#and England losing is just.. man my heart breaks for them

[madamechrissy]

Silent Serenades

♔ An arranged Marriage with Duke Gojo ♔

♔ Pairings: Satoru Gojo x you, you x Nanami, Satoru Gojo x some hoes

♔ Warnings: Heavy, heavy fucking angst, jealousy, smacking, cunnilingus, fingering, loss of virginity, toxic attraction, Gojo is toxic, reader is toxic. OOC. SO MUCH TENSION. Say hello to Mr. Nanami again. Split POV. SLOW BURN remember that.

♔ Word count this chap: 12.2k

♔ Summary: you are the diamond of the season, he is the charming Duke, it’s the marriage of the decade. Prominent families joining, and it so happens that Duke Gojo is gorgeous. But, he doesn't want you, and now you're trapped in a loveless arranged marriage. Royal AU, dark bridgerton vibes, Cruel Gojo x reader. OOC Set in 1800s England. Slow burn, enemies to lovers. Gojo is awful at first, HEAVY angst Basically- Gojo is a royal dick and doesn't wanna marry you - Don't read this if you want a nice Gojo lol.

Comments/ reblogs always appreciated 🥰

Part Six- Masterlist - Playlist

Part Seven- Like a Black Hole

Satoru’s POV

That night

Satoru stomps away from your door, hating the sounds of your sobs, they break him so, tears annoyingly cloying to his own white lashes. He brushes them back as he furiously turns then, clinging to the banister, trying to catch a breath. He’d just had you in his arms, fuck! He just had your lips on his, he just watched your beautiful face as he made you cum, him, Satoru, not…

Not the other man in your heart.

Satoru thought for one moment he could have you, he could truly have you, fuck it’s so maddening, how much he wants you, how he still tastes that honeyed arousal all over his tongue, can still smell how sweet you are, can still feel that soft, silky skin on his fingers. You’ve sank into him, so much so it’s impossible to think of anything else but you.

He had only even invited them earlier in the morning because you’d hurt him so fucking much, looking at him with that cold, icy look. ‘You’ll never be any of my firsts.’ You’d said it so coldly, and you were right, he wasn’t any of them, not a single fucking one, aside from your horrible first kiss, a kiss he’d barely brushed those lips, avoiding pressing too much, because even then…

Even then he’d wanted you.

That first night, when he’d left you so hurt, so broken with his cruelty, and he’d seen you in that chemise, those stockings covering those perfect legs, your nipples pressed against that silk… even then he’d craved you. But he couldn’t fall for it, no he had to hurt you, had to make you hate him, and he wished he didn't succeed so damn well.

Satoru feels so stupid, so stupid, god he just wants to hold you!? Hold someone, and fuck if he hadn’t done that in so goddamn long, not since her, not since Adelia. The goddamn doppelganger of you, the woman who ruined him, she was the last to elicit such feelings, but the difference was…

He wants you more, fuck kissing you was better than anything he’d ever felt, and pleasing you had him so close he almost came right in that carriage just drinking up that wetness. When your eyes looked at him in those gardens earlier, when he started to see what your mother had done to you, what he had inadvertently made worse, the pain he’d wrought, it killed him.

Those eyes that glittered under that soft moonlight, that looked at him with such desire in that dark carriage, and fuck when he carried you in, it made him think, that wedding night, when he refused to. Fuck why couldn’t he carry you, why did he do this, make it to where he’s begging to taste his own wife, begging for anything from you, so pathetic, you make him desperate just existing.

Where he’d thought he could fuck women and forget you, even when they all pale in comparison, he can’t stomach it tonight. He knows you’ll run off to that man tomorrow, fuck you’ll probably lose your innocence to him, he would not care, he would not care if he had to be second, if he had to beg for just some of your affection. He would still do it, because nothing felt as good as you.

If he could have just stayed away.

How can he stay away from you though?

He had you, in his arms, hands on your backside as he pressed you against the wall, and fuck it took everything not to fuck you there, you were so close to just being his if even for tonight. Until his previous actions, filled with pettiness and hurt, came back to haunt him, and he worries now he can never fix this, fix this goddamn mess he caused himself.

How was Satoru to know he’d fucking fall for the woman he wanted to hate so bad? How would he know he cannot hate you, not one bit, because all you’ve done is stay strong and brilliant no matter the horrible shit he threw at you so fucking casually, how you got a mouth right back, how your back was so fucking straight as you threw your knives back at him.

How you so easily found someone clearly enamored, how could you not, just look at you, the most beautiful creature he’d seen, yet he’d told you that you were unattractive, passable, average. You’d take all those hits and it clearly broke you, though you didn’t show it, he could tell when your face fell, when he felt your shoulders shake with sobs.

He was horrible.

Was he any better than his piece of shit father? He certainly was not good enough for you, and if he had any care whatsoever for you, he would tell you to go be with that man, he’d leave you be. He’s allow you some happiness, but Satoru is selfish, fuck he’s selfish, to try to drag you into his black hole, to make you suffocate with his anger, with his words, with his falsehoods.

You deserved to be happy, you deserved to bake cookies and have some man fawn over you, fuck you deserved the world, and all he’s given you is suffering. For one moment he thought something could change, be repaired, when he’d held your hand under that tablecloth, when he’d finally done one decent thing for you, a pathetic, paltry thing.

It wasn’t enough, of course, but he thought briefly how beautiful it felt, to live in the lie of being in love with each other, to be together truly, not to live this… what was this exactly? What was it that Satoru Gojo, the Duke, had brought upon both of you? This sadness, this sorrow, this anger, it was all of his doing.

Even when you’d seen Satoru fingering that maid in those gardens on your damn wedding day, even when he ignored you during that ceremony, you genuinely tried to be with him at your wedding night. You’d brushed that hair until it was shimmering, you’d had color on your cheeks and lips, clearly done by your Nan. You’d worn the most beautiful, sexy little thing, and he’d told you lies boldly.

He’d heard your sobs when he left that night, he pictured you, so small and helpless, so devastated, and he’d thought ‘good’ because crisis averted, you hated him, and he’d never fall in love. But then he couldn’t stop craving you, the more you pushed him away, the more you ignored him, he couldn’t help but want your words, your touch, even if it was a smack in his face, a curse word.

You consumed him before, but it worsens with every interaction, especially when he could be so sweet with you, just for that beautiful moment, when he could tell you how pretty you are, truly. When he could drink in your beautiful soul, that is what sets you so apart from any woman he’d known, that kindness in your soul to a creature like him who could never deserve it.

You’d covered for him, you’d forgiven him for some of his actions, how could you forgive him, how could you? Don’t you realize he doesn’t deserve it, even if he craves it, even if he needs it, but you opened to him, he watched you open, even though he knows you’re so scared to, and you should be, because what does he do, but disappoint you, time and again.

He stomps down the stairs of his manor, feeling it so cold and empty before you got here, and now you bring so much to it, he even loves sitting with you at breakfast, he’d not tell you so. He’d like it even more if you ate, like he’d forced you to this morning, a paltry attempt at righting things, when he just causes more and more anguish, this time unwillingly.

Satoru hates himself.

“You!” Satoru first heads to the butler, who is serving these two women more of Satoru’s champagne. “That’s it, you can find employment elsewhere. Read the room, goddammit man.”

“Your grace!”

“No, stay the night, and I’ll have a stipend for you ready with recommendations, you’re lucky you’ll even get that. After this, I never want to see your face again.” The butler leaves quickly, Satoru wanted to be much more cruel, but he knew the man had family, so his stipend would be generous.

But fuck that insolent butler.

The girls look at Satoru, smiling curiously, infuriating him worse. You’re so much more beautiful, so much more class in you, even when you’re being a wanton little whore, you out class and out shine everyone. How could he even stomach another woman now that he’s felt you cumming, now that he’s drank you?

“And you two, leave.”

The girls stop giggling then, looking at each other, then at Satoru, curiously. “Whatever do you mean, Satoru? Clearly… she’s not even here! She ran away like a little-”

“Do not speak of her.” He says through gritted teeth, yanking their glasses of wine out of their hands. “You have no right to speak about a Duchess, not either of you, not one word.”

“She’s clearly upstairs now, why ruin the fun?” Lady Elaine says, and Satoru’s mistress scowls.

“Because he wants her, he speaks of her-”

“Yes I want her, why the fuck wouldn’t I!?” He says then, so tired of this annoying, insecure and cloying mistress. She starts to sniffle, tears down her face. “Jesus, I’ll make sure you’re taken care of nicely for the month, so you can find another man to do so. Bloody hell you’re annoying.”

“It’s not just that, Satoru-”

“Don’t call me by my first name.” He says then, through his teeth. “I’ll ready a carriage for both of you.”

“Duke Gojo…” Lady Elaine says softly, and he rolls his blue eyes, looking at her seriously. “You do know she was with a man that night?”

“Yes I damn well know, and I was fucking you.” His - former? - mistress pouts again, lip trembling, so goddamn annoying.

“Yes, but you’re a Duke, and a man. Surely-”

“You’re married, Lady Elaine. Want you husband to know I fucked you on your hands and knees last night, my seed spilt all over your backside?” Satoru asks then, with a white brow shot up, and she gasps, sputtering. “Didn’t think so. Do not speak ill of my wife.”

“Your wife!? You both don’t even-”

“Enough. Get your things.” Satoru stomps off, asking his attendant to ready a carriage to take these annoying women home, even though he knows it matters naught, that you’re already done with him right now. He still can’t touch them, can’t look upon them, can’t hear their words about you, wrought from jealousy.

But he’d said worse things.

How can he call you a whore when you do what he’s pushed you to, when if he’d just been the smallest bit kind, you’d have been under him instead? When you both clearly had the most intense connection he’d ever felt, when he lost himself in your pretty eyes, when he lost himself in your kisses.

So now, the Duke Gojo, lies in his cold, empty bed, staring up at the ceiling, painted with intricate angels that he studies, when the angel he wants to study cries in the room next to him. The candles on his nightstands cast flickering shadows across the room, and he feels his coldness, he shivers, aching for a body he’d never held.

Satoru wasn’t a man that cried, not after what she’d done to him, he’d made sure to stop any emotions from that point, to become a cold version of himself. Even his best friends, Shoko and Suguru, had not been as close to him, had noticed his change, long before you, they just did not realize the depth of his cruelty. You have been punished for just looking the way you do.

Prettier than any angel on his ceiling, which blur through his intense emotions, as his heart thuds in his chest, as it feels like someone is squeezing it like a vise. The tears stream down his cheeks, unnoticed by anyone but himself, as he thinks of your rejection, your pain, and the chasm he’s created between you two, the one he thought he could repair just by pleasing you.

He’s such a fucking fool, even then, you’d asked him to explain, you were going to give him a chance, but how could he express it, express his pain and inadvertently his stupidity. How could he ever hope to build something or repair something he himself destroyed before it ever started? Satoru has never felt so helpless, so lost, this wound of seeing you like this hurts more than her cheating on him.

So Satoru cries quietly, not wanting anyone to hear his weakness, his sorrow. It’s a stark contrast to the man he’s always portrayed to the world, to you, this cold, unfeeling man. No, for you he burns, fuck he yearns for you every moment he breathes, every second his heart beats, and now he feels you slip through the fingers you should have never been in.

You have cracked his mask somehow, you’ve seen who he truly is, even if for that one beautiful moment, or who he was before her. That terrifies him because now he knows he’s not immune to love, no matter how much he closed himself off, no matter how much he threw himself into pleasure, he’s not immune to the pain, and it’s a worse pain than he’s ever felt, the aching in his heart for you.

He thought he knew what love was with her, with Adelia. Fuck even her name makes him sick, even her teary eyes as he paid her an enormous amount to leave the country and never come back. As she’d pleaded her damn way, trying to convince him it was his father’s fault, and sure it was, but he’d walked right in on her, riding his damn father and moaning, laughing about Satoru.

His dad had brushed it off with a cruel laugh, he’d always made sure to have several mistresses around, and Satoru watched his mother endure, watching the pain in her eyes, as he knew his mother fell in love with his dad. And he always wondered how she had, but now he saw it, now he knew.

Satoru had become like the person he hates the most in this world, he parades mistresses right in front of you, fuck even his father had kept his actions to the bed chamber, not right in the open. Satoru left that door open for you to see, for it to hurt you, so you’d never try to know him, so that you’d hate him, even his piece of shit father had more class.

How did you kiss him, after he did this to you? How could you even look at Satoru Gojo, were you that much of an angel? Were you that kind hearted, to the point of being foolish… you are foolish to have kissed him back, to have let him touch you, to have cried out his name.

‘Satoru, Satoru!’

Fuck.

He slams a hand over his face, feeling the cold air blow through the windows, he should shut it but he just cannot, he cannot move, he’d like to freeze to death, he’d like to let you be free of him. Maybe he should actually give you that annulment now, let you live your happy life, it’s what you deserve, you don’t deserve him, his cruelty, his confusion.

But he’s too selfish.

He’s always been good at pushing people away, but you’ve stuck now, like a thorn in his side that’s burrowed deep into his heart, despite his best efforts of keeping you so far. Just one look from your eyes, just one brush of his big hand on your waist, over those corsets you wear so tight, fuck he wants to rip them off you, see you fully, completely, not in bits and pieces, the full picture of you.

Has that man seen you fully?

Satoru is sure he had, fuck he saw your breasts first, as you had so blatantly said, coming home with marks and smirking at him, Satoru had made even you act cruel, and he did deserve your cruelty. He did not deserve the slightest kindness, and even now he will not even open up, because he doesn’t know where to start, it’s no excuse for his treatment of you, an innocent young lady with a heart too kind.

The bed feels like a prison, the silk sheets a mockery of the warmth and comfort he craves, the warmth of your delicate body, one that drives him to insanity. He’s been so lost in his own despair for so long, now he feels so much regret for hurting the one person he’s grown to need so desperately.

Duke Gojo is a mess for you, for a woman he does not deserve, and likely ruined any chance of ever having. 

You’ve tried to ignore him, to push him away, but he can’t bear it, he would never let you, even though he should, not when he constantly needs to feel your skin, taste your tears as he kisses you, tears he brings. He was truly cruel, more cruel than anyone he can fathom, not allowing you to breathe without him invading your space.

It takes everything not to keep begging to come into your room, to not just unlock that goddamn door, he has the keys, and kiss his apologies all over your body. To make you feel so good maybe you could forget, for just a moment, the endless anguish he has brought on you. But he knows it’s wrong, he knows all of this is wrong, he knows it’s likely too late for stupid, pathetic apologies.

He knows you’re in your room, just as he’s in his, both of you suffering in your own silent hell, one of his making. Misery, for what, when he could have had happiness, happiness with you, but because you looked like Adelia he treated you like he would her, no worse than he had her. And what had you done, but be a bright and hopeful bride?

He remembers hating you as you both courted, but he held it in check, thinking surely he had time to marry anyone, but the family bonds pushed and pushed you. God forbid a woman becomes of age and a parent doesn’t throw them to the wolves, and thrown to this wolf you have been, not even knowing what sex was, not even knowing your body’s reactions.

But fuck if Satoru did not want to know every inch of your body, fuck if he wouldn’t just lick you every day and nothing in return, if only you would stay in his arms. And this is what he feared, to be so desperate, to be so pathetic, but pushing you away had not prevented it, not one bit, not when you were designed so perfectly, not when your beauty made his heart falter.

Not when he wanted to know you, truly know you, what made you tick, what made you laugh, what made you cry. Aside from him. He laughs bitterly, turning to his side and hugging the pillow tightly, resting his face on it, imagining himself holding you instead. What would it be like to have you in his arms, not writhing and trying to fight him, but to…

To sleep next to you.

Eventually, the tears slow to a stop, and his eyelids grow heavy. He’s exhausted from the emotional turmoil, the fight with his own desires and the pain of his reality. As he drifts towards unconsciousness, he’s vaguely aware of light footsteps outside his door, so he shuts his eyes, white lashes fluttering, his lips parted as he exhales, feeling your presence.

He keeps his breathing even, pretending to sleep, not wanting to face you, not like this, he hopes you cannot tell he’s cried. When you enter the room, he can smell your sweet scent, like cherries in the sunlight, it’s unreal how sweet you always smell, he could find you anywhere.

He imagines how the candlelight must be illuminating your features just so, imagines if your own eyes are red and puffy from your own tears. You’ve come to check on him, and he can feel the compassion radiating from you, despite everything, despite the fact you should feel nothing.

Your kindness as you close the window, clearly sensing it’s a chilled night, it’s something he does not deserve. And when you exhale, bending low, he feels the softness of your strands of hair against his bare skin. God, he wants to pull you down for a kiss, to capture those full, pretty lips on his own. God even your hair smells so good, as you blow out his candle, engulfing you both in darkness.

When you pull that blanket over him, so caringly, it’s like a knife twisting in his gut, the guilt of what he’s done not just to such a sweet human being, but to a woman he’s feeling things for. Conflicting, intense, terrifying things, and now he knows that all the pushing away just caused you both pain, yet here you are.

Why do you care?

All Satoru is, is this monster, a despicable monster in the dark that’s ruined everything, ruined you fucking life, as you tuck him in, as you tentatively brush his snowy white hair back with careful fingers. For a moment, he considers reaching out to you, pulling you into his arms, but he stops himself.

He doesn’t deserve your comfort, not after what he’s done, he deserves nothing but suffering, not your caresses, not your kisses, and maybe you would fall for him if he did pull you close, maybe you’d melt like you do. Against your will, just as his feelings are for you, as both of you fight the one thing that feels so natural, like breathing, yet breathing is so difficult without you.

Without you near Satoru feels empty, but how can he expect you to fill a void you have no clue of? How can he even expect you now, as he lies there, feigning sleep, and you’re brushing your sweet fingers down one of his high cheekbones. He feels your touch, your gaze on him, the warmth of your presence in his chilly room, in his freezing cold heart.

This is more than he deserves, getting to drink you in, after he’d heard you sob in that room, after he watched the crestfallen look on your face, and all he could do was beg for you, be pathetic. As his dad told him so often when he was younger, ‘Satoru, you’re just pathetic, look at you’ and then he’d made that so true.

But you deserve better than Satoru Gojo’s long standing issues, his anger that was directed at you.

Why are you here!?

With a sigh, you quietly leave the room now, the door clicking shut behind you. Satoru’s eyes remain closed, his heart feeling like it’s been shattered into a million pieces, the emotion stuck in his throat as he clings to that pillow, snug and warm under the blanket you’d draped over him, picturing your beautiful face.

He needed to fucking make this right, you don’t deserve this, even if you chose another man. Satoru can’t change the past, but he’ll be damned if he doesn’t try to make up for it, to see if he could make you happy, to see if he could stop fucking everything up so royally.

But for now, he’s just a man in his bed, a man who’s lost the one thing he never knew he wanted, the one thing he never knew could make him feel so alive and so destroyed all at once.

You.

And so, he lies there, his thoughts racing, until finally, sleep claims him, the first real rest he’s had in what feels like an eternity, brought on by your sweet caresses. But, even in his dreams, you’re there, your sad eyes looking at him with a mix of anger and disappointment. He wishes he could apologize, could explain, could do anything to take it all back.

Where would Satoru Gojo begin?

But all he can do is sleep for now, and those dreams of kissing you, begging for you, as you run off with another man, with that blond man with rough hands, and he’s just sobbing, on his knees. You look at him kindly, and tell him you have no hatred for him, just merely no love, before you dance away, flitting like a pretty little butterfly, as he reaches out, grasping air.

Would this be his fate, constantly wishing that he’d not ruined something, ran it into the fucking ground before he began, only to watch you happy, finally, so far away from him? It would leave him alone, with these endless women, drowning in their moans and alcohol, struggling to forget you, something he chose, Satoru chose all of this.

How could Satoru even breathe if you’re not here?

Your POV

“Where are you going?” Satoru asks the next morning, your neck is sore from tossing and turning, you’re exhausted from the lack of sleep, as you stand in your light blue day dress and bonnet. Satoru is sitting at the white grand piano in the drawing room, pecking keys with his long fingers, in a melancholy tune.

You have to admit it’s quite beautiful however, as he peers up at you, and hits those keys harder and harder, in a crescendo as he towers those notes down, lower and lower. His hands cross each other as he peers right at you, with those stormy blue eyes, and you feel yourself tense as you remember last night, when you’d been in his arms, against the wall.

Fuck he’d made you feel so insane, like an all consuming madness, and then you realized it before it was too late, that you were a fool. You’d been willing to give this man everything and all he’d given you was some pleasure, some attention, were you truly so pathetic that it only took that? Were you so keen to excuse the endless insults, the endless parade of women?

The endless torture this beautiful man who plays the piano so expertly, as he’d played you, it’s as if you’re fading off listening to it.

“I’m off to take a walk to town, it’s been so long. Hello, Satoru.” You coo at your puppy, who is running in circles around your feet, and you’re giggling at his cute expressions as he plays. Duke Gojo is staring seriously at you, his jaw clenched, his lips together tightly, studying you so carefully. “What are your plans, Duke?”

“My plans?” He laughs hoarsely, coming up then, the note ending in a high pitched screech as he walks toward you, drinking you in with that azure gaze, as if he remembered everywhere he kissed.

You are a horrible person.

You are such a fucking fool.

If Satoru Gojo just touches you a certain way, you melt in his arms, you are just like putty, ready to be molded for one of his whims. And how can you be so apt to do so!? How do you have no self control with this man, you, who has had so much control her entire life, you, who has always been the picture perfect lady, but now you do not know yourself.

“My plans are worrying where you’ll be.” His husky voice breaks you out of your reverie, as he tilts your chin up with two fingers, as his vulnerable words and looks threaten to ruin you.

“Why worry about me?” You whisper back, and he sighs, leaning down, forcing you to step back, making him glare.

“Why worry? Did last night mean nothing to you!?” You laugh then, harshly and without humor.

“Of course I thought it meant something, but it did not to you!”

“Yes it did! You have no idea-”

“Duke Gojo, stop this, just stop this game. You’ve gotten my hatred, you said you never wanted to lay with me, you get that as well. You get everything you initially asked for, why can’t you leave me alone?” You demand then, tears threatening, your chest heaving with shallow breaths, throat so tight.

He grabs your shoulders with his huge, warm hands, as you shiver from the coldness of your soul. “Because it’s not true, it’s not true at all. How could I not want you!?”

“You can’t just say that. And it matters naught, so what if you want my body finally, you do not even know me.” He blinks then, brows drawing together, his snowy long lashes low over his eyes.

“I know you very well. Did you forget?” He’s caressing up the sides of your breasts now, and you tremble, shaking your head.

“Not my body, me. Do you know a single thing, do you care to? Just because you… find my body attractive, at least I’m assuming…”

“Your body is fucking gorgeous. I want to see all of it.” He’s pulling you against him now, and you shake your head, trying to ease out of his grip.

“You don’t know me. You won’t open up to me. You don’t care about anything, and you hated me until you decided you want to what, fuck me first? Claim me? It means nothing.”

“Then stay, then stay and let me try to get to know you. Please.” You want to, fuck you want to, but you can’t fold so easily for this man, for this cruel monster, even if for once he’s kind, you cannot trust him. The man that had so coldly ruined you the first night, the night of your wedding.

How could you forget?

Sobbing on that goddamn floor, then him being so nasty, flaunting Catherine, fucking a random woman on the table, telling you not to exist!? His nasty demeanor, his cruel words, and you could still see yourself making love to him, letting his insane passion consume you both. The borderline of hatred and passion that threatens to destroy you from the inside out.

“You made your choice for us before you even knew me.” You say softly then, as tears fall down your face, and you watch him visibly gulp.

“Please, it can’t be too late. Please.”

“Then tell me, give me something! Fuck, anything Satoru!” You shove at him, and he shuts down, right in front of your eyes, driving you fucking crazy. You sigh, shaking your head. “You shut me out, and expect me to open up? That’s such bullshit.”

“Just don’t go, I’ll do anything, don’t see him.”

“And you-”

“I sent them home! Immediately. For good.” He says, and you gasp at that, blinking rapidly, your heart thrumming in your chest.

“You… immediately?” You ask then, as he confirms what you wondered at before.

Satoru nods then, cupping your face, and you hate what his touch does, not just physically… but emotionally. You crave comfort in the man that brought you all of this pain, as you shut your eyes, mentally steeling yourself for what you’d have to do. To turn him down, when everything in your body craves him, because you just can’t keep going on like this.

“One right thing changes nothing.” You say softly, and watch him be crushed, watch you crush him with your words. You don’t want to say this, you want to believe him, forgive him, kiss him… fuck you want to be that fake couple you all were, to believe the dream, but you’re not that stupid.

“So I can’t ever earn your forgiveness?” He asks softly, and you sigh, looking away then.

“I’ll forgive you, I already have forgiven some things… but it changes nothing. We will not be together soon, and we both can move on from this.”

His face hardens, his grip tight on you. “From ‘this’ What, torture of having to be with me?”

“Yes!” You snap then, turning away and taking several breaths. “Now I have to ruin the happiness I have, because I was a fucking idiot for you.”

He follows you to the door, slamming it now, pressing against your body, his hard body consuming your small one, hands gripping your waist, burning you, everything Satoru Gojo did burned you. You burn for his touch, for his kisses, even if you fucking hate him, even if you hate yourself for it. He’s shooting desire hot through you as his breath against your neck makes you shiver.

“I’ll do anything, let me pleasure you again? Please.” He’s begging, the man who said he’d never want you, gripping you between your thighs over your layers, and you’re whimpering against your will.

“We cannot.” You whisper, making him sigh, kissing against your neck, rubbing against your heat, having you dripping in moments. “We must not. We will not be together, it’s what you wanted.”

“I didn’t know what I wanted.” You exhale, head falling back, as he constantly pulls you to him, like some moth to his flame, as you ache to feel him, as you feel him slowly wrecking your psyche, in this endless push and pull, that will only end in you being crushed. “I’d die to feel you again. Anything you want I’ll do.”

Fuck.

“You won’t open up, you won’t… explain… fuck.” Satoru’s kissing hungrily on your neck, as your hand press against the door, and you’re throbbing around nothing, fuck it would feel so good to let him. You suck in a breath, shake your head, steeling yourself. “I’m seeing him.”

“Please, don’t, I can’t stand it. Please.” His desperation nearly gets you, Satoru could stab you, make you bleed, then whine in your ear and you’d forgive him, you’re so stupid for this toxic man. You hate your body’s reactions, you hate your heart faltering for him.

“I have to tell him what I’ve done.”

“What, let your husband make you cum harder than you ever have?” His words against your ear threaten to destroy your resolve, until you turn around, shoving him back, ignoring the shrunken pupils, making his eyes look insane. Ignoring those glossy lips and his beautiful face.

“It’s not right. None of this is.”

“How is it not right? It’s what we’re supposed to be doing. Fuck, more… if you’d just let me show you, I could make you feel even better-”

“It’s just physical, that’s it, some… reaction.” You take several breaths, as you watch Satoru’s face fall. “It will likely ruin my only happiness, what we did, so you’ll see me sad and depressed again. But not for long, because I can’t wait to annul this marriage, to be free of you.”

He blinks back emotions of his own, and your heart shatters at the glossiness in his eyes. “Give me a fucking chance first!”

“You do not care for me, not one bit! You do not love me. You just want my body, that’s not enough Satoru.”

“As if he doesn’t just want your body.”

“You’re wrong. I suggest you invite those ladies back over, because you’ll not have me in your bed. I can’t fucking take that sort of pain, I was so stupid last night, thank god they came.”

Satoru slams his hand on the door by the side of your head, glaring down at you now. “Fuck that! You know that’s-”

“Let me go.” You say then, through gritted teeth, and he rakes a hand through his white hair, sputtering.

“So there’s just no fucking chance at you?” He says then, and you turn away, hand on the door knob, shoulders shaking as you hold in your sobs. “Answer me, insolent fucking brat.”

You say nothing, walking out the doors then, leaving his devastated face that you can’t stand to see, ignoring his protests as you go to devastate another man with your stupid actions.

“Darling!” Nanami Kento answers the door to his apartments with a grin, but when he sees your serious face, it falters, then his blond brows draw together, that strong jaw tightening. “Is something wrong?”

“Can we talk, Kento?” You ask softly, and you watch him gulp, nodding tersely, letting you in and shutting the door behind you both. Your heart is racing in your chest, stomach feeling so sick, as you think of what you’ll have to say.

“What’s wrong? Did I cross a line last time?” He says, and your heart hurts so badly you damn near can’t breathe, clutching your chest as he stands in front of you, and you feel the walls closing in, dreading hurting him.

“No, not at all. Not one bit. No, you are… Kento, I…”

“Do you need to sit?”

“I… n-no, I should say this and then get out of your sight, surely.” Kento frowns in confusion, a line forming as his brow knits in concern.

“Nothing would make me want you out of my sight.” He whispers, and you shut your eyes as he’s deftly holding your arms in his rough, warm grip.

“I was intimate with Duke Gojo.” He blinks then, gasping, his lips falling apart as he steps back, and you feel like collapsing under your stupid actions, hugging yourself as you watch his face fall.

“You were what with him? What do you mean!?” He chokes out the words, and you take a breath for courage.

“He pleasured me. As you have.” He turns then, raking a hand through his blonde hair, scoffing. “I have wronged you, severely-”

“You let him touch you? Why would you, I don’t fucking understand, the man that said you’re a pig, the one that fucks women in front of you? The man that had you afraid to eat a goddamn cookie?” He is speaking through his teeth, glaring then, and you shrink back, tears welling up in your eyes, as you feel disgusted at yourself.

“I’m so sorry, Kento. I had to tell you, it wouldn’t be right if I continued on, and you had no knowledge.”

“I… what… you… why…”

“I wanted to thank you.” You’re sniffling, tears rushing hot down your cheeks as you watch the pain on his features. “For making me feel so special, for listening to me, for being… so many of my firsts. I am only sorry you met me, that you got hurt by me, please forget about me. Please live your life, and find someone worthy, so that I will be just a bad memory.”

His mouth opens, brows raised, as you cover your face, sobbing into them, turning away then and stumbling to the door. “Where are you going?”

“To leave, so you can forget me. I don’t expect you to ever forgive me.”

“And you’ll be with him?”

“No. I’ll get an annulment, for I cannot go on with him. But it matters naught, it’s no longer something you should worry for. I deserve no kindness.” You choke on a cry then, hand on the knob, but his stops over yours, making you shiver, as he cups your face then, tilting your head. He swipes your tears softly, further breaking your heart, that you’re such a fucking fool.

“Are you running away, Duchess?” He whispers, and you look at him in confusion.

“You cannot want to look upon me. Did you not hear what I’ve done!?”

“You did something with your husband. I expected you to have already been intimate with him, it was surprising when you were not. Did you not think I knew such a role as a… the other man… would not entail that? I’m more surprised you let someone so terrible touch you. Please come talk.”

You gasp, turning a bit towards him. “You do not need to help me with the annulment, with anything. I’m horrible! Don’t you see!?”

“You are not horrible.” You laugh without humor, as you look at his tired, sweet hazel eyes, that are way too fucking kind.

“I am! I let him, I did, don’t you understand I was disloyal?”

“So what, you wanted to feel desired by the man who made you feel so terrible? It’s an entire trauma response. You can’t blame yourself.” He’s caressing your face, and you can’t stand it, can’t stand what you’ve done.

“You’re being too nice! You should hate me!” You shove at his hard chest then, as you struggle more and more to breathe, hands numb, so numb you have to shake them, and he frowns at you, lines in his cheeks deepening.

“Hate you? How could I hate you? You came to tell me, you clearly care for our relationship. I knew this was a possibility. You think I don’t want you now?”

“How can you! How can you!? Nanami…. Fuck I can’t… fuck…” You’re gasping for breath, your throat so tight, like something is sitting on your chest, you nearly collapse, and Nanami holds you then, as you cannot speak.

“Darling, what’s wrong? Please, sit. What can I do?” How can he be so kind to you, you don’t deserve it, any of it. You’re the awful woman who almost laid with Gojo, after everything. You open your mouth to speak, but now you’re feeling fuzzy, as you can’t get a breath. “What can I do!?”

“As-as-”

“Asthma?” He asks gruffly, and you barely manage a nod, as you are seeing black spots, as you’re fading. He rushes off then, coming back with hot black coffee steaming in one of his ceramic cups. “Here, please, drink.”

You gratefully put your lips to the rim of the cup, sipping and then coughing into your hand, so embarrassing, but he urges you to drink again, as you cough up more and more, air flowing finally to your lungs. He continues to feed you sips, deftly unlacing your corset with his free hand, rubbing your back, as you start to come to, with greedy breaths.

You take a deep one, tears dripping off your lashes as you look at him, at his exhale of relief. “Fuck, you terrified me. Are you okay?”

“Thank you… how did you…”

“My nephew has it as well. I should have noticed sooner, you always rub your throat here.” His thumbs brush against your throat, and you swallow nervously, overwhelmed, starting to get upset again, but Nanami is brushing your hair back gently, sighing. “You do not need to get that upset, it makes it so much worse.”

“How can I not be upset that I wronged a man like you!? I hate myself, I hate myself so much!” You’re sobbing holding your hands to your face now, and Nanami gently takes them down, tilting your chin up, and you slowly try to come to, breasts heaving up and down.

“Do not say such things. I do not hate you.” He says softly, his voice breaking in the middle, eyes glimmering with his own emotions, Nanami was always so calm, so collected, but now…

“I hate me enough for you too. Your life would be better if you never met me, if I never-” He slams his lips on yours then, hands gripping your wrists tightly, and you sink into him, into the kiss, before yanking away. “I don’t deserve your kisses! I don’t deserve any attention from you!”

“Will you let me decide what you deserve?” He whispers, pulling you closer, until you’re flush against his chest. “I wish you did not hate yourself, because I feel quite the opposite. I love so much about you, your smile, how you are so different from other nobles, you’re so humble, so sweet. I love your laugh, and how comfortable your presence is.”

“Nanami, you can’t like me. You can’t.” You sniffle more, and he’s got an arm wrapped around your waist, making you feel so safe, so loved almost, when you don’t feel you deserve it. You watch him sigh, as he kisses your forehead, and your eyelashes flutter shut. “You cannot be fine with this, you deserve someone you can have fully, not in pieces!”

