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amjustagirl · 1 month

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title: to rebuild a home pairing: kuroo x f! reader genre: angst / fluff, post timeskip! wc: 6.8k m.list

a/n: companion piece to the original love knows not its depth, from kuroo's perspective.

Kuroo Tetsuro is doing alright.

He’s deftly juggling the roles life has handed him. His tenth wedding anniversary is coming up. He’s gotten a nice pair of earrings and a reservation at Tokyo’s hottest omakase for you to celebrate. The girls are doing nicely at school - Aiko’s grades are excellent, and Fumiko’s not gotten into any schoolyard fights unlike Bokuto’s trio of sons. His bosses seem happy with him too, paving the way for him to climb the corporate ladder rung by rung. He’s earned each promotion by burning days in the office, nights in the izakayas schmoozing with his bosses, but it’s worth it, even if it admittedly comes at the expense of being with you and the girls.

It’s a sacrifice he has to make so he can provide you with the fairytale life he’s always promised you. Not that you’ve ever complained about the trade-off.

“She’s the best wife and mom I could’ve asked for”, he tells Kenma, when the former setter asks about you. “I don’t know how she does it.”

Kenma frowns. “You make her sound like a video game character.”

“That’s cos she’s amazing -”

“Kinda sucks that she pretty much has to juggle a full time job and the kids on her own most of the time.”

“She manages perfectly well”, Kuroo enthuses, oblivious to the barb in his friend’s words. “By the time I get home, the girls are in bed, the house is clean, and there’s even a lunch box packed for me each day. She’s a rockstar at work too - should be up for a promotion next financial year.”

“Huh”, Kenma sniffs. “I wonder when she gets a break.”

Kuroo’s too distracted by the round of beers that’s delivered to his table to think deeply about his best friend’s apprehension. When he stumbles through the front door that night, he finds you crouched over the coffee table, frantically typing at your laptop. As expected, the girls are in bed, there’s nothing out of place.

“All good?” he asks you in passing, his mind already filing the tasks on his plate for tomorrow - organising a publicity event jointly held by the JVA and Bouncing Ball Corporation to introduce new national team members, reviewing the proposed budget for this year’s international competitions, popping by the under-19 team to see if there are indeed any promising candidates - he’s already one foot in the bedroom, ready to call it a night.

He doesn’t notice the violets blooming under your eyes.

“Mm.” You don’t look up. “Have a good night.”

Kruoo Tetsuro thinks he’s doing alright.

Bokuto Kotaro, for some reason, doesn’t think so. “Mitsuki said you’re lucky you’re not married to her cos she’ll skin you alive”, he informs him, as if Kuroo shares his love for women capable of chomping his head off in one bite.

Maybe the Bokutos operate on a different metric - because yes, they’re the model of egalitarianism with Mitsuki the high powered general counsel for Kenma’s Bouncing Ball Corporation (based on his referral, he likes to add, cos’ it’s funny to watch Mitsuki growl) and Kotaro the part time coach, full time stay at home dad to his wolfpack of sons, but that doesn’t mean his marriage is on the rocks.

As a child, he was the unwitting witness to his parents’ fights, which culminated in his mother walking out of the door, his father crying over a thick stack of divorce papers. His grandparents took him in, gave him stability and love and comfort but he swore to himself he’s never going to put his daughters through that.

Sure, it’s been a while since you’ve had a night to yourself. The last time he remembers you taking time away from the girls was to go out for dinner with him to celebrate his latest promotion - his conscience stings a little that he can’t remember the last time you’ve taken a break from everything you’ve been doing for him and the girls, but he’ll make it up to you once he has time. You always understand.

Still, just to be sure, he checks in on you again.

“You alright?”, he reaches for your hand, when he climbs into bed that night.

You’re lying in bed. He should find it odd that you’re still awake at this time of the night, staring up at the ceiling as if there’s something to be found there, but he falls asleep in the slow seconds, doesn't hear your response. When he wakes, you’ve already taken the girls to school. He gets himself ready for work, loops his tie around his neck, grabs his briefcase and the bento you’ve so lovingly packed for him, and hops on the train. He runs through his routine like clockwork, but there’s a niggling feeling that he’s missed something important, possibly something to do with you.

Did you say something to him last night?

It doesn’t matter. He makes a mental note to purchase a spa day for you - but that’s promptly forgotten when he’s greeted by a flood of emails and an invitation from his boss to go out for drinks that night.

Kuroo still thinks he’s doing alright.

“You’re lucky”, his boss toasts him. “Your wife doesn’t complain like mine when I go out drinking, even though I tell her I need to do it for work.”

“She’s an angel”, Kuroo replies, quietly bursting with pride. “Never complains.”

“Lucky man”, his boss says. “My wife is such a nag.”

He misses the last train home that night, drops you a text not to wait up and stumbles around Shibuya trying to find a cab. It must be a busy night because by the time he manages to flag down one, it’s three a.m. and his head is pounding from the excess of alcohol and lack of solid food and water. He fumbles with his keys, almost falls through his front door when the lock gives way. “Tadaima”, he says out of habit, too-loudly, before his stomach lurches and he has to make a mad dash for the kitchen sink.

“Tetsuro?”

He wants to respond, but he’s too busy emptying out the contents of his stomach. He shouldn’t have woken you up. He shouldn’t greet you with a mess for you to clean up. He shouldn’t lean so heavily on you that you stagger beneath his weight.

He shouldn’t do all of that yet he does so anyway. You tuck him, a grown man, into bed.

Tomorrow, he’ll apologise. Tomorrow, he’ll make it up to you.

Tomorrow comes. He wakes up.

You’re gone.

Kuroo Tetsuro is not alright.

He’s ashamed to admit that he doesn’t even notice you’ve taken off until it’s way past lunch when your mother drops him a text to ask if he’s picking up the girls or if he intends to leave them with her overnight.

“What d’you mean?” he texts her, confused.

His heart stops when your mother responds to say you dropped off the girls at her place without much of an explanation, an overnight bag slung over your shoulder. You don’t pick up your phones, his calls going straight to voicemail. For the first time in forever, he sheepishly asks his boss for urgent leave from work so he can rush home to figure out what’s going on.

You always take your laptop with you, but it’s sitting at home. He knows it’s an invasion of privacy, but he types in your password (his birthday), and your web browser reveals a booking for a ryokan in Hakone, where the both of you honeymooned almost a decade ago. It’s an hour away by train, far too much time for him to sit and stew in his thoughts. He wonders if you’ve become sick of your life with him, whether you’ve found someone new, and by the time he’s reached the ryokan and charmed the receptionist to let him into your room, he’s teetering on the edge of giving into his frustration, entertaining thoughts about yelling at you for being so goddamned irresponsible, cos how could you just walk out on him and the girls -

Until you walk in, thankfully alone.

It strikes him that it’s the most refreshed he’s seen you look in a very, very long time. Your cheeks are glowing, your eyes sparkle, and there’s a spring in your step that he hasn’t seen since you’ve had the girls.

Still, he can’t help but remain a little peeved. “I’ve been calling you all afternoon”, he informs you. “I was worried.”

He immediately regrets his words as he watches the light die in your eyes.

“Were you?”, you ask, as if you were addressing a stranger. “Really?”

“Of course”, he frowns, slowly getting up to approach you, concerned when you start to sway. “You’re my wife and the mother of our girls, of course I care.”

Laughter spills from your lips, an undercurrent of bitterness and contempt that’s threatening to drag you under before his very eyes. “If you really cared, you’d have noticed that your wife is broken”, you tell him between gasps, your shoulders caving in. “I tried fixing myself with a break, but you can’t even give me that.”

He’s starting to realise that things aren’t alright at all. You flinch when he takes a step towards you, an action which stabs him clean through his heart because he’s your husband, your Tetsuro, your person. Tea, then, a neutral offering that manages to calm you down enough to take a seat, even if you’re still shaking, falling to pieces while laughing, laughing -

“Tell me what’s wrong”, he begs. “Tell me what I can do to fix you.”

You take a sip of tea. It’s hot enough to burn you, but you don’t seem to notice.

“I can’t do this anymore, Tetsuro.”

“Don’t say that”, he snaps, his inner child recoiling because he can’t bear to have his girls go through what he went through, wondering if it was his fault, his very existence that caused his parents to split up. “The girls and I need you -”

You don’t seem to hear him.

“Princess”, he falls back on his pet name for you, rusty from lack of use. “Come back to me.”

You’re unmoved, your eyes unseeing, deaf to his pleas. Sip after sip, you gulp down scalding tea, each action jerky, mechanical. Frozen, in an impenetrable placidness that he can’t read. You’re sitting right in front of him but you’re not really there at all.

“Let’s talk when you’re back home”, he finally says. “Have a good break.”

The immature little boy that still lives in his psyche is still unconvinced that it’s a bad idea to drag you back home with him posthaste, but you asked for a break, and it’s the least he can give to you.

You allow him to roll out your futon for you, to swaddle you in layers of blankets as if that would keep you from falling apart any further. As he kisses your forehead to bid you goodnight and goodbye, he feels the brittleness of your bones, the thinness of your skin beneath his palms and he spends the hour-long train ride home wondering how he managed to look away long enough for you to turn into a shadow of your past self.

He goes straight to your mother’s house to retrieve the girls. As penance, he stands at the front door, head bowed, letting your mother yell at him in front of the neighbours for being a useless husband and an irresponsible father. After all, he deserves every word she flings in his face. He’s just thankful that she doesn’t ream him out in front of the girls.

“Where’s mama?” Fumiko mumbles half asleep into his neck. “Want mama.”

He cradles her closer. “She’ll be home tomorrow”, he tells her, hoping with every fibre of his being that that does not turn out to be a lie. Aiko, older and wiser, just stays quiet, so he forces a smile on his face for her sake.

Kuroo Tetsuro is far from okay.

The strain of the day wears on him and he’s sure there are burning emails in his inbox for him to firefight, but there’s a long list of chores to be done in your absence. The girls’ school bags need to be packed (in the case of five year old Fumiko) or checked (for ten year old Aiko), their uniforms to be laid out, the laundry sorted and folded. He barely gets any sleep before he has to hop out of bed to throw together a cold breakfast of milk and cereal that makes Fumiko burst into tears and Aiko’s face droops. By the time he shuffles his two cranky children out of the house and into their respective schools, he’s late for work.

He meets Bokuto and Kenma for lunch since there’s no lunch bento waiting for him in the fridge, though he regrets the decision to leave the refuge of his work desk for the boardroom of Bouncing Ball Corporation when Mitsuki joins them and, sharp-eyed as ever, sinks her talons into him.

“You look like shit”, she says to him as a greeting.

“Thanks”, he grounds out. The girls demanded he work their hair into the neat braids they insisted you always do, so bedhead would have to do for him today.

“I’ve never seen you without hair gel before”, Bokuto marvels. “You look weird.”

“I had a crap morning, okay”, he snaps, biting the head off the karaage fish in his store bought bento, which he resents for tasting worse than those you usually make for him. “So I’m sorry if I look slightly less than presentable -”

“You look like a man whose wife just left him - “

Mitsuki’s just stepped right on the wound he’s tried to keep hidden, festering and bleeding beneath his skin, so like an animal lashing out when it’s hurt, Kuroo slaps the table with both palms and snarls.

“Don’t - don’t fucking say that, okay? She’s just taking a break. She’ll come home.”

He can’t stand to see the shock and pity on his closest friends’ faces. “She’s coming home today”, he repeats softly, almost to himself, as if he’s little Fumiko in need of reassurance that the person she needs most in the world hasn’t just abandoned her. “It’s gonna be okay.”

Perhaps it’s the maturity that comes with fatherhood, because Bokuto is the first to react. “That’s right, you’re gonna be okay”, he soothes, pulling Kuroo into his seat. “Kenma’s gonna call your boss and tell him that you’re gonna spend the rest of the afternoon here to plan some event - “

“Sponsorship for the Under-19 team, done”, Kenma snaps his phone shut.

“Guys, I’m fine - ”

“Pretending everything’s okay isn’t going to help.”

Kuroo deflates. “Thanks, Kenma.”

Shelving his worthless pride to lay bare the situation he’s found himself in, that by neglecting his duties as a husband and father, he’s forced you to the brink of a mental breakdown, bad enough that you’ve left him - temporarily, he hopes. In the span of a few hours, he’s already found himself at his wit’s end, struggling to handle both the demands of the kids and his job, something that he realises he’s left you to bear, alone.

“But I can’t figure out why she didn’t just tell me she was feeling overwhelmed”, he says, pulling at a fraying thread in his shirt. “I would’ve listened. I would’ve done better.”

“She shouldn’t have to tell you to do your part”, Mitsuki waves away Bokuto’s desperate gesture for her not to kick a man when he’s already down.

“But I didn’t know -”

“Y’know, I really can’t stand men like you. You guys are amazing at work, able to anticipate your bosses’ and clients’ needs. At this point, you don’t even need to be told by your bosses to jump, you don’t even ask your clients ‘how high’ - yet, for some reason, you manage to turn off your brain the minute you walk in through the front door at home.”

“Maybe I should ask her for a list of things I can help her with -”

Bokuto claps his hand over Mitsuki’s mouth. “Ehhh..you might not wanna finish your sentence or Mitsuki might really bite your head off.”

Kuroo winces, snapping his mouth shut.

“Maybe you can think of it in a different way”, Bokuto says. “Instead of ‘helping’ her - cos that’s just placing the mental burden on her - at least, I think that’s the term Mitsuki-chan used when she explained it to me -” the affronted lawyer nods begrudgingly, and beaming, he continues - “you gotta do your half of the work!”

“Level up”, Kenma provides, rather unhelpfully.

“Open your eyes and use your brain”, Mitsuki says bluntly, rolling her eyes, though her tone is less sharp.

“Where do I start?” Kuroo asks.

Step one.

He picks the girls up from his mother in law’s place, bears with the lecture that’s awaiting him, and sheepishly asks them what their mama usually feeds them for dinner and breakfast, making a mental note of it. Tonight, he’ll cheat by feeding them gyudon at Sukiya, but he drops by the supermarket to procure the ingredients he needs for tomorrow’s breakfast and a bouquet of pink roses, even though he knows it’s probably too little, too late. He counts himself lucky that Fumiko loves bathtime, only needing supervision to wash and dry her hair, and Aiko’s responsible enough to work through her homework without prompting, but he’s still exhausted by the time they both head to bed.

His job doesn’t end there. Running through the checklist Mitsuki begrudgingly allowed Bokuto to give him, he surveys the apartment, comparing it against the mental image of how everything was before you left it. Toys scattered, to be put back in place. Dust on floor, to be vacuumed up. A heap of laundry in the basket, to be hung, dried, ironed.

Just as he finishes all these tasks, the front door swing opens.

“Tadaima”, you call out, voice hushed.

He nearly trips over his feet in his haste to relieve you of your luggage, usher you into a seat by the kitchen counter. “Okaerie”, he breathes,

“The girls?” you ask.

He’ll buy Bokuto lunch next time. “I picked them up from your mom”, he responds. “Don’t wake them up, I just put them to bed.”

You peek into their rooms nonetheless. “Thanks”, you say, heading next to the fridge. “By the way, I’ll pay you back for the hotel room from my own money, don’t worry.”

That’s the last thing on his mind. Besides, his sin is being a neglectful husband, not a miser. “It’s fine, I’ll cover it”, he scratches his head, embarrassed that you’re even bringing it up. “I should’ve realised you needed a break.”

That makes you frown, but you accept anyway. He watches you stack bread, eggs, ham, cheese, and it strikes him that you’re already worrying about the girls’ breakfast when you look as if you haven’t even had your own dinner.

“You haven’t had dinner?” he asks.

You reply carelessly that you’ve had a bento on the train back. You don’t even bother to look at him.

“I’ll take the girls in the mornings from now”, he tells you. “Sleep in and take a break.”

That gets your attention.

“Really?”

He plasters a confident smirk on his face to reassure you that he’s got it all in hand.

“Oh”, you’re adorable when you’re confused, but he hates that he’s given you reason to doubt him. “Wake me up if you need my help?”

“I won’t”, he promises.

It’s time for him to level up.

Step two.

He’s not going to lie to himself that he finds it difficult to do even half of what you used to do. Taking over the responsibility of wrangling the girls out of bed and into school, coming home early enough for dinner with you, that requires him to have hard conversations with his boss about not being able to go out for drinks or come in early anymore which probably hurts his chances for his next promotion, forces him to give up an hour or two of sleep, but it’s worth it if it allows you to heal.

“Don’t expect a gold star for your efforts”, Mitsuki warned him. “It’s just what you should’ve been doing before, so it’s time for you to go above and beyond.”

He takes her words to heart. You deserve to go to work well-rested, to wind down at night with a hot bath. He’ll buy a robot vacuum and pour over its manual that’s thicker than a textbook, do laundry loads while hopping on and off conference calls, wrestle the iron to press down his own shirts.

You seem baffled by the sudden shift in the winds, but he just pretends everything is normal. Business as usual. Things are just as they should’ve been.

In his next push to right his wrongs, he organises a Saturday dinner date with you. The girls are packed off with your mother, he makes the reservation, books the cab, compliments your dress. He asks you about your work (tiring), your boss (a micro-manager), the books you’ve read recently (nada, zilch). In the uphill battle to keep the conversation from being stilted, he makes a fatal mistake.

“We can make it work if you want to quit your job and stay home full time with the children.”

In his mind, that was a reasonable suggestion to make since you seem to hate your job and boss with a fiery passion. But you stare at him wide-eyed, your initial confusion hardening into anger.

“Did the guys at work tell you it’s easier to have a housewife instead of a working wife? Are you saying this because you don’t think I’m a good enough mother to our girls?”

You don’t give him a chance to backpedal, shooting a sarcastic apology for being selfish enough to refuse to be reliant on him, so he just slumps back in his chair in defeat.

“I just want you to be happy”, he murmurs. “Forget I ever said that.”

Step three.

To figure out step three, he schedules an emergency lunch meeting on Monday. The troops convene in Kenma’s boardroom to listen to his sorry tale with Mitsuki in charge of the post–battle analysis.

“And remind me again, where did you two meet?”

His face lights up at the memory of his first meeting with you. “Finance 102”, he replies. “We used to be academic rivals turned teammates after I convinced her I was smart enough for her to work with on projects.”

“What made you fall in love with her?”

“As much as I hate it, I have to admit she’s probably smarter than me”, he says, though the fond smile that creeps onto his face betrays the fact that he loves that about you. “She’s just - her, she’s headstrong and funny. Did I tell you how she tried to stab me with her fork when I stole food off her plate -”

“Only a million times”, Kenma interjects.

“She’s always been independent and ambitious, with big dreams and an even bigger heart.”

“Well”, Mitsuki says, adopting the mildest tone she’s used on him this month. “Does that sound like a woman who’d choose to stay home and depend on her husband? Not that there’s anything wrong with being a stay-at-home parent - Koutaro makes my career possible, and I’m the luckiest woman in the world to have him as my husband.”

“Babyyyyy.” Bokuto bawls, looking at MItsuki as if she hangs the moon in the sky.

Gross. Kenma seems to agree. “Let’s get back to Kuroo’s failing marriage”,

“So I shouldn’t bring up the suggestion that she quit her job again?”

His three person council shake their heads in unison. “Just keep what you’re doing”, Bokuto pipes up. “Sounds like you’re already doing the right things! Just gotta keep making sure she’s not holding up the sky herself.”

He can do that.

“And maybe talk to her?”, Kenma offers.

That’s the suggestion that he wants to dismiss right off the bat because he’s too much of a coward to even face the possibility that you might leave him. He doesn’t want to become his dad so he resolves to keep his head down and continue pushing ahead with his efforts to prove to you that he can be the husband you deserve, so you won’t wake up one day and decide to walk out on him again.

But his subconscious fears force his nightmares into overdrive. Dreams of packed bags and stacks of divorce papers makes him yelp loud enough for you to roll over and shake him awake. He’s a terrible husband for disturbing your sleep, but in his sleep-dazed state of confusion he just sinks back into the pillow, exhaling a sigh of relief.

“Thank the gods you haven’t left.”

“Why would I leave?”, you mumble, turning away again. “It’s my home, isn’t it.”

He sits up, rubs the nightmares away from his eyes. “I was afraid you left me.”

The silence nearly suffocates him. The sudden need to know exactly where you stand eats away at him and he crawls towards you. “Are you going to leave me”, he asks, praying to all the gods in the universe that you’ll reassure him otherwise.

His heart breaks anew when he hears a small sob, buried in the bedclothes. “I don’t know, Tetsuro”, you finally say. “I’m tired of being alone in a marriage when it’s supposed to be us working together.”

“I’m sorry.” There’s nothing much he can say.

A broken whisper. “I’m tired”, you exhale. “I think I deserve better.”

“I’ll make it better”, he promises.

He will. He will.

Kuroo Tetsuro is trying his best.

He takes a cooking class on the weekends to learn how to prepare bento boxes that are nutritious and easy on the wallet. He takes over the ferrying of Fumiko to her swimming lessons, work on Aiko’s art projects with her. He hires a part time cleaner to pick up the deep cleaning, so you and he have time to take the girls out on weekend outings instead of spending all day on a week’s worth of cumulated chores. A dishwasher appears in the house. He makes it a game for he and the girls to load and unload dishware each night.

“There’s a networking wine night for finance next Wednesday”, he tells you casually. “I’ll make sure to be home so you can go, if you want.”

You goggle at him.

“Go schmooze so the world knows you’re as amazing as I know you are.”

You trust him enough to leave the girls behind in his care and go. He counts that as a win.

