crossed her arms over her chest, seizing you and your still stunned expression, up and down as if judging your entire worth in that mili-second. 

“Because she’s my best friend of course!” Yuji exclaimed, throwing his arm around your shoulders to keep you from collapsing from the onslaught of emotion you felt at that moment. 

From anger and betrayal to curiosity and the unmistakable fear as the dio inched closer to you while Yuji kept you still in one place. But most importantly, the unmistakable pang of pain that came with being called ‘his best friend’. It reminded you once again that a kiss for Yuji was just a way to greet someone, like a personalised handshake or a first bump. It meant nothing, and you were a total fool to become so affected by it. To still hope against hope that your life plan could be salvaged. It was foolish because you were the only one to feel that way, 

Or so you thought.  

Author note: This is a republish of the fic from like 3 days ago, but still I just thought it could be a pre-university Yuji fic, or maybe a hdc . What do you think?

Main |Raven | Rules and Requests | Masterlist | Other

All fics are unique works by ©ravencincaide 2024. Do not copy/repost/translate or spread my work(s) without my explicit permission. If you see any of my work(s) reworked/reposted/copied anywhere, please inform me!

[orphiclovers]

Let me put on my brand new, just-out-of-the-packaging, never before used joongdok googles for a second.

You know how Gong Pildu officiated Yoo Joonghyuk's and Lee Seolhwa's wedding in the 0th round right. and. Kim Dokja's and Yoo Joonghyuk's story is called 'Life and Death' companions, which is like the continuation of the phrase they say at weddings - 'til death do us part' - only, death will not do us part, we will be companions in it too. and. this name for their story comes from Gong Pildu asking Kim Dokja what's his relationship to Yoo Joonghyuk when they have spoken exactly once before, and Kim Dokja facetiously saying 'we are companions who have gone through life and death' but it just becomes true later.

something something tell Gong Pildu your wedding vows. The universe will ensure they come true.

[jungkwok]

honeymoon | jjk fluff oneshot

╔═══════════════════ஓ๑♡๑ஓ═════════════════╗

pairing: jungkook x y/n

tags: husband!jungkook x wife!reader,, fluff &lt;;3, it's your first day after your wedding, tattoos

word count: 252 words

╚═══════════════════ஓ๑♡๑ஓ═════════════════╝

The warm sunlight filters through the translucent, flowing curtains as you slowly open your eyes. Trying to prop yourself up on the bed, you realise that the comfortable weight around your torso was not pillows but your husband’s arm. Subconsciously, you reach out to touch Jungkook’s tattoos, swirling your finger to trace the black lining of the colourful ink that adorned his skin.

You remember months ago, before your surnames became one, when you would lie down in his bedroom, hair damp from showering together, and he would explain the meanings of all of his tattoos. You knew the stories off by heart like every inch of his skin, his scent, the curve of his nose, the feeling of his hand intertwined in yours, his voice against your ear. His long eyelashes flutter open to meet your soft gaze.

“Good morning love,” he says, voice deep and husky from the morning.

“Good morning,” you respond, entangling your fingers in his hair and brushing through his curls. 

Jungkook reaches out for your left hand, grinning in satisfaction as he rubs small circles on your fourth finger, now embellished with your wedding ring. Doing the same, you take his left hand and touch his own ring, smiling as you remember your wedding yesterday: the aisle, the flowers, the laughter, the kiss, his vows. 

And just like the tattoos on his skin and your endless adoration for this man who smiles in your arms, your love will live on forever, ‘til death do us part.