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insertsickusername13 · 2 years ago

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Richjake week day four babyyyy

prompt: fire

word count: 2.1k

Summary: Rich struggles to light a candle for a romantic dinner with Jake.

Rich was pretty sure he was going to light the candle wick on fire with just his gaze.

He’d been there for ten minutes already, the match in his hand unreasonably heavy and the matchbox even more so. It was just a candle. A small, cheap candle he’d bought for $1.39 at a Walgreens down the street. He was going to light it on fire. He was not going to freak out. Jake was going to think it was romantic.

Everything else was already set up: the usually bare kitchen table they’d snatched from a curb a couple of miles away had been replaced by a smaller, round, dark-wood table and a fancy white tablecloth (the table from a second-hand antique store downtown, the white table cloth from Brooke’s attic—he’d gotten it when Jake and him had returned to Jersey for the holidays. Three months ago.).

There was a small vase with a single rose at the center. Plates and Jake’s parents’ fancy silverware that had miraculously survived the fire were already set out.

And there was a candle.

Though it was smaller than almost everything else on the table it seemed to stand tall, looming over Rich with a cruel smirk on its nonexistent waxy lips.

Rich inhaled a shaky breath.

He could do this. It was just a candle. There was nothing destructive about a candle. Rich wouldn’t knock it over and catch the tablecloth on fire, then the kitchen, then their entire apartment. Jake wouldn’t come home to ashes instead of his boyfriend and a romantic dinner. Candles were normal. Candles were fine. Rich could light a candle.

But he could hear the SQUIP’s voice in his head. It’d been disjointed on Halloween, robotic and borderline meaningless. If anyone else had been listening—Jake, Jeremy, Michael—they would’ve heard pure nonsense. The ramblings of a lunatic.

Rich had understood every word. He didn’t need to hear its voice to feel his entire body being shot with electricity repeatedly. He’d barely been conscious of his own hands as they poured gasoline all over Jake’s bed and in his closet. Fire, fire, fire, fire. He’d done it trembling, half unconscious and half possessed. He could do it now if he wanted. He didn’t. But he could. He just had to…

Rich dropped the match. Dropped the matchbox. He fell to his knees, his body shaking uncontrollably just like it had when it was still in his head, when it’d told him Rich deserved hell manifested on Earth, when it'd forced him to destroy everything he'd ever loved.

He wanted to cover his face, to hide his shame and the tears he knew were boiling over out of his eyes, but he could’ve sworn he saw the residue of gasoline on his fingertips. He couldn’t bear the thought of contaminating the rest of himself with such a destructive, infectious substance. He held his hands out as far as he could, the terror of what he’d done choking him, the weight of it so heavy he thought he could see the floor opening up, swallowing him and everything he’d done since to try and undo what he’d done, to erase—

“Rich?”

And suddenly keeping himself pure meant nothing. He pressed his hands against his abdomen, hiding them in his shirt. Just as long as Jake didn’t see, as long as he didn’t get ruined, then Rich would be okay.

Rich hadn’t realized how bad it’d gotten until he tried to respond to Jake and the words burned so bad he couldn’t get them past his throat. He opened his mouth helplessly, every apology he could muster trapped between his teeth, and looked up at Jake for… for something. For help. For comfort. For damnation and guilt-tripping and everything he probably deserved.

Jake dropped his bag and, using his cane for support, knelt in front of Rich.

“Baby? Hey,” as if he somehow knew of every self-destructive thought that had run through Rich’s head since he’d first bought that candle from goddamn Walgreens, he grabbed both of Rich’s hands and carefully unclenched them, his touch softer than anything Rich had never known. “What’s wrong?”

What’s wrong? It’d been so long since Junior year that being on the floor crying didn’t always mean the fire anymore. Sometimes it was missing his dad. Sometimes it was fear of graduation. Sometimes it had nothing to do with the SQUIP and everything that had happened because of it.

Rich choked out a sob as he pulled himself closer to Jake, desperate for the warmth he provided. He was a magnetic sun—technically Rich could look at him and see fire and destruction but all he saw were beaches and flowers and summertime. Thank the lord for that.

“It’s okay,” Jake whispered. He didn’t know what was wrong, yet he said it with visceral confidence—it’s okay. Rich will be okay. Jake will be okay. He ran his hands through Rich’s hair and repeated the words again and again. At some point he tried to slip in other reassurances, things he’d heard from Rich’s therapist—five things you can see, you’re worthy, can you breathe?—but he was cut off by Rich’s murmuring against his shoulder.

“I just wanted a candle,” he borderline sobbed out, snotty and muffled, “So I could give you dinner and it could be romantic and I’m sorry, I couldn’t do it.”

“Babe—” Jake lifted Rich off his shoulder, a small smile on his face, “—we don’t need a candle for dinner.”

Of course, Jake would say that. Of course, he wouldn’t even notice, the goddamn angel. He wasn’t the one who got dragged to expensive restaurant after expensive restaurant for grand anniversaries and birthdays while struggling with the knowledge that he could never afford any of this on his own. That the paycheck he brought home every month was minuscule compared to even a small percentage of Jake’s fortune. Jake never had to wonder if he was a leech, sucking up spare bits of affection and funds where he could. He didn’t notice the candles and roses at every restaurant they went to. That was Rich’s job.

Rich squeezed his eyes shut against Jake’s open expression. Even faced with complete darkness, he heard Jake’s voice saying, “Deep breaths.”

Rich obliged. One breath in, one breath out, slow and steady, until he could look at it like Jake was: Just a candle.

“I’m still thoroughly romanced, y’know,” Jake whispered. He cupped Rich’s jaw and ran his thumb over his eyelashes, “I've got those stupid butterflies and all.”

Rich scoffed, the cruise Jake had taken him on for his twenty-first birthday still playing in his mind. The concert they’d gone to for his twenty-second. Objectively, he knew this was enough. He was enough. He’d been to countless therapists and fought endless battles to get to the point where he knew Jake didn't need more than this, that money didn’t matter, that Jake loved him for things like this, but that doubt—bitter, poisonous, ruinous—hovered, waiting for its moment to sink its teeth into Rich’s skin.

“Yeah,” Rich replied, and it was more to himself than it was to Jake—a vocalization of his own self-deprecating thoughts, not meant for anyone else to hear, “Romanced enough to marry me?”

He didn’t realize what he’d said until he felt Jake’s hand go slack on his face. Fuck. Fuck, no, he had a fucking speech. He wasn’t supposed to say that—

Rich looked up, eyes wide, everything else blurred and forgotten—fuck candles and fuck money and fuck the dinner he planned, he’d just accidentally fucking proposed. All he saw was Jake’s expression, all he felt was lightning in his chest and stomach. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

“Hm?” Jake squeaked. He looked about as shell-shocked as Rich, if not more so.

Rich had two choices: chicken out or own up to it. The fact Jake’s panicked expression—comically wide eyes, lips pressed together to stop himself from breaking out into a smile, cheeks bordering between pink and red—was so beautiful Rich was pretty sure he wanted to kiss it until he died was an answer in and of itself.

He fumbled for the ring in his pocket only vaguely aware of Jake’s jaw dropping as he pulled it out. He wiped his face with the sleeve of his shirt, erasing the remnants of his breakdown to the best of his ability. He had a boyfriend to propose to. A perfect, pretty, loving boyfriend, and he was not going to let that be tainted by his own lingering insecurities.

“Okay,” he said, taking a deep breath. Jake looked like he was going to pass out. “Okay, I was supposed to do this later, but you’re—shit, I’m supposed to be on one knee.”

Still shaking, Rich struggled to untangle himself from Jake’s limp grasp enough to prop himself up on one knee.

“Okay, starting over, I wanted—I was gonna do this while we were eating dessert, I thought you might be more likely to say yes if I was feeding you ca—”

“Yes,” Jake blurted, “Yes. The answer’s yes. Right now.”

Rich blinked.

“I’m uh, I haven’t even talked about how much I love you yet.”

“I don’t care. Yes. I want to be engaged to you as soon as possible. Get fucking—” he scrambled over to Rich, glowing like a buttercup or sunflower. Rich was so enchanted by the sight he couldn’t find it in himself to protest as Jake shakily took the ring ($3,471—Rich spent eight months saving up) from the box and held it out to Rich.

“Put it on me,” he said, “Put it on, I—”

Rich took the ring and slipped it on Jake’s finger. He got the privilege of watching the stars and sky light up as Jake broke out into a golden grin. Pretty, he thought, pretty, pretty, pretty—

Jake launched himself at Rich, knocking them both flat onto the floor, his arms finding their way around Rich’s waist with starved desperation and his lips colliding with whatever skin he had access to: first Rich’s neck, then his cheek, then his lips, over and over until Jake was crying so hard he had to stop just to get the chance to breathe.

“You proposed to me,” he giggled, “You fucking proposed, you… oh my god.”

Rich threw his head back laughing. He couldn’t say it, couldn’t vocalize it like Jake was trying to do, but everything felt coated in unbridled elation. Jake wanted to marry him. Jake said yes. He was getting married to his best friend and they were going to spend the rest of their lives together.

“I do,” Jake said, propping himself up on his elbows so he could look down at Rich, “I do. Can we get married right now?”

“I think we should eat dinner first, sweetheart, I spent all day cooking.”

Jake perked up.

“Really?”

“Yeah, I made those scallops the way you like ‘em and pasta.”

Jake’s eyes lit up. Like a kid in a candy store (except that candy store only sold expensive seafood), Jake climbed off Rich and sat at the table.

“I am so fucking glad I’m marrying you,” he said, already laying his napkin out on his lap.

