#and i thought that was me i believed them and that became part of me

[shadowykittengladiator]

I disagree actually. I stand by my earlier words. Joker is not that important that a king would have to come from an another dimension to kill him. Joker didn't get ressurected that many times, there have been people that died and came back a lot more than Joker in DC canon. Including Jason, Bruce, Damian, Talia, Ra's, Superman, Superboy, the entire thing with the Black Lanterns really. It can't be because Joker killed many people either. There are people in both DC canon and earth history that killed a lot more than he did. Danny would need to visit a large number of people before he comes anywhere near Joker in that list.

I mean, let's be honest, we know why Danny is headcannoned to kill Joker a lot. Because people care about Jason Todd and wants him to get revenge. Never mind the fact that Jason doesn't want to kill Joker, he specifically wants Bruce to kill Joker. I mean I don't like Jason but I can still understand people who do. People in general disregard a lot in comic canons while writing fics, Which is,like, fine This isn't criticism by the way. It doesn't need to make sense in canon sense for it to be enjoyable. This is DC we are talking about after all. Comics are a mess.

Also I don't think Bruce would mourn Joker. Not even in the sense you talked about. Year 1 Batman might have given a thought or two, maybe felt pity for a second, that Joker wasn't able to change his life, before moving on with his life, completely forgetting him. But after Jason became the red hood in the timeline? No way. It's has been proven time and time again that Bruce wants the Joker dead, that he wants to kill him but is holding himself back due to his principles.

Just to be clear again, it is a bit hard to convey opinions in text. This is not criticism, don't come after me people. Overall, I enjoyed this discussion and the prompt.

By the way, if we are going with infinite realms being infinite, there must be other knights working for Danny. And with many people like Joker, Danny obviously can't go after them all. So instead;

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

He sends one of his knights. One of the inexperienced ones. Joker is after all, not as important as someone like Darkseid, who has been a thorn in Danny's side for some time now.

Batman is skeptical at first after all, when a knight in an armor appears and explains to him. A dead dimension? People Joker killed wanting revenge? Joker unbalanced life and death so much he must stand trial before the king? He doesn't believe it.

He sends word to Constantine, who confirms Infinite Realms exists and there has, in fact, been a new king but he doesn't know much more than that. A word to Captain Marvel confirms it's a death dimension and the new king is a good king. Marvel would know, he is friends with the new king, apparently. Diana confirms Joker might have been broken the balance and it is possible this might gather the attention of the king of the Infinite Realms.

Batman makes some more research after that but it is enough to him. The knight asked Joker to be delivered in a days time so Batman prepares to go Arkham Asylum only to find cave empty of Jason, who has been restlessly pacing while angrily muttering something.

He arrives at Arkham Asylum just in time to see Jason knock Joker out. He watches him for a bit before making himself known.

"Are you going to stop me?" His son asks. Batman doesn't answer. Instead he takes out a......... present tape?

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

"Is that the Joker?" The young knight asks them when they show up at the agreed time. He sounds bemused, seeing Joker wrapped like a present and bound with tape. But that wasn't the funniest part. Courtesy of Dick, Joker looked like a clown. And actual clown this time, with red nose and wig.

He also had various bruises from various people all over his face but nobody cared about that.

"We figured your king might like it." Dick answers as Nightwing.

The knight coughs and Bruce doesn't need to have perfect reading skills to know he is trying not to laugh.

The knight takes of his helmet and offers them a smile. He reaches out for a handshake. He couldnt be older then eighteen but that is not what Bruce focuses.

A gasp by his side, from Red Hood, makes him realize he is not hallucinating.

Bruce knows this boy. Like he knows the girl he failed to save because he couldn't solve Riddler's puzzle in time, or the girl that drowned in the sewers because Bruce wasn't strong enough, or the boy that was stabbed by his father because he he didn't want to join a gang, or the boy that froze to death the last time Dr.Freeze escaped Arkham, or the child that burned to death due to Firefly and to this day they don't know who they were.

He knows this boy. Aiden Miller. Got kidnapped by Joker. The clown told them they were on a time limit. Him and Jason, as Robin at the time, managed to find him in time, only to find Aiden's body completely brutalized. Joker played with them again. Aiden's parents were also killed in the attack. Bruce made sure the boy had a funeral for him.

He shakes the hand of the boy he couldn't save and watches as he takes the Joker. Bruce thought this Infinite realms was just another afterlife governed by a God. And it was. But it has to be more than that. This boy that died as a preteen grew up to a fine young man and came back to bring justice to his killer. Even if he was a ghost.

He needs to talk to Constantine and Marvel. See if they can help him join Jokers trial and get him and his family a seat on his execution. Jason's birthday was coming, his boy would appreciate it.

He wondered if this King of the Infinite Realms needed a lawyer for Jokers trial. He is Batman after all, and Batman was a master of many things.

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

Damn, I don't know how to write in English😮‍💨😑

DPxDC Legal Power

Batman: You can not punish the Joker

Batman: You are no judge, jury, and executioner

Danny Fenton, standing over Joker's beaten body: Actually, I am

Danny Fenton, raising the Creep Stick up: I am the High King of Infinite Realms, and this bitch has been resurrected more than once

Danny Fenton, smacking Joker like a piñata: With the use of a pool of some nasty smelling ecto, mind you, but it puts him under my jurisdiction nonetheless

Danny Fenton, smiling at Batman as Joker is wheezing and trying to crawl away: So I am the judge, jury, and executioner for him since I'm the highest power in a Realm where he is a denizen

Danny Fenton, catching the Joker by the ankle and dragging him back: And as the King, I hereby sentence him to death by a repetitive use of The Creep Stick over his whole body

Batman: ...

Red Hood, with a bowl of popcorn: Do you mind switching The Creep Stick for a crowbar?

[pandapetals]

Unexpected Visit

It's your first Christmas with Logan as a couple but someone unexpected shows up.

professor logan howlett x professor fem!reader - established relationship (y'all married), some fluff, teasing, no y/n used, no reader description, your an english professor, logan is a history professor - imagine days of future past logan with the white streaks in his hair, mentions of death, angst, trauma, christmas mentioned, parent issues

read on ao3 or find more parts for the series: here

a/n: I wrote this to go with the holiday special i’m going to post because i know alot of people struggle around the holiday season (myself included, not me trauma dumping in this).

As a kid, you’d always heard that the holidays were supposed to be magical—a time filled with warmth, laughter, and gifts under the tree. But growing up in a family that could barely keep food on the table, magic was a luxury you quickly learned to live without. Reality had come crashing down on you at a young age, stripping away any illusions of the "holiday spirit."

Coming to Xavier’s offered you a fresh start and a chance to build a new and hopeful life. You’d thrown yourself into your role as the bubbly, witty English professor, always armed with a quick quip or a smile that could disarm even the grumpiest students. And for the most part, it worked. Everyone believed the cheerful façade—everyone except Logan.

Even before you started dating, Logan seemed to see through the mask you wore. He’d often watch you with that quiet, penetrating gaze like he was peeling back each layer you’d put up to hide the parts of yourself you didn’t want anyone to see. He never pushed or pried, but something in his eyes made you feel like he knew.

When you finally became a couple, that unspoken understanding between you deepened. But you still hadn’t told him the whole story of your past or the truth of what the holidays dredged up inside you. And so, as Christmas approached, you kept your walls up, pretending everything was fine, even though this would be your first Christmas without your dad.

A few days before Christmas, the mansion was buzzing with excitement as everyone packed and prepared to head home. Logan assumed you’d be leaving, too, and he figured you’d join your mother to mourn together. He’d never pushed you to talk about your family, but he knew enough to sense the fractured relationship with your mom.

Yet, as the days ticked by, you hadn’t mentioned any plans. He noticed your room was untouched, no suitcases packed or tickets booked. So, that evening, he found himself leaning against your bedroom door, watching you lace up your shoes with a distant look on your face.

“I thought you’d be packing by now,” he said, his voice low and casual, though his eyes held a flicker of concern.

You looked up, momentarily surprised by his presence, but quickly covered it with a smirk. “Packing for what? You finally planned a romantic getaway for us, tough guy?” you teased, trying to deflect with humor, as usual.

But Logan didn’t smile. His face softened, his arms crossing over his chest as he stepped into the room. “Sweetheart… I thought we talked about not pretending with each other.”

Your smirk faded, replaced by a look of resignation. For a moment, you looked down, fiddling with the laces on your shoes. “I’m not pretending,” you said softly, your voice lacking its usual bravado. “I just… I don’t want to go home for Christmas. There’s nothing to go home to.”

Logan’s brows knitted together, his voice gentle as he stepped closer. “You still have your mom—”

“Logan, stop.” The words came out sharper than you intended, and you stood up, wrapping your arms around yourself defensively. “I don’t… I don’t want to deal with her, okay? You met her at the hospital—she wasn’t exactly the nicest woman in the world.” Your voice wavered, the wall you’d tried so hard to keep up beginning to crumble. “You know my relationship with them—my parents was complicated.”

Tears started slipping down your cheeks before you could stop them, the weight of the year—of loss and complicated grief—finally surfacing. You tried to turn away, but Logan was already there, closing the distance between you in a few strides. Without a word, he pulled you into his arms, holding you tightly against his chest. His hands were steady, his touch warm and grounding as one hand cradled the back of your head, the other wrapping protectively around your waist.

He didn’t try to shush you or tell you it would be okay. Instead, he just held you, letting you fall apart in his arms. His thumb stroked the back of your neck gently, grounding you as he whispered, “It’s alright, darlin’. You don’t have to put on a brave face with me.”

You buried your face in his chest, letting yourself finally break down in a way you hadn’t let yourself do since your father passed. “I wanted so badly to be okay,” you choked out. “To just… move forward. But I don’t know how to do this, Logan. Holidays are supposed to be about family, but what do you do when… when you don’t have one anymore?”

He pulled back just enough to look at you, his hazel eyes filled with a mix of empathy and fierce protectiveness. “You’ve got family right here,” he murmured, his voice rough with emotion. “You don’t need to go anywhere if you don’t want to. Stay here—with me.”

His words settled over you, a quiet promise that you weren’t alone, that you had someone who would stand by you, even when you didn’t know how to hold yourself together. The walls you’d put up felt paper-thin, and for once, you didn’t try to rebuild them. Instead, you leaned into him, letting the warmth of his presence melt away the loneliness that had been eating at you.

“Are you sure?” you whispered, looking up at him, your voice barely holding back the vulnerability in your heart. “You’d really want to spend Christmas with me? Even if it means cheesy movies and too much hot cocoa?”

Logan’s gaze softened, a gentle, lopsided smile tugging at his lips. He lifted his hand, brushing a stray tear from your cheek with his thumb. “Sweetheart,” he whispered, his voice rough but steady, “there’s nowhere else I’d rather be. Besides…” He paused, a hint of a smirk appearing as he looked at you with that familiar, affectionate glint in his eyes. “I think we both deserve a damn celebration this year. Don’t you?”

A soft, shaky laugh slipped from your lips, the sound mingling with the quiet stillness around you. You clutched him a little tighter, pressing yourself against the solid warmth of his chest, letting the safety he offered melt away the lingering ache. For a moment, you let yourself imagine what it would be like—Christmas with Logan, a cozy fire, the two of you wrapped in blankets, sharing simple moments that felt like home.

You looked up at him, noticing the faint lines around his eyes and the way his gaze held something deeper and tender he didn’t share with just anyone. Logan, who had spent so many years keeping people at arm’s length, was here, with you, willing to make this season something special. You knew the holidays hadn’t ever meant much to him; the closest he’d come to family was the X-Men, but there was always that quiet yearning, that sense of longing in his eyes you could recognize as your own.

A mischievous smile crept onto your face as you tilted your head, running a finger along his jaw. “You know… for a grumpy, tough guy, you’re pretty soft.”

He chuckled, the sound low and genuine, vibrating through you as he wrapped his arms more securely around your waist. He leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead and lingering there, his breath warm against your skin. “Only for you,” he murmured, his voice so soft it almost blended into the quiet around you as if the words were a secret meant just for you.

𓂃

The mansion felt eerily quiet, the sort of silence that settles in when everyone else has left and you're finally alone. The last of the students and teachers had headed off for their Christmas plans, leaving only you and Logan behind. For a brief moment, you allowed yourself to feel the odd comfort in that—knowing that neither of you had a family to go home to, that somehow, you’d ended up here together. It almost felt like fate, like you’d been meant to find each other.

As Logan wandered back from the foyer, having just waved goodbye to Xavier, he looked at you sprawled across the couch, a playful smirk on his face. “Looks like it’s just you and me, sweetheart. What’s first on your holiday agenda?”

You grinned, half-sitting up. “Well, I doubt you’re up for decorating cookies or watching Christmas movies…” But before you could finish, Logan crossed the room in a few strides and scooped you up effortlessly.

“It’s not exactly the first thing on my mind,” he murmured, pressing a soft kiss to your cheek.

You laughed, giving him a light swat on the back as he threw you over his shoulder, carrying you with ease. “Logan, you’re acting like a teenager who finally got the house to himself.”

He grinned, undeterred, “Well, isn’t that what’s happening?”

He was halfway to the stairs, clearly intending to carry you all the way up, when the sudden chime of the doorbell echoed through the empty mansion, stopping him in his tracks.

You twisted around, trying to look over his shoulder. “Expecting someone?”

Logan set you back on your feet, frowning as he glanced toward the door. “Not that I know of,” he muttered, his expression already shifting to that familiar look of cautious alertness. He moved toward the foyer, and you followed close behind, almost colliding into his back when he stopped abruptly just a foot away from the door.

You noticed him take a deep breath, his nose twitching slightly as he caught a scent through the door. His expression shifted, the guarded edge softening just a bit. He turned back to you, his gaze gentle but wary.

“It’s… your mother,” he said quietly.

Your stomach dropped. “My—” The word caught in your throat as a wave of complicated emotions washed over you. You hadn’t seen her since your father’s funeral, and even then, the conversation had been brief, tense, and peppered with her usual backhanded comments.

Logan placed a steadying hand on your shoulder, searching your face. “You okay?”

You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. “Yeah… yeah, I’m fine. I just wasn’t expecting her to show up here.”