Some nights he still can’t get home in time for dinner, but he always makes sure he’s home in time for a bedtime story and a goodnight kiss. Aiko avers that at the grand old age of ten, she doesn’t need her papa to tuck her to bed anymore, but she sidles into Fumiko’s room everynight and sits in the corner of her little sister’s bed as the littler girl listens to his tall tales.

“I met a princess when I was eighteen”, he says with a grin when he notices you listening in. “Instead of a crown, she armed herself with a fork, ready to cut down anyone who’d cross her.”

His heart skips a beat when he hears your voice from the doorway. “Don’t be dramatic”, you interrupt, a small smile growing on your face. “You were trying to steal my food and didn’t stop ‘til I stabbed you.”

Fumiko huffs, unhappy that her story’s being interrupted, but he can’t seem to tear his gaze away from you. “You left it on the table, princess. I consider that fair game.”

“Let ‘to-san tell the story, ka’san.” Aiko grumbles.

He savours your laughter. It tastes better than the finest wine.

“I can’t believe I have to fly all the way to Italy just to meet Kageyama-kun”, he huffs. “At least Hinata is meeting us there, I’ll revolt if I had to go up to Brazil as well.”

“You know it can’t be helped”, you reply. “The promotional activities planned need your presence, and it’s only for a week.”

“Will you be okay when I’m gone?”

His fears melt away when you hand him his suitcase, a flask of his favourite tea. “I’ve always managed fine. Nothing’s changed.”

His little monsters, realising that he’s about to leave, decide to launch a synchronised attack on him. Aiko throws herself at him in a bear hug. Fumiko yanks at his sleeve demanding a thousand kisses.

“Yes, well. I’ll be home soon. Please wait for me” he says to you when the girls finally release him. The expression on your face is unreadable, but you don’t pull away when he takes the liberty of taking your hand in his.

He feels your heartbeat accelerates. You glance up at him, almost shy. “I’ll see you soon.”

He’s so tempted to call his boss and pretend that he’s too ill to get on that damned flight, but he’s pretty sure that would get him fired. Instead, he calls you and the girls every day, and brings home a luggage full of presents for all of you.

When he’s home, he celebrates by putting on the frilliest pink apron he’s ever seen (courtesy of Yaku, who sent it to him all the way from Moscow as a joke) and throwing an elaborate takoyaki party, replete with customised toppings - octopus, cheese and shrimp, which the girls enjoyed even if he burnt the first batch and had to call Fukunaga frantically for tips to rescue the rest. It turns out to be such a success that he makes it a weekly event. Okonomiyaki is next, which he flips with expert confidence on a hot plate to the applause of you and the girls.

“Itadakimasu”, you clap your hands together. “It tastes good.”

He nearly melts into his pan. “Thank you”, he replies. “It means a lot, coming from you.”

His nights are still plagued by nightmares.

Things are better with you, he likes to think. The violets beneath your eyes are replaced by roses in your cheeks. He hears you humming about the house again. You pick up reading again, the shelves in the house start to groan under the weight of books belonging to the girls and you. You’re as eager as the girls to go on the next adventure, whether it be a summer night out in the park with sparklers, or a nerf gun battle at home on rainy days.

Still, he doesn’t know for sure what he’s doing is enough for you and he’s too much of a coward to check. So he’ll wake up almost every night, fumble in the dark just to make sure you’re there.

You’re there, until you aren’t.

It’s three in the morning. The space beside him is cold and empty.

He throws off the blankets, trips on his bed slippers. He crashes through into the living room and oh, there you are - sitting at the dining table, typing furiously at your laptop while mouthing off to yourself about the ridiculous demands your client makes.

“What’s wrong?” you frown.

He walks towards you, trying to discern that you’re real, you’re there, not some trick of the light..

“You’re - you’re still here.”

You nod slowly, eyeing him strangely. “My boss called and asked me to send out an urgent email. I was just about to go back to bed.”

He exhales, tries to force his trembling heart back into his chest. He thinks he’s doing a good job trying to act nonchalant, smoothing back his frazzled mane of hair, but you see right through him as you always do.

“Tetsuro”, you say slowly. “Is everything alright?

The truth tumbles out of his mouth. “I thought you were gone.”

Then he hangs his head, looks at his feet, afraid that he’ll only see rejection in your eyes. He’s a pathetic failure of a husband who has a decade’s worth of sins to make up for, and there’s no justification for him to selfishly to seek your absolution.

It comes anyway, in the form of soft hands pulling him forward.

“I’m here”, you say, pulling him into your embrace, letting him rest his heavy head in your lap.

He doesn’t allow himself to sink into your warmth. “Are you happier now? Are things better for you?”

“Yes”, he hears you say. The tension he’s been carrying around these few months lifts. “Thank you, Tetsuro. I appreciate it. I really do. You don’t have to work yourself to death - that’s never what I was asking for. If you’re tired -”

He shakes his head at your suggestion. He’s got a long way yet before he earns any reprieve.

“Tetsuro -”

He sits up abruptly, takes your hands in his.

“Promise you won’t leave me”, he pleads. “I know you’ve had to carry what must’ve felt like the weight of the entire world on your own, and I don’t have any excuse for that.”

“You don’t”, you agree.

He accepts the blow but he takes comfort that you don’t pull away. “I know that now. I know now how fucking hard it was to do it all alone.”

“It was hard. It was so, so hard, Tetsuro. I became numb to the pain. I don’t think I was functioning, I haven’t been for a while. For a long, long while.”

“I’m sorry”, his voice cracks.

“I know.” You cup his face in your hands, offers him comfort he doesn’t deserve. “That’s a chapter of our marriage that’s past, that can’t be unwritten. But the past few months have been different. You’ve shown me that you’ve changed.”

The first glimmer of sunlight after a long, dark winter. Hope blooms with your smile.

“I think”, you say. “I think we can make this work again.”

He stares at you, dumbstruck. Then the fact that you’re giving him another chance dawns upon him, and he crashes forward to rest his head on your shoulder, unashamed to cry tears of relief.

“Thank you”, he exhales brokenly. “I won’t fuck this up again, I promise.”

You press a kiss to his forehead, curl up trustingly in his arms. “Don’t thank me”, you laugh. “Thank yourself for making me believe in you.”

He drinks up each drop of your affection, falls asleep in the cradle of your arms.

“Is this what flirting is like?”

He wakes up to Aiko’s impertinent question, her hands on hips looking distinctly unimpressed at finding her parents asleep on the sofa, entwined together.

“Who taught you that word?” Kuroo asks, aghast that his ten year old daughter even recognises the existence of the opposite gender.

Aiko sticks her tongue at him, and he’s too distracted by Fumiko taking a flying leap onto the sofa with them, chattering a thousand miles an hour about what’s for breakfast and whether they can go to the zoo this afternoon - though he pins his suspicions on Bokuto’s trio of sons.

“Monsters”, he says. “Can’t even give your to-san a break to snuggle up to your pretty ka’san.”

The girls shriek in dismay - Aiko, at being a witness to further gross displays of affection between her parents, Fumiko, at being called a monster despite being a self-proclaimed princess. You prod at the soft flesh between his ribs.

“Don’t be mean”, you admonish him.

He sniffs, taking the chance to draw you closer. “I’m cranky in the mornings unless I get a morning kiss.”

You snort, swatting at him. “You make it sound as if kisses contain caffeine.”

The girls giggle, but he protests.

“Full of nonsense”, you tease, but you kiss him, again and again and again.

Things settle into a steady, sustainable pace.

You refuse to allow him to bear the weight of the household on his back alone. There are frank conversations to be had about what each of you can realistically handle without burning out. He leads the charge in the mornings, whipping up breakfast with the aid of his two sous chefs, building an expertise in braiding and french twists that could possibly allow him to moonlight as a hairstylist. You, on the other hand, take charge of evening pick-ups, cooking dinners, supervising homework and art projects until he comes home and tags you out.

Chores are evenly split. He doesn’t allow you to assume the mental load of organising the household by yourself. “We both have a degree in business management”, he likes to remind you, because he now knows that remembering to run errands, scheduling appointments - all of this is work too.

You force him to take breaks. If you get to relax with your friends, so should he. “If you get too stressed, you’ll lose your hair and we can’t have that.” He yelps when he imagines himself bald and obediently complies when you call Kenma up, talk him into getting him and Bokuto and Akaashi (when he’s feeling less morose about his singlehood) to go for a round of pick up volleyball. “I’m glad you enjoyed yourself”, you note wryly when he returns home crowing about how he stuffed an Olympic player with a kill block.

“I did”, he replies, catching your hips to pull you in, cheekily ignoring your complaints that he’s sweaty. “But I enjoy coming home to you even more.”

“Gross”, you grumble, but you seem content to remain in his arms.

It’s another small moment he treasures. Life, he learns, is made of moments, both big and small. He’d made the mistake of only focusing on the big ones - graduation, playing at nationals, the day he was lucky enough to marry you, each of his daughter’s birthdays. Now, though, he cherishes each moment, each second he has with you and the girls, no matter how little, no matter how small.

He likes to come into the bathroom each night, leaning his elbow on the edge of the bathtub as you chat to him about your day, luxuriating in the bath he drew for you. You and he take turns to complain about life’s inconveniences as you clear emails once the girls have gone off to bed- colleagues who shirk their work, bosses who nitpick overmuch, washing everything down with steaming cups of herbal tea.

“Are you happy?”, he asks you, night after night.

“Mm”, you say with an impish grin. “I’d be happier if you let me put my toes on your calves.”

“They’re freezing”, he groans but scoots over anyway. “Better?”

“Much better”, you hum, content. “Life is good.”

He’s not remiss in planning the big moments too.

A year passes quickly to your wedding anniversary. He packs your suitcase, books the train tickets and whisks you back to the ryokan in Hakone, though this time he upgrades you both to their largest suite. “I feel like a princess!” you exclaim, twirling about the room.

Your happiness is worth every yen he spent.

You spend the day strolling down avenues lined with cherry blossoms, Mount Fuji looming in the backdrop, the evening exchanging heated kisses in the private onsen he booked. You’re older now, with laughter lines creased into your forehead, grey streaks in your hair, but you’re still the same girl he fell in love with all those years ago.

“And you couldn’t wait ‘til we got back to our room?” you smack him.

He also loves how there’s fire burning bright in your eyes, the way it always used to. “You kissed me first!”

“You kissed me second!”

“I don’t hear you complaining”, he cackles.

You try to shush him, to no avail, as he draws the attention of everyone around him.

“What a happy couple”, an obaa-san remarks out loud. “They must be newlyweds.”

Well, she’s not wrong. You’re as radiant as you were fifteen years ago, his spring bride, but he’s an old man doddering on, hopefully with his edges sanded off with time. “Just your regular old, married couple”, he chortles when you’re safely back in the room.

“A happily married couple”, you reply, serenely sipping your tea. “That obaa-san definitely got that part right.”

There’s a lump in his throat that he can’t swallow. “Are you happy?” he manages to ask anyway.

“With you?” Your smile is warm, bright. Always.”

Both of you are doing alright.

a/n: it's been a while, hasn't it. i've been alright - how are you guys doing?

#kuroo x you #kuroo x reader #kuroo testuro #haikyuu angst #haikyuu fluff

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f1rodrigo · 5 months

Text

sweet relief | l. norris | part four

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ it's so reckless of me...

summary: in which you fall for your best friend’s teammate and keeping it a secret proves to be harder than you intended. or when all you need is sweet relief the rest of the world fades away. pairing: social media au || lando norris x piastri bsf!reader fc: olivia rodrigo <3 warnings: language

inspired by the song ‘sweet relief’ by madison beer

ALL PARTS HERE

a/n: hi i'm veryyyyy sorry for how long it took me to get this one up but it has a bit more than the other parts did & its currently finals week so the end of the semester is always very busy so i didn't have much time to work on this. hope you enjoy xx

⋆。ﾟ☁︎。⋆。ﾟ☾ ﾟ。⋆⋆。ﾟ☁︎。⋆。ﾟ☾ ﾟ。⋆⋆。ﾟ☁︎。⋆。

landonorris added to their story

⋆。ﾟ☁︎。⋆。ﾟ☾ ﾟ。⋆⋆。ﾟ☁︎。⋆。ﾟ☾ ﾟ。⋆⋆。ﾟ☁︎。⋆。

📍 Tokyo, Japan

liked by landonorris, maxfewtrell, and 2,032,987 others

yourusername i don't dream of anyone else...

view all 3,098 comments

user1 SHES IN JAPAN EVERYONE UP

user2 miss girl...this caption...the rumors...is it lyrics...what does it all mean%^&(@&@(!

user3 this caption after all the rumors ohhh my girl dont give a fuckkkk

user4 can't tell if this is her confirming or denying

⤷ user5 ...or living her life and not paying it any mind

user6 WHY THE FUCK IS NO ONE TALKING ABOUT THE LAST PHOTO??? ITS LITERALLY THE ELEVATOR AND FIT SHE WAS IN FROM THE DELETED PIC ON LANDOS STORY HELLO

⤷ user7 wait omfg it is.... idk why i didnt realize it sooner ⤷ user8 pls they do not gafffff anymore basically telling us they're together ⤷ user9 omg what deleted story???? ⤷ user10 go to @/norrisupdates on twitter i think they posted it before he deleted

user11 max fewtrell in the likes oh i am Thinking

lilymhe prettiest girl <3

⤷ yourusername i love u so dearly ms lily ⤷ user12 this is wag confirmation idc

⋆。ﾟ☁︎。⋆。ﾟ☾ ﾟ。⋆⋆。ﾟ☁︎。⋆。ﾟ☾ ﾟ。⋆⋆。ﾟ☁︎。⋆。

⋆。ﾟ☁︎。⋆。ﾟ☾ ﾟ。⋆⋆。ﾟ☁︎。⋆。ﾟ☾ ﾟ。⋆⋆。ﾟ☁︎。⋆

yourusername added to their story

⋆。ﾟ☁︎。⋆。ﾟ☾ ﾟ。⋆⋆。ﾟ☁︎。⋆。ﾟ☾ ﾟ。⋆⋆。ﾟ☁︎。⋆

liked by lnfour, yourusername, and 643,811 others

landonorris DOUBLE PODIUM!!!!!!!!!! Congrats mate! Thanks @/mclaren 🧡

view all 3,070 comments

mclaren Very good, very nice. 🏆🏆👏

oscarpiastri Well done mate 👊

riabish 🙌

user13 ANOTHER PODIUM THATS MY GOAT

user14 who would've thought... wow i am so proud

user15 mclaren double podium i used to pray for times like these

yourusername conhrsts 😭🧡

⤷ landonorris hmm sorry what was that ⤷ yourusername oh my god i couldn't see through my tears YOU KNEW WHAT I MEANT ⤷ user16 COULDNT SEE THROUGH HER TEARS PLSSS SHES JUST LIKE US ⤷ user17 mom and dad are fighting i dont like this

⋆。ﾟ☁︎。⋆。ﾟ☾ ﾟ。⋆⋆。ﾟ☁︎。⋆。ﾟ☾ ﾟ。⋆⋆。ﾟ☁︎。⋆

liked by landonorris, yourusername, and 643,811 others

oscarpiastri One for the mantelpiece 🏆 and driver of the day too!! you guys 🧡

view all 2,217 comments

user18 SOBBING MY EYES OUT

landonorris Congrats mate!!

⤷ oscarpiastri You too mate! (and i'm not talking about the podium 😉) ⤷ landonorris ...I take it back ⤷ user19 oscar piastri what the FUCK is that supposed to mean

yourusername I AM CRYING LIKE A PARENT DROPPING THEIR CHILD OFF FOR THEIR FIRST DAY OF SCHOOL

⤷ user15 yn & lando parents to oscar has now been confirmed

yourusername so beyond proud of you oscar 🥹

⤷ oscarpiastri 🧡🧡 ⤷ user20 cannot imagine how she feels watching him all her life through karting till now and getting to witness his first podium oh my gosh im crying again ⤷ user21 STFU NOW IM CRYING

⋆。ﾟ☁︎。⋆。ﾟ☾ ﾟ。⋆⋆。ﾟ☁︎。⋆。ﾟ☾ ﾟ。⋆⋆。ﾟ☁︎。⋆

liked by oscarpiastri, dan_nigro, and 3,981,061 others

yourusername my new single, 'sweet relief' will be all yours in one week. presave at the link in my bio<3

view all 5,910 comments

user30 BEST DAY OF MY LIFE ARE U KIDDING

user31 love song about lando calling it now

user32 sobbing my eyes out new yn music

user33 BABE WAKE UP YN YLN ANNOUNCED NEW MUSIC

landonorris 🔥

⤷ user34 real

logansargeant lets goooo

user34 HIT OF THE YEAR INCOMING

user35 cannot wait oh my fucking god

alex_albon lily and i will be streaming❗️❗️

⋆。ﾟ☁︎。⋆。ﾟ☾ ﾟ。⋆⋆。ﾟ☁︎。⋆。ﾟ☾ ﾟ。⋆⋆。ﾟ☁︎。⋆

tagged:

@allywthsr , @2bormaybenot , @vellicora

#formula 1 #lando norris #lando norris x reader #lando norris smau #landoscar #lando norris imagine #lando norris x you #lando norris fanfic #f1 2023 #formula one #formula one fic #lando norris fluff #oscar piastri #olivia rodrigo #wallowsrigo #wallowsrigosweetrelief

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byerseason · 17 days

Text

my personal opinions on byler & mike’s character

most people believe mike is clueless or at least he just suspects will’s feelings. well, sometimes i agree with that but in general i think mike knows. actually he always knew. let’s look at everything from the beginning.

both mike and will always lived in a small town full of homophobia. we know will personally experienced homophobia from his dad and other people in hawkins. mike and will are friends since kindergarten and mike obviously witnessed all of these homophobia will went through. maybe mike experienced it too, we know ted said “see what happens?” for a reason. especially with lonnie, mike witnessed everything he did to will, we all know will shares everything with mike. so from their point of view, this thing called “homosexuality” is something really bad and all it causes is harm and hate. it’s something forbidden.

now let’s see what happened in all seasons. in season 1, a cool girl magically comes into mike’s life and shows interest in him. “you’re blind, because a girl is not grossed out by you” now mike has a chance to be normal like people expect him to be. and he’s a child, it’s not that deep. he can try. no deep feelings, no love, just be normal.

in season 2 this chance is taken away from mike leaving a trauma to him. after all, el was special and he cares for her so much. and the fact that she sacrificed herself just to save him and his friends is not something we can overlook. and adding to this trauma, something really bad is happening to will and they don’t even know what is it and how to fix it. he does his best, he never leaves his side because it’s something a good friend would do right? it wasn’t that forbidden thing the adults get angry about and it shouldn’t be. after el’s return and will being safe, mike had this chance again. el was here, she was incredible, a superhero who saved will and the world, and she was ready to be in a relationship with him. snowball scene was mike telling will “i’m moving on, you should move on too or we will get hurt by this.” because you know, these things always hurt will and nothing else.

in season 3, mike continues to this “moving on” as we can clearly see. this time a little bit grown up, or at least trying to grow up. distancing himself from will and all his friends, focusing on el all the time and for some reason not being able to maintain a friendship with will while dating el. this speaks volumes actually. it’s both him trying to be normal as expected and distancing himself from will to make sure he is normal too. to me that’s all the “it’s not my fault you don’t like girls.” scene. while mike is fighting back, will makes it harder for both of them without realizing it. i think -like everyone- the ending of season 3 was mike realizing it’s not working and it’s getting serious. he’s growing up, they’re growing up and everything is becoming clearer.

will and el moving to california was a new chance for mike. he ignored will, well at least he tried even though it’s clear he felt his absence especially in school, he didn’t reach out to him thinking maybe this is the chance for both of them to move on. and then el’s letter happened. mike thought will really did it, he moved on, he was able to move on while mike isn’t. if we think deeper, he is even working on a painting for her, something he used to do with mike. so yeah, will is normal, it worked for will, while mike is still dealing with this. when they reunite i think it was much more than just jealousy. disappointment, anger maybe? especially after he saw he brought the painting to the airport. apparently will wasn’t planning on giving all his attention to mike, who was visiting him after months, but he was planning to give the painting to the girl he likes, it was probably the reason of his excitement, not mike. so this is what makes mike want to focus on el more and ignore will during rinkomania scenes. when el mentions angela and will gives a reaction to this, mike is sure he was right and this day is about angela for will.

but he finds out he was wrong. well, the painting is still for a girl but at least he was wrong about angela. will was just upset because mike was being lied to, and he was hurt by mike being distant from him. this is what leads mike to sincerely apologize to will, as always. he always does that, if will says “where is dustin right now?” mike realizes his mistake and tries to fix it. if will says “we used to be best friends” mike realizes his mistake and offers to be best friends again. that’s all their dynamic about.

after mike and el’s fight, mike comes and explains what happened to will but it’s more like he is asking for an advice, he wants will to understand him. “it was a fight that you can’t come back from.” he wants will to agree but he doesn’t, this is when we start to understand mike’s inner struggles. he brings up this topic to will three times. none of these conversations are like two best friends giving each other relationship advices because mike never tells will what is the problem. for some reason he doesn’t want will to know he can’t tell her girlfriend that he loves her. we all know will and mike are sincere enough to tell these things to each other, they always do. but if he can’t, there must be a reason. maybe mike himself doesn’t know the answer either, maybe he doesn’t want will to understand his situation because he thinks will successfully moved on, who knows?

in the desert scene, he brings the topic up again, without mentioning what is “that thing”, but this time will seems like he understands. “sometimes, i think it’s just scary to open up like that, to say how you really feel, especially to the people you care about the most.” mike never mentioned he is struggling to say how he feels but will understand, he always did. this conversation would continue with mike opening up to will if it wasn’t interrupted, so mike brings it up once again for the third time, in the van scene.

this time he is being more open but he is still struggling to say one thing, which will completes for him “you’re scared of losing her.” well, mike was wrong. will wasn’t getting it until.. the painting scene. mike is not stupid, he knows will spent days working on it. he knows eleven doesn’t know about what this painting is about. he knows he doesn’t make el feel like “she is not a mistake at all” especially after their fight, remember that line from the script “she��s already beginning to understand she doesn’t need me, i saw it in her eyes” he knows el doesn’t need him, he knows will well enough to understand he is lying. the way he looks at will admiringly is him thinking “he didn’t move on, we’re still the same.” and also him being aware of what will is doing for him, breaking his own heart and sacrificing himself just to make mike feel better. also, he notices will is sobbing, he looks at him and even if he didn’t how could he not? he had tears in his eyes during all the monologue and he was sobbing right next to him. so is there any reason for mike to not say anything to his best friend sobbing next to him if he didn’t know the reason? the mike i know would immediately ask what was wrong if he was clueless. he knows why will is crying but he doesn’t know what to do about it. mike’s situation is pretty sad when you think about it, he probably feels like he’s stuck.

then we have the desert reunion scene. this time we clearly can see how stuck he feels between el and will, he doesn’t know how to get out of this without hurting any of them, and also himself. the way he looks at them looks like also him being afraid of damaging their bond.

then the monologue scene.. this scene may mean lots of different things, i am not sure either.

it may be mike being aware of what will is doing, how he is sacrificing himself once again, how mike is gonna have to lie and hurt everyone in the end, how the things are gonna be way more complicated or mike realizing he was wrong about thinking will has feelings for him.

my season 5 expectation is seeing a mike wheeler who stops fighting back and embraces his feelings, without hurting both of them.

that’s my point of view that changes almost everyday lol. i don’t know if there are many people who believes mike isn’t clueless so i wanted to share my thoughts. 💛

#byler #mike wheeler #will byers #byler endgame #byler analysis

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analbedo · 1 year

Text

📔 that boy’s a liar ft asshole virgin killer jock bf childe

ngl im having Bad Childe Thoughts™️ sorry he’s such nonconner bait like skskfkkdks. also this was not supposed to be this long sadly i just got too silly wit it >_> also it’s been so long since i wrote i had to keep looking words up to make sure i used them right asksjdjsk i was staring at my phone for like 10 minutes bc there’s no way sinisterly is a word 🤨 anyway.

i could easily imagine him being, like, an asshole jock, probably plays some rich boy sport like lacrosse 😭 and every time the school year starts he’s always looking for another cute freshman to fuck. he had a thing for virgins, and no one was more virginal than a fresh out of high school girl, eager to find her first boyfriend, completely oblivious to the nature of men. (well, really, men like him.)