Rich flushed as he got to his feet, planning to grab their plates from the kitchen to show Jake the fruits of his labor, but was stopped by his foot colliding with—

With a matchbox. A small, unassuming matchbox that singlehandedly had the power to tear Rich apart limb by limb.

Nothing could dim the giddiness he’d felt since Jake said yes. With unfounded confidence, he picked up what would usually be made of flames and fear and opened it, carefully taking a match into his hand.

He could do this. He could light a candle for a romantic dinner with his boyf—fiancé.

He struck the match.

Jake blew it out.

Rich stared at the charred wood for a second, uncomprehending, before looking up at Jake. He almost wanted to scream. He couldn’t do that again. Once was enough, there was no way he’d be able to make more fire.

“There’s no point,” Jake said.

“I want—”

“I broke it.”

Rich blinked at him.

“What?”

“I broke the candle.”

“How do you break a candle—”

Jake glanced nervously under the table. Despite Rich's disblief, there the candle was. Broken.

It’d been mushed down into a mound of wax, the wick bent and covered in so much wax there was no way it’d light even if Rich wanted it to. Rich felt like he’d just been pulled from the brink of insanity by an angel.

“I don’t need a candle,” Jake said, flashing Rich a crooked, nervous grin.

“Oh.”

A pause. It was a hurricane of a moment, the silence complete and violent despite the exultation that had drowned the room a moment earlier.

Then, voice quiet with shame, Rich said, “I… I fucking hate candles.”

Jake reached out and squeezed his hand.

“Not you, though,” Rich continued, squeezing Jake’s hand back, “I don’t hate you. I actually really fucking love you.”

#heh #fluff #look i'm capable of it #had to fix yesterday's angst with happiness and cute joy #bmc #richjake #jake dillinger #rich goranski #richjake week 2023 #i don't know if i like this or not tbh #mixed feelings #it's cute but it didn't quite turn out how i wanted it to #eh it's okay #still absolutely adorable #this goes along with my headcanon that rich spends their wedding sobbing his eyes out #and jake's just grinning the entire time and rich thinks he's so happy he's not even gonna cry #but then he wakes up in the middle of the night to jake curled around him sobbing so hard he genuinely thinks something's wrong #but jake's just so happy to be married #to have this proof that rich isn't going to leave #and it's better if it's rich who initiates it and proposes #bc then jake has proof that rich wants it. rich wants this commitment. rich wants forever.#akfjsdkgjdkgj #LMAO i’m back i forgot to add that fanfic tag #sparkly star fanfic #k we’re good now

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kanene-yaaay · 2 years ago

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I am here if you need

Alternative Title: Little Brothers.

Kanene’s notes: So, in the brazilian dub Ritsu was always calling Shigeo “his lil bro” (probably because he is taller than him sdfghjkjhg) and I kept this nickname on this fanfic because it’s honestly the most adorable thing so just a heads up in the case that is not something that happen in others dubs or on the original. Hope it’s not very confusing!

Warnings: There are rasbperries here and nursery rhymes, but besides that, nothing! Lots of brotherly fluff and angst full of hurt/comfort with Switch!Shigeo and Switch!Ritsu. Around 5.000 words.

[~*~]

(Please consider reading my notes before the fanfic pls ^.^)

Ritsu is his little brother and Shigeo loves him.

Sometimes, everything is simple like that.

He doesn’t think life has ever been different. It’s like waking up to the sunrise every single day. You simply know that the next time you open your eyes, the sun will be there to greet you at the first signals of consciousness.

But he wouldn’t say Ritsu is like the Sun. Actually, he is much more like the Moon. A constant calming presence. Strong. Important. Always there when you need it. He is intelligent and funny and so, so amazing. And popular too, which is only natural. Of course everyone would love him. His little brother is incredible.

Shigeo couldn’t be prouder of him.

This is also a constant in his life when it comes to his brother. Love and pride.

(And fear and jealousy. But they were working on it).

Both feelings have always mingled together, accompanying their hurried steps as they grew up on those hot afternoons spent climbing tall trees and pointing at the caterpillars and bugs they found in their way.

They also followed the brothers as Ritsu went to the hospital to take his vaccines even though he was deadly afraid of needles and shaking the whole ride to the place, tightly holding Mob’s hands as the older one teared up and sniffled in empathy at his sibling’s struggles.

And on the moments they fought and Shigeo would freeze, stop and lock up because he was so afraid of losing control and then Ritsu would appear hours later with two cups of warm tea for them to sip quietly, sitting together with arms pressing on each other as the silence said words they couldn’t ever express.

Also on the way the older one would always keep money in his bag for the days when they stumbled on each other on their way to home so they could make a small detour to the ice cream store and have something nice after a busy day.

Or with how Ritsu would untwist his spoons when Mob lost control, and Shigeo would still remember his bro’s favorite shows as a kid and Ritsu would frown at him when he talked about Reigen but not say anything because he may not trust the guy, but the trusted Shigeo’s choices.

And. And. And.

That is why it was so easy to not be hurt when Ritsu got his powers and he found him in that alley. Because Ritsu was amazing. He was his little brother and Shigeo knew that feelings are a complex, difficult thing to control and when we can’t control them everything becomes terrifying (because you’re hurt) and scaring and pushing people away seems like the only good way to protect yourself. But it was fine. It was fine because Shigeo understood (he had someone who helped him to understand) and now that he understands he could help his brother. He would be there for him. Because he loved him and Ritsu also loved him and nothing in the world could ever change that.

That is why he sometimes laid awake, frozen in his bed in the middle of the night, frightening memories and horrible nightmares of those six hellish months mixing together in an undistinguished way, plaguing his mind and leaving him out of breath, as if there were rocks laying on his chest and a hand squeezing his throat, making his tongue feel like concrete in his dry mouth.

Sometimes he really despises the way that illusion changed him.

It was on one of those nights that Mob decided he couldn’t bear to stay alone in his room any longer.

Walking to the bathroom to wash his face only woke him more, however at least it also decreased the feeling that cotton was filling his brain and made his thoughts stop dragging themselves in the darkest spaces of his mind.

He stopped in front of Ritsus’ door, knocking on it very lightly, anxiety buzzing in his chest non stop. He didn’t care if it seemed childish. His fingers began to pull and fiddle with his pajamas’ shirt. It was nothing, really. Nothing really important. He just... He just... He really needed to look at Ritsu’s eyes right now and see more than indifference or disgust.

Ritsu opened his door. His eyelids were dropping. He was clearly tired, yet very alert even if all his movements were still sluggish from sleep.

And still...

“Lil bro,“ his voice was calm. Patient. Warm. Of course it was. It was Ritsu. What was Mob thinking? He would never... He wouldn’t...

“Something happened?”

Mob shook his head.

Quiet washed over them. Ritsu watched his brother for something and Shigeo kept staring at him because that shine in his eyes showed that he was worried. He was worried but also he wouldn’t pry and the oldest couldn’t put in words how much that alone made him relax.

(Worry was very different from indifference. Or hate. You didn’t worry about someone you didn’t care about. Shigeo held to this thought as if it was the only thing keeping him standing.)

Before he could say anything (his tongue was still so heavy) Ritsu held his hand and pulled him to the kitchen. Shigeo’s hand was sweaty. That couldn’t be comfortable.

He didn’t pull away.

(Ritsu cared.)

“Do you want some tea?”

It was more of a courtesy question than anything, really, since the taller one was already getting the teapot. Still, Shigeo said a tiny sound in agreement and moved to grab their cups either way. He had to let go of his brother's hands for this but it was fine. Because from time to time Ritsu would bump their shoulders together (I am here) or Shigeo would poke his arm to show the night outside their window (I care) and Ritsu would choose one of their favorite blands (I care) and the smell would be all over the kitchen so Mob had to open the window in the most careful and quiet way ever to not wake up their parents and then, since the window was open and they were already there, both would take their time to take a deep breath and stare at the night sky.

(I care. I care. I am here. I love you. I love you. I love you.)

They spent a handful of pieces of time like this before going back to Ritsu’s room, sitting on his futon and watching senseless videos on his phone.

Almost instantly Shigeo felt a head lay on his shoulder and he didn’t need to turn around to know his younger brother would be struggling to keep his eyes open. Therefore he calmly took the phone from his hands and adjusted himself carefully to not disturb the other.

Suddenly, he was nine years old all over again, putting a blanket over him and Ritsu while watching more videos in the middle of the night in secret until his sibling began taking more and more deep, paused breaths, indicating that he had fell asleep and now Mob could move him to lay on his futon without waking him up.

But he wasn’t eight years old anymore and didn’t realize that the nightmares and tea and the warmth and the comfort of having his family so close would make him fall on the hands of the dreamland easier, much before he could even properly adjust the blanket on themselves.

Did he remember to close the window?

(...)

When Shigeo woke up, he was laying on a futon that wasn’t his in his old room. The memories of the last night came back as he moved to sit, rubbing his eyes and yawning and. ah. He forgot to wash their cups last night.

Breakfast was fine, with mom talking and dad laughing and hot, enjoyable food between all of them.

He walked back to his room after he was finished (thankfully it wasn’t a school day) and left his door open due the another set of footsteps following him. It was a sunny day. Dimple must be at Reigen’s if he stayed out until now. Or maybe visiting Teru. It was fine. Today was going to be an okay day.

He turned around when the door closed, still a bit slow with the sleepiness that refused to leave his bones. His gaze found Ritsu’s, he didn’t look as worried as yesterday. That is good.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

He almost said ‘no’, the word already on the tip of his tongue. However... he didn’t want Ritsu to feel like he was pushing him away. He wanted to set a good example.

Besides, it all didn’t seem so horrible now that it was day and he wasn’t alone and they had tea and a good, warm breakfast. It felt less unspeakable

“...I had a nightmare.” His brother kept an open face, calm and understanding. “I don’t remember it well. But you helped.” He hugged him, hoping it would say more than just the few words he had. “Thank you.”