With a nod, Logan opened the door, and there she stood, wrapped in a heavy coat, her expression a mixture of displeasure and discomfort as she took in the mansion’s grand foyer.

“Well,” she said, her gaze sweeping over you with a critical eye before landing on Logan, her brow raising slightly. “I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised that you decided to stay here rather than come home.”

You forced a smile, though it felt brittle. “Nice to see you too, Mom.”

She glanced around the mansion, her lips pursed in that familiar way that meant she was about to say something judgmental. “This place is… large. Lavish. I imagine it must feel like a vacation for you.” Her tone dripped with the kind of passive-aggressive disapproval you’d grown up with, a reminder of every time she’d scolded you for wanting more than what you had.

Logan shifted beside you, his gaze hardening just a fraction as he observed the exchange. “Can we help you with somethin’?” he asked, his voice calm but laced with a protective undertone.

Your mother’s eyes flicked to him, a hint of surprise crossing her face. “You must be Logan. You know, I always thought my daughter would end up with someone… different.”

Logan’s jaw tightened, but he held his ground, giving her a steady, unflinching look. “Guess life doesn’t always turn out the way we expect,” he replied coolly, his arm subtly sliding around your waist, a quiet but unmistakable show of support.

You took a breath, steeling yourself. “Why are you here, Mom? I thought you knew I wasn’t coming home this year.”

She let out a heavy sigh, crossing her arms. “I came because I thought maybe you’d change your mind. It’s Christmas, after all. Family should be together.” Her gaze softened, but there was a flicker of resentment there, hidden just beneath the surface. “Though I see you’ve found… other company.”

“Mom, please,” you murmured, feeling Logan’s fingers gently squeeze your hip, grounding you. “I didn’t come home because it didn’t feel right. You know that things between us have been… complicated.” The words were careful, and a bit restrained, but you could feel the weight of the unsaid things pressing against your chest.

She scoffed lightly, waving her hand as if brushing off your feelings. “Complicated? You act like you were the only one who had it rough, but I was there too, you know. I did what I could.”

You swallowed, fighting the bitterness rising in your throat. “Did you? Because most of what I remember is you pretending everything was fine while I had to deal with… with everything else.” Your voice trembled slightly, but you steadied yourself, Logan’s presence beside you giving you strength.

There was a beat of silence, heavy and uncomfortable. Your mother looked away, a flash of guilt crossing her face, though she quickly masked it with a defensive huff. “I didn’t come here to argue,” she said tightly, her gaze darting between you and Logan. “I thought maybe you’d appreciate being with your real family for the holidays.”

Logan’s arm tightened around you protectively, his voice low but firm. “She is with her family,” he said, each word deliberate and unyielding.

Your mother’s eyes narrowed slightly, her lips pressed into a thin line as if weighing her next words carefully. Before she could respond, you gently placed a hand on Logan’s chest, signaling for him to let you handle it. He gave you a quiet nod, stepping back but lingering just out of sight. 

You took a breath, focusing on her. “Mom, I know you tried… in your own way. I don’t blame you for everything, and I know it wasn’t easy back then.” Your voice softened, a hint of vulnerability slipping through. “But this… this is where I want to be. With the people who make me feel safe, who understand me. Logan is a part of my life, and he’s not going anywhere.”

For a moment, something flickered in her gaze—regret, maybe, or the faintest trace of understanding. She looked away, her fingers fidgeting with the strap of her purse as she took a shallow breath, pulling her mask back up. “Well,” she said finally, her voice cool but wavering. “Then I suppose this place has changed you.”

You felt a pang in your chest, a mixture of sadness and relief. “I’m still the same—”

“No,” she interrupted, shaking her head. But her expression softened, and for the first time in years, you caught a glimpse of something real beneath her hardened exterior. “No, you aren’t. And that’s… that’s a good thing,” she admitted, her tone almost reluctant, but honest. “You seem… stronger. Happier. I can see that this place, being a teacher… it suits you.”

A soft, bittersweet smile tugged at your lips, the weight of years of complex emotions between you and your mother settling in your chest. “I am happy, Mom. I know this isn’t the life you imagined for me, but it’s what I want.”

She gave a small, almost imperceptible nod, but the tension in her posture told you that accepting this wasn’t easy for her. The silence between you was heavy, lingering like words unsaid, regrets unspoken. You could feel the moment slipping away, but before it did, you took a chance, your voice soft and tentative.

“Would you… would you like to stay for dinner?” you asked, the invitation hanging in the air like a fragile hope. “Logan and I, we were just about to cook something together.”

Your mother’s expression tightened, her gaze flicking to the mansion’s grand interior, then back to you. She shook her head, her lips pressing into a faint, strained smile. “No, I don’t think so. I have a long drive back,” she replied, her tone polite but distant. “Besides, I wouldn’t want to intrude.”

You swallowed the disappointment, forcing a small nod. “Alright,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper.

Just then, Logan stepped back into the doorway, a touch of nervousness in his expression, though he masked it well. He extended his hand toward her, attempting to make a good impression, the slight unease in his eyes showing how much he cared about this moment—for your sake, if nothing else.

“It was see you again, ma’am,” he said, his voice gruff but genuine. “Your daughter… well, she’s one hell of a woman. Just thought you should know.”

Your mother glanced at his outstretched hand, hesitating for a split second before giving it a quick, almost dismissive shake. She offered him a tight-lipped smile, but there was no warmth behind it. “Yes, well,” she replied, her tone clipped. “You two… take care of each other.”

Logan’s jaw tightened slightly, but he kept his expression polite, not pushing for more. You could tell he was trying, in his own way, to bridge a gap that had been there long before he’d come into your life. But your mother’s gaze had already drifted past him, her focus elsewhere.

You watched as she adjusted her purse on her shoulder, giving you a final nod. “Goodbye,” she murmured, her voice softer, almost reluctant, but the wall between you both was firmly back in place.

“Goodbye, Mom,” you replied, feeling a pang of longing that you knew would remain unanswered.

When the door clicked shut behind her, the silence settled thick around you, the weight of unspoken words and lingering disappointment pressing down on your chest. You barely noticed Logan stepping closer until you felt his hand on your back, a gentle, grounding touch that anchored you in the moment.

“You okay?” he murmured, his voice soft, searching your face for any sign of the hurt you might be hiding.

You nodded, though your eyes stung with unshed tears. “Yeah… yeah, I’ll be fine,” you whispered, managing a shaky smile. “It’s just… complicated. It always has been.”

Logan wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close, his chin resting on your head. “You don’t have to explain, darlin’,” he murmured, a comforting rumble against your hair. “I get it. And for what it’s worth, I’m here. I’m always here.”

You let out a soft, shaky breath, pressing your face into his chest, absorbing the warmth and strength he offered. “Thank you,” you whispered, feeling the weight begin to lift if only a little.

As he held you, Logan pressed a gentle kiss to the top of your head, his fingers brushing through your hair. “She’s a fool if she can’t see how incredible you are,” he murmured, his tone laced with a quiet intensity. “But lucky for me, she’s leavin’ you in good hands.”

You laughed softly, a mix of relief and affection as you looked up at him, brushing a tear from your cheek. “I’m pretty lucky too, you know.”

Logan’s lips curved into a gentle smile, his thumb tracing your cheek in a tender gesture. “Guess that means we get our quiet Christmas after all,” he said, a playful glint in his eyes.

“Yeah,” you replied, feeling the weight of the past begin to ease, replaced by a warmth that only Logan seemed to bring. “Just you and me, tough guy.”

[nthspecialll]

Going to ramble a little bit here and I’m curious to hear your thoughts. Bill is one of my favourite characters in rdr2, which is a statement people often validly criticise because of Bill’s racism, aggression, general bigotry, and of course the monster he grows into in rdr1. But to me Bill is such a heartbreaking character because I truly believe he could have been so easily swayed down a better path if someone had have just tried to help him.

Bill was a very insecure and repressed man and throughout the entirety of the second game he is constantly seeking appraisal from the gang, you see it in the random camp interaction where he makes a show of bringing fish to Pearson, desperate for any kind of acknowledgment for his hard work and he only gets a small thank you from Pearson and Arthur in return. You see it in the sentiment that Bill repeats a few times when talking about his jealousy of Arthur, how he feels like he’s not allowed to make the same mistakes Arthur would be given a slap on the wrist for. You see it when he asks Kieran to have drink with him and then becomes upset and defensive when his genuine vulnerable attempt at connection is rejected.

A lot of people can’t see past Bill’s racism, which is fair, but I also see it as another really tragic and realistic part of his character. In his racist interactions with Charles, Lenny and Javier I think he’s acting out for attention because he doesn’t know any other way to get it and I don’t believe he actually holds real hatred for any of them because of their race, I think Bill deeply loves and respects them as his brothers despite his mistreatment of them. I see this as different to someone like Micah who is just genuinely hateful in his black little heart. Bill was taken into the army as a young man and spoon fed racist rhetoric by the people he respected and looked up to, his superiors, his brothers in arms. They’d share boogeyman stories about how bloodthirsty the natives were and fill his impressionable mind hatred, and then he had all those racist horror stories reaffirmed when they’d send him out to watch the men he considered brothers be slaughtered in battle by said boogeymen. I think it’s clear Bill has PTSD from his army days which warps the way he sees the world around him, I think Dutch (despite the can of worms that is his own racism) says it best when he says “I don’t doubt you saw things Bill but your tiny little mind was too small to comprehend what you saw. What you saw was people who lost everything to savagery.” I believe that Dutch especially, considering the idol he is to Bill, had the opportunity to educate him and help him be a kinder man and yet he chose not to despite his Evelyn Miller fuelled white-saviour-complex. Bill’s trauma obviously doesn’t excuse any of his actions, but I think it is evidence that he had the capacity to learn and be helped if someone had just believed in his intelligence enough to try.

Also lastly a big part of Bill’s insecurity can be attributed to his repressed sexuality, people talk about it a lot so I won’t say much but the part of it that hurts me the most is that Bill lost EVERYTHING for being gay. When he was discharged from the army he lost his job, his home, his food, his friends and his dignity. He was left homeless on the streets, turning to alcohol and becoming the man his father was, and robbing people just to get by. Dutch saved him and became his messiah, he gave him purpose again and then intentionally left him uneducated and pining for his approval to use him as a tool the same way the army did. Taking advantage of all the good parts of Bill Williamson and leaving them to rot and fester under the filth.

What are your thoughts on how Bill was treated and what could have changed for him had he been treated differently? RIP Bill Williamson I could have taken better care of you <3

Well you touched on a lot of subjects that I have already touched on in my other Bill posts, so I guess I won't need to go into background details LMFAO.

Bill was treated like a fool by everyone for every small mistake he has every made no matter how small it is, because most are small, and he is also blamed for things that aren't really his fault, like Sean's death. He is pretty much that one person you use as the butt of a joke, and a lot of characters don't really give him a fair chance.

John actually seems to be his best friend though, they are both kind of labeled as lazy, they are both drunks and they both know it is a problem. The issue is that John is given a lot more freedoms than Bill is and that leads to him becoming very jealous very easily, John to some extent seems to notice it but it doesn't seem to bother him.

Bill really seems to like Lenny, taking him out to drink and out to rob and calling him his son, however Lenny doesn't really seem to be that enthusiastic. It seems that Lenny goes with Bill when Bill asks, but he doesn't seem to be the one to take initiative to do something with him.

Now Hosea, he is absolutely not giving Bill a fair chance, he is going after him constantly and literally setting Bill up for failure. Hosea really seems to be using his senority against Bill and being a dick to him. Micah does the same, except he seems to hide it a little better because he feels they are on the same side.

Dutch is treating Bill like he is a child and a fool, even thoguh everything Bill does it to please Dutch.

As for what could have changed, I think a lot, like a lot. Steve said that if just someone had told Bill "hey we appriciate you" he would have sided with Arthur, and that is a massive thing because it means betraying Dutch whom he is otherwise so loyal to. So I think you can change pretty much anything about Bill if you just treat him nicely, it might take some time and a few reminders, but yeah his racism, his sour comments, his drinking could likely be changed if just effort was put into it, if someone encouraged him and stood by him.

[twstfanblog]

*~Thanks Give Me~* Pt 3

A/N: Third part ready and served! Yes I passed out writing this at least twice. So you can probably see it but at this point it's just gonna have to be. I have plans to do what I'm gonna call 'Winter Cleaning' since I wont be doing a Christmas fic this year. So lots of time to look back at all of my posted fics to fix typos and the such XD Word Count: 3.3K Pairings: Ruggie/Leona, Cater/Idia, Vil/Rook, Trey/Jade, Riddle/Floyd, Epel/Ace/Deuce/Jack Warnings: Swearing, Trans-headcanons, Drug mentions, Lying about pregnancy

Prev

The dinner was surprisingly pleasant. It was a possibility, Trein knew that. His students, if push came to shove, could act civilly to each other for extended periods of time. It still made his heart soften seeing them all around the table engaged in conversations. If he craned his head a little to the left he could see Lucius seated at the ‘Kids Table’. Demeaning? Possibly. But he knew his familiar wouldn't complain if he was receiving human food, not to mention the small tumbler of cream he had in place of the fruit punch the other children and Grim were given.

Looking to his right, Trein watched Cater take photo after photo of his plate. It was filled to the brim, a little tasteful piece from the most colorful dishes. But seeing him only pick at the food, Trein realized that was only his ‘Photo Plate’. The redhead was routinely picking off of Idia’s plate who was to Caters right. 

Thinking over the conversation he had with Yuu earlier that week, Trein placed his utensils down. Dabbing at his mouth to make sure no food was on his face, he cleared his throat, “Cater?”

The redhead in question snapped his head up, the flash of his camera flickering as it took a photo, “Yes? Sorry, is the flash bothering you, sir? I'm trying to see what lighting is better.”

"Nothing is the matter Cater, I wish to speak to you on other matters.”

“Oh?” Cater leaned his arm on the table, “Spill the tea.”

Trein linked his hands together, leveling Cater with a steady gaze, “You were given the a title as a task I believe?”

“Lol, yeah. Yuu says I'm ‘Gay Cousin’. Wont really tell me what I'm supposed to be doing though.”