“I’d take pieces of you over any whole person.” You kiss him back fervently now, straddling his lap, as your tears flow down your face, and he’s kissing them, his hands ripping off your corset then, shocking you for a moment as you catch a breath.

“Why do you care? Why do you want me?” You ask, through your tears, and he cups your face, gazing at you so seriously, as you feel him hard against you.

“Why wouldn’t I want you? I ache for you, you’re all I can think of, wishing you were here, with me, not with him. Not being destroyed, to the point of hating yourself. Wishing to see that light in those eyes, that girl I met.” You sniffle again, teeth clenching, hands gripping in his hair, as you both taste each other’s breaths.

“She’s dead and gone, Kento.” You whisper brokenly, and he shakes his head, pulling you even closer, so close you can’t breathe.

“She is not, she is right here.” Kento’s hands slide up your stocking clad thighs, pulling you firmer on him. “You will not let this ruin you. I will only leave this if you do not… want me.”

“Kento, how could I not!? How could anyone not want you!”

“I say the same to you. Can you not see what I do?” He kisses you again, and you exhale against his lips, as your tongues meet, as he’s undressing you right on his living room floor, as you’re fervently unbuttoning his shirt, kissing down his chest, his hot skin, earning his sexy soft moans. “Darling… you’re upset. I must stop.”

“Yes I’m upset, I’m upset I hurt you.” You say hoarsely, running your hands down every hard muscle. “I’m upset I was an idiot. A whore.”

“You are no whore.” He says angrily, and you shake your head.

“Oh, I’ve become one lately. Look at me? What I’ve done, hurting you-”

“Let me decide what I can and cannot take.”

“Then take me.” He pauses, at your insanely bold words, as your pulse pounds so hard you can feel it thrumming your whole body like a beat of a drum. “If you want me, take me.”

“If I want you? You speak so foolishly at times, as if you have no clue your effects, as if I haven’t dreamed of this.” You’re in his arms now, as he easily carries you to his bed, kissing you over and over, taking off the remnants of your dress, slipping his fingers down your slit, watching you arch up, gasping. “The nights where I dream of tasting you again.”

“But I…”

“I care not what happened.” Kento’s hot lips trail down your stomach, as his mouth finds you, and it’s harder than he’d gone before, desperate strokes of a skilled tongue, his thick fingers stretching your entrance, and you’re clinging to him, screaming out and shaking.

“Kento! Mmm!” You’re so close, as he pumps those fingers in and out, as he looks up at you, flicking the tip of his tongue on your clit, watching you as you cum, as you lose yourself in him, in his affection, in his care, and you yank on him, pulling him up. “Please, please, please.”

“What you do to me…” He slides up you, fully naked, as you reach down to his thick length, but he halts you, grabbing your wrist, pinning it above your head, studying you. “You must be sure, I do not want you to regret this.”

You take more breaths, as your addled mind runs everywhere, as you see the man that could love you, that cares, so much he forgives your foolishness, then as you shut your eyes, you see Satoru Gojo’s brilliant blue eyes. The sadness in them, the mystery, the coldness, just yesterday you’d been with him, so close to losing your virginity.

“We can stop. I can pleasure you more, sweet girl.” Nanami says, and you look up at him, as he cups your face, as his blond hair falls over his brow just so, a man that is open, that cares, that has not faltered. A man that just made you cum, who you just adore, and now you feel his hot length on your inner thigh. You raise your hips, biting your lower lip, and watching his eyes shut as he moans.

“I want you to be my first, Nanami Kento. You.” You say then, and gasp when he reaches down, rubbing the tip of his cock against you, and he tenses, the hand bracing himself entangling in your hair.

“I only have so much willpower, I will not deny my Darling what she asks.” You melt, smiling up at him, and he smiles just a bit, leaning down, his weight heavy on you. “Just always be honest with me. Will you promise?”

“I promise, I swear, I will be honest.”

“Even if it… hurts me.”

You choke up again, caressing his handsome face with a free hand. “Even if it hurts, I swear.”

“And this may hurt for a moment. Will you forgive me?” You nod then, gasping in shock and pain when his thick length presses inside your eager little entrance, breaking that little barrier so deep, and he pauses, groaning, resting his head on yours as you’re crying in pain. “Fuck, I’m so sorry. Please, give it a moment.”

You feel the burn, as Nanami reaches down, grabbing one of your thighs, pressing in deeper, you feel every emotion known to man as you realize what you’re doing, and that Satoru will hate you. As you feel too full, far too full, so stretched as he pulls back, then presses in again, your teeth clenching from the pain. Nanami looks at you, worry and pleasure mixing on his face.

“You’re too tiny, I’m sorry, I’m sorry. You feel so perfect.”

Perfect, huh?

“Please, let me…” Nanami finds your clit, as he kisses down your throat, and you’re staring at his ceiling, hating yourself, hating all that you feel, and wanting to forget it all. You feel him sucking on your throat, right where Satoru had, as you grow wetter under his ministrations, as you feel him sinking deeper, and it starts to hurt less just a bit.

You hate yourself as he moans, as he looks down lovingly at you, concern in his gaze, as he eases back, then slides in again, and you gasp, as it starts to feel good, clinging to his waist. He’s exhaling, kissing you softly, releasing your clit to grab your breasts, to kiss on them, to gently suck a nipple into his mouth. He rolls his hips just so, hitting a spot deep that feels good.

“Ah! Mmm… I… that feels…” He smiles just a bit, pressing kisses on your lush breasts, sliding one hand to cup your face. “Feels… good.”

“I want you to feel good, sweet girl. I want to feel your perfect little pussy tighten around me.” His husky words, along with the motions of his hips, start to work you up, as your body accommodates, as you stretch around his cock, and get wetter. “You’re so beautiful, darling, you feel so good.”

You melt under his praise, as he now pumps into you, more steady, so deep you feel him completely, as he sinks fully in, moaning and cupping your face with both his hands, eyes looking into yours as he works his hips. Nanami Kento is gently making love to you, touching you everywhere he can, kissing your body everywhere he can, as you fall more into it, into the feelings.

The pressure in your tummy.

The slickness of your pussy.

The trembling of your thighs around his hips.

The way he looks at you.

“Darling… darling let me feel you, let me feel you cum on me.” He says softly, urging you, pressing your thighs up and hitting deeper, making your toes curl, your eyes roll back, as he moves quicker. “Please, let me feel you, my love. Please.”

My love.

You blink a bit, eyes focusing, as your hands pull on his hips, as you feel your body rising higher and higher, like when he pleasures you, but more intensely. “Kento, I think I’m-”

“I feel it, let go love, let go.” He whispers, and you do let go, shattering and cumming around him, and he groans loudly, stilling inside of you, as he watches your face, sighing, his eyes flitting back and forth. “Oh, you’re so beautiful.”

“Kento…” You blink away tears, and he kisses you once more.

“I’m close, darling, you’re too tight, too perfect. Can you cum once more?” He asks softly, and you nod, gasping out when he fucks you harder, tip dragging against that same spot, and you cum again, getting so wet, as he pulls out, huffing, stroking his cock now.

Soon stringy white ropes are spread on your belly, and you’re trembling, overwhelmed by what just occurred. You blanch when you notice blood, leaning up the bed and gasping, for Nanami to shake his head, running his free hand up and down your shoulder.

“Darling, it’s normal the first time. Are you all right?” He asks, so concerned, and your world closes in on you.

You’ll just hurt him more!

You just did this, you just lay with a man, who is not your husband, a man you were so sure would hate you, would never want you again. You can’t quite comprehend what even has happened. Nanami is cleaning you, holding you tightly to him, stroking your hair, and you want to sink into his embrace, but you’re so confused, so disoriented, you just take a few breaths.

“Did I hurt you? Please, speak to me.” His concern makes your tummy flip, makes you feel so sick almost as it sinks in.

“It hurt at first, but then it felt really good.” He exhales, squeezing your body tight against him.

“Oh I’m so relieved, I was so worried I hurt you.” You shake your head, and he tilts your chin up, looking down at you. “Darling, thank you for this, for trusting me with something so precious.”

You smile tremulously, as you run your hands through his hair. “Thank you for being so careful with me.”

“Was I? I worry I went too rough.”

“No, you always make me feel precious.” He kisses your cheeks, as you come down, as you collect yourself, and your reality sets in.

“I’m falling in love with you.” You gasp, mouth wide open, tilting your head back to stare incredulously, seeing his cheeks flush. “You need not say it back, I know you are conflicted, I know you’re so hurt from him still. But I needed you to know, I would have never taken your innocence if I did not feel that way, if I did not feel so much love in my heart.”

Your heart breaks, and you can’t stop the onslaught of fresh tears, fuck how many times have you cried today? As you realize his feelings are deeper than you knew, and you have feelings too but you’re so confused, so overwhelmed by Satoru Gojo, and his feverish effects. You cannot make heads to tails your feelings, you cannot put anything together properly.

“Darling it’s fine, I just had to let you know. How badly I wish I could hold you all night long.” You bury your face against him as he soothes you, as he rocks you, as you feel so different, as you’re sore, as your heart is being pulled into so many directions you think it will combust.

“I wish you could hold me all night.” You say, and he kisses you once more, swiping those tears. “I do not deserve you.”

“You deserve much more than you think. You deserve to be happy.”

Happy.

What was happy?

Was it being in Nanami’s arms, in these brief moments of reprieve? Was it baking cookies, was it his sweet kisses, was it feeling loved, was it hearing Nanami Kento is falling in love? Why then, do you feel so fucking sad, as you think of what Satoru will say, how he will feel. Why do you care, when he fucked how many women!? Why do you care!

Why is he in your goddamn head? As you’ve made love to another man, as Nanami took all your firsts, and as he’s whispering sweet encouragement in your ear, as he helps you dress. As Nanami is kissing you over and over, and your body is so sensitive, as you try to make any sense of anything.

“I have news of the annulment, fuck I got distracted.” You giggle a bit, softly, blushing, and Nanami grins. “There it is, a little laugh for me.”

“Oh, Kento…” You lean up, kissing his chin, as you both sway as if to dance alone in Nanami’s quiet, warm living room, imagining a world where this was your home, how would that feel? “You forgiving me, it makes no sense, but I am glad that you did. I would miss you so dearly.”

“And I would miss you. He has agreed to meet next week, will you be able to do so? Are you ready to try to leave?” You nod then, even as this sinking feeling pulls, you shove it far, far away. You and Satoru were toxic, you hated each other, you were horrible, you both cheated on each other, then hurt each other, and others.

It must end before it begins.

“I wish I could take you back to my room, hold you all night… I wish you didn’t have to go…”

“Nanami, this is what I meant, you’re hurt.”

“I am stronger than you seem to think. I told you, you’re worth any pain.”

“I don’t want you in pain.” You sigh, kissing him over and over, soft and sweet little pecks, and Nanami finally lets you go, brushing your hair back.

“The pleasure of being in your company, of being inside you-” Your breath catches, as he’s whispering in your ear. “Eclipses any pain.”

You sigh, snuggling against him. “Kento, you’re too good for this world.”

“Nonsense. Please be safe, please see me soon. I count the moments until our next meeting, before you even leave.” You both hold hands, and you smile shyly, as you step out into the evening air. “Are you fine to walk, it’s getting dark.”

“I am fine, it’s not far. Good night Kento.”

“Good night darling.” You feel his eyes on you as you walk away, as you are trembling, as the world crashes on you, as you realize you entangle an even larger web than before, as you realize it’s all going to end up with everyone hurt.

You still hate yourself, even if Nanami thinks he loves you.

You walk in the manor, and see Satoru there, at the dinner table, sipping on a drink, looking at you, at first hopeful, then analyzing, his eyes everywhere, and he stands, gripping the glass so hard it shatters into a million tiny pieces. You stand there, sullen and silent, not bragging like before, not in some delicious mood, no you hate yourself more and more.

Satoru walks to you, long strides with his tall legs, until he’s facing you, until his hessian boots touch your slippered feet, and he tilts your chin up, seeing the marks Nanami left, and he chuckles darkly. He grabs you by your hair, pulling tightly, forcing you to look him right in his broken blue eyes, you gulp as you do, as you feel so horrible you can’t take it.

And why.

Why?

He’d done this since the beginning!

Why!?

Why do you care.

Why…

“You fucked him, didn’t you!?” He demands, and all you can do is look down, as he cups your face, with emotions screwing up his beautiful face. “You fucked him, just say it, just say it.”

“I did.” You whisper, and he lets you go roughly, walking to the table, pulling everything off and it crashes to the floor. You tense as you watch him, as you feel yourself already tight in your throat again, you feel your body going numb as you watch him pace, hands in his snowy white hair.

“How could you!? How could you! I sent them home, I’ve waited all day for you, and you were letting another man take your virginity!?” You just sob, brokenly, into your hands, shocked your eyes have wetness left.

“We will… be not together… soon. Annulment. I’m getting one. What does it matter what I do?” You say, in a hoarse, weak voice, and Satoru scowls, grabbing you by your arms then.

“Why would you not give me a chance!”

“Why would you not give me a chance when we met! As soon as we met, you decided this all!” You shove him off you, and smack him then, only for him to smack you right back, shoving you against the table, bare of anything, his face full of rage as you both bear handprints on your faces.

“You stupid fucking girl. So stupid. I begged for you, I was pathetic for you, bloody hell I despise you. I hate you so fucking much.” He’s squeezing your face, and you just cry, eyes shutting.

“I deserve your hatred, as you deserve mine. We both are nothing to each other, nothing! Do you see!?”

“Oh, I see, crystal fucking clear. I’m not good enough, am I?”

Your eyes go wide. “What!? No, you’re just fucking cruel Gojo! You’re mean, you’re nasty, you think eating me out makes it all okay! No!”

“And what sort of whore fucks a man like that, huh?” You glare up at him.

“You, you’re the sort of whore, huh! Fucking mad it wasn’t you?”

“Fuck you. Fuck you.” He’s squeezing you so hard you think you really might break, as you both breathe each other’s air, as you grow light headed, as every inch of you ignites for a man that can’t be yours, a man that hates you. “You exist to destroy me, I knew it from the beginning.”

“You keep saying things like this, as if you did not wish for this, for us to do nothing, I am fulfilling your wishes!”

“All I wished was to know you, to touch you, to be near you, and all you do is crush me. Just like-” He stops then, and you look up at him, eyes fucking burning, as your own hands stop shoving him, just resting, feeling his heart pound against you at an insane rate.

“Just like who?” You ask softly, and he scoffs, leaning low, his lips hovering right over yours, and you hate how you still ache, even after everything, even knowing this was nothing, you want him, you want him.

Why do you?

Why?

Why did you do this?

Why!?

Why do you care?

Why…

“I’ll never open up again to you. Go be a little slut and open your legs for whoever you want, see if I ask to come near you.” You grit your teeth.

“Good! I don’t want you!”

“Good, I will never want you!

“Good!”

“Fuck you, Duchess.” He pulls your hair hard again, and kisses you deeply, overtaking you, bruising your lips, and you gasp, and let him, let his tongue ruin your mouth, let his teeth bite you. He bites your lips so hard you bleed, so you bite him back, and then he shoves you off, chest heaving, red beading his pink pouty mouth. “I hate you.”

“I hate you.” You whisper back, and you hate that it’s a lie, you hate that you care, you hate that his pain hurts you. “I chose someone who loves me.”

“Loves you!? Ha! You’re so stupid.”

“Why, because I think someone could? You just fear no one will ever love you, and I wonder why, maybe because you’re horrible!”

He kisses you again, and you cling to him, tasting the iron of your blood mixing, as you’re moaning, and fuck it feels good. Fuck it’s heady and insanity, and fuck you can’t explain it. It has to stop, it has to. “You’re horrible, a stupid whore. A cold hearted bitch.” He whispers, pulling so hard you think he’ll rip your hair out.

“You helped make me this way.” You bite him again, and he slaps you again, earning you just getting wetter as you smack the fuck out of him back with a loud clack in the air. And damned if you're not wetter than you had with Nanami inside you. Fuck Satoru. Fuck him.

“Hate you so much.” He’s squeezing your throat, and you whimper, earning his soft moan. “Hate you little whore.”

“I h-hate you, Satoru. I’m glad I did it. You get… a taste of… your own fucking medicine, huh?” You whisper, as he squeezes, as he grabs your ass, pressing you against his thigh, and you grind helplessly.

He groans, feeling your heat on his leg, feeling you soak his trousers. “Pathetic, nasty slut, can’t help yourself, can you?”

You suck in a breath, as he presses his thigh up, and you could cum from that. Fuck he’s right, you are, a pathetic slut for this heinous man. “You’re pathetic, man whore, fuck you.”

“I’ll go fuck this entire brothel.” He shoves you then, and you’re coughing, as he walks away, grabbing his coat, and you follow him, furious.

“Oh no surprises there, what do I care, Satoru! What do I even fucking care what you do! Soon you’ll never have to see me again.”

He stares at you, hurt blatant in his eyes, before steeling himself, and you see him, the cold Duke Gojo again.

“Good, I can’t fucking wait.”

Gojo’s POV

Satoru Gojo has two women sucking on his cock that night, as he sips his whiskey, as he thinks of you, of your gorgeous face, covered with his red handprint, as he thinks of leaving handprints all over your slutty body. As he thinks of fucking you better than your silly baker surely did, as he thinks of fucking you so good you scream for him, that you’re convulsing.

Stupid slutty brat, that he still wants, even as he watches the two women make out over his tip, swapping his precum between their mouths. As he pictures another man taking what was his, as he thinks of killing that man, tearing him apart, he sips more of his whiskey, burning a trail down his throat.

“You taste so yummy, your Grace!” One girl giggles, looking up at Satoru and licking her lower lip.

“You do indeed, your grace.” He hums, as they set his glass down, pulling them both to him, each on one thigh.

“Play with each other, would you? Wanna see you both kissing.” Satoru says, and they giggle and kiss, as Satoru runs a hand down their backs, and the liquor has run through him, and he’s just a little dizzy. As he shuts his eyes and pictures fucking your stupid whore mouth until you drool.

Fuck why can’t he stop thinking of you, after you crushed him!?

Why!

Why does he care?

Why!?

Why does Satoru still want you, when he said he never would in the first place, when he swore to himself he was done forever with any women.

Why…

Why do you hurt him so?

Why.

Satoru has two women on a gaudy red bed in a brothel, and he figures fuck it then, fingering one, when he kisses down the other’s stomach, and she gasps as he flicks a tongue over her folds. She’s whimpering, pulling at his hair, like you did, because what did it matter anymore? You weren’t special, you were nothing, you didn’t give a fuck about him.

You fucked someone, who knows maybe he came in you, maybe he’d get you pregnant, maybe you’d go live with him and have babies. Maybe you’d be happy, and if Satoru had love, the love you want, the love you think is real, he’d happily let you go. But Satoru hates you so much now, fuck he hates you, hates how you’ve made him feel things again, just to destroy him.

He’s lapping up this woman, who’s squirting her pleasure all on his face, as the other girl is screaming out, cumming around his fingers, and all he can think of is your taste, is your pretty face. It makes him that much harder, as he dives down on the other woman, while the woman he’d just had cum sinks to her knees, sucking his cock, and he fucks her throat.

When Satoru fucks into one of the women, he doesn’t know their names, he doesn’t care, not when he cried over you, not when you broke him, not when he’s watching the other woman lick her cunt. Not when they’re laying on top of each other, and he’s fucking one, then the other, not even then does he care to know their names, not even then can he forget you.

Satoru can never get over you, the one that was never his. And he wanted it this way, didn’t he? Now he’d never get you, what a fool he was to have thought so, not when you’re in the arms of another, not when you gave yourself away, not when he still would take you, still would die to have you

 The girl who brushed his hair back and tucked him in, who were you truly? You were right, Satoru did not know you, and you did not know him, all he knows is that he burns for you.

All he knows is that he can’t cum, not when he’s picturing you instead, not when he wishes he could feel your needy, slutty cunt with his cock. He can’t even be disgusted by you, you’re too goddamn gorgeous, he wants you too much, he’d take you anyway, he’d take you right after you fucked someone.

And he hates himself for it. Satoru hates himself, and he hates you. He hates that he feels something, he hates that he feels so much, he detests your pretty face, he can’t take your haunting looks. He hates that he understands what you did, that he can’t blame you even in his fury, because you did what he pushed you to do. You just reacted to him, and here he was.

He was a fool.

How could he think a couple right actions would save something that never even got started? How could these two pretty women not do hardly a thing, in any goddamn position, in any pressure on his cock, as he tries to fall into them, to hide the pain, the darkness, that sucks him in, the darkness of his feelings.

You are a black hole, you suck him in and leave nothing.

Your POV

Satoru Gojo is a black hole, he sucks you in, and leaves you with nothing, he scatters you into pieces, crashing to the earth with the weight of his gravity. Satoru Gojo hates you, and he’s fucking his whores, and you can’t stop thinking of him, of the pain in his eyes, in the words he said, so mysterious, in the way the man grabs you, looks at you, with anger, with lust with…

Not love.

It was not love, it could not be, no Nanami loves you, Nanami treats you so right, Nanami cares. Even after all you’ve done, he cares. And you should not feel bad for your actions, you should not feel bad for wanting to be loved, not when you’re with this black hole of a human being.

Then why does it hurt so bad?

Why?

Why do you picture him on top of you?

Why!?

You hate yourself, and you hate yourself so deeply, it’s like you’re unrecognizable, like there’s nothing of you left. Satoru Gojo saps the air from your lungs, he makes you burn for him against your own goddamn will, he makes you question yourself, he consumes you. With his stupid blue eyes, with his demeaning, nasty words that excite you.

Even as you touch your cheek, feeling the sting of his hand, still throbbing from his hits, your nipples tighten in response. You’d lost your virginity today, but you lost more than that, you’ve lost yourself, as you stare at the ceiling, alone in this empty goddamn room, in the cold house, and you rub your throat, as you struggle to catch a breath.

But how could you breathe with Satoru near?

Why did you wish he could take your breath away, why would you gladly give it to him, when he does not deserve it, why do you hate yourself more than you did this morning? Why do you see him, and his stupid pretty face, why does the biting kiss of his cruel lips do more to you than anything else? Why do the very thoughts of him have you panting in your bed.

Your heavy eyes shut, tired of crying, as you fall into a dreamless sleep, as you sink into the cold sheets of your bed, a bed that feels like a prison. In a home that doesn’t feel like a home, but feels like pure hell, hell that you just want to drown in, for a chance to see Satoru’s evil goddamn soul. For him to let you in.

Why are you like this?

Why…

ao3 chap : https://archiveofourown.org/works/58976983/chapters/152639695

A/N: Well... mmhmm. Hope you all um, enjoyed!? This traumatic ass insane chapter. Did you think they were going to make progress yet? Oh no, dear readers it's a toxic, enemies to lovers slow burn. I put alot of work into this so I hope it shows <3 I put these out very fast, but I do not enjoy the pushiness of some people demanding chapters out even quicker! I'm writing 10k plus chaps in less than a week lol. Please respectful when asking for updates.

Love you all SO MUCH. I can't wait to read your thoughts, I just love them :)

Until next time, dear Masochistic readers.

Part Eight

[pillowspace]

The Magnus Archives Fic Rec List

Press the read more for recommended fanfiction of The Magnus Archives! Never heard The Magnus Archives and are interested?

Current number of fics: 85

last updated March 18th, 2024

These are all works that I have personally read at least a couple thousand words of and enjoyed myself, so this list will reflect my own reading habits

If you are the author of a fic, you can request your work be removed from the list. Everyone should be comfortable

Table of Contents - 1. England Jonmartin-centric, 2. Scottish Safehouse Period, 3. Gen or Background Pairings, 4. Time Travel, 5. Highly Alternate, 6. Gerrymichael, 7. Other, 8. Updates (note: some categories tend to overlap. Only one will be prioritized)

England Jonmartin-Centric

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Full, Riotous Bloom by BigTed

Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist

“Statement of Martin Blackwood, regarding…” Jon looks at him. Looks at him. The look of a boss whose employee was late three times last week, the look of a man who was just busy doing something really important and now he’s here, doing this instead. “...why he stole a grieving family’s oven gloves.”

-

Martin has a run in with a deadly Leitner, leaving him choking on his unrequited love.

M | Words: 66,962 | Chapters: 13/13

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fell in your opinion when i fell in love with you by Athina_Blaine

No Archive Warnings Apply, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist

“This is the Magnus Institute, not a creative writing course at university. If that doesn’t agree with him, he can leave.” There was a thud and the sound of rifling tapes. “He can take his bloody tea with him.”

Martin’s fingers tightened on the saucer. Oh.

-

Martin knows better than to talk about it. It's fine. He's fine.

Part 1 of it's only when i hit the ground it causes all the grief

M | Words: 18,987 | Chapters: 2/2

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Just a Little Bit Pet-tea by arthureameslove

No Archive Warnings Apply, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist

Martin makes Jon tea for the first time about a week into his transfer. It’s horrible. Gag-reflex inducing. Somehow sporting all the wrong flavors.

For some reason, he does not have the heart to break this to Martin.

Little does Jon know that Martin actually makes wonderful tea. Just not for him.

G | Words: 13,335 | Chapters: 3/3

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Misshapes, Mistakes, Monsters by ZaliaChimera

No Archive Warnings Apply, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims

The Archives are his and stepping away from them, even for a night… it’s strange. Like he’s pretending to be someone else.

Like he’s pretending to be human.

Jon and Martin attend Jon's Oxford University Reunion.

T | Words: 7,969 | Chapters: 1/1

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Say You Love Me (Learn to Lie) by iamcringebutiamfree

No Archive Warnings Apply, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Martin Blackwood & Sasha James & Tim Stoker, Martin Blackwood & Sasha James & Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist & Tim Stoker

It shouldn’t have been surprising to learn that Martin hated him. He had been, he knew, a truly terrible boss - he’d treated Martin horribly, caused him to lose his home, nearly gotten him killed. Really, it had been ridiculous to ever think that Martin wouldn’t hate him.

Still, Jon had been trying, in his own way, to make it up to him. There wasn’t exactly a card at the drugstore that said, “I’m sorry I berated you for six months and caused you to nearly be eaten by a swarm of worms of potentially supernatural origin,” but he’d been trying. He brought Martin breakfast every morning, made sure the breakroom cabinets were stocked with his favorite blends of tea, and had tried to work some genuine praise into his feedback of Martin’s work. None of it was the direct apology that his conscience told him he really ought to give, but Martin had appreciated it. Or seemed to, anyway.

Jon wasn’t certain what motivated the decision he made next - whether it was guilt or spite or something else. He could, he knew, be quite petty when the situation called for it. Either way, he made up his mind then and there to prove Martin wrong. He was going to be the best fake boyfriend he could be.

A Fake Dating AU!

T | Words: 37,889 | Chapters: 10/10

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a consideration of tropes by gruhukens

No Archive Warnings Apply, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist

“Do you know much about cataloguing?” Jon asks, a little out of breath from the stairs.

Martin, mid-trolley, rolls his eyes. The gesture he makes at the shelves around him is only emphasised by the book he’s holding.

“What exactly do you think I do here, other than sit around and wait for angry patrons to yell at me?”

“Think of what you’re going to yell back?” Jon says, and Martin’s mouth twitches into a smile.

-

Asking the very important question: what if Jon and Martin had a gentle archives/library romance, and kept running into tropes? What if there was mutual pining involved? Only one bed? Fake dating? Hurt/comfort? Or perhaps, a soft and happy ending?

T | Words: 40,966 | Chapters: 8/8

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It Serenely Disdains to Destroy Us by trill_gutterbug

No Archive Warnings Apply, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims

Martin gnaws his lower lip. “Do you think he’ll - I mean, do you think it’ll be…”

Melanie's smile becomes a little less of a grimace. She claps his shoulder. “Martin. It’ll be fine. It’s only temporary. He’s not moving in.”

Martin chuckles. “Yes. Of course.”

-

Jon's flat is being fumigated. He is not impressed. Martin offers his spare bedroom.

T | Words: 13,048 | Chapters: 1/1

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terror management theory by prismatical

Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Melanie King & Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist & Tim Stoker, Basira Hussain & Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Georgie Barker/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist (briefly)

“It’s a preexisting condition,” Jon explains, sipping more bitter tea. “I sort of got—hm. You know Spiderman?”

Tim raises an eyebrow.

“Heard of him, yeah.”

Jon nods, studying his tea.

“It’s sort of like that,” he says. “A spider killed and ate me when I was a child, and now I can’t stay dead.”

-

Resurrection isn't all it's cracked up to be.

T | Words: 36,587 | Chapters: 1/1

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Clutching Daffodils by Gemi

Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims

Martin has always liked the idea of love at first sight.

It’s such a romantic idea, the whole thing of it. Seeing someone and instantly feeling that strange, twisting feeling deep inside that every single media likes to obsess over. Of knowing you are in love within the day, petals falling from your mouth and warmth filling your chest as love burrows deep, vines twisting through your lungs.

He always liked the idea of it.

And then Jonathan Sims starts working at the Magnus Institute.

NR | Words: 7,624 | Chapters: 1/1

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a little love, a little sympathy by Did

No Archive Warnings Apply, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist

And then Jon is snarling into his face, demanding what are you hiding with a strange, bright-eyed intensity Martin has never seen from him before, and Martin thinks god, maybe he should just come clean about his CV, Jon thinking he's a fraud can't be any worse than Jon thinking he's a murderer-

Martin opens his mouth to speak. To his absolute horror, what actually comes out is: "I used to pretend to cry because I liked how nice you were to me when you thought I was upset!"

G | Words: 3,308 | Chapters: 1/1

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all resistance wearing thin by DivineProjectZero

No Archive Warnings Apply, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims

Martin Blackwood would do anything for Jonathan Sims. The Web made him that way, after all.

T | Words: 4,799 | Chapters: 1/1

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Sam nie pojmuję, jak w twe zajdę progi by Mad_Maudlin

No Archive Warnings Apply, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims

Martin's been acting odd since Jon came back. Well, odder than usual.

T | Words: 3,118 | Chapters: 1/1

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Mundanity by CirrusGrey

No Archive Warnings Apply, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims

Inspired by @ themlet's post on Tumblr: Jon has to deal with normal human interactions. Martin helps (sort of). Featuring high school reunions, knitted sweaters, and conversations on the bus ride home.

T | Words: 3,097 | Chapters: 1/1

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Musical Mechanism by Darblesify

Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist

Martin has always used music to cope. One day he's playing music music out loud in the archive and Tim and Sasha realize the main singer's voice sounds familiar.

AKA Martin's favorite band might happen to be the one Jon was secretly a part of in college.

T | Words: 21,411 | Chapters: 8/8

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Misfiled and Misinformed by CirrusGrey

No Archive Warnings Apply, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Martin Blackwood & Sasha James & Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist & Tim Stoker

Jon and Martin are married. Tim and Sasha know this. What they don't know is that it's to each other.

T | Words: 2,507 | Chapters: 1/1

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look no further by inkyindigo

No Archive Warnings Apply, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims

Martin just wants to keep Jon safe. Sometimes the easiest way to do that is to bodily remove him from harm's way.

or, a collection of times Martin picks Jon up.

T | Words: 15,145 | Chapters: 8/8

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Touch Me, Even if it Hurts by AuralQueer

Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims, Jonathan Sims & Tim Stoker, Jonathan Sims & Alice "Daisy" Tonner

People don't really touch Jonathan Sims unless they want to hurt him. That's mostly fine. Jon has never been a tactile person, and he doesn't need anyone but himself.

Except the world is falling down around him, and loneliness aches, and sometimes he'll take anything - even cruelty - just to feel human again.

*A story set between s1 and s4, looking at Jon's relationship with touch, friendship, and his own humanity.

T | Words: 6,540 | Chapters: 1/1

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I'll bring the motion by callmearcturus

Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims

A long series of kidnappings and international flights leaves its own special mark on someone. Before the Unknowing, Jon is a mess.

Martin helps.

(based on this amazing art by linecrosser)

T | Words: 3,127 | Chapters: 1/1

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thanks for the company by lukeskqwalker

No Archive Warnings Apply, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims

Martin had been baffled by how easily he spilled his guts out to this odd stranger. Now, Martin is more baffled by the baggy My Chemical Romance t-shirt he's wearing, paired with tasteful plaid pajama bottoms.

Or, Martin gets a visitor in his dreams. Reliving the same 14 days of loneliness every night isn't as bad when you have company.

T | Words: 4,314 | Chapters: 1/1

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stranger, stranger by blueskiddoo

No Archive Warnings Apply, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims

“Sure,” Georgie says, still laughing at him. At least someone is having fun. “Don’t you have assistants for that kind of thing?”

“Yes, but…” He huffs, scratching the back of his neck. “I wasn’t going to ask one of them to download an app called...Lover? Lov-rrr? I don’t know how you say it.” He flaps his hands dismissively. “There are--unions and such. It wouldn’t be appropriate.”

*

jon makes a fake account on a dating app to investigate a statement. tim sets martin up with fake account on a dating app to boost his self-confidence. it goes exactly how you might expect.

G | Words: 36,771 | Chapters: 11/11

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i wanna find a home (i wanna share it with you) by heartshapedguy

No Archive Warnings Apply, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist

“Have you got anywhere to stay?” Jon asks him, briskly. “Friends, acquaintances, maybe, who you could stay with…?”

Martin flushes, deeply. “I, I mean— n-no, not really,” he stammers, and then goes even redder. “Or, just, y’know not that I’d want to, to. Put in the middle of this. Put in danger of, of worms.”

“Ah,” Jon says, “No, of course, that makes sense.” Why drag anyone else into this mess? Seven people died during Prentiss’s initial hospitalization; the collateral damage of roping someone from outside the Institute into her orbit doesn’t bare thinking about. “In that case…” Jon feels like there’s some alternative solution, one he’s just not thinking of at the moment, but it evades him, and Martin needs somewhere safe to stay. “My couch is quite comfortable. You’re welcome to come and stay with me until you figure something else out.”