𐐪 warning: this fic contains dark content, please read my dark content disclaimer before continuing. minors dni.

🦢cw: virginity kink, dubcon/sexual coercion, noncon/rape (both implied and explicit, the word rape is also used), misogyny (i’m sorry women🥺), emotional manipulation, unhealthy relationships, unconsensual nude sharing, degradation, unconsensual creampie-ing (is there a better word for this?), hair pulling, mouth spitting, contraception mention⁉️

° 𐐪 ♡ 𐑂 nsfw below the cut! 𐐪 ♡ 𐑂 °

and that’s what led ajax to you, the bright eyed, overly naive barely legal cheerleader. most cheerleaders were too slutty for his tastes, but he could tell from the innocent way you swung your hips and nervousness around guys that you’d probably never had a boyfriend, let alone sex.

bagging you was too easy, he almost felt bad for you. he’d barely finished inviting you to one of his games when you’d excitedly accepted. afterward, him convincing you to go to a frat party later that night was child’s play (no pun intended). from there on, you were putty in his hands. ajax had no real intentions of dating you, you were a bit too innocent for his tastes. but, when you offhandedly mentioned you were saving yourself for “the one” (seriously?), he realized he had no other choice.

nothing really changed after you made it official, you still went to his games and parties with him, and sent him nudes that he was definitely sending to his friends’ groupchat. ajax, the notorious virgin killer, and his new victim. the general consensus was that you were the hottest one he found, which was an accomplishment, but his friends teased him for how long it was taking for him to smash— “you’re losing your touch there, casanova” kaeya texted him after he updated the chat on his latest date with you.

ajax rolled his eyes, but it was true. you were really not trying to give it up, even if you were blackout drunk, slurring your words at parties, even when he lit candles and set out rose petals for your one month anniversary, even when he said he’d never tell anyone. nothing was working, and he was starting to get annoyed. nutting on you face, tits, and ass wasn’t cutting it; if anything he was starting to get more and more sexually frustrated. he wouldn’t force you, he wasn’t that type of guy, but damn it if he wasn’t running out of ways to try to convince you to let him actually put his dick inside you; he’d even settle for just head at this point.

ajax reached his breaking point one night after a game. his team won the championship finals for their division, or something, which meant they had a solid chance at playing to win the state title. surely, he deserved something for that. so, when you invited him over to celebrate after, he was expecting more than you just surprising him with a homemade dinner after his shower.

“that’s it?” ajax asked, looking in disbelief at the table, his voice gradually growing louder and meaner as he spoke. “you fucking cook for me all the time, why the fuck would you think this is a surprise?”

you felt your heart sink a little bit; you’d put way more effort into it than your usual dishes, and you thought he’d might like a nice, fulfilling dinner after working so hard. ajax had little outbursts like this all the time, but he assured you that’s just how relationships are, and who would give up a tall, handsome, perfectly sculpted redhead athlete just because he’s a little temperamental.

you remained quiet; usually, this is where he’d apologize and say he had a bad day, or was tired. but, his tirade kept going.

“we’ve been together three fucking months and you’re still acting like the same boring virgin bitch as when we started dating. i thought for once you’d stop fucking neglecting me and finally fucking put out.” ajax reached up to run a hand through his damp auburn hair, his towel slipping down ever so slightly as he did so. you felt your face grow warm in embarrassment and desire. you wanted to wait, but him borderline flashing you sent butterflies down your stomach to between your legs.

“i’m sorry,” you said meekly, genuinely meaning it. you tried explaining how scared you were to do it for the first time; stds, pregnancy, or having your cherry popped, which you imagined would be more painful than it sounds. ajax always gave you the same responses, that he was clean, he’d pull out, he’d be gentle. you had no reason to deny him, really, you saw a future with him; and, if he’d dated you this long without having sex, you imagined he’d want to be with you forever once you said yes.

but still, something in your body was telling you to stop, leave, run. as many butterflies as he gave you, there were still cold claws of dread and fear dragging in your chest at the thought of sleeping with him. “i’m just not ready yet, baby. i’m sorry.” you replied, unable to meet his eye.

that was probably a good thing, because the look of disgust he casted would’ve been enough to make you break down in tears. “not… ready?” ajax asked in an angry low timbre. “you’re a fucking adult, for christ’s sake, what the fuck do you mean you’re not ready? it’s fucking sex, not a marriage proposal.” he huffed incredulously, running both hands through his hair now while throwing his head back. he turned away from you, finally allowing you to lift your gaze from the floor. staring at his back, you realized just how muscular your boyfriend was— and tall too.

if he really wanted it, he could easily take it. you wouldn’t stand a chance.

the thought alone made your throat swell and eyes prick. you never thought he could be that kind of guy; and if he is, wouldn’t it be better to just let him do what he wants? maybe he’d go easy on you if you said yes now.

“everyone else on the team is probably getting ass at that after party, and i’m fucking stuck here playing house with a childish ass bitch,” ajax groaned. his words felt like punches straight to the gut; you instinctively held your abdomen in response. he turned around to you, his face now free of anger, but full of… something. you didn’t know what, but it was sending shivers down your spine. “you know, this is the longest i’ve ever gone without having sex,” he said in a neutral tone, slowly walking around the table to approach you. you winced as he lifted your chin up, bringing his face uncomfortably close to yours.

“look at me,” ajax said softly, but sinisterly. you forced your tear filled eyes to meet his, but not without trembling in fear. “you’re neglecting me, you know. isn’t it a little unfair to deprive me of intimacy, when i’ve been doing everything i can to make you comfortable? why are you so scared of me, hm? why don’t you trust me?” you merely blinked in response; if you talked you knew you wouldn’t be able to hold back sobbing. “i don’t neglect you, do i? is there anything you want that i don’t for do?” you pondered the question; though he was rarely ever nice or this soft spoken, he had a point— physically, he’d given you all the cuddles and forehead kisses you could want.

still, that wasn’t the same thing as having sex? or, was it? who’s to say he finds cuddling as intimate as lovemaking? maybe sex was to him what cuddling was to you— maybe you were neglecting him. you shook your head softly in reply.

“good girl, you’re right. i’ve done everything i can to prove you can trust me, does that not matter to you? will i never be good enough for you?” ajax’s voice sounded sincere, but the cold, perverse look in his eyes still made you doubt. “i’ve been so patient, baby. i could’ve taken it any time i wanted, but i waited for you. you gonna keep me waiting forever?”

something about his logic wasn’t quite adding up to you— but, it didn’t matter. your brain was too clogged with fear to compute anything. plus, he confirmed what you tried so hard to not acknowledge all along: if he wanted you, he could have you, whether you wanted it or not. your heart thudded in your chest.

you felt guilty for depriving your boyfriend for so long, but that was overshadowed by your fear of what he’d do to you if you kept kept saying no. “ok,” you whispered meekly, so soft you were surprised he even heard it.

or, maybe he didn’t. it probably wouldn’t have made much of a difference.

ajax smiled, though this time his grin of approval filled you with cold terror instead of giddy excitement. “i knew you’d do the right thing.”

***

“shouldn’t we use condoms?” you asked. you were sitting on your bed, wrapping your naked body with your fuzzy pink blanket. maybe you were as childish as he said. the more you thought about it, the less you wanted to do it, but, it was too late mow.

“they’re too small for me, but, don’t worry, i’m clean. can’t let an std fuck up my lacrosse career, you know?” ajax said casually, walking towards the bed.

“no, not for that. i meant for- i mean, like, i’m not on, like, birth control or anything—” you stammered.

“oh that’s fine, i was gonna pull out anyway. can’t let a baby fuck up my career, either,” he replied, chuckling at his own joke before giving you a light peck. “plus, you’re too hot to knock up right now, it’d ruin your body. i’d save that for after you’ve already hit the wall. anyway,” he said sliding back on the bed and leaning against the wall. “come here princess, i’ll show you what to do.”

you turned around and crawled toward him, sitting back on your heels. his comment about your body momentarily snapped you out of your fearful haze; were you really about to give it up to such an asshole?

ajax twirled his finger, motioning you. “face that way, towards the door. and get on your hands and knees”

“like this?”

“perfect. now—” instead of giving instructions, ajax put his hand between your shoulder blades and pushed you down roughly. “you’re gonna stay like that.”

it was kind of humiliating being in such a lewd pose; you’d always imagined your first time would be passionate missionary sex, not getting your back blown out. ajax shuffled behind you on the bed; he was taking his boxers off.

“okay, you ready? i’m gonna be honest, it’s pretty big, and it’s gonna hurt a lot before it starts to feel good, alright?” ajax said as he positioned himself behind you, his hands on your hips as he slowly dragged the tip of his dick against your vulva. “just keep taking it, though,” he said, lowering his voice for the rest of his sentence: “i didn’t wait all this time just to get blue balled.”

ajax lined himself up with your hole, and you sucked in a breath as you felt the slight pressure of his tip on the outer rim. you winced, scrunching your face as you prepared for him to actually go in.

sadly, nothing could’ve prepared you for that type of pain.

“fuck— ajax stop, no, it hurts— it hurts too much—” you cried out, practically screaming.

“tch. stop being so dramatic, i’m not even halfway in,” ajax paused his speech as he pushed into you further, eliciting a yelp. the searing pain was almost enough to render you unconscious, and, god, how you wish it actually did. “it’ll hurt less once you’re used to it. relax, for fucks sake. the more you panic the more it hurts.”

you wished you could heed his advice— but, then again, what does he know? he’d only ever inflicted the pain, never received it. there’s no way he could comprehend how horrific it felt being split open, your body resisting every inch but still being made to take it. the pain came from between your legs and in your head, too, the few fleeting thoughts you had besides how much it hurt questioning how he could put you through this, if he really loved you, he knew you weren’t ready.

you abandoned speech altogether, merely sobbing as ajax continued to push his thick cock inside you.

ajax paused again. “crying’s only hot if i can see it. shut the fuck up, you’re killing the mood.” when you didn’t stop sobbing, he grabbed you by the ponytail, jerking your towards him so he could mutter in your ear; the shock was enough to shut you up, at least momentarily. “i swear i get soft ‘cause you keep whining like a bitch, you’re gonna suck it til it’s hard again, and i’ll make sure it hurts a whole lot fucking worse.” he let go of your hair, your body flopping limply back onto your bed.

you took a deep breath, biting down on your arm to silence yourself, and prepared for the worst.

ajax was angry now, and, being the cause of his agitation, he happily took it out you. you bit down so hard you could’ve sworn you drew blood as he continued to shove his cock inside you; his thrusts were rough, it felt as he was tearing you open. just as your brain grew delirious with pain, you felt one final shove before the warmth of his body was against your ass.

“there, that wasn’t so bad, was it, baby? i don’t even think you’re bleeding,” ajax cooed. you were so beat down you couldn’t even speak, but he didn’t really need a reply; he didn’t care how bad it was for you, because it was perfect for him. “but i know you’re still a virgin, or, were a virgin, ‘cause you’re so fucking tight.” he moaned as he held your hips and pushed into further, somehow managing to get even deeper. this caused a new type of discomfort; less of the searing torture of him going in, but a nonetheless dull, aching pain in your lower abdomen.

“fuck, you feel so good, pussy’s gripping me so tight like it’s made for me. think i just hit your cervix, too.” ajax’s hands traveled from your hips to your ass, massaging the soft flesh on either side. “you’re so fucking hot, i could probably cum just from this.”

panic became the new sensation that took you over. “but you said you’d pull out,” you cried, trying a last ditch attempt to crawl away from him.

ajax easily held you against him again, and sighed in annoyance. “i said i could, not that i would, stupid slut. you’re the last girl alive i’d knock up; who’d wanna spend 18 years with your annoying ass?”

tears returned to your eyes; is this really how he viewed you? was this entire relationship just a ruse to get in your pants?

well, it didn’t matter, at this point. he was already there, and wasn’t leaving until he finished. you had no choice but to take it.

ajax clicked his tongue before gently sliding out of you, barely an inch. he showed no mercy thrusting back into you, though, making that dull ache resonate again. he slowly pulled out again, leaving only the tip inside.

“damn, you’re pretty wet for a bitch that says she doesn’t want it,” he sneered. ajax slammed his dick back inside you; strangely, it didn’t hurt nearly as much as the first time, minus him hitting your cervix. “but virgins are all the same,”ajax continued, picking up the pace at which he rutted into you. “you pretend you don’t want it to ‘cause of your purity bullshit, but the second i’ve got you bent over you start creamin’ on me like a porn star, can’t help yourself.”

the pain of him sliding into you was gone at this point; you could only feel the drag of his cock against your walls, rubbing against a spot that made ecstasy shoot through you. even the ache from him going too deep started to feel pleasurable. you couldn’t help but moan as waves of euphoria washed over you.

“yeah, you like that, baby?” ajax purred, before sending a sharp smack to your ass. he chuckled hearing you moan at that, too. “damn, you’re a masochist, too? didn’t think a pure little princess would be such a whore in bed.” he slapped your ass again, before reaching around to grab your neck and pull you towards him and titling your head back so he could look into your face. “bet you’re sorry for making me wait, huh? fucking tease,” he snapped, before spitting into your mouth. “swallow it.”

you did as you were told, disgusted by the feeling of the warm, foamy liquid landing in your mouth and sliding down your esophagus. he let you go, and you fell again back onto the bed. ajax placed a large hand on your back, pushing you down into the right position.

“keep your back fucking arched,” ajax scolded. with one hand pressing you into the sheets, and one firmly grasping the softness of your hip, he rutted into you, harder, and faster, each thrust sending shots of pleasure and pain throughout your whole body.

“ah- ajax- slow- fuck- slow down, ‘ts too much- too fast-i can’t—” you moaned, drooling onto the sheets. it felt so wrong, letting him do this to you, with all the awful things he’s said and done— but, you couldn’t help how good it felt taking his dick, every movement adding to the euphoric build up that made your body limo and head dizzy.

the intensity of pain and pleasure increased as he leaned over to hiss in your ear: “you’re gonna take what i fucking give you., slut.” ajax pried open your jaw, and shoved two long fingers into your mouth. “i’m tired of listening to you moaning, i wanna hear you gag for me, princess.” you choked around him, his digits pressing the back of your throat. “yeah, just like that, baby.”

the feeling of his fingers being pushed down your throat as he panted in your ear, while still not letting up on his rapid thrusts was all too stimulating; you felt your body tremble as you came, tranquillizing euphoria spreading your body like electricity. you could vaguely feel your pussy flutter around ajax’s dick, involuntarily clenching around him.

“fuck, you just got so much tighter— ah, wetter, too,” ajax moaned in your ear, burying his head in the crook of your neck and shoulder. “fuck, baby, i’m so close, feels so fucking good—” he cut himself off with his own panting, desperately chasing his own release.

it took you a moment to register his words in your post orgasm haze, but you quickly snapped to attention once you did. you jerked your head to the side so his fingers were no longer massaging the back of your tongue.

“wait- ajax, you said you’d pull out—”

“god, i know, i will, now shut the fuck up before you ruin it,” he groaned. his hands moved to yours, pinning your wrists down while as rhythm grew sloppy.

“ajax, please- you said you wouldn’t, cum inside me— please— please don’t don’t—“ you plead desperately.

“shut up, bitch,” ajax spat. “i know what im fucking doing,”. “i’m not gonna nut inside you— fuck— just need a little more—ah”

“please don’t,” you whispered softly; you were almost certain ajax wouldn’t risk cumming inside you— his reasoning was sound, but there again was that feeling of chilling dread as he kept messily rutting into you.

“fuck, ‘ts so good, so fucking wet— ah” ajax panted, indifferent to your reminders. his speed slowed, now more pronounced pounding. “fuck, fuck, i’m sorry baby, it just feels too fucking good, i can’t— ahh”

you screamed for him to stop, but it was too late; you could feel after his final thrust a warmth inside you, spreading deeper into your core as he wrapped his arms around you. “ajax, stop it— get off— let me go!” you screeched, desperately trying to break free from his grasp.

“sorry, princess, ‘ts too late now. shit, there’s so fucking much, too,” ajax sighed, pushing into you even harder. “fuck.”

nothing could describe the disgust you felt, trapped under your boyfriend’s sweaty, toned body as he forced you to take every last drop of his cum, shamelessly draining his balls inside your limp body. you knew you had to worry about pregnancy or an sti, but those were far from your mind.

the only thing you could think about is how bad you wanted to die.

ajax finally released you, getting off the bed and searching for his clothes. once free, you immediately crawled into a fetal position, tears pooling from your eyes as his cum drooled down your thighs.

epilogue

“sorry about that, by the way,” ajax said nonchalantly, as if he didn’t basically ruin your life. “it’s been so long since i last had sex, i guess i forgot how to pull out in time, so it’s kind of on you for making me wait.”

you said nothing; as humiliated as you were, you couldn’t risk more embarrassment by actually responding to him.

“hey, so, there’s still an after party going on, so i think i’m gonna check that out. you don’t have to worry about coming though— shit, sorry— attending, i know you probably have some shit you wanna work through right now. soooo,” you heard his footsteps head toward your bedroom door. he paused, as if he was waiting for a response, but eventually you heard him leave your room, head out the front door, and drive off. you laid on your bed, curled up in shame, for what felt like an eternity, until the loud text alert from your phone jolted you out of your catatonic state. it was a text— from ajax, surprisingly.

hey. left you a apology gift on your table. hope it helps.

you threw on a bathrobe and shuffled miserably back to your dining room. the elaborate feast you made was embarrassing to look at; all that effort just to get borderline raped by your boyfriend for his special night. you saw the gift he must have been referring to: a wad of bills, that, when you counted them it amounted to $65. you read the messy scrawl on the accompanying note:

enough for a plan b ♡

#tw noncon #tw dubcon #childe #childe smut #childe x reader #genshin smut #tartaglia smut #ajax x reader #<- damn how many names this mf got like ⁈

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abibliophobiaa · 11 months

Text

Beyond - s.h. x f!reader

Chapter Five: Somewhere in the Crowd There’s You

a/n: here’s chapter five of my purely self-indulgent fun — a little later than i anticipated because i was sick and got a little derailed. we are half way now and things will be heating up in the next few chapters, 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: (10k words); mentions of alcohol; parent loss, both parties; r has a sister and father; smut in later chapters, so 18+, minors dni; additional tags to be added.

masterlist

“You sent too much money.”

It’s your father’s voice that spills down the other line. Gruff in a way that alerts you your fears aren’t for naught, as he’s likely had many sleepless nights since the last you spoke. You recall days as a child, when your mother had been sick, and your father would stay awake all hours of the night, if only to clean up the house so she didn’t have to. To make sure that her worries were only meant to be on getting better and resting.

“I…have a business and it’s going well,” you explain, chewing on your bottom lip.