“Oh, well this works out perfectly. Yuu alerted me as ‘Grandpa’, it was my task to ask you certain questions.”

“Oh, thank the Seven. Actual direction…”

Trein pulled his phone from his inner robe pocket along with his reading glasses. Putting his glasses on, he opened the notes app, “Now, I've heard you children say a few terms that I'm not aware of…would you tell me what a…’Gyatt’ is?”

Cater turned to Idia, grabbing his attention from his tablet, “Switch seats with me.”

“There's two T's.”

“Switch with me right the fuck now.”

Leona ate as much from his plate in big bites as possible. Ruggie was no better, the hyena basically shoveling food down his throat without even closing his mouth. Looking to his other side, he had to hold back the urge to smirk.

Malleus Draconia, the bane of his existence and the most aggravating thorn to ever find its way to his side.

When he had visited Ramshackle to offer more monetary support, Yuu had given him a second task. They had revealed to him that they told Malleus Thanksgiving was a holiday of compromise and togetherness, meaning you weren't allowed to fight on the day. They then told him to do everything in his power to piss Malleus off.

Taking a sip of his beer, Leona glanced at Malleus from the corner of his eyes, “So, gargoyles…”

It almost made him feel bad seeing how quickly Malleus perked up, green eyes wide and sparkling.

“Yes? what did you wish to discuss about them?”

“What's your favored style? I can admit to having a soft spot for animal pieces, but the Savanna uses more geometric and plant designs.”

Malleus could have vibrated out of his seat and into the sun from how excited he became. He quickly launched into a lecture, noting the various styles and the positives of each one. Leona spoke up at points, giving actual opinions and thoughtful insights on the topic.

“I will say Kingscholar, I didn't expect you to have such knowledge on gargoyles! You must come to my club at a later date to speak on them farther.”

“I just might. Talking about grotesques is enjoyable-”

“Gargoyles.”

Leona raised an eyebrow, humming as he took another sip of his beer.

Malleus was still smiling, though his pupils had dilated into slits, “Gargoyles. We are speaking on gargoyles.’

Shrugging, Leona could barely hide his smirk from behind his glass, “Same thing.”

Leona watched in hidden elation as Malleus’s face slowly dropped the longer he talked. It was worth the days of learning gargoyle architecture just to give wrong definitions and terms, each new avenue of knowledge torturing Malleus in his urge to argue and correct him.

Soon Malleus was leaned on the table, head resting on his hands to give himself support while Leona kept talking.

Leona smiled, leaning closer to Malleus, “And you know what really gargles my goyles?”

Malleus gags hard and quick, managing to cover his mouth and steel himself.

“...Did you almost throw up?”

“I did. A little…”

The laugh Leona let out could only make Malleus more frustrated. 

Kalim had completely forgotten about the conversation topic Yuu recommended he try. He remembered as the plate of grilled and buttered corn made its second pass in front of him. Grabbing a cob, he looked across the table, “Hey, Azul. What's your opinion on The stalk market right now?”

Azul paused, closing the note app on his phone to give Kalim his full attention, “Kalim, have you been taking note of the stock market?”

“Yeah. I've only started checking on it the past week or so, but man! It's pretty wild, huh?”

Smiling, Azul moved to place another scoop of pasta salad onto his plate along with a third slice of turkey, “True. The stock market can be a bit of a wild west to the untrained. Do you have any predictions for the new year? My stepfather and I love to place bets on which company will have the worst spring quarter.”

"Hmmm. I don't know. I can't remember the companies by name still. But man, I read about one that lost half of their product due to outside issues. I'm just worried that prices will increase since they had such a bad production period. Other companies deal in their certain type of stalk, but this company was the biggest provider…”

“...” Azul placed his utensils down, giving Kalim his complete attention, “Kalim what sources are you getting this information from?” Azul doesn’t watch the stock market obsessively but he’d at least notice something so severe.

“Oh, I just Miraed ‘Stalk Market’ and started reading. You should really look up some stuff…”

“Jamil-”

Jamil didn’t even look up from his plate, grabbing a second helping of food, “Don’t involve me with this.”

Sighing, Azul turns back to Kalim, “There is no way, such a large shift happened without me noticing. Plus, if only one company is affected in production, then it wouldn’t raise prices if there are other competitors. What is this stock in?”

“Stalks.”

“Yes…Which stock? Do you remember if this company was in electronics? Services? What ddi this company do?”

“Stalks! Azul, do you know what the stalk market is?”

“Kalim, let’s not start that conversation. Tell me, in plain words, what kind of stock you were researching.”

“Corn stalks.”

“...”

Jamil had turned to them, looking at Kalim across the table, “Are you fucking serious?”

Cater had his head in his hands, Trein still beside him listing off old and newer slang that he wanted definitions of. The professor growing more and more disapproving with every new term he learned. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could do this.

“And…’boofing’, do you know what boofing is?”

WHO WAS BOOFING- “Pregnant. I’m pregnant.” Cater nodded to himself, using the trap card Yuu had given him to shift any conversation in his favor.

Trein raised a brow, “Is that what boofing is?”

Idia had locked in the second Cater said pregnant, looking at him in terrified confusion, “How are you pregnant?”

“...” Cater played with his hair, looking away from his boyfriend, “It’s not yours.”

Ortho quickly leaned over to narrow his eyes at Cater, Idia still stunned in silence, “Who’s the father?”

“...” Cater shifted his eyes across the table, silently watching as Trey contently ate his food.

Jade took notice, his own amused smile slowly falling from his face as he realized Cater was focused on Trey.

Feeling more and more eyes on him, Trey looked up mid-bite, “...What?”

Cater sighed, fully committing to his bit, “Trey, I’m pregnant.”

“...” Trey made the mistake of looking to his side, catching the unblinking stare of Jade’s barely contained emotions before looking back at Cater, “Why are you telling me?”

“It’s yours.”

Trey quickly reached his hand out, pinning Jade’s wrist to the table just as the mer tightened his grip on his knife, “Cater, we have…never slept together.”

Rook spoke up from Trein’s left, pouting at Cater, “Monsieur Magicam, how are you not sure it’s mine?”

Vil lost every ounce of amusement, glaring at Rook as though he was poisoning him with his eyes alone, “Why would it be yours?”

“Oh, mon amor. Love is a flighty and fickle predator, it hunts and snatches its prey with little to no warning.” Turning back to Cater, he placed a hand over his heart, “Are you sure it’s not mine?”

Cater could barely keep his face start, nodding as he watched Trey start struggling to hold Jade down from stabbing either of them, “I’m pretty sure. I’ve been craving violets and worrying about the teeth of children-”

Jade hissed under his breath, glaring at Trey and trying to grab his knife with his other hand, “How dare you impregnate someone else!?” 

“I didn’t!?”

Vil said nothing, glaring at Rook as the wine in his hand slowly started to bubble and turn black. His eye twitched as his boyfriend continued to lament and plea for Cater to tell him he was the father of his child.

Idia, breaking out of his spiral of despair and confusion, mumbling out, “Wait, you don’t even like vaginal sex. How’d you get pregnant?”

“...”

Trein spoke up, turning to Rook beside him, “Do you know what boofing is?”

Four glasses deep in the wine he brought, Crewel swirled his glass and picked at the ham on his plate. Eyes roaming the table for someone to target.

“Oi, Beakfish, hand me the red sludge.”

Riddle sighed, glaring at Floyd, “Don’t be rude to our professor and it’s cranberry sauce. Red sludge is very unappealing…Plus, it’s more of a burgundy color.”

“Eh? It’s a sludge though? It’s got chunks and everything.”

Silver raised an eyebrow, pouring more gravy onto his food, “It looks more like a jelly to me.”

While the three students were debating on what to call the condiment, Crewel grabbed the small platter but kept it close to himself, “I’ll pass it if you can tell me the boiling point of a frost potion, Floyd.”

“That’s a trick question. Frost potions don’t boil but they heat to temp.”

“Hmmm. Odd you know that but left it blank on your last test. Along with a number of other questions.”

Floyd groaned, rolling his eyes and moving to reach across the table and grab the platter in Crewel’s hand, “I didn’t wanna! Tests are so annoying, be happy I even wrote on it this time…”

Riddle glared at his boyfriend, “Honestly Floyd. You have to learn to put in more effort in your schoolwork. Your grades would be better for it.”

Crewel turned his eyes to Riddle, raising an eyebrow, “Like how you should be doing more cardio and strength training outside of Physical Education?”

“...”

“You can’t do five pull-ups, Riddle.”

Silver spoke around the spoonfuls of mashed potato in his mouth, “Riddle is able to lift a saddle during club.”

“By himself?”

“...” Silver looked back to his plate, poking at his side of vegetables, “The horses are much taller than him…”

Lilia laughed, his glass full of sangria having been drained for a third time already, “Oh come now Crewel! Children tend to try to avoid difficult things like schoolwork or exercise. We’re having a lovely meal, let’s drop the topic.”

“You have two essays you’ve yet to turn in.”

“...Um-”

“You’re aware that your Mistcord* status is public and shows you play Mortus Behind* for hours on end every night?”

“Well-”

Yuu spoke up, looking over as Deuce went back for a third helping of mac and cheese, “Slow down there, Deuce. Leave some for the rest of us.”

The spade soldier blushed, stopping from getting a second scoop before passing the dish over to Ace, “Sorry. It’s just really good, how many cheeses did you use in this?”

“Four. I call it Mac n Coma for a reason.”

“...You call it what?”

Epel hummed, biting into a deviled egg topped with a piece of ham, “Yur deviled eggs are really good, Deuce! Ah’ve never had them with chili powder before.”

Deuce smiled, “Thanks! My mom always made them with chili powder instead of cayenne. Cater confused me so much when I was making them…”

Taking another two eggs, Epel started to load his plate up again, making sure to refill his glass of apple juice, “This was a great idea. Ah’ve been meaning to get y'all together. Plus, Ah get ta really chow down without Vil bothering me about manners.”

Jack raised an eyebrow, watching Epel pile his plate high, “Eating is important, but you’re kind of…eating a lot. You know we can take leftovers back with us right?”

Ace looked from the side of his eyes, watching Ruggie eat without so much as stopping to breathe, “I mean, if there’s anything left…”

Epel had patted a hand on his stomach, “Well, you know. Eatin’ for two and all.”

Jack hacked and choked, an aborted spit take going down his windpipe. Sebek had dropped his fork onto his plate, looking at Epel with wide and terrified eyes, while Deuce seemed to buffer.

Ace sputtered, his half-chewed food falling out of his mouth, “You’re what!?”

“Oh, it ain’ yours.”

“Thank the Seven…”

Deuce held his head in his hands, staring at the table, “My mom is gonna kill me…”

“It ain’ yurs neither, Deuce. It’s Sebek or Jack’s but Ah’m not sure which…”

Jack still looked horrified, hitting his chest to clear his airway, “E-either way. I’ll step up to be there for you and the baby…”

“...” Sebek glares at Jack, “Why do you assume I wouldn’t be stepping up as the child’s father?”

“Why do you assume you’re the father?”

Slowly, Jack and Sebek’s tension escalated into an argument, the two larger freshmen moving to stand from their chairs or just leap across the table at each other. Both loudly proclaiming they’d be a proper provider for Epel and the child, unknowingly insinuating the other would not be.

While the two of them bickered back and forth, Yuu slipped Epel a twenty note bill under the table.

Sam finished off his second plate, looking around the the table. His task wasn't truly something he had to do, it was more of a get out of jail card for when the table was too rowdy for him. With two separate conversations at each end of the table dealing with possible pregnancies, a debate on if the production of corn counted as the stalk/stock market, and Draconia slowly coming to terms with the idea of manslaughter Sam decided he needed a little air.

He elbowed Crewel, stopping the wine drunk man from verbally dragging his students through the trenches, “I'm gonna go for a walk, you wanna come with?”

“To what? Have sex?”

“...” Sam shrugged his shoulders, “I mean, I was going to just…walk but we'll see how we feel afterwards?”

“...Yeah, ok.”

Floyd perks up, “Ah! Wait, shrimpy told me what your job was. I wanna come too!”

Lilia smiled, finally free from Crewel's judgemental glare, “Oh, a walk? May we join you? I even have my own…walk enhancers.”

Sam shrugged again, already standing from his seat, “Might as well.”

Their small group was barely noticed leaving, only Riddle and Silver taking account. Riddle raised an eyebrow, watching them walk out of the dining room without a goodbye.

“Where do you suppose they're going?”

Silver took the time to grab the cranberry sauce from Crewel's table space, “A walk. They should be back in about ten or fifteen minutes…”

“Why in the Seven would they go for a mid-meal walk? Once they were done eating I could understand, but Floyd's barely touched his second plate…”

“...” Silver looked over to Riddle, brows creased in confusion, “Riddle, They're going to do drugs. That's what taking a ‘walk’ means.”

The gasp Riddle gave was small but clearly horrified.

Dinner had ended, while a handful returned to their dorms (Idia of course, leaving the second Cater asked if he was ready to go, and Vil who finished his plate and dragged Rook out with him) most had decided to stick around Ramshackle.

The only reason he had stayed was the fact he did not have his phone for some reason. He tried to retrace his steps, checking around the now empty dinner table he found nothing but the nearly empty serving platters all covered again. The stray fairy watching him from little spaces, waiting for him to leave so they could pick at the food left improperly covered.

He checked the kitchen, finding only Crewel and Trein standing at the Island both nursing glasses of wine. Pouting, seated at the smaller dining table across from Vargas was Crowley. The headmaster begrudgingly eating from a plate, no doubt cursing Yuu under his breath for not actually inviting him to their massive friends and family dinner.

“Apologies for interrupting, professors. But have any of you seen my phone? White case with a rose popstand on the back?”

While most of the teachers shook their heads, Varga hummed before snapping his fingers, “The lounge! I think one of the kids had it.”

“Oh no…”

Walking into the lounge, Riddle had to hold in a snicker. Yuu had told him their family recipe for macaroni and cheese was known as ‘Mac n Coma’ and he could see why. Leona was passed out on the couch, snoring loudly face down in the cushions. Wedged between the back of the couch and Leona’s side was Ruggie. The hyena silent but sleeping just as hard with an arm draped over the back of Leona’s head.