Martin is held hostage by Jane Prentiss for two weeks, and can't go back to his flat. Jon offers him a place to stay until Prentiss and her worms can be dealt with, and they can be sure he's safe.

T | Words: 65,951 | Chapters: 19/19

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true kinda love by Did

No Archive Warnings Apply, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist

So. Martin isn't expecting anything to happen. But then, one day, something...does happen. It happens when Martin is passing Jon in the hall, and stops to ask how he’s doing, because Jon always looks a little bit like hell these days, and it makes Martin feel like he has to do something, and useless small talk is pretty much all he can do, so that’s what he does. And instead of grunting or shrugging or mumbling something dismissive, Jon replies, with perfect, involuntary clarity, "Every part of me aches, and I would just about kill to have someone rub my shoulders right now."

There's a positively deafening silence as they both come to grips with this unprecedented turn of events. Then they both start talking at once.

"Ah," says Jon.

"Wow," says Martin, at the same time.

G | Words: 5,053 | Chapters: 1/1

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hey stranger by ennuijpg

No Archive Warnings Apply, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Martin Blackwood & Sasha James & Tim Stoker

It’s a late night Tesco run, how eventful could it be? It’s not like Martin is going to run into his boss who’s wearing something absurdly different from usual and get the most acute form of whiplash possible from seeing him, right?

(Based on this post about alt jon on tumblr because it's all I've been thinking about of late.)

T | Words: 2,701 | Chapters: 1/1

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Sun-kissed by Rauchendes_GNU

No Archive Warnings Apply, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist & Alice "Daisy" Tonner

Martin doesn’t have any freckles. Jon has watched him and the others for a while now, and he knows that everyone has freckles. Tim is absolutely covered in them, and he seems to get more and more every day as Sasha seems very determined to kiss every part of Tim that is not yet covered in tiny dark spots.

Everyone has been loved by someone at some point. Everyone has been kissed, no matter if a platonic peck on the cheek or a heated kiss on the mouth. Everyone but Martin, it seems.

Or: Jon realises Martin has never been kissed. He rectifies that right away.

T | Words: 3,407 | Chapters: 1/1

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skin deep by isthepartyover

Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims, Georgie Barker & Jonathan Sims

“Hello, Martin Blackwood speaking.”

“Oh thank god-” a woman’s voice answered, rushed and panicked, and Martin immediately closes the folder he was leafing through absent-mindedly and snaps his head towards the door. “Sorry, oh god, I’m Georgie, I’m Jon’s friend, I don’t know what to do-”

(au where georgie calls martin post burn)

M | Words: 3,125 | Chapters: 1/1

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Take Care of You (And I'll Take Care of Me) by Mad_Maudlin

No Archive Warnings Apply, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims

When Martin Blackwood met the new research assistant, his heart skipped a beat. Too bad Jonathan Sims seems to hate him.

(A soulmates AU)

M | Words: 20,386 | Chapters: 6/6

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Somebody That I Used to Know by CirrusGrey

No Archive Warnings Apply, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims, Sasha James/Tim Stoker, Basira Hussain/Alice "Daisy" Tonner (background), Martin Blackwood & Sasha James & Jonathan Sims & Tim Stoker

(Minor) SPOILERS FOR MAG 161!!!

Jon gets replaced by the Not!Them. Life goes on.

T | Words: 6,358 | Chapters: 1/1

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a six-step process by bluejayblueskies

No Archive Warnings Apply, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist

Martin stands next to him on the train. His hand rests just beneath Jon’s where it grips one of the metal poles, and Martin takes care not to brush against him despite how crowded the car is. Jon considered telling Martin, when they first got on the tube, that it was okay—that his touch would be… well, it wouldn’t be bad. Not like Nikola's. But he’d stayed silent, allowing Martin to cultivate a careful space between them. They’ve been silent for the past twenty minutes as they’ve passed by station after station on their way to Martin’s flat in Brixton.

Jon adds 24 hours onto his mental countdown of the time he has left until he’s allowed to break down and tells himself that he can manage. It’s… important to have goals, he thinks. He splits this one into steps.

Step one: get to Martin’s flat without crying.

Part 2 of touch prompts

T | Words: 2,138 | Chapters: 1/1

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who's there? by bubonickitten

No Archive Warnings Apply, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist

Jon has a panic attack after Elias shows him exactly what happened behind the door after Mr. Spider took its victim.

Martin helps him calm down, and Jon tells him the story of his first Leitner.

Part 2 of thresholds

T | Words: 6,139 | Chapters: 1/1

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Clothes Have No Gender by kristsune

No Archive Warnings Apply, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims

Jon wears a skirt to the Institute for the first time, and gets reactions he hadn't expected.

NR | Words: 1,846 | Chapters: 1/1

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northwest 6 to gale 8. rain. poor, occasionally good. by chewsdaychillin

Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist

A voicemail made up of a female robot and Jon’s professional work tone tells him to leave a message, but Martin hangs up before the beep. He’s not even sure he can speak, let alone put this into words.

‘Hi Jon, sorry to call at four fifty-two AM. My mum just died and I don’t know what to do or how to feel. Call me back when you can! Love you, bye!’

AUish where Jon is alive when Martin's mum passes away, helps him grieve and heal (and they maybe admit to being in love)

Part 1 of northwest 6 to gale 8

M | Words: 35,828 | Chapters: 9/9

Scottish Safehouse Period

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Resigned, Though Not to Fate by inkfingers_mcgee

Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist

“You’re really suggesting this,” Martin says, voice pulled thin.

“Yes.” No hesitation.

“You would- actually do it?”

“I would.”

“With me.”

“Yes, Martin.”

“Why?” Because love is blind, says something cliché and cruel in the pit of his gut. Christ, he never was much of a poet, was he?

Or,

When Jon asks Martin to Quit the Archives with him, Martin says yes. Things don't go as planned. In the Scottish Highlands, they hurt, and they heal.

(Re-written as of 22-12-27; see chapter 9 for more info.)

T | Words: 145,748 | Chapters: 9/9

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nor any more youth or age than there is now by Ravenesta

No Archive Warnings Apply, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims

The local Primary school has a new teacher. He is, to say the very least, odd.

A series of statements regarding the interactions of the townsfolk with one Jonathan Sims, never formally given.

T | Words: 6,512 | Chapters: 1/1

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There's a 15th Fear, and it's Teenagers by captloverboy

No Archive Warnings Apply, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Georgie Barker/Melanie King, Georgie Barker & Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Melanie King & Jonathan Sims, Basira Hussain/Alice "Daisy" Tonner, Martin Blackwood & Basira Hussain, Basira Hussain & Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Helen | The Distortion & Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Helen | The Distortion & Basira Hussain, Helen | The Distortion & Martin Blackwood

What if Jonah didn't ruin everything? Didn't send the end of everything statement? What do Jon and Martin do now? Get a job, I guess. A teaching job, for Jon, though it was hardly his first pick. But sometimes your boyfriend looks *really* excited when he suggests it, and I mean, you know literally everything. It can't be that bad, right? Right?

T | Words: 26,140 | Chapters: 14/14

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the Teacher from the Magnus Archives by Athina_Blaine

No Archive Warnings Apply, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist

“Hey, everyone, welcome back to my channel. My name is Maggie Abernathy and today we will be continuing our investigation of the, uh, eldritch monster slash English teacher who calls itself Jonathan Sims.”

-

Maggie is determined to catch Mr. Sims via her channel, and then everyone would see how cool and smart she was, right?

T | Words: 5,993 | Chapters: 1/1

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Please Don't Tease Me Like You Did Before by bazemayonnaise

No Archive Warnings Apply, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims

Martin is grinning at his phone when Jon comes home. This is not an unusual occurrence, but Jon can sense that the particularly smug smile being levelled at him means that whatever is entertaining the man has something to do with Jon.

“Yes?” he asks once he has dumped the day at the door. “What have I done now?”

Part 1 of Jon and Martin teach at a Scottish Catholic School

G | Words: 5,380 | Chapters: 1/1

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beloved of jon by gruhukens

No Archive Warnings Apply, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims

“Oh,” says Jon, numbly. “You don’t. Remember? Um. It’s complicated. What… what do you remember?”

Martin seems to shrink in on himself a little. It hurts to watch, especially after how Jon’s seen him so painstakingly grow back into his openness over the past few weeks.

“I don’t know,” he says. “I don’t – I don’t.”

“But you remember me?” says Jon, and he tries to keep as much feeling out of that question as he can.

---

For no reason that Jon can tell, Martin forgets.

T | Words: 12,739 | Chapters: 1/1

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every good intention (is interpretation) by gruhukens

No Archive Warnings Apply, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims

They’re standing entirely too close to each other in front of the hotel desk when the clerk asks them whether they’d like a double, twin, or two singles, and Martin absolutely bottles it.

‘Uh,’ he says, at exactly the same time as Jon says, ‘Oh.’

———

There’s a conversation that Martin and Jon need to have after the Lonely. Unfortunately, they are - historically - fairly terrible at putting stuff into words.

G | Words: 11,227 | Chapters: 1/1

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These words that make a home in my chest by arthureameslove

No Archive Warnings Apply, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist

The moment Martin leaves the Lonely is the moment he realizes that it has taken something from him. He is left with the realization that the Lonely fog had been the only thing keeping him whole, keeping him from feeling the aching hollows of his own sorrow.

Speaking makes it worse, so he doesn't. He almost expects Jon to leave, to grow tired of him, incomplete as he is. But Jon doesn't.

Or, Martin is mute after leaving the Lonely, and he and Jon learn how to be people again, together, in the comfort of the Scottish Highlands.

T | Words: 16,060 | Chapters: 7/7

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hello my old heart by firebirdsuite

No Archive Warnings Apply, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims

Peter’s wrong, of course. When it’s all over, Martin does still want to tell Jon everything. It’s just—well, there’s a few things they need to work through first before they can get there.

Martin and Jon find each other again in Scotland.

T | Words: 15,864 | Chapters: 1/1

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i’m almost me again, you’re almost you by gruhukens

No Archive Warnings Apply, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims

After a second Jon steps in towards him, close enough that Martin flinches, but all Jon does is put two fingers under his chin with his free hand and raise it until Martin can’t duck away. Jon has never touched him so casually before – at least, not until today, and it raises a lot of thoughts and feelings that Martin is trying very hard not to process.

Much like a lot of other things that have happened, he thinks. Not that it’s horrible or terrifying or numbing like everything else has been: it’s just another thing on the list of things he doesn’t have the capacity to deal with.

---

In the wake of the Lonely, there's a lot that Martin doesn't really want to think about.

G | Words: 12,928 | Chapters: 1/1

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Prenons-nous la main by luftballons99

No Archive Warnings Apply, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims

They still haven't talked about it, any of it, not even to pass the time on the long train ride to Scotland. Instead, Martin fell asleep in the seat next to him, pressed into his side from shoulder to knee, and Jon thought about love confessions and verb tense and how the two fit together when you think you're dying.

or: Good cows, mediocre poetry, and other crucial topics of discussion.

T | Words: 6,027 | Chapters: 1/1

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Diary by luftballons99

No Archive Warnings Apply, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims

Not for the first time since they ran away together, a camera reel of all the things they don't know about one another whirs behind Martin's eyes, and he can't help but look at all the sprawling magnetic tape and wonder if they’re going to wind up a romance or a tragedy.

or: Office parties, garage bands, and the joy of being known.

Part 1 of showing your hand

T | Words: 5,178 | Chapters: 1/1

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the umbrella by Wildehack (tyleet)

Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims

"And to think—all of Jonah Magnus’ carefully laid plans, the centuries of scheming, the murders, the sacrifices, all of that work could have been completely undone if Martin Blackwood had gone back for an umbrella" - holdthosebees

M | Words: 4,662 | Chapters: 1/1

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ready to call this love by yewgrove

No Archive Warnings Apply, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims

How is Martin supposed to tell Jon that he panicked, stupidly, when the lovely old lady down the village asked him what they were doing in this part of the world? Got the shopping! Oh, by the way, we're married now! Whole village thinks we're on our honeymoon, hope you don't mind!

Part 1 of it is what you have.

G | Words: 5,650 | Chapters: 1/1

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Guess Who's Coming to Dinner? by pantsoflobster

No Archive Warnings Apply, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims

“Jon,” Martin said. “I have made a grave mistake.”

Jon whipped his head up, nearly tossing the elastic from his messy bun. “What? What’s wrong? What--what did you do?”

“I... might have invited guests for dinner.”

Jon stared blankly. “What, here?”

“Seeing as this is where we live at the moment, yes.”

---

In which a week in the safehouse turns into a fake-married sitcom, because they deserve to worry about social ineptitude instead of the apocalypse for a minute

Part 1 of this is not the house that pain built

T | Words: 5,391 | Chapters: 1/1

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Bergamot, Buckskin, and Lace by Qpenguin98

Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims

Jon's never been a touchy person.

T | Words: 3,061 | Chapters: 1/1

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be kind, i beg you by gauras

No Archive Warnings Apply, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims

“Fine,” Jon says, and he tries to ignore the sulky tone of his voice, “fine. What do you suggest?”

Martin pauses, like he’d not expected Jon to give in so easily. Jon’s never been particularly agreeable, but he still feels vaguely offended by the blatant surprise. “W-we,” Martin stammers, clears his throat, continues on much more confidently, “we go in together.”

Or: it takes close quarters and a full 24 hours to finally get them on the same page.

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T | Words: 14,946 | Chapters: 1/1

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tides turning by gauras

No Archive Warnings Apply, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist

There's more than one way to say I love you.

T | Words: 20,858 | Chapters: 1/1

Other Scottish Safehouse Period fics: see unassigned supplementals by bibliocratic in Other

Gen or Background Pairings

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a deeply annoying child by ajkal2

No Archive Warnings Apply, Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist & Tim Stoker, blink-and-you-miss-it Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims, BUT NO SLASH WHILE ANYONE IS A CHILD

Jon is hiding under the desk.

----

There's a child in the Archives, who shouldn't be there.

G | Words: 9,631 | Chapters: 1/1

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Head in the Lion's Mouth by renwhit

Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Danny Stoker & Tim Stoker, Danny Stoker & Jonathan Sims, Basira Hussain & Alice "Daisy" Tonner, Martin Blackwood & Tim Stoker, Martin Blackwood & Danny Stoker, Jonathan Sims & Tim Stoker, Past Tim Stoker/Sasha James, Danny Stoker & Helen Richardson, Danny Stoker & Alice "Daisy" Tonner, Danny Stoker & Melanie King, Basira Hussain & Tim Stoker, Basira Hussain & Danny Stoker

He fell into a deep bow, smiling the whole while. “I’m the ringmaster, of course.”

“Is that skin— Is it yours?” Old wood groaned as the Archivist shifted his weight. “Originally.”

“It is!” the ringmaster said as he swooped back upright. “Nikola decided I wore it well, so she let me keep it. Why do you ask?”

The Archivist gave him another once-over. “You just… you look familiar. Like someone I know.”

On relearning, reconnecting, and redefining.

Part 1 of Come What May

M | Words: 157,202 | Chapters: 17/17

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reach inside (to find your heart is beating) by ivelostmyspectacles

No Archive Warnings Apply, Jonathan Sims & Tim Stoker

This is Tim, opening the door enough for his tired, careworn face to peer through the crack; Jon sees the genuine horror on his face as he takes in his boss, bloody on his doorstep, and he thinks– maybe– he thinks he might be safe here.

“Christ.”

Chapter two added January 17th!

T | Words: 5,774 | Chapters: 2/2

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Fractals Upon Fractals by cedarbranch

No Archive Warnings Apply, Michael & Helen Richardson

“There was never meant to be two of us,” said Helen.

Or: Michael and Helen play a game of chess, and work out what it means exist in duplicate.

G | Words: 1,652 | Chapters: 1/1

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Other gen fics: see Time is Hard by Serazimei in Time Travel

Time Travel

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Yesterday is Here by CirrusGrey

No Archive Warnings Apply, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims, x2!, Martin Blackwood & Sasha James & Jonathan Sims & Tim Stoker, Minor or Background Relationship(s)

"Who the hell are you?" Jon could feel his hands shaking.

The man laughed, taking a step forward and raising a hand to point at him.

"I'm you, from the future!" he said, then swayed, eyes going unfocused, and collapsed to the floor in a dead faint.

--------

Post-season-four Jon and Martin time travel back to the season one Archives.

T | Words: 53,319 | Chapters: 12/12

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Déjà Vu by CirrusGrey

No Archive Warnings Apply, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Sasha James & Tim Stoker, Martin Blackwood & Sasha James & Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist & Tim Stoker

Sasha remembers being unmade.

Tim remembers being Unknown.

Jon and Martin remember being unwound.

All of them think they're the only one.

--------

The S1 crew wakes up in the past with memories up till the moment they died.

T | Words: 37,652 | Chapters: 4/4

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Reflection by LazuliQuetzal

No Archive Warnings Apply, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims, Sasha James/Emma

Jonathan Sims, researcher at the Magnus Institute, is seeing a ghost. Of himself.

Of course, it’s not really him, no matter what secrets it knows, or how many arguments it brings up. So if it tells him to do something?

Obviously, he’ll be doing the exact opposite.

(AKA: Jon is an idiot, past and future, but somewhere along the way it all cancels out.)

(Expect general spoilers for S4 and specifically, MAG 158.)

T | Words: 51,527 | Chapters: 10/10

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Time is Hard by Serazimei

No Archive Warnings Apply, Michael | The Distortion & Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Elias Bouchard & Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Michael Shelley & Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Gerard Keay & Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Michael "Mike" Crew & Michael Shelley

The Eye isn't happy with how the end of the world turned out. Neither are Jonah and Jon. There is no other option but to rewind time and go down a different path. But time is hard for The Spiral and The Web likes to meddle.

This is how Jon finds himself back in his eight year old body with all his memories, some of his powers intact and a strange bracelet around his right wrist. Saving the world, Jon realizes soon enough, is much harder when no one takes you seriously.

Part 1 of Diverging Times

M | Words: 170,443 | Chapters: 60/60

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The Cube Rule of Food Identification by bluejayblueskies

No Archive Warnings Apply, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist

Martin stands abruptly. His chair spins away from him, wheels squeaking on the cheap lino floor. The tension between him and Jon has reached never-before-seen levels. Tim could probably cut it with a knife. Or a particularly sharp spoon.

Then, Jon lurches forward and half-clambers atop the desk and kisses Martin, and Tim drops his sandwich.

.

Or, season one Jon and Martin receive memories from the future mid-argument, and Tim and Sasha receive emotional whiplash.

T | Words: 1,630 | Chapters: 1/1

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a map of what matters most by gruhukens

No Archive Warnings Apply, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist

“Is that a body,” Tim blurts before he can stop himself, rising to his feet. Martin looks, if possible, even more scared.

“He’s alive!” he hisses, almost defensively. “It’s not - it’s not Gertrude again, I didn’t kill him, he just – I don’t know what happened to him, I just found him in the stacks like this.”

“And you dragged him up here?” Tim says, and then registers several things at once – the build, the hair texture; the little round scars peppering a pair of thin hands and an awfully familiar face. “Wait, is that Jon?”

----

Jon stumbles back into an earlier Archive, looking for a way to fix the world. (Or, mom says it's my turn for the obligatory time travel au)

T | Words: 20,604 | Chapters: 6/6

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leaves too high to touch (roots too strong to fall) by OllieoftheBeholder

No Archive Warnings Apply, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist/Tim Stoker

“So...you’re from the future. In the past. Why?”

“You want the short answer or the long one?”

“Short,” Martin says after a moment’s deliberation. “Until I decide if I trust you.”

The other nods, as if he expected that answer—which, well, if he really is Martin from the future, he probably did. “To stop the world from ending.”

They have one last chance to fix this - one last chance to prevent the Eyepocalypse, to save the world - to save their world. It all hinges on which is the greater force: greed...or love.

Part 1 of leaves 'verse

T | Words: 299,536 | Chapters: 60/60

Highly Alternate

Alternate universes will remain in the other categories, but this category is for alterations that are especially notable in their severity. This will also include any fics where Jon has an important alignment with a different fear entity, whether that be instead of the Eye or in tandem

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The Witch's Cat by Champagne

No Archive Warnings Apply, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist

“That’s the Witch’s cat,” Tim says, and grins at Martin. “Jonathan Sims, the town’s Witch, said that he’ll marry anyone that manages to get the key from the cat’s collar.”

G | Words: 12,584 | Chapters: 1/1

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What Belongs to the Sea by TwoDrunkenCelestials, WhyNotFly

No Archive Warnings Apply, Elias Bouchard/Jonathan Sims, Elias Bouchard/Peter Lukas, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims

“My grandmother taught me about selkies,” said the tattooed man. “Said it’s good luck for them to grace your ship. To treat ‘em right, and they’ll guide you safe.”

It had seemed like a reasonable thing to believe.

M | Words: 126,367 | Chapters: 36/36

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school's out for the summer by kiaronna

No Archive Warnings Apply, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims, Georgie Barker/Melanie King, Various Background Relationships, Elias Bouchard/Peter Lukas

The thing is, Jonathan Sims is someone you’d call the police on if you saw him hanging around a school, those frazzled clothes and bags under his eyes, the frantic muttering and thousand-year stare.

Yet there he sits, headteacher of The Magnus Institute for Gifted Young Minds.

The name’s a bit misleading, it is. They’re in a bad part of town. The parents are either terrible or absent, and the kids—

“They’re monsters,” his new and handsome coworker grins, when Martin’s signature on his contract is barely dry. “Absolute monsters. Get too close and you’ll lose some fingers. Or maybe your mind.”

“They’re babies,” is all Martin can feebly manage, in reply, and Tim’s eyes narrow at the fondness in his voice.

“You’ll learn.”

T | Words: 26,088 | Chapters: 2/2

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See the Line where the Sky meets the Sea by The_Floating_World

No Archive Warnings Apply, Jonathan Sims & Simon Fairchild, Jonathan Sims & Michael "Mike" Crew, Jonathan Sims & Gerard Keay, Jonathan Sims/Martin Blackwood, Jonathan Sims/Oliver Banks

When Jon is a child he looks into the infinite abyss of space. The Vast looks back into him.

T | Words: 59,336 | Chapters: 7/7

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rituals by doomcountry

No Archive Warnings Apply, Martin Blackwood/The Archivist, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims

Martin is the first person to knock on the Archivist's door since it arrived, fully, into its little waiting temple. The Archivist saw him coming from down the hall, but decides to feign interest when the knob turns, and Martin—still a little bit smaller, a little more translucent than before—stands uncertainly just outside the room.

T | Words: 8,492 | Chapters: 1/1

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ships passing in the night by Zykaben

No Archive Warnings Apply, Martin Blackwood & Tim Stoker, Jonathan Sims & Tim Stoker, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims

Tim meets and befriends the new professor on the staff, Jonathan Sim. Tim has also been casual friends with Martin Blackwood for the past year.

It takes an embarrassing amount of time for Tim to realize that the two of them are married to each other.

T | Words: 5,027 | Chapters: 1/1

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all the flowers of all the tomorrows by ivelostmyspectacles

No Archive Warnings Apply, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims, Georgie Barker & Martin Blackwood & Jonathan Sims

Martin owns a flower shop.

He starts crushing on the guy from the Magnus Institute, but why does Jon keep needing so many flowers for workplace deaths, anyway??

T | Words: 13,745 | Chapters: 1/1

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The Good Ol' Days by SingingInTheRaiin

No Archive Warnings Apply, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims

When Jon moves in with his grandmother he becomes fast (if somewhat reluctant) friends with one of the neighborhood kids, a boy named Martin.

Years later, they find each other again at the Magnus Institute, and whatever mysteries they uncover there, they will solve them together.

T | Words: 107,489 | Chapters: 40/40

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How Particular, My Fondness of You by cedarbranch

No Archive Warnings Apply, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist

Jon risks a glance over to Georgie, expecting sympathy, or perhaps a grave expression of solidarity. Instead, he’s met with a fond smile. “Oh, Jon,” she says patiently, reaching over to rub his back. “You poor thing. You’re lovesick.”

Jon recoils. “I am not,” he says accusingly.

-

A college AU in which the whole gang works at the library, Jon is emotionally repressed, and the anonymous Facebook page knows all.

Part 2 of Magnolia Verse

T | Words: 29,263 | Chapters: 1/1

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because light reverses, because the dead return by 1248, Tiili97

No Archive Warnings Apply, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims

"Very well then, officer, take me away. And Martin?"

"Yes, Elias?"

Elias opened his mouth as if to say something, then closed it again with a shake of his head.

"Actually, never mind. I will see how it plays out."

Martin let out an annoyed sigh as Elias left. Always so goddamn cryptic.

Hopefully Jon and the others would be back soon to make sense of things.

-

Here's a hypothetical question: What would happen if no one noticed that Jonathan Sims survived the Unknowing?

What if they looked at his stopped heart and still lungs and decided he was dead?

What happens when you bury an Archivist?

T | Words: 9,491 | Chapters: 5/5

Gerrymichael

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Echo Chamber by orphan_account

Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Gerard Keay/Michael, Gerard Keay/Michael Shelley

“Look, if you’re another, uh, avatar of a horrible eldritch demon god come to assassinate me in a spooky manner, could you get it over with quickly? I haven’t eaten all morning and I’m starving.”

The thing that calls itself Michael stares.

“And this sandwich cost most of my weekly salary,” Gerry adds after a belated moment.

Part 1 of Spirals and Eyes

T | Words: 21,439 | Chapters: 1/1

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Break Me Like A Pattern by TheLibraryBat

Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Gerard Keay & Michael Shelley, Gerard Keay/Michael Shelley, Gerard Keay & Gertrude Robinson, Gertrude Robinson & Michael Shelley

The year is 2011. Michael Shelley is living his life in circles, blissfully unaware of the betrayal that awaits him in the summer. Gertrude Robinson has plans to enact and plans to destroy. Emma Harvey is hiding a book in the dark place at the back of a cupboard.

When Gerard Keay walks into the Magnus Institute - two years sooner than he was meant to - everything changes.

This is an (eventual) Archivist Michael AU, exploring how certain events might have played out, had one key player been in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Part 1 of Archivist Michael AU

M | Words: 215,290 | Chapters: 40/40

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Choke Chain by dramatispersonae

Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Gerard Keay/Michael, Gerard Keay/The Distortion

Things Gertrude Robinson possesses: decades of experience killing, containing, and otherwise thwarting supernatural beings, an uncompromising drive to destroy the Rituals and the people who would see them completed, Gerry's loyalty. Things Gertrude Robinson apparently also possesses: a monster on a magic leash.

NR | Words: 14,814 | Chapters: 1/1

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Make Me Feel Like I'm Lost by dramatispersonae

Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Gerard Keay/MichaelGerard Keay/The Distortion

Gerry meets a door that is not a door. And a person that is not a person. Remarkably, he does not get eaten. He would probably like to keep it that way. (Or, in the process of trying to avoid death by nightmare hallway, Gerard Keay accidentally charms the nightmare hallway)

Part 1 of As One Door Closes

NR | Words: 11,963 | Chapters: 1/1

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Fill The Gap Between You And I by dramatispersonae

No Archive Warnings Apply, Gerard Keay/Michael | The Distortion

Michael, like a cat, expresses affection with gifts of dead things. Gerry's trying not to be in the business of collecting strays.

Part 2 of As One Door Closes

NR | Words: 7,377 | Chapters: 1/1

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The Life Of Letting Go by dramatispersonae

No Archive Warnings Apply, Gerard Keay/Michael | The Distortion

Gerry suffers a workplace injury. Michael has concerns.

Part 3 of As One Door Closes

NR | Words: 3,235 | Chapters: 1/1

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Fever Dreaming by dramatispersonae

Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Gerard Keay/Michael | The Distortion

Gerry encounters a plot by a nascent avatar of the Corruption. It should be straightforward enough to deal with, especially considering his apparently ongoing... "alliance" with Michael. But when have things in his life actually been as simple as they appear?

Part 4 of As One Door Closes

NR | Words: 42,284 | Chapters: 5/5

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Please Don’t Eat the Flowers by Sloane

Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Gerard Keay/Michael Shelley, Gerard Keay/Michael | The Distortion, Razor/Wendy, Minor or Background Relationship(s)

Instead of retiring to open a book shop, Gerry ends up working at a flower shop run by American lesbians in London. This leads to a brush with the Distortion, who just wants to buy some lilies, the Magnus Institute finding out he’s still alive, and... well, a normal life was never really in the cards for the likes of Gerard Keay, was it?

Oh, and those lesbians who run the flower shop? There’s more to them than meets the eye—bad Beholding pun intended.

(No knowledge of Maniac Mansion required; I take lots of liberties to slot it into TMA’s universe. UNDER MAJOR REVISIONS. Please see last chapter if you’re a new/returning reader for details..)

M | Words: 77,314 | Chapters: 33/?

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Ode to Joy: or, michael distortion's guide to naming yourself by fromthepinnacletothepit

No Archive Warnings Apply, Gerard Keay/Michael, Gerard Keay/Michael Shelley

Michael Shelley is sacrificed to the Spiral before he has the chance to come out, even to himself. Now, as an avatar of the Spiral, his identity is even MORE painful and confusing. Alone and filled with pain he doesn't even know how to name, he searches for acceptance in the one person who ever really knew him-Gerry Keay.

***

“What do you want to be called then,” Gerry says and wraps his arms around Michael’s back.

This conversation hurts. This question hurts. Everything hurts, so long as no one knows about his gender, so long as he has to go on being someone he’s not, someone he just can’t be anymore. He doesn’t know how much longer he can stand it.

“I dunnooooo,” he says, grinning, but inside he knows his name isn’t Michael. It’s just not. He doesn’t have a name. He never has. And it’s absence is like a hole in his chest.

The creature that might as well be called Michael, it supposes, if you have to call it anything, thinks about this conversation while it sits on the ceiling of its hallway and slowly digs grooves into the plaster with its fingers.

Gerry, it thinks desperately. I have to find Gerry.

G | Words: 14,513 | Chapters: 1/1

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Save That Heart for Me by cedarbranch

Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Gerard Keay/Michael Shelley, Gerard Keay/Michael

Gerry has just filled up his mug with coffee when it hits him. It’s a faint but sharp pain, zinging through his left wrist. He exhales a puff of laughter. That’s the third time this week. Whoever his soulmate is, they’re having a rough time.

T | Words: 5,577 | Chapters: 1/1

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call me your harbor by insertcleveracejoke

No Archive Warnings Apply, Gerard Keay/Michael Shelley, Gerard Keay/Michael

There was the matter of the owner. It could not be said that most people, when asked about their mental picture of what the owner of a bookstore should look like, would answer angry-looking goth covered in burn scars from the neck down.

He also had a terrible dye job.

Or: five times Michael went to Gerry's domain for help, and one time the opposite happened.

Part 1 of the bookstore AU

NR | Words: 4,488 | tChapters: 1/1

Other

Fic types I have not read enough of to lend it its own category. If I read more fics of its type, it'll be moved to a new category

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unassigned supplementals by bibliocratic

Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims

Oneshot #54: home improvement: or: Jon and Martin vs. IKEA

Oneshot #55: united front: or: Martin helps Jon with his statement hunger . (Set 159/160)

Oneshot #56: evolution: or: There is an uneasy alliance at first, between Jon and the Archivist

(Short TMA JonMartin one-shots, individual warnings in chapter notes, now with a fully-functioning contents page)

G | Words: 73,687 | Chapters: 56/56

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onto a vast plain by yewgrove

Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims

The world ends. They get married.

Part 2 of it is what you have.

T | Words: 10,313 | Chapters: 1/1

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Out There, Somewhere by Artyphex

No Archive Warnings Apply, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist

"I'm sorry, you were found alone."

Jon survived the apocalypse and now will go to the end of this new, unfamiliar world to find Martin again.

T | Words: 54,080 | Chapters: 8/8

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enemy of my enemy by beeclaws

Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist/Tim Stoker, Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist & Tim Stoker

Jon comes back from his time with the Circus a little worse for wear. Tim has some feelings about that.

M | Words: 6,263 | Chapters: 4/4

Updates

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a map of what matters most by gruhukens added to Time Travel - Mar. 8, 2024

leaves too high to touch (roots too strong to fall) by OllieoftheBeholder added to Time Travel - Mar. 8, 2024

How Particular, My Fondness of You by cedarbranch added to Highly Alternate - Mar. 18, 2024

call me your harbor by insertcleveracejoke added to Gerrymichael - Mar. 18, 2024

tides turning by gauras added to Scottish Safehouse Period - Mar. 18, 2024

a six-step process by bluejayblueskies added to England Jonmartin-centric - Mar. 18, 2024

who's there? by bubonickitten added to England Jonmartin-centic - Mar. 18, 2024

because light reverses, because the dead return by 1248, Tiili97 added to Highly Alternate - Mar. 18, 2024

Clothes Have No Gender by kristsune added to England Jonmartin-centric - Mar. 18, 2024

northwest 6 to gale 8. rain. poor, occasionally good. by chewsdaychillin added to England Jonmartin-centric - Mar. 18, 2024

[smoooothoperator]

Beautiful Stranger

08: Shape Of Lies

Driver! Lando Norris x OC (Lily Barton)

Summer love, strangers to friends to lovers, Greece and Greek mythology references

Words: 2.1k

warnings: THE ANGST, social media au, third person pov, flashbacks are on italics

Masterlist

Official playlist

previous part

a/n: here is the angst!!! The part everyone wanted. What do you think will happen after this?

Every way of feedback is very welcomed

The domino effect is a chain reaction that occurs when one event sets off a series of similar, related, or connected events.

Is often used in reference to a catastrophic event or chain of interconnected events such as a natural disaster, series of accidents, or financial collapse. 

He started it by saying a wrong name. Then a wrong job. And because of the first lie, the snowball rolling down the hill started to grow bigger and bigger, making him lose control of it.

And now he has to face the consequences.

"Lily…" 

"Tell me what, Logan?" she frowned, feeling how her heart started to shatter. "Or whoever you are"

He swallowed thickly, feeling how his heartbeat was echoing on his ears. He didn't hear Carlos ending the call after a sigh, he couldn't even hear what he said. 

This it. This is the moment he feared the most. It came sooner than he thought. 