Across the room, Steve’s fluffing pillows and putting a champagne bottle on ice. Your guests will be here soon, likely within the next few minutes, though when your father’s name flashed across your screen you knew you needed to answer.

“Only a few clients now, but I’m hopeful I’ll pick up more,” you continue, exhaling deeply. “I want you to have it. I know Caroline mentioned needing new shoes. Please let me do this.”

There’s a long pause. “Okay, okay. I’m so proud of you, sweetheart. Clinical year at school, newly married, and now a businesswoman. How is my son-in-law?”

“He’s…”

Steve rushes into the kitchen where you’re standing, hands curling around either of your hips to shift you away from the refrigerator so he can pull out the charcuterie board you had commissioned for the evening’s gathering.

“He’s really great. He’s been busy since we got back from our honeymoon, but he’s doing really well.”

Ever since your moment days ago in the kitchen, after Steve had pushed aside picking you up and opted to send Hopper in his stead, your relationship has taken new form. True to his word, Steve started a new habit of not answering his phone after you're done with your clinicals for the evening. Afternoons now had been spent watching your shows together on nights you didn’t have prior engagements with his coworkers, merely existing in the same room together, becoming…friends.

Literal friends, in the truest sense of the word. And it’s more than you can ask for, though you can’t lie that even the slightest touches leave you a little breathless. There’s also the kisses to the back of your hand at dinner, the way he curls his palm around the top of your thigh while his coworkers regale a particularly interesting story, the lingering press of his mouth against your forehead when he’s feeling especially doting in mixed company.

Progress.

You’re making progress.

“I actually should go and help him. We have company this afternoon. His cousin and wife are visiting us for the first time since the wedding. Still getting used to hosting gatherings as a couple, you know?” There’s a chuckle on the other end, and you know him well enough to imagine the slow shake of his head. “I love you so much and I’ll talk to you soon, okay?”

The line clicks, leaving you to witness Steve elbow deep in the sink, washing your coffee mugs from earlier that morning. Your eyes slide to the perfectly operational dishwasher on his right side, though you can’t deny that the sight of your husband, bare arms shifting and moving as he works, is a lovely one. None the wiser of your ogling, you step forward to him, elbow leaning down against the counter.

“You know, the dishwasher is empty,” you point out.

“I am perfectly capable of cleaning a few dishes,” he grouses, rinsing a cup and settling it in the drying rack. “I also need to keep moving. Getting antsy now that they’re running late.”

“Hey, Steve?” You step closer, your front brushing his hip. He shakes his head as you do so, a laugh breaking free from his mouth as you grip his arms and still him in his frantic movements. “Put the sponge down. And the plate. The fork, too.”

The three items plunk down into the sink, a loud clatter in your otherwise silent home. Fingers curl around a hand towel and he reaches over to grasp his wedding ring, pushing it back into place against his knuckle. One thing you’ve found, and you particularly enjoy, is the fact Steve’s never taken off his ring. Not once. Even under the false pretenses of marriage, seeing him wearing a symbol of your union, of the vows you shared some time ago now, erupts dozens of bees into your bloodstream. Humming, buzzing, igniting your every nerve ending with electricity.

“Are you okay,” you ask, hand coming to rest against his back.

It’s the softest brush, and yet he turns his head all the same, hazel eyes meeting yours, and then trailing up the inside of your arm to where you’re touching.

“Yeah, I’m okay,” he says unconvincingly, shifting to face you now. That arm drops as he does so, but is replaced by his two large hands cupping your biceps. “Just want to get through this afternoon and then I’ll be much happier.”

Your mouth opens to speak, to ask him why the stress over this afternoon, when his phone rings and the doorman lets him know Theobald and Cami have finally arrived. It’s not the first time you’ve met them. The first had been at your wedding, where introductions to most of Steve’s friends and extended family were done so in a rapid fire manner. They’d been kind enough; as much as one can be in a two minute conversation wherein you welcomed them and thanked them for coming to celebrate your “special day” with the love of your life.

But now, seeing them there in the flesh, brought a new wave of nervousness into your belly. Theobald Cletus, with his dark hair that resembles Steve’s, with tan skin and the beginnings of wrinkles that crease his forehead and around the corners of his mouth. And beside him, his stunning wife with silky red curls that fell to her waist in ringlets, delicately freckled cheeks, and impossibly green eyes. Ethereal—she looked ethereal and, by your guessing, quite a bit younger than her husband standing with a hand against the smallest point of her back.

As your mouth opens to speak and welcome them into your home, Cami rushes forward, curling her arms around your shoulders in a frighteningly tight hug that has you wincing and peering over your shoulder to your husband. Steve only shrugs as he steps forward and cups his hand around his cousin’s, only to be tugged forward into a hug of his own.

“Theobald, you’ve met my wife,” Steve finally says once you’ve managed to extract yourself from Cami long enough to sidle back up to him, his arm settling around your waist, palm curling affectionately around your hip. One of the appropriate touches you’ve discussed, and yet it has your head spinning all the same.

Just as it does every time.

“Ah, yes.” His eyes flicker to yours. Darker than your husband’s, corners twitching as his lips curl into a smile. “The new Mrs. Harrington. How could I forget that whirlwind affair?”

Head dipping uncomfortably, you press your palm against Steve’s where it rests against your hip, sliding your fingers between his to lace them tight. “It was pretty crazy, wasn’t it?” Awkwardly laughing, you turn to look to Steve for support. “Should we take this into the living room?”

“Please!” Cami exclaims, flicking her hair over her shoulders. “I would love to hear all about the honeymoon. I want all the details. Should we be expecting any little Harringtons soon?”

Just as you say, “Absolutely not,” Theobald echoes, “My cousin loves kids. Always wanted a brood of them.”

It’s expected, you think. It’s a common question after marriage, no matter how inappropriate. Society says once you’re married you’re to obviously have children next. Frankly, it’s archaic and a ridiculous practice. And even so, Theobald’s words strike a sudden sadness into your chest. This thought that Steve so deeply wants children. A thought you could completely see come to fruition based on his interactions with El and Will alone. They’d been immediately endeared to him. All wide eyes and bright laughter, vibrant conversation, his endless bantering with them.

Steve Harrington would be a good father to his future children one day with his real wife. Not the woman you are to him for the next three years.

However, it’s at this moment you rationalize the error in your plans. A real couple would have had these conversations about future children already.

“Not now, at least,” you giggle airily, curling your arm around Steve’s and tugging him close. His brows furrow as you add, “Right now I’m just enjoying spending time with my husband. I want to be a little selfish for a while yet.”

“Understandable,” Cami agrees, settling down on your living room couch, crossing her legs and revealing a stunning pair of Gucci pumps that likely cost your half of the rent while still living with Robin. “I love our two little gremlins, but they take up all our free time. Constantly running them around to school events, dance classes, sporting events.”

“Sweetheart, the au pair does all of that,” Theobald chuckles, earning a whack in the arm from his wife. “Enough about that. Tell me…how did you two meet? It all happened so fast.”

“As you already pointed out,” Steve warns, hand around yours growing tighter.

Cami moves to open the champagne bottle, easing the tension in the room with the echoing pop. Glasses are poured and passed around the table, glasses coming together in a soft ‘cheers’ before you bring the champagne flute to your lips and take a large swallow. Bubbles burst against your tongue, eyes training on Theobald’s, just as he passes a look your way.

A battle of wills then, you think.

“We met at a party,” you begin, removing your hand from Steve's and gripping the bottom of his chin, shifting him enough that he’s looking at you. “We’d known each other for a bit through our mutual friend, and we’d always kind of danced around one another. In the same spaces always, yet too nervous to make the first move.”

Steve watches you carefully as you weave your tale that isn’t really a tale. It’s mostly the truth, with the romance added in. But it comes naturally. Pours out of you with an unexpected ease that has Cami leaning into her husband’s shoulder, green eyes twinkling as you speak.

“And then one afternoon, Stevie bought me a drink and walked it over to where I was standing by myself. My friend had just left to use the restroom, and here he stood…all tall, dark, and handsome. We started talking that night and just realized how easy it was to be around one another. I’d never talked so much on a first date, and yeah—I considered that our first date. After that we spent nearly every day together. It didn’t take long for us both to realize we wanted to spend the rest of our lives together. Some might think it was rushed, but there’s that saying, right? When you know, you know. And with my school starting up again, and us wanting so badly to get married, we thought no time like the present. Now here we are.”

For emphasis, you lean forward. Close enough that Steve’s eyes cross, his mouth dropping a hint at the corners, before twitching upward when your lips press against the corner of his mouth. A tentative press of your skin just barely against his. You linger with your forehead against his, trying not to focus on the temperature in the room, or how it feels it’s creeping higher and higher with every passing moment you remain connected to him.

“Here we are,” Steve echoes, breath fanning against your bottom lip.

Were you to even move an inch, your mouths would connect. A thought he must have as well, because he brings his thumb up and taps your bottom lip gently, nuzzling your nose until you hear the excitable clapping of Cami’s hands where she’s sitting on the living room touch. Pushing the hem of your summer dress down back around your knees, you shift and take in the older man sitting across from you. His eyes are narrowed on your face, a twitch not unnoticed in his cheek as he jolts to his feet and suggests Steve and him have a little bit of time as ‘cousins’ on the private patio. Noticing your hesitance at him leaving your side, Steve brushes a gentle kiss against your forehead, pours you another glass of champagne, and promises he’ll be right back.

With the door closed and the men left to their own devices, you look over to Cami. Cami, the picture of beauty. An image of a woman who walks in this world of the elites and has no qualms about it; steps into it and commands it, whereas you’re still walking around on wobbly legs like a baby deer. Even her clothes look like they were made for her. Luxurious fabrics that ebb and flow with her every movement, high neck of her summer dress leading to a gorgeous diamond necklace falling to the hollow of her throat.

Across from her, your dress suddenly feels too tight. Gifted by your mother-in-law who insisted she owned her own fashion line, and therefore absolutely must dress her only daughter. A quick phone call wherein you protested her suggestions ended with a ring from the doorman alerting you a delivery of multiple garments had arrived for you. Various dresses for each occasion, pants, shoes, blouses and anything you could imagine ever needing were added to your closet. All elaborate in design, and becoming for a new wife to the CEO of a major contracting company. The biggest the city touted, if you were completely honest with yourself.

Today you wore an off the shoulder floral patterned dress and the diamond earrings gifted by your mother-in-law as a bridal shower gift. You’d pushed aside the thought of heels for the afternoon; instead opted for a comfy pair of sandals that were maybe in their last season of use, but now they only looked garish in the light beside the Gucci pumps on Cami’s feet.

Comparison, this ugly weed of a thing, grew up within you against your better wishes. Robbed you of what little air fell in and out of your lungs as you sat there, sipping your champagne. You didn’t care for these preconceived ideas of what a Harrington wife should look like, right? You were your own person, had been long before him, and would continue to be so after him. Yet sitting there, watching her gracefully move about the room, and commenting on the pictures you’d added from the wedding, reminds you of how some people were meant for this life. Some people were raised for it.

You were not.

“He looks so in love with you,” Cami trills, fingers running along the silver edge of your photo frame, lifting it nearer to her face for inspection. You know exactly which one it is. Jonathan had told the two of you to look one another in the eyes and press your foreheads together. He’d draped your veil over the both of you, the setting sun basking you both in a golden hour halo. It’s dreamy. A shot so dreamy it’s easy to believe it is of a man deeply in love with his bride. “That new love look. Cherish it. You know how these Harrington men are.”

Actually…you don’t.

You’re not interested in even asking her what she intends by her words, but when she places the photo back down and turns your way, there’s a glimmer of something wet on her lower lashes. Awkwardly, you clear your throat, reaching over and offering to refill her glass. She heartily accepts, fingers combing through long amber locks as she settles back down on the couch across from you, crossing her legs once more. Again, she’s the statuesque image of perfection; cracks visible in her foundation, yet devastatingly beautiful all the same.

“You’ve got the best one,” she sniffles, grasping a piece of cheese and a cracker within her index and pointer. “Stevie is a sweetheart. Always has been. Theobald is hard on him, and I always try to tell him to ease up. The late Mr. Harrington was always so rough on his son as it is without Theo breathing down his neck.”

The late Mr. Harrington.

You knew very little of him. From what you’ve gathered—the very scraps of things here and there, as Steve never really mentioned him—their relationship, while his father had been alive, was a strained one. His parents had him later in life; a quick Google search would show as much. The heir to the company born with a silver platter before him, wanting for naught, pushed into the limelight.

Still, hearing Cami talk about Steve…with pity—grief tightens like a vice around your heart. Envisioning those hazel eyes of your husband, staring up expectantly at a man who never saw his son’s achievements for what they were. And now, at his young age, trying to make his late father proud at the expense of his own self.

Long hours, constant meetings, coaching calls. Pushing, striving, hustling.

With a long sigh, you glance toward the outside patio, where you can see your husband with the sleeves of his shirt rolled up. His left hand curls around the stem of his glass, hand gesticulating wildly in the air as he talks with Theobald, hair in disarray. Like he’s been raking his fingers through it. Eyes trail his shoulders next, along the contours of sinewy muscle, then further up where you can visibly see the rigidity in his form.

“Steve is…”

Your voice breaks, eyes tipping downward to your bubbly drink in hand. Cami’s fingers curl around your wrist, a sympathetic frown lining her pristine features, and you know she’s thinking you’re caught up in your emotions. But in reality, it’s because there are so many things he is, all of which swirl like a muddied mess in your hazy mind.

“Steve is a good man. He’s the best man. I’m really lucky to have him.”

When you glance up, there he is, grin gracing his features. It’s plain as day he’s heard you; those stiff shoulders slacken. Tension eases from the curve of his mouth, as well as in the grip of his fingers around his glass. Instead his face morphs into elation, feet carrying him over to where you sit so he can once more slide an arm around your waist and tug you close.

Theobald regards you carefully in the distance, taking in the way you slide into the crook of your husband’s chest, seeking the warmth of him. The comfort of someone in your corner, seated in a room ripe with scrutiny.

“Thank you,” Steve whispers against your ear, just as Cami dives into conversation about her and Theo’s children, revealing photo after photo of their adorable faces on her iPhone screen.

“We’re the Harringtons, aren’t we?”

He chuckles brightly, nodding. “Yeah. Yeah, we are.”

Day shifts into evening.

Conversations drift around lighter topics. Talks of your schooling, your plans for the future, the business you’ve started. A fact which, to your unamusement, Theobald finds more than mildly intriguing when he later corners you in the kitchen as Steve and Cami flip through the photos she had taken at the wedding on her phone (despite Steve’s pitying gazes for you to rescue him). Instead, you’d offered to start cleaning up, knowing your husband and you had dinner plans with another couple from the office.

“A dog walking business…” He mutters, elbow dropping down onto the counter. “How quaint.”

“It’s extra money,” you say simply, placing a watery glass into the drying rack. “You’re a businessman, aren’t you? Isn’t it better to make all my money now while I’m younger?”

“That I am. And I would agree,” he murmurs, eyes trailing your profile. “It’s just curious since you know how wealthy your husband is. He’s CEO of the company now, and that’s not even counting the hefty inheritance he got as the sole Harrington son. That kind of money is generational. He could never work another day in his life and be well off.”

“My husband is supportive of my endeavors,” you grumble out, training your eyes on the kitchen backsplash.

“Obviously,” he agrees goodnaturedly. “He loves you. Everyone can see it. All of a sudden our hard working golden child is leaving the office at normal times, running home to his lovely wife. I just hope he knows what he’s doing.”

Heat flashes like lava in your gut over the revelation that your ruse is working. It’s hindered by Theobald’s latter statement, mind stuttering over his blasé persona. The question as to whether or not Steve knows what he’s doing. Trying to hide your piqued interest, you harden your expression into one of neutrality.

As your mouth opens to speak, Cami cuts you off with a shrill, “Theobald, they have to get ready for their dinner. We’ve overstayed our welcome. But I would absolutely love for us to do this again!”

Uncertain if you’re happy or sad about this latest development because you still needed further clarity over Theo’s words, you place the remaining glasses into the drying rack and slide your rings back into place, pressing yourself into Steve’s side as he approaches. For a dramatic flair, you even press your left hand to his abdomen, rings glinting in the light, head leaning against his chest as you wish them a wonderful rest of their evening.

Theobald gives you one last fleeting look just when his wife nearly strangles you in another bear hug, and claps a hand against his younger cousin’s shoulder. “We will definitely have to do this again. It was nice officially meeting you, Mrs. Harrington.”

The doors slide closed and a sigh spills from your lips. Against you, Steve relaxes, hand rubbing up and down the length of your spine idly, eyes still fixed on the doors across from him. Slipping away from him, you quickly gather the rest of the snacks and glasses from the living room table and drop them down into the sink, pinching at the bridge of your nose.

“Is he always like that?” You wonder out loud, whirling around to face Steve.

His head jerks at your words, mouth pulling southward. The solidness of his right hip rests against the kitchen counter. You try to not dawdle on the way his bicep twitches as it rests on the surface beside him, nor as his fingers sprawl around the base of his jaw, keeping his head propped up.

“He’s usually worse,” he admits. “What did he say to you?”

“Just commented on my business,” you tell him, deciding to ease in with that before asking what his cousin had meant by ‘hoping Steve knows what he’s doing’, moving to place a plate in the drying rack. “He couldn’t seem to fathom how I would resort to the life of a peasant, when I should be rolling around in your endless buckets of money.”

Snorting, he teases, “Someone’s angry.”

“Yeah, and for once not at you, so I’d be thankful.” Your nose wrinkles as he barks out a laugh, head tipping back in his glee. Mirth bubbles up within your belly at the lyrical sound spilling from your husband, the way his cheeks stretch wide on his face, how the corners of his eyes crinkle in his happiness. “I told him I liked what I do. Is that so wrong? I like having my own thing. Just like you have your own thing.”

Without a warning, he turns the water off. Grips your shoulders lightly, turning you to him. “Theo is an entitled idiot, okay? He thinks he runs the company and the world, and anyone who doesn’t live like him is beneath him. Notice how he’s got this constant look on his face of disgust?”

At that, your lips twitch. Steve coaxes it further by shaking you slightly, earning a giggle. “He does kind of look like he hates everyone around him. It’s a wonder he married Cami. She seems sweet.”

“She is sweet. A saint for putting up with him for all these years, honestly,” Steve says, giving you one last shake until you’re wiping your hands off and slouching against his frame. “What?”

“I want a selfish hug,” you grumble against his shirt, face pressing into a sternum.

“A selfish hug?” You can hear the questioning lilt, the probing in his kind voice.

Nodding, you step closer. The tips of your sandals meet his leather shoes, hem of your dress spilling over the dark material. Your head shifts just the slightest, ear resting over the curve of his chest, relishing in the warmth of another body. This. Hugging? It’s not new. You’ve been practicing. As odd as that sounds, and though you don’t want to unpack it, since your argument with Steve he’s come home every day and greeted you with one. You’d say you’re pros at this point.

“And what might a selfish hug be?” He muses, hands coming up to rest against the center of your back.

“I just stand like this,” you begin, dropping your arms to your sides, letting them dangle at your hips. “And you hold me.”

You can feel the vibration of his laugh against your ear, but his arms tighten around you all the same, holding you in place. Melting into him, you rest in the comfort of his embrace. Merely focus on the sound of his breath pouring in and out of his lungs, the gentle beat of his heart beneath your ear, the brush of his thumb against your skin, soothing you.

“You’re too much,” he says, but there’s no weight behind the words. Can feel his mouth curling upward against your ear.

“Thanks, Steve.”

For the evening. For helping you in a time of need. For holding you now. For holding you tomorrow. You’re not really sure you know what you mean. But all you do know for certain is that, when his arms tug you closer, you loop yours around his waist, and your selfish hug becomes a real one.

Lightning streaks the sky. Bright white illuminates your bedroom, then settles into dark once more. A loud boom echoes, rattling the foundations of your home. Jolts your bed, and thus your body out of it. Grasping at your chest, you try to tamper the frantic rise and fall. The rush of breath forcing itself in and out of your screaming lungs, ejected from your dreams into waking so suddenly.

Another flash sparks your room in a moonlit glow. Falls dark a second later as you brace for the crack of sound that pierces your ears after. Groaning, you grasp the edge of a fluffy blanket on the foot of your bed and curl it around your shoulders, padding through your home in search of the living room, sights set on watching Netflix until you fall back asleep from reruns of your favorite shows.

Only upon entering, you find you’re not alone. Already doused in colorful light from the episode of New Girl playing on the screen is none other than your husband. Where you’re standing you can see the frames of the thin glasses he wears, the unkempt bed hair at the top of his head, the hoodie pulled over his body to block out the air conditioned chill in the living room.

“You’re awake…” It comes out hoarse, the rasp of your voice drawing your husband’s attention. “And you’re watching without me?”

The mock gasp has him moving over on the couch to make space for you, your rear dropping down into the couch cushion beside him. There’s another blanket across his lap, impossibly soft and a pretty navy color that pops against the pale fabric of your carpet. Getting comfortable, you unloop yours from around your shoulders and drape it across your bare thighs, sleep shorts doing very little to block out the chill in the air. Once satisfied, you lean back and watch the chaos between Jess and Nick unfolding on the television screen.

“What are you doing awake?” you ask after some time. Wince as another boom of thunder rattles the walls of your home.

“Couldn't sleep,” he says, breaking off into a yawn. “Had a lot on my mind.”

“From dinner or…?”