The children were asleep too, each of them piled on top of Leona and Ruggie in a mass of limbs. Jack’s twin siblings squishing Cheka between them, the grey tipped twin sleepily gnawing on the lion cub’s tail. Deuce was also in the lounge, unfortunately unable to reach a couch or chair as he slept on the floor using a throw pillow as a blanket.

Looking around, he couldn’t see his phone anywhere. Groaning under his breath, he walked out to the back and to the patio. He quickly walked by Trey and Jade, the third-year quietly trying to calm his boyfriend who kept glaring at him. Walking around the garden, he finally saw his familiar white case.

The downside was that it was in Yuu’s hands, Floyd squished tight beside her in the pillow filled hammock swing. The two were whispering to themselves, giggling and pointing at the screen. 

He stood in front of them, hands on his hips and already tapping his foot in annoyance, “I would like my phone back, if you two delinquients wouldn’t mind.”

Floyd looked up, his eyes still rimmed in red from his ‘walk’ earlier, “In a minute, Goldfishie~. We gotta do something real fast.”

“What could you two possibly need my phone for?”

Yuu giggled, tapping on the phone and moving to place it against their ear, “We’re callin' your mom and seeing who can make her say a slur fastest.” “GIVE ME MY PHONE THIS INSTANT!”

*Twist version of Discord

*Twist version of Left 4 Dead

[obeythedemons]

So with Obey Me! And Nightbringer coming to an end, I want to express my thoughts.

Firstly, I was very much a part of the fandom. It became a hyper fixation where I wrote so much fanfiction and created some fan art. At one point, I believe I may have been one of the top, if not top writers for Barbatos specifically. This blog managed to get a few thousand followers and I appreciate you all very much. It gave me comfort when I was working in an infectious disease laboratory during the height of Covid. I have wonderful memories of being a part of this fandom.

I also have to say that Obey Me! gave me the greatest gift I could ever ask for. I met my fiance because of Obey Me! I love them with all of my heart and I'm extremely lucky to have them. For that, Obey Me! will always have an extremely important place in my heart.

With that being said, my disappointment in Obey Me! started with season 4. It felt pointless and like no depth was actually being added to the characters. The special events were overwhelming and felt like cash grabs. When Nightbringer was announced, I was feeling optimistic that maybe they would go back in the story development we saw in season 1 of og. The first part of Nightbringer I was feeling better about the game in a while. There was lore being added that I could see being larger pieces of the actual game - who was the fairy king and is he related to Nightbringer? Is Barbatos perhaps actually a fairy? Is he the son of the fairy king and a foil to Diavolo? Then, the rest of the game started coming out, and it felt like season 4 all over again. Instead of plot, they focused on brother shenanigans. It felt pointless. Not only that, but it was hard to progress in the game because our cards had to start all over. I spent a long time in OG preparing my cards for a season that would never be.

I was frustrated and stopped playing. I'll check out the wiki every now and then, to see if there's anything worth picking it back up again, but I honestly can't find anything worth while. The game ignores what could be incredible story lines and characteristics and favors shallow re-hashes of the same thing.

I think a lot of players felt the same way. I think that's likely why the games are being discontinued, because people just aren't returning to it. We were no longer invested in the same points of conflict. Of having Mammon and Lucifer shoved down our throats, especially if those two weren't your favorite.

Perhaps they'll release a complete game in the future, one that's a one time purchase and is actually completed. That's my best case scenario. I would love to see it. But for now, we'll see.

I don't hate Obey Me or Nightbringer. Like I said, it gave me the most wonderful person in the world. I am disappointed with where it ended, however. I wished it would have gotten better. It deserved to be better.

[kaliforniahigh]

Same anon, I found your original post and decided to try a prologue blurb for you as I was feeling creative 👉👈

you just moved into a new house and you take this picture of Noah, and after a couple of weeks, strange things start happening, like stuff moving on its own and suddenly your camera stops working and you can't sleep separately anymore and you can't be alone in the house because you're so scared

Search for missing 23-year-old gone cold.

The front page headline taunts you accompanied by the picture you took of Noah a year ago to the day. You don't bother to read the actual article, it's been the same regurgitated nonsense for the past year, the same speculations which throw a spotlight on you: prime suspect #1. No one believes you when you tell them the truth. You got tired of trying to explain, being scoffed at and mocked as you tried to defend yourself to members of a community in a town you wished you no longer lived in. You were the town pariah and chose to accept that. "Come on. Don't look at that." Nicholas' hand on top of yours pulls you back from your thoughts. "Don't do this to yourself." He knows what you're doing, that you're beating yourself up again. Since Noah went missing he's been at your side, you know it's because he lost his best friend that night too but you can't help but wonder if a part of him blames you.

This never would have happened if you had just left when it first started happening. You're convinced that this is all somehow your fault, because you weren't truthful about how bad things got inside that house when something would creep in with the darkness, whenever he wasn't home.

You don't answer. You sigh because you're tired of the same old merry-go-round of lies your conversations have become. He's been supportive and good friend, allowing you to stay at his ever since because you're too scared to be inside that house even once the crime scene tape was ripped from the door. You can't sell it because no one wants a house with an active missing persons case attached to it, or to buy from the girl who is their number one suspect. You'd rip it down if you could but know that if you did whatever that thing was living inside there would only find a new home, a new person to torment. Somehow you prefer to be the one in control of that.

When you look across at Nicholas you can see it in his face he wants to ask you about it again. Every so often he gets the same look in his eye, the one that tells you he wants to ask because he doesn't believe you when you tell him what happened the night Noah disappeared.

Maybe the fact he doesn't believe you stems from the way your answer never changes, nor does the infliction in your voice. You repeat it like you're reading from a script, you weren't awake when he was yelling, it was too dark for you to even see anything, you don't know where the blood came from, you don't know anything.

Truthfully, you do because you were together that night, the same way you had been for the last few months when the nights became to unbearable for you to sleep alone. You felt safer with him, or convinced yourself that you were. Nothing came when he was there and the night terrors and sleep paralysis had come to a stop.

"I know you've told me before but what actually happened that night? Maybe... maybe you missed something?" There's a crack in his voice which betrays his own emotion. You know he's fighting hard to believe you, to have sympathy. You feel guilty every time you hear that break in his voice because you want to tell him.

So you start recount the events of that night, like reading from a script, because the only thing you know is: you can't tell anyone the truth.

ANOON!!!! WHAT ARE YOU DOING????

I'm actually freaking out right now because this is PERFECT. You wrote it perfectly, I don't even have the words to describe it!!!!

Poor Nicholas and poor reader. And she was there too when it happened :( She felt so safe with him and then this happens? And when you mentioned the blood???

Please, come back whenever you're feeling creative again!!!!

[vala-dreams]

Y'all ever realize that you're not actually shy and for some reason your whole life everyone called you shy and introverted and your mother berated and compared you to your father for it but you're???? not even shy????????

Like I talk so much to my two friends and I dump information about shit I like or know about to other people and I can refuse to take flyers from people handing them out on the street I literally talk so much,,,,,like I'm not shy why did everyone tell me I'm shy I feel like I would talk to so many more people if everyone hadn't told me I was introverted

[yellowloid]

only way i'm accepting the apology video that's no doubt going to come from watcher in the next few days is if ryan and shane decide to throw steven out altogether

[seaofreverie]

Anyway.... Back to what I was pondering earlier today... It's been 4 months but I'm still as deeply obsessed with Exotic Creatures of the Deep as at the very start

[buckleydiazmp4]

it's tag venting time

[batsinurbelfrey]

.

[noxtivagus]

hmmm. oh my god my mind is a mess i rlly can't write what i want to rn but i will just Dump

[golden-ebony]

Ten's a Crowd ·ᴥ·✿˖°

♡ Pairing: Logan Howlett/female!Reader

♡ Word Count: 2.4k

♡ Rating: Explicit 18+

♡ Warning/Tags: SMUT! MINORS DNI, p-v, oral fem!receiving, a tad of overstimulation,

♡ Summary: As Robo said: Logan would turn your plushies around before fucking you raw btw, he told me himself—pulls em off to the side with a gruff little “You don’t wanna see this next part bub” before turning you every way BUT loose.

♡ Note: @robo-writing MADE A POST THAT MADE ME BOTH SCREAM CHUCKLE AND INSPIRED TO CREATE THIS PIECE. robo is also one of my favs so check them out too!

You wanted to take it slow with Logan. Even if every bone in your body wanted to jump his, you actually liked him and didn’t want to do anything you believed could sabotage your budding relationship. This was a mutual yet unspoken understanding between the two of you. 

He had every intention of taking things slow with you–make his intentions clear. Having met you while you bartended at his favorite spot, you had seen him pick up and take a few girls home. You were different, and he wanted to make that clear. 

Still, every time Logan dropped you off at your apartment, it became more charged. After your first date, he simply dropped you off. After your second and third date, it ended in short yet sensual kisses. The tension was building the entirety of your fourth date. When Logan had you pressed against your apartment building door, your moans were smothered by the passionate open mouth kisses. And by god, you wanted to give in, but mother nature had other plans for you. Despite either of your wishes, you called it a night.

Your fifth date was at a drive in-movie. You brought the blankets that were laid out in the bed of Logan’s truck. The both of you admittedly got a handsy during the movie, practically missing the end of the movie.

As Logan parked in the front of your building, he carried the folded blankets that you brought to your building door. Before he could offer to bring the blankets up for you, you muttered the four words he had been waiting to hear for almost a month.

“You wanna come up?”

Logan couldn't help but perk up at that question. Your voice was as sweet as honey, and the soft glow of the porch light framed your face perfectly. He tried to keep a straight face, but the corner of his lips tugged into a small smile when you invited him up.

"Course," he said, his voice rough and low as he tried to contain the lewd thoughts that started flooding his brain. 

As you brought him up the elevator, the tension between the two of you was thicker than the blankets he carried. You needed him–need him bad. 

As soon as you entered the apartment, you told Logan that he could put the blankets on the couch. He haphazardly tossed them on the cushions but didn’t take his eyes off you. The intensity in his eyes was betraying the restraint he was trying to maintain for weeks. 

Barely a beat afterward, you were all over each other. The kiss was sloppy, your tongue immediately submitting to his. Logan’s hand roamed slightly under your sweater, fingers pressing against the warmth of your skin. 

Stumbling backward toward your bedroom, Logan kept his lips on your, drinking in the taste that he desperately wanted–hell, needed. As he laid you down, he didn't break the kiss, slowly trailing his hand up your thigh. His lips found their way to your neck, nipping and sucking the sensitive skin.

“Been thinkin’ about this all night, darlin’,” he growled against your neck as he hovered over you. His grip on your thigh tightened, earning a gasp from your lips. “Just like that, baby, I need to hear ya.”

Logan’s other hand hiked up farther near your head until his hand began crushing something soft, something smaller than a pillow. Still focused on marking the skin over your pulse, he moved his hand again just to squish another item, almost losing his grip on the bed. 

With a hint of frustration, Logan’s eyes glared open. His stare was immediately met with glossy, black buttoned eyes of a brown cow and the cheery eyes and blushing face of…maybe a dumpling, he thought.

He paused his lips’ freezing against your skin. Logan pulled away slightly to get a better look at what was under his hand. He chuckled, his voice gravelly as he looked down at the squished yet irate octopus.

You sighed due to the loss of contact, swiveling to see what had caught Logan’s attention over the woman he was making out with. He had a mixed expression of confusion and amusement. 

“You find my plushies entertaining?” you softly giggled, propping yourself up by your elbows.

“I just…” Logan’s voice was gruff with a smirk as he sized up the 6–no, 8–plushies eyeing him down. The cow, dumpling, octopus, platypus, jellyfish, hot sauce bottle, bumblebee, and mushroom propped against your pillows all had their eyes on Logan, silently judging him. “I just didn’t expect an audience. Your little posse is a bit intimidating,” he teased, looking down at you with a cheeky grin.

“Didn’t think you were one to falter under pressure,” you chuckled. From your back, you turned to look at your plushies. You gave him a tantalizing look as you grabbed the angry octopus from his hand, shaking it in his face. “They’re just here to be cute.”

“Yeah, they’re cute.” Logan’s attention was diverted back to your exposed abdomen from your slightly lifted sweater. A deep growl emitted from his chest as he lifted your sweater further to reveal your plum colored bra. His large hand cupped your right breast as a wry smile grew on his lips. “But what I’m planning on doing with you…it’s far from cute, sweetheart.”

Logan was quick to remove your sweater, throwing it toward the  mushroom, causing it to fall off the bed entirely. He dipped back down to your lips with a renewed passion. Dropping the octopus on your nightstand, you were quick to tug at Logan’s t-shirt, practically begging to lose it.

Ripping it off, you could feel your arousal pool at the sight of his broad, hairy chest and sculpted form. Over your head, he tossed his shirt. It landed over the eyes of the soft platypus, but you didn’t notice. You were too enveloped in the hot kisses Logan was lying between the valley of breasts down to the waist of your leggings. His rough hands massaged your breasts until they popped out of their constraints. 

Ragged short moans fell from your lips as he grazed and twerked your hardened nipples. Your hands raked over his larger hands before moving to his taunt shoulders, nails scraping his shoulder blades. Logan grunted as he felt your nails rake across his shoulders, his darkened eyes locking on you, hungry and filled with lust.

“Love the pretty moans you make for me, baby,” Logan groaned, his hands moving to the sides of your leggings to wiggle you out of them. Taking your panties with them, you were exposed to Logan. The glisten and scent of your arousal was too tempting.

Feeling his warm breath against your aching cunt, you inched forward, desperate for any form of contact, “Please, Logan. I need to feel you…”

Without another word, Logan applied a heavy striped lick against your cunt all the way to your pulsing clit. A stuttered moan escaped your lips as Logan buried his face into your cunt, wrapping his arms around your soft thighs to pull you closer and keep you legs opened wide.

“Hm, so fuckin’ sweet. All for me, sweetheart?” he muttered against your cunt, the vibrations causing a shiver to run up your spine. You almost missed what he said as tongue lap and darted into your sopping core at a speed that had to be sinful. 