“I’m always here for you, lil bro.” Ritsu hugged him back.

They stayed a bit like this.

Ritsu huffed a laugh.

“Huh?”

“Do you remember the thing to cheer us up that dad always did when we were little and ran at him after a bad day?”

Ah. Shigeo did.

“And that you also began to do when I would show up in your room after a nightmare?”

Shigeo experimentally wiggled on the embrace, not being surprised when Ritsu’s arms kept him locked on the hug. Hands began spidering their way on his ribs and suddenly Mob was more than aware that his position wasn’t the best for protection and that he fell in a trap.

And yet, his arms - trembling and shaking with the effort to not shoot downwards and trap the offending hands and wiggling fingers in their attack - were determinately kept firm, still hugging Ritsu close.

This was a family tradition, afterall.

“Do you remember that silly song that dad would always sing when he tickled us?” Of course Shigeo did, afterall, he was the one who first took upon himself to learn and keep that tradition going during his own cheering-up tickle attacks against Ritsu. The same song that pried, amidst his giggly and squeaking protests about ‘how much he despised it’, the biggest and brightest smiles from his younger sibling. “I can’t recall it that well, but you will help me to sing it, right, lil bro?”

Before a single word could come out of his lips, Ritsu focused his tickly attention on his lowest rib, pinching and drumming on a spot right in the middle of it that never failed to fish a loud squeal and scramble his thoughts all over around the place because it tickled, it really tickled so, so much, the sensation spreading all across his torso and making him want to curl in a ball and smile and laugh and laugh and-

Giggles were dancing freely on the air and Mob was nodding his head non stop even before he noticed what he was doing.

“Thank you so much, lil bro!” Any naivety of those words would be lost at the scene of the gigantic, teasy (and yet a tad soft, because that shy, smiley expression on his lil bro's face was so much better than the haunted, exhausted eyes he saw yesterday) smirk on Ritsu’s features. He couldn’t help prodding the spot on both the right and left ribs at the same time only to see Shigeo try to wiggle from one side to another and stop because that made him jump into another tickly finger and then half second later wiggle again because it tickled.

After a few seconds of tormenting he stopped, though, giving his brother a breather, warmth spreading on his chest as he watched Mob use the break to shove his face on his shoulder, little bounces of his own shoulders being the only hint of the quiet titters and yelps that still spilled from his mouth. Ritsu gave his head a couple of fond pats with an amused snort.

He wasn’t finished, however.

“How does the song start, again? It’s been a while since I heard it…”

A huffed chuckle and a hesitant, mumbled sentence was what answered him, and because Ritsu was a little shit, he scribbled the vulnerable, incredibly ticklish neck that Mob’s hiding left unprotected.

“Sorry,” the playfulness in his voice showed that he was pretty much not sorry at all and would definitely do it again if Shigeo didn’t try to talk louder “can you say that again? I couldn’t hear you.”

Giggling giggling giggling.

“...R-round ahahand r-snrk” Shigeo shoved his face even more on his shoulder as Ritsu quickly changed his attack back to his ribs, being mindful to give every single inch of ticklish rib a few scratches and a good prodding before jumping to another. “round thehehe gar-r-rden gohohoes the teddy be-eek!”

Ritsu gave the weak spot on the back of his middle rib a last tickle before having mercy at his older sibling and continuing the song. And, well, if he even mimicked the goofy voice his father always did when he sang it… no one but his brother needed to know.

“One step.”

He pretended to “walk” in the direction of the unprotected armpits. Mob’s titters became more squeaky, already tipping on a full laughter.

“Two steps.”

He paused for a grand effect, mentally counting to three before unmercifully wiggling and digging his fingers on the target, keeping up his attack even when the older one jolted in the air, an unexpected bark of loud laughter breaking the previous silence and making Shigeo throw his head backwards, arms shooting down a second too late, only trapping the offending, playful tickly digits in their attack as his laughter turned into an unstable mix of squeaks and hiccups.

“And tickle under there.~”

“R-ritsu!”

The called one just snickered, paying the half heartedly protest no mind, especially since no more words or moves accompanied it. Knowing his brother he would endure a whole hour of goofy nursery rhymes and silly tickles if that meant keeping up the playful moment.

Huff.

Such a softie.

Before his laughter would become more hiccups than anything Ritsu decided to experiment and see if he still knew how to get a few snorts and airy giggles with the next rhyme.

He positioned both of his index fingers on Shigeo's cheeks.

"Now, how does the second part goes again…?" He pretended to think while swirling his digits on the spot, receiving plenty of puffed snorts as the bright eyes of his brother stared at him, his grin growing bigger at every small skittering. "Round and round…?" He looked at Shigeo expectantly.

"Thehehe hayssstack."

"Right." Then,his voice was back to the singing, goofy tune again, he almost decided to change his attack to tease the shortest's ears but Mob seemed to be having fun. "Round and round the haystack, went the little mouse."

"One step."

Once again he pretended to "walk", now directing the scribbling to the so ticklish neck.

"Two steps."

Shigeo's shoulders began to shake uncontrollably.

"And right up in the air."

He feigned going for his chin before changing to squeeze his sides on the last second, fishing a loud high pitched squeal, the belly laughter filling the entire room for a full second before falling to a silent laughter and the usual hiccups. Shigeo's torso weakly wiggled from left to right before he failed limply on Ritsu's arms, still giggling like crazy.

"W-wahahait!"

"Huh? Oh, shoot. That doesn't rhyme,must be something else then. Let me just try again." He stopped, leading his hands to spider over the other's stomach. "One step. Two steps. Into his little house."

And, as Mob was about to hold his wrists, the tickling came to a stop. And they stayed there, Shigeo giggling out the rest of the giddy feeling buzzing on his nerves and Ritsu chuckling and giving his back a couple of fond pats.

It took some minutes before Shigeo's voice filled the air again.

“I had forgotten about this tradition.” Mob said, honesty and warmth painting every word. “Thank you for reminding me, Ritsu.”

Ritsu smiled. His older sibling was really a big ol softie with a giant melting heart. "I'm always here for you, lil bro."

(...)

After a few weeks, such moment had been almost forgotten, being, instead, kept in a high shelf in Ritus’s mind after his brother’s nightmares became more sparse and their bimester's finals came to pull and throw them in a frenetic pace of clubs, studies and way too much schoolwork for just 24 hours per day.

In fact, that memory only resurfaced after his tests were over, right during that stressing period right after you finished every major thing you had to do, when your body was exhausted from weeks of study and work but you mind was still too full of everything (every exercise every test every record every observation every question and answers and notes and classes and-) to be able to let go of the adrenaline that kept him going and actually relax.

The taller didn’t even realize that Shigeo was in his room until a light touch on his arm broke him from the staring competition he was having with his textbook, wondering if it was worth it to study a subject or two just to make the anxiety gnawing the corner of his mind more bearable.

"Ritsu?"

"Hm?" He blinked, recovering fast from the unexpected touch. "Do you need something, lil bro?"

(Help with your studies? Help with understanding a confusing equation? A quick run down on the subject of last week? Help with cleaning? With your powers? With work?)

(Was he even worth something if he didn't hel-)

"No. Thank you." The attentive and calm eyes of the older one ere enough to make him let go of the book and stay on the here and now. Ritsu attempted to look patient and open, trying to not show his confusion and internal struggling to the other. He needed to get a hold of himself before he did something stupid again.

"Are you alright, Ritsu?"

The taller one stopped. Blinked one, two, three times before a smile opened in his face.

(It didn't reach his eyes.)

"Of course, lil bro. Why wouldn't I be?" He turned around to put his book in his bag again. Maybe he should start preparing his things for tomorrow.

"Because your tests were only over today and you've been through a stressful week of studies right after working hard during the school's festival, which usually overload the students council with more obligations than the normal amount."

Ah. That is right. The school festival. Has it been that long already? After a time everything starts mixing up in the same mess. His hands kept organizing his bag even if his breath hitched for a moment too long. Wednesday was when he had math in the first and second period, didn't he? He should probably check his exercise to see if his answers were correct.

Another light, careful touch on his shoulder made him stop.

"Ritsu, you are always here for me when I need it." Shigeo's tune was calm and light-hearted like it always had been. Like he always had been. Like helping Ritsu was not a chore only natural. "So if you need or want" his gaze became firm then, more determined "I am here for you too. You can trust me."

One blink.

Two blinks.

Ritsu opened his mouth to say something but no words came out.

Oh.

Okay.

That was right.

He could trust him, couldn’t he? Shigeo already proved that before, when they…

His lil bro always tried so hard for him. Ritsu could… He could try a bit more for him, as well.

"I am stressed." The words were low, stumbling out of his lips before he could stop them. Like ripping off a bandaid. "And there isn’t a reason for it anymore. I should try to… relax a bit."

Shigeo nodded and Ritsu scratched the back of his neck in a sudden bout of shyness as the other’s eyes scanned him, understanding.

Shigeo nodded once again.

"OK. That should be a good moment to tell you that I have a message for you, then."

"Really?" A message? That is… not what Ritsu was expecting. But his lil bro was good at breaking and going over expectations. He wondered if it was from someone at the school. "What is it?"

Mob looked at the window behind him, pointing at something. Voice as neutral as ever.

“Oh. What’s that?”

“Huh?” Ritsu turned around, scanning the scenery in search for something strange. It was only when he heard a small sound behind him that his eyes widened and he realized that he fell for the oldest trick in the book.

Arms came and hugged him from behind.

Flashes of memories filled his mind in less than one second. Laughter, wide smiles, giggles, wiggling fingers, surprise attacks.