Dinner itself hadn’t been stressful—at least nothing that occurred would have alluded to as much. You’d met up at an Italian restaurant with a business partner of Steve’s and the business partner’s husband. Two older men in their fifties, with graying hair and a kindness that radiated from them. Most of the conversation had been of things outside of work, so you’re uncertain as to what might be bothering him.

“Not dinner,” he confirms, pausing the show on the TV screen. His head rolls back to rest against the plush cushion, hands coming up to press into his face. Slides his palm down the contours, exhaling deeply. “I really don’t want to talk about it.”

“Oh,” you mutter softly, picking at a nonexistent thread on the edge of your blanket. “That’s fine. I just figured—”

“It’s nothing personal toward you. I just don’t want to bother you with it. Why are you up?” He queries, head turning to look in your direction.

“You never bother me.”

Steve levels you with a blank stare and you laugh. “I’m not afraid of thunder…but it definitely woke me,” you admit quietly, sounding more than a forlorn without meaning to. “My room gets really dark at night with the curtains, so when it lit up from the lightning I was a little spooked.”

“Understandably,” he says. “Want me to grab you coffee or tea or something?”

Head perking up, you ask, “Do we still have the camomile? If it’s no trouble, I mean…”

“I wouldn’t be asking you if it was,” he says, but there’s no hint of any condescension there, only his increasingly familiar thoughtfulness.

You lean your chin over the top of the couch to catch the retreating form of Steve’s back swathed in his dark hoodie. “Thank you.”

“It’s the least I can do,” he says, starting up your warm drink. “Want anything else? We still have those chocolate covered strawberries from dinner.”

“Do you want the chocolate strawberries from dinner?”

His grin turns wry. “Maybe.”

“Bring them over, you grown up baby,” you tease, extending a hand so he can place the covered plate in your awaiting palm.

Peeling back the tinfoil, you rest the tray on the coffee table, hiking your blanket higher around your thighs. Steve’s pouring hot water into a mug that says ‘Future Veterinarian,’ humming a familiar tune as he works.

“You usually do honey and…a bucket load of sugar, right?”

Eyes roll. “I like a spoonful of honey in my camomile and nothing else. The sugar is for my iced coffees, thank you very much. Also thank you for making sure Hopper always has it on standby lately.”

“What’s that thing you said to me when we first talked about us getting married?” He taps his chin mock thoughtfully, his other hand twirling a spoon around the inside of your cup. “Happy wife, happy life starts with always knowing her coffee order.”

It’s true, and you hide your lips behind your palm at the realization he’d been listening as he crosses the space between you and rests the steaming mug in your hand, muttering quickly, “Be careful, it’s really hot.”

“Thank you,” you say as he drops back down into the couch and plucks a chocolate covered strawberry off the tray. “I know you didn’t want to talk about what’s bothering you…but I figure…I don’t know. It’s storming out, we’re both not getting much sleep tonight, we could play a game or something.”

“A game?”

Nodding, you add, “An icebreaker. I know we talk more now, but we could try and get to know each other better. A little look into the person we married.”

Your husband shifts on the couch beside you. Presses his back into the arm rest and stretches out, arching a brow pointedly. Smirking, you do the same. Shift just enough so your back is up against the opposite end, your socked feet just barely brushing Steve’s.

“Okay. Night out or night in?” you ask.

“Before…night out.”

“Before?”

“Well, now you force me to watch Gilmore Girls.”

“I don’t force you! And it’s only been a few days. I’m sure it’s an absolute horror of spending time with the woman you fake married,” you gasp, feigning terror. “Just admit it. You like spending time at home.”

His eyes are set on yours as he says, “I like spending time at home.”

“I’d agree for myself as well. Life is so busy as it is lately, it’s nice having a space to come back to.”

One thing you’re very grateful for on a growing list is the space your new bedroom has given you. Sure, it can get lonely, but it’s an escape from the long days, a haven from stress, a bed to crawl back to when your eyes can hardly stay open any longer after a particularly hard day at clinicals.

“My turn,” Steve says, crossing his arms over his middle. And no, you don’t allow heat to crawl across your chest at the mere sight of his chest and arms flexing from the motion. “Would you rather go forward or backward in time?”

“And what would be my purpose of going forward or backward? Am I rectifying my mistakes? Seeing the future? Looking to see how my life pans out?”

“I…it’s whatever you want it to be.” He blanches.

“I don’t really have a lot of regrets in life. I make a choice and however the cookie crumbles is how it crumbles. Exhibit A,” you say, holding aloft your left hand, where two rings glint in the dim living room. “So I probably would want to go forward. But that’s dangerous, because if you go too far forward, you might see things you don’t like. I definitely wouldn’t want to know how I, uh, you know? Check out of here. What about you?”

Steve pauses for a moment, brows drawn in thought. “Honestly? There are things I’d want to change about the past, sure. But I think I’d want to see the future. See if all I’m doing is worth it, you know?”

“You don’t think what you’re doing right now is worth it?” You wonder if he’s talking about the business. Assume he must be, but don’t press any further.

“I wonder sometimes, yeah,” he admits.

“Well, what would you be doing if it weren’t what you’re doing right now? To see if something else would potentially be worth it.”

He rubs a hand along his neck, shrugging. “I thought about being a teacher once. My dad thought that was a silly idea. But I’ve always been good with children, and I think I could have been good at that.”

“You are good with children,” you tell him, thinking to Will and El. To the friends you’d met at dinner in the past weeks who brought their little ones. “I don’t think that’s a silly idea at all. Not in the slightest, and I’m sorry if anyone ever made you feel that way. Like your interests were inconsequential.”

“Thank you.” Clearing his throat, he asks, “Movie night or date night?”

“Are you asking me on a date?” His eyes grow wide at that. Cheeks darken visibly in the moonlit living room. “I’m teasing you, Harrington. I think there’s a case that those can be one in the same. I would say broader…I love the idea of going out for a date, but I love those inside sort of dates more. They’re more intimate, there’s the comfort of your shared spaces, the fact there aren’t any crowds around you. Only that important quality time with your partner.”

“I don’t have much to contribute there, seeing as I haven’t dated much in the past year. And now I won’t be for another three years.” He chuckles, combing fingers through his hair.

“Okay, this question is super serious.” You fold your hands across your midsection, inhaling deeply, eyes shut. “Would you rather have a third nipple or an extra toe?”

“Seriously!”

“I’m very serious, Steve.”

“Extra toe.” He reaches up to rub the back of his neck again, wincing slightly as he presses into a spot between his shoulder blades.

Your lips tug southward. “Are you hurting?”

“Just my office chair, I’m sure,” he grumbles, nonchalant.

“Get on the floor.”

His brows arch. “Huh?”

“On the floor,” you repeat, tapping the space in front of you on the carpet below. “In front of me.”

“Why?”

“Do you trust me?”

He doesn’t answer. Instead, long limbs slip off the edge of the couch and settle down where you’ve asked. You move to tuck his hoodie in as best as you can, fingers moving to spread across the slope of his shoulders. He exhales deeply at the first press of your hands in the muscle wrought with tension. A low sigh spills free, head tipping back to rest on the cushion nearest to your knee. Fingers crave to brush the hair along his scalp, to see if he’ll make that same, soft sigh once more. But instead you continue, pressing slowly into his flesh, listening to his cues, figuring out what works and doesn’t.

“Would you rather have a big family or a small one?” You ask after Steve has gone quiet, thinking back briefly to the moment earlier with Theobald and Cami.

Steve, with his wishes to be a father. Steve, who wants a huge brood of Harrington babies. Steve, who wants a family.

And yet it’s not even that. Not the questions as to what he sees for his future. It’s the tangible worry of slipping up in your facade. Of revealing too many cracks in the foundations of your dynamics. That had been the first, and you know if this relationship is going to hold up for three years, communication is a must. Absolute transparency at all times, so as to not muck it all up and land yourselves both in some hot water.

“Growing up, it was just me. My parents had me a little older in their life. They were already further into their careers by the time I was born. So…it was often just the au pair and myself,” he explains, letting go of another deep breath.

His body slackens against your knee caps. Warm flesh of your husband pliant beneath your fingertips.

“I always had this dream of giving my kids the opposite of what I had. Always knowing love, family outings, doing everything with them. Dance class, football, acting—whatever they wanted. And I’d wanted as many as possible. A silly dream of six of them, running all over the world together as a family.”

“It’s not a silly dream. None of your dreams are ever silly, Steve.”

Warmth pools as Steve slides his hand up and covers yours where it rests against his shoulder. Heart stuttering, you continue, “Your family will be lucky to have you some day. I, for one, haven’t given much thought to that aspect of life. I hope Theo and Cami didn’t find that suspect. I just…”

“Have been busy with school. You’re becoming a doctor, that’s time and hard work. No one can fault you for that.”

“Right. Yeah.”

You resume your kneading, fingers stroking at shoulders, down the sides of his neck, attentive to all the tension. He grows softer beneath your fingertips, head against your knee, his eyes closed. Where you’re sitting you can see the moles on his face, the length of his lashes, the lines of his nose. Pretty. He’s pretty, and it’s always something you’ve known, but being so close—

“Sunrise or sunset,” Steve asks.

“Hmm, sunrise.” You poke at the middle of his forehead, and hazel eyes meet yours. “That one was simple.”

“I could tell you were overthinking,” he says simply. “We’re not going to be perfect at this marriage thing. But no one expects us to be.”

��I still think we need to get our stories straight at the very least. And I sorta messed that one up with the honeymoon baby thing.” You shrug, palms sliding down a bit onto his upper chest. He’s still sitting there, taking you in with his stare, hand around yours. “Kind of why I suggested this game.”

He offers you a gentle smile, saying, “Then let’s keep going.”

The conversation continues until the sun begins to change colors. Until the rain has since stopped, voices carrying above the television playing low in the background. You learn Steve’s a romantic; loves movies like the Titanic and The Notebook. And will also admit to enjoying some of the same romantic comedies you do.

He prefers rainy days, because he enjoys the respite they give from a constantly busy city just outside the walls of your home. He’d rather have happiness than wealth; enjoys chocolate chip cookies fresh out of the oven for dessert (and you make a note to pick up some stuff to make them on your next planned night together); he’d never had any pets growing up, but he’d love a dog.

And you tell him about yourself. How you love cozy socks and would prefer scrubs over real clothes; how you also never had pets growing up and would love to adopt and foster as many as possible one day; how you enjoyed fantasy over romantic movies; how you’d watched Titanic about a hundred times in your life and you still cried.

How you wanted to watch it with him next, and he agreed, stating it would be the next thing you do when you cook together.

Before long he’s yawning and your eyes are closing. His fingers remain around yours as you knead his muscles, prattling on about your plans for the week, school, your friends. And he talks about his own schedule, his meetings, proposes dinner for the both of you that upcoming Saturday. A cooked meal in, with a movie and some wine. Maybe you tease him a little, because he makes it easy when he blushes that pretty pink, and maybe he grins up at you fondly, eyes hooded in his sleepy daze.

Eventually, you lay on your side and he remains in front of you on the floor. You’re hardly awake as he drapes a blanket over your form and tucks a pillow under your head, whispering to one another as the sun starts to come up over the city.

Eventually, both of you fall silent at last, comforting sleep there to find you.

“I want to make it very clear before we go in there that we are not getting a dog. We are donating all the things we bought earlier, and then we are going home and having dinner together,” Steve reiterates for the umpteenth time that day.

“We are not getting a dog,” you repeat, mock stonily, looking your husband dead in the eyes.

Clearly unamused, he shoves at the arm you have jokingly curled around his forearm, but there’s no malice there. Only a gentle huff of laughter as he opens his car door and rushes around the other side to help you out. You never need him to, but he insists every time. Even offers an arm for you to grab as you hop onto the sidewalk. Once back on solid land, summer dress dancing around your kneecaps, Steve walks around to the back of the car and lifts the box of pet food, blankets and toys you’d picked up while at the pet store. Today, you decided, you wanted to give back to the local shelter in your new town.

And maybe you had an ulterior motive of trying to realize a dream of your husband’s by making him fall in love with a shelter dog in a way where his only option is to bring them home to live with you forever. But he’s been adamant all morning—so certain today’s events will not lead to four legs becoming part of your odd little family.

Inside, you’re greeted by one of the workers. A woman named Chelsea rushes around the counter to collect your donations and asks if you’d like to walk around a bit. Steve’s reluctant at your side, sunglasses peeled off and tucked into the neck of his shirt, but he comes along all the same as you grip his palm within your own and drag him along behind you.

You pass dozens of kittens and cats. Young and old all alike as you go. Some who meow as you pass, and others who linger in dark corners of their confines. It breaks your heart seeing so many, wanting to adopt them all, knowing you’re unable to. Sensing your unease, Steve squeezes your hand tighter and listens for the both of you while Chelsea speaks and your mind wanders.

“Down here are all our adoptable dogs.”

It’s a sight you never get used to. Dogs barking as you pass, bodies brushing against their cages, yearning for attention. You linger by Chelsea as you walk, rubbing noses and ears and backs. Tongues glide over your palm, wet noses brush your skin, dark eyes hold yours through metal bars. Somewhere in the midst of introducing yourself to all your newest furry friends, you find Steve’s hand is no longer in yours. Turning on the heel, you find him crouched low to the ground, fingers curled inside metal bars, softly speaking to the animal hidden within.

“Oh,” Chelsea mutters, shock evident in her tone. Steve looks up to her imploringly, then glances back at the dog inside. “That’s a new arrival. A ten month old male Bernedoodle. He’s a black tricolor puppy. His previous owners got him as a gift, and turned him over when he started getting bigger. They’re a smaller breed, but have a lot of energy and unfortunately you see a lot of this happening. People buy luxury pets and drop them off when they become too much. He’s been very timid since he arrived.”

“He just lost his family,” Steve says to no one, swallowing thickly. The woman at your side doesn’t speak, only watches as your husband continues to gently coax the puppy forward. “Hey buddy. I’m Steve. Wanna come over here? No?”

“Should we…” the woman beside you begins.

“Yeah, let’s give them a moment,” you mutter, a little breathless as you turn around and face the other direction, quiet footsteps carrying you further away.

But you still hear it.

Still hear Steve’s voice in your ears. A sad, “I know what it’s like. Feeling left behind, left alone. Especially from the people you want to love you most. But you don’t need to be afraid of me. I get it.”

There’s an echo of soft paws padding against a tiled floor. And the soft exhale from Steve. “There you go. See, I’m your friend. I’m here. You don’t have to be afraid.”

And when you and the shelter worker turn around, you find Steve with his fingers in the puppy’s fur, that pink tongue of his brushing over the inside of your husband’s wrist. That resolve in Steve’s eyes crumbles, your heart shattering along with it as you press the heel of your palm to your sternum.

He turns to Chelsea and asks, “Can we take him out? Just for a minute?”

Chelsea passes you a knowing look and that minute Steve requests turns into an hour in the yard outside of the shelter. The puppy seems hesitant at first, lingering near Steve’s thighs as you stand nearby. But once Chelsea hands Steve a frisbee and ball, it’s as though the puppy is sparked to life once more. Soon enough he’s frolicking around the field, playful yips streaking the summer silence as he retrieves his toys and rushes back over to Steve, paws pouncing playfully against your husband’s designer jeans.

But he doesn’t care.

No—you haven’t seen him light up like this in the nearly three months you’ve been married. The joy illuminated his features. The crinkle of his eyes at the corners. The belly laughs as the puppy eventually knocks him to the ground and demands belly rubs on the grassy floor below. He falls in love before your eyes. With no warning, impossibly fast, and so suddenly it comes as no shock to either you nor Chelsea when he asks about adoption.

As you sit in the lobby with the puppy on a leash on the floor, you turn to Steve, grinning widely. “You said we weren’t getting a dog.”

Steve pats his new fur son’s head and grins as the dog tips his head back to look longingly into his new father’s eyes. It’s sickeningly sweet, and does things to your insides that makes you feel hot all over. You chalk it up to the shoddy air conditioner system, tugging at the neckline of your dress to let the air chill your slick skin.

“I couldn’t leave him,” he says, brushing fingers along a furry ear.

“He picked you.”

“He did, didn’t he?” Fond. Smitten. He’s so in love it’s ridiculous, and all you feel is affection.

Affection.

Towards your husband.

New. But maybe not so scary.

You lean down to pet the puppy’s neck. He jumps up and scrambles up with his front paws against your lap, licking a broad stripe along your chin. “Steve, we have a puppy.”

Your first pet.

His, too.

“Yeah,” he says, but he’s only staring at you. You swallow. “I guess we do.”

A few questions and references and a small adoption fee later, and you’re both the newest proud parents of your still presently unnamed new puppy who pokes his head in the front seat as you drive to the nearest pet store in search of all the things you’ll need to make his transition as simple as possible.

Steve, ever doting as he is, grabs the leash as soon as he helps the little guy out and greets you as usual on your side of the vehicle. You spend the better half of the afternoon purchasing things for him. A dog bed, food, toys, a new collar with his name and address engraved into it.

Charlie Harrington, you both eventually decide, when the cashier asks how you’d like it engraved.

Charlie Harrington, who the doormen at your apartment building immediately fall in love with as you later walk in, you holding the puppy’s leash this time, and Steve trying his hardest to carry all the things you bought.

Charlie Harrington who bounds happily into your home and immediately starts sniffing around in his new space, excited to simply be around people who love him in such a short span of time and want to play with him like he deserves.

“I’ll get started on dinner, if you want to show your fur child around the house,” you tease, laying out Charlie’s shiny new bowls on the floor, and the basket of toys and bones you got for him in the living room, right by his bed beside it.

“You are a sneaky woman,” he jokes, coming up behind you in the kitchen.

Heat blooms where he rests his hand on your shoulder and presses a kiss to your cheek like it’s something he’s done before in the confines of your home, with no one looking. So casually, and yet stark in contrast to the riot of butterflies that stir to life in your stomach.

“And why might that be?”

“Played that ice breaker game with me, found out I never had a pet, and then brought me to a shelter…where I then got a pet.”

You shrug, turning on the stovetop to let the water boil. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. But you’re welcome. Now go—play with him. I know you’re itching to. You’re like a little kid on Christmas right now. It’s kind of cute, Harrington.”

“Thank you.”

He smacks another kiss to your cheek, his face pink from your compliment, before rushing into the living room where you hear Charlie barking as he’s once again joined by his new best friend. You reach over to tap Steve’s phone, where Spotify is already open from the car ride, and hit ‘play,’ Leon Bridges the background music to your cooking in the kitchen and Steve’s laughter as he crawls on his hands and knees to rub Charlie’s stomach on the floor.

Perfect.

It’s about as perfect as a day could be.

And later, as you sit together in the dining room, with Charlie sitting patiently in the corner, and talk about the evening, you start to think maybe being married to Steve Harrington for three years will be a little more difficult than you imagined it would be.

Because the feelings stirring in your chest are beyond that of friendship.

No—there’s a suddenness to the clarity of your realization that you like your husband. And the sinking reality that this is merely transactional.

In three years you’ll go your separate ways. Just as you both intended months ago at that coffee shop table.

“You’re overthinking again,” Steve points out, reaching over to center your engagement ring on your left hand. His thumb lingers over the diamonds. “I was telling you about the benefit gala in a few weeks.”

“Oh,” you mutter tiredly. “Sorry. Yeah, uhm, I’ll go. Obviously. It’s part of our arrangement.”

“If you don’t want to go with me…”

“No, I’ll go,” you say, taking a sip of your wine glass. “Black tie dinner event, I’m assuming?”

“Buy yourself a new dress kind of event, yeah.”

“Okay, yeah.”

You nod.

It’ll be October.

Approaching four months into your agreement. Time is already flying.

“Our first big event as a couple outside of our wedding,” you state plainly, gathering your things and Steve’s as you rise to your feet. He grabs the wine glasses and follows you down the hall to your kitchen, dumping all your dirty pasta plates inside. “Anyone I should know or be aware of when we’re there?”

“It’s a lot of partners in the company. Some celebrities, actors, musicians, models. Eddie will be there—he’s been invited. It’s a little bit of everyone. This time they’ve organized donations for a shelter for homeless youth in the city.” He hands you your wine glass, peering into your eyes. Noting your lingering hesitance from your overthinking once more, he continues, “I can cancel you as my plus one. Say you’re not feeling well—”

“No,” you place a hand on his sternum. Pause when you realize what you’ve done. He trails his eyes south where you touch. You don’t move away. “I love the purpose of the benefit. I want to be there. I-I want to go with you.”

“Good,” he says, stepping closer. You could reach out and touch the outline of his jaw like this. The lines of his perfect nose. “Because I want you there with me.”

You don’t miss the way his stare lingers on your face, or the timber of his voice. The darkness in the depths of his eyes. How the weight of his chest against your palm as he pushes forward has it stuck as a barrier between the two of you. Mere inches of separation.

It’s confusing, maddening, and terrifying all the same.

Two years and nine months.

You’ve got this.

#lunalovessteve #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington x you #Steve Harrington x reader #fake husband!steve harrington #steve harrington modern au #modern!steve harrington #steve harrington x female reader #steve harrington x fem!reader

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they-call-me-haiku · 5 months

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whenever someone says they dislike huntlow, the usual comeback from toxic huntlow fans is that “you're a misogynist and you don't want to see the woman in a relationship being stronger”. so i want to address this issue today. is huntlow bad only because willow is stronger than hunter and isn't a damsel in distress?

in my opinion, absolutely not. that's not the case. i myself am a fan of subverted tropes and relationships where the woman isn't just a passive damsel with no personality. i like seeing independent women and i like seeing men being vulnerable for once.

to demonstrate my point on why huntlow doesn't pull off this trope well, let me compare it to a ship with a similar dynamic: sokka and suki from avatar the last airbender.

let's go through each of the reasons why sukka works as a ship where huntlow fails.