You could barely get the words out. Your mind was reeling with such intense pleasure that Logan could only grab your attention again by nipping on your inner thigh. You quickly winced 

“You gotta speak up, darlin’. I gotta hear you,”

“All for you, Lo-Logan! Because of you!” Despite your volume, your voice came off small and pathetic as your need for Logan grew.

Rewarding you, Logan pressed a harsh kiss against your clit, sending shockwaves through you. Your hips tried to buck but were secured firmly by the strength of Logan. He was practically making out with your cunt, his nose adding just enough pressure to your clit to run you like a facet.

“So goddamn pretty, so perfect,” he softly breathed against you, darkened eyes temporarily meeting your lust-blown ones like man possessed. Your head tilted back in ecstasy, his stare too intense.

Your finger interlocked with your comforter and his hair. The grip Logan had to keep around your thighs only grew harsher as you thrashed around him. It was a vicious cycle. Your elevated moans drove Logan to delve deeper which only made your thrashing worse and your moans more boisterous. Logan knew you’d learn better once you woke up with the bruised prints in the morning. You knew you’d cherish them. 

From your tightened grip on his hair and the sheets, Logan knew you were near your edge. His name was spilling out of your lips as if it was the only word you knew now. Coming up for air didn’t matter; Logan was prepared to drown in your soaked core.

Your climax was almost violent, your legs quiver as you released. Logan lapped it up like a dying dog, the taste of you making him moan. He couldn’t help but rut against the edge of your bed as he licked you clean through your high. The friction was welcomed but not enough.

Your body relaxed as you tried taking in deep breaths to regain a semblance of control. Before releasing your thighs, Logan affixed one last bold brush to your ruined cunt for good measure. Your cheeks were flushed as you looked down at him again. His eyes locked with yours, dark and intense. His eyes seemed almost feral, his need for you evident. He needed more–more of you, all of you.

Logan slowly kissed a path up your body, pausing momentarily to admire the indented prints he had left on your hips. He relished the taste of your skin, his lips leaving a trail of light kisses along your thighs, hips, your stomach, your chest. Your body was still quivering 

Finally, his face, still damp with your arousal, was mere inches away from yours, a smug smile on his lips. He gave you a moment to catch your breath before he spoke, his voice a low, rough whisper.

“You okay, darlin’?”

You huffed into a small smile. It floored you how he’d asked, knowing damn well he could still feel your toes curling and your leg involuntarily shaking. It floored you further how badly you still wanted him.

Kissing the corners of your mouth, darting your tongue to gather the remainder of your arousal from his face, you hand grazed his growing bulge. You received a strained grunt from Logan.

“Why do you still have these on?” The sound of your rough and sultry voice, your question–it only made the strain in his jeans worse.

Standing and exposing his full physique, he was quick to remove his jeans and briefs.  Your eyes went wide as the sight of his thick, engorged cock, the tip already leaking down a vein. 

Logan chuckled lowly at the sight of your reaction. Seeing your widened eyes and parted lips, a wicked grin spreading across his face.

“So goddamn greedy, baby. Didn’t get enough already?” he mocked, laying down to cage you under the weight of his body again.

In response, you pulled him closer, your lips attached to his neck. Your tongue smoothed over every nip. Logan growled, his cock finding some relief from the friction against your hip.

Logan's eyes softened as he was again face-to-face again with the soulful eyes of your cow, slightly tilted on its side. Its fallen comrades were on the floor, preemptively averting their own innocent eyes.

He spoke gruffly, under his breath, “Uh, yeah, you don’t wanna see this next part, bub.” He picked up the cow and spun it around, leaning it against the headboard.

Your plushies didn’t see it, and you could barely handle it. Tears spilled from the corners of your eyes as Logan continued to roughly push into you climax after climax after climax. From your back to your stomach to your side, your body was completely coated with sweat and pleasure. Hearing you moan, beg, and whimper only drove Logan to push you further and further till the only word you could conjure was his name.

“It’s not too much, sweetheart, yeah?” Logan’s warm breath groaned against the back of your neck, raising the hairs on it. His bulky arm hooked around to belly, trapping your pelvis against his. He had slowed his tempo in comparison to the previous two rounds, but he hadn’t been this deep. With his leg The tip of his cock was pressing faint kisses against your cervix. Resting his chin on your shoulder, he could witness your face contort in continued pleasure. “You can take it, baby. Taking me so fuckin’ good all night.”

Your voice was gravelly–surely going to be gone in the morning–as your exhausted eyes peered toward Logan, “I-I can’t, Lo-gan…not again.” 

“C’mon, just one more for me, baby. Fuckin’ sinful how good you feel,” he murmured against your flushed cheek. 

You nodded as you watched Logan hand move down to your overstimulated clit. The slightest pressure was enough to make your soft walls abruptly clench around his cock with a lusty ring. Rolling your hips against his, Logan was close to losing it. A growl escaped Logan’s chest as he picked up his pace–a stuttered pace. 

“That’s it, baby. Let it happen. Drench my cock.”

“Fuck, Logan!” You cried, your entire low body trembling against his. Your own arousal dripped down to your thigh, dampening your blanket.

Logan pressed your arched back closer to his hairy chest. With one final thrust, he was incoherently grunting before staining your walls with his seed. Filled with his warmth, you felt your body completely relax–finally. 

Logan's breathing was ragged against your neck. The only things that filled the room were your and Logan’s shared pants and the scent of your mixed arousals. He held you like that for a few moments, his heart pounding against your back. Logan was now having second thoughts about ravishing so rashly for your first time.

“Too much?” Logan asked, his voice tired and laced with concern as his hand softly massaged your side.

You wrapped your hand behind you to caress Logan’s cheek. A weak smile formed on your lips, “No, no…it was…” You couldn’t find the words. Your brain was foggy with gratification. Instead, you reached for your irate octopus on your nightstand. Quickly inverting the plushie, the octopus now had a gleeful expression. 

Handing it to Logan, he gruffly chuckled, accepting your response. He planted a chaste kiss on your cheek with a satisfied smile. It was just the beginning for you two–or the ten of you.

♡ note: i love hearing y'all's thoughts

[robo-writing]

Logan with a praise kink <3 (18+)

There’s something deep inside him that he refuses to acknowledge—maybe it’s instinct. A need rather than a want, one that has been neglected for far too long. One that he hadn’t even realized until you became a part of his life—the need to feel wanted.

“Logan, could you—“

He’s on his feet within before you can finish your sentence, almost hovering over you. “What’dya need?”

You point to the plates on the shelf, farther than you can manage to reach. You smile at him when he grabs them for you, giving a kiss to his cheek when you take them from his hands.

“Thank you baby,” you say, and his heart melts.

For the longest time he believed he was a lone wolf, solitary and isolated. He did better without anyone dragging him down, or so he thought until he was shown otherwise. The X-Men, and then you—he especially enjoys being with you. Makes him feel fuzzy and warm inside knowing you actually want him around.

It feels good. He doesn’t realize how good until he’s balls deep inside you.

You’re always so pliant for him, willing and ready to indulge his every sinful desire, arms open and legs spread. Inviting. Between tangled sheets and hushed whispers you make him feel alive. You make him feel like a man, and not a monster.

“Make me feel so good,” you moan, running your hands through his hair. His ego inflates with every word, hypnotized by you.

“Yeah? Say it again for me darling,” he says, bringing you further and further onto his cock. Your eyes roll back, barely able to respond when his dick makes it hard to breathe, thrusting up into you like a man starved.

“You—fuck—make me feel good—“

You cry out his praise like worship, too lust-adled to give a damn about your volume. Maybe it’s the saccharine tone you use, or maybe it’s the aphrodisiatic look you give him, but he needs more of it—more of you.

Without warning his hips move against your own, grinding into your pussy. Slow, calculated, he watches your eyes roll back in pleasure as he presses against your soft spots each and every time.

“Say it again baby, tell me how good I make you feel,” he grunts, enjoying how you thrash around his cock. His words alone make you embarrassingly hot, your head falling to his shoulders as you weakly cry his name.

Your voice hiccups with each thrust, every noise that escapes you directly in his ear. “S good Lo’, need you—please—“

His grin stretches wide at your words. “You need me baby, is that it?”

“Yes,” you moan, “need you to fuck me—“

You beg him so nicely, nails climbing up his back in search for more. Your hips find a rhythm of their own against his, a silent plea to fuck you like you need it.

His words alone make you embarrassingly hot, your head falling to his shoulders as you weakly cry his name. Your voice hiccups with each thrust, every noise that escapes you directly in his ear as you come, coating his dick in your juices—

Yeah, he could get used to this.

[dunmesh]

okay i don't have anything smart to add i just genuinely love that these seemingly trivial jokes are actually an important part of his character. we see it throughout the entire manga, how he pushes aside his own frustration and discomfort to accommodate everyone else's and avoid needless confrontation- another example off the top of my head would be the barometz chapter in which he slowly gets frustrated with izutsumi but still tries his best to talk some sense into her calmly and soundly.

and in contrast, there are very few times he expresses his anger and hurt towards others, and it usually takes a lot for him to finally lose his patience and control.

i mean, even with kabru he tried to be polite despite the circumstances until the guy said the one thing that triggers an immense sense of shame, hurt and rage in laios. and you know, the manga does say it quite clearly early on. when we are introduced to namari and then to shuro, laios acts all friendly and shows his respect and trust in them despite how things ended between them, and everyone else gets frustrated with him for acting so strange- why are you the one who tries so hard to pacify the rest when you should be the angriest?

and they don't understand him. they don't know him well enough to be able to understand, but we as readers get to see during the manga that they aren't wrong to question him- he does, in fact, feel all those ugly emotions. and it's when the winged lion finally confronts him that we see to what extent these feelings he buried so deep go, and suddenly all those funny little moments where he sometimes pretends to be mr nice guy speak volumes about his character. honestly, ryoko kui is a master at using jokes in order to define important character traits and this one doesn't fail to amaze me.

and laios's hatred and rage and deep scars he can't get over aren't shown explicitly during most of these moments i mentioned before, but now you realize there are 26 years of emotional baggage to all of them and they sting. he is angry but he can't say shit, what difference would it make? it won't make his friends choose him instead of themselves when he needed them most, and it won't help his party get any farther. of course, this logic doesn't apply to them- they are absolutely allowed to get angry and it's fine to get mad at him, he can take that.

so after finishing the series it's so clear that he tries his best to avoid clashing with others not just due to the current circumstances and him needing to be a reliable leader but also because he knows that people don't even like him when he tries to show his good sides and hide all the rest, so who the hell would tolerate his rage and despair? who would stay after realizing that he is so deeply flawed he doesn't even like his own being?

but he does get mad. he can't help it, and sometimes it gets out of control and now everyone knows. and it's funny, isn't it? that most of those moments ended up bringing him closer to others. shuro admitting he is envy of him and actually becoming the friend laios thought he was all along, fighting for his sake and waiting for him to come back- believing in him even after he turned into a monster and searching for him the way he couldn't bring himself to do for falin when he learned of what became of her- or kabru being pushed to just let it all out because he couldn't bluff his way out of this one and get to laios any other way, so now they are even. they are both horribly honest with each other and they both choose to stay. a weird way of getting to know each other, but it is what it is.

it's simply... the more laios let himself just be, the deeper his relationships grew. and there's intimacy in being your ugly, weak and furious self around someone and them not leaving you. feeling safe enough to let it be known you are hurt and angry. and he knows that now, too.

[chuluoyi]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐑𝐎𝐖𝐍 𝐎𝐅 𝐃𝐈𝐀𝐌𝐎𝐍𝐃𝐒 !

- gojo satoru x reader // zen'in naoya x reader

in the wake of your scandalous divorce, you fall into the arms of emperor gojo satoru. for a while, you believe you have found love… until it becomes clear that your new husband is scheming behind your back! love, marriage, divorce… are you doomed to go through this path the second time?

genre/warnings: 18+ suggestive content—minors do not interact!—might be ooc, angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, marriage of convenience, explicit smut, pregnancy

note: loosely inspired by and taking some elements of manhwa remarried empress. this is the second part of remarried empress au trilogy! wc. 9.2k ! thank you so much for your love in the first part🩵 but as of now, TAGLIST IS CLOSED so i'd appreciate it if the comment section won't be flooded with asks for tags :')

credit header goes to @/mongsanghwa in twitter!

prev. all hail the empress | last. long live the empire

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Heavens, help me... I love her too damn much!

For Gojo Satoru, love was once an abstract concept. At first, he thought it was admiration, or a sense of obsession—

But on the day he watched you become Zen’in Naoya’s bride, Satoru realized it was much deeper than that. It felt like the sharpest sword had pierced straight into him and lodged itself there.

And then, years later— as if hearing his prayers, you became his. Since then, his life was perfect, because he wasn't lying when he said that you were everything he wanted in life.

Yet in a twist of fate, that same sinking, horrific feeling washed over him... as he watched the pagoda he built for you engulfed in flames.

You were there. Satoru felt himself staggering as he took in the mortifying sight. You and his unborn child are inside!

He didn't waste a breath as he dashed towards where you were, crushing everything in his path in the process, but just as he was about to enter the scorching temple—

“Satoru, no!” Suguru grabbed him, restraining him with his own body. “Get back!”

“No!” he screamed at him frantically. “She is there! Suguru, let go—!”

And then the worst happened, as the pagoda completely crumbled into a heap of rubble. Satoru's breath was knocked out of him as he faced the reality that he couldn't save you in time. And he felt like losing his consciousness as he wheezed, and thrashed in Suguru's hold.

It was all too much for him to comprehend as he struggled against the devastation before him.

How... did this happen? You were happy. You were about to welcome a child into your lives! The two of you really were...

SEVERAL WEEKS PRIOR

Your husband is trying to use you to wage a war... against your homeland.

You secluded yourself in your study, trying to make sense what you just overheard.

In a broader perspective, Satoru's actions could be constituted as national defense. If he perceived the Eastern Empire as a threat, then countermeasures were indeed necessary. But if not...

Regardless, it was not the very idea that blew you, but how he planned to use you to sway sentiment in your former country, to weaken them.