That's what happens when you are a coward.

"I- Lily…" he mumbled, feeling how his mouth was dry. Even if he swallowed he couldn't make anything to get rid of the dryness. "I can explain-"

"How dare you?" she asked, hurt. 

"I can explain!" he exclaimed, taking a step closer to her.

"Don't come closer!" she screamed, making Lando flinch. "Who the fuck are you?"

"I… my name is Lando" he said with a little voice. 

"Everything was a lie, right?" she asked, hurt.

It was suffocating her. Everything was perfect, she started to think about the future. A future with him.

In her mind she created the perfect story for them. Once he left for work, the two of them would be texting and calling, not forgetting to tell the other how their day went. She wanted to visit him by surprise, thinking that he would be happy to see her and introduce her to his family and friends. She wanted to go back to England just to be closer to him. She wanted to see him more often, having dates and sleeping in each other's houses. She wanted to be with him for such a long time that one of them had to suggest to move in together.

She wanted so many things. 

And those plans just exploded in front of her face like a window breaks during an expansive wave.

"Lily, please…" Lando begged, trying to grab her hands.

He needed to touch the person that calms him, the person that for once helps his mind to work at a normal speed.

But how can he do that? The person that calms him is at the same time the person he hurt. The person he has been lying to since they met. 

He's selfish. He deserves everything bad that will happen after this. And he knows it.

But it hurts so bad, and it scares him not knowing what will happen.

He deserves her hate.

"Don't touch me!" she screamed, closing her eyes and letting her body take control.

He didn't see that coming. He didn't see her hand moving towards his cheek. When he noticed it he was already looking to his side and with his skin burning after the slap.

"How dare you?!" she screamed, feeling her heart pounding against her chest. "I gave you everything! Everything! And you just lied to me all this fucking time!"

He never heard her curse in english. It was something he found cute about her. Maybe she cursed in Greek, but since he didn't understand a word of it, he never knew about it.

But now, hearing her curse, he felt worse. She is really angry.

"I didn't want you to know who I was…" he mumbled.

Wrong answer.

"And then you decided to tell me lies all the time?!" she exclaimed.

She couldn't believe it. She fell for a lie. She fell for a man that is not who he says he is. She let him come to her house, to her bed. She let him touch her. 

She let him use her.

"I told you who I was! I told you about my past, about my family and how they treated me!" she screamed. "I trusted you! And what did you do all this time? Not trust me and lie about yourself all the fucking time! How dare you do this to me?! How dare you play with me?!"

"I wanted to tell you" he said. 

There's no use to scream, to argue. He's not the one hurt here. He doesn't have any right to defend himself.

"When? Once you are gone?" she scoffed, letting her heart break more. "How mature" she said sarcastically.

How mature. She's right. Everyone is right. He's not mature. He's 23 years old and still acts like a kid. Maybe everyone was right, maybe Carlos was right. He needed to mature and act like the adult he is. 

"Lily, please… let me explain" he mumbled, taking another step closer to her.

"I don't want to hear it" she groaned. "Get out of my house"

"Don't do this, love…"

"Stop!" she exclaimed, grabbing his backpack and throwing it to him. "Don't you dare to call me like that ever again!"

"I-"

"Get out of my house!" she screamed, pushing him out of her bedroom, throwing his phone to him.

"Lily!"

"Leave!" She screamed, grabbing the first thing she found and threatening to throw it to him.

With his shoulders down and tears rolling down his cheeks, he nodded defeated. He grabbed his backpack from the floor and walked out of her apartment. He knows he has things in her apartment, he knows he left clothes because she liked to sleep on his shirts.

She has every right to be mad at him, to not look at him and to push him out of her house. He did everything to deserve to be treated that way.

When she heard him open the front door and close it behind him she ran towards it. She ran to close the door, locking it after leaning on it and falling to the floor slowly.

He lied to her. He lied about his name, about who he is. Maybe he lied and he doesn't love her. Everything he did was use her and laugh at her.

The moment Lando heard how she locked the door he knew everything ended. That he doesn't have a chance to talk and explain.

He deserves it.

He knows the meaning of her locking the door. He broke her trust. He broke her heart. He broke her.

Lando heard her cry when he went to his apartment. He heard things falling to the floor and breaking. He heard her anger and he couldn't be there to stop it.

He took a deep breath and looked at his phone. The screen is broken. It probably broke the moment it fell from his hand when she walked inside the room after hearing his call with Carlos.

This can't be happening. There's no way he, amongst everyone, did that.

She was in shock, standing in the middle of her messy living room. Cushions on the floor, the things he left on the coffee table on the floor. Every thing he touched was on the floor and she wanted to burn it.

Him, the person she loves and trusts, betrayed her. 

Maybe it was karma? Maybe she deserved it. She deserves it for being a bad daughter and a bad fiance. 

The dress was too tight. It wasn't letting her breathe.

"Mother I can't breathe" she mumbled, waving her hand in front of her face to create some type of air. "The dress is too tight"

"Tight? I barely started unbuttoning it" she said, making sure the material of the dress was fitting her. "You look absolutely beautiful"

"Mom, stop! I can't breathe!" she exclaimed, taking a step away from her mother.

"Eh, watch your tone!" the woman frowned, looking at her. "Adrian is waiting for you"

"I didn't choose that! I didn't choose to be married to a stranger! I didn't choose this stupid life!"

The older woman frowned, looking at the behavior of her daughter. There is no way she can let her act this way. There's no way she will let her daughter keep doing this.

"Stop talking, Liliane!" she screamed, slapping her cheek and not caring about the mark her hand will leave later.

The young woman gasped, looking at her side and feeling the tears threatening to fall. 

"Hear me, you little spoiled brat" her mother said, pointing at her with anger. "This will be the last time I tell you this. Your life would have been way better if you did everything we wanted you to do. You are the daughter of one of the most important men of England. You only had one thing to do and it was studying to work for your father and then having his place in the firm!"

"I never asked for this life!" she screamed. "I never asked to be your daughter, to have all the money we have, to be a Barton! I never wanted to get married to Adrian!"

"Shut up!" she screamed. "Get ready, the guests are waiting"

With that, her mother walked out of the room leaving her alone in front of the mirror.

That woman is not her. The reflection is not her. That woman, dressed in a white dress with a veil and expensive jewels, is not her. 

Liliane Barton is just a wax figure her parents molded the way they wanted, and with every mistake she made they added the double pressure to mold it better.

But Lily, the girl she always wanted to be, never wore jewels. She never wanted to look like her mother, even if she was the exact copy of her. She never wanted to have the same life she had.

"Fuck it" she groaned, grabbing the diamonds necklace and pulling it out of her neck, breaking it. "Fuck everything! Fuck everyone!"

She took off her dress, leaving it on the floor of the hotel room and kicked it away from her. She grabbed the veil and made a ball with it, throwing it to the bed.

She feels free, not wearing that tight dress anymore.

But she needs more freedom.

She looked around, finding the clothes she came into the hotel, clothes that have more of her essence than the ones she was going to wear later. 

Quickly, she got changed into that floral dress and into her flat sandals, throwing the high heels to the mirror, breaking it, and grabbed her bag.

If someone finds her in the corridor she's wasted. If someone finds her running away she's wasted. 

"Good" she nodded when she opened the room door, not finding anyone around.

She ran for her freedom. She ran with everything that was hers inside that bag. 

"Get out!" she said to the man that was inside the car that was going to take her to the chapel. 

"But… miss Barton" he frowned.

"I said get out!" 

The man sighed, leaving the keys for the car inside and getting out of the vehicle. He could see her shaking, the mark of a hand on her cheek and the make up messy. 

Lily drove to her apartment, to her small space of freedom. She parked the car and got out of it, opening the door of the apartment and rushing inside of it, searching for bags and things to take with her. Clothes, her personal identifications, her credit cards. Everything.

She called the bank to make sure her parents didn't take away her money. Money that wasn't hers but she knew that she would need.

If someone looked at her from the outside they would think she was crazy, with her makeup and messy hair, a big suitcase and a backpack next to her and a big smile on her lips while looking at the departure screen at the airport.

Greece. Greece is the place she belongs. Something deep inside of her tells her to go there, like soft voices encouraging to buy a ticket no matter how expensive it is. Melodic voices promised her that her destiny is to be there.

And she did that. She ran towards her freedom.

She ran away, leaving her past behind in a hotel room with clothes on the floor, a broken mirror and broken jewels.

Liliane Barton was a woman that didn't want to live in a lie, but fell in love with one.

taglist

@lestappenloverr @racinggirl @roni-midnights @livster8 @kakorrhaphiphobia @starkeyellow @celestialpierre @ophcelia @msliz @lorarri @ironmaiden1313 @imsorare @mycenterfold @im-an-overthinker @soosheee @karmabyfernando @landoyesrizz @sticksdoesart @beatricemiruna

[coquette2004]

Ok mutuals, here is what's probably going to be my introduction for my AU about James Francis Edward (I haven't got a title for it yet). I ended up just writing this for my Creative Writing class and I think it's okayish hopefully:

"By the grace of Almighty God, the Queen has delivered of a son."

He had been told this was his introduction to the world. His introduction to his birthright and his introduction to the people that would get rid of him and his family.

James Francis Edward knew by heart what happened next, which made his heart break. Soon after his birth, the signal was raised for the Prince of Orange to invade England and depose them. And as soon as that happened, the the people of England, the very people who were meant to rejoice for the newborn Prince had immediately said he was not real. Smuggled in. Through a warming pan of all things.

Maria Beatrice, his mother had been ordered to flee with him by the King. They were banished not long after to Italy, Maria's home country, settling in at the Monastery of Sant'Antonio in Polesine. They were here because they were not allowed to be seen as royal and anyways Maria had planned to become a nun before she was betrothed to the King of England.

The nuns at the Monastery of Sant'Antonio had immediately taken them in as their own, watching the little boy grow up with eagerness. Little Jamie had been raised with a strong faith in God, a well needed relationship. He was now kneeling at the crucifix, praying quietly, murmuring under his breath: "Holy Father, help me, help us all. Help me get my father's throne back, please. I hate what I have caused. Amen." Unable to hear what he was saying, in the background, Maria and two other nuns slipped away into another room. "Your child is so devout, Sister Maria. He prays all of the time."

"I know" came the reply. "Poor little thing. I will wait on him."

She watched her little boy pray for the time being, noting the resemblance between him and his late father - a victim of the axe. Jamie had his stately figure and was rapidly approaching his namesake in height with a big curly wig that definitely showed the resemblance when worn.

Finally, Jamie finished praying, startling as soon as he turned around to notice his mother sitting there, silently gazing at him but immediately recovered and lowered his head into a bow. "Mother" The name came out awkward and unsure of himself and he didn't like that at all. "Mother I haven't kept you waiting have I?" He was now beginning to panic.

How long had she been sitting there?

"Jamie, dear Jamie, don't be silly, of course you haven't kept me. You must always say your prayers daily." The boy immediately walked over to his mother who instantly took his hand into hers - but not after hugging him close to her chest and stroking his hair.

"You are becoming such a handsome young man, my darling" she whispered into his ear. There was a hint of melancholy in her voice and he knew what it was about.

His mother loved him very much, the poor thing. After numerous miscarriages or children not surviving infancy, she had no doubt been overjoyed to be delivered a son. Her husband, James II of England had no doubt been grateful for his heir to come at last. Yet the child didn't feel the same way at all.

I mean, what do you expect, when your very birth caused your family to lose everything?

@unanchored-ship, @defensivelee and @acrossthewavesoftime ask and you shall receive at long last.

[holysaintscathedral]

Books for the Hierophile #2

A continuation of the first list. Once again, all titles here are a variety of het, MLM, and WLW romance and erotica and may be purchased in most major in-person and online book sellers in either physical and/or digital form. Everything is listed in alphabetical order and a synopsis.

A Leap of Faith by Mel Gough - South Africa, 1953 – Father Daniel Blakemore is happy on his missionary secondment in a small, rural Providence Hospital on the Eastern Cape. Being away from England makes it easier for him to conceal his homosexuality – a secret that would destroy everything he’s ever worked for.But when Doctor Eddie Raleigh takes up his new position at Providence, the two men are instantly drawn to one another. Their liaison represents both Daniel’s deepest desire and his worst nightmare. If the archdeacon in London learns of his true nature, Daniel’s life in the church will be over.Broken-hearted, Daniel breaks things off with Eddie. And to get away from his sorrows, he leaves his beloved missionary work behind, and returns to Stepney, London.Will time and distance alleviate Daniel’s pain, or will happiness be forever elusive? Or will love, finally, find a way?An evocative tale of love, fear and duty, set against the backdrop of the nineteen fifties, with the emergence of apartheid in South Africa and the criminal nature of homosexuality in the UK.

Blow Me Father, For I Have Sinned (4 part series) by Dirty Mary - This collection of erotic shorts (1. Bad Habits, 2. The Good Wife, 3. Confession, and 4. The Bride) feature various women and their encounters with priests, nuns, and sin. Only available in eBook Format.

Broken Vows by MJ Williamz - Sister Mary Margaret has been a devout nun for twenty years and has never questioned her devotion to the calling. But when she develops a crush on one of her parishioners, Maryann Foster, the passion between them is irresistible and her vow of celibacy isn’t enough to keep them apart. But can she love both Maryann and the Church? She prays for an answer, only to question whether God has truly given her a sign or if she is just afraid to leave the only real home she has ever known. Mary Margaret must reconcile her divided heart or risk losing a love that just might be heaven sent.

Billionaire's Sins: A Forbidden Hot Priest Romance By L. Steele - Part of Big Bad Billionaires series. Father Edward Chase. Brooding. Growly. And... unavailable. He's the hot priest. I am a belly dancer. He's haunted by his past. I am trying to carve out a future for my studio. He’s at war with himself, and I am the casualty. There is nothing he will put before his calling. No stone he will leave unturned for his flock. He’ll never give in to the attraction between us, So what if he stars in all my dreams? He may be a man of God. But for me, he is temptation personified. Making him fall for me is all I ever wanted. Until he reveals his secret.

Cardinal Sins: Seducing the Priest by Liz Steel - “I was never the church going, confessing type—until the hottest priest in a ten state radius showed up. I have to have him. I just need to get him out of his priestly robe…and into his pants. I knew he isn't exactly a saint. But can I pull it off? Will he commit cardinal sins with me? I have to find out. And I'm going to.”

Confessions: Justin’s Penance, Lust and Ecstasy by Luke Jameson - "It can't be wrong if he's a priest." Now, in one complete volume, is the love story between a priest struggling with his beliefs, and his student who goes to great lengths to justify his growing attraction for another man. Justin's Penance tells the story of how Mateo and Justin first meet, and how their explosive attraction forces them apart. In Justin's Lust, our lovers reunite at a monastery in the mountains of Virginia. Both men have taken vows to the church, but as you'll discover, promises are often broken. After an illicit encounter, Justin flees the monastery, praying to a God who isn't listening. In Justin's Ecstasy, Mateo is devastated, and goes to a strange city in search of the man who claimed his heart. Will Justin return Mateo's feelings, or will his promises to the church keep true love apart? ​​Two men are destined to be together, and the only things holding them apart are the vows they have made to the church. Will love win, or will their beliefs be their undoing?

Cardinal Sinner (Divine Domination Book 2) by Megan Michaels - Eliska Petrova grew up as a good Catholic girl in Prague, attending Catholic school, even obtaining a job in the Vatican City working for the Cardinals in the Apostolic Palace. She couldn’t imagine anything better than her job in Rome. That is, until she met the tall, dark, and handsome Cardinal Petr. The problem wasn’t that he was her boss and mentor. The problem was that she was helpless to resist her desire for him. Realizing her deep-seated, dark fantasies of pain and pleasure, power and submission/surrender with a prominent Cardinal seemed like a recipe for disaster. But that hadn’t stopped her from diving in anyway. Her temper got her into trouble with the Petr – often – and he had very creative ways of tamping down her fiery ways, the least of which was an old fashioned, bare bottom spanking. Petr Novak had studied underground in oppressive, Communist ruled Prague, even completing and receiving his doctorate in secret. The Pope ordained him as a Bishop in St. Vitus Cathedral once the Iron Curtain had crumbled, and he’d begun working his way up the ranks of the Roman Catholic Church, becoming a Cardinal in Rome. He’d never planned on falling in love with the young flaxen-haired Czech beauty. Her fire called to him though, and he couldn’t deny himself – even if that very fire threatened to consume them both. How could she commit to a man who had his eye on becoming Pope? Would she be enough – or too much? Could they find happiness with each other and the Church? 

E Pluribus Unum Book 1 - Lesbian Lust By Rowan Buchanan-Brown - 1621....Sister Benedetta is very sick. She has become plagued with demonic hallucinations; all telling her she will rot in Hell. As ministers from the government arrive at her convent to investigate; they uncover a secret relationship she has been having with a fellow Sister....2006....Marcia and Naomi are two lovers who stumble upon a dark cult when on holiday in the Amazon Rainforest. Though they escape to civilisation again, they bring back an ancient evil with them, the same evil which plagued Sister Benedetta and which threatens to turn all the women on Earth to its own wicked ways....

Emily and the Priest by Selena Kit - Her first year away from home has been a disaster for shy, awkward Emily, falling in with the wrong crowd, just trying to fit in with the other girls. When Mark, the campus psychologist, takes her under his wing, she's more than grateful, and under his tutelage, Emily blossoms into ripe, luscious fruit, just ready to be plucked. By the time Mark realizes his mistake, it's too late--Emily has fallen for him, and he for her. God help them both. Available only in Kindle and eBook Editions. Part of the Power Play series.

For I Have Sinned: A James Bay Novel by Kathleen Irene Paterka - Cursed or Blessed? A Man of God Must Make a Choice...Father Greg, a Catholic priest and recovering alcoholic, took a vow of obedience at his ordination-but thirty years later, that Roman collar chafes his neck. His love for God is not in doubt, but the same can't be said for his faith in the church. After a young interracial couple joins his parish in the small exclusive resort community of James Bay, Michigan, Father Greg finds himself waging a fierce battle fighting parishioners' prejudices. When an attractive widow from the parish joins hands with him to befriend the young couple, the problems only escalate-and so do the rumors about a romance. Caught up in a war with church leaders and his own guilty conscience, Father Greg is trapped. He's good at standing up for others, but now he needs to learn how to stand up for himself. It's the only way he'll become the man he was always meant to be-with or without the Roman collar. Part of James Bay series but can be read independently.

For I Have Sinned by Alex Grayson - “Twelve years ago, I vowed to stay celibate when I gave my life to the church. For twelve years, I've kept that vow, and not once have I been tempted to veer away from it. Until she walked into my life. Jersey, the homeless girl who sneaks into my church to steal food. From the moment I first saw her, something about her called to me. She was sent to tempt me down a sinful path, and I have no hope of denying her. Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned.” A Part of the Itty Bitty Delights series but can be read independently.

For I Have Sinned by Dakota Rebel - “I’ve never been much for church or religion or faith of any kind really. So I never expected to become friends with a priest. And I certainly didn’t expect to fall for one. I spent most of my life pretending that I was a good son, a good brother, a good man, in an attempt to earn my parents’ approval. And now I’m just tired of pretending. Because the closer Father Luke Stone and I get to one another, the harder it becomes to deny the attraction between us. I’m not sure if he’s fighting it, too, or if he honestly doesn’t feel it. He says he wants to save my soul. But I can’t help wondering. Am I even worth saving?” Available only in Kindle Edition.

Fuck Me Father, For I Have Sinned by Naomi Ace - Warning: This 3500 word shorty story is for adults only and features delicious and vivid interactions between three consenting priests. Available in only in eBook format.

Fall Into Temptation: A Forbidden Romance Between a Naive Catholic Girl and a Transitional Deacon by Katy Fox - She’s a naive catholic girl. He's a transitional deacon. Will they succumb to the wild flames of passion? Christie Hart is raised by strict catholic parents who never let her have her freedom. But when she finally goes to Britain to attend her aunt’s wedding, she falls hopelessly in love with Vincent Knight. Fantasizing over a hot downright sexy transitional deacon? Terrible idea. But Christie can't help it. There are many rules a transitional deacon can't break. A transitional deacon cannot marry. A transitional deacon cannot abandon his flock. Vincent has always been good at following rules until Christie shows up and turns his world upside down. Can they overcome the temptation or will they fall deep into it? Find out how this totally unputdownable forbidden steamy romance ends.

For Love of God by Robin Reardon - It’s Manhattan, 1983. The Rocky Horror Picture Show is going strong at the 8th Street Playhouse. HIV/AIDS is still called “the gay plague.” The Twin Towers still stand tall. And Spencer Hill is convinced God has called him to the Episcopal priesthood. There’s just one problem. He’s gay. Determined to stay the course, Spencer avoids Donald Rainey, a young actor he’s attracted to. Then he tries dating a woman, another candidate at General Theological Seminary. Then, as a last resort, he considers a life of chastity. His attempts to deny his orientation fail, and he has a crisis of faith that nearly sends him over the edge. He’s saved by an insightful therapist and by his relationship with Donald, which he can no longer avoid. Then his life is in disarray again when Donald’s life takes a religious turn Spencer cannot accept, and he must find a path where there is no conflict between God and gay.

Grace but No Mercy by Lynn Cooper - “My name is Father Troy Hampton. From the time I was old enough to talk, my words came out as prayers. My life belongs to the church. It’s true that I’m nothing more than a mortal man made up of all the same parts as other men. However, through my devotion and unwavering commitment to Christ, I have been able to resist that which is carnal. I never succumb to the natural, sometimes overpowering yearnings and desires that rampantly pulse through the veins of all mankind. Daily, I rebuke all that is unholy. I cling to my vestments, resisting all fleshly pleasures. Forsaking all others for Him. Until her.”

Heathens (Heathens Series Book 1) by Amanda Richardson - Lily Damewood is trying (and failing) to claw her way out of her dark memories. Her weekly visit to Notre Dame Cathedral in Paris is supposed to be a way to help her move forward, even though she’s far from the praying type. She catches the eye of Salem Tempest, a seminary student at Notre Dame. When an unlikely friendship forms between them—followed by a white hot attraction they desperately try to ignore—a revelation shakes them both to their core. Lily and Salem soon find themselves connected in powerful and unexpected ways. Turns out, Lily isn’t the only heathen, and Salem is just the right person to stoke the fire within her, despite his sacred vow of celibacy.

Her Priest (Divine Domination Book 1) by Megan Michaels - Divorced and working in Amsterdam as a reporter, Chelsea never dreamed that opening a simple social media account could bring the love of her life back to her. Especially when she still isn’t convinced she was his first love. Despite being his devoted submissive—in all things—she’d let him slip through her fingers—and paid the price of ten years of yearning for him. But could an independent, strong-minded woman be just as accepting of his dominance now? A dream one quiet night in college had shown Emerson his true calling. And that calling meant leaving his girlfriend, his lover. His soul mate. But now he’d found Chelsea again, that calling seemed a world away, his need and his lust for her as overpowering as the first day he’d laid eyes on her. He has to have her kneeling at his feet once more. Even if that means leaving the priesthood. His decade long sojourn has changed him in ways he’d never expected. And now he has his Chelsea under his dominion once more, she is going to find he is even more demanding than he was as a young man. Ten years in a position of power have left him with a taste for commanding obedience. And he intends to exercise that power on his yielding, submissive soul mate. She’s won him back, but is she ready for the new Emerson? Is she ready for his particular brand of religion-tinged, taboo kink?

Lead Me Not: A Gay Christian Romance by Ann Gallagher - Isaac Morris has devoted his life to preaching against the sin of homosexuality. But when his sister proposes a documentary to demonstrate once and for all that it’s a choice—with Isaac choosing to be gay as proof—he balks. Until he learns his nephew is headed down that perverted path. Isaac will do anything to convince the teenager he can choose to be straight…including his sister’s film. When Isaac’s first foray into the gay lifestyle ends with a homophobic beating, he’s saved and cared for by Colton Roberts, a gentle, compassionate bartender with a cross around his neck. Colton challenges every one of Isaac’s deeply held beliefs about gay men. He was kicked out by homophobic parents, saved from the streets by a kind pastor, and is now a devout Christian. Colton’s sexuality has cost him dearly, but it also brought him to God. As the two grow closer, everything Isaac knows about homosexuality, his faith, and himself is called into question. And if he’s been wrong all along, what does that mean for his ministry, his soul, his struggling nephew—and the man he never meant to love? 

The Lake Michigan Affair by JacquelIine Thomas - Rosalie fell into her life, a life she didn’t want. She met Richard, her brilliant surgeon husband, and fellow Catholic as a teenager. One night in the back of Richard’s car, her fate was sealed, to be Mrs. Richard Russo. Her strong Catholic family, where faith dictates all actions, left Rosalie no other choice but to marry Richard, a man who she did not love. Rosalie’s life looked perfect from the outside, the brilliant surgeon husband, a tight-knit Catholic community in Chicago, and friends. One evening in the halls of the Field Museum, she meets the man who will change her life forever, Catholic Bishop Sebastian Cole. The Lake Michigan Affair is a story of a woman finding true love, learning who she is, attempting to flee an abusive marriage, and ultimately risking it all to be with the man she loves. Set in a tight-knit, Italian-American neighborhood on Chicago’s Northside, tradition, religion, and culture collide. The Lake Michigan Affair looks at love, not what it is supposed to be, but how raw and powerful it can be and the force it has on the lives of Rosalie’s community.

My Priest, My Husband by Deede Kress- Last night Alaina agreed when Fr. Ryan said they were an exception to the law of celibacy. But this morning she admitted she was a mere woman involved in a forbidden love affair but Ryan was no mere lover. Unwilling to give him up, how could she compete against God?

The Priest's Virgin Sinner: A Taboo Erotic Short (Her Forbidden Men Book 2) By J. C. Hardin - “I never used to be this person. I never used to have these shameful desires. I was an innocent 19-year-old who went to college while living at home with my family. I went to church every Sunday like you're supposed to. I kept myself away from boys and tried to be a good girl. I never used to be this type of person. However, things changed. Dark desires grew within me. I thirsted hard for my family's priest. It wasn't supposed to happen. But it has. Now, the only thing I want is for this holy man to show me just how unholy this world could be.” Available only in Kindle and eBook Editions.

The Priest and the Prodigal by S. Adam - Only available in Kindle Edition, The Priest and the Prodigal: A Story of Taboo Love" suggests a narrative that revolves around a forbidden romantic relationship between a priest and a prodigal. The title immediately sets up a power dynamic between the two characters, with the priest being in a position of authority and the prodigal being a rebellious figure. The use of the term "taboo" implies that their love is considered socially unacceptable or morally wrong, adding an element of danger and risk to their relationship. The title also suggests a story of redemption, as the prodigal character may be seeking forgiveness and guidance from the priest. Overall, the title suggests a dramatic story of love, morality, and the consequences of going against societal norms and religious teachings.

Pleasing the Pastor by Daisy Jane - “The Pastor looks enormous behind that podium. Almost Godly. He looks at me like I'm unexplored territory and his life's dream is exploration. When I look at him, I’m mesmerized. But you can't fall for your Pastor ten years your senior... can you?”

The Priest and the Princess by Kathryn Kaufmann - She prayed to find Mr. Right… but this has to be wrong.Is asking for a commitment-minded man too much? Laura Daniels didn’t think so, but after wasting too many years on too many losers she’s giving up hope. That is until a chance encounter with a childhood friend sparks some new feelings. He’s exactly the kind of man she wants: sweet, funny, handsome… Except Heaven help her, he’s a priest—the new interim priest at her church. Worse, despite his vow, he has feelings for her and struggles with the pain-staking guilt of believing she could be his one true love, while Laura’s heart is torn between her lifelong love for God and her newfound love for Father Carl. It will take nothing short of a miracle to find a happy ending.

Priest: An Instalove Possessive Alpha Romance By Flora Ferrari - Stand alone novel in A Man Who Knows What He Wants series, available only in Kindle and eBook Editions. “Coming out of the jungle after almost twenty years, I’m not grappling with my faith as I reconsider my future in the priesthood, it's a different sort of calling. Something I don’t even know yet, until I meet her. I’m not grappling with my faith, but I’m sure as hell gonna be grappling with my Grace. In the horizontal position, if I’ve got anything to do with it.  Her dad Carl is my best friend, we grew up together and he’s saved my ass so many times it hurts to think I’m breaking his heart by loving his daughter, but that fresh calling I got? The one that drew me from the jungle, it all makes sense as soon as I see her, and I know, right there and then that she’s my woman and I have to make a family of my own with her. Starting right now.”

The Priest by Erin Pim - When a good-hearted young woman becomes stressed at her workplace, she ends up doing things she regrets. Unhappy with her immoral actions, she decides to visit the one person she knows can set her back on the right path: a male dominatrix known only as ‘The Priest’. This mysterious character advertises an ability to purge women of their sins - exactly what our woman needs. Available in Kindle Edition.

Priest: True Love by Pamela White - Father Daniel is unlike any man Kelly Hall has ever met; while she struggles to adjust to her federal detention at Carlyle. But even within the mysteries surrounding events leading to her sentence, and her wayward boyfriend still living at home, a growing affinity for the priest of Carlyle church mass cannot be avoided forever. Father Daniel, who has been the priest over Carlyle church mass for two years, is stricken with an attraction for Kelly Hall. When the beautiful young woman begins working for him in the chapel, Father Daniel feels drawn to her and despite his protest, is weakening in withholding himself from the attraction between them.

Playing With Her Priests by S. E. Law - When Pastors Jordan and Jason stepped up to the pulpit, the breath caught in my throat. These were the new pastors at the Village Church? The men had perfect lips, tattoos swirling up their forearms, and cocky, knowing smiles that made my heart race. In fact, all the female congregants let out a collective sigh when Pastors Jason and Jordan got up to preach. But Jason and Jordan are no average men of the cloth. The two handsome priests are godliness personified, yet with a taste for sin. Book 3 of the Playing With Them series, available only in Kindle and eBook Editions.

The Priest’s Lover: A Romance by Maria Avery - On the surface, 19 year old Jessica is demure, shy, and retiring - the very image of what a good Catholic girl should be. But the holier-than-thou teen has been in love with Father Damon for as long as she can remember, and she's convinced that if she can light the fire of passion within him, his desire will turn him away from his holy devotion and towards her. As his lust turns blossoms into love, it the relationship is threatened by Jessica's jealous best friend who uses blackmail to get what she wants. Available in Kindle Edition.

Priest’s Curves: Curvy Girl Romance by Kelsie Calloway - “Ten years ago, my best friend and high school sweetheart left me to become a priest. He says he came back to town to change lives, but I know it's because of me. I'll bring this priest to his knees. Sorry, daddy, I've been bad.Or whatever it is you say in the confessional.” Book 11 in the Curvy Girl of the Month Club series but can be read independently. Only available in Kindle Edition.

Rebel Priest by Adrianne Leigh - A priest is expected to protect his flock, observe a strict vow of celibacy, and honor his vow to God. “I've always been good at obeying the rules. And then she came.With her, I'm eager to desecrate every sacrament. One filthy taste of pleasure and pain--one stolen touch of heavenly blasphemy--a lifetime of sacred torment.Forbidden love is more dangerous and more intoxicating than any other kind, and the sweeter the sin, the greater the catastrophe.By the edicts of my church, I am no longer in a state of grace. Forgive me Father, for I have sinned. I am a priest and she is my obsession. This is my unholy confession.”

Sexpulsion by Jorge Smith - Having been visited by awakened ghosts throughout the night, a troubled single lady feels she must seek the assistance of a local priest. She complies to cruel and sexual rituals after hearing his perverted directions, in order to restore her tranquility.

The Sinful Priest: MM First Time Straight to Gay Age Gap by M. M. Cummings - James couldn’t let the image of last night go. Ambrose was among the pews doing everything but pray with that man. And now Ambrose was ready to confess his sins. But James isn’t prepared for the truth or the sinful words coating the young man’s tongue. Each one unlocks hidden, forbidden desires inside James. Wicked desires to be with someone. Worse, to be with a man. To be with Ambrose and make him scream. Desperation floods the air. Suddenly, the priest’s collar is suffocating. The confession box, too small. Slight flecks of pleasure peak from the lattice barrier with devilish movements. James is losing it and there is nothing he can do to calm his throbbing need. He wants Ambrose. He needs him. And maybe a fall from grace could land him in a world of happiness and bliss. Only available in Kindle and eBook Editions.

Say Your Prayers by Crystal Ash and Cathryn Moon - Hell has taken over. And Earth’s last sanctuary doesn’t stand a chance. A young woman with horns was the last person Father Stavros expected to see approaching his gate, begging for sanctuary. As a man of God, he learned to never turn away someone in need, especially after Hell’s Rising. But the sinful cravings that follow him and his fellow priests are a whole new obstacle. The horned woman is a succubus--aligned with the very evil they are the last stronghold against.Which begs the question, why would a succubus seek refuge in a church?Spat up from Hell, Deyva’s arrival has made the three priests of Bethel question everything from their faith, their integrity, and the very enemy they face. She may not actually be a monster, but a person truly in need of protection, in need of love, and that rattles the Fathers to their very foundations. When Hell’s Kingdom sends the least likely adversary to Bethel’s gate to retrieve the wayward succubus, the priests are faced with a choice. Throw Deyva back to the pit that spat her out, and take a final stance against Hell with everything they’ve got. Or protect her, give in to their feelings, and risk losing the last grip on their faith.

Sweetest Sin by Sosie Frost - “The priest responsible for my salvation is the man leading me into temptation. Or maybe I’m the one corrupting him? Father Raphael St. Lucian shares my desire, but even he can’t fight our twisted thoughts and fantasies. He promises that we will be saved if we confront our lust and resist this dangerous attraction. But an innocent kiss becomes a forbidden touch, and midnight secrets destroy us in beautiful blasphemy. What happens when our faith is tested and my most honest confession threatens to break his sacred vow? How long can we deny the sweetest sin?”