1. Does it make sense for the characters?

the first question here is: do the roles of the strong independent woman and weaker man suit these characters?

sokka was introduced as.. just a guy. he was a regular teenager who wasn't trained in combat. he could fight well enough if he wanted to and being the only man in a village full of mostly children and elders, he was the best warrior in his village (if we are even to believe his claims in s1, that is).

suki, on the other hand, was a trained warrior. she had spent her whole life training in combat and fighting to continue kyoshi's legacy. in her very first appearance, suki is confirmed to be a skilled warrior who is much stronger than sokka.

this setup makes perfect sense. it wouldn't come as a surprise later on that suki is stronger or a better fighter than sokka, and would have to rescue him or help him out in a moment of crisis.

now let's come to huntlow. in s2, hunter is introduced as the emperor's right-hand man who is young but powerful. while most of his intimidation factor came from his artificial staff, it was clear that he was not an amateur and had decent combat skills.

this assumption is only solidified when we see him go head to head with amity, only losing because 1. he was using a new staff 2. he was sleep deprived and 3. he was in an extremely erratic emotional state.

willow, on the other hand, was the sokka in this relationship. she was a regular teenager who grew up in a normal family and went to a regular magic high school.

she was certainly incredibly skilled in plant magic but she was not a trained child soldier like hunter. she had a lot of potential to be a good fighter but she had only recieved the education that every other student had recieved. not to mention, most of her stronger magic came from her emotional outbursts.

so.. does the whole girlboss-malewife dynamic work with huntlow? no. it really doesn't. even if willow trained and grew as a witch, there's no reason why she should be stronger and more skilled in combat than hunter, who had to pass seemingly impossible trials in order to qualify as the golden guard. especially since after the first half of s2, hunter was not only weaker than willow but just weak in general.

i get it, he doesn't have natural magic like the others. but he was still shown to be a very competent fighter. he was also shown to be cunning and strategic, being able to find a way out of any situation if he wanted to. but after joining the hexsquad, he is dumbed down to willow's shy and pathetic boyfriend, who doesn't really do much on his own.

2. are they in character when in a relationship?

when writing a relationship, this is really important. if you write a relationship where one or both characters have to act wildly out of character to make sense for the relationship to happen, those characters are not compatible. it's like when your friend acts uncomfortably different around their crush or partner.

let's start with sokka and suki.

sokka is goofy, cynical and quick-witted, with or without suki. his relationship with suki doesn't drastically change his character, but it does improve it. suki helps sokka change his misogynistic worldviews and respect women, but apart from that necessary improvement, sokka is still the same. he is not out of character when he is with suki.

as for suki herself, we don't see a lot of her away from sokka but it's still safe to assume that she is being herself around sokka. she is not forced into a new role in order to be in a relationship with sokka. the times we do see her on her own, she is pretty much the same rational, independent and nonchalant person that she is around sokka.

and yet, both of them have incredible chemistry and very clearly care for each other. it's not one-sided and it doesn't feel unnatural.

but huntlow?

hunter is introduced as a sarcastic and bratty but deeply traumatized teenager. he is quick to start a banter with whoever he is with, he tends to talk too much, and he generally has a nonchalant attitude to cover up with trauma.

but with willow? hunter is not just shy or awkward around her, he is a completely different person. i can understand that being attracted to a person can make you act strangely sometimes. but with hunter, that awkwardness never fades away. he is always blushing around her, he is often portrayed as pathetic and helpless, and constantly needing willow's support and guidance.

as for willow, she is introduced as this insecure and good-natured teenager. after her confrontation with amity, willow is pushed to the back for a while. all we know about her at that time is that she's the supportive mom friend of the group. she builds her confidence after a while but she is still shown as a kind person who doesn't use force on someone else, unless necessary.

but with hunter? willow is suddenly not just confident but also dominant and forceful. she basically snatches him from the sky and drags him to the ground, just to invite him to her flyer derby team. hunter is practically terrified at this point, but it's played off as a fun cute-meet. later, when hunter wants to leave the team for understandable reasons, instead of respecting his wishes, willow once again forces him to join her again.

i wouldn't call willow toxic or abusive, because she isn't. but i would say that she didn't respect hunter's boundaries in the slightest. she doesn't treat anyone else the way she treats hunter. she's not exactly mean to him but she also does not seem to respect him as an individual. again, she is written wildly out of character just so that she could fulfil the role of the “powerful girlboss” in the relationship. and it doesn't help that a dominant and forceful figure is the last thing hunter needs, considering how he was controlled and abused by his uncle his whole life.

3. Equality

it is my opinion that in a relationship, both individuals should play an important role. and they should balance each other out, instead of clashing with each other. it doesn't necessarily have to be an “opposites attract” situation, they just need to have qualities that brings a balance to the relationship.

in sokka's and suki's relationship, we've already established that suki is the brawn. she's the trained warrior and her agility, skill and speed are her strengths. sokka, on the other hand, is the brains. suki is still a rational and smart person but sokka is the strategist, the “idea guy”.

here, there's a balance. neither sokka nor suki are weak or incompetent, they're just skilled in different areas.

but when it comes to huntlow, willow is the brawn while hunter.. does close to nothing. after meeting willow, he's basically useless. the most impactful thing he does is stand up against belos in “Thanks to Them” and rescue willow from a short fall in the next episode. otherwise, he is mostly pushed to the back despite, again, having a personality and his own strengths prior to meeting willow. the problem here isn't that hunter shouldn't be weak or vulnerable, but rather that he is forced into the damsel role when it goes against his original character.

4. Screentime, interaction and development

one thing that huntlow and sukka had in common is neither ship had too much screentime together. suki wasn't officially part of the gaang until s3 and before that, she just gets two interactions with sokka. but these interactions were used to their fullest potential.

when they first meet each other, sokka and suki do not get along well. sokka was convinced that women aren't good warriors and his pride is hurt by the fact that suki is stronger than him, while suki is understandably put off by sokka's misogynistic and condescending attitude. after he tries to teach her how to fight and is consequently defeated by her, sokka rethinks his worldview. he goes back to suki and asks her to teach him how to fight, apologizing and admitting his mistake. suki agrees to teach him and through this, they bond. it is revealed at the end of the episode that both sokka and suki may or may not have a thing for each other. afterwards, sokka has to leave and suki has to stay behind.

their next meeting is a lot more brief but even here, we see a clear demonstration of their dynamic. sokka is overjoyed to see suki but he still hasn't moved on from yue, so when suki confesses to him and tries to initiate a kiss, sokka rejects her. suki apologizes to him later for what happened, and sokka kisses her as a confirmation that he has now moved on and likes her back. we see a clear respect of boundaries and personal choices from both sides.

finally, after suki is captured by azula, sokka frees her and they are reunited again until the end. at this point, they're basically a couple. there's no more awkward blushing or stuttering; they're just a pair of teenagers who are in love with each other. they have a bit of playful banter and they're very casual and comfortable around each other.

suki was originally supposed to be a one-time character so it's incredible that they pulled off on the best ships in atla with her and sokka. their chemistry was undeniable from the beginning, and the writers knew how to expand on it.

now let's come to huntlow. hunter and willow meet each other for the first time in the s2b episode ‘Any Sport in a Storm’. willow is looking for candidates to join her flyer derby team and she sees hunter flying on his palisman. completely unprovoked, the willow who normally never attacked or forced something on people for no reason, decides that the best way to scout this random guy she doesn't know is by encasing him in vines and dragging him to the ground, destroying the concrete in the process. this may have been portrayed as something of a slapstick comedy, but that kind of humor never stuck with me.

after willow explains herself to hunter, he agrees to join her team, thinking it would be an easy way to recruit students into the emperor's coven. fast forward, they get a few members to their group.

hunter notices that all of these members are visibly slacking off and gets discouraged. he turns to leave and willow stops him in his tracks. when she tells him to give them a chance, hunter ‘opens up’ to her a little, by telling her that he had to earn chances, especially as a “half a witch”. this comes out of nowhere because we never see hunter being referred to as half a witch by anyone prior to this. there were certainly characters who disliked him, like lilith and kikimora, but they called him names like “golden brat”. in fact, it's not even clear if anyone other than hunter and belos knows that he has no magic. the whole half a witch line was added so that hunter and willow would have something in common.

willow, instead of reasoning with hunter or respecting his choice to leave, drags him to the ground once again and seemingly teleports him back to the flyer derby team. while this may not have been done with malicious intent, it was still another instance of willow invading hunter's boundaries and forcing him to do something.

hunter is convinced that the team is, in fact, competent. he plays the game with them and has fun doing it. after getting the team captured to join the emperor's coven and saving them from darius, the episode ends with darius turning out to be the good guy and hunter getting a penstagram (or whatever they call it, i forgot).

after this, the huntlow scenes are very scarce. we barely see them interact, especially not alone with each other. in the next episode, we see willow standing up for hunter and hunter blushing and recognizing that the fake willow isn't willow. while this would be sweet for an already established couple, since hunter and willow barely had a bond at this point, it just comes off as hunter being observant. which is somewhat in character for him.

afterwards, there's just a sprinkle of this ship, most of it consisting of hunter being shy and nervous around willow. and willow treating him like she treats everyone else. there's no sign of willow liking hunter back until literally the episode before the finale. where, instead of focusing on hunter's recent trauma with being possessed by his abusive parent and losing his best friend, the show decides to focus on willow's issues instead. of course willow deserves her own arc, but she already got it back in s1. there was no reason to give her ANOTHER issue to work on, just so that hunter can comfort her and give her a reason to like him back.

overall, it was really forced and these two characters never had the kind of natural chemistry that sokka and suki did. their interactions were either awkward or surface-level wholesome. we get exactly two (2) episodes where they interact properly and even that isn't done well. it just feels like these characters were pushed into a ship dynamic that they didn't naturally fit into.

#anti toh #toh criticism #toh critical #toh discourse #toh salt #anti huntlow #anti huntl0w #toh #atla #avatar the last airbender #the owl house spoilers #the owl house salt #the owl house criticism #the owl house critical #the owl house discourse #the owl house

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thewulf · 6 months

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I Got You || Jake "Hangman" Seresin

Summary: Request - I was wondering if I could request a Jake Seresin x reader where they're friends but they definitely have more between them, a supposed 'best friend' of the reader says something about the reader in a group setting about her past that she had told him in confidence... Read Rest Here

A/N: Jake Boy! Thank you for the request @stuffingbuttsandshit

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Y/N

Word Count: 2.0k +

TW: Parental abuse, beating, mentions of blood

Your heart raced making it hard to hear, only the rushing of blood in your ears as you processed what your longtime friend just said in front of the entire squadron. You’d told him that little bit about yourself in confidence, in private. It wasn’t meant for the ears of the entirety of base.

After a particularly shaky day up in the air your partner in the sky, Max, pulled you to the side trying to get to the bottom of why you were suddenly flying so distracted. A subtle way to say that you were flying like dog shit. Not that you could deny it, you were. But you couldn’t help it, not at all. You’d been called by your lawyer from long ago, from when you were just a child. He’d called to inform you that your abusive piece of shit of a father had been let out of prison on ‘good behavior’. You couldn’t stop the anxiety from creeping in. You’d testified against him. You’d helped put him behind bars. Damn, it was so long ago and now it was confronting you right in the face yet again.

He'd nearly beat your mother to death by the time the police arrived. You’d found her phone making sure to dial 9-1-1 before hiding under your bed. It wasn’t you this time. No, but your poor, sweet mother was on the end of his abuse this time. He’d only hit you a few times. But he’d only hit her a few times before you’d witnessed what you thought was your mother dying right in front of you. Any longer and she would’ve been. You were just thirteen when it all went down.

You were twenty-eight now. Fifteen years had passed. Your mom recovered. Took some time and found a new boyfriend. One that you loved. They got married when you were eighteen. She’d found her person. You were shown what love was. Finally, after all those years of nothing but abuse she’d been set free. You’d been set free.

You knew nothing would realistically happen, but you couldn’t held the nerves that spilled over into your work. What if he just showed up? Would he try and kill you? Talk it out?

Anxiety was eating away at you. Flying was the last damn thing on your mind. So, when Max did pull you aside you spilled your guts to him. He’d consoled you as you cried in his arms. He’d been your friend for so long. Since flight school even. You thought he was your biggest ally.

But when you heard those words, “Even Y/N isn’t perfect. She’s got a few scars from her daddy. Isn’t that right?” Max spoke so casually in front of the halfway drunk dagger squad.

It wasn’t malicious, you chose to believe that anyway. He’d even looked somewhat apologetic as hurt and discomfort flashed through your eyes. Nobody, not a damn soul knew about that. Nobody from your previous life knew about it. You’d told him in confidence, or so you thought. You’d never dreamed of them finding out, not the entirety of your coworkers. It wasn’t a direct confession though. You’d gotten a few quizzical looks from the pilots who couldn’t connect two and two. But a few of them got it. They looked away awkwardly, not daring to say a word.

You smiled slightly trying to hide your dumb expression, “Yeah, we’ve all got issues.” You nodded taking a large drink from your glass. When you looked up you saw his eyes on you. Jakes big green eyes were watching you awkwardly avoid the conversation so suddenly. He was one of the few that got Max’s insinuation. Because of course he did. Jake was smart. Cunning. He was surely going to use it against you at some point. He was more competitive than anybody you’d come across. He used any advantage he could. And knowing that would certainly be an advantage.

Trying to avoid his obvious gaze on you, you decided to finish your beer. It was the perfect excuse to get up to go get another. You jumped up from the high top you were sitting at making sure to grab your empty glass before vanishing off in the thick crowd.

When you got your refreshed beverage back from the bar you decided on walking outside and taking a moment before joining the group again. Little did you know you had a blonde pilot following you. Jake had always had a little bit of a soft spot towards you. He needed to make sure you were alright. Your demeanor signaled something was off.

Not a few seconds later Jake walked out seeing you sitting down on a bench watching the ocean. You were so focused in you hadn’t even heard Jake approaching. You’d only noticed him once he set his glass down next to yours.

“Jake!” You jumped slightly from your seat.

“Are you okay?” He asked catching you off guard.

“I’m okay.” You answered quickly avoiding his questioning gaze. Something was off, he wasn’t dumb. You were never so timid, not with him.

“No, you aren’t. What’s going on Y/N?” He asked in a gentler voice. Hoping you’d open up just a little to him.

“I just…” You took a moment to find the words, “Nobody was supposed to know that about my dad. I’m not my abusive piece of shit of a father. I can’t change my past. I just, I don’t know.” You let a tear fall. It was an impossible task to not cry. You’d done so damn good for so damn long and one little slip up ruined the illusion of you.

Jake squeezed your shoulder hoping it’d give you some comfort, “They had no idea what Max was even saying.”

“You did though.” You countered him quickly.

He nodded, “They’re not me.” A small smirk formed on his face. Classic Jake. Little did he know it helped though, even the smallest amount.

“Yeah, sure.” You sighed sounding oddly defeated. Not having that usual fire when bantering back and forth between him. You just didn’t have it in you. Not tonight. Not after that low blow from your friend.

“Hey,” He tugged at your arm gently so that you’d look at him, “I promise you they don’t have a clue. And you’re right. You aren’t your dad. You aren’t even your mom. You are you. And thank goodness you are.” He gave you a smile so genuine that you were pretty sure you were seeing him in an entirely new light.

“I thought you hated me Seresin.” You felt an odd sense of relief over his newfound softness towards you. It shouldn’t have made you feel as damn good as it did but here you were.

He sat down next to you quickly, “Could never. I’m really sorry I ever made you feel like that. I thought you liked it. The way we… talk.”

You felt him scoot a little bit closer. Your head turned to him looking at him, “It’s fine.” As quickly as you looked at him you turned away feeling painfully awkward with just him, so damn close. You’d never really thought of him as more than a colleague

He frowned seeing you turn in on yourself. He usually brought out the fiery side in you. This was different. A bad different, “Are you okay?” He asked wanting so desperately to take your hand in his, but he didn’t. He knew it’d be too much considering it looked like you were about to break.

Were you okay? No, not really. You were an anxiety ridden mess with the worst thoughts racing through your head. With your elbows on your knees, you placed your head in the palm of your hands contemplating what the hell you wanted to say to him.

Slowly you shook your head back and forth, “No.”

“Can I hug you?” He moved just a touch closer just waiting on your word.

You didn’t have to think much before you were nodding and mumbling, “Please.”

That was all he needed before he grabbed you, pulling you right into his lap, holding you as close as you needed, “It’s okay, you’ll be okay.” He spoke into your hair as you laid you head on his chest. This was certainly not how your day was going to go, cuddled up on Hangman’s lap about to cry your eyes out. But you were holding on. You really didn’t want to cry like this in front of him.

But the next sentence made the damn burst, “I really am glad you’re you. That you’re here. You push me, make me better.” He admitted before continuing, “Whatever it is, I’ll be there for you. Promise.”

How could you not cry? Here was this so-called asshole being the sweetest to you. Truly, nobody had ever been so loving towards you other than your mother.

He didn’t say a word as you broke in front of him, a nightmare only hours ago. But now? Now it felt comforting. He pulled your head flush to his chest as he let you cry. Fisting his sweater in your grasp you just let yourself cry. But even that had to stop.

When he heard your sniffled die down he spoke again, “It’s okay. I got you. I got you.” You’d be lying if the gentle whispers and his hand running through your hair didn’t make you feel something more, even just a little.

“I’m so sorry.” Mild embarrassment overcame you realizing how snuggled up to the man you hardly knew you were.

Giving you a gentle squeeze, he opted to just hold you, “No need to apologize darlin’. Are you going to be alright?” He had to ask again having to know what you needed. He felt paralyzed, unsure of how to help.

“My dad. He got out of prison last night. I’m just… so scared of him.” Letting out a shuttered breath you didn’t dare look up to him. You felt his eyes on you.

Jake felt like his heart broke then and there. Here you were terrified and clinging to him. Scared of what he assumed to be an abusive man who must’ve done something bad to get locked behind bars. You’d tell him the whole story eventually.

“I’ll stay with you tonight.” He answered so quickly you weren’t sure if he had even processed his own words.

You shook your head, “I can’t ask that of you Jake…”

He stopped you, “You didn’t ask. I’m offering sweetheart. Please, let me do this. It’ll help. I promise.”

You finally looked up at him, “Are you sure?”

“I’m positive.”

You nodded briefly, “Okay.”

“Alright. I’m driving.” He didn’t give you a second to protest before he stood quickly, bringing you up in his arms.

“I can walk Jake.” You tried squirming out of his grasp. He only gripped onto you more tightly, a smug smile coating his face.

“I’m aware Y/N.” He still didn’t put you back on the ground, only quickened his pace to his truck.

He opened the door to his truck, setting you down and shutting the door behind him. Jumping into the driver’s seat he turned on the truck looking over at you. He watched as you buckled in and looked out the window without so much of a thought crossing your eyes.

“What’s going on it that head of yours?” He asked quietly hoping not to startle you out of your thoughts too drastically.

“As fucked up as it is, I just wish he would’ve died in there.” You admitted not really caring about how he felt about you right about now.

Jake shrugged, “Sounds like the feeling is warranted.” He said nonchalantly as he started the drive back to your place. You’d plugged in your address into his phone, so you didn’t have to think about it.

“You don’t even know the story.” Why were you even beginning to defend your father? He was a cruel, evil man.

“But I do know you a bit. I know your rational. Smart. Kind. You don’t get there without reason.” He said casually continuing the short drive home.

You sighed wishing your stupid brain could just drop it.

He gave your thigh a light squeeze, “I got you. From here on out, okay? I got you.”

You gave him a soft smile choosing to believe that “Thank you Jake.”

He nodded, “Anytime darlin’. Anytime.”

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murderhusbands4life · 7 months

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Hannibal Lecter X Autistic Child Reader

first request!

request: Can u do like austitic child reader with Hannibal

summary: Hannibal latest patient is a child filled with trauma over their elder brothers death and Hannibal cares for them like his own.

Third person pov...

Mrs L/N and her 7 year old arrive outside Dr Hannibal Lecter's office, Y/Ns new physiatrist. A little over a month ago Y/Ns elder brother died, the 7 year old witnessed it since then the child had been filled with terror and hadn't slept well since.

Said child was grumpily standing next to their Mum staring down at their shoes swaying back and forth. "Do I have too" they pout, this makes Y/Ns mum sigh, she kneels and holds her Childs shoulder making the kid flinch not liking touch.

"Sorry honey, but you know what the school says you have to stick with the same therapist for at least a week before going back to school" explains the kids Mum, the child sighs. "Okayy, lets do it" they say making the women smile at them.

The building itself was beautiful with a sense of historical back ground, it was tall and didn't look like a physiatrists office, nervously Y/N follows their mother inside the building, Mrs L/N had heard from her close friend Jack Crawford about an amazing physiatrist and decided to make an appointment for her child.

Soon they came to a door which was Dr Lecter's office, Mrs L/N knocks on the door, looking down at her nervous child of course the child was nervous, Y/N doesn't like change and this is a huge change for them, then the door opens and man stands there.

He was tall around 6tf, he had ash grey hair, brown eyes, he had sharp cheekbones and an obviously fake smile on his face, to Y/N he looked about 40 maybe mid 40s. he was wearing a dark red pinstripe suit and dark brown shoes.