“No!”

He would forever deny the way his voice was wobbly, embarrassing high pitched giggles already bubbling on his throat just at knowledge of what would happen, the buzzing feeling of anticipation making him want to kick and squirm around like crazy.

“It’s our cheering up tradition.”

Hands began giving the stomach they were resting on a few experimental pokes, each one of them leaving him wiggling from one side to another like a quite energetic worm. Ritsu could perfectly visualize his brother’s face even without looking at him: the way his eyebrows would be frowned in a concentrated way, curious eyes jumping from the teasing pokes to his reactions in search of what would bring out the brightest smiles or the most wheeziy snicker, just like a musician tuning his instruments.

“It’s not!”

“It’s a family thing.”

“It is really nOT!” In the last part, Ritsu’s voice was taken over by an unintelligible ‘eee’ sound as Mob gave the horribly, unfairly, awfully ticklish spot right under his bellybuton a scratch, legs almost giving out in the need to move and kick and stay and laugh and laugh and laugh.

“I-I’m… n-nohot- snrk. Come on!” He and Shigeo’s hands were caught in a game of cat and mouse for a bit when Ritsu wasn’t able to even start a sentence without having his words captured by pieces of barked laughter and badly muffled chuckles since his brother refused to leave that damn spot alone and it tickled so much. It tickled so, so bad. Shigeo’s ones escaping from his grip (not that it was that strong in the first place) with the skill of someone who tickled him since they were tiny humans and wasn’t about to stop now. The playful wrestling though gave him a breather and a chance to wheeze out his sentence. “I’m not seven anymore, lil bro.”

“Physical activities are a good way to destress and relax.” Mob’s tune was pensative, a light hint of a considerating humming in his voice as Ritsu finally succeeded in getting a hold of his hands, not letting them go even with the light tugs that this resulted. And, well, if a gigantic smile was plastered on his face and a couple of giggles escaped from his lips because of the playful moment, that is nobody’s business.

Besides, it was hard to not let a victorious (and strangely nostalgic. Had this ever happened before?) feeling wash over him as his older brother gave up from trying to free his hands.

Well, that wasn’t so bad.

Ritsu ignored the little sad weight on his chest that wished that it didn’t end so soon. Maybe… Maybe he could turn around and get a bit of a payba-

A big raspberry hit his shoulder blades, right in the middle space that connected both of them, a weak spot that even he had forgotten about. But as it seems, not Shigeo. Or his own body.

The sound that came out from his mouth was more of a screeching than actual laughter. Loud, fast - and not even remotely close from the huffed, quiet reactions from his older brother, - and uncontrollable giggling stumbled right out of his mouth when the maddening and tickly buzzing that made his nerves tingle didn’t go away, the tickling following him no matter how much he squirmed and wiggled around in his attempts to escape it, his hands letting go of Shigeo’s wrists to trash and shake around, totally unable to stop the older as he decided to throw quicker and smaller raspberries around both shoulder blades, fishing plenty of crackling squeals when they slipped and “accidentally” hit the back of his ribs and neck.

They were a shared tickle spot and one of the favorites for Shigeo to tickle, warmth filling his chest at the knowledge that he could make Ritsu happy and smiley with just a few playful tickles.

His hands were now free, though, so he could go back to his original plan.

Shigeo undid the hug, watching with an amused quirk of lips as his sibling clumsy tumbled out of it, frenetic, airy titters still floating in the room as if the tickling had never came to a stop. He waited for Ritsu to turn in his direction, bright, shiny eyes finding his before he slowly - so teasing slowly - lifted his hands, fingers mimicking claws as they clawed the air.

He used to do that all the time as a kid, Ritsu even called it-

“No!” Wide eyes and even a wider smile. Ritsu watched as the older approached with a giddy alarm, adrenaline running on his veins and muscles tensing in preparation to scramble away. He couldn’t believe Shigeo was doing that, it was so childish. “Do. not. No. Not The Claw!”

Mob didn’t stop his approaching steps, only clawing the air fast and faster as he got closer and closer and closer. “Shigeo!!”

“Tickle tickle tickle…”

Just three taunting words and then Ritsu was running away, laughter falling his lips when he managed to dodge from Shigeo and jump over his forgotten bag on the floor, shivers and the ghost feeling of poking fingers on his torso following him at every step, especially when he glanced behind with the corner of his eyes only to see the other one chasing right after him.

Oh, that is right. He is on the Body Improvement Club, shit, shit, shit-

This was so silly. This was so childish. So stupid and it didn’t make any sense and it was so so fun.

That was the moment he tripped on his futon.

(For some reason, he also was always very bad at running away from the tickles as a kid. Looks like he didn’t outgrow that feature.)

Ritsu didn’t even process the string of protesting nonsense falling freely from his lips as he turned around, a mix of protesting ‘nonono’a and promising ‘don’t you dare!’s as Shigeo sat close to him. Still, his lil bro’s voice, calm and with drops of something a tad playful seemed to echo in the entire room.

“Got you.”

His clawing hands lunged to his belly. Ritsu screeched.

Only for his hands to stop a few inches from the skin, the tip of the finger barely grazing the spot before pulling away.

Ritsu began wheezing, hotness running from his neck to his face, feeling like a little kid facing the tickle monster that was his older brother all over again. He couldn’t believe Shigeo was doing that. He was so- This was so (silly, awful, amazing, soft, playful, amusing, silly, silly, silly) unfair.

A yelp was pried from his mouth when Shigeo again pretended to lounge on his sides. A loud squeal when the clawing hands threatened his ribs. A half snort, half chortle when they gave his hips an experimental squeeze before also moving away.

He was already a mess of squirms and uncontrollable giggles (one of his hands running to try to cover his mouth) when Shigeo decided to take mercy on him and slowly descended his hands to his knees, attacking it with plenty of squeezes and spidering so he wouldn’t get used to the feeling.

The tickling spreading tickly shocks across his entire legs and happily followed him, no matter how much he trashed or kicked around. Loud, bright peals of laughter and squeaky snorts dancing in the air in harmony, no anxious thoughts or stressed feelings filling his mind besides the only one sentence that repeated non stop on his brain and left a happy, comforting feeling on his chest.

‘It tickles. It tickles. It tickles.’

When tears began to run across his cheeks Shigeo decided to stop, carefully rubbing the knees to free them from the remaining sensation of fingers skittering on them. Ritsu threw one of his arms on his eyes, letting all the giggles and wobbly laughter get out of his system, breathing slowly going back to it’s normal pace.

It took a few minutes until he could talk without falling back to the laughing pit.

“That was your message?”

“No. Shou asked me to tell you to meet him at the central shopping mall tomorrow after school.” Mob paused a bit, Ritsu already thinking about how he would say to Shou that his brother was no messenger pigeon and for him to actually use his phone once in a while before having his thoughts cut by the rest of the shorter’s sentence. “But you told me what was wrong. I wanted to help you.”

Oh.

It was soft, the relaxing the silence that fell on them. Literally. Because relaxing made Ritsu let go of his powers (when did he activate them again?) that were keeping them and a handful of objects in his room hoovering in the air, which made all of them have a less than stellar encounter with the floorboards.

But, as both the Kageyamas brothers re-organized the room, two twin sets of fond, content smiles decorating their features, they couldn’t say exactly that they minded the turn of events that happened on that evening.

#Ticklish!Shigeo #Mob pyscho 100 tickles #MP100 tickling #Switch!Mob #Switch!Ritsu #Switch!Shigeo #Ticklish!Ritsu #this was supposed to be a lee ritsu fanfic when did it take such a detour SDFGHJKKJHG #*hitting shigeo with a piece of cardboard* stop.getting.character.development!!! this was supposed to be just fluff!!#WHERE DID THE ANGST CAME FROM #Shiego as a smol kidwalking around the street w a pic of his bro like #'hello good afternoon has you seen my brother? He is not really lost. He is just very cool'#Random headcanon: Mob knows no self preservation and while being tickled he will simply LATCH on the closest person to him #(most of the time the person who is tickling him)#and if you tickled him and Ritsu together most of the time he would simply h u g his lil bro while Ritsu tried to stop himself from-#-trashing and kicking around non stop so he would'nt hurt Mob and I just think this is very cute #Ritsu being soft caring and going out of his way to support and cheer up Shigeo: Pfff. My bro is such a SOFTIE. Good thing I am tough #All the memories in the beginning of the story is inspired in real stuff that happened w me and my sisters so-#thanks for my siblings for being so amazing heh #Ritsu fighting like his life is on the line: NO TICKLES // The person: *stops tickling him*// Ritsu: No… No more tickles? :(((#Look he is grumpy and SERIOUS and on the ‘fight’ spectrum of ‘flight or fight’ mah man will deny liking to be tickled to his grave SDFGHJKJH #Mob as a kid gives his bro a poke on his side and see him giggle and then his pupils dilate like a cat seeing a shiny something and that was #the exact moment Shigeo became a tickle monster #Both Shigeo and Ritsu are teasy lil sh*ts when it comes to tickling someone but both in very different ways and it was SO FUN to explore tha #MP100 tickles #mob pyscho 100 tickling #Kanene's fic #Kanene's fanfic #Cheer up tickles

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ghosts-and-blue-sweaters · 2 years ago

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Should I write QSMP fanfic ajsgjsgsisgs I don’t knowwwwww

#it’s not necessarily that I don’t WANT to #it’s just that #I don’t know #it’d be weird to write something that’s not DSMP :’0 #and I don’t usually write for two fandoms at once…#BUT LIKE #WILBUR AND TALLULAH #HE’S A FATHER AND HE’S TRYING SO HARD TO BE A GOOD ONE #AND HE CALLS HER HIS SON HIS MOON AND HIS STARS #AND HE SINGS TO HER #AND HE KEEPS THE SIGNS SHE MAKES AND THE RED POPPY SHE GAVE HIM AND HE WAS SCARED WHEN SHE WENT MISSING #and come ON Tallulah is the sweetest little thing #quiet and thoughtful and musical and caring and adorable just ADORABLE I TELL YOU #I want to write Wilbur and Tallulah fluff :’0 #but then I’d have to get used to writing q!Wilbur instead of c!Wilbur and also get used to a different universe and akdgskgsiagsus #why did I make this post #HEH #my post #writer talk #all this to say I am Thinking #my Qsmp thoughts

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stayconnecteed · 1 year ago

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wahhhh i love this

𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞𝐬, 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞𝐬 !・h.h.