Stepbrother Priest: A Taboo Love Story by Riley Jones - “I didn't care if it was a sin, I had to have him. None of it should have happened the way it did. I wasn't supposed to fall in love with Jonah. Everything about it was wrong. Not only was he my stepbrother, he was also a celibate priest. I had no right to convince him to break his celibacy, but I couldn't help myself. Jonah was sweet and muscular, the perfect man for a girl like me. So what if the church forbade our relationship? The heart wants what the heart wants. At least that’s what I had to keep telling myself. I just hoped that God would forgive us.” Available in Kindle Edition.

To Become a Priest by Den Adler - Thirteen-year-old Danny Bates is obsessed with becoming a Catholic priest, and he enters Southport, Wisconsin's, Resurrection Seminary in 1957. But a tragic fire in Chicago ignites doubts about the God Danny is so eager to serve, and he falls in love with Jessica Fernettan, his best friend Pat's twin sister. As Jessica urges both Danny and Pat to leave the seminary, and with the Church in a period of dramatic change following its second Vatican Council, the young seminarians face agonizing choices.

This is My Body by Elena Graf - The new rector of St. Margaret's by the Sea Episcopal Church has a secret. Lucille Bartlett was a rising star at the Metropolitan Opera, but she disappeared from the stage and no one knows why. Philosophy Professor Erika Bultmann is a confirmed agnostic, who doesn't have much use for religion, but she is fascinated by Mother Lucy. When Erika returns to her summer cottage in Hobbs to finish her last book before she retires, Lucy is drawn to the enigmatic professor, but she wants much more than a casual affair. Erika has been in open relationships; Lucy wants a commitment. Lucy believes marriage is sacred; Erika thinks it's a vestige of the patriarchy. When Lucy's secret is revealed, she needs Erika's support more than ever. Can they put aside their differences and find common ground?

The Temptations of Heaven by Greg Kauffman-Starkey - Father Leo Brannigan has been a man of deeply religious faith all his life. He is a respected pillar of his community and a man everyone turns to when they’re in need, spiritual or emotional. A chance encounter with a disturbed parishioner after a fire-and-brimstone sermon about homosexuality threatens to turn the good Father’s entire world upside-down. He finds himself strangely drawn intimately to the man he is counseling and is constantly thinking of him in ways he’s not ready to admit. The night he has his very first bombastic erotic dream about the fellow quickly has him questioning everything he thought he believes. Is he falling victim to the very lust he preaches so strongly against? Has the man made him wonder what he’s been missing by being a man of the cloth? If so, can Leo remain faithful in his religious convictions while growing closer to having a sexual relationship with this alluring stranger who has suddenly taken over his every waking moment and many of his sleeping ones?

Vatican: A Novel by Malachi Martin - The subject of this long and intriguing novel is the Vatican's elaborate bureaucracy, in particular its powerful financial network, headed by a mysterious figure known as the Keeper. Another central character, who gives the story its slant, is American Richard Lansing, who joins the Vatican as a young monsignore in 1945, and becomes the confidant of five successive popes. When he reaches the apex of his career, he staunchly opposes any Church bargain with Mammon. (Note: this book is not a romance or erotic story but I include it in this list because it might be of interest nonetheless).

[silverhallow]

Strangers All At Once: Burning

Strangers All At Once Masterpost

Prev | Next

Pairing: Sophie Beckett x Benedict Bridgerton

Summary: Sophie's lying to herself and everyone around... and how does Benedict really feel? Can they sort out this mess or will someone have to meddle?

Can't even begin to explain This all too well familiar pain That comes, and it goes, but it gets in my bones all the same, mmm Well, maybe I'm a fool for falling in love with you When I had nothing left to lose And nothing more I could give, went down with your sinking ship Now I don't think I'll make it through, through Now it's only the beat of my heart That reminds me not to stare at the sparks Can't set fire to my soul Just to keep ya, keep ya, keep ya from burning alone

How Sophie made it home she’d never know. She’d cried all the way home, she was sure of it.

How could she have been so stupid? She’d felt like she’d had nothing left to lose, felt like there was nothing left in her heart and soul to break but she’d been wrong.

She’d somehow, in the space of four weeks, fallen back in love with Benedict, or perhaps she’d never fallen out of love and her head finally gave in to remember what her heart had always felt…

She felt like a fool for falling in love with him.

He was a Bridgerton. A fucking bridgerton and she was a nobody. She was an orphan. She was a bastard. Her parents had never been married. A man like Benedict Bridgerton would never love someone like her… Araminta had told her that and she’d refused to believe it and she’d let herself hope. Convinced herself that he did love her but then she’d heard him say what he’d said…

And she’d left, heartbroken and wrecked… thinking that nothing would hurt as much ever again…

But then this time… standing there and hearing him saying the same things… how it had clearly meant nothing… 

It broke her all over again and what was worse to her was that Violet had seen and heard…

Sophie wondered if she’d even be able to make it through the wedding…

But as she lay in her bed that evening she realised that even after the wedding… if she wanted to be in Kate’s life… Benedict was always going to be there…

Christenings for any of Kate’s kids, family gatherings for Kate’s birthday… he was going to be Uncle to those kids, he was going to be Kate’s brother in law. She’d never escape him.

He was going to be there, the memories would always resurface every time she saw him and she knew in her heart that no matter what… she was never getting over him.

The following morning she made her way to the cafe, michael and phillip had arrived early to help her set up and with the bread orders for the day and had asked her about how dinner had gone, Michael saw the pain in her face, the gaunt look behind her eyes and he knew something had gone wrong.

Sophie just shook her head “it’s fine. Just… if a Bridgerton comes in today… i am not here” she said and disappeared into the back and refused to talk about it.

The pain she felt was all too familiar, it was a pain she’d thought she’d left behind. She didn’t even know how to explain it to them, they would never understand. But it was a pain that went down to her bones.

It was too much and she knew she’d have some decisions to make about if she was to even stay here or if she should leave England forever.

~*~

Benedict had hated lying to his family, he rarely lied to them but when it came to Sophie he had to play his cards close to his chest.

Dinner had been amazing, they’d joked about, they’d flirted a little and he’d even held her hand for a moment when Simon had made a comment about how nice it was to have everyone together again and they had almost kissed again in the kitchen, he’d leaned over her to get the wine glasses from the top shelf and he’d nearly dropped one on her head and he’d rubbed her cheek with his hand and when he’d gone to move it away, she’d placed her hand on his and they’d leaned in, closer and closer and then the door flew open and Kate had come in…

Sophie had froze and fled and Benedict had been lost in his own world as Sophie had gone to help his mother clear the cakes away and that was when his siblings had started. He knew it was from a place of care and love and Kate had backed him up but when he snapped at Colin “It doesn’t matter what it looks like. It was 3 months two years ago. It meant nothing. If she means nothing to me she should mean nothing to you! She’s Kate’s friend, so we have no choice but to be nice to her” he’d known it was a lie. It was said in a panic and was the only thing he could think of to get his siblings off his back. 

It was a lie, every word but his siblings didn’t know what it was like. To love someone who just… left you high and dry without even giving you a proper reason. He just wanted them off his back.

He wasn’t over it. He was never going to be over it. He loved her. He was always going to love her. It had been everything to him and she meant everything to him now. He’d just hoped that maybe… just maybe that she felt the same way. 

But after his outbreak and Kate’s scowl and threat of pain of death if they did anything to scare off her best friend and maid of honour… they’d backed down, just as his mother returned, a rather serious look on her face as she’d said Sophie’d had to leave for an emergency at the cafe and he felt disappointed that she’d left without saying goodbye.

What confused him even more was his mother asking Kate if she could have a private word with her.

Benedict had tried to message Sophie to ask if everything was okay but the reply didn’t come through until the following afternoon saying everything was okay and it was just a faulty oven.

He’d asked her if she wanted to meet up and discuss plans for the wedding but she said she had too much to do over the next few weeks… but they could text and it had upset him and he wondered if something had happened.

He’d tried to visit her a few days later but Phillip had just said she wasn’t there and she was busy… even when Fran, El and Colin had all tried to go to the cafe, none of them had been able to see her or allowed to see her, though Eloise was sure she’d seen the blonde curls duck behind the counter and disappear out the back before she’d entered the cafe and the entire thing just confused Benedict even more.

He felt like Sophie was avoiding him and when he’d asked her as much she’d replied saying she wasn’t but she was just busy as Kate’s wedding cake wasn’t the only one she was doing…

He felt forlorn and shattered and like she was pushing him away all over again and to top it all off, his mother and Kate were both being off with him and he had no idea why but he knew he had other things to worry about at the moment… tomorrow night was the hen and stag do and though they were going out separately they were all supposed to meet up and he was hoping, he was planning to try and talk to Sophie then, she was a friendly and flirty drunk and he had a bit of a plan… he just hoped that he’d be able to pull it off.

~*~

Sophie felt pleased with herself, she’d avoided anyone with a connection to any of the Bridgerton’s for a week.

She still had no idea if she was going to leave or stay once the wedding was over but she knew she wasn’t going to be able to avoid them forever.

She’d gone through the last five weeks in her mind, the way they’d grown closer again, laughing and joking over Anthony getting stressed about flowers and napkins for the tables. Talking about Benedict’s best man’s speech and they’d even talked about how they’d been instrumental in Kate and Anthony getting together once they realised they knew one another.

They had skirted around the subject of them, their past but they’d come close but never as close as they had in the Aubrey Hall garage.

They’d even nearly kissed twice. The first time had been an almost magical moment, Sophie had been showing him her designs for the wedding cake, it had been based on one of Benedict’s sketches, a drawing of Aubrey Hall and the pall mall game that had ultimately gotten Kate and Anthony together, it had been a magical day and both of them had been lost in the memory. It had been the first time Sophie had really met his family, they’d distracted one another during the game and they’d ended up in the tree house and spent the night below the stars, making love and whispering sweet nothings to one another…

Both of them had been lost in the memory, drawing closer and closer together and then Michael had burst into the office…

And then the second time had been the night he broke her heart again, in the kitchen where she’d been so close to telling him that she loved him, where she’d gushed to Violet that she had fallen in love with Benedict only two days before she’d left, before he’d broken her heart the very next day.

She’d hoped she’d be able to avoid any connection to the Bridgerton’s until the night of the hen and stag do’s but she had to know the Gods were not on her side.

She was sat in the office late the night before the Hen do, doing paperwork and balancing her books and she’d assumed that Michael who had been on the late shift had already left when her door flew open and when she looked up, expecting to see Michael in there with his usual smirk saying he was done and telling her he was off on a date as was the norm on a friday night but instead was greeted by the face of her best friend.

“Kate? What the hell are you doing here?” Sophie asked, confusion on her face.

“Well you’ve basically barred any Bridgerton seeing you all week and i know there wasn’t an emergency here last week when you left, though why Violet covered for you i’ll never know… but honestly Soph, i’m a bit worried about you and i wanted to make sure you’re okay” Kate replied

“I am fine, just busy getting all this done and ordering all the things for your wedding food and cake” Sophie said evasively.

“I get that, but that doesn’t explain why you’ve had the chuckle brothers saying you’ve not been here all week… at least to anyone who is a Bridgerton. Mary saw you in here yesterday” Kate replied

Sophie sighed “it’s complicated Kate, it’s just… been a bit harder than i thought seeing Benedict and all the Bridgerton’s again and I just… needed a bit of space”

This was close to the truth. 

“I don’t get how it’s that complicated, I saw you guys, if i’d been a few seconds later I’m sure i’d have walked in on you snogging Ben’s face off…” Kate replied

Sophie sighed “it just is” she replied, avoiding mentioning that almost kiss.

“Soph, what the hell happened between the two of you… i’ve known you for years and you’d never been happier than you had been with Benedict…then you just… upped and left! I know you loved him, I heard you talking to Violet… So what the hell happened?!” Kate demanded, her arms crossed

“Nothing happened. It just… wasn’t working. It doesn’t matter if it is in the past. It meant nothing to him, it meant nothing…” Sophie swallowed, fighting back the tears “it meant nothing” she repeated, hoping that if she kept repeating it that it wouldn’t hurt anymore and that she herself would start to believe it.

“Bull shit” Kate called “Sophie, if it meant nothing you’d have not fled to France”

“I’d been planning to go before I met Benedict, I just postponed it. It was always in my plans to go…” Sophie said

“And you didn’t tell me?”

“I tried but whenever I tried to bring it up before Benedict you were just complaining about Anthony, even when you got together and I tried to mention it before we left Aubrey Hall, I tried to tell you… i tried to tell you what was going on, but…” Sophie said

“But I was too wrapped up…?” Kate said feeling guilty, wondering if Sophie had tried to talk to her about Benedict and what was going on there as well and she’d just been wrapped up in her new relationship, besting Anthony in Pall Mall… and everything in between.

Sophie just shrugged a sad heartbroken look on her face “it is what it is Kate, but honestly, don’t worry, it’s in the past” 

Kate saw the look on her best friend's face and she knew there was more to this than she was letting on. She wanted to bring up that Violet had talked to her, that she knew Sophie had overheard Benedict’s tirade to his siblings but she had no idea how Benedict felt and she knew if she pushed Sophie into saying something to Benedict, about how she felt and he didn’t feel the same, though she was sure he did, it would shatter her best friend and she’d never see her again.

But she had to find out what had happened between her and Benedict in the first place, Violet had told her of her assumptions and theory and she knew she had to get Sophie to open up. To tell her everything…

There was one thing in this world that would get Sophie talking, to get her to tell her what was going on, something she’d learned at University and how she found out about this shit Araminta put her through… 

And that thing was tequila…

[iguana-eyanna]

To Break A Frozen Heart

Pairing: Sherlock Holmes x Reader

Summary: Sherlock loses the meaning of Christmas since he was a boy, but maybe he just needed a certain warmth to melt his frozen heart.

The frost-painted windowpanes scattered the shops illuminated the scene of bustling cheer as the distant songs of carolers echoed through the streets of London. Carriages were passing through the snow roads as young couples looked lovingly in each other's eyes.

Sherlock Holmes, on the other hand, observed the merriment with a distasteful frown as he was riding in the icy streets in a carriage. He adjusted his scarf, though the cold air was creeping in his lungs.

He hated Christmas with a passion. Since he was a child, his family was estranged to "affection" and "spirit of the holidays".

His mother did try to care for them but his father was a strict man, barely uttering a word to him and Mycroft as they were sent to reform school with no warning. No Christmas present was sent to the boys and Sherlock often escaped to the roof of his school and stared up in the stars, hoping that a shooting star could grant him just one Christmas to be spent with someone who cared for him.

But alas, his father later passed when Enola was a babe, Mycroft decided to be a stern government official, his mother shut off herself and Enola from the world, and Sherlock was forced to figure out life himself.

And now against his beliefs of staying at home and relearning Mozart's Symphony on his violin, he was forced to ride with a special heiress to one of the biggest landowners in England: You to be in fact. You were both traveling to Saint Jerome's orphanage as you often came to do acts of service and spend time with the children.

“I still don’t understand your enthusiasm for this season,” he muttered, looking at you with unamused eyes.

You, on the other hand, were glowing—dressed in a rich yet simple gown that complemented the joy dancing in your features, too gleeful to notice Sherlock's demeanor.

“Sherlock,” you said, placing a gentle hand on his lap.

“Christmas is a time to give, to bring warmth to those who need it. Surely, even the great detective can see the value in that.”

He huffed but said nothing as you wrapped your scarf tighter and prepared for the day’s itinerary. It was your first holiday with Sherlock, and you wanted to help warm up his cold heart. You thought maybe if you put things into perspective, he could find the child like joy he once forgot and take your courtship to a new beginning. But for now, you were grateful to take this one step with him.

Soon, you arrived to the St. Jerome's as Sherlock assisted you out of the carriage alongside a few sacks of treats and toys that you bought for the children.

"Oh Madam! It is so lovely to see you again." Mary, an elderly Scottish woman who was the main guardian said as she walked up to the two of you.

"Mary! It is lovely to see you again. I want to introduce you to a very special someone in my life, Mister Holmes."

Sherlock takes off his hat for formality and nods his head.

"It is a pleasure to meet you." He says respectfully.

"Come, come. Let us talk inside before you meet the children." She ushers you inside.

"We're going to meet the children?" He asks, not expecting to mingle.

You give him a stern look, ushering him to keep his snide remarks to himself as he reluctantly agrees to stay silent.

"Have any of the young boys and girls gone to new homes yet?" You ask as you settled in her office with Sherlock.

"A few have found homes, but some weren't so lucky. But we try to give them a good foundation here."

"I know Mary, you do so much work here. Never doubt that." You said as you gave her an enormous hug. Sherlock notices your deep connection to the guardian and ponders the relationship until a younger woman arrives in the office.

"Mary, the children are eager to meet the Madam as they saw her carriage by the front."

You smile widely, looking at Mary for permission. She couldn't help but smile back at you and cross her arms.

"You know what to do, love. Have fun."

Sherlock had to race after you with the leftover bags as you went into the dining hall where the children yelled out for joy at your presence.

You started to give fresh fruits, sweets, miniature wooden horses, trains, dolls to the young boys and girls. Sherlock saw how you embraced the children with such a free spirit, not fearing of ruining your dress or pick pocketing your personal items. You trusted these kids and they trusted you.

"Excuse me mister," a young boy says as he pulls the partial fabric from Sherlock's coat.

"I like your watch." He points out to the pocket watch that Sherlock sported.

"Oh... Thank you. It was my father's." He said, slowly kneeling to the boy's eye view.

"My father died last winter. Me and my sister couldn't keep any of his things." he said, bowing his head.

Sherlock felt a sudden pang in his chest. Was it remorse? He couldn't recognize the feeling but his eyes soften.

"I'm sorry to hear. My father died when I was younger too." Sherlock said.

"It's okay to cry. My sister, Florence, says it's okay to cry sometimes."

"Elias, where are you?" A voice cried out as the young boy in front of him whipped his head.

A girl who looked about 12 years old went up to the boy and Sherlock.

"Elias, I told you not to walk off without me knowing. I thought you ran off again!" The sister, Sherlock presumed, said as she held Elias tightly.

"Sorry, Florence." Elias said as he looks down.

Florence looks at the man suspiciously as she held Elias' hand.

"I'm sorry for the trouble mister. It won't happen again." She said as she ran off with Elias in tow.

Sherlock rose up, seeing the two siblings escape in the flow of children that were now eating or playing with their toys. He brushed himself off as he sought out to find you. He was bewildered to see you outside in the snow field as you were kicking a ball between the children in your velvet gown and heeled boots. You were smiling ear to ear, and saw how your nose was red like a cranberry. It made Sherlock chuckle a bit as he watched from afar.

“Mr. Holmes,” Mary said softly, approaching him with a cup of tea as Sherlock gratually took it.

“You’re lucky to have her. She’s a treasure.”

Sherlock beams with sudden pride. “I’m well aware.”

Mary looks and sees you tumble down accidentally from a sheet of ice. Sherlock almost ran out to help you, but you just broke into a fit of laughter. He even saw Florence and Elias nearby as they tried to help you up and saw how you talked to them intently.

"How often does she visit here?" He asks curiously.

"Since she became a young woman. Sure, high society would throw a coin our way to help them feed their reputation but not her. She comes every Spring, Summer, Autumn, and Winter. She's an angel whose soul cradles a mother’s love, though her body cannot.”

Sherlock whips his head to her, knitting his eyebrows.

Mary frowned. “Did she ever tell you?"

The conflicted man turns away and looks down at the ground.

"No, she did not."

As the sun began to set, you bid a sad farewell to the children as they waved you goodbye as you left with Sherlock. Along the ride to your estate, you were confused of Sherlock's silence.

As you two shared a tense Christmas Eve meal together, you could sense his mind was elsewhere. It wasn't until you had enough and spoke aloud.

"Sherlock."

He blinks repeatedly, realizing he never touched his dinner.

"Is everything alright?" You ask with concern.

He looks up to you, feeling his emotions get the best of him.

"You lied to me." He says in a small voice.

"What do you mean?" You ask again.

Sherlock tried to lock eyes with you, but he couldn't face you.

"Why didn't you tell me you couldn't bear children?"

Your eyes rounded as well as your lips, but you set aside your cutlery as you placed your hands in your lap.

"Mary told you..." You said, not surprised.

Sherlock rose from his seat and started pacing around.

"I should have seen the signs. You showed no symptoms of your courses when we were together-"

"Sherlock..."

"-and when we pass new parents with their baby you wipe a tear from your face-"

"Sherlock-"

"-and all of these trips to St. Jerome's. You're just trying to fill this hole in your heart-"

"ENOUGH!" You stood up as he stopped. You couldn't believe what he just acclaimed, and you knew you had to put him in his place.

"This is why I didn't tell you, Sherlock. Firstly, I am not a case to be deduced and secondly, I dearly love those children. What you accuse otherwise is a distasteful remark."

You sit back down, feeling your words choke but refused to make eye contact with him.

"I was 17 when I found out. All my hopes to become a mother just... faded away. But then I see all of these children alone and cold during this time of year. That's when my purpose changed, that's when I wanted to become something bigger than myself."

Sherlock looks at your somber state, feeling the guilt rise up his throat. He tries to get closer to you.

"I... I didn't mean-"

You raise your hand in between you and him to create space.

"You have been nothing but cold and small minded today, Sherlock. I don't want someone like that in my life. And for that, I ask for you to leave, now."

Sherlock was stunned by your words but you were right. He has hurt your honor, and he was only making things worse with his presence.

He rushes out of the dining room and collected his coat and hat, as he heard soft cries behind him.

Sherlock just decided to walk back to his apartment to make sense of your past secret.

Why did you not tell him? How did he not notice all these clues?

His thoughts grew louder until a small figure bumped into him and ran away.

Sherlock looks down to see if anything was missing until he realized his pocket watch was missing. He whips his head back and forth until he sees the same figure by a lamp post.

"You! Stop there!" Sherlock yells as he raced the fast figure.

They were at an arm's length and Sherlock grabbed them by the arm and turned them around, wanting to confront his burglar.

"Alright young man, why did you do such a-"

Sherlock's words get swallowed as he realizes he found Florence, whose hair was tucked in a hat as she held the clock firmly in her other hand.

"I'm sorry sir, I had to! Please don't turn me into the police. I'm the only family Elias has!"

Sherlock's face slacks as he unfurls his brow and gives a solemn look.

"I won't turn you in, but we are going to St. Jerome's to have a chat with Miss Mary."

Sherlock returns back to the orphanage with Florence as Mary shares fruitful words to the young girl.

"How dare you steal this man's watch, Florence. After everything him and the Madam did for us today... what do you say to him?" She scolds.

Florence looks back to the tall man and lowers her head.

"I'm sorry again Mr. Holmes." As she began to almost tear up.

Sherlock kneels down and gently smiles at her.

"It's alright Florence. My only hopes is that you never steal again."

"Go to bed, my dear girl, we will discuss your punishment tomorrow morning." Mary says.

Florence runs off, and Sherlock suddenly feels another pang in his chest.

"I do hope you don't give her a heavy punishment. She only had good intentions for her brother." He says as Mary sat by her table.

"We do not give rash punishments, but she will help around with chores around the building. But her heart is in the right place. Elias was sought for adoption, but he refused as he didn’t want to be separated from his sister since they didn’t have enough money to have the two of them. Florence must have thought if she could find the funds, they’d still be with each other.”

"That's a shame. They look very close to another." Sherlock responds, still thinking of his time here during the day.

"Do you have any siblings, Mr. Holmes?" Mary asks.

"A younger sister and an older brother." He says.

"Are you close to them?" She asks.

"I... try." He says, recollecting when was the last time he has been with Enola and Mycroft in the same vicinity.

But his thought fly elsewhere as his fixation of you grew.

"How did I not know of her condition?" he mutters to himself.

"We are often blinded from certain truths when one falls in love." Mary said as she goes up to the detective, who looked like he was carrying the weight of the world.

"When I first met the Madam, I knew from the start that she had an ache in her soul. But she pushed her problems away cause she there was so many others who faced more struggle than her. She may not mother children, but she's the reason why young boys and girls are given a childhood. Shouldn't that count for something?"

Sherlock stiffened, his sharp mind piecing together every memory, every fleeting comment you’d made about your past. He realized he’d never asked deeply, never probed. You’d shared your wealth, your kindness, and your heart, but not your history.

That shouldn't be the reason he should lose you forever.

"There's something I must do... but i acquire great help."

Mary beams proudly.

"Let's get to work."

+

You look out your window, seeing the snow fall down in the streets. It was Christmas evening, and it was silent in your estate. Although it was adorned with decorations and your staff grateful that they have been given bigger income for this time of year, your heart still felt heavy. You tried to move on and forget what Sherlock has said to you.

You then gotten dressed for the day as you were to return for the orphanage to help cook a Christmas dinner for the young children.

As you soon arrived, you knit your brow as many carriages lined around the streets of St. Jerome’s. Many status of class arrived with high spirits as you saw them holding boxed gifts or pantries of food. Once you entered the building, you gasped at the sight.

The building you we’re once in just the other day is filled of working class and upper class that mingled together as they entertained the children with songs or shared a meal together. Little boys and girls circled around a man who was carrying them or throwing them up in the air as they yelled for joy.

The man then resembled to…

“Sherlock?” You question yourself.

“Isn’t he a sight for sore eyes, love?” Mary asks as you whip your head to her

“Mary, what is going on?” You inquire.

“Sherlock happened. He stayed up all night decorating and spreading the word that that every child deserves a home. I was afraid there wouldn’t be enough children to go to new families but Mr. Holmes assured me otherwise.”

“That is correct. I contacted my family and they were quite moved to make sure no one was left behind.” Sherlock walks up to the two of you as he was smiling ear to ear.

You look around and you see a group of girls huddled around a group of women who were teaching them a sort of defense class as the young girls looked bewildered. An older woman winks at you before she returns her lesson.

You see Sherlock’s older brother, Mycroft, as he was reading A Christmas Carol to young children and adults. He looked so at ease, you almost didn’t recognize the man.

You then saw Enola as she was holding a young boy’s hand, as she introduced him to a distant relative that lived in the country side. They had a joyful reunion as you couldn’t help but wipe a tear from your eye.

“Sherlock, this is so wonderful.” You said.

Sherlock holds you in his arms as you felt the warmth radiating from his chest.

“Darling, you started this. Once I told others your name and how you devoted your time and wealth at St. Jerome’s, they found it in their hearts to do the same. I know I did.”

He brought you to a quiet corner as he held both of your hands.

"I have been unfair and unkind to you. The words I exchanged... they were out of insecurity. I hope that you can forgive me."

"Of course I do, Sherlock..."

"No. It's not enough. You've given so much to me in the time that i've known you. Your generosity, your ambition, your character... it makes me want to be a better man for you."

He kneels down with one knee and you gasp silently, slightly shaking your hands.

"Sherlock..." You knelt down as your eyes grew wide.

"I want to grow with you. I want us to build our life in an abundance of love and generosity. I want us to grow our family-"

"But you know I can't give you that." You said, your eyes watering.

"That's why they have something to give you." He said, motioning behind.

You saw Elias and Florence smiling widely as the young boy held the paper for you to grab. You reach over, confused until you open the seal, gasping loudly as you switch your head between the siblings and Sherlock.

"You're going to adopt them?" You ask.

"We are going to adopt them. You've shown me that family lies deeper than blood and bone. I want us to experience everything in this world, if you have me."

"And us!" Florence said, as she and Elias neared the two of you.

Sherlock laughs as he grabs a ring from his pocket and offers it to you.

"Will you make me the happiest man on Christmas Day and marry me?"

You nod your head as you smile ear to ear, grabbing Sherlock's face as you kiss him tenderly. An echoes of "ews" were exchanged between the siblings until you and Sherlock locked them in an enormous embrace.

"So we're going to be a family?" Elias asks you.

"Yes, my little Eli... we will together every Christmas, birthday, and every other day." You said

"I like that very much." Florence commented, smiling between her parents.

"Me too," Sherlock concluded, as he gave you one last kiss before you four walked back to the festivities where you shared the news and cheer.

These were the moments you cherished the most with your future husband, as life became a little more merry.

[softguarnere]

Like A Girl (Like A Man)

Shifty Powers x OFC

Chapter 9: An Inconvenience

Summary: Then the word reaches them: tonight.

A/N: A stormy day, but tumblr actually let me upload the moodboard, God bless 😌🙏🏼 I managed to make some progress in my term paper, so here's an update that I've been anticipating for a while. This chapter plus the next two have been giving me brain rot for months, so sharing them has me feeling like I can breathe a sigh of relief 🤭

Warnings: mentions of war and death

Taglist: @liebgotts-lovergirl @mrs-murder-daddy @latibvles @lieutenant-speirs

England, 1944

The verdict is in: those who hadn’t already thought Sobel to be an inept leader lose faith the second that he gets Winters transferred into Battalion Mess. Hopes had started to sway after Luz’s little prank with his Major Horton impression, but the court martial against their favorite officer sends them all over the edge – the kind of edge that they can’t come back from: a mutiny among the NCOs.

A mutiny they get extremely lucky with. Sobel gets shipped off to a jump school, Winters returns, and Lieutenant Meehan of Baker Company gets put in charge of Easy. Most importantly, Zenie doesn’t have to watch any of her friends get taken out back and shot for their bravery and audaciousness. Whatever or Whoever they all believe in must be working overtime.

Lieutenant Meehan is a good leader. Very fair. Shifty tells her that he thinks their company goes back to normal under his leadership. Zenie is inclined to agree.

As normal as they can get, anyway.

The longer they’re in Aldbourne the higher their tensions climb. Like a plane, inching higher, higher, higher into the sky until the green light comes on. Paratroopers drink like it’s the last drop of alcohol they’ll ever taste. Fights break out in the pubs. Girls are picked up. Hearts get broken. It’s all a blur of hurry up and wait while they wonder what’s coming.

The whole of Easy Company seems to breathe a sigh of relief when they get the orders to move out in late May. The night before they leave, a few of them who are quartered in the stable carve their names into its wood as a sort of farewell. After everyone else has fallen asleep, Zenie rolls over in her bunk, flips open her pocket knife, and carves hers up near the roof. Zena B McGlamery. The first time she’s written it in a while. Now no matter what happens to her, someone, one day, might look at this and know that she was here, just like all these men who surround her. She will have left her mark.

Uppottery is a different kind of blur – of orders and plans and preparations and studying. The mood shifts from restless to excited as the realization hits them that it’s finally happening. Luz gets plenty of practice with his Colonel Sink impression as he takes to quoting the man’s, “Three days and three nights of hard fightin’!” the way that people back home quote Bible verses when they have seemingly nothing else to say.

“Don’t seem like a problem,” Shifty says that night at dinner. He seems sincere enough, in that completely and honestly earnest way that he has of expressing himself. He shrugs. “I reckon a man can make it through just about anythin’ as long as it’s only three days.”

Popeye cracks a grin. “As long as we throw everythin’ we got at ‘em, those Krauts ain’t gonna last even one!”

His proclamation earns cheers and laughs of agreement. Somehow, Zenie finds that she laughs the loudest. If she and everybody else had that much gusto, then maybe the Virginian’s estimation will prove to be correct. All they have to do is make it from the plane to the ground, stir up some trouble to take German attention and resources away from the beaches, and stay alive. Simple. It’s the moment that they’ve spent years preparing for.

Then the word reaches them: tonight.

The airfield becomes a flurry of activity. Once again the tension climbs higher, higher, higher, with no sign of release in sight.

All around, men are streaking their faces with paint to darken them so that they won’t reflect in the moonlight. Some are staring watery-eyed at letters that they tuck close to their hearts before pulling their gear on. Prayers can be heard in between the sounds of laughter and barely controlled chaos. Joe Liebgott is giving people mohawks.

“Hey Tommy,” he calls out as she passes. He gestures towards the hair of the man sitting under his scissors. “You want one?”

For the second time since commencing this whole charade, she’s faced with the choice of cutting her hair. Sure, Liebgott has trimmed her hair for her throughout their time in the army, but this is more than a trim. Suddenly she’s a child again, sitting on the back porch watching Granny trim Matthew's hair and telling her, "But never yours, Zenie. That's where you keep your knowledge. That's where you keep your strength." Ironic, how cutting her hair to run away had taken the most strength and courage out of anything she had ever done in her life. But to cut it again?

She watches the paratroopers around her, all securing their equipment and darting around with adrenaline. She’s one of them, until the end. In for a penny, in for a pound.

Liebgott catches the change she flips him with ease as she takes a place in line. "Do your worst."

And she would let him do it, if it weren’t for Shifty nodding to her as he passes by.

She steps out of line and falls into step with him. “Where ya goin’?”

“Gotta sign my life insurance policy. You signed yours yet?” The question is much deeper than the one that he presents. The real one is written in the curious look he gives her: can a person committing fraud commit even more fraud without getting caught?

Zenie waves it off. “Nah. I figure if I die, they won’t be too keen on giving my family any money. Someone’ll probably send ‘em a letter of condemnation instead. If, you know . . .”

Shifty frowns and she immediately feels bad for joking about it. In her defense, she’s already accepted things as they are . . . For the most part, anyway. That little crease appears between Shifty’s eyebrows in a way that tells her that he’s puzzling through this.

“But your family should get the money somehow.”

Making sure Mama gets the money would be nice. But her father would probably get ahold of it somehow. Magician that he is, he would have no trouble making it disappear to God knows where. He would probably blow through it before Mama could even think about getting Zenie some sort of marker up in the Bird Town cemetery by Granny. If she doesn’t hate Zenie for what she’s done, anyway.  

My family doesn’t know I’m in the Army, she had explained to Shifty once in a half-truth. She hadn’t been able to tell him why at the time, but the fib must make sense to him now.

“Zena,” he says her name – her real name – quietly so that no one around them will hear it. Her heart beats so uncontrollably at the sound of it that she’s sure it’ll bring everyone’s attention to them, but no one seems to notice. “If somethin’ happens to you –“

McClung brushes past them, cutting him off. “Hurry up, slow pokes! We’re gonna be late to the feast!”

For this night only, they’re treated like kings. Steaks, potatoes, milk. Even ice cream for dessert! They all make the most of it, vaguely aware that this might be their last meal, although everyone has the decency not to point this out.

Toye snickers as he digs his spoon into his ice cream. “As long as they don’t make us run Currahee after this.”

Running Currahee. Sobel. The spaghetti. It all seems like so long ago. All that time to prepare her for being here, today, for this jump.