He looks at the mother and child in front of him wondering who they were. "hello, you must be Dr Lecter, Im Y/M/N L/N and this is Y/N we have an appointment" says the H/C woman, Hannibal eyes widened a fraction before returning to normal. "ah yes my apologies, I had forgotten please come in" he says and stands to the right holding the door open.

He had a slight accent, possibly eastern European, Y/N wracks their brain trying to place it but couldn't think, they shall have to ask the man later.

But Y/Ns mum shakes her head at the invitation. "I'm already late for work, I'll leave Y/N with you" she says before turning her back and kneeling next to her child, Hannibal watches as the child's eyes wonder not looking at their mother.

"Y/N love, I'll be back to pick you up later okay, my shift at the clinic will finish at 5 okay see you then, be good and respectful to Dr Lecter now" she says to the child kissing their forehead and walking away throwing a wave goodbye behind her.

The hallway was filled with silence as the Dr and Child stand. "Please come in Y/N" he says to the silent child. Y/N nervously enters the pristine office, the child gasps at how large the room was, bright E/C eyes marvel at its beauty.

Dr Lecter lips turn up at the emotionless child gasping at his office, he then walks over to the child and begins taking their coat, this makes the child look at him before smiling in thanks. "Thank you, sir," Hannibal hears a mumble.

"of course, now if you would please take a seat we will begin" he says motioning to one of the chairs he uses for his patents, though it had been a while since he had such a young one in his office.

"now then we shall begin, I am Hannibal Lecter and I will be your physiatrist" he says smiling at the small child sitting in the overly large chair, said child was still looking around the room drinking in all the details and books.

"Im Y/N L/N, sir im 7 years old" comes a tiny voice, Hannibal smiles slightly, they were getting somewhere at least he got their name. "hello Y/N do you know why you are here?" he asks the child, Y/N stopped looking around and instead looked at their shoes.

"because I don't sleep and Mummy's worried about me" comes the quiet voice, Hannibal was barely able to hear. He crosses his legs and continues to write in his notebook, brown eyes look over the child sitting opposite him, their movements skittish like a scared bunny.

"And why is that Y/N?" he asks gently coaxing the child to speak more, minutes pass before the child speaks. "Because brother died and I still dream off him though not nice dreams, I miss him" whispers the child tears gathering in the corner of their big E/C eyes.

Already seeing this happening Hannibal hands, the 7 tear old some tissues he keeps on his desk, tiny hand grab the white tissue and wipes their tears and blows their nose. "t-thank y-you s-sir" comes a tearful voice.

Hannibal smiles gently at the child reassuring them. "of course, child" he says as their session moves on.

Over Y/Ns next few appointments with Hannibal they began to get more comfortable with him and always enjoyed coming to his office, once he noticed how their eyes wondered toward his many books on the second level, the expression of surprise will forever make him happy as he told the child they could read his collection.

Said child bounds over to the many books and carefully grabs a couple, he had learnt that Y/N was autistic and had a love for books they loved reading anything, the two become ever closer their sessions became something less formal.

Hannibal had never felt this close to a child before, but he enjoyed their sessions together and was delighted to be able to help such a sweet innocent child go through their trauma.

The end!

Hope you liked this first oneshot for this new book. Sorry for the spelling and grammar mistakes in this.

Requests are open!

Word count: 1065

#hannibal #hannibal lecter #hannibal nbc #hannibal lecter x child reader #x autistic reader #x child reader #death of brother #oneshot #fluff #hannibal x child reader

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onskepa · 10 months

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I have put too many requests at this point- I'm sorry I have so many ideas- T^T

But...

Can I get a Kiri x older sister(human) reader. Where there reader was Grace's first child who is 5-7 years older than kiri.

I'm not exactly sure what to put in this request this time... hmm...

Maybe it can be the reader and Kiri bonding and Kiri asking more about Grace?

Bet the reader is super overprotective of Kiri.

I can imagine when the reader uses her avatar she and kiri practically look like twins 🥺

Aonung: Are you some sort of...freak?

Y/n: *pulls out a gun* The Fuck did you just say to my baby sister, b!tch?!

Kiri: Oop- You gonna die-

Hello!! sorry for the long wait on this one! Hope you enjoy. And dont be afraid to keep asking for request! I enjoy doing them!

Tsmuke

Dr. Grace Augustine, fierce, quick, curious and a taste for discovering new things. She isn't someone to be talked down, she stands her ground and will protect those she cares fiercely. She is all that and more. But what no one believed she would become, is a mother.

Who is the father? No one knows, and some have asked Grace who is the father. Dr. Augustine would just shrug and not say. She never seemed too happy to be asked so the main question soon died. Many prefer to be on her good side.

Grace though, while she doesn't want to talk about who impregnated her, she is always seen with her sweet child. A daughter.

A cute girl who inherited her bright red hair. Almost an exact copy of her mother. The science guys would see her everywhere in the lab. Not a day passes by where they don't see the baby girl. You would think grace would talk or call out to her daughter by saying her name. But no. Talking in na'vi so much, many hear grace calling to her kid by saying "ma'ite". Like a lot. Of course the child has a name, but it seems like a rather private secret between the daughter and grace.

Norm created a special mask for little miss Augustine so that she can explore pandora with her mother. Yeah. Grace takes her daughter outside of the safety of hell's gate.

One day, Grace was excited to take her daughter to the school where she teaches young na'vi children how to speak English. There she brought her baby girl, introducing her to the young children. Many were surprised, few afraid to get close, while others were right at the baby's face.

Two particular children were very interested in the child. Sylwanin and her little sister, Neytiri. Both loved the little baby, would gently hold her in their arms. Tickling the baby, making her burst in laughter.

Grace was relived that the children accepted her daughter. She was honestly afraid what their would reaction be. But grateful that their response was positive. Now every time they ask grace to bring her daughter every day to school.

When Slywanin and neytiri spoke to their parents of grace's child, mo'at especially, was curious. They were good friends, why hide such a thing from her?

Next thing anybody knew, mo'at was there at the school, holding grace's child. Was a sight to see. Mo'at giving Eywa's blessing to the human child. Was never done before and grace felt honored.

However, all good things must come to an end.

7 years later, 7 long beautiful years, was over. The sweet child witnessed her mother's death right before her eyes. Quaritch killed her mother without hesitation in his evil body. Hate grew in her little heart. Hate for the man who took her mother away from her.

Norm and jake brought grace and her avatar to the tree of souls. In hopes that Eywa can grant grace a second chance with her avatar body. Little 'ite was there, right beside her mother. Holding her hand and also praying to Eywa.

"dont cry ma'ite....its going to be fine" grace said weakly as she tries to reassure her child. Little 'ite hoped, but deep down, she knew her mother wasnt going to make it.

As mo'at and the others begin to chant, secretly, little 'ite does as well. True she is human and cannot connect to Eywa like the na'vi do, but she hopes her prayers do reach the great mother. Everything looked as though it was going to work. Looking back at the avatar, hoping to see those golden eyes open. Wanting it to work. Until mo'at stopped the prayers.

"ite'...?" she whispers quietly, quickly little ite was there, holding her hand tightly. "Im here mama, I'm here" she replies with fear in her voice. Grace smiles weakly, gripping as tight as she could, holding her child's hand. "I'm with her ite, she is real..." with the last gasp, the light in her eyes fades away.

Little 'ite was heartbroken. She cried loudly, letting her voice reach all na'vi's ears. The na'vi didn't like the humans after what they did, but understand that no child should ever live a life without their mother.

Jake gently pulled little 'ite away from grace as neytiri slowly pulls the mask away from grace's sleeping face. Letting a few slip from her eyes. Grace was a dear friend of mo'at and a beloved teacher to neytiri and her fellow na'vi.

The war was one. Na'vi vs humans. It was a victory, but one with so many loses on each side. Trudy, someone little ite saw as an aunt died. Tsu'tey, someone she viewed as a big brother lost his life. Eytukan lost his life. Those both human and na'vi that little ite had relationships with, all died.

After the war, did the forest begin to heal. Little ite stayed as pandora was her home. Not Earth. She stayed under the care of jake and neytiri whom they took in as their daughter. She never called them mom or dad. But still loves them none the less. Which is enough for the couple.

Norm and the other science guys managed to make a new type of breathing mask. Tubes that stick in the nostrils connected to a small filter box full of the water that can thin out and generate oxygen through the tubes and into the nose. Little ite was using the prototype as it was successful. No more oxygen refills every couple of hours. Just fill the filter box with water and done. Can stay outside longer. Something little ite has come to enjoy.

The clan accepted her as one of their own. However, at the age of 8, three surprises came to little ite. The first was little miles Socorro. Or spider as many nickname him. She found out he was the son of the man who killed her mother. But she held no anger towards spider. He was innocent of the crimes his father did. If anything, she has come to love him like a little brother.

And speaking of little brother, neteyam was born. And she loved him with all her little heart. Became super protective of both neteyam and spider. But the third surprise, that one was her favorite. Her mother's avatar whom she goes to visit every day, was pregnant. It brought tears of joy to little ite. Something of her mother would be with her forever.

So she began to prepare many things with the help of neytiri and jake. Making new beads, little clothes, making toys, everything. Every day she would go to the lab and visit her mother. Often times she would sleep beside the tube, imagining all the possibilities.

And when the day came, she became a big sister to little kiri. Little ite was the first to hold her baby sister. Sure kiri was big, but in her arms, she was the smallest thing to ever see. Now she had 3 siblings to take care of. A challenge she looked forward.

During the communion, as she sees neteyam and kiri connect to the tree. She knew at the moment what she wanted. An avatar. Took some convincing, but the science guys managed to make a avatar using the last bit of na'vi and using grace's avatar dna to fill in the gaps. Now she had to wait 5 to 7 years until her avatar is complete.

She doesnt mind. During the mean time she has a lot to do. Her role as the big sister suited her well. Helping neytiri with neteyam or kiri. Would hold them if they cry, would play with them, feed them, bathe them, almost everything.

Jake never knew how, but he saw how neytiri changed. From hating spider to taking him in as her own. Now they have 4 children to raise. And another on the way.

Lo'ak came with a voice that demanded to be heard. While neteyam and kiri were silent as babies, lo'ak was screeching like a banshee. And guess who is the only one to make him shut up? Thats right, little ite. Who now is more often called "Tsumke". The siblings would follow their sister everywhere. Would ditch everything and go with their big sister. They do everything she does. Such as carving, weaving, fishing, etc.

However, Tstumke has a far closer relationship to kiri than her brothers. Not that she is playing favorites no, not at all. It is just that she and kiri are all they have left of each other. Tstumke would tell so many stories of their mother to kiri. One day she even handed down the necklace that their mother wore to kiri. And every since then, kiri wore it with pride and cherishing it.

Together they would visit grace's avater. Telling her of their day to day stories and watch her vlogs together. Kiri would take anything of their mother so she can be as close to her as she could.

Tstumke has even become very protective of kiri. Should anyone question of kiri's oddities or how weird she is. Tstumke is there to shut them down. Na'vi or human she doesnt care. Kiri is her special person. Loves kiri so much that she isnt afraid to fight others.

Soon came tuktuk. Their baby sister and the last sully baby to be born. No more after her. Already dealing with 6 kids is a handfull for jake and neytiri. Though Tstumke and spider are independent, there is still 4 others to raise.

For years everything was great. Peaceful. Until the RDA came back and with full force that before. Soon after, things went chaotic. Raids, attacks, things weren't peaceful anymore. And to make matters worse, the RDA sent avatars called "recom team" out to find jake sully. Instead they found the sully children. Almost all of them. Minus neteyam and tstumke.

At night, when the four found the recom team and ready to attack. Tstumke was blinded by rage. She saw the eyes of the man who took her mother away. Who has kiri as hostage. Tstumke wasn't a skilled fighter nor a great warrior but she did what she could to get kiri out of there. Taking the risk of exposing herself, she lunched with a war cry and gave Quaritch a massive hit in the head.

To him it came out of nowhere, but soon jake and neytiri were quick to attack, giving tstumke time to make through and get her siblings out of there.

It all happened so quick. Almost everyone made it home safe. Except for spider. He was injured in a fall making the tubes in his nose break. The recome team took advantage and took him away.

Tstumke was terribly sad that her brother was taken. But there was much to lose in the fight.

Going back to their home, tstumke and her siblings heard their parents fight. Discussing what to do. And to her horror she heard jake saying they had to leave. Away from the Omaticaya clan. Away from the forest meant being away from her mother.

It was a hard desicion. But it had to be done. All the children didnt want to go, but neytiri said the word is final. Packing the basics they left. Tstumke was with kiri in her banshee. Looking back at their home.

Tstumke couldn't take her avatar. It wasn't ready. Much to her dismay. The avatar took longer that the anticipated time.

The travel was long and tiresome, but they reached the reef na'vi. The Metkayina clan. Jake spoke of seeing uturu. The Tsahik was harsh, quick tongue and spoke that the children are weak. Carrying demon blood. Until her eyes landed on Tstumke. Hissing and yelling that the sully family dare to bring a demon on their island.

"I may be of demon blood, but I am as much na'vi than human. I was raised and lived among the Omaticaya clan. They saw me as one of their despite the clear difference" Tstumke stated. Challenging the Tsahik. Ronal saw the honesty in her eyes but wasn't going to give up just yet.

Neytiri was quick to defend tstumke and all of her children. "my daughter is one of us. Accept her or we leave. I refuse to stay a place where my daughter isnt with me".

Ronal, the tsahik, and Tonowari had a silent conversation with just their eyes. Finally they accepted the uturu. The children of tonowari and ronal were assigned to help the sully family.

Tsireya, a sweet girl was more than happy to help. Ao'nung on the other hand. Did so reluctantly. He didn't like outsiders settling in his village. Much less a sky demon.

Things were fine. The children including Tstumke were learning well from Tisreya and Ao'nung. Rotxo was a pleasant third person. Though he was giving hints of him liking kiri. Every time that happens, tstumke gives him a hard side eye. Yeah he was a good kid, but in the eyes of a big sister, he aint good enough for her precious kiri. Not that kiri has taken any notice of his hints.

If anything, kiri was to absorbed in their new home. Taking in the ocean and the underwater creatures. Didn't take much learning for her to adapt. Kiri is either seen alone or with Tstumke. Both bonding and exploring their new home together.

Of course not everything is as easy. One day the sully children were doing their own thing at a distance from each other. Lo'ak and tstumke were collecting some plants, neteyam was making a net, and kiri was simply admiring the sand. Lo'ak was the first to notice ao'nung and his friends messing with kiri. Tstumke looked and heard something she hated to hear. "Are you some kind of...freak?" ao'nung asked kiri. She scoffs it off and tries to get out of their way. But they decided to cage her in. Lo'ak was about to go off, but tstumke beat him to it.

"HEY! WATCH WHAT YOU ARE SAYING!" barks tstumke. Now she is patient, calm, and understanding. But should anything or anyone mess with her baby sister. Well, all hell breaks lose.

"oh look the little demon comes to save the day" ao'nung teases. He smirks as his goons laughs. Tstumke took it as a challenge, "little? I WILL SHOW YOU LITTLE!". Using all her might, she launches at ao'nung, pulling his hair, hitting him in the face. She isn't the strongest but damn can she pack a punch.

"NEVER MESS WITH MY SISTER YOU HERE ME!?" she screeches out. Ao'nung tries to get her off but her grip was too tight. Took lo'ak and kiri to get her off of him but not before kicking him one last time.

"control your little demon! she fights like a animal!" one of ao'nung's friends says. Neteyam quickly comes into the scene trying to take control. "I need you to leave them alone. So back off" he states, one of the goons hissed at him. Ao'nung raised his hand as to silence his friend. He smirked once more and raised his hands as to surrender.

"from now I need you to respect my sisters" with that, neteyam tries to guide his siblings away. But nope. Lo'ak once more had to pull a stupid stunt and punch ao'nung. Kiri stayed out but not tstumke. She isn't gonna let her little brother handle a fight alone. So she stepped in and shortly neteyam. Kiri just stood there laughing at the scene. She was never one for violence but this is an exception.

To say, the three did get in trouble. But once the reason was explained. Jake quietly praised his kids. Especially tstumke. Despite her size, he is proud she can handle anyone no matter the size. Kiri was just appreciative to have a sister like her.

I think I went over board on this one XD but I hope you all liked it!

ma'ite = daughter

tstumke = sister

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crazyinluvfix · 12 days

Text

PROLOGUE

FATAL ATTRACTION - a stiles stilinski story

summary: Sera Salvatore moved to Beacon Hills for a break from the supernatural. But her life was once again turned upside down when she and her two best friends get thrown head first into a world of werewolves and mystery. But it’s hard for her to protect her friends when a single werewolf bite is what could kill her for good…

WARNINGS: mentions of blood

a/n: this is just the intro ! future parts will be longer, that’s where the story really begins ;)

series masterlist

1.8k words

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Beacon Hills was supposed to be a sanctuary from all things supernatural.

After what felt like over a century (because it was), Sera Salvatore needed a break.

Which was admittedly a little hypocritical considering she herself was a vampire, but she was desperate for an escape from all the drama and chaos that her family - namely her brothers - had brought to Mystic Falls. So she decided to start afresh, again.

After only one year of living back in her hometown, she picked up and went to the furthest most point in the continental United States, which just so happened to land her here. From Georgia, all the way to sunny California. It would be a nice change.

She was fortunate enough that she could pass as quite young whenever she settled in a new place. With the help of makeup, clothing, and a healthy amount of dishonesty she managed to blend into freshman year at Beacon Hills High without anyone even batting an eye.

It was now one year ago today that she had started her first day, which turned out to be a breeze.

January 3rd, 2010

“You’re humiliating,” I expressed my annoyance flatly as I stood by the door, waiting for my brother to let go of my jacket that he had been straightening before I left the house.

He patted my shoulder with a motherly smile as if he was sending his child off to kindergarten, then took a step back to play the role further.

“Have you got everything?” he asked as he nodded to my bag.

I let out a breathy chuckle. I didn’t hate him as much as I let on… mostly.

“I packed you a blood bag for lunch,” he continued, that smirk of his right at home on his smug face - never a dull moment.

My hand reached for my keys on the side table as I walked backward towards the door, shaking my head to stop my lips from forming a smile of their own. “How thoughtful,” I retorted sarcastically.

But just as I was about to step outside I stopped to say one last thing, “Thanks for helping me move in and all,” my tone was much more genuine than it typically was when speaking to him, but I really was grateful.

Moving across the country would’ve been infinitely harder without his company on the road, and without being able to play the little sister card and sit back while he does the heavy lifting. But… and I would never admit it… but even now, starting a new school was just as scary as it always has been and a part of me liked that I had my big brother there to see me off.

I quickly cut our sappy little chat short with another comment, “But, I expect you to be gone when I get home.” I arched an eyebrow and pointed a finger at him.

He was definitely the fun brother, but with fun comes impulsivity - a trait that must be genetic, and must have skipped my twin - and with impulsivity comes a long string of ‘animal attacks’. And that was exactly the drama in question that I wanted to escape, so I had brought along a surplus of blood bags to hold me until I found a more permanent solution.

He held his hands up in surrender, “I’ll be out within the hour.”

“Okay. I’ll see ya,” I said finally as I stepped outside, hiding from the brisk winter cold in the confines of my leather jacket.

My words were met with another smile and a nod from my brother before he spoke again. “Tell me how it went when you’re home.” The protective mother was back. But this time, it wasn’t just a joke, he was lucky we had no witnesses since he’d hate to ruin his tough-guy persona.

I almost laughed at him again, but I didn’t. As humans me and my brothers were incredibly close, but over time that faded. Me and our other brother never really settled that, but over the past year back in Mystic Falls me and the eldest fell back into old patterns.

“I will,” I gave in with a joking eye-roll. “Bye Damon,” I waved his way.

“Bye Seffie,” he returned, getting a kick out of my suddenly sour face.

Seffie. A nickname he saddled me with at the age of 4 and has stuck with me ever since. But my real name was a mouthful, so I chose to go by Sera - a fact Damon will insist on disregarding for the rest of our eternal lives.

As I walked away my once friendly hand gesture turned into a middle finger as I heard him laugh behind me and shut the door as I made my way to my new school.

The moment I stepped foot in the doors I noticed some heads turn, some overheard whispers from passers-by that fuelled my ego just that bit more as I walked up to reception and signed in.

First-period English went smoothly, then it was History which ironically was focused on the confederacy (not me and my siblings' proudest fight). And it was safe to say the teacher was thoroughly impressed with my knowledge on the subject, little did he know I quite literally lived it.

But after class was when my day took a turn.

“1076, 1076,” I repeated under my breath as I went to scour the halls for my new locker, but the break rush made my search all the more difficult with what felt like a million people charging around.

But finally, I seemed to be in luck as I read the numbers to my right; 1080, 1079, 1078, 1077, and…

Crash.

I took a deep breath and a frustrated sigh at the smug-faced, blond jock who had just practically booked it into my side, knocking all of my books out of my hands, and causing me to jump at the deafening sound of them hitting the tile floor. ‘Great,’ I thought satirically. The prick didn’t even bother to look back! Let alone be kind enough to help me pick them back up again.

But someone else did. In fact, two other boys seemed to have played witness and immediately came scrambling up to my side.

“Hey, uh-” the one with darker features and a crooked jawline, giving him a somewhat goofy smile stuttered, stopping after his friend who stood politely next to him not-so-subtly jabbed him in the side with his elbow, causing him to bring a hand to it and shoot his friend a glare.

“What he meant to say was, do you want a hand with that?” The slightly taller friend with the buzzed brown hair asked after his friend's failure to do so.

I could do nothing but laugh slightly at both of their clear excitement and reply with a smile, “I’d love one.”