Is that what he's been aiming all this time? You felt like a hypocrite to question this since you too were using him. But these days, you were certainly not using him—you were falling in love with him.

It was strange, because you were supposed to be furious if that was his intent from the start. Yet what you felt right now was profound sadness, possibly even denial and heartbreak. You kept thinking how there must be another explanation—

“Sweetheart, hello~!”

You were startled when the door to your study was suddenly flung open, and the man from your thoughts strode in with a broad grin, completely oblivious to your inner turmoil.

"Satoru." You fixed him with a genial smile, even as nausea churned within you. Straightening your skirts, you looked up at him.

"I've been told you haven't been well, and Shoko said you've seen the physician," Satoru frowned, his long fingers cradling your face as he half-sat on your desk. "How did it go? What did he say?"

"Oh..." you clammed up, feeling at loss. "He said..."

Your dashing husband tilted his head curiously, bright eyes softened, worried lines etched on his face were so clear... and despite your conflict, you didn't have the heart to deny him this news.

"I'm with child." This time, your smile was genuine as you pushed back your intrusive thoughts. "Satoru... I'm carrying our child."

For a full ten seconds, Satoru was stunned, staring at you with a blank expression, his lips slightly parted. "H-huh...? Child? A... baby?"

"Mm-hm. A living baby."

"O-oh..." Satoru blinked his eyes rapidly—looking at your face, then your abdomen—before his expression broke into absolute wonder, broadly grinning. "T-that's... oh— it's—!"

To say he was speechless didn't cut it as he stuttered, messed his hair, pinched his own cheek, becoming restless yet looking so incredibly giddy—

"My queen!" Satoru suddenly lifted you and spun you around midair. "My beautiful wife—!" before gently sitting you on the desk and burying his face in your skirts, hugging your waist tightly. "Good lord, I'm— I'm so—!"

It hadn't truly dawned on you until now that you were going to become a mother. Witnessing Satoru's unabashed reaction as he nestled his face into you… nearly brought tears to your eyes.

Right in this moment, you didn't entertain any other thoughts. You were deeply moved by your husband's overwhelming excitement for your baby. And the realization that, despite Naoya's accusations—

Satoru looked up at you the second you sniffled, and he immediately drew you closer, pressing his forehead against yours.

"Hey, no tears, yeah?" He rested a hand on your jaw, his eyes sparkling with utter adoration as he gazed at you. "This is wonderful. We're going to be parents. This child... a part of you and me—we're going to bring them into the world."

You tugged his collar close and brushed your lips against his. And he responded with equal fervor. You yearned for this closeness with him.

. . .

But still in the back of your head, that lingering, buried fear whispered—

Is the man who adores you this much... capable of hurting you to the same extent?

With your bare bodies pressed closely, and you under him, Satoru could sense the rapid beat of your heart. And in return, you felt the heat of his palms against your skin and the tremors in his breath.

Yet now, in your marital bed, it quickly became clear to him that you, who were usually so composed and collected, were nervous. Satoru couldn't suppress the smile spreading across his face even if he tried.

"This is far from our first time, Empress." His coy smirk taunted you as he littered kisses along your jawline and chest. "What are you so jittery about, hmm?"

"Ah..." you let out a soft sigh as he sucked your breast with his mouth. "N-nothing... you're mistaken."

"Hmm... not confessing? Right..." He then grabbed the generous mound of your other breast and fondled it, making you squirm and moan.

But in the midst of this eroticism, suddenly your mind was thrown back to—

“That’s why I have her here.”

"Satoru," you breathed out, catching his hands. He looked up to you in slight surprise, thinking that you wanted to stop.

But he was in for a plot twist when you first pushed him, then flipped him underneath you, straddling him and capturing his lush lips, yanking his hair in the process.

"Whoa— hey..." Satoru held your hips, visibly startled but clearly enjoying your sudden whim, snickering. "My queen—ohh— you're a sight to behold, on top of me."

He grabbed the flesh of your bottom, sinking his fingers into it and pulling you forward. You let yourself be moved until your thighs were next to his ears.

Suddenly, it was, at once, the most peculiar experience—the greatest confidence boost you had ever received, and the hottest thing he had ever seen.

"You're so damn wet already," your husband nipped your inner thigh playfully as he observed your folds, and you gasped. "Are you ready?"

In response, you slammed yourself onto his face because, right now, you were in a less than forgiving mood.

"You look good under me," you darkly retorted, but then you choked on your own breath when your husband started licking your folds messily with his tongue.

Satoru smirked at the sound of your breathless noises, responding by lapping even more fervently. Your fingers tangled in his hair, tightening their grip on his scalp as you began to grind yourself against his face.

"You a-are really n-nasty!" you moaned, voice breaking at the feeling his sinful tongue parting your opening. "Maybe y-you have lied to me… all th-is time."

Satoru furrowed his brows in slight confusion, and perhaps a bit of annoyance, as he pinched your clit in retaliation, causing you to draw in a sharp breath.

"You're— awful!" but contrary to your claims, your face contorted with pleasure as the tight coil in your belly spasmed. "How m-many women... h-have you beguiled like m-me?"

He almost laughed into your ass. Literally. If being called awful was the price for pleasuring the most beautiful woman in the lands, then Satoru would be happy to be that horrible person every day of his life.

But then, you suddenly shifted on top of him, no longer positioning your hips in his face, and he quickly caught your face, crashing his lips against yours so both of you wouldn’t part for even a second.

"Nobody else," he murmured, wet lips and tongue ravishing yours, so much lust glistening in his eyes. "I'm all yours— forever." Just as he whispered it amidst pants, he groaned when your hand sneakily went to his very hard length.

And firmly grasped it. He got swollen just by tasting you and hearing your noises earlier. He growled, and against his senses, he pushed you down to lodge it inside you, penetrating and splitting you apart in one go.

“Ah—! Satoru— it’s too…!” you babbled breathlessly, your nails digging into his shoulders, feeling his huge cock pulsing inside your tight walls.

“Your fault,” he rebuked, eyes narrowing into darker shades, rigorously moving his hips against yours as he sat up. It was impossible to hold it in any longer, he could feel it already.

He tensed up, adjusting his position, so close to losing it inside you, and when he heard your dirty mewls and felt you shudder—reverberating through his body too—Satoru gripped your waist tighter, groaning, holding you in place to release his load inside you with precision.

Your body gave in as well, releasing at the same moment his cum burst inside you. Your vision blurred as the nastiest of moans escaped you, yet you felt so safe as your husband caught you in his arms.

. . .

"Are you okay?" Satoru asked worriedly after you rolled off him in the aftermath of your bliss. "Do you feel sick?" Your unfocused eyes met his, and he looked panicked, pulling you closer. "Shit, did I go too far? I shouldn't have, especially with the baby still in the early stages..."

"I'm... okay," you croaked, trying to reassure him. "Just tired..."

Heaving a relieved sigh, Satoru pecked you in the lips.

"Am I... a mess?" you leaned on him with a blissful smile, feeling his cum still trickling out between your legs.

"Yeah... My beautiful mess, that is." Satoru chuckled, reveling in the state of your disarray. "Soon enough," his hands traced your skin before settling on your tummy, a fond smile curving his lips. "Our baby will grow here."

"Yes—" you replied, placing your palm over his. "Do you... want a boy or girl?"

A boy would be the much sought-after prince, and you fully expected him to favor it, until to your surprise, Satoru lightly hummed and pressed a kiss on your belly button.

"Does that matter? What's important is you deliver them safely and they're healthy," he chuckled. "A princess will be nice... she'll turn out to be as lovely as you."

"But the heir has to be a prince..."

"Nah. I can always amend the succession norms. I'm the emperor."

And you giggled next. Seeing how free you looked, Satoru thought you were the woman overturning his skies and stars, and you truly are—as now you are the mother of his own flesh and blood, his future empire.

There will be a nation-wide celebration for you. Satoru insisted it was a must, and he would invite dignitaries from neighboring empires and kingdoms as well.

Including the Eastern Empire.

. . .

“Your Majesty. I... bring a gift and an invitation from the Western Empire.”

Naoya clacked his heel on the carpet, casting a sharp, yet uninterested look at his aide.

“There will be a celebration for—” the poor man gulped uneasily, faltering as if he could foresee how his emperor would react. Naoya scowled.

“Spit it out.”

“The former empress’ pregnancy, Your Majesty!”

“What...?” At that moment, he snapped his head towards him. It felt like everything he had ever known came crashing down. “Y/N...?”

That can’t be possible. For many years both of you had failed. That was why he took that maid and divorced you. No, upon reflection, it was never truly his intention to divorce you—he had wanted you to raise that child if you couldn't bear one.

But then you completely ignored him and had an affair with Gojo Satoru. He was furious. He couldn't bear the disgrace of it all, so he went with the divorce, if only to assert some control. However, the joke was on him, as you ultimately fled with Gojo entirely.

But if you aren’t infertile... Then, what did that make him?

Numerous thoughts ran through his mind. Was it possible that it was his child instead of Gojo’s? How many months had it been anyway?

...or could it be that he is the one who is—!

“No...” he muttered, frantic, taking sharp breaths. “Absolute rubbish!”

The aide stared at him in fear, as Naoya appeared unhinged now. But soon, that fear gave away to pity, as the emperor trashed his desk and howled in frustration— but contrary to the expected fury, Naoya looked like he was mourning, evident by the way he flung everything but the very portrait from his coronation day.

Of him and you. Even after that disastrous divorce, he had never taken it down from the wall of his study. Now, Naoya was staring at it, a multitude emotions clouding his eyes.

This man, just as the aide had always thought, has thrown away the only good thing he has in his life.

“Are the invitations sent already?” Satoru asked with a blooming smile, rolling the yarn out of his cat’s reach as the poor kitty grappled to catch it. “And how are the preparations going?”

“Banquets are usually handled by the Empress, but you really go out of your way and do it instead,” Suguru shook his head, unamused by the added workload it brought him, especially considering his disinterest in festivities.

“They’re all sent, some of them responded—before you ask, Naoya hasn’t— and I’ve cascaded the preparation to Shoko, since I have no clue what to do about it.”

“Well, not that I care if he’s going to stay sour and wants his name tarnished in the daily papers as a bitter ex-husband…” Satoru shrugged, petting Sugu-chan as the cat purred contentedly. “He is tactless, he very well might be.”

“You really want to spite him, don’t you…” Suguru sighed. “You even sent him a note. It was unnecessary.”

“He was the one hurling curses at me and my empress first. I’m just returning the favor.”

The note in question was of lines after lines of flowery nonsense about gratitude and whatnot. Satoru imagined Naoya's vein would burst after reading his card.

“I’m happy for you, Satoru.” As exasperated as Suguru was, his smile was genuine when he said it. “A royal baby, huh...”

"Suguru." The emperor's voice suddenly dropped an octave, surprising him. "What about the placement of the totem I told you the other day?"

The abrupt shift in conversation made Suguru visibly uncomfortable, and again, they were back to this topic.

"You're seriously going to do this?" the duke asked, almost in disbelief. "Satoru, you're going to become a father. You have everything already. This will lead to war one way or another, and—what if the Empress finds out? How do you think it'll make her feel?"

However, Satoru's gaze was cold as he dismissed most of Suguru's tirade. There was a chill in his expression that made his longtime friend inwardly questioned who the man before him was.

"I'm asking you. Have you done it or not, Suguru?"

"You're going to put a curse on a whole village, Satoru."

"I told Zen'in Naoya the moment I got Y/N, that it would mark the beginning of his downfall. I'm making good on that promise."

Suguru pressed his eyes shut to calm his fury. Morally, what Satoru did was wrong, but politically, this was the art of war. Suguru purely opposed to this out of consideration for you.

Few understood Satoru's actions as well as Suguru did. He might understand, others like you and Shoko wouldn't.

"Just remember, when the Empress catches wind of this, she's going to resent you," Suguru warned. "No matter what your reasoning might be."

Satoru's upper lip curled upwards, his eyes bereft of light, narrowing with indifference.

"Unless you never tell her, that is of no relevance."

Love... has he ever loved you all this time?

Naoya had never been confronted with that question or pondered it, simply because he never considered love existed within the context of something as grand as monarchy.

You were chosen because you were well-bred and well-versed in the arts of nobility. You were indeed the epitome of an ideal empress, a fact evident throughout your tenure.

But...

"Naoya!" you yelled at him and caught his hand. "You're a fool! Why did you keep doing that!?"

It was a long-buried memory, when you were still in your teens, around the time you were just made the crown princess. His hands, bruised and bloodied, and you tended to them.

"I'm not weak, you know," he sullenly barked. "I have to train to be stronger."

"You definitely have to train, yes... but you have to take breaks!" you retorted angrily.

"Why do you care so much anyway?" he snapped back. "It's not like your hands that are injured."

And that moment, you were suddenly almost in tears. Naoya never understood why.

"Don't cry." But his instincts told him to make you not cry. "Don't cry. I'm fine, see?"

. . .

Zen'in Naoya jerked awake from his slumber, realizing he had forgotten what his dream was, that it was still the late afternoon, and he was still in his study.

All he felt was that nostalgic feeling, and it intensified when he glanced up... only to see his coronation portrait on the wall.

It was almost as if you were still here. You were incredibly stunning, he had to admit that. Why hadn’t he realized until just recently?

The way your crimson dress flowed out, and that thin, serene smile on your face... you were a picture-perfect empress, and that was not an exaggeration. No one could measure up to you—

"Your Majesty~!"

Especially not Hanabi.

"Your Majesty, the princess has started holding her head up!" Hanabi, now no longer dressed in rags but rather in one of your dresses, excitedly remarking, "Soon, she will start to—"

Naoya's gaze fell on her dress. He recognized it instantly. That specific deep, vibrant shade of red with serpent-like waistband. It was one of his gifts to you for your birthday. "Why are you wearing that?"

"Huh?" she seems perplexed. "Oh this... I thought it looks pretty..."

But to her surprise, he suddenly flared with fury. "That isn't yours, you dullard," he spat out.

Her expression sank in heartbreak as he continued with his venomous speech. "Know your place." His words cut like a blade. "And I keep telling you, a princess is of no use to the throne!"