There is no running Currahee after their last supper. Instead the tension that’s been steadily building all day deflates like a popped balloon when it’s announced that the jump is cancelled.

Despite the cocktail of excitement, resignation, and adrenaline pumping through her veins, Zenie breathes a sigh of relief as she sheds her gear and heads off to watch a movie with the others. So much for tonight being the night of nights.

She’s just about to step into the tent with the movie screen when someone shouts for her.

“Tommy!” Sergeant Lipton’s light hair weaves through the crowd as he pushes his way toward her. He’s a kind man, and always looks at each in their company with solemn eyes that seem to take in everything. Absolutely inscrutable himself, though. Now that he’s trying to catch up with her, Zenie wishes more than ever that she could figure out what’s going on in his head.

She offers him a salute that he waves off.

Okay, so she’s not in trouble then.

“Been looking everywhere for you.” He brandishes an envelope and holds it out to her. “Got stuck in between some of my mail. And we all need some words of encouragement from home before we go.”

Bobby’s usually neat slant adorns the outside of the envelope in letters that are darker and spaced closer together than usual. The envelope feels thicker than the other ones that he’s sent her in the past. It’s rushed, just restraining itself from frantic, the way that he used to write on his homework in between serving tables at the diner.

She nods her thanks, expecting the end of it.

“Tommy?”

“Yes?”

Lipton eyes the letter in her hand. “You didn’t fill out the life insurance policy.”

There’s no question mark at the end of his words – it’s a statement of fact. How does he know? Then again, how does he know any of the things he always seems to have knowledge of?

“No, Sir.”

“There’s no one back home that you want that money to go to?”

She wants the money to go to her mother. But there’s no way of sending it to her without giving herself away. After all, Tommy Driver’s father’s name appears on every form she’s filled out up until now. Asking a Lily McGlamery to receive money in the event of her death might raise some eyebrows.

“There’s no one that I can send the money to.” Before he can gain the upper hand by asking something she might not be able to answer, she tries to explain it away with a conclusion she’s reached on sleepless nights of waiting. “If I die, it won’t be an inconvenience to anyone. They won’t need money to fill my space.”

A frown tugs at Lipton’s mouth. His eyes dart back to the letter in her hands. “I’m not entirely sure that’s true. I think that someone would miss you.” When she doesn’t respond, he turns to go. “Maybe just reconsider it, Driver. After all, the money doesn’t have to go to a direct family member.”  

He leaves her by herself to consider it. A direct family member. She could leave it to Bobby, maybe. He could make sure that the money goes to her mother.

Quiet – the first quiet that she’s experienced since coming to Uppottery – settles over her little solitude as the movie inside the tent starts up. She stands, alone, outside of it, a slight breeze whipping at her hair as she watches Lipton retreat. Silence has never been her friend. It’s always allowed her too much time to get inside her head. Especially back home, in her room – a reminder of siblings that have gone, family that have passed, and friends that did not exist.

Before it can consume her, she tears open Bobby’s letter. She’s watched everyone else get letters from loved ones. Watched as the men soaked up their words and carried them like a badge that will fortify them through the big jump. Hell, Tab even got sent a gun by the cops in his town as a gift. Part of her, she can admit now, was jealous in knowing that she wouldn’t have that.

Well, now she does. Good old Bobby.

Multiple pages slide out of the envelope. But it doesn’t seem like Bobby has all that much to say. Because the top page is a short note written in his rushed, anxious handwriting:

Dear Tommy, it begins. Please don’t be mad. I swear I didn’t tell anyone.

[westmeath]

got a first for the short story i wrote about an irish navvy working in england in the 50s HEHE a low first BUT. this is the easiest place to upload it so i’m going to post it here if you’d like to read it.. tumblr loses all my formatting but just picture the nicely indented lines in your mind

The Dublin boys and the Connacht boys were fighting again. Over what Bernard wasn't aware and cared little; too focused on his dinner. It was always one of a few things, each as trivial and dim as the last, and all of which boiled down to ‘You're from there and we're from here.’ Likely, it came down to the simple utterance of the word culchie or jackeen.

Bernard didn’t get involved in these arguments, both for the fact Sligo was too far north of Connacht for either side to bother with him, and that he himself simply couldn’t be bothered. He was, frankly, sick and tired of these petty arguments between men who were all here for the same reason; forced by a need for work to leave their homes and venture into the British workforce for the promise of better wages.

Even with the uncertainty of jumping from job to job, city to city, middle-of-nowhere to middle-of-nowhere-but-somewhere-else, not knowing how long you'll be there or how well you'll be looked after, only having enough money to keep you going for maybe two weeks at any given time… It’s not a life most would choose, but it was preferable to whatever lay in wait at home.

But for all the good it brought, Bernard missed the simplicities of home – though he’d left for the same reason as everyone else, a desperate need for work, absence had only made the heart grow fonder. He’d become weary of the back-breaking work, he hated the conditions he worked in, he hated the cities, he’d even grown to hate the people who inhabited the same spaces as him; the pubs filled with the same faces every day, faces of men who would never return to their birthplace, be it through shame, poverty or arrogance, men who would rather slink off over the horizon to die like a dog rather than be seen by their families again, nosing out the least amount of dignity in death.

An elbow slipped against Bernard's arm, knocking both his train of thought out of his mind and the slice of ham he'd just managed to get onto his fork straight back off it again. Martin, a younger man from Lancashire who'd somehow ended up with this gang of Irish navvies, craned his neck to gawp over his shoulder.

‘What are they fighting about?’ Martin looked back between the two men sitting with him. ‘Should I - should we be concerned?’

‘Don't worry about it,’ Christy, a Kerryman built like an ox, mumbled through a mouthful of mash. ‘Just keep your nose out of it.’

‘What's a “Dublin Shackreen”’?

‘Why are you here, Martin?’ Bernard asked. ‘On this job, I mean. There's no other English working here.’

Martin blinked. ‘I needed the money. I weren't going to be picky.’

Bernard hmm'd in response. He couldn't fault him there.

‘I'd rather be out in the fresh air than cooped up in one of the factories, day-in, day-out.’ Martin now idly picked at the peas on his plate, having forgotten the ruckus that was still ongoing behind him.

He finally stabbed the fork down onto a single pea, sending a couple more flying in opposite directions. ‘And anything's better than being down the mines.’

‘Out in the frigid air, you mean. At least the factories and the mines might be warm,’ Christy said.

‘Only depending on how deep the mine is,’ Martin replied. ‘It gets colder first, then it starts heating up.’

‘Send me right down to the core. I'm tired of my hands cracking open with the cold.’

‘Maybe you wouldn't feel so cold if you worked a bit harder, Christy,’ Bernard remarked.

Knocking his chair backwards, Christy leapt up and pulled Bernard towards him by the collar. ‘Look, you-’

‘Are you two heading home for Christmas? You'll be warm then,’ Martin said casually. ‘I'll go back for a couple days, at least. ‘Til they all start depressing me again and I can't take them no more.’

Christy sank back down into his seat, releasing his hand from Bernard's shirt and using it to scratch the side of his face in thought instead. The fist Bernard had reeled back in response slowly returned to his cutlery.

‘I’d say so,’ Christy said idly. ‘I usually do. I've enough saved to stay home for a month without doing a stab of work.’

‘I haven't been home in years,’ Bernard mused. ‘I'm afraid if I go now I mightn't come back again.’

He looked up from studying the remains of his plate and saw two faces staring at him.

 ‘You're thinking of packing it in, Bern?’ Christy asked, voice low.

‘Ah, I-’

From behind them, a roar rose up from the gathered crowd, and a tremendous thump cracked through the floorboards.

‘I think the shackreen lost,’ Martin remarked.

—

Martin saw the two of them off in the train station, waiting to catch a train of his own back up North. He gave them each a roughly torn piece of notebook paper with a company name and address of a job in Birmingham where he might be working come January, if they wished to join him on their return.

The remaining two travelled together on the ferry as far as the port in Dún Laoghaire, where Christy left him with a few claps on the back and a reminder to keep him posted on what he decides to do. For the rest of his journey, Bernard was alone.

He didn't know what exactly he expected to feel; preferably anything, but try as he might, he couldn't conjure up any feelings of nostalgia, or excitement, or longing, or even loneliness. The towns and fields racing past the window blurred into a numb fog in his mind.

It was dark by the time he disembarked from the train in Sligo, and late into the evening by the time he had reached the end of the long walk along the road out of the town.

Under the shadow of Ben Bulben lay the same old house; the same old trail of smoke stretching from the same old chimney, from below which the light of the same old fireplace illuminated the same old dirty windows.

He walked straight in as he always had done, and his mother acted equally as though no time had passed, not even looking up from making dinner on the range as she told him to take his dirty shoes off.

Bernard remarked that it was a bit late to be having dinner, to which his mother responded that it was only for his father’s sake, who was working late this evening.

The dreariness involved in sitting at the table while his mother simultaneously conjured up a stew and updated him on every death in the parish since his last visit, all while being badgered with questions of ‘Have you met any nice girls over there yet?’, compelled Bernard to put his shoes back on and say to her, ‘I'll talk to you properly later on, when Da is home, right?’, and headed back out the door and towards the nearest village.

Having a drink with some of his old mates would surely put his mind right. He had barely stepped foot into the pub when he was accosted by a familiar voice.

‘Get the fuck out of here Bernard, you’re barred.’

‘Ah come on Peadar, I’ve not been back in years.’

‘Fine!’ The grey-haired owner of the pub was already filling a glass. ‘Just this once. But one word out of you and you’re gone.’

Bernard slipped onto a stool at the empty bar, glancing over his shoulder to see who else was around. A number of men populated the darker corners of the little building, none of which Bernard was overly familiar with - except for his father, who grinned at him upon making eye contact and held up his drink in greeting from a table he shared with a few similarly scruffy looking men by the open fire.

Peader slid Bernard’s drink towards him. ‘How’s your sister? D’ya ever run into her over there?’

‘My sister? Is she not here?’

‘She’s been in England for the last 3 years, Bernard.’

‘Oh.’ Bernard paused. ‘Well no one told me.’

Peadar watched him drink for a moment, one eyebrow raised. Bernard busied himself with looking over his shoulder.

‘How’s the rest of them? Francis, Michael, Joe, Steve Óg, those shower - they’d normally be in here this time of day.’

He punctuated each name with a point of his finger at different chairs and tables across the pub; all now either empty or seating the worn older men he’d seen on his way in.

‘All gone.’

‘What? Died?’

‘No, not died, you stupid- …Gone and done the same as you, off to England to find work,’ Peader sighed.

‘Right, right,’ Bernard eased slightly, or deflated; he couldn’t tell.

A chair groaned across the floor, and he looked back up in time to see his father bid his drinking partners farewell and waltz out the door, singing something about dinner being ready for him.

For a few moments he watched the door swing slightly in the draught, knocking against its frame where it hadn’t been shut in properly.

‘Peader,’ Bernard began, ‘You haven’t got a pen and some paper I could borrow?’

‘Only if you give ‘em back.’

Hunched over the bar, Bernard began to write a letter:

Dear Christy -

I’ll see you back in Birmingham.

[ts1989fanatic]

Comparing Taylor Swift to William Shakespeare

What do Taylor Swift and William Shakespeare have in common? More than you might think, it turns out.

There's even a Buzzfeed quiz comparing her lyrics with lines from Shakespeare's poems.

Eminent Shakespeare scholar and former Oxford professor Sir Jonathan Bate, who is quite the Swiftie himself, got them all right.

So, who better to speak on the matter.

In a bookstore, 25 minutes south of where the Beatles were born Bate had an unexpected encounter with a modern interpretation of Romeo and Juliet.

The lyrics of Taylor Swift's Love Story, about a girl on a balcony and a boy who comes to rescue him, had captured his attention.

"I went up to the counter and said to the girl behind it, oh that's a great song, who's it by, and she said... this country and western artist Taylor Swift... so I bought the CD - those were the days of CDs - and gave it to my daughter who was nine I think and she gave it to all her friends," Bate told RNZ Afternoons.

"They sort of became lifelong Swifties so I kind of followed along."

Bate argues Swift is more than just a best selling pop star - she has a literary sensibility worthy of some of history's great writers.

"A lot of my work over the years... has been about how Shakespeare stays alive by being reinvented on all sorts of different cultural media."

The poet John Keats - also a big Shakespeare fan but who lived in the wrong century to test his loyalty to Swift - says poetry is "a wording of our highest thoughts, almost a remembrance".

"In other words, what a great poet does is they put into words feelings that we've all had but that we've not quite been able to articulate," Bate says.

"That's what Shakespeare did for his generation and it seems to me that is what Taylor swift is doing for a whole generation of young people."

"There's no doubt she has a very literary sensibility" - Eminent Shakespeare scholar Sir Jonathan Bate duration 19′ :50″ Playlist Download

"There's no doubt she has a very literary sensibility" - Eminent Shakespeare scholar Sir Jonathan Bate

There are of course areas where the pair differ.

"There's no doubt that Shakespeare was very very discrete about his own feelings and his own ideas."

Every feeling expressed belongs to a character, not to Shakespeare himself, Bate says.

Even when he wrote seemingly more autobiographically in his sonnets, he doesn't let on who he is talking about, he says.

"Maybe that is because he was bisexual because the majority of those sonnets do seem to be addressed to a beautiful young man."

It is a far cry from Taylor Swift, who has used her own life and successive heart breaks as sources for her work.

"My Taylor Swift journey took a bit of a pause when she started rocking and rapping, which isn't really my thing."

It was reignited, Bate says, when Folklore and Evermore were released.

"I started listening to the lyrics particularly of one of the songs in which she goes to the Lake District in the north west of England and actually mentions William Wordsworth, the great English romantic poet.

"That got me looking more closely at her lyrics and seeing that there's a whole set of references in her work to that romantic poetic tradition.

"There's no doubt she has a very literary sensibility."

True Swifties would have picked up on an easter egg too, Bate says - Evermore was announced on 10 Dec, the birthday of the romantic poet Emily Dickinson.

Bate says there's a famous Emily Dickinson poem about a love triangle, with the following lines:

I spilt the dew -

But took the morn, -

I chose this single star

From out the wide night's numbers -

Sue - forevermore!

"I'm pretty sure that's what inspired her to write the title song of Evermore."

The domination of visual platforms like Instagram and YouTube means in some ways, we are losing the sense of the power of words, Bate says.

"So I think when you have a popular artist like Taylor Swift who chooses words so carefully, who genuinely produces poetry in her lyrics, that's an enormously powerful, reassuring positive thing."

[semper-legens]

67. The Drowned City, by K. J. Maitland

Owned: No, library Page count: 437 My summary: One year to the day from the Gunpowder Plot. A huge wave has rolled down the Bristol Channel, nearly destroying the city and claiming many lives. Down in the cells of Newgate, a prisoner nicknamed Gallows thinks it’s only a matter of time before he loses his hands. But when he is hauled from the cells and given a second chance, he is charged with one goal. Find the Catholic spies that are said to plague Bristol. Or it will not just be his hands that he loses... My rating: 2.5/5 My commentary:

You know, for all I talked about wanting a break from the endless slew of Victorian historical fiction, I really didn't connect with this one. Which is a shame, because this should have been right up my alley! It's about Jacobean England, during the early reign of King James I - a period of English history, and a king, that I am actually quite interested in. And yet. Just found this book kind of boring, I'm afraid. Oh, it's perfectly serviceable, and I'm sure there's folks out there that would like it. It's just that those people aren't me.

As I was reading this, I kept comparing it (unfavourably, I shall admit) to the Thomas Hawkins series. What drew me there was Thomas' rogueish charms - he's a character, and a strong one! He's charismatic, he's playful, he's rakishly charming. The same cannot be said for Daniel Pursglove, our hero here. Daniel is something of a wet blanket, as a point of fact. I was intensely frustrated with him throughout the novel for the fact that he doesn't really do anything. His investigations into the identity of the suspected Catholic leader, and later his murder investigations, are somewhat half-hearted, and he's not particularly proactive. He intervenes at one stage to protest to the lynching of a group of suspected Catholics, is rebuffed, and then just...gives up? When Myles gets almost killed, Daniel's not even the one to heroically leap in and rescue him! He just stands there, then goes to find them! He's just so...dull.

And overall, the narrative of the book just isn't that interesting. Any suspense or interest is curtailed by the fact that the plot is increasingly obvious. I don't think there was a single thing that surprised me throughout the narrative - and not in a fun, oh-my-God-I-worked-it-out kind of way, more a why-is-this-man-so-fucking-dense kind of way. With few fleshed-out suspects, of course the occasional reference to serving maid Rachael acting shiftily means she's the real culprit. Of course the men wanting a street urchin to serve in their masque over their own apprentice means they're going to sacrifice him. It's just so predictable. Adding to that is the fact that most of the characters speak entirely in exposition, and none of them really have a reason to be infodumping to this random stranger with the flimsiest of cover stories who just sort of wanders into their presence, and maybe buys them a drink. It just wasn't believable, and wasn't interesting. Sorry, book.

Next up, more murder, but this time in real life.

[calyxthenerd]

there goes my heart beating, cause you are the reason I’m losing my sleep

Diana’s pov

Diana was so happy her parents had let her stay at Aunt Josephine’s for the holidays instead of going with them to England, Minnie May was particularly unsufferable about it, but ultimately realized there was nothing she could do, so there she was, at her aunt’s front door, when she came in, she saw Anne, her dear friend, accompanied by Matthew and Marilla, of course, next to them were Cole and Aunt Josephine’s butler and confidant, Rollings, with Aunt Josephine on Rollings’ other side, her face fell when she saw him, Gilbert Blythe, the guy who took her best friend’s heart, accompanied by his brother, Bash and little Delfine, who was already two years old, my oh my, how time does fly

She was a little disappointed that Gilbert was there, she couldn’t lie, she wanted to spend some time with Anne, since the girl had graduated from university and moved to Toronto to be with Gilbert and start her teaching career, they hadn’t talked much, just some short letters, given how busy they both had become, she was looking forward to catching up, but given that she was here with her betrothed? Husband? she really didn’t know their status at the moment, another reason why she needed to talk to Anne, but it wouldn’t happen with the man here.

Diana was snapped out of her musings by Aunt Josephine clearing her throat and starting to speak “very well, since my dear Diana has arrived, I will start giving you your room placements” she looked around “Sebastian, I already set aside a room for you and your daughter, with the smallest bed I could find at the market so she can sleep in a space fitting for her age”

“I thank you for your kidness, ma’am” the man says, his thick accent shining through, as he bows his head and follows Rollings, who escorts him to his room, his daughter toddling behind him, his fingers firm in her grasp

“Matthew and Marilla” the siblings perk up, cutting short the whispered conversation they were having with Anne, which was just the redhead recounting her adventures in Toronto, surely with lots of romantic outings with Gilbert, she thought bitterly “You two will have rooms on opposites of the hall from each other, so you can easily reach the other’s room, should you wish to do so” Aunt Josephine continued, getting twin nods and expressions of gratitude from the siblings, who let themselves be guided off by the butler

“Gilbert, unfortunately, given that most of the rooms here have been reporpused into storage rooms or studios by our resident artist” she teases her protege “you will have to share a bed with Cole, I hope it will not be an issue with you?” She asks

“Not at all Ms Barry, a warm bed with a trusted friend sounds way better than the chairs I usually fall sleep in while studying” he joked, his face turning slightly red to Diana’s confusion

“Well, then I hope this vacation will provide you with some rest” she smiles at him “Cole, be a darling and guide our guest to where he will be staying” she grins at the blonde, winking as he walks away with the other boy, before turning to the two left in the parlor with her

“And you girls, my darlings Anne and Diana” she rests a hand on each of their shoulders “Will be sharing a room, because I have been told you haven’t had much of a chance to converse lately, I hope to rectify that, I’m sure you know what room you will be staying in?” They nod, simultaneously, before racing off to find their usual sleeping quarters, this trip was already turning out better than Diana had hoped

///////

Anne’s pov

Anne was floating like a feather, with how happy she was, she got to celebrate Christmas at Aunt Jo’s with all her favorite people! Jerry wasn’t there, obviously, having taken the opportunity to spend his break with his family, and he was still a tad intimidated by the luxury of Aunt Jo’s mansion, but everyone else was there! Matthew and Marilla, her darling guardians, Cole, her dearest kindred spirit, Aunt Jo and Rollings, who always welcomed her with open arms, Sebastian, who always had the most marvelous tales to tell, little Delphine, who was learning to talk, and was showing herself to be as feisty as her late mother, Gilbert, who, despite their recent breakup, was still great to talk to, and the only one who could rival her intellect, and of course, Diana, her bosom friend, oh how she had missed Diana, and they got to share a room! That had Anne over the moon, she could already imagine, their late night conversations, getting to swap stories about anything and everything, this was going to be incredible

///////

Cole’s pov

Cole was extremely nervous, he had been developing a fondness for his best friend’s former beau since the time he broke his arm and the other boy insisted on continuously checking up on him, stopping Billy Andrews whenever the blonde decided to bother him, sitting next to him in class, compliment his drawings, and when he moved in with Jo they started corresponding, keeping it up when the shorter boy moved to Toronto, anyways, his heart was very found of the dark haired boy, it pounded every time he was near, and so he talked to Jo about it, and the woman was set on playing matchmaker, seeing how Anne talked about Diana when she wrote them. After the redhead broke up with Gilbert, she decided to pair the girls and the boys in rooms together when they came for the holidays, to really push them together

///////

Gilbert pov

Gilbert was very excited, he’s been working himself to the bone, trying to finish medical school so he can start practicing, and after him and Anne made the transition from lovers to roommates, it was like a weight fell from his shoulders, it was so much easier to focus on his studies, now that the tension was gone and they could return to their good-natured banter and intellectual discussions, this was definitely how he preferred their relationship be

And now he got to share a bed with Cole, the blonde was an interesting character, after that incident during the Christmas pantomime a few years ago, they have kept in contact, exchanging letters when they moved away, and oh, if those interactions hadn’t sent the boy, who thought he knew everything there was to know about his preferences in romantic partners, into a crisis, so he confided in Anne, the only person who he knew would understand, with her particular way of seeing the world, he just knew she would understand, and he was right, because that same evening, she confessed of her growing feelings for Diana, now he guessed she was in cahoots with Ms Barry in terms of the room placements, he cursed the redhead, the week they would be staying there was going to be a very long one

[johnhardinsawyer]

A House, United

John Sawyer

Bedford Presbyterian Church

6 / 9 / 24 – Third Sunday After Pentecost (Proper 5)

2 Corinthians 4:13-5:1

Mark 3:20-35

“A House, United”

(We Do Not Lose Heart)

About a year ago – on and off – we started reading The Chronicles of Narnia with our oldest son at bedtime.  Over the course of seven books, the author C.S. Lewis spins tales of a world where animals speak and live in harmony with human beings and where children from England are magically whisked into a land called Narnia to help when problems arise. When I was introduced to The Chronicles of Narnia, as a child, I simply thought that they were great stories.  But I learned later that these stories were written as allegories – metaphors – with Christian themes.  For example, in the first book – The Lion, The Witch, and the Wardrobe – a lion named Aslan becomes like Jesus when he offers to die for someone else’s sins.  He is later resurrected and – throughout the other books, not unlike Jesus – Aslan seems to be always present, even if he cannot always be seen.  

In the final book of the series, though, Aslan has not been seen in quite some time.  And there is a character who takes an old lion skin and puts it on a donkey and deceives a whole lot of Narnians into believing that Aslan has really returned and is not happy.  I don’t know if C.S. Lewis knew the term “gaslighting” when he wrote the book, but basically this character is saying, “You know that thing that you just saw?  Well, you didn’t really see it.  You know that thing that you just heard?  Well, you didn’t really hear it.”  “You know that thing that you thought you knew about Aslan?  Well, it’s not true.  Instead, the thing that I am thinking and telling you about Aslan is true.” [1]  An alternative reality is spun right before people’s eyes and they actually start to believe it.  

As we read this part of the book, I glanced at my wife and said, “I feel like this sounds a lot like 2024!”  There are these different realities that we and our neighbors seem to be living in – realities reinforced by whoever is telling us whatever their versions of “the truth” may be.  And if we hear certain versions of someone else’s truth enough times, we might just start to believe it.  The conflicting realities that are spun by those who are in pursuit of power, or ratings, or wealth, or allegiance to a certain version of the truth that preserves them and harms others can be so dangerous and so disheartening.

Alas, we see some of this at work in today’s reading from the Gospel of Mark. 

Last week, we heard about Jesus’ conflict with the Pharisees over the breaking of Sabbath rules – picking grain and healing a man with a withered hand. . . “working” on the Sabbath – a big no-no.  Now, Jesus is drawing crowds by the thousands, from all over the place.  There are so many people, that Jesus appoints twelve disciples to help him, “. . . to be sent out to proclaim the message, and to have authority to cast out demons.” (3:14-15)

Now, this idea of casting out demons might sound foreign to most of us, but it runs throughout this part of the Gospel of Mark.  One interpretation of Jesus’ conflict with these “demons” is that Jesus has come to bring about an apocalyptic change in the life of the world.  Jesus has come, proclaiming God’s kingdom – a kingdom that stands in opposition to any and all evil – spiritual or otherwise.  As one commentator writes:  

“The struggle over evil is where the gospel of God’s reign meets the world.  Where the demonic shows up is a local or personal manifestation of a wider skirmish between the old age and the new.”[2]

The crowds sense that something new is happening with this Jesus, person, and so, the crowds keep coming.  In today’s passage, they keep crowding into the house where Jesus is staying – most likely in Capernaum, or another nearby town, on the shore of the Sea of Galilee.  There are so many people that the author of the Gospel of Mark writes, that Jesus and the people in the house “could not even eat.” (3:20)  Now, we live in a house with two young children and we know all about this problem at mealtimes.  There are so many interruptions!  Apparently, Jesus keeps responding to all of the interruptions – even skipping meals to help people in need – and it’s exhausting.  Jesus’ own mother and brothers are worried about him.  But, as if not being able to enjoy a quiet meal were not a big enough problem, these scribes from Jerusalem – religious leaders from some of the most learned traditions in all of Judaism – show up, and they hear from the Pharisees what Jesus has been doing, and they see the crowds, and observe Jesus in action, and they immediately come to the conclusion that Jesus and his disciples must be possessed by the devil.

Isn’t this usually the case?  How quickly we can demonize someone else because we can’t see past the strictures of our own limited worldview well enough to understand the complexities of their worldview?  We don’t like complexity or a whole lot of gray.  It needs to be simple and easy to understand – black and white – easy to categorize and dismiss.  

The scribes – who clearly fear Jesus’ growing influence among the people, and particular slant on the Hebrew scriptures, and cavalier welcome to all kinds of people, not to mention his mysterious power to heal and make whole – try to dismiss Jesus, saying, “He must have Beelzebul.” (3:22)  In the original language, this word does not mean “devil,” per se.  It’s similar to the false – “small ‘g’” – god, Baal, in the Hebrew Bible, and could be translated, “Lord of Filth,” which sounds bad (but it would be a great name for a heavy metal band).  And, for all of you folks who took English in high school, the word “Beelzebul,” I was fascinated to learn, could also be translated, “Lord of the Flies.”[3]  Either way, for the scribes to say that Jesus is possessed by Beelzebul is not a flattering thing to say – a deadly accusation in that day and age.  “He is casting out demons by the ruler of demons,” they say.  (3:22)

But then Jesus counters this by saying, “Does it make sense to send a devil to catch a devil, to use Satan to get rid of Satan?  A constantly squabbling family disintegrates.  If Satan were fighting Satan, there wouldn’t be any Satan left.”[4] “A house divided against itself or a kingdom divided against itself cannot stand.”  “I am here to do good. Period.  Why would you try to assume or spread the lie that I am here to do evil?  Evil and good can’t coexist in this house or this kingdom of mine.”  “No one will stop me from doing good, or seeking good for others,” Jesus is saying.  “I have come to declare a new reality that destroys whatever false realities you have spun in the minds of hearts of these people.  You are trying to preserve what’s left of your kingdom – a kingdom brought low by corruption, and greed, and helplessly grasping at paltry political straws offered by foreign powers.  I have come to declare a new reality.  A new kingdom. God’s kingdom.”

With all of this, Jesus is asking the scribes, and the crowds, and his disciples, and all of us:  Is this reality – God’s kingdom reality – the one we are living in, or do we see ourselves and our world in a different reality?  

This past week, as Americans responded, either with cheers or jeers, to the recent verdict in a certain high-profile court case in New York, I saw a montage of video clips showing a lot of news anchors and commentators, from across the ideological spectrum, reflecting on America’s response and saying some version of the same phrase:  “Americans now live in two different realities.”[5]  Maybe some of you share this sentiment.  I know that I have been taken in by it from time to time.  To paraphrase one commentator[6] from this past week when confronted with the idea that we – as a divided people – are living in two different realities, “No. . . we are all living in one reality” – this one.  We just have a problem discerning what this one reality should be.  

You know, it can be so disheartening to experience the conflicting realities that are thrown our way.  “Just how can ‘those people’ believe their false reality, anyway?”  And so, we try to cast out demons by demonizing those who do not see the world the same way we do.  We would be wise to be cautious in this, though.  It’s one thing to demonize an idea – for there are plenty of insidious ideas and ideologies (especially when vice is proclaimed to be a virtue and violence is seen as the only option) – but it’s another thing to demonize a person or group of people.  In so many stories, Jesus casts out demons and the person who was possessed is then seen in their right mind – healed and made whole.  Are we seeking the healing of another person, or a whole group of people, or are we condemning them?  Are we destined to be a house – a nation – divided?  Or is there another way?  

And what if we need to be healed, as well?  Because there are false realities that we spin about ourselves – possessed by those internal voices that arise within us, or that we heard on Insta-Chat-TikTok-Face, or from some other place – that we are not good enough, or smart enough, or fit enough, or rich enough.  And it fills us with shame and dread that we do not deserve, and it breaks our hearts, and injures our souls, and threatens our very lives.  So many of the things we tell ourselves about ourselves are not true, but falsehood has a way of possessing us.  Talk about demons that need to be cast out. . .  Are we destined to be a house – a mind, and heart, and soul, and body – divided?  

In the face of all of this, it can be so hard to not lose heart.

There is good news, though:  as we heard in today’s reading from 2 Corinthians – the reality we see right now is temporary and that God has promised a glorious permanent reality in which we are brought into God’s presence – unitedwith God and with one another – and are being made new.[7]  

And until this new reality takes hold of us – and hold of the whole world – Jesus gives us another promise. . . another reality. . . one in which we are made part of God’s own family by doing the will of God:  loving God and loving neighbor,[8] doing justice, loving kindness, walking humbly,[9] living with love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, and faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control.[10]  All of these are the building blocks of God’s kingdom reality and if someone else’s reality isn’t built on these, then we would be wise to seek a different reality.  

You know, I can remember graduating from High School – 30 years ago this month – and moving away from home, having only really experienced the one reality in which I had been raised.  Pretty soon, I encountered all kinds of people with different priorities and motivations and ways of seeing the world.  I had no idea that there were so many alternate realities to my own.  There were plenty of times when I was taken in by some of these other realities – if you want to call them that – but somehow, by the grace of God, I always came back to some of these “kingdom” building blocks.  I haven’t been perfect.  None of us are.  But, if we were to ask simple questions like, “Is it loving?  Is it kind?  Is it healing? Is it welcoming? Does it show God’s mercy and grace?  No?”  “Well, let’s seek a better reality, then – a kingdom reality – and let’s live in it, together.”

May we be a house, united, and seek God’s better reality – a kingdom reality – and live in it, together.  

In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.  

--------

[1] C.S. Lewis, The Last Battle (New York: Collier Books/MacMillan Publishing, 1956) 28-33.

[2] David Schnasa Jacobsen, Fortress Biblical Preaching Commentaries: Mark (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 2014) 40.

[3] Walter Bauer, A Greek-English Lexicon of the New Testament and Other Early Christian Literature (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1979) 139.

[4] Eugene Peterson, The Message: Numbered Edition (Colorado Springs: NAV Press, 2002) 1380. Mark 3:23-27.

[5] https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qmxzQJt80XI.  Clip from The Daily Show from Monday, June 3, 2024.  Start watching around 14:30.  Paraphrased, JHS. 

[6] Jon Stewart, The Daily Show, June 3, 2024.  15:08.  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qmxzQJt80XI.

[7] See 2 Corinthians 4:13-5:1.

[8] See Mark 12:30-31.

[9] See Micah 6:8.

[10] See Galatians 5:22-23 – “The Fruit of the Spirit.”

[teddyniffler]

Mercy in Defeat

Chapter 11

Part 1

The horses were set to go, they lined the courtyard waiting for the moment they would set out, the royal tent was packed tightly between three service carts and there was an air of excitement outside of the villa as the people from the fields lined the road, today the king would ride out, allowing the common folk to see him. In the courtyard, Elsewith waited under the pavilion with Prince Edward and Princess Aethelflad and their house staff. The two younger royals were watching the horses, Edward was looking over at somebody in the crowd, trying to attract their attention and occasionally pulling a funny face when he caught the man’s eye. Edward kept looking over at his mother to make sure she didn’t catch him in the act, while the little princess stood holding her mother’s hand, waiting quietly until she could go back to her nursery to play with her toys.

King Alfred came out of a side door from the villa, he had been attending to a certain enquiry before the journey, at his appearance the Wessex soldiers all stood to attention by their horses, he walked over to his wife and children.

“All set my king?” Elsewith asked

“Yes, we shall set off momentarily, will you be ok while I’m gone?” He asked, choosing to pretend he hadn’t noticed Edward going cross eyed and pulling a grotesque face behind Elsewith’s back.

“We shall be fine” She leaned forward and kissed Alfred “I will miss you.”

“Me too, but I will be back soon, I have asked my men along the Merican boarder to look out for Northmen, I have doubled the guard here in my absence, but I am reassured nothing will happen, it has been very quiet for some time. Wherever the Pagans are raiding, they do not appear to have England in their sights, I believe their defeat is still felt and our new defences have dissuaded their enthusiasm entirely, although I refuse to let my guard down.”