Picking up books was a simple task that I most definitely could’ve done myself in probably half the time, but nothing compared to watching them both drop to the floor and bat at each other's hands in a frantic competition to ‘help the most.’ My smile grew wider and I brought a hand up to rest on my forehead. This was already a refreshing change since none of the boys back home would have ever done the same.

Soon, they both stood back up in front of me, proud looks on both of their faces as they put the books in my open locker for me.

“Thank you,” I chuckled in response.

“No problem,” the more hyper one added before quickly speaking again at a constant, lightning pace. “I’m Stiles, by the way,” he gestured to himself, “and this is my buddy, Scott,” his hand moved over to pat the other boy on the shoulder.

“Nice to meet you, Stiles and Scott,” I nodded back at them, still trying to bite back an amused grin, “I’m Sera.”

“You’re new here right?” Scott spoke again with an innocent look of pure curiosity.

I put my hands together behind my back and rocked on my heels slightly, “Mhm, started this morning,” a somewhat nervous chuckle left my lips, which the one called Stiles seemed to pick up on because he quickly interjected.

“I mean, we’d be happy to show you ‘round if you wanna hang with us,” he offered, a hopeful shrug on his shoulders and a pout on his lips.

“Wouldn’t we, Scott,” he then batted the back of his hand against his friend’s arm, glaring at him to respond.

Scott quickly blinked and nodded rapidly, “Oh, yeah, of course.”

I bit my lip in contemplation, they did seem awfully nice. “I’d love to, but I’ve gotta go to the office quickly, but maybe I’ll catch up with you guys later,” my counter seemed to be accepted without a second thought as I studied their expressions.

When I stepped backward I noticed how they didn’t leave just yet, so I said, “Bye boys, I’ll see you around,” with a small wiggle of my fingers as a wave.

“See you around, Sera,” Stiles repeated as he and Scott both mimicked my step back, his hand raising up to do a little salute before we turned our backs to each other.

I could not help the quiet giggle that escaped my mouth after I was out of their eyeline, but I also could not help but hear what they were saying to each other down the hall.

“Why the fuck did you salute?” Scott whispered, hitting Stiles back in retaliation for earlier.

“I- I don’t know, okay?” Stiles replied slightly panicked.

My smile grew. What idiots.

As for the conversation with the receptionist, it went smoothly with a little help from my immaculate ‘people skills’.

“I’m sorry but we insist on transcripts. And your immunisation records seem to be missing,” the lady said, peering over her glasses as she looked through my files.

My sigh was followed by me leaning forward, looking into her eyes as I watched her pupils dilate - she just had to make this more difficult.

“Please look again, I’m sure you’ll find everything you’re looking for.” A proud smirk laced my lips as she did exactly that, nodding and sending me on my way. Too easy.

During lunch, I did end up joining the boys at their table, taking a seat next to Stiles and definitely not missing the wide-eyed look he gave to Scott, along with his stuttered breath as I leaned over him to reach my pen that had rolled across the table.

The portrayal of vampires in Twilight had always annoyed me due to its incredible inaccuracy, but it was beyond amusing how easy it was for me to read their minds, even without special powers.

That day had ended with new numbers in everyone’s phones and Sera scoring a new ride to school and back every day in her new friend’s beaten-up old Jeep (which she thought had enough charm to distract from the deafening sound it made when running).

And from that moment forward, the three were inseparable.

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hope you enjoyed !

this was basically to just tell you what to expect from the rest of the series. might not post it all on here unless you want me to so check out my ao3 and wattpad ( @crazyinluvfix ) like and comment x

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crystalis · 23 days

Text

thread by Arnesa Buljušmić-Kustura

Apr 5, 2024

Today marks the anniversary of the Siege of Sarajevo. The “official” start of the Bosnian Genocide.

Almost 4 years of being cut off from the world, from food and water and electricity. 4 years of daily shelling, bombing, and terrorising campaigns of the city and its residents.

Today is a particularly painful day and in the next 6 months, we will have an anniversary after anniversary after anniversary of the various massacres and horrors that were inflicted on us throughout the Bosnian Genocide.

I was just a child when the Siege of Sarajevo started. The peaceful neighbourhood I once played in was suddenly surrounded and shelled daily. Sniper attacks became common place. Every day you heard news of someone being killed. Someone you knew. Someone you loved.

One of my most vivid memories of the Siege of Sarajevo is my great-grandmother. She was a fiery spirit and I was her favourite human. Her heart gave out when she found out her son had died. I always think she would’ve lived another 10 years had there been no genocide.

The residents of Sarajevo were shot at when they’d be collecting water. When they were in line to get bread and aid. When they’d attempt to get to a hospital. In hospitals. In schools. In libraries. There was nowhere that was fully safe.

On a daily basis, the Serb forces would average of approximately 329 shell impacts per day during the course of the siege, with a maximum of 3,777 on 22 July 1993. The city’s streets, homes, buildings, hospitals, govt and historical buildings were all targeted and destroyed.

Over 13,000 people were killed in the Siege, and over 1600 of them were children. Of the estimated 65,000 to 80,000 children in the city, at least 40% had been directly shot at by snipers; 51% had seen someone killed; 39% had seen one or more family members killed…

19% of the children in Sarajevo had witnessed a massacre; 48% had their home occupied by someone else; 73% had their home attacked or shelled; and 89% had lived in underground shelters.

Today, as I reflect on the Siege of Sarajevo…I cannot help but think of the parallels and similarities with the atrocities occurring during the Siege on Gaza. Over 13,000 children had been killed during these past 7 months.

The Siege of Sarajevo resulted in the deaths of two uncles, my godmother who was a Serb and was killed by Serb forces, my grandmother who was killed when she was making breakfast and her home was attacked by Serb forces. My neighbours, my friends, and countless others.

There is not a day in my life in which I do not recall the horrors we endured. There is not a day in my life in which I do not curse those who destroyed my childhood and my innocence. When I was 5 years old, a Serbian sniper shot at me….a child. I survived thanks to my neighbour.

It has been over 30 years since the Siege of Sarajevo started. A 4 year long campaign of terror, genocide, and destruction. The world knew. The world saw. The world stayed quiet. They refused to allow us to defend ourselves. They said that “Bosnia did not belong” in Europe.

Our pain and suffering became an easily exploitable topic for the politicians, journalists, academics to build their careers off of. To this day, many only have a career because of the Bosnian Genocide. Yet, when it was the worst for us…they watched and allowed it to happen.

The Bosnian Genocide did not need to happen. As all genocides, it could have been prevented. & now they tell us to “remember the past” and they say to “never forget” while they allow the same to happen to Palestinians.

I cannot look at the photos coming out of Gaza and not see Sarajevo in it. Their pain is all too similar to our pain. Yet the International Community, once again, seems intent to ensure that the past repeats itself.

& I cannot help but feel that just as much as they believed that “Bosnia did not belong” and therefore allowed the genocide and horrors to continue for 4 long years….they feel the same about Palestine. To them: we “do not belong”. Our deaths are just a bloody stain on their tvs.

So today I spend my day praying for those we lost in the Siege of Sarajevo and throughout the Bosnian Genocide, I will pray that the world wakes up and sees that they are allowing the past to repeat in Palestine.

May we never forget the beautiful souls whose lives were taken and destroyed, in the name of ethnonationalism and fascism. In Sarajevo, throughout Bosnia. In Gaza. Throughout Palestine.

#free palestine

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wonder-kid-pugh · 11 months

Text

Listen to the Sound of my Voice - Alessia Russo x reader

*Trigger Warning - Read at your own discretion*

You couldn't do this anymore.

The entire day you have been feeling this way. And while it wasn't a new feeling to you, today it just felt exceptionally worse. You couldn't even describe it really.

It was just like this feeling of dread just completely enveloped you. A feeling of complete uselessness that you hated but couldn't shake. All while a massive weight was pressed on your chest. So much so that you feel your heartbeat is going to jump from your chest.

It was the feeling of being a complete burden to those around you. A feeling of being a complete waste. Feeling like you were nobody.

But that wasn't even the worst part.

The worst part was you knew you shouldn't feel like this. That you had a perfectly good life. You had a good family. Two loving parents and 4 annoying brothers you would do anything for. You had great friends. You were known in your community. You were seen as a good happy kid.

You volunteered and helped out at your old primary school that your mother taught at whenever they needed help. You coached your old football team and loved to coach the younger kids.

You were involved in sports teams. You became known as a solid wall inside of the goals. You were going to college.

You had the perfect life compared to most people.

So why did you feel so miserable?

Realistically, you know that you've probably been feeling this way for years. But you had just never dealt with it. You constantly pushed it down until it eventually got worse and worse.

This eventually evolved into panic attacks in your final year of school. Which was disguised underneath the guise of stress of exams.

So once exams were finished and you had slipped back on your happy mask for everyone it was soon forgotten about again. You continued on with life clinging onto that happy facade you had built up over the years.

And most of the time you dealt with it. Well in your own way. It mostly involved you taking time by yourself usually in your room. Most likely sleeping as well. In these kinda moods you often felt drained. Which often lead to you trying to sleep off this feeling.

Probably not the most healthy method but it's how you managed.

You managed on your own and quietly. Cause what else were you supposed to do? You were the middle child. Your parents were busy and you didn't want to bother them with your problems. Your brothers had their own stuff to worry about.

While you had friends, you never felt like you had a "best friend". You always felt like the left out friend to be honest.

But there seemed to be one person who noticed.

Alessia Russo.

The two of you had originally met through youth soccer. You being a goalie and her a striker meant you ran into each other a lot.

She was an absolute menace to you as a striker.

And Alessia couldn't help but be distracted by the pretty girl in goals.

But it wasn't until years later that you actually became friends. Alessia had made an appearance at your club you coached at to help inspire the kids.

Honestly you were shocked that she remembered you. But that day you worked well together. Despite not following your passion, you still knew you stuff and that's what made you a great coach.

It also sparked a small rivalry between the two of you from your childhood but it was all in good nature.

But when the session had finished and everything was tidied you she had asked if you had wanted to get a coffee. The second she smiled at you, you knew you couldn't say no.

And it went from there. For the first time in a long time you had felt seen. She asked you about everything. And you started off with the basic answers. Filling her in on your seemingly perfect life before turning the conversation back onto her accomplishments.

You had talked so long that you didn't noticed that the cafe was getting ready to close.

So sheepishly you both left, but not before Alessia got you number with the promise to meet up again soon. You smiled and gave it to her thinking she was just being polite. She was a big celebrity now. A household name. Why would she want to spend time out of her busy schedule with you?

So you were surprised when she did infact message you a few days later.

But when you joked about how you didn't expect her to actually text you, all you got was her dead serious answer of "she always keeps her promises".

And it just grew from there. You had both become an integral part of each other's lives. You went to watch her play occasionally. And she became your sounding board when college and work became too much.

Her teammates also found it hilariously funny that you were training to be a nurse as well knowing how clumsy their friend was.

But overtime she seemed to be the only one who could read you. The only one who noticed the cracks slowly developing in your masks. Or when you got into these certain moods.

She was also the only one who was able to fully pull you back from it.

Which is why you shouldn't of been surprised when she came knocking on your door.

You had planned to ignore her consistent knocking. Hoping that she would think you weren't home and would leave. But you winced when your phone rang beside you. You cursed silently when you saw Alessia's name flash on your screen.

"Come on Y/n!" She once again banged on the door. "I know you're there". "Please just open the door" she pleaded quietly through the door.

You creeped around to the door eyeing it as if wondering would she eventually just give up and leave if you stayed quiet.

But almost as if she heard your thoughts she just shouted through the door, "I'm not leaving until you open this door". After that you decided that you might as well open the door.

You plastered on a smile as you open the door. You clocked her worried eyes as you opened the door and forced on an even bigger smile. "Hey" you smiled as you leaned against the door, "what are you doing here?"

Alessia eyes scan you choicing to ignore the fact that you were consciously ignoring her just minutes ago. "We were meant to meet up today..."

Your eyes widened as you gently bang your head off the door. "Shit Less I'm so sorry!" You drag your hand down your face.

But she moves forward carefully and takes your hands in hers as she leans down to get a look at you. "Hey it's okay". She takes in your frantic appearance and how your breathing is a little too fast. She had always been good at that. Picking up on the small things.

"Are you okay?" She asked as she gently squeezed your hands.

You pursued your lips together as you forced albeit a bit stiffly. "Yeah I'm good" you nod lightly.

But Alessia could tell. Your smile wasn't real. And your eyes weren't as bright as they usually were. "Hey..." She gently said, "what's wrong?"

You gulped hard as you tried to shake her off with a smile. "Nothing. I'm fine".

The blonde didn't say anything. But you could just tell. By the way she looked at you. The softness in her eyes. The hint of pity or maybe it was sympathy. You couldn't really tell.

Maybe that's why you felt you needed to justify yourself like you usually did when others tried to do the same.

"Look" you chuckled weakly, "if it's because I forgot we were meeting up". You muster on your best smile, "I'm really sorry about that everything has just been really hectic recently and it must have slipped my mind". You send her a sorry smile, "I'm really sorry for wasting your time".

But she just shook her head, "You're never a waste of time".

You could feel your chest constricted again. But this time it was a pleasant feeling.

Before you could get yourself sucked into her gorgeous sky blue eyes, you clear your throat and go to grab your keys. "Yeah. Still I'm really sorry about this. You probably had a million other things you would have preferred to do today".

You pause your moments for a second as you look at her for a second and allow yourself to enjoy it in that instance. You place your hand on her forearm softly as you give her probably one of the only sincere smiles so far today. "Thank you" you say gratefully. "I'm... I'm really happy we reconnected that day and I'm really grateful for you". You squeeze her arm, "Seriously thank you for being my friend".

You go to try and move around her but she's quick to react and gently but firmly grabs your wrist.

"Uh why don't we just stay here instead? Maybe watch a movie or something..."

You scrunched your face at her as you cast a look at the door. But seeing this almost sends Alessia into a panic as she puts herself between you and the door. Her hand going for your hand almost as if to subtly try and take your keys from you.

But you just tighten your grip as you say almost monotonely, "Less I need to go..."

It's seems that Alessia fights with herself as she bites her lip before eventually sighing. "I don't think you should be driving right now Y/n..." She says as softly as she can. Her hand careful drifts upwards and you freeze when you feel her hand cup your cheek. Her thumb grazing underneath your eye.

"It looks like you haven't slept in days" she tried to reason with you. But you suddenly become self-conscious of how you look knowing that she's right and you probably look like a mess right now.

You tried to pull back and push away at her concern. "Less I'm fine really. Now I need to go".

But she doesn't let up on her grip. You pull harder knowing that the blonde is so soft that she would probably let go to avoid hurting you. However, you were mistaken as she doesn't let up. You lick you lips, "Alessia let go".

You could see the blonde visibly stiffen at the use of her first name which made you feel a bit bad. But you push it down right now as you start to feel your frustration bubbling dangerously close to the surface.

But she just shook her head at you. "I don't think you should go" She said plainly. Her eyes scan you once more. "I don't think you should be driving right now. I just don't want anything bad to happen to you".

Honestly your heart swelled knowing that she cared so much for you. But in that moment you didn't know how to react.

No one had ever really gone to these lengths before just to check on you. To make sure you were okay. You didn't know how to react to someone caring thos much for you.

Which caused you to explode.

"Maybe I want something bad to happen!"

The silence was deafening

You watched as Alessia's face broke in front of you. As the realization hit full force as the words tumbled from your mouth. The look of heartbreak on the blonde's face made you want to take the words back. To somehow cram them back into your mouth as of you had said nothing.

But you knew you couldn't. There was no going back from this. So maybe that's why you continued on full force.

"Maybe I want something bad to happen to me" you admitted quietly. But to Alessia it was earth shattering. "Maybe it wouldn't be so bad if something were to happen". You shrugged as tears started to fall, "Maybe if I lost concentration and crashed it wouldn't be the worst thing to happen".

But it seems that she couldn't take it anymore. "Please don't say that" Alessia begs as her grip on your tightens again. Almost as if she's afraid that if she lets go you may disappear for good. "Please don't say that".

You shrug as if it didn't hurt you seeing how upset the forward was. "Well it's true".

Apparently those were the wrong words to say.

"That's not true!" Alessia shouted at you. Despite the tears streaming down her face, her eyes lit with a certain fire. "Don't you dare say that because it isn't true!"

She lets out a shaky breath as she looks at you full on. "Don't you realize how important you are to people? How devastated people would be if something were to happen to you?"

You were in slight shock. It was rare for the forward to yell unless it was soccer related. But this was something else. She seemed to be shaking with anger.

"What about the kids you coach? What about all your friends? Your brothers? Your parents?" She raised her voice slightly. "What do you think happens to them if something was to happen to you?" "They would be devastating Y/n" Alessia said her voice turning soft. "Your family would be inconsolable".

"And I..." Alessia starts but her voice catches. Her hands shake as they raise to stroke your head with a softness unknown to you. "I don't know what I would do" Alessia admits quietly.

You don't know what to do. Your completely overwhelmed. The weight on your chest gets heavier and her heartbeat becomes the only thing you can hear.

But Alessia quickly notices how your breathing picks up and you go off in a daze.

Her hands, however big were always gentle when it came to you. They cupped your face softly as she tried to get you to focus on her. But it was like everything was turned up to a hundred. You had never had one but you imagined this is what a sensory overload felt like.

All you knew was you were suddenly pressed against something soft but firm. Soft fingers gently uncurled your fists from your own shirt and moved it against something else. All you knew it was soft and you could feel the rhythmic beats underneath your fingertips.

You could feel air hitting the side of your head right by your ear. Right before you hear light whispers.

"Hey you're having a panic attack. So I need you to listen to the sound of my voice. Focus on my voice. Can you do that?"

You're just about able to give the smallest nod through your blind panic.

"That's good. That's really good". "Now feel that. Feel my heartbeat under your hand?"

Once again you give a small nod.

"Good. I want you to focus on that. Feel the beat. Don't focus on anything but that. Just feel that".

Somehow through your panic and her frantic ramblings, you are able to follow what she's saying.

"Your doing so well. Now try and follow my breathing.

You listen to her as she instructs you to take some deep inhalations and exhalations. You don't know how long you're there but you eventually feel yourself calm down as you get your breathing under control.

Slowly everything starts to quieten again and calm down around you. Your eyes slowly flutter open only to find the blonde in front of you.

It seems that Alessia noticed you calming down as well as she pulled back a bit. But only a tiny bit before your grip on her tightened not wanting to let go. Looks like Alessia understood what you wanted as she made sure she was still holding you securely. Close enough that her forehead was practically up against yours.

"I'm here" she whispers to you not wanting to frighten you after your panic attack. She nuzzles her head against yours affectionately, "I'm right here. I'm not going anywhere".

Still unable to find your words, you just nodded shakily before clutching onto the blonde.

Alessia readily took you into her arms. Rocking you gently as you buried yourself into her. Your head burrowing itself under head.

It was only then you realized that at some point Alessia had moved the two of you other to the couch. The panic attack had drained you as you leaned into Alessia who was slumped back into the couch.

It was quiet for a long time. Before Alessia decided to speak up. "I don't know what I would do if something were to happen to you".

You pull back from her embrace as you scrunched your face at her confused. "Why? I'm just a nobody".

But the words had barely left your mouth before Alessia is correcting you. "Don't say that!" Her face is mixed with annoyance, frustration and sadness. "Your not a nobody". "Your extremely special" she tells your firmly her eyes flickering across your face. "Especially to me" she whispered softly.

Your breathing hitches as you notice how her eyes focus on your lips before they flicker back up to your eyes. But it seems that when you don't move away she took that as her chance.

Her nose gently nudges yours as she leans back in. She stops barely inches away from you. So close that you shuddered feeling her breath fan against your face. "Can I kiss you?" She asks. Your barely able to find your words as you just about nod and let out a small, "Yes".

You knew that you would remember that kiss forever.

Everything about it was perfect. The way her hands cupped your face. And how her eyes searched yours for any signs of hesitation. How her lips brushed against yours before she fully committed to the kiss.

Or maybe it was just how the whole kiss summed Alessia up perfectly. Soft. Gentle. Innocent.

Or maybe it was the fact you had never felt as loved as you did in that moment.

It was so perfect that even when she pulled back, it only took you a second before you were chasing after her again. But this only earned you a giggle from the blonde. And as much as you wanted to be angry that you couldn't kiss her properly you couldn't find it in you when you saw her smile brake through.

The pair of you sit in a comfortable silence for a minute before her smile dampens a bit as her thumb traces a tear stain on your face.

"Your not a nobody Y/n" she says softly not leaving any room for argument. "Your someone special to a lot of people. Even if you don't realize it..." She bites her lip before continuing, "And from now on I'm going to make sure you know how much people care about you".

She kisses the crown of your head, "No matter how low you feel. I promise you you're never going to go through it alone. Not while I'm around".

You smile as you fixate on her eyes thinking back to that day the two of you had met up for a coffee. "Promise?"

She grins almost as if she's thinking of the exact same thing, which she is. Her eyes crinkle as you smiles and nods. "Promise".

"And I always keep my promises".

Hey guys. Sorry about the complete lack of updates recently. Everything is hitting me all at once and I'm super busy with everything. And if you couldn't tell from this update I haven't been feeling alright recently. So I decided to use it as inspiration really. Anyways I hope you enjoyed it. Hopefully I'll have more updates for you guys soon. Hope you have a good day!

#alessia russo #alessia russo imagine #alessia russo imagines #alessia russo x reader #alessia russo x y/n #manchester united women #manchester united wfc #engwnt

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