Hanabi fought to hold back the tears, because not only had he insulted her, worse still, he showed no interest in their daughter. "She is still of your blood, Your Majesty," she replied, her voice trembling.

"I told you, I only want a heir." His sneer caused her eyes to widen in shock. "Other than that, I won't care."

"Your Majesty, please—" Hanabi was desperate for him to acknowledge their daughter, when she caught sight of your ethereal face on the wall.

He still hasn't taken it down. It made her eyes twitch, and her own anger to rise.

"The former empress..." she stared at your picture resentfully. "You still have her here. We never even have our portraits painted..."

Naoya's icy gaze leveled at her without a hint of sympathy, despite the woman standing before him being the mother of his child.

"Why do you look at me like that?" Hanabi asked, tears spilling from her eyes. "You used to care for me when you thought I would bear you a son. Even if it's a daughter, she deserves love too, doesn't she?"

In the last five years, she had come to know that the emperor wasn't always this manic person. He used to be gentler, or at least not as vindictive.

And she never truly wanted you to be cast away like that. She looked up to you, admired you from up close, and meant it when she said she would carry your legacy as best as she could.

"Are you dumb?" Naoya barked. "I told you to know your place!"

...yet why? Why are people in this palace so harsh to her?

“I wish you luck on that, Hanabi. Beware, the emperor is fickle…”

Your unkind eyes, Naoya's disdainful stares even after she gave birth to his child... She didn't even care about becoming the empress anymore. She just wanted a happy life!

"If it was the former empress' child... even if it was a princess..." Hanabi turned to him with determination even amidst her pitiful tears. "You wouldn't cast her aside just like you do now with my daughter, would you, Your Majesty?"

Naoya's gaze, devoid of emotion and filled with blatant disinterest more than anything, shot through her, hurting her more than if it was filled with fury instead.

The lack of warmth in his stare made her feel like being looked through rather than being seen. As if she is that insignificant.

"Leave," he ordered coldly next, turning his back on her.

And there is her answer.

Hanabi had been your maid for five long years. She knew who you were, what you stood for, and your whole demeanor. Yet, despite her best efforts, she could never emulate you in the same way, could she?

. . .

"My lady... don't you know that the former empress is with child?"

Once again, Hanabi felt the sting of ice when her lady-in-waiting delivered the news.

"Empress... Y/N?" she whispered. "How...?"

You were stripped of your titles here, and yet you still remained a queen somewhere else. Hanabi might have won Naoya's favor, but now she was losing it while you had another emperor's affection.

Not much had changed about you. You still occupied the highest seat a woman could possibly attain. Whereas she...

"But she is barren!" she turned to her confidant then, almost in disbelief.

"Evidently not. Emperor Gojo has proven that."

How nice. A part of Hanabi wanted to congratulate you because she knew of your sufferings—how much you longed to hold a baby from your womb in your arms.

How unfair... But another part of her couldn't help but despise you. Because even in your absence, she still had to live in your shadow. Because you, who had lost everything, regained it all so easily.

"And my lady... Emperor Gojo is going to throw a banquet for this occasion next month. You are expected to attend it."

"Sweetheart, you asleep?"

One night, several weeks later, just as you were about to drift off to sleep, you felt the sheets shift as Satoru slipped into bed beside you.

Though you didn't turn to face him, you felt his warm hands wrap around your waist from behind.

"Satoru... you're back," you murmured sleepily.

"Mm-hmm," he whispered, pulling you closer to his chest and burying his face in your hair, taking in your scent. "Shoko told me you've been in your bedchamber since breakfast. Are you okay?"

"I get queasy if I walk too much, so I've been lying down all day... But don't worry, the physician said it's normal in early stages of pregnancy."

His grip on you tightened, as he caressed your belly. "Hmm, naughty baby. I'm sorry I wasn't here..."

"Where were you?"

For days now, he had been away, and you hadn't really questioned him. You had your guesses though—

"I was overseeing the construction of a new pagoda," he said softly, kissing your neck. "For you, actually."

That was so unexpected that it made you open your eyes fully. "What— for me?" Building pagoda was definitely not a small affair. Usually it was for religious purposes.

"It's a gift to the heavens for blessing me with you and our baby. It's expected to be completed before your celebration banquet."

The tower would be the testament of his love for you and your unborn child. Despite yourself, your heart swelled with overwhelming warmth.

"You're so silly... why do you spend the tax funds for that?" you brushed off the faint heat in your face, not daring to look at him still.

"Whatever I wouldn't do for you?" he cheekily retorted, chuckling.

You had never felt this cherished before, and this time you were certain—you were more than ready to fall in love with this man.

But he... is planning to use you, isn't he?

"Satoru." You shuffled to turn and face him, causing him to crack his lidded eyes open. You gazed at him, placing both of your hands on his face, caressing his face softly.

You're so kind to me. I appreciate you for that. You wanted to tell him various things, but the darkness in your heart ever since overhearing his exchange with Suguru made it hard for you to do so.

"Mm? What is it?" he drawled with a small smile, leaning into your touch.

“You... love me, don't you?”

His bright eyes found yours then, sharp and steady. An impossibly fond smile graced his lips, as if finding what you said the most natural thing there was.

“Throughout heaven and earth,” he proclaimed, his voice steady to match his eyes. “Yes, my queen.”

...then you would trust him, if only just for this moment. The genuine sincerity in his eyes, the raw authenticity in his words... it all felt too real.

And so, even when you were well-aware of the bitter possibility of truth, you leaned in and kissed him, giving yourself to his touch as his hand slipped inside you.

And soon, came the day of the lavish banquet solely held to celebrate your pregnancy.

You were seated on your throne, dressed in a stunning aquamarine gown. The skirt of the dress was full and flowing, spilling onto the floor in a waterfall of shimmering fabric. Upon your head perched your crown of diamonds, glinting beneath the light, and your ceremonial veil to make you look as queenly as you could possibly be.

Everyone would agree that you were a sight to behold, and that you were worthy of every praise possible.

"Many congratulations to you, Your Majesty."

"This is a splendid news! A royal baby!"

"To think that the emperor has settled down... sniff, how long have we been waiting for this...? We almost gave up."

You almost giggled at the way Archbishop Yaga wiped his tears with a handkerchief as he presented you with his gift.

Despite your initial reservations, you enjoyed the festivities more than you expected. You had opposed the idea at first, finding it quite unnecessary, but Satoru had pouted for three long days until you eventually relented to appease him.

Speaking of him, he was equally dressed to impress, looking every bit as an emperor he was in an exquisite aquamarine military uniform and robes. Despite engaging in conversation with Earl Nanami, he kept a watchful eye on you, stealing glances in your direction to ensure you were well.

You nodded at him, and he threw you a wink. You smiled.

Everything was truly going well... until the herald announced:

"Prince Megumi and Royal Consort Hanabi from Eastern Empire!"

There was suddenly a hush over the crowd as the two made their entrance. You stilled, looking at the figure responsible for your checkered life—

Hanabi was starkly different since the last you saw her at the courthouse during your divorce. Her dress was now a vibrant shade of burgundy red, reminiscent of a gown you once wore. Gone was her air of humility, replaced by a display of extravagance befitting a noblewoman.

She is no longer your maid, but Naoya's consort. There was no trace of the woman who once served you. You were actually impressed, as she could actually shape herself into the image of a royal consort.

"Empress." However, your attention quickly shifted to Naoya's nephew, and once also your ward, Megumi, as he bowed before you respectfully. "Congratulations."

A fond smile tugged at the corners of your lips as you regarded the young prince who had once been a very shy individual. It reminded you of the days spent with him just to get him out of his shell.

"Thank you, Megumi."

"Diamonds suit you far better than golds do. I wish only for the best for you, Your Majesty."

It warmed your heart, really. Using that reference to your gold crown from your time in the Eastern Empire, you could see how much Megumi truly understood your position and bore no resentment towards you.

Could the same be said for Naoya though?

Right after you received his gift—an ornate box that seemed oddly familiar to you—Hanabi suddenly blurted out:

"So, fate has smiled upon you. Congratulations Empress Y/N." She kept that soft, meaningful smile on her face as she offered her felicitations.

Ever since her arrival was announced, something about her demeanor had bothered you. There was a subtle emptiness that seemed to linger in her gaze.

"Thank you," you responded, and that was when you noticed it. There was never any celebration for the birth of her daughter and Naoya, only a passing announcement.

And so, you added. "Congratulations on the birth of the princess too."

You could have sworn her expression fell for a moment, but she quickly regained her composure and bowed her head to you.

For a while, you lost sight of her in the crowd, feeling quite comfortable in your dais. Soon after, Satoru returned to your side, and the herald announced:

"Attention! His Majesty the Emperor's gift for Her Majesty the Empress!"

You looked at Satoru questioningly, and he gave you a dashing smirk before turning to the crowd.

"Thank you, all of you, for joining us to celebrate this joyous occasion." The way he carried himself and the sheer confidence he exuded was mesmerizing, you couldn't deny how it made you swoon. "I've been infamous for many things, and I'm sure the tales have spread far and wide. So please, allow me one more gesture with you as the witnesses."

The crowd giggled at his words, and you finally spotted Hanabi among them, quietly assessing the scene.

Your husband turned to you, a soft smile on his face.

"This is for you my empress— my lovely queen. Words can't describe how elated I am to know that now you bear our child." He took your hand and pressed a kiss on it. "And it's only fitting that I praise you along with the skies and the stars."

A footman arrived and presented a pearly box. Satoru opened it, revealing a necklace inside. The centerpiece was a large, flawless diamond surrounded by smaller, perfectly cut stones of the same kind. No matter how you saw it, it was truly a work of art, meant to captivate and dazzle anyone who laid eyes on it.

You let out a gasp. "This..."

Satoru grinned, picking up the jewelry and preparing to place it on you. "Nothing much. Just a little trinket for you."

"This is not just a 'little trinket'!"

Your banter elicited another round of snickers from the audience as Satoru fastened the necklace around your neck. The moment he did, the crowd erupted into applause.

"Actually, my real gift is the new pagoda in the royal gardens, built in honor of the Empress," Satoru stated effortlessly, grinning unabashedly. "Feel free to stop by later, everyone."

To the ton, for him to gift you with something so sacred was the height of extravagance. Some of them wondered how you had managed to turn the elusive emperor into someone so devoted to you.

And a few... might be harboring ill will against you for it.

. . .

Later that night, you were sorting through the gifts you had received throughout the day.

"I don't understand, why would you give an expecting woman this?" Shoko picked apart a manuscript that was the gift from Archbishop Yaga. "Who would read this?"

"I wouldn't, but I'm sure Duke Geto would," you replied, and soon the two of you were giggling together.

From jewelry to ornaments, you were pleased with all the gifts presented by the guests from day one. While most were given out of formality, it was heartwarming to imagine your baby seeing all these someday.

Your attention soon turned to the box Megumi handed you earlier—Naoya's gift.

You were intrigued, because what could your spiteful ex-husband could possibly give you? And you immediately reached over to open the lid to find...

"What's that?" Shoko asked as your eyes widened in slight surprise.

Inside the box was an intricate gold and ruby necklace. One you knew well. The very one you wore during your coronation as the Empress of the Eastern Empire.

Years ago, Naoya himself had chosen this piece for you, and now he was gifting it to you, again?

“From now on, it’s going to be me and you, Empress.”

Reliving years of your marriage with him wasn't easy. You two were childhood sweethearts, and had been happy in the beginning. You couldn't pinpoint when things began to fall apart, but suddenly Naoya turned into such a person you didn't recognize altogether.

Seeing this relic made you nostalgic, and before you realized it, you touched it, trying to get a better look—

"Ah—!"

Suddenly, a sharp, unexpected pain shot through your abdomen. You instantly dropped the jewelry, letting it crash to the ground, and clutched your lower belly.

"Empress! What happened?!" Shoko rushed to your side in an instant, holding you up, and you whimpered.

"It hurts—!" Your breath hitched, as a seemingly invisible knife gutted you from inside. The intensity of the pain was overwhelming, leaving you gasping for breath. "Shoko, please—"

And before you could even scream or think, the pain blindsided you and your vision titled, before blacking out completely.

First came the warmth, then a reassuring squeeze on your hand. As your consciousness returned, you felt groggy, with your surroundings sharpening into focus.

The first thing that became your main focus the moment your eyes fluttered open was Satoru's face, a mixture of fright and relief etched across his features.

"You're awake..." He breathlessly muttered, sitting on your bedside, interlacing his fingers with yours. "How do you feel?"

"Sa...toru..." your voice was hoarse, barely above a whisper, and as soon as he heard you speak, he exhaled sharply, pulling you into a tight embrace.

"Heavens, I—" he let out a long sigh, his breath hot against your neck. "I'm so glad... you are..."

"What h-happened to me...?" you were feeling feverish and a dull throb was pounding at the back of your head, before the shock of it all dawned on you. "B-baby...! Our—!"

"Baby is okay too, don't worry," Satoru assured, pulling away from you to gently touch your cheek and squeeze your hand. "Both of you are fine for now..."

The horror that you might lose your baby shook you to the very core. Your vision blurred with the threatening onset of tears.

"Wh-at happened to me, Satoru...?" you asked again as he wiped your first falling tears, your heartbeat sounding so loud in your ears. "I-I was just..."

His expression took on a sudden shift, as if a dark cloud had passed over his face.

"You came into contact with a cursed object," he stated, his eyes hard as he locked onto yours. "You were cursed, Y/N."

"What...?" You were rendered speechless, feeling your body starting to shake. Cursed object? Your past coronation necklace?

Naoya was trying to curse you?

"It's okay, I'm here now, yeah?" Satoru's voice broke through your spiraling thoughts, grounding you in the present. "Look at me. Hey, look at me." he repeated, his deep blue eyes locking onto yours with intensity.

“I’m here. I’m here with you. Nothing—absolutely nothing—will touch you so long as I’m here.”

But in that moment, your mind was so overwhelmed with fear for yourself and your unborn baby that you couldn't fully grasp the magnitude of the mess unfolding before you, and you just cried in his arms.

Feeling your feeble fingers fisting his robes and your inconsolable tears staining his collar, Satoru gritted his teeth.