— you’re just trying to do your job; your client has other ideas.

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬・1.3k 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠・idol!hyunjin x gn!makeup artist!reader 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬・very suggestive so mdni, reader implied to be shorter than hyunjin 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞𝐬・fluff, flirting, humor, big fwb vibes

𝐚/𝐧・this took me less than half an hour to write i am actually the biggest sucker for this trope. also, we hit another milestone recently!! i appreciate all of you immensely; look forward to more ♡

[!]・hi hey hello as of one month later a full-length fic based on this au has been posted!! here it is; you can read the two in any order. ok bye much love

“Five ‘til!” A crew member calls into a walkie-talkie, and you’re so surprised by this information that you stumble right over him, your heel ungracefully ramming into the poor man’s toes.

You apologize hurriedly, bowing yourself out of the awkward situation—and then you check your watch. 7:55 P.M. A quiet "shit" leaves your lips as it dawns on you that you'd completely lost track of time.

Briefly, you contemplate your predicament, drumming the palette of makeup you’re holding in your right hand against the palm of your left: do I have to? Is it really necessary? But you know your answer even as you’re asking yourself the questions. You’re damn meticulous—sometimes to a fault, but always to your own satisfaction.

You had a vision, and you’re going to see it through.

With impeccable timing, your coworker appears out of nowhere, and you fasten a hand around her arm. “Hey, where are the members again?”

“Stage left.” Then she registers your question in full, and snaps her eyes to your face; stylists were supposed to have finished up with their respective members nearly an hour ago. “Hang on, are you out of your mind—”

“I won’t be a minute!” You call, scurrying away.

“You won’t be employed!” She returns, but you’ve already disappeared into the curtains’ dense shadows.

You jog a short distance, turn a few corners, and finally spot the eight members clad in outfits of varying amounts of silver and black, every inch of them so sparkly that they’re reflective, even with how little light reaches this part of the stage.

You’re looking for one man in particular, though, and you single him out right away: long, black locks falling into his eyes as he adjusts his microphone, broad shoulders and tall frame flattered perfectly by an obsidian suit, looking like he fell off a Paris Fashion Week runway and into a wormhole that teleported him to Osaka.

All your doing, by the way.

“Hwang Hyunjin!” You shout, and he (along with several of the other members) whips around at the sound. And Hyunjin furrows a perfect brow when his stylist materializes before him, four minutes to curtain up, wielding a palette of makeup like it’s a baseball bat.

“Are you out of your mind?” He calls.

“Why does everyone keep asking me that?” You lift a pointer finger into the air and curl it twice. “Come here. Hurry."

Hyunjin gives the others an apologetic glance before hurrying over, and you are met with a blast of Byredo Blanche when he arrives in front of you, the expression on his face equal parts amused and confused.

“Down,” you say, flicking open the eyeshadow palette with one hand.

And then Hyunjin understands. A loud, uninhibited laugh leaves his lips, a sound you’ve become so accustomed to by now that you’re completely oblivious to the fact that only you bring it out of him.

“You really are something,” he says, spreading his feet apart until he’s brought himself to your eye level.

With that, you get to work, one hand gathering some eyeshadow on the pads of your fingers, the other moving to hold his shoulder. Brushes are luxuries you can’t afford right now.

“Close your eyes,” you direct, your voice softer now that your face is only inches away from his, and Hyunjin heeds your words obediently. You begin to dab the crimson powder against the curve of his lids, careful to avoid messing up the rest of his eye makeup. His lashes flutter involuntarily at your gentle touch.

“A shadow to match the lip,” you murmur absently. “I pictured it and knew it had to happen."

Hyunjin makes a sound of approval, and then there is that smirk on his face, the one you’ve learned only means trouble. “You’ve been thinking about my face the whole night, then?”

“No. I’ve been thinking about whether vegetables can feel pain,” you deadpan. “Yes, I've been thinking about your face. It’s my job.”

“Is that all?”

“Sure is.” You blow gently on his finished eye and move on to the other. “Now save your voice for the stage.”

He obliges, but that dreadful, self-assured expression remains on his face, and you're immeasurably grateful that he can’t see the blush that you’re well aware paints your cheeks.

“Done,” you say a minute later, straightening with a confident flourish. And you think you could squeal when Hyunjin opens his eyes, and you see that the exact effect you’d hoped for has been realized: a splash of maroon that is both subtle and seductive, sleek and suave; that not only accentuates the shape of his eyes but pulls attention to his lips, which are dyed a similar hue. Damn, you’re good at your job.

“I don’t have a mirror,” you say, looking around. “I can use my phone if you want to—”

“It’s fine,” he says. “I trust you.”

You grin at this. “Good. Because you look sexy as hell."

Upon hearing your words, he straightens to his full height. You don’t think much of this at first, too busy re-examining the masterpiece you’ve created on his eyelids, but in the blink of an eye you’re suddenly aware that Hyunjin is standing conspicuously and intentionally close to you. You instinctively move away, but you’re too late; he’s already guiding your back to the wall behind you, his body enclosing yours against the smooth surface.

You send a panicked look over Hyunjin’s shoulder, only to realize that the two of you are completely out of anyone’s line of vision. That doesn’t stop the sharp hiss that leaves your lips: “Hyunjin, are you cr—”

But then there is a familiar gust of breath against your skin, a thumb over your cheekbone.

He knows he shouldn’t, but he can’t help himself when you get like this; all bossy and concentrated, an ambitious glint in your eyes, an air of confidence in your gait. He always thinks it’s ironic that your job is to make him look good when all he’s ever done is admire your beauty, so effortless and profuse that it feels timeless, like freshly bloomed forget-me-nots.

He knows he shouldn’t—but that makes him want to more.

When your lips meet, they move together with an ease and familiarity that reveal how many times you’ve done this before. He brings a hand to the small of your back, and you tangle your stained fingers in his luscious hair, the delicious pressure of his mouth upon yours rendering your reluctance (and the eyeshadow palette, which clatters noisily to the floor) momentarily forgotten.

As the kiss deepens, the bridges of your noses slide together; your every sense becomes overwhelmed by the slippery plush of his full lips and the warm caress of his large hands; you drink in the rosy musk of his cologne like your cells need it to live as opposed to oxygen. The tip of Hyunjin’s tongue teases the seam of your lips, as if requesting access, and you grant it to him with a light moan that is both blissful and thoroughly exasperated. When he hears the gorgeous sound, he has half a mind to scoop you up and leave the venue then and there.

Then, a voice bellows from not too far away: “One minute, everyone! Places, places!”

You’re so startled that you not only break away from him but jump a meter into the air, giving Hyunjin’s bicep a hearty slap on your way down. But he is entirely unbothered, dipping his head to press a trail of light kisses along your jaw instead.

“You’ll be watching the performance, yes?” He murmurs against the sensitive skin.

“Of course, what else—”

“—don’t take your eyes off me.”

And the words throw your heart against your ribs like uncooked French fries in a vat of oil.

He is just about to walk away when you realize how decidedly disheveled you’ve left him, and you yank him back to you with a fresh wave of panic. You wipe at his smudged lipstick with the cuffs of your sleeves; nitpick his hair until every strand is back in its proper place. Only when you’ve gotten rid of all the incriminating evidence do you permit him to leave.

“Thank you very much,” he says, bending into a gracious bow, the perfect image of professionalism. The facade is given away only by the upturned corner of his still-flushed lips.

“Break a leg,” you return drily.

The last thing you hear is that stupid, bright laugh before Hyunjin rejoins his members, and they step into the strobe lights together.

Even when the concert begins and the stadium is drowned in fanatical screams, the heartbeat in your ears remains the loudest sound of all—and you bury your burning face in your hands.

Hwang Hyunjin will be the death of you.

𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤? please consider reblogging, commenting, or sending me an ask to let me know; or, read my other writing here. thanks so much for the support ♡

#just the adrenaline of the countdown #when he kisses her i was like WHAT ARE YOU DOING THERE'S NO TIME PABO #but there was time #and wooah the kiss #it's kind of cute heh #hyunjin x reader #stray kids x reader #skz x reader #stray kids imagines #hyunjin imagines #hyunjin fluff

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jhjluvs · 5 months ago

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against my better judgment (bc im kinda busy rn) im ending my break kind of,, send me asks (fluff or angst only) n i’ll get to them this weekend or early next week ^.^ any group i usually write for (bnd, nct, zb1 etc) ‘m not picky !! also feel free to send me normal asks just to chat hehe i luv hearing from u guys :3

#just need a smut break lolz #also applies to joysfaery btw #zb1 fluff #nct dream fluff #bnd fluff #nct 127 fluff #<- tags for reach #don’t wanna clog tags so just a few heh #☆. ˚ ₊ 𓏸 *#☆. ˚ ₊ 𓏸 * rambles

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chuluoyi · 6 months ago

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𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐇𝐀𝐈𝐋 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐄𝐌𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐒 !

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

you are an empress perfect in every way... until your husband suddenly casts you aside for his expecting mistress. but you won't be dethroned just like that, because the newly coronated western emperor, gojo satoru, sets his sights on you, and thus your revenge against your ex-husband begins...

genre/warnings: 18+ suggestive content—minors do not interact!—might be ooc, kinda slowburn, angst to eventual fluff, divorce, marriage of convenience, heavy pining (from gojo's part), childhood friends trope, mentions of infidelity, misogyny, infertility, explicit smut

note: loosely inspired by and taking some elements of manhwa remarried empress (but i promise you, it's different). my god, for the past month this is all i can think about *sobs* wc. 10.5k ! this is the longest thing i've ever posted here, and if you'd give it a chance, then i'll be really, really thankful!

credit header goes to @/gojokko in twitter!

next. the crown of diamonds | long live the empire

general masterlist | series masterlist

“I accept the divorce.”

Your perfect life was done for. Everything you had worked hard towards— it was now in shambles and tatters.

You, an ethereal, revered empress... someone untarnished in the face of public and private, had just agreed to the emperor’s blatant request of separation.

“My god... how can this be!?”

“Your Majesty! Please reconsider!”

Emperor Zen’in Naoya of the Eastern Empire, your husband—and companion for more than ten years—smirked as he looked down at you, paying zero attention to the uproar in this courthouse.

But then you heard that kind, velvety voice from the back of your head:

“If you become my empress… that will make me the happiest man alive.”

This place has turned into a whopping circus ever since you and Naoya stepped inside anyway. And so, having nothing worthy left to lose, you declared, “And I demand an immediate approval for my remarriage.”

Your boldness once again stirred a wave of clamor among the crowd, and even Naoya was glaring at you in disbelief now. “A remarriage…? How dare you—!”

“Well... is it the time for my grand entrance?”

Deep from behind the curtains, suddenly he emerged, dressed in the most lavish robes befitting his own throne, outshining everyone in the room as if he was the one owning the place.

“Heh.” His low chuckle stunned even the mass as he took big strides towards where you were.

This would seal your fate. From now onwards, you would no longer be the perfect empress. Your messy divorce and remarriage will relegate that image to history.

“My goodness, that’s…” the woman in the front gasped. “Western Empire’s…”

“Gojo… Satoru?” Naoya's eyes lit with genuine fury as the other man took his place by your side. “You couldn't possibly mean…!”

You interrupted him regally. “Yes, he is the man I wish to remarry.”

This event was going to blow up tomorrow, with scandalous titles no less than The Deposed Empress Remarries! And there was no going back, ever.

How did your pristine life turn into such a shameful debacle? None of these turn of events would be imaginable for you several years prior...

SATORU, THE CROWN PRINCE OF WESTERN EMPIRE

To Satoru, you were more than just the east’s breathtaking empress—you had captured his attention long before you ascended to that role.

Seven years ago, you were the renowned noble lady, the paragon of perfection sought after by many lords and monarchs alike.

You were both cunning and fair, pretty in the face, came from an illustrious family known for birthing famous empresses in either western and eastern empires. You were the quintessential template that mothers advised their sons to seek in a wife.

The fairest in the land—that was how people called you. And Gojo Satoru is always and only interested in the best.

“Suguru... look at her.” His eyes would soften at the sight of you as he nudged at his closest ally and confidant, the duke. “She is so... pretty, isn’t she?”

Unfortunately, you had been promised to the Eastern Empire’s crown prince from a long time ago too. There was little that the outsiders, including himself—even if he was the heir apparent to his own throne—could do to sway your heart.

“There's more to women than their faces, Satoru,” Suguru sighed, thinking that what he had was a mere lust. “Moreover, she’s engaged to the Zen’in... and they have a very good relationship. Nothing you can do about that.”

“Hmph.”

To be honest, he couldn’t fathom what you could possibly like about that murderous Zen’in spawn. He was a pompous human being, no less.

How on earth could you stand someone like that? Satoru had always wondered… especially when it was well-known to the land that you and him were on good terms despite your arranged marriage.

—and once, he thought he knew who you are…

. . .

Satoru swallowed the bitterness rising in his throat as he attended the royal wedding of you and Zen’in Naoya. Despite hating the circumstances, he had to admit it was a fairytale wedding—albeit with the wrong groom.

You were the epitome of picture book princess. In his eyes, and in the eyes of the attendees of your wedding.

Oh, and he made headlines too, that day—

“My princess, may I have this dance?”

Two hours hadn’t even passed by after you swore your vows as Naoya’s bride, and there he was, asking for your first dance, in your own wedding ball, right in front of your newly wedded husband.

Everyone bet on you turning him down and making a fool of himself, but instead, to spare his feelings, you put your delicate hand in his, and with a wide, shy smile, you said, “Yes.”

Satoru thought it was his greatest achievement then. To have made Naoya red-faced, to have made him watch as he put his hands on your waist, twirl you around— and come one breath away from your face.

“Princess, you’re…” his breath caught as he pulled you close, staring straight at your face—and suddenly he felt like life was so unfair to him as the slow melody of waltz was all he could hear.

How could you be this close... and yet so far by being somebody else’s wife?

And yet he forced the words out, with sincerity he had never showed anyone else before, even as his heart bled and shattered. “You’re so incredibly beautiful.”

Your eyes widened, sparkling with wonder, before you thanked him with the loveliest of smiles. “Thank you. You’re too kind.”

Satoru was certain... you had ruined him, because no one else would ever be able to turn his world with just a smile like you did, even as you broke his heart too into a million pieces.

. . .

Ever since that day, everyone had branded him as a prince in search of scandal—coveting the princess married to Zen’in clan.

What everyone didn’t know was that it went beyond that. His obsession of you went beyond your beauty and charms and wits. Rather, it goes a long way back.

YOU, THE CROWN PRINCESS OF EASTERN EMPIRE

As inconceivable as it was, once upon a time, you and Naoya were a truly, happy couple.

Handpicked by the late emperor to become his son’s wife, you couldn’t be more proud. With you being the next empress of the Eastern Empire, your clan once again proved itself that it was always worthy of a seat in the monarchy.

But beyond that, you were elated that it was Naoya that you ended up marrying. Your own childhood friend, who often led you around his palace by hand and filled your days with many joy and laughs.

“One day soon, when we are the emperor and the empress—” younger Naoya was always someone who had big dreams about ruling his nation. “We will create a nation in which no one can do anything as they please! We’ll establish order, and anyone who goes against it will be punished! That way, it’ll encourage fairness!”

Not knowing it yourself, you had given your heart wholly to him. You had agreed to all his dreams and visions. You devoted yourself to them all, even more so after your marriage and coronation, as he promised you an ever after.

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

YOU, THE EMPRESS OF EASTERN EMPIRE

“Your role is to give an heir to the throne, Empress.”

Your title had never sounded so heavy to you before now, especially when Naoya was the one saying it.

You sighed, gathering your wits and scattered feelings before levelling your calm gaze on your husband. “I understand that, Your Majesty. But it is not something that I can do on my own.”

This year would mark the fifth year of your marriage to Naoya. You understood that the fact you still weren’t able to be with his child would raise questions from the court, but still, must you be reminded of this fact over and over?

Your husband—no, the emperor—barked a satire laugh.

“Oh, really? As I understand it, being infertile is not something I can help you with.”

That hurt. It was a searing pain, like being branded with a red-hot iron. And it felt as if he had torn through your chest with his fist alone.

“I’m not infertile.” Your eyes gleamed with pure defiance as you lifted your chin, facing him in his audience chamber.

It dawned on you that lately, one of the few ways you could speak to him was by requesting an audience as opposed to your usual midnight talks in your private chambers.

When did it start to change? Or was Naoya this kind of person right from the very beginning and you were just blinded by love back then?

"Oh? And what would you call being childless for five years then?" Naoya sneered at you from his dais, placing one hand on his jaw. "Bad luck? You must be terribly cursed with misfortune then."

You fisted your dress, summoning all your strength to hold back tears. Don't you dare cry. Not in front of him.

It wasn't as if you didn't want to carry his heir. For many women, holding their baby in their arms is a cherished dream, and when they hold a position of power like yours, it becomes not just a desire but a duty.

You tried everything—calling in the best doctors, consuming horrible potions, even consulting with the oracle. And they all said you were perfectly healthy and fine. You were at your wits end too.

The irony. You were celebrated in public for your competence, while privately, you suffered your husband's cold detachment and cruel remarks.

. . .

"Empress, where should we put the welcome gifts?"

You studied the floor plan of the banquet hall for your annual New Year's ball with a thoughtful hum before pointing at the entrance.

"Place it here. We want our guests to know that we are generous, and it's easily accessible since the parlor is the first area they reach after arriving."

You loved planning festivities. It was therapeutic in a way, and it gave you little time to think of anything else.

"Oh, and I want to have a welcome arch and flowers placed at the entrance too. This is the grandest event of the year, second only to the Emperor's birthday... we must display the grandeur that befits such an occasion."

Your head maidservant, Hanabi, placed a hand on her abdomen and nodded with a warm smile. "That's a very clever suggestion, Your Majesty! I'll ensure they arrange everything just as you wish!"

As she scurried away, you watched her with an assessing gaze. Hanabi had been with you throughout the five years of your marriage, always at your side, assisting with day-to-day matters and serving as your confidant. She was a great aide.

And you were observant by nature... so of course you noticed things.

...and if you were correct, then she was most definitely with a child.

The thing is... she is unmarried. You hesitated to jump to conclusions without evidence, yet the timing struck you as more than coincidental—it nagged at you for weeks now, suggesting a connection you hoped did not exist.

Because if they really did... then...

You didn't dare to think, because it would be more than a nightmare. But you weren't able to let this go either, so you did what was necessary.