Alfred looked around him, somebody was missing from their goodbyes.

“He’s with her again, isn’t he?” He asked Elsewith, fighting the temptation to smile and failing.

“He is, and they are ‘just friends’ you know.” She said with a tune that said otherwise.

“Just friends” Alfred said with a shake of the head “Just friends. I am prepared to bet fifty gold pieces that they are more than just friends”

Alfred turned behind him and scanned his men. He found who he was looking for, it was the same direction Edward had been pulling faces.

“Athelstan!” He called into the corner of the courtyard.

There was movement as another young man came out through the crowd of soldiers. Prince Edward puffed out his checks and blew as loud as he could. His mother turned at the sound and tried to stop him.

“Edward!” She hissed quietly “I have spoken to you about doing that. It’s not becoming for a prince”

“But mother, Prince Athelstan taught me it”

“I know he did” Elsewith said sternly looking right at the young man approaching them, “You also know not to copy him.”

Hvitserk bounced towards them, he always walked as if he had a jump in his step, as if he was born to leap and dance through the air. The sunlight shone down upon his hair making it appear flecked with dark gold, lighting up his fair eyelashes. As he neared them, the breeze ruffled his hair into his green eyes, which he shook out of the way. His hair was long enough to tie back, but he often wore it lose and pushed back. Behind Queen Elsewith, her ladies took notice and glanced at each other. Prince Athelstan was always a favourite among them in the Court, King Alfred’s own godson. He had sad eyes that somehow didn’t match his cheerful personality or his cheeky smile. Often, he titled his head to the side and looked in a way that could make the coldest hearts melt. He was a beautiful, kind soul with a handsome faced that could break many hearts, their included. The fact this prince would one day be king of East Anglia made him doubly popular among them, for whoever married him would be a queen, not that any of them believed they stood a chance, he was annoyingly close to a sister of the cloth and she could call an end to her vows if she wished.

Why this prince would favour a common nun over them, noble ladies such as they were, was a constant source of anguish among them.

The ladies were from Northumbria, learning the ways of a court from Queen Elsewith, they had arrived a year ago and met the sweet prince, they had been informed then that he was the last of a now deceased royal bloodline and the royal family of Wessex had taken him in a few years ago. However due to personal circumstances, he hadn’t been Christened as a child, which was odd but not unheard of, but that had been corrected by Alfred when he arrived here.

Prince Athelstan didn’t talk about his family, he got shy or just smiled sadly, but the ladies had their own theories. One guessed his family had been killed in the last raid by the Northmen, led by the monstrous Ivar the Boneless. The other two disagreed with her, they thought he was obviously the last remaining member of the Merican royal bloodline. They both worked out from his age, Athelstan would have been a young child, or even a baby at the time of the mass murder of the Merican royals by the crazy Queen Kwenthrith.

He had been hidden away from her - as the two ladies had explained to the other - the last remaining Mercian royal, kept in exile and raised in secret until he was safe from Kwenthrith, but he had gotten lost along the years until King Alfred of Wessex found him. Queen Kwenthrith had slain so many of her own family it was said the devil himself oversaw her torment, she was a legend for all the wrong reasons.

This also explained why Athelstan would be king one day. Wessex ruled Merica now and forever, but this young prince rightfully should have had a claim to the throne, but that had been denied to him. So Alfred, being noble and just above all had promised him East Anglia, a smaller kingdom than Merica, but still a kingdom, and Alfred was tutoring Athelstan on how to be a merciful and righteous king. They had all seen Alfred giving Athelstan advice at times, this was why. It all made sense, they had convinced the other lady that Athelstan was a Mercian prince. They congratulated themselves in the dead of night for uncovering the truth about him without too much digging around, his clearly tragic upbringing only made them love him more.

Naturally none of them had asked the prince to confirm this, for it was not their place to speak to him, they were there to follow Elsewith, nor did they wish to be rude and invasive to him. He was also with Alfred most hours of the day, those two were so inseparable, they were like brothers who always had the other’s back.

None of them ever suspected he had once been a Viking or that his deceased bloodline was none other than King Ragnar Lothbrok’s. Hvitserk had perfected his English so he could speak it fluently without any error or pauses, he had learned how to answer to ‘Athelstan’ flawlessly as if it had always been his name, could speak the odd Latin sentence and had memorized all important church holidays and feast days. He passed almost perfectly as a Saxon now, however he did still have a slight accent that just didn’t match the normal Wessex tone, however this just added fuel to the Merican royal family theory for the Northumbrian ladies, clearly that hint of an odd accent was a Merican one.

“Sorry” Hvitserk said as he reached Alfred and Elsewith “Got distracted.”

They both looked like they were not trying to meet each other’s eyes.

“She’s a friend” He protested.

Elsewith caught her husband eye at last, smiled and held her arms out to Hvitserk.

“Come here, be safe and don’t get lost this time Athelstan”

Hvitserk cringed, they had been an incident the last time they had went out. “I didn’t get lost, I was just slightly more south than where I meant to be. We just missed the turning because of the snow.”

She let go and he bent down to get a goodbye hug from Edward, who grabbed him so tightly around his neck he felt like he was being strangled.

“Be good for your mother, and keep her safe from the nobles” He whispered and let go. “No more pulling rude faces” He winked. He could feel Elsewith’s eyes on him and he grinned.

“Goodbye for now little princess” he said to Aethelflad who waved with a wet hand that had been in her mouth. Alfred’s kids were seriously adorable, it was a joy just to be able to play with them some days. It made Hvitserk long for children of his own even more.

Elsewith then turned to her husband.

“And you my husband, keep safe out in East Anglia and on the road, may God go with you and keep you both safe”

They kissed, Edward made a loud noise of disgust, Hvitserk tried to keep his face normal and not laugh, because he had been the one who had accidently learned the young prince to do that. As Alfred had once joked, Hvitserk had a corrupting influence on his son’s manners.

Hvitserk climbed up on his horse as Alfred said goodbye to his children. It was a brown female with a white line down her face. He always felt a little uneasy riding her as she had once belonged to Aethelred, Alfred’s brother. Hvitserk remembered the day Alfred had asked him to ride her and explained whose horse it had been, Alfred’s father had gifted her to Alfred’s brother and then they had both died shortly after. She was such a beautiful horse to just leave in the stables, one of the most stable and swift horses gold could buy. She had been especially bred for a future king, at a time it was believed Aethelred would take over from King Aethelwulf. Alfred couldn’t bare anybody riding her, but nor did he want her to just sit in the stable. He couldn’t bring himself to sell her either. That was until Hvitserk joined their family, he remembered how Alfred’s voice had shaken, or how his hands had felt slightly too warm when he handed the reigns over to Hvitserk. Since that day, Hvitserk rode her and took very good care of her, as if she were the most precious thing to him. At times Hvitserk would groom her himself, finding a break from trying to fit into his new life, back at home, he had always tended to his own horses.

As he sat on his horse waiting for Alfred, he felt the servants rearranging his clothing, draping his cloak over the back of the horse, his eyes went to the corner of the courtyard. She was standing there still, he smiled at her when her eyes met his and she smiled back at him. She would wait until he had left before going back to her work collecting food for the church. It was true he could ask her if she would consider giving up her vows and marry him if they both wanted too, but he wasn’t sure he wanted to take her away from that life when helping others made her happy, but they made each other happy also, there was no doubt. The awkwardness he had felt with her being back in Wessex after her brief stay in Rome had passed with time, they talked often whenever he was in the church or she in the villa.

She often helped him with questions he couldn’t ask Alfred without feeling silly and whenever things got too much and he needed space from any and all Saxons, she always somehow found his hiding places and sat with him quietly, her presence not bothering him. Their friendship had started when she had covered for him a few weeks after his conversion. He had snuck outside the villa for some air in the middle of the night, he had walked to the area he thought Sigurd had died without thinking, it had been far too close to the outer gate when he still wasn’t allowed to be out there. When a guard seen him standing alone by the gate he had came over to asked questions about why he was there and she just appeared by his side and lied to the guard that he had been helping her clear up after a midnight mass, she was taking the prince to his room. The way she had covered for him meant a lot to him.

Near her he could ease the constant Saxon prince act even just for a few moments and laugh about things, no matter if it were a candle that refused to light in the chapel or pointing out a painting of an angel with slightly wonky wings. With her, he could lie on the floor or sit on steps without acting like somebody he was not, it had been exhausting in the first year, trying to mimic Alfred’s mannerism when he had never acted like a prince in his life.

In time she had become something he couldn’t explain, a friend but also a source of guidance outside of Alfred, somebody who spent time with him because she wanted too on her own free will, nobody had asked her to be with him this time. Their time together was very short, just here and there. Christians formed relationships different to Pagans, he had never even kissed her, never mind seen her hair. He wasn’t allowed to be with any woman unless they were married, which he had found strange at first but Alfred that stressed it was important, for his own safety too and that of any woman. Hvitserk knew only too well what would happen, as Alfred had told him about his own mother.

He didn’t want to marry a Saxon lady, the ones from Northumbria were suffocating with their ladylike ways, same as the ones from Wessex he had seen. They were all too formal and proper, he wanted somebody similar to himself, someone carefree who would one day allow him to have a dog in his court like the one his mother once had, somebody he could laugh with rather than somebody who seemed lifeless and cold. Her though, she always smiled and talked to him, she sometimes got him food from the market that reminded him of home. She didn’t believe he was a bad person at all, while knowing the truth about him. She was his hope that he could be saved after all.

He was thinking about this as Alfred climbed up on his horse, breaking Hvitserk out of his thoughts for a second. Alfred had talked to him about marriage before he went to live in East Anglia, but that was still years and years away. Alfred wanted to make sure Hvitserk could rule confidently as a Christian king but also one who was happy and settled, with a wife to support him and heirs to secure his rulership. Alfred had mentioned he would find Hvitserk a suitable wife if he hadn’t found anybody suitable himself. He had time to ask her if she would marry him, he glanced back at her and found her eyes still on him.

‘Goodbye’ he mouthed to her, hoping Alfred didn’t see, she waved back and his insides wiggled, there was no way Alfred didn’t see that.

The servant had finished rearranging Alfred’s clothing as Hvitserk felt his checks burn, he reached over and rubbed his horse’s ears to avoid looking at either of them.

“Moveout” Alfred called.

Hvitserk followed behind Alfred’s horse, they would normally ride side by side and talk on any journey, but when they left or entered Wessex or any other place, Hvitserk’s place was behind Alfred. They were going to East Anglia, Alfred had been taking Hvitserk over there for the last two years, going out twice a year in different seasons. Hvitserk was to learn the lay of the land, all the settlements and villages, getting used to the town at Norwich which would one day be his home.

Once away from the villa, Hvitserk hurried up his horse until she was level with Alfred’s.

“You know you can always ask her” Alfred teased him “She’ll be a good wife for you, keep you grounded”

“Shut up” He grinned back at his godfather.

“Telling the king of Wessex to ‘shut up’ would generally be considered by many to be offensive.” Alfred stated

“So would kicking his arse.” Hvitserk muttered.

“That would be viewed as treason.”

They both laughed, there was no threat in Alfred’s words, he jested often with Hvitserk in a way he could never even with Aethelred, as long as they were alone, they would speak freely to each other. Hvitserk glanced behind him, the guards were slightly back, fanning out to cover ground.

“Did you bring it?” Hvitserk asked Alfred.

Alfred nodded.

Hvitserk smiled “Thank you”

This trip wasn’t just to see East Anglia, they had something else to do while out there. An hour into their journey, Alfred called his guards to announce they were taking a detour in the direction of Edington.

“We’re heading west” He called. None of his men questioned it, no doubt the king had his own reasons for going in the opposite direction to East Anglia. This detour would mean one less day in East Anglia, but it was a worthwhile journey, as for Hvitserk he grew quiet as they headed closer with each hour to the place he hadn’t visited since that day.

They didn’t have to go to battlefield itself, the destination they were heading to was slightly away from there, Hvitserk didn’t think he could bare seeing the place where Ivar had died, it was still too painful to return there.

Alfred stopped his horse and asked the men to stay back and wait for them. Hvitserk was grateful for that, it would give him some privacy and he wanted what he was doing here to remain as secret as possible. They rode down the bank, the area here hadn’t been touched since the day they laid Ivar to rest, the stones had remained untouched, but now they looked weathered, green moss had crept up the stones, making it look like the land was trying to reclaim it. All around, the birds sang and the breeze blew the leaves, creating a strangely peaceful place for a boy who hated peace. From Alfred cloak pocket he pulled out something he had retrieved before they had set off that morning.

A small box.

“I won’t be long” He told Alfred, who was standing back with the horses. He carried the box to the grave and kneeled down next to it.

“Hello Ivar. It’s been a long time and I’m sorry I’ve never come to see you, there just never has been the chance, a lot of things have changed for me, I guess you may know all of this, watching from…” He struggled to say Valhalla, the Pagan word now felt dangerous on his tongue. “…From your afterlife. I have a favour to ask you, if you aren’t too angry with me for not paying you a visit, can you look after my pendent for me. I can’t keep it around me, in case it’s found, It’s been hidden away for a few years now, but I think I’ll feel happier if I knew you had it. I’ll expect it back when we meet again, so don’t go losing it. I have something to tell you, there is a woman at Wessex and I’m thinking of asking her if she would consider marrying me, but I think she won’t as she’s got a better offer already, not in the way you think, I am not stealing anybody’s wife, I’m not our brother Bjorn. I guess I am just afraid to ask, the women I’ve loved have all died, but I think now is different.”

He took out the pendent from the box and kissed it, he then carefully fed it through a small gap between the rocks. Maybe it would reach Ivar, but mostly likely it would sit on the rocks that covered him. Either way, it was with his brother now, just like Alfred with his brother’s horse, he didn’t want the pendent just forgotten about in a box, he wanted it to be used, even if that meant returning it to Ivar to look after.

“I miss you. Not a day goes by when I don’t think of you. I still hurt because you are not here and the passing of the years doesn’t ease that.” he said, his voice shaking. “I know I no longer go by the name our mother gave me, but I am still your brother and I hope you’re not angry with me. If you can, can you tell our brothers and parents that they don’t have to worry about me. I found peace in my life, it was not the path I expected, but it’s the one that was given to me. My time here today has to be short, I’m meant to be in East Anglia, I will be king there one day, but nobody can know I’ve been here to see you, so I have to go now, I don’t know when or if I can come back here, but if I can, I will come. I promise you brother, I will come if I can. I will see you again brother, on that I am sure. I love you Ivar.”

He kneeled for a second more, before getting up, but as he did he caught sight of a beautiful woman with long blonde hair kneeling opposite him across Ivar’s grave and he gasped in shock. He leaped to his feet, opening his mouth in anger to demand to know why now? Why she would pick now to show herself when she had ignored him for so long when he was pleading for her to come.

She vanished before he could even speak. He glared at the spot Idunn had been a second before, rage cursing through him. So she and the other gods couldn’t come to help him all those times he desperately begged them too, but they could turn up uninvited when he was having a moment with his dead brother.

He then froze, he couldn’t react.

Alfred was watching behind him. Hvitserk couldn’t let on that he had seen anything, he trusted Alfred with his life, but he feared the consequences of Alfred knowing he had seen one of his old gods. Alfred would never let him return here if he knew, he would want to protect Hvitserk from them, even if that meant keeping him away from Ivar. Hvitserk rubbed his head, his hair was tickling his eyebrows, his head was spinning, he had never felt so angry in such a long time.

“You’re not a god, there is only one God, you’re just a devil” Hvitserk said to Idunn. She had once told him she was watching him in his life, then let her hear this. “I renounced you and all false gods, you made it really clear years ago that you were just using me, so stay away from me now.”

He touched the cross around his neck with his hand, he looked down once more at where Ivar lay and turned around and walked back to Alfred.

“Athelstan, you okay?” Alfred asked, his eyebrows slightly frowning in concern.

“There was an insect, it touched me” Hvitserk lied convincingly “I hate them.”

On the way to East Anglia, Alfred noticed Hvitserk was being quieter than normal, he would often be happy to see a change of land after being in the villa’s immediate area for so long, but right now he wasn’t talking, just riding along in silence. Alfred guessed he knew how Hvitserk was feeling after visiting his brother. As Alfred watched, he noticed Hvitserk was glancing around into the trees around them, as if expecting to see something.

“There’s nobody out there if you are worried we are being followed, the path is very safe and we have guards” Alfred reassured him

“It’s not that” Hvitserk said, but offered no explanation.

Alfred dropped it, yes it was definitely about visiting Ivar, Alfred knew first hand the longing of looking for somebody who was no longer here and hoping to see just a glimpse of them.

That night, they set up the royal tent a few miles away from the boarder to East Anglia, Alfred watched it going up as Hvitserk ate an apple nearby, he had perked up again in the hours since, and now he was talking to a few of the guards. Such things were unthinkable when he had first come to the villa, but now they talked so easy to each other. Hvitserk laughed at something they said, he remembered the day just a few years ago when he had the injured son of Ragnar Lothbrok brought to this very same tent to get him treatment for his wounds. He had been in shock, he barely spoke or noticed the physician sewing his skin together, he just shook. That day Alfred had tried to put on an act, to appear as stern as possible to speak with the son of Ragnar, he fully believed he had somebody like Ivar on his hands, before he got to know the real Hvitserk.

They had both healed in time, Alfred had felt less lonely, in the time before Hvitserk, he would often look around at the empty bathhouse where before his grandfather, father and brother would have been in the water with him. The empty table he sat at when Elsewith wasn’t hungry, once those seats had all been filled. The empty halls when the villa grew silent and nobody was there to walk with him. The way he would make small talk with the few nobles he could trust during time out of the villa on Sunday hunts because there was nobody his own age to talk too. He never knew how alone he had been feeling until Hvitserk filled in those gaps.

Those times Hvitserk needed a hug, Alfred had held him just as close, also needing that hug himself, but never showing it. Hvitserk knew Alfred’s inner struggles and fears, he had even sat with Alfred when he had been sick and reassured him he would be ok. Hvitserk in return had left behind the horrors of his past and found forgiveness for himself. One of the greatest joys of the last few years was watching the transformation before his eyes, from a young man who was lost and afraid, to the man Hvitserk was today. He had always believed he took Hvitserk for peace between their people, but in reality, maybe they had always needed each other. Alfred’s stomach rumbled very loudly for a period of time, he glanced down and rubbed it, hoping it was just normal noises and not his sickness in his gut again, anxiety tried to sneak up on him, but he smiled as he approached the guards as if nothing was happening.

“Let’s eat” He said.

After food, Alfred approached Hvitserk and together they went to their favourite area, the shallow river on the bank.

Out here, he could allow himself a moment to forget he was the king of most of England, he picked up a stone and tried to make it skip across the water like how Hvitserk had showed him many times, but no matter how much he tried they just sank.

“So close that time Your Majesty” Hvitserk grinned as Alfred’s latest stone hit the water with a splash that hit Alfred.

“Your tone when you say ‘Your Majesty’, Athelstan, is anything but sincere” Alfred rebuked him.

He could hear Hvitserk giggling.

“Turn your wrist,” Hvitserk called over to Alfred, he was walking in the water now, with his pant legs rolled above his knees, slipping and sliding on smooth rocks that threatened to land him into the water. In a way, it wasn’t only Alfred who found he could be himself here, looking at Hvitserk now, he looked anything other than the prince Alfred had taught him to be.

“Come in!” Hvitserk called over to Alfred.

Alfred glanced down at the cold water, it did not seem appealing at all and with the sun going down, it would only get colder. Hvitserk had persuaded him once before to enter the water and Alfred had slipped on the rocks. Looking up, he noticed Hvitserk’s eyebrows going up as he grinned, and Alfred knew he would not give up trying to get Alfred back in there. Alfred sighed, then took his shoes off and rolled up his own legs and hesitantly put his foot into the cold water, winching as he did. He heard Hvitserk cheer as Alfred slowly started moving through the water, feeling soft algae on his feet and smooth rocks to walk on. He was sure he could feel things moving around his bare legs and hoped it was just the current and not a fish. He slowly made his way closer to Hvitserk, who returned closer to help Alfred over some of the higher rocks.

Oh if Elsewith could see this now, or even his mother, they would be furious. The only light now came from the sun very low on the horizon and the moon above, with the odd torch held by a patrolling guard back on the bank.

They both looked up at the moon, it was very large tonight.

“My grandfather used to think the moon was a god” Alfred said.

Hvitserk thought for a second “Doesn’t that go against our religion?”

Alfred nodded “Yes, but so does keeping loads of statues of Roman gods and their accounts in the archives. My grandfather considered supping with the devil to get what he wanted” he smiled. “I miss him, everything I knew he taught me, however it made my brother feel pushed out as he was not permitted as much time with our grandfather as I was, however as I was so young, I didn’t notice. My grandfather would have me by his side always while my brother was being cared for by the nurse. He must have felt invisible among all the attention I got from my mother and grandfather, even I never questioned why he was never with me at important events, I just knew I would be there and he wouldn’t. As I got older, I felt resentful at my father for showing favouritism to Aethelred, he would always praise him, hug him, teach him swordsmanship. He never wanted to spent time with me, so I got resentful at him for leaving me out. Now I see my father was doing it out of kindness for Aethelred, my brother must have felt so neglected, by rights he was my father’s true heir, he was heartbroken to refuse the crown in my favour, he felt I had already taken everything from him, our mother, our grandfather. No wonder assassination had tempered him, he could be free of me at last.”

Alfred paused; his stomach moaned loudly. He still looked up at the moon.

“I feel guilty for my father, he once mentioned my real father and said I should be proud to have a father like him, he sounded so sad, like he believed I didn’t love him or think of him as my father too. I had to tell him that I was proud to have him as a father and I think he believed it for a little time, but then for his last few years, I was so angry at him and I showed it too, and then he died by a simple bee sting, all I remember is the crushing guilt after he died, all because I had been angry at him because he wouldn’t train me to fight with a sword.”

Hvitserk reached over and touched Alfred’s arm. He had never heard Alfred talk about his father before, but being resentful at your father was something he related too.

“I know how it feels to be angry at your father” He reassured Alfred. He hesitated for a moment even though he knew they were alone in the water. Talking of his family was one of the things Alfred had told Hvitserk never to do in case anybody other than the king overheard.

“Nobody here knows it, but my father actually left my mother when I was a still a boy. When my father came home, it was the first time we had seen him in over ten years. My brothers and I had grown up without him being around, part of the reason we’re good fighters is because we trained from an early age to be able to protect our mother. I hated my father and I wanted to kill him myself for leaving us all so unprotected. I was so angry at him. Life there isn’t the same as it is here, people are not always born into royalty, mostly it’s gained by killing the current ruler and their family. Anybody wishing to be the king of Kattegat only had to kill my mother, my brothers and me and they would be king. My mother wasn’t a fighter, she had never even used a sword in her life, she couldn’t defend us, so we learned how to protect ourselves and our mother. When my father came back, he asked us all to come here with him, I refused as did my brothers, except Ivar. I was still so angry at him, he wanted to talk to me, he just wanted to talk and I refused him. I didn’t say goodbye to him when I left to go with Bjorn on a trip, I wanted to hurt him by leaving without so much as a wave as he had done to me. He never came back and we never got to talk, I don’t know what he wanted to tell me. I really regret that now, he died thinking I hated him. I never got to say goodbye to him.”

They were both quite for a while, watching as the odd cloud went past the moon, the water was freezing Alfred’s feet, he put his arm over Hvitserk’s back.

“Your father watches over you Athelstan. Our fathers know we loved them, no matter what has been said and done.”

Hvitserk was silent, sometimes Alfred said these things with such certainly it was like he knew something, but Hvitserk did sense his father that day in the chapel, so maybe Alfred really did know something.

“Want to go back to land?” Alfred asked “My feet are freezing”

Hvitserk nodded, he reached over and put his arm under Alfred’s left arm to stop the king from slipping, he was not as surefooted in water as Hvitserk, his arm had healed in the years that had followed the battle, he helped Alfred back to land, both happy to be by a fire to warm up.

Hvitserk was the evidence to what Alfred had always believed, that the Northmen were not bad people, it was their environment and culture that made them the way they were. His nobles wanted him to put Hvitserk to death the moment he was captured, but Alfred knew he could work with him for peace. He was now an entirely different person from the wild eyed, bloody Pagan he used to be, but Alfred was sure of one thing, Hvitserk hadn’t really changed at all. The other Saxons around the villa were convinced the baptism had somehow ‘fixed’ him, but Alfred knew it didn’t work like that. Alfred was sure Hvitserk would have walked around his home with the same leaps and jumps he did around the villa, he would have given his brothers the same smiles and hugs he now give Alfred. He would have talked good natured to the local people as he did to the staff in the villa. Hvitserk hadn’t changed, it was the environment that had changed around him, now he lived under people who wanted peace, not glory and fame through bloodshed and raids. It took some time for his mindset to change to a more peaceful one, but eventually it did, he calmed down and lost the wish to kill once he had seen the results. It made Alfred certain, that if Pagans could be shown a more peaceful way of living, they would become peaceful people. This theory of Alfred’s was already in play, in the weeks that had followed the battle, Alfred had issued an ultimatum to be delivered to the Northmen living in East Anglia. Some of them had joined Ivar in the battle, those who did had fallen in the fighting. As for the Northmen who had remained, to them two options were given, they could join the Christian faith, or return to their homeland. Many had decided to stay, due to the land and their new homes, some had left, choosing the keep their gods.

Laying down in his bed later, Alfred looked over at Hvitserk. Their beds were close together enough that Alfred could see him in the dim candlelight. He was asleep, his arms hugging the furs as they always did. His nightclothes were loose around his neck, the silver crucifix resting just under his chin, inches from his mouth that was moving up and down in his sleep.

He remembered as a boy, he had been scared of the sons of Ragnar, fearful they would find him out in the swamp, he considered them monsters, but instead Hvitserk had ended up his godson. Alfred thought of how many times Hvitserk had hugged him spontaneously over the years, sometimes even grabbing him into an embrace from behind, to the horror of the guards nearby who were so fast to draw their weapons on Hvitserk until Alfred commanded them to stand down. How many times they had shared the bathhouse together, splashing each other in a moment when they had both forgotten themselves and Alfred then had to explain to an angry Elsewith why the floor was drenched when she used the building after them. How many times Hvitserk had comforted him to help him forget about the pains in his gut. He thought of all the hours of training Hvitserk had given him. He was so much faster than Ubbe, but not as strong. Ubbe had learned Alfred how to take on a strong opponent, but not one as fast as Hvitserk. No matter how much he tried with the training sword, he couldn’t catch Hvitserk in order to disarm him as he kept ducking, rolling and leaping out of Alfred’s way, only to attack again seconds later.

All the guards nearby turned to watch that day as both the prince and the king trained. It wasn’t until Alfred had met him, blow by blow by blow, that Hvitserk had eventually started to slow down with exhaustion, Alfred just had to keep pushing harder, longer, rubbing sweat out of his eyes. Eventually he managed to get the sword out of Hvitserk’s hands and held the training sword to his neck to show he had won. Both boys had been drenched with sweat, Hvitserk got to his feet and smiled and hugged Alfred. They had both praised the other but Alfred had secretly been glad he never had to face Hvitserk as an enemy, he knew a real battle with Hvitserk wouldn’t have ended well for him back then.

Alfred turned to look up at the roof of the tent, moving the covers around on his bed.

The times away from Wessex in East Anglia were always a refreshing break, Hvitserk enjoyed them, he would return twice each year, time and time again with Alfred, getting to know the people and the land better. In time he knew the land enough that it would be impossible for him to get lost. Each year the same guards would go with him and Alfred, these were to stay with Hvitserk in East Anglia when he lived here, so he would know his own guards well. One year he arrived with a wife, an ex-nun who had agreed to marry him. She would be their queen, in time their daughter too would accompany them on the trip, she was born as a princess of East Anglia. So was their son who was born a little time later. In time, Hvitserk was ready to leave Alfred, he knew all Alfred could teach him and he was much happier and settled with a small family. The day he left Alfred he give him a hug and they parted as family and allies, they would visit each other often and still see each other. After a few years of being king in East Anglia, they had another son, a prince born with the blue eyes of Ragnar Lothbrok. Wessex and East Anglia worked together to keep England safe from any Northman invasion, with East Anglia often acting as an early alarm for approaching vessels from Scandinavia, however as it became clear, these vessels were not bringing Vikings who sought a fight.

East Anglia, all leafy and green, the kingdom that would be gifted to Hvitserk one day. “Where are we Athelstan?” Alfred asked all innocently, but with a face that said otherwise.

“The county of Norfolk, heading to Norwick” Hvitserk said carefully, trying not to get both names mixed up

“And where are we not going?” Alfred asked with a small smile.

Hvitserk didn’t answer, but his giggle said everything, last winter they had come here and he went out to explore with a little of Alfred’s men and they had gotten lost by the falling snow and taken a wrong turn into Suffolk, to the south of Norfolk, they hadn’t realised until Norwich didn’t appear after a few hours of riding, they had to make camp as it got dark and returned to a panicked Alfred the day after.

“We are not going to Suffolk” Alfred answered his own question.

“Shush” Hvitserk laughed.

“I spent a full day looking for you” Alfred said lightly. “I thought I’d lost you”

“I thought you were going to have me throw into the dungeon” Hvitserk continued to laugh

“The thought crossed my mind” Alfred lied.

“You did tell me these trips were to explore the land and get to know it. I did” Hvitserk said back with a shrug as the town of Norwich came into sight.

“We shall explore Suffolk in the autumn” Alfred promised.

They had arrived. The settlement here reminded Hvitserk of Kattegat in a way, here the royal residence was in the corner of the town, but opened to a market in a large square. The town had so much greenery and gardens. Loads of houses stretched outwards, with farming areas. It had its own large church and royal buildings, leading out of the town were green hills where you could see the sea in the distance. This was going to be his home one day, these people his people. They all came out to see them both, King Alfred and their future king, Prince Athelstan.

The Northmen there knew who he was, they knew he was Hvitserk Ragnarrson, however they all kept their reactions hidden as another son of the legendary Ragnar Lothbrok came before them as they too had to renounce their past lives, they knew he had too. They were all keeping their past lives hidden as it wasn’t who they or he was anymore, but the way their eyes flickered to Hvitserk excitedly said otherwise. The Saxons there did not know who he was, to them he was just Prince Athelstan of Wessex, the young royal who will be their king one day and already they were accepting of him, he was both kind and approachable.

[countessofravenclaw]

Like the Red Rose blooms in the Oxford Garden: Chapter thirteen

Sometimes when your heart breaks… it feels like there is no way to fix it. No matter what you try. All the memories get left behind as something unfinished… But maybe, there is to way to fix it, A second chance. Some way to finish the story you two started writing because it was never the end, but just a part of the story… even if you have to travel far to achieve it.

Can I go where you go? Can we always be this close?

“Thank you,” Nina hung up the phone and walked to the living room where Gastón was on his computer. 

“Who was it?” he asked her. 

“My editor,” Nina sat down on the couch next to him, “Just checking that everything is well.”

“And? Good news?”

“It is,” Nina nodded while smiling nervously, “The publishing date is… it’s the 15th. Released in both England and Latin America.” 

“I’m so proud of you.” Gastón took her hand. 

“I can’t believe that this is actually happening,” Nina shook her head, “A real publishing house is publishing a book that I wrote… it’s madness.”

“Or you are just really good author,” Gastón looked at her amused, “Which I know that you are.”

“I should already be immune to your flattering by now,” Nina rolled her eyes, “What if no one’s gonna read it?”

“Someone will. I know it, and let's not pretend that Luna won’t ransack a bookstore and buy every copy they have.”

“That is very likely,” Nina laughed, “Let’s just talk about something else, before I get overwhelmed with nerves. Talk to me about anything.”

“Okey,” Gastón shrugged, “There actually is something. Have you noticed that James has been acting weirdly?”

“Not really,” Nina shook her head, “But I haven’t seen him in a while. What do you mean?”

“Exactly that,” Gastón pointed out, “I haven’t seen him that often anymore either. It has been almost five years, but it has never been like this. It has been going on for a few weeks now. Every time I try to ask him, he makes some excuse.”

“Maybe he’s just busy.”

“Maybe,” Gastón stared at the wall for a moment, “But with what, I’m not sure. He’s done with his thesis. I read most of it. Oh well, maybe I am just overthinking. We’re graduating in four months now, maybe it’s just natural to grow apart a little bit.”

Everyone was going their separate ways now. Oliver was with Flor. Gastón was pretty sure that, they were going to move back to France in a year or two. Jacob had already graduated and was working in a small promising start-up and allegedly seeing some girl he worked with. Marlee and Ariana were also doing well, both settling in at London and looking for work. Nina and he were moving back to Buenos Aires once Nina graduated in a year.

“Well, how about we just stop overthinking things—” Nina laughed and got up from the couch. “—and go eat. We should get outside of these four walls.” 

*

“I mean, I’m not sure how good of chance he actually has.” Gastón kept talking as they were walking towards the restaurant they had chosen. “Don’t tell Matteo I said this. Maybe it’s good for him to lose for once. He can always try again.”

“Why would I tell Matteo?” Nina wrapped her hands around his arm. “I am on your side, by default, plus I agree. You have heard the numbers he is competing against.”

“I wasn’t fan of all of them, but couple were definitely better than his. Especially the one by the black-haired girl, Caviglia or something.”

“Yeah, I really loved that one, but we just have to wait and see. As they are hosting the Eurovision, Italy definitely wants to have the best candidate possible, and it might not be Matteo at this stage—” Nina’s eyes fixated on something further up the street. 

A tall dark-skinned man turned a block about 200 meters away from them, with a woman with caramel skin and chocolate brown hair. 

“Is that James?”

“It is,” Gastón squinted his eyes.

“Who’s the girl?”

“No one I know,” Gastón looked at Nina and then back at James and his mysterious companion. “But this sure answers some questions. I can’t believe it, should have guessed.” He gripped Nina’s hand tighter as he started walking forward faster, “Come on.”

“You’re trying to catch up with them?” Nina tried to quicken her step to keep up with Gastón. She had not been blessed with the long legs he had.