“This won't happen again,” he whispered into your hair, feeling his rage simmering as he felt the tremors of your sobs against his chest. “I swear, I won't let anything like this happen again.”

To Satoru, that was more than enough to justify all his subsequent actions. Putting a curse on his empress essentially amounted to an act of beginning a war.

And it also meant he no longer had to operate behind the scenes.

“Keep them in Clock Tower. No contact. Only food and water at designated times.”

Satoru's icy gaze on the captain of royal guard compelled him to hastily comply with the order, before his eyes landing on the map of the entire continent.

In response to the incident that befell you, he issued orders for open hostility along the eastern and western borders. Soon after, he would formally declare his intention to go to war.

So close. He was so close to achieving his end goal.

. . .

"Satoru!"

Several days later, Suguru burst into his study, visibly outraged. He clenched his fists, looking as if he was about to throttle him altogether.

"You—" he heaved a harsh breath. "You have gone too far!"

"What are you talking about, Suguru?"

"Is cursing the entire winery village not enough for you?" This was the first time Suguru had been this furious with him. "Did you really have to massacre the neighboring district as well?!"

"They have placed a curse on my empress." It was so easy for him to say it. "Anyone who dares to harm her shall die."

"You can direct it at Zen'in Naoya! Not the innocent civilians!"

Satoru remained silent, neither shaken nor enraged, and he had finally had enough.

“Are you even sure it’s because the empress is cursed?" Suguru challenged. In his view, this farce had been going on too long.

“No, Satoru. You are just using her. For so long, you have wanted to bring bloodshed to Western Empire. You were almost there when Empress Y/N proposed that deal to marry you.”

You were informed, days later.

“His Majesty has placed the prince and royal consort of the Western Empire under strict watch in Clock Tower.”

Clock Tower was essentially the prison where they kept war criminals. Learning that Satoru had confined both Megumi and Hanabi there left you aghast.

After some days of bedrest and getting better, you realized that the entire situation still didn't make sense to you. As hateful as Naoya was, harming you would do him more harm than good. Eastern and Western Empires stood evenly matched in military power, and hence, a conflict between them would bring devastation to both sides.

And moreover, you knew for sure was that Megumi was definitely not the one responsible for this. He was just a boy!

You had to let him out somehow. You had to talk to Satoru about this.

Or at least that was what you thought when you came close to his study.

“Are you even sure it's because the empress is cursed? No, Satoru. You are just using her. For so long, you have wanted to bring bloodshed to Western Empire. You were almost there when Empress Y/N proposed that deal to marry you.”

You stopped on your tracks—stunned into place, to be exact.

“And you’ve struck gold when she did because her influence will provide you with greater advantage.” Suguru scoffed then, lightly shaking his head with a sneer. “Love? How laughable. All these years, you are planning your warpath, how could you claim you love her when you're trying to ravage her homeland without even considering the impact it would have on her?”

It felt like whiplash. Geto Suguru's voice had your feet rooted to the spot, causing all your doubts to resurface and sizzle in an instant. The very question you had tried to avoid, it was suddenly shoved in your face.

What... will Satoru say? Your heart thumped so loud in your ears it made you almost stagger. He couldn't possibly. He simply couldn't. All his actions... they reflected his affection for you and you believed it because you felt it yourself too.

But Satoru's next response was—

“Even when she is derided as the devil, I will bring an end to the Zen’in line in this lifetime.”

And a part of your heart withers then.

The tips of your fingers trembled, finally taking in everything that you had tried to ignore for the past few weeks. It all caught up to you in one overwhelming rush.

Suddenly, it felt as if something inside your chest was torn out and held up for you to see.

"I'm telling you, that day will come sooner than you think, Satoru." Suguru's voice broke through, his frustration palpable. His words snapped you out of your reverie, and you took a step back, retreating to the safety of your study.

The first time you felt utter hollowness wrecking you was when you had suspected that Naoya might have taken Hanabi to his bed. The feelings overwhelming you now were eerily similar to how you felt back then.

Only in this case…

You had used him first, and if he used you in return... you couldn't fault him.

But isn't it still a bitter truth, even when a mutual transaction is very well within his rights, to know that what you believe as love may apparently not really be the case?

Love... of course, he loves you.

Of that, he was certain.

But at the same time… he had his ambitions.

Destroying the Eastern Empire. Was it so wrong that he wanted it? Didn't you want this as well? After all, Naoya had spurned you for a lowly servant and made your life hell, didn’t he?

Satoru strolled through the halls and made his way to your study, where the sight of you, so pretty and regal in your seat, greeted him.

His beautiful, graceful wife and empress of his nation. For so long, he had desired you, and now here you were, perched within his walls. His heart couldn't be more full— his life is complete already.

"Sweetheart, hey... how are you feeling today?" an adoring grin was visible on his face as he approached you. "Does the baby give you trouble today?"

You didn't answer though, and didn't look at him either. It was quite strange, Satoru thought.

"What's wrong? Is there something—" And when you finally turned to him, the look in your eyes was so eerily cold it almost gave him a chill.

"Release Megumi from your dungeon," you told him with a strained tone. "And return him to his home empire."

The smile on Satoru's face vanished that instant.

"I can't do that."

You rose from your seat, facing him. "He is just a child."

Satoru regarded you with a stern look. “That child you speak about is a prince of the Eastern Empire. He has committed a great crime against you.”

“Naoya didn’t do it.” Your steely gaze was unflinching. “He might be senseless, but he isn’t insane enough to deliberately go into a war he might possibly lose.”

Satoru's eyes darkened at your words, as you stood before him with determination. The way you were so adamant somehow took him aback. “How... could you defend him? He has wronged you!”

It was one question you had expected, and you had the answer ready.

“Even if he has, I could never wish doom upon my own homeland, Satoru. I’ve lived most of my life there, I did a great deal of things there— even if you harbor some sort of misguided contempt or just bloodthirsty enough to lay ruin to Eastern Empire, I refuse to be the puppet for your schemes!”

There it was. You had said it. Everything would crumble once again just like your previous marriage.

Satoru was staring at you in slight disbelief, his eyes gleamed with something that you couldn't really pinpoint. Anger? Disappointment?

“Your life was in danger, as was our unborn child’s. Don’t you care about that—!” he actually had to stop to catch his breath. “Don’t you care that our child nearly didn't make it?”

“And? You must have thought it was the perfect grounds for declaring a war?” but you didn’t relent and questioned him with a scoff. “And afterwards, you would try to use me to gain defectors from Eastern Empire, is that it?”

You saw the flash of surprise in your now-husband's eyes right when you recited his words, but you weren't about to hold back any longer now.

“Now you’re using my safety to justify your actions,” you hissed, feeling like suddenly you understood what all of this was. “You’re quite cunning, Satoru. I’ve heard everything—you will do anything to bring an end to the Zen'in lineage! You won’t even consider the repercussions of my reputation being tarnished across the lands!”

“Is that even important now?” Satoru gritted his teeth to suppress his irritation. “You have been cursed. Do you honestly think I would let them get away with cursing my empress? How could I, who seek to protect you, be more vicious than whoever in Eastern Empire who cursed you with that necklace?”

“You’re doing this for your personal gratification!” you exclaimed. “It is never about me. You’re just a warmonger!”

The moment those words left your lips, Satoru stilled. His gaze on you faltered, and you could’ve sworn hurt flashed in his face.

“Just how low… is your opinion of me?” he asked, his tone dropping, eyes devoid of emotion. “You jump into conclusions only after overhearing something in a passing and yet you know for sure Naoya wouldn’t harm you—” he clenched his jaw.

“You… really loved him, didn’t you?” he asked with a sardonic smile. “I know it already. You won’t ever be able to do the same for me. You can’t even trust me.”

You were rendered speechless. Despite your doubts of him, hearing this still felt like a slap in your face.

Won’t be able to do the same for him? No. That’s not true. You are—

Satoru let out a defeated laugh and ran his hand through his hair, leaving you uncertain whether he was amused or heartbroken by your lack of response.

“It’s funny, how I have loved you for so long... but apparently the woman I believed to have even a semblance of affection for me doesn’t even exist.”

It felt like that one part of you that was capable of feeling love had been stabbed once again.

To say this out loud hurt you deeply, unbeknownst to him. You didn’t mean this at all, still it was what came out of you, out of spite—

“In the end, we’re just using each other. That’s all we amount to.”

Satoru bitterly snorted, finding your accusation so unfair to him.

“How cruel is it that I’m the only one who has to prove this love to you? What about you? You’re terribly, horribly selfish!”

You stayed silent, looking away, caught between the scorching knives that seemed to twist your heart and conflicting emotions in it, uncertain of what to believe anymore. And you didn't really know what heartbreak was like before—

“It has been really exhausting, and I don’t want to bother anymore.”

When his gaze next met yours, dark and piercing, you realized he was no longer the same man who once promised you love and devotion.

“You're free to believe whatever truth you wish. But remember, even if you are my wife and the empress of this nation, should you commit any transgressions… I won’t hesitate to accuse you of treason, Empress.”

You have committed treason.

Satoru had conducted investigation of the sorts just to prove his point. And yet days later, no direct evidence pointing towards Megumi or Hanabi were found in that cursed necklace.

Punishment for treason is imminent death. You were well-aware of that more than anyone, but your consciousness wouldn't allow it if Megumi had to be hanged due to Satoru's antagonism.

"Your Majesty, your kindness knows no bounds," Megumi said, dropping to one knee before you and lowering his head in the throne room. Satoru had chosen not to grace any of you with his presence, leaving you alone to bid farewell to both Megumi and Hanabi.

Since then, you hadn't spoken with him, nor had he visited your chambers. It was as if he considered you nonexistent at all.

And it is really only a matter of time before he finds out.

But at the very least, you were right. It was never Megumi. That boy was fond of you, he could never. So, you shifted your gaze on the woman next to him.

"Royal Consort Hanabi. A word."

It was the cue for everyone else to exit the throne room. Now, you were faced with this woman once again, and yet one thing remained the same— you were still towering over her.

"Why did you do it?" Your calm gaze betrayed a quiet anger that was unmistakably clear. All because of this woman. It was beyond you, how despite having left your past life behind, she had somehow managed to taint your new one as well.

Hanabi looked away, a hint of shame coloring her features. "Your Majesty knows, so why do you spare me?" she asked quietly.

"How preposterous of you to think that I have spared you," you scoffed. "All this time, have you learned nothing at all from standing by Naoya's side?"

She flinched, visibly making herself smaller at your unforgiving tone, still, she dared herself to meet your eyes.

"Can I ask... why you never consider it as Emperor Naoya's doing?" she seemed more confused more than anything, even as her lips wobbled. "The two of you... you don't really hate each other, so why...?"

You didn't want to dwell on why Naoya had chosen that specific piece of jewelry to return to you. If anything, you'd consider it his final parting gift and be done with it.

But the naivety of this woman was astounding. Someone like her wouldn't last long in your seat. You let out a sigh, torn between feeling sorry for her or not.

"You have much to learn about court affairs, Hanabi. And do not think this is an act of mercy. Sending you back to Naoya is a punishment in itself—you know that by now."

Hanabi trembled where she stood, her breaths were shallow, and her hands shook slightly as she struggled to maintain composure in your presence.

Realizing it was futile to continue the conversation, you decided to conclude it.

"Know that I will never forgive you for what you have done to me." Your sharp eyes squared on her, the cold ire in your tone making her shudder.

In all the years Hanabi had known you, you had never appeared more fearsome than you did now, adorned in silks of deep blue hues, with that crown of diamonds gleaming in your head.

Then, as if sealing her fate, you delivered these parting words:

"You've always coveted what I have, and sooner or later, that will be your downfall."

The palace felt suffocating for you. After sending Hanabi away, you took a walk in the gardens, followed closely by your ladies-in-waiting.

Good heavens, what have you done? You definitely didn't regret saving Megumi, but no matter how, you had committed a great crime against your own empire. A sentence would loom over your head!

And what about your baby? Would Satoru execute you while you still had his child inside you?

The very thought made your vision tilt, and you had to lean on the wall for support. Your ladies-in-waiting were immediately clamoring against each other.

"Leave," you commanded, trying to catch your breath while doing so. "I'll… take some time to rest here."

It took you a moment to realize you had reached the pagoda that Satoru had commissioned for you. This was your first time visiting it. The structure was magnificent, towering in height and adorned with exquisite decorations, leaving you in awe.

"It's a gift to the heavens for blessing me with you and our baby."

You wanted to cry. His voice, soft and smooth, conveyed those words so easily to you. He really loved you, didn't he? What made you so unsure about that undeniable fact?

And now you had broken his heart.

Your hand reached for your belly. Though hidden by your dress, you could distinctly feel that it had become firmer these days, holding the product of your love with Satoru.

"I'm sorry, baby..." you whispered, heartbroken. "I didn't mean to drag you into this too..."

You felt nauseous, your breaths come in short pants, and you felt a headache coming. It didn't really register to you that you had crashed into the candle table, before you collected yourself and ventured deeper inside.

You just wanted a sense of peace and quiet. You would think more later, and right now, the darkness inside felt like a comforting lull for you to rest.

. . .

Or at least that was what you had intended, until you looked back and saw the swirling inferno creeping through the halls.

It didn't take long for Satoru to figure out you had really orchestrated Megumi's release.

More than his wounded pride, it was the searing pain of realizing that you truly believed he was only using you for his own benefit. It felt like an insult to everything he had done for you.

Why couldn't you see that? Just how hard is it for you to understand?

And now that it had come to this... what did you expect from him? Should he really make good on his word and punish you? It tore his heart to even consider it.

However, what was worse was… did you think he was really capable of that too?

Amidst his heartache, suddenly he heard loud commotion from outside his study, yells and cries of help— and it roused him from his thoughts that he came out of his study, only to come right into a familiar face.

"Anyone! Anyone at all!" one of your maids was running, sobbing and hysterical. "Her Majesty! Please help Her Majesty!"

"What is all of this ruckus?" Satoru demanded, catching the maid by the hand, as she stuttered in tears.

And then, everything came crashing down with the next words.

"The Empress— is trapped inside the burning tower!"

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