You planted a note in Hanabi's chamber, and then you waited in the gardens, the chilly midnight air wrapping around you like a shroud.

You had done everything you could. Five years ago, you let go of everything and had decided to spend your life with your first love—Naoya.

Because you truly and devotedly love him. You give your all for him—for your life together.

"Ooh, Your Majesty~! It's so cold out here, why not in our usual—"

Hanabi's voice faltered as soon as she saw your crimson gown, feeling like the world had collapsed on her. And you rigidly turned towards her, feeling more or less the same.

And yet, what you had received from him is the greatest betrayal.

SATORU, THE EMPEROR OF THE WESTERN EMPIRE

He first realized something was clearly wrong with you during the New Year’s ball that you hosted.

Satoru had just been crowned emperor during this time, and though rulers typically sent envoys to such grand celebrations due to concurrent festivities in their own lands, it had been several months since he last saw you. He wants to see you.

A meritless action, but he wanted to, regardless.

But that day, you were a fantastic actress in this stage called banquet hall and nobody was the wiser… but he would know, because you mattered a lot to him.

"Your Majesty, you don't seem well." He approached you with a glass of champagne, affixing a friendly smile. "Is there anything amiss?"

Taken aback, you didn't expect such close proximity that you took a step back. His smile almost faltered, but he kept it up.

"Emperor Satoru—"

"Ah, none of that, no. Address me just as you usually do, hmm?"

A smile finally tugged at your lips. "How is that fair, when you address me so formally?"

Satoru chuckled. "You, my queen, deserve all the finery and grandeur there is. And I will see to it that you do."

That was his nickname for you ever since you ascended the throne. Both of your countries refer you as “empress”, but he loves addressing you as “queen” instead.

There was a shift in your expression, and he thought you looked melancholic. It bothered him, stirring a desire to erase that somber look from you. Because above anything and everything, you had to be happy and smiling.

"You're still a flirt, I see, Satoru," you remarked, throwing him a soft smile. "It won't do you good if you're seen with me most of the time, you know."

No, I’m doing this just for you. He wanted to tell you that, but he sighed instead. "You've got it wrong. When I'm in the company of the most beautiful woman in the lands, what's there to be ashamed of?"

Perhaps hearing that finally melted you a bit as you freely giggled this time, and Satoru was glad that he made you laugh even a little.

"You would think that, huh..." you fondly mumbled. And then your expression crumbled, and he could've sworn something painful flashed in your eyes—

What happened to you? He so desperately wanted to ask, but then he saw that preying gaze on both of you. Zen’in Naoya. Satoru clicked his tongue as he watched him weave through the crowd, his gaze locked ominously on both of you.

“Seems like we don’t have much time, after all,” he began, urgency sharpening his words. “But rest assured, whenever you want to talk to me, just send a little birdie my way and I shall answer.”

“Huh?” you blinked at him questioningly, totally not getting what he meant.

He winked, then took your hand and placed a kiss on it, eliciting murmurs of surprise from the crowd at his bold gesture. “And chin up, my queen. You have nothing to fear, and if it makes you feel better...”

He leaned in to whisper in your ear, “To me, a diamond is most beautiful. And you… are one that sparkles above all.”

“Naoya, unhand me this instant!”

You were tired of this shit, of Naoya always manhandling you—of him always having a total control over you.

After seeing how close you got to Satoru, Naoya practically saw red. Still, in the prying eyes of public, he remained unperturbed, but his vice-like grip on your arm was sure to leave bruise as he unkindly led you out of the ballroom.

"Naoya!" you raised your voice this time, even louder than before, uncaring even when the wandering eyes of the servants curiously followed the two of you.

You were not made an empress just to follow him. And with that conviction, you forcibly pulled your arm away from his grip right after he shut the door to the drawing room close, not even wincing at the stinging feeling.

His eyes shone with anger. “You insolent—!”

“No—” You stood your ground, and suddenly you got very irate and burst out, “How dare you, Zen’in Naoya!”

He looked at you with equal surprise and mortification, clearly unprepared for your righteous tirade.

"You have made a mockery of our marriage! You have insulted me and your own throne by carrying on with— with the help! My maid!" you screamed at his face, pure anger coursing through your veins. "How could you!?"

Naoya took in your outburst with eerie silence, a sneer slowly forming on his lips. "You get riled up over that? Have you forgotten emperors are free to take mistresses, especially when the empress isn't capable to bear any heirs?"

A burning arrow shot straight to your heart at his response but you willed yourself not to show it. "Regardless, you could've done better and not put our throne to shame by fucking a servant."

"I've told you time and time again. A woman's duty is to bear children, and since you've proven yourself beyond barren, I did you a favor."

"A favor...?"

"As soon as Hanabi births that child, you can raise him as your own," Naoya frankly stated unabashedly, as if proud with his idea. "Saves you the trouble and I get my heir, a win-win solution, no?"

Raise him as my own...? Saves the trouble? You could've sworn that throughout your entire life, you had never been so insulted before now, right in this moment.

"What I do, I always have my throne in mind. And yet you..." his eyes narrowed into unsatisfied slits. "What are you trying to achieve by whoring yourself to that rake, Gojo Satoru? Are you telling people of the ton that you're having an affair?"

His voice made you want to throw up. The realization that everything you thought you had together might have meant nothing to him at all made you feel sick.

And so, hiding your trembling hands and swallowing you unshed tears, you responded to him with a clipped tone—

"You're most despicable, Naoya. And you are a complete fool if you think even for a second that I'd want to raise your bastard!"

He seemed taken aback by your rejection, but you didn't falter. "And oh, since you want to make use of that lowly maid so much, feel free to take her back and track her down yourself, because I've sent that wench away."

With that, you turned your back on him, striding out with your head held high, even as your life crumbled into dust.

Days after your full-blown argument with Naoya, your situation only worsened. By now, even the palace servants knew you had incurred his wrath, while Hanabi had won his favor by carrying his child—possibly the heir to the throne.

The child she was carrying was no threat to your position. After all, you were the empress. A child of your blood would trample over any bastard.

However, you'd be damned if you shared a bed with him again, and Naoya made it clear that his mistress would be elevated to the rank of royal consort. Given the current trajectory—and history's tendency to repeat itself—emperors often divorced or banished their empresses in favor of their mistresses.

Bah. You could only scoff at your laughable predicament. You came from a prestigious clan and were revered, yet now you were no more than a scorned woman.

Dark thoughts consumed your mind for a time—you couldn't deny that you had considered leaving the palace for self-imposed exile or even ending your life. However, reason always prevailed.

You wouldn't give Naoya what he wanted most: your compliance. And around the time when you resolved to do that, a finely decorated envelope arrived at your study, with no signature whatsoever.

Intrigued, you opened it to find an intricate dried rose bookmark and a folded letter nestled inside.

Greetings to you, my queen. Yeah, it's me. Hope you won't be too surprised. But if you do, know that I always mean well.

Satoru. You weren't expecting this. A small smile tugged at your lips. How long had it been since you last smiled so freely?

I've heard you love reading, hence the bookmark. Fun fact: I made it myself, with Shoko's help. She is sooo bad at explaining though so if the flower is wrinkled... please blame her.

This time, you giggled. He was an emperor, for god's sake. Should someone of his station write so informally like this?

Now... I'm no oracle, but even I know that you must be having bad days. And so, let me entertain you with several tales from my kingdom. So, the other day, my good friend Suguru, the duke—you must've heard of him surely (they said he is the most handsome bachelor in the West but they must be missing an eye for saying so because clearly I'm more!)—just fired a pair of his servants because he caught them in a thirst! He is so uptight! Why can't he let two people in love be!?

Before you knew it, you found yourself chuckling at the lines upon lines of anecdotes Satoru had penned in the letter. The way he wrote, it was as if he was right here, saying all of this to you in real-time. For a while, you were completely absorbed in the world of the Western Empire he described, and all your worries and anxieties seemed to fade away.

Okay, that's it for now. This is just a teaser actually, so if you want to subscribe to more tales of my humble little country, you can always be my empress reply to this letter! :D Look out for a white cat near your windowsill during the hour of snake—he is my trained pet, and put your message in his little backpack. Don't worry, he's cute and doesn't bite!

You were so giddy by the end. His message warmed your heart so much that your eyes grew misty. In the aftermath of Naoya's betrayal, you were certain your life would be filled with much sadness to come.

Yet, your friendship with Satoru might just be the thing that would save you.

No matter how much his friends Duke Geto and Countess Shoko urged him to see reason—that you were no longer available and occupied with your duties as the empress of your own empire—Satoru couldn't help but still cast an eye your way.

You were clearly unhappy, and to him, someone as radiant as you should be happy.

And so, that was why he took his quill and started writing that letter to be sent to your place, along with a rose strapped inside.

He knew that, being the kind person you were, you would most likely respond, but still, the moment his cat arrived back with your reply, he was elated beyond measure.

Of course I knew it right away! I omitted your name because who knows who might catch your cat on the way. Anyway, I hope Mr. Cat will arrive back to you safe and sound. Firstly, thank you for your letter. I must say I'm so happy to receive it :) I haven't had best days so reading it made me smile. And secondly, of course I'll subscribe to your stories of Western Empire. I've been wanting to visit it myself but just haven't gotten the chance to... so if you will continue it, I shall be happy to read :D

If anything he wrote brought you joy, then Satoru was content. He had achieved his goal then.

And it was his own little secret that... by corresponding with you, it allowed him to savor the feeling of having you as his own, if only through words.

Mr. Cat's name is Sugu-chan after Suguru but you can call him whatever you wish. And don't worry, he is strong and can fight if necessary! And don't be too formal with me, my queen. We have known each other forever. Anyway do tell me, what is your favorite color now? Let me guess, is it still that specific shade of crimson?