“Absolutely,” Gastón grinned as he kept walking, “You remember how they came at us? You think I’m just gonna let this slide? James!!”

It clearly was James, as he stopped in his tracks as he heard his name and looked at their direction.

“What are you doing here?”

“We literally live here,” Gastón responded after he and Nina had been able to catch up to them. 

“Yes,” James seemed to start to grasp the situation, “I suppose you do.”

“James,” the girl turned toward him. She had a very sunny, but quite low register, voice, “What's going on?”

“Right, yeah,” James clearly hadn’t prepared for this, “These are my friends, Gastón and Nina.”

“Really? Well, that's splendid!” The girl's expression brightened up, “It’s so great to meet you. I have heard of you so much.”

“Is that so?” Nina let Gastón do the talking. He seemed to be enjoying this way too much, “Thats great… I gotta say, unfortunately, we have never heard of you.”

“I know.” The girl rolled her eyes, looking at James. 

“Uh, yes,” James started speaking again, “This is Isabel, Isabel Davidson. We…uhm…she’s…”

“We were just going to eat. You could join us.” Isabel clearly was socially quite confident. 

“Oh noh, we wouldn’t want to intrude on a… date?” Nina opened her mouth. 

“It’s not a date… exactly.” 

“It’s my lunch break and I was away for the weekend, so we’re more just catching up, so I wouldn’t call it a proper date,” Isabel continued, “Please join us. I’d love to hear the outside perspective on this lad.”

***

“So, you had the same major as James?” Isabel asked as they were sitting down at the restaurant.

“Yes,” Gastón answered. He was still quite flabbergasted that James’ odd behavior had mounted up to him seeing a girl, but it was great. There was no reason why he should have been alone. “We met during our first week, in 2018. People who get through freshmen hell together, often stay together. You should have seen him and electromagnetism.”

“Yeah, that never became my friend.” James laughed, “Gastón got me through a lot of courses.”

“And you were a literature major? The one who has written a book?” Isabel asked Nina. “There were like six or seven of you that James had told me about. Trying to match names with faces.”

“Yes, I am,” Nina smiled, “I came here a year later than others, but I have been well taken care off. The book is not out yet.”

“There has been six to eight of us, depending on the time we’re speaking about.”

“Oh, it’s my mother,” Isabel got up from the table as her phone started ringing. “I’ll be right back.”

“Well…” Gastón turned to James after Isabel had gone, “This is what you’ve been so mysterious about?”

“You’re not the one to talk about mysteries, especially about girls,” James eyed Gastón while sipping his drink.

“Fair enough. Although, that was years ago,” Gastón rolled his eyes. James or anyone probably was never going to let his and Nina’s deception go. It would probably never die, even during their grandchildren’s day.  “But, how long has this been going on?”

“A month, maybe six weeks,” James shrugged his shoulders, “We met by chance, she’s a daughter of Mom’s old friend, but we never really knew each other before. I was going to tell you all…after the graduation.”

“That’s in four months.”

“I know, I just wanted to wait until it was serious.”

“Well, is it?” Gastón put his drink down.

“I think it’s getting there,” James smiled, “I really like her.”

“She seems very sweet,” Nina noted, “I think everyone else would love to know about this too.”

“Ariana and Marlee will eat her alive,” James protested, “You know they don’t think us very eligible.”

“They didn’t do that to Flor.”

“Because she was your friend.”

“I’m back!” Isabel returned to the table, “Sorry, Mom had a lot to say.”

“Tell us, Isabel, what do you do?” Gastón asked, “You don’t go Oxford. If you did, James would have not been able to be this discreet.”

“Good heavens no,” Isabel laughed, “I went to York. I tried Cambridge, but couldn’t manage it. These ancient schools are way to intimidating. I have bachelors in marketing. I graduated last year, specialized in event marketing. I recently started working at an event-organizing firm. That's why I am back here, from the country. I want to focus on wedding planning, maybe have my own practice someday.”

“That sounds really great,” Nina started saying. 

Her phone dinged suddenly. 

"¿Quién fue?" Gastón turned to look at her phone.

"Solo Luna. Mira," Nina turned the phone toward him to he could look. Luna had sent her a string of pictures where she and Matteo were making stupid faces. She was asking Nina to pick one in the text. "Deben estar muy aburridos. ¿Quieres elegir?"

"Seguro." Gastón took the phone and scrolled through the pictures. "Matteo se ve extremadamente ridículo en este."

"Tienes razón." Nina laughed at the picture Gastón had shown her. 

“Better get used to this,” James’ annoyed voice sounded across the table, “Couples can be annoying, especially when they have their own secret language.”

“You were the Argentinians?” Isabel exclaimed, “I didn’t realize it before, how could I not?”

“We hide it pretty well,” Gastón chuckled, “We’re both from Buenos Aires, even when, I wasn’t born there.”

“That’s so fascinating,” Isabel smiled, “I have never actually met anyone from Latin America, ironically.”

“Ironically?”

“I’m actually half Argentinian, half Mexican, or that's what the DNA test told me,” Isabel explained, “I’m adopted, from birth. Lived my whole life in London and definitely don’t speak any Spanish.”

“Never too late to learn.”

“I mixed it up, because I remembered that someone from one couple was Italian…”

“That’s Flor, Oliver’s girlfriend,” James explained, “They know her and that actually was their doing. She was half Argentinian, half Italian.” 

“We were actually just telling James that the others would love to know about you too,” Gastón noted. 

“Don’t I know it,” Isabel rolled her eyes playfully, “but he just likes to be so dam private.”

***

“I’m back!” Gastón yelled from the door.

“How did it go?” Nina walked up to him at the entry. 

As his graduation was in two weeks now, Gastón had had a job interview for the next year. He had had other ones too, but the position for Renishaw was actually the one he wanted. 

“Pretty well,” Gastón shrugged, “I mean I have been there for four summers as an intern, so they know me… so I guess I am allowed to be optimistic.”

“You definitely are,” Nina smiled at him, “I’ll be surprised if they let you go after a year. Anyone would be happy to have you in their team.”

“If they don’t, I’ll just have to sneak away then,” Gastón looked at her before placing his hand on her waist, tugging her forwards, “Now kiss me.”

“Of course,” Nina laughed as she wrapped her arms around his neck—

—then Gastón’s phone started ringing. 

“I should really start putting this on silent,” Gastón sighed, frustrated, as he took his phone out of his pocket. “It’s the Renishaw people.”

“That was fast.” Nina raised an eyebrow, “Answer it.”

“Hello?” Gastón put his phone to his ear and Nina looked at his expression. It didn’t really change, she couldn’t really tell if it was bad or good news. 

“So?” She questioned after Gastón hung up after a moment. His expression still didn’t give anything away.

“I got the job.” Gastón finally said. 

“They couldn’t tell you that when you were there?” Nina shook her head, “Only to call an hour later?”

“Maybe they like the suspense?” Gastón shrugged dismissively, but Nina could see that he was smiling. “Well, that’s settled.” 

“You’re allowed to be happy,” Nina wrapped her arms back around his neck, “I’m so proud of you.”

Then Gastón's phone started ringing again. 

“You better turn that thing off after you have taken that call,” Nina had to detach herself off him, again, “I have other plans.”

“I have no intention standing in the way of those plans,” Gastón replied with a suggestive tone, “But I guess I have to take this first…Huh, it’s an unknown number.”

“At least it’s not Flor again,” Nina noted humorously, “Who else from our past, who we don’t talk to, could be calling you?”

“As long as it’s not your ex-boyfriend.”

“Just answer the phone.”

“Okay,” Gastón laughed and pressed the answer button. “Hello! Who’s this… Oh. Sí, soy yo. Gastón Perida. ¿Quién era este, otra vez?”

Nina furrowed her brow as Gastón swapped languages. The call was coming from Argentina. From whom? 

“Gracias. Ha sido un honor. Lo tendré en cuenta." Nina had walked back to the living room and left Gastón to talk his phonecall on the entryway. He seemed to be finishing up after a while as he was walking towards her. 

“Who was it?” Nina sat on the couch, “Someone from home?”

“Kind of,” Gastón nodded, “It was a representative from the Castillo Corporations.”

“What is that?” The word Castillo Corporations sounded vaguely familiar, but she couldn’t pinpoint where she had heard it.

“It’s an environmental construction company in Buenos Aires,” Gastón explained, “It headlines all kind of projects at North America. It’s really successful.”

“What did they want with you?” 

“Thats the thing,” Gastón sat next to her on the couch, “They offered me a job… or well, didn’t offer, but wanted to set up an interview so they could offer me a job.”

“How did that come about? You didn’t apply there.” Nina had beta read all of Gastón’s applications. She had a better eye for typos than he did. 

“I didn’t,” Gastón responded, “Apparently, they have this “college recruitment” program where they ask for recommendations from faculties all over the world for graduating master students.”

“And you got recommended?” Nina questioned again. A small amount of dread started growing somewhere deep inside her. If he went back to Buenos Aires…

“Apparently,” Gastón shook her head, “I mean I don’t know who they asked, but apparently, I was their pick. Kind of surprised, I am not the Valedictorian.”

“I’m not.” Nina looked down, “What did you tell them?”

“That it was a huge honor, nonetheless. I said that I’d think about it and come back to them.” Gastón responded, “To be more formal than flat-out saying no.”

“Why would you say no?” Nina asked.

“Because I’m not going back to Buenos Aires.” 

“Why not?”

“Because that’s not our plan,” Gastón said, while looking at Nina quizzingly, “It’s to me take a job here and you to graduate and we’ll go back after that.”

“I can’t hold you to that,” Nina grabbed his hands, “Especially if things change, and you have to go…”

“Nina, I’m not going anywhere without you,” Gastón gripped her hand firmly, “I already made that mistake once. It’s not worth it.”

“But this is an amazing opportunity.” Nina couldn’t believe that this was happening again. For a moment she was back being 17… but hadn’t universe already proven that they were not meant to be apart? They were supposed to get married, have a family, grow old together… “You can’t miss it because of me. You’d never be here if you’d have done that before.” 

“This is not me deciding my life’s direction. Choosing the university is different,” Gastón continued, “This is just a job offer, well not even that, an opportunity for one. And I already have a job here.”

“But… It’s a really prestigious company,” Nina tried, “It would be a huge chance for you.”

“I know what the company is like, and yes, not everyone is getting that chance, but it’s not the only one on the planet. Renishaw is a very formidable company too, it’s not like I am downgrading. If I want to work for Castillo, I can apply there when we do go back. At that time, I have a good CV with experience, not just from summer internships, and references. You know the saying: that if you graduate from Oxford, you’re never out of work again, and it’s not like I need to start saving for retirement.” He cracked a small smile, “I won’t be out of work whatever happens. Mom and Dad have connections, I’d rather not use them, but if it comes to that, I won’t have any shame.” Gastón looked Nina straight into the eyes, “We were taught about this… you, frankly, were not. So, trust me, I’m not giving up anything.”

“You sure?” Nina looked back at him, “You won’t regret it?”

“If I do, which I doubt, I know my mind, I can live with it. It’s one year, I’ll live… and honestly, it’s a good opportunity, on paper. I don’t really know what it is going to be like there, so it can’t be something I have dreamed of.” Gastón noted, “If I am being fully honest, I think I want to get my first experience of “real work” at a place I know, instead of some grand company overseas, just because it’s grand. And I already said, I‘m not leaving you, or do you want me to?”

“Of course not,” Nina shook her head violently, “I—I don’t think I can do any of this without you.”

“I know you could,” Gastón brushed her hair behind her right ear, “But you don’t have to… as long as you won’t go on sending more applications on my name now.”

“Oh, no no no no, NO.” Nina looked horrified, “If that happens, you personally need to make sure that I am arrested and convicted—”

Nina started rambling and Gastón knew that there was only one way to shut her up. He swiftly pulled her closer and kissed her. 

“I love you. This is how it’s supposed to go.”

“As long as you’re sure.”

***

“Wait! Are you sure it’s not this door?” Luna was skipping ahead of everyone else as they approached the apartment building. 

“No, it’s the third door,” Matteo responded as he, Simon and Ambar caught up with Luna. 

“You sure?” She tugged Matteo’s arm. “I don’t want to be late! What if it’s not the door?”

“Luna, we have been there about zillion times at this point,” Matteo sighed, “You’d think I remember a door?”

“I’m with Matteo,” Ambar noted, “Surprisingly…It is the third door.”

Ambar shut their argument down by pressing the buzzer… and after a minute, the door opened. 

“Ah, I was right.” Ambar smiled coolly and grabbed Simon’s arm, “Come on. Oxford won’t appreciate if were late for the graduation.”

Luna and Matteo had planned for months to come and stay at England, so they could go to Gastón’s graduation and Simon and Ambar had decided on the last minute to join them. They were meeting up with Nina at their apartment and drive to the graduation from there. 

“OMG!!! There is my favorite author!” Nina opened the door wearing a royal-blue dress and Luna squeezed her into a tight hug. As both Nina and Gastón had been so busy at grad school, they had been unable to visit since last summer. “I’m so freaking proud of you!!!!”

“Thank you,” Nina laughed after Luna released her, “I have missed you.” 

“Not as much as I have missed you,” Luna jumped on her heels, “I have been dying to tell you in person about how amazing it was! I have read it ten times already. You are going to be famous!”

“That’s getting a little too far ahead,” Nina shook her head. 

“I wouldn’t say so,” Matteo came to hug Nina as well, “She almost broke her suitcase trying to fit the book in there, so she could get you to sign it.” 

“You should have said so,” Nina looked at Luna, “I can give you a copy later.” 

“That being said, I loved the book as well,” Matteo continued, “but I sincerely hope that this doesn’t mean I will lose you?” 

“No,” Nina shook her head, “I won’t make a living out of one book, at least yet.” 

“Luna forced all of us to read it,” Ambar hugged Nina on her turn, “Which wasn’t hard. I loved it too. We’ll know you go far, especially once you have your degree.”

“I’m so glad you made it,” Nina hugged her back, “Gastón will appreciate it too.”

“The decisions made in whim are our specialty,” Ambar eyed Simon with a smirk. “I can’t wait to see how the Oxford graduations are like. Surely much more traditional whatever we have in Buenos Aires, even if my school is the most old-fashioned place in the planet.”

“How long do you have left?” Ambar was the only one, besides Nina and Gastón who was still in school. She was almost done with her law degree. Matteo, Delfi and Jazmin had finished with bachelors a few years ago. Jim and Yam had done splendidly at their art school, and Luna had only gone to the community college for a year. 

“I’ll take couple summer courses, but about six months,” Ambar responded, “So I won’t take your thunder. The hardest part for me is the bar…”

“Let’s not talk about that,” Simon hugged Nina and put his hand over Ambar’s shoulder. “Were here to celebrate and relax.”

“Gastón’s gone already right?” Matteo asked Nina. 

“Yeah, he went with James,” Nina responded. “So, we can have the car.” 

Nina picked the keys up from the drawer. “Matteo, can you drive? So, I don’t need to start changing my shoes.”

“Of course,” Matteo nodded and caught the keys Nina threw at him. “Lets go.”

*

“Here?” Luna watched from the back seat as Nina directed Matteo to park in a parking lot in front of a big and old-looking building. 

“Yes,” Nina responded, “The degree ceremony is held at the oldest auditorium. We never had any classes here, but I’m sure we’ll find there. 

“We’ll follow your lead.” Simon remarked as Matteo shut off the car and they started getting out.

“You are sure Gastón wants to get rid of this?” Matteo asked as he got out of the car, “It runs so smoothly. I’m jealous.”

“He doesn’t want to ship it over,” Nina explained while looking around, “But what do I know? Ask him… Hmmmmm, they said they’d be here.”

“Maybe they’re late?” Matteo suggested. He also was looking around. Luna had no idea who they could be looking for. 

“You know them. They would never be late.” 

Suddenly both Nina and Matteo dashed to the left. As Luna followed them with her eyes, she saw them meet up with a couple in their 40s and hug them. Luna was sure she didn’t know them, but they somehow looked eerily familiar. She couldn’t put her finger on it, but it was like she had seen them before… 

“Who are they?” Simon asked Luna. 

“No idea,” Luna shook her head. She really should have known since Matteo obviously did…

“Isn’t it obvious?” Ambar shook her head next to them. “You really think that Gastón’s parents would have missed his graduation?”

“Oh,” The realization hit Luna at once. The Blake graduation! That’s where she had seen them before. She had seen them talking to Nina during Matteo and Gastón’s graduation.

“Of course, I shouldn’t assume that you Mexicans are very aware of two of the notable names in Argentina’s business, finance, and real estate world.” Ambar grabbed Simon’s arm and placed another on Luna shoulder. “Come on, aren’t you going to say hi? They’ll be Nina’s in-laws and surely you know what they mean to Matteo.”

Yeah, Luna did know that. Gastón and his family had always been like a second family to him. Matteo’s stepmother Sofia was Gastón’s mother’s best friend if Luna remembered correctly. Matteo and his dad’s relationship had gotten better over the years, but they were never going to be the bestest pals. Matteo was never quite as relaxed with him than he seemed to be now.

Ambar was basically pushing her as they were moving forward. 

“Have you grown taller?” The woman—who must have been Gastón’s mother—had her hands on Matteo’s arms in motherly manner. “We haven’t seen you in ages.” 

“I have been busy,” Matteo laughed, “I’m sorry.”

“We were rooting for you for the Eurovision in the Italian selection.” The man started speaking, “It was a shame.”

“Oh well,” Matteo laughed, “I prefer to think it was rigged.” 

“You can always try again.” 

“I know, maybe Nina can help me this time.” 

“It’s good to have artists in the family.” The woman spoke again, “Couple of my sisters’ girls are obsessed with your book. We haven’t even told them, might I mention. They are going to flip once they find out that we know you.”

“Really?” Nina was asking as Luna, Ambar and Simon reached them.

“Oh, there you are!” Matteo grabbed Luna’s hand. “Isla, Marco, this is my girlfriend, Luna Valente. I can’t believe you have not met before. Luna, these are Gastón’s parents Isla and Marco Perida, without whom I would have been lost in my teenage years.” 

“It’s amazing to meet you,” They both hugged Luna, “Sofia has been talking about you a quite a lot. She says that you’re a ray of sunshine.”

“She is,” Matteo nodded. 

“Now that Gastón has been here, we have not had an excuse to see you,” Isla smiled at Matteo. “We definitely have missed out boys in an empty house.”

“How about we agree that we don’t need excuses. We’ll come to dinner at some points once were back,” Matteo suggested.

“You didn’t need to give the key back, we ought to get it back to you—”

“Sorry to interrupt.” Ambar said, before offering her hand for a handshake, “Hi.”

“Great to see you again, Ambar.”

“Great to see you too,” Ambar smiled, before my gesturing to Simon. “This is my boyfriend, Simon Alvarez. He’s from Mexico, so you have never met.”

“Well, it’s a pleasure to make acquaintances.” Isla and Marco shook Ambar’s and Simon’s hands, “But we should get going. Nina, do you know where we are going?” 

“I think so,” Nina nodded, and Isla wrapped her arm around her shoulder as they started walking toward the biggest building. 

***

Gastón was sitting in his seat in the third row, watching the last of the people walk on the stage and receive their diplomas. 

If he was being completely honest, he wasn’t completely sure why he had bothered with the degree ceremony at all. It was old fashioned, the hats and ropes were pretty stupid looking and the ceremony itself was as borings as it had been at Blake. It didn’t mean anything. He already had all the credentials in the system, the paper diploma was just a formality. 

On the other hand, the formal ceremony was just that, a grand finish to what had been lots of work. It was a celebration, and the British loved their ceremonies. Marlee, extremely surprisingly, was a bit of a royalty fan. Not like a fan of the monarchy or the system, but fan of the history of it all and the clothes. She had made them all watch all the possible weddings they could find on YouTube and was very excited to the prospect that there were very possibly two coronations in their lifetime. Gastón himself wished that he and Nina were able to be out of the country before any of that started happening… 

James was one of the last ones to get the diploma, that's what you got when you were named Wilson. After that, the Dean spoke some more, and the valedictorian gave a speech. Gastón had not been picked, but he absolutely didn’t mind that. He had been one of the tops of the class, but he didn’t need high praise from it. It had gotten him where he wanted to go, that was enough. James had also not been that far behind him in the grades, which he was extremely proud of him. 

“...so that being said, it has been the great five years with all of you. We expect great things from this class. Ladies and gentlemen: The 2022 graduating class from the faculty of Science of technology from University of Oxford!”

Everyone threw their hats into the hair. 

And just like that, it was over. Five years…all building up to this… it was all over now. The feeling was very strange… happy but also really bittersweet. Truth be told, the whole of Oxford was a bit bittersweet. He had had an amazing three years with Nina there, but in the first two years… you couldn’t say he had been completely happy. He still wasn’t completely sure if coming to Oxford had ever been the right choice or if he would have done things differently if he had known…

Maybe that was the point. You couldn’t know what happened in life and you for sure couldn’t control it. It wasn’t something to dwell on. He had everything he wanted right now—almost everything. A girl he loved more than anything, a masters degree in a subject he was really passionate about, and a job with great future prospects. What more could you really want…

“I think we just did it!” James jumped on his back as everyone started scattering.

“Don’t rip the rope,” He laughed. “But we did just do it.”

“Never thought we could manage it,” James continued, “But were free! I feel like I could fly!”

“As long as you won’t try it.”

“Congratulations!” Isabel seemed to have found them as she suddenly hugged James from behind. “Your parents are waiting. Where are all your people?” She asked Gastón.

“I’ll have to look for them.” Gastón answered. Finding everyone would a quest of his own, but he was sure he could manage. If he couldn’t locate them, he could always text Nina to ask Luna make some noise. 

“Then what are you doing here talking to us?” James exclaimed, “Go to Nina!”

“Well, aren’t you considerate?” Gastón joked. 

“I wonder why?” Isabel smiled at James, “Go. He’ll talk to you later.” 

“See ya!” Gastón started walking toward the exit of the auditorium. 

Nina had sent him a picture to show the view they had had, but that didn’t help anymore since they had probably already exited the auditorium. 

He pushed the door open and scanned the people. He finally saw Nina at the corner if the hall. 

Their eyes met and she met him halfway as he had started walking toward her. 

“There she is.”

“Gradul—” 

He was going to let her finish what she was saying, but he had to kiss her first. 

“You’re not letting me get even a word in?” Nina asked after Gastón had put her down after twirling her in the air. 

“Not before I kiss you.” Gastón shook his head laughing, “Go ahead.”

“Congratulations,” Nina smiled at him, “I’m so proud of you.” She hugged him and he picked her off her feet again.

“Okay, okay,” A snarky voice came from behind them, “Is no one else allowed to gratulate you?” 

“Shut up Matteo,” Gastón rolled his eyes as Matteo tackled him into a hug as well. 

“Well done, you’re officially smart now,” Matteo kept teasing, “Love the costume.”

“I actually really like it,” Luna came from behind Matteo with Simon and Ambar. “I have always wanted to skate in a rope, but apparently, it’s a health risk. Anyways, gratulations from me too!”

“I loved the ceremony,” Ambar said as it was her turn to hug Gastón, “Even Simon stayed awake. I’m so glad we made it.”

“I’m glad you did too.”

“Oh, this has been great,” Matteo started speaking again, “But I think we’re about t-minus ten seconds away from being murdered if we take any more of your time. Go talk to your parents before we all get killed.”

Matteo turned Gastón around, toward where his parents had hung behind, surprisingly.

“We’re so proud of you!” He was squeezed tightly by both of them. “Look how smart you look.”

“You’re getting this for five minutes,” Gastón said while eyeing the stupid rope, “So take all pictures you want now. Dad, you have a camera, right?” 

“Of course, I do,” His dad nodded, “You know how your mother is like.”

“You two are never going to be able to have an alliance against me,” Isla rolled her eyes at her husband and Gastón, “It’s not like you are going to graduate from university again. You’re so…”

“Mom, please don’t say: I’m so grown up,” Gastón shook his head, “I look the same as I did three years ago.”

“I would like to disagree. Anyways show us the diploma.”

“There.” Gastón handed the paper to his parents. Nina had appeared to his side, and he wrapped his arm around her. 

“What are you going to do with this?” His dad asked after they had finished looking at the diploma.

“I don’t know,” Gastón shrugged, “I have the digital version already…I’m not giving it to you if that’s what you’re asking. I don’t trust you to not put it on the fridge or something.”

“Be nice.” Nina looked at him disapprovingly.

“It has been 23 years,” Gastón laughed, “Why start now?”

*

“I can’t believe you hid it so well.” 

Nina and Gastón were laying on their couch at their flat. Simon and Ambar had vanished somewhere, and after the proposal, everyone had agreed to give the newly engaged couple some privacy. Luna and Matteo had gone back to their hotel after dinner… the excitement of the day had clearly been enough for everybody.

“I didn’t actually,” Gastón replied as he played with Nina’s hair. “It was only for about 24 hours. You’re telling me you didn’t pick up anything wrong when I took the camera with us?”

“Oh I did,” Nina laughed, “But I couldn’t have guessed that you were helping Simon to propose. When are you editing the photos?”

“Probably tomorrow.”

“Tell me when. I want to see the pictures.” Nina replied, “It was smart to get James and Isabel to help.”

“Thanks to James, we have a wedding planner in our midst, so had to capitalize on it.”

“Well, it was beautiful.” Nina nodded.

“Good to know,” Gastón smirked, “I’ll have to do better than that.” 

He leaned down and kissed Nina. She quickly wrapped her arms around his neck pulling him closer, while laying down on the couch. 

“What?” She asked perplexed as he suddenly stopped going along with it. 

“Actually, there is something I need to ask you.” It was something he had been wondering for a while now. 

“What is it?” Nina looked at him worried.

“Okay, this may sound a bit strange—” Gastón started,”—but, your parents are divorced…and you have told me that you don’t remember a time when they ever were happy.”

“Yes.” Nina nodded, still quite confused. 

“And I can’t pretend that I know how that’s like,” Gastón continued, “Mom and Dad have been married for 24 years at this point. I guess what I am trying to get to is that, you don’t have a very positive experience when it comes to your parents’ marriage, but you aren’t against marriage. Why is that?”

“Huh? I have never really thought about that.” Nina’s face turned quite pensative. “You’re right, that I’m not against it. Neither Mom or Dad have ever married again, but I definitely would have been supportive if they had. I have never wanted them back together, they work best apart, more distance the better. And Mom is with Mora now…not that they are getting married. I guess it’s really because, even if their marriage failed disastrously and they didn’t handle it well, at all, still, they never have given the impression that they regret it. Dad once told me that, they were in love and it lasted as long as it lasted, and the good thing that came of it was me. I guess that is the reason. I can’t let my view or what I want out of life be defined by what my parents did and how they handled it.”

“Well, I’m glad about that,” Gastón smiled at her, “I don’t know what I would do if you didn’t exist.”

“Good, you got your answer now,” Nina crawled back onto his lap, “Are you going to kiss me or do we go straight into the bedroom?”

Later that night after the sun had gone down Gastón was staring at the ceiling while lying in bed. Nina had already fallen asleep on his left. 

His thoughts kept him occupied. 

He had made the decision, he was gonna do it. Not that it had been hard, he had known she was the one since he had been 18. But now was the time. Maybe not yet, maybe not soon. He felt like he had to let Nina finish her last year first, but he had decided. So, it was time to put the wheels in motion. 

He got out of bed, detaching his arm around Nina as discreetly as he could and opened his computer on the desk that was opposite the bed. 

He opened his email and addressed a new message to Maria Aguirre. She was a famous jeweler back home, who had really gotten herself out there after releasing a collection inspired by her battle with HIV.

She had been one of the first friends Mom had made after they had moved to Buenos Aires. She always loved to complain how she had been snubbed over for being Gastón’s God-mother as they had not known each other when he had been born. Maria had been a struggling artist back then. She had made Gastón pretty much promise that if he was ever going to propose someday, she was going to make the ring and he was not going to break that promise. 

Gastón wrote: Hi! First of all, this is off the record. As far as Mom knows, we never had this conversation, don’t tell her. So, I’m in a need of an engagement ring in a year. When can we talk? This all needs to be secretive. No one can know.

“Gastón?” Nina’s voice came from the bed as soon as he had sent the email. “What are you doing?”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you up.” Gastón said quickly, “I just got an email from work.”

“At this time?” Nina’s voice sounded again, “They can wait until morning. Come back to bed.”

{}

The penultimate chapter is out!! Now we only have the finale. Can't believe its almost over. The start of this was like he mandatory Isabel acknowledgment as she has appeared in other works of mine, so I couldn't just ignore the fact that James is supposed to have a girfrined at this time. Her heritage gives some future potential, because she could be related to someone. Anyway, this story has been told exclusively from the points of view of both Gastón and Nina with interludes from both Matteo and Luna now. If someone was confused about the last part, Simon and Am bar got engaged a couple days after Gastón's graduation on the same trip. That's what they're talking about. You can read it fully in chapter 1 of ¡Sí! - La Trinidad del Amor. Also, given the way this chapter ends, most of you are probably expecting that the next chapter opens up with the proposal... Well... it won't. That's because it's already been written and published. Right here, it's in the same fic as the Simbar proposal

[readingoals]

I’m an Aussie librarian so I thought I’d add on a few recs too - a lot of these I haven’t read myself but they’re popular/recommended in my library. I’ve tried to include a mix of genres and also a number of indigenous authors.

The Dictionary of Lost Words by Pip Williams - Esme is born into a world of words. Motherless and irrepressibly curious, she spends her childhood in the ‘Scriptorium’, a garden shed in Oxford where her father and a team of dedicated lexicographers are collecting words for the very first Oxford English Dictionary. Esme’s place is beneath the sorting table, unseen and unheard. One day a slip of paper containing the word ‘bondmaid’ flutters to the floor. Esme rescues the slip and stashes it in an old wooden case that belongs to her friend, Lizzie, a young servant in the big house. Esme begins to collect other words from the Scriptorium that are misplaced, discarded or have been neglected by the dictionary men. They help her make sense of the world.

The Yield by Tara June Winch -  Knowing that he will soon die, Albert 'Poppy' Gondiwindi takes pen to paper. His life has been spent on the banks of the Murrumby River at Prosperous House, on Massacre Plains. Albert is determined to pass on the language of his people and everything that was ever remembered. He finds the words on the wind. (Winner of the 2020 Miles Franklin Award)

Jane Harper has a bunch of crime novels if that’s your thing. The Dry is maybe the most recognisable because it was adapted into a movie a couple of years ago.

Boy Swallows Universe by Trent Dalton - Brisbane, 1983: A lost father, a mute brother, a mum in jail, a heroin dealer for a stepfather and a notorious crim for a babysitter. It's not as if Eli's life isn't complicated enough already. He's just trying to follow his heart, learning what it takes to be a good man, but life just keeps throwing obstacles in the way - not least of which is Tytus Broz, legendary Brisbane drug dealer.

Empires by Nick Earls - Alaska, 2018, and Mike is a long way from home, nursing a wrecked knee and an unspoken grief, striking out into real estate and parenting his partner’s son. London, 1978, and Simon is an Australian fish out of water navigating adolescence during the Winter of Discontent, and drawn to an eccentric impresario next door. Washington, DC, 1928, and a retired US senator is interviewed about his time in Russia in 1916, and his mission to save a young heir to an empire. Vienna, 1809, and an Irish teenager on the run from the law takes refuge among composers as Napoleon besieges and shells the city. Hong Kong, 2019, and estranged brothers Mike and Simon reunite in midlife to face the secrets of the past, and reconnect in more ways than one.

The Hemsworth Effect by James Weir - It started with the Hemsworths. Now, Byron Bay local, Aimee Maguire, is about to lose everything because she can’t afford to pay the rent. Her engagement is also on an official time-out since her fiancé doesn’t know what he wants. The last thing she needs is a surprise visit from her micro-influencer niece looking to ‘build her brand’. 

Bila Yarrudhanggalangdhuray by Anita Hess - Set on timeless Wiradyuri country, where the life-giving waters of the rivers can make or break dreams, and based on devastating true events, Bila Yarrudhanggalangdhuray (River of Dreams) is an epic story of love, loss and belonging.

After Story by Larissa Behrendt -  When Indigenous lawyer Jasmine decides to take her mother, Della,on a tour of England's most revered literary sites, Jasmine hopes it will bring them closer together and help them reconcile the past. Twenty-five years earlier the disappearance of Jasmine's older sister devastated their tight-knit community. This tragedy returns to haunt Jasmine and Della when another child mysteriously goes missing on Hampstead Heath. As Jasmine immerses herself in the world of her literary idols - including Jane Austen, the Bronte sisters and Virginia Woolf - Della is inspired to rediscover the wisdom of her own culture and storytelling. But sometimes the stories that are not told can become too great to bear.

If you’re more into romance then Sally Thorne has The Hating Game and Second First Impressions

Sally Hepworth also has a bunch of novels that I think are contemporary fiction. The Mother In Law has been quite popular recently, as well as The Younger Wife.

Hi Em! So I’m kinda excited for the Booklr Reads Australian event even though I’m somewhat doubtful I’ll be able to join. However, I wanted to ask you for possible recs for it anyway. I know you’re the local YA and OzYA expert here on tumblr, but I was wondering if you’d have NA or adult fiction recs too from Australian authors? And good job organising the event, I hope a lot of people participate!!

aww that's okay, love <3 we are all much busier than we were the last time this challenge ran 😅

so, fun fact, but NA isn't really a thing here! Australian YA as a demographic tends to encapsulate stories set at university age as well as just high school. mostly 'cause we're a smaller market so divvying things up too much gets a bit laborious and makes it trickier for publishers and booksellers to market things

I do know a few books featuring characters in their late teens/early 20s but as for adult fiction recs, I'm not sure. I don't think I've ever read adult Australian fiction 😂 maybe someone else can chime in with some recs?

but for not-quite-NA recs, I'd suggest looking for:

Libby Lawrence is Good at Pretending by Jodi McAlister - a girl gets involved with her uni's theatre club and finds herself dragged into all the drama that that entails

Unnecessary Drama by Nina Kenwood - a girl moves into student housing to go to uni and immediately butts heads with one of her roommates, testing the only rule of the house - "No Unnecessary Drama"