You name your cat after your best friend...? And you're making it hard for me to be less formal when you always address me as queen! Hmm, I suppose so. I love burgundy. I've even had my study designed with that exact color scheme. It just gives me the confidence I need, you know.

So you still love burgundy... I'll keep that in mind ;) Frankly, any shade of crimson suits you—you're always a vision in them. Back then and especially during your coronation. I love blue, so I think we're a match? :D

Back then...? Hmm, surprisingly yes, red and blue would make a good match... Anyway, I believe you promised me unusual tales from your 'humble little country', so please indulge me!

You've forgotten it already? Around the time we first met, back when I was still known as "the cursed prince"? It holds such importance for me but sadly it seems like it was just a passing moment to you :( Oh, yeah, I haven't forgotten about it! So, this time let me tell you about the time when Earl Nanami got wasted . . .

Days turned into weeks, and weeks into months. Amidst the turmoil of your marriage, exchanging letters with Satoru became your sole respite. His stories regarding his own empire amused you, and sometimes it got you to wonder what it was like to live there.

However, running away from your problems would never solve them. Writing to Satoru may have helped you to cope, but still, your real issue with Naoya wouldn't vanish simply just by ignoring him.

. . .

"Your Majesty..."

For a good one minute, you stood still. Your lady-in-waiting had delivered an earth-shattering news—but admittedly, a possibility you thought was in the cards the moment you went against Naoya.

"His majesty has summoned the high priest to his study," the elderly woman added, close to tears. "But it is very likely that he has submitted the petition for—" her voice faltered when she caught sight of the emptiness in your eyes, unable to continue.

A divorce. Naoya had been considering a divorce. And by now, he was set on it.

"I'm so, so sorry..." she choked out, her voice breaking with sorrow to mourn you, but you remained expressionless, lost in your thoughts.

The last time an empress of Eastern Empire was divorced was more or less a century ago, because she had committed a grave treachery against a royal consort by poisoning her. She was sentenced to death by hanging afterwards.

The irony. You were in similar situation, only that you weren't vengeful enough to resort to poisoning Hanabi. Speaking of her, her baby was due in another four months, and now she was living happily in Naoya's quarters.

"Don't be. I'm perfectly fine."

To consolidate his illegitimate child's position, Naoya used the most effective way. Since you wouldn't listen to him, and Hanabi must be a far delightful companion rather than you, he was more than willing to cast you aside in favor of making her his empress instead.

You thought it would hurt more, and yet what you felt the most right in this moment was white-hot anger. This is unacceptable. It was the greatest insult to you both as a woman and as the empress.

Now, all you could think of was how to uphold your dignity and plot your exit from this palace with your head still held high.

If I can't be the empress here...

And after a sleepless night, you came to a daring solution. And your plan—

...I'll be one somewhere else.

It was an invitation, Satoru thought, almost in disbelief. Or it sounded a lot like one, didn't it?

Heart beating a little faster and blushing, he reread the latest letter you had sent him.

It's only the beginning of summer, and the heat is sweltering... I'm considering treating myself to a trip to the winery village on the border between the east and west. I think it'll be nice if I have a companion...

Winery village was right in the middle of the western and eastern empires, and it was a safe zone. Vineyards were vast and thick, but it wasn't exactly a popular vacation spot. So, it intrigued him why you would want to go there.

Just as he was about to reply to you that it was a very good coincidence that he too wanted to pay a visit to the said village, suddenly—

"Gojo! Gojoooo!" Shoko suddenly burst into his study, startling him.

"Shoko! What the heck?!"

Lady Shoko might be a countess, but she, Satoru, and Suguru all attended the same royal academy. Despite their prestigious titles now, Satoru insisted that in private, both Suguru and Shoko address him just as they did before he ascended the throne.

Still, she was ruder than Suguru in many ways. Satoru gave her a stink eye, but his confusion grew as she seemed to be delivering momentous news.

"Gojo, have you heard that Naoya will divorce Y/N?!"

"Wha?" it felt like a ton of bricks suddenly fell down on his head. And then his friend proceeded to tell him everything she knew.

"It wasn't made official yet, but even the townsfolk have been talking about it. They also said that Naoya have taken a mistress, and that she was formerly the empress' maid."

Satoru listened to her in silence, but the moment he heard that the Zen'in spawn planned to divorce you, anger flared within him. And to add insult to injury, he two-timed you with a servant?

The fucking bastard. He never deserved you at all. How crushed must you have been, enduring all this shit?

"Now, I wouldn't normally encourage you this," Shoko took out the cigarette she stashed in the folds of her dress and sighed. "But since you never let go of that weird fixation on her, should the royal divorce happen..." she shrugged as she took a seat in front of him.

"No matter how laughable it is, you might have a chance."

She is so right. These long years of longing for your affections and dreaming of having even a minute more of your time... there was now chance to turn it to reality.

When you arrived at the winery village for your vacation to breathe in some fresh air, honestly, everything was still in shambles.

You couldn't forget the horrified looks from the court when Naoya announced the divorce. Most were shocked and pleaded with him to reconsider. Some from your circle of ladies even sobbed, openly stating that you didn't deserve this fate.

“Empress... His Majesty shouldn't be that harsh...” Hanabi had said to you afterwards, seemingly concerned for you. “Your legacy here… I’ll make sure to carry them on.”

Sometimes you didn’t know whether Hanabi was pretending to be dumb or indeed she was. One thing you knew though...

“I wish you luck on that, Hanabi.” You looked down at her with eyes as cold as ice. “Beware, the Emperor is fickle, be sure to not run out of entertainments.”

You knew you deserved a better fate than being the empress of the Eastern Empire, but seeing those who still cared for you made you solemn. Your loyal maids, those who supported you... and what about organizations you've spent time and energy to?

“My queen, ah, there you are.”

Satoru's voice from behind startled you, interrupting your daydreams. He quickly came beside you and extended his hand, asking for yours.

You offered him your right hand, and he promptly pressed a kiss on it, his bright blue eyes gazing up at you.

It wasn't as if you just noticed how pretty his eyes were, but now that there was no ballroom and scrutinizing eyes around you, you couldn't deny that the way his eyes sparkled as he gazed at you—solely and purely on you—made you breathless.

What... would it be like to have this man... to be your husband instead?

"I missed you. I know we talk daily through letters, but seeing your beauty firsthand is always a sight for sore eyes," he cheekily commented as he let go of your hand. "Now, I get to see you without your pesky husband around, and yeah, you never fail to make my silly heart race."

You chuckled. "You always flatter me..."

He only gave you a toothy smile, and you two strolled the vineyard. For a while, you talked about nothing of importance, like where your ladies-in-waiting were, how things were from his side.

"How do you find being the emperor?"

"It's tiring! It's boring too to look through accounts and oversee those trivial state affairs! And not to mention how many people have been nagging me to take a wife soon!"

"Oh? You haven't been on the lookout already?"

"Nah. No one is good enough, I need someone already familiar with state affairs and such," he said, wrinkling his nose sourly at the thought. But then he cast his eyes on you.

"And frankly, you are my standard," he fixed you a meaningful smile. "No one comes close. If you weren't betrothed to the Zen'in back then, I'd have proposed you in a heartbeat."

Thump. Thump. Thump. Your dead heart suddenly came to life. Gojo Satoru had just confessed his affections for you so candidly, and it got you thinking how much easier your life would be with him. He would love you, take care of you...

And beguile you.

His eyes fondly crinkled at you. "You are everything I desire in a woman to be my wife."

He adores you so easily, so fluidly... and yet, Naoya, who has you fully, is throwing you away.

Satoru observed how your face fell once again, just as it had during the New Year's ball. And now he knew, it was because you were facing your impending divorce.

But he wasn't going to tell you that, instead, he would willingly be your confidant and offer you his very being. He was about to crack a joke to lift your spirits, when you blurted—

"What if I said... I want to be your empress?" you kept your pace, not looking at him at all. "What if I said... I'll leave everything and come to you?"

Huh? What…?

That was loaded. Have you entertained the thought too? Satoru had craved the very idea for so long he didn’t even miss a beat—

“Then I’d marry you.” His voice was straight and true, shooting straight to the most tender part of you that Naoya had torn to shreds. “If you become my empress… that will make me the happiest man alive.”

No hesitation. It almost reduced you to tears. You stopped where you stood, willing yourself not to tremble. There is still one person who sees this much value in you.

“Then I’ll be yours,” you breathed out. “I’ll be your empress, Satoru.”

Satoru could've sworn time had stopped. If one moment ago, you looked like you were about to shatter, now you were a vision of the dignified and perfect queen he had always known you were.

“I’ll be your queen— your everything.” You declared, locking eyes with him, the intensity of your gaze not escaping him.

How many years had he dreamed of this moment? How many long nights had he endured, yearning for you, knowing you were beyond his reach?

Finally, finally... Satoru grinned, swearing to all the divine beings out there that he had never known how liberating it was to finally have what he wanted. “That would be my greatest honor.”

He drew you close—you let him—and after one second of taking in your enchanting eyes, he crashed his lips against yours.

His lips started soft and gentle, then became fiery as his tongue met yours. He pulled you closer, one arm around your waist and the other holding the back of your head. You responded eagerly, pressing against him, fingers tracing his neck and feeling the lines of his undercut.

One is finally having the woman he had wanted for so long, and the other was plotting her escape from her misery.

You were using him. He knew it. Yet, he didn't care. Hidden behind bushes and vines, you shared your very first heated kiss, aware that this moment would leave its mark as both the greatest stain and triumph in your lives.

And when he finally pulled away, lips swollen and wet, with a wolfish grin, he promised you once again—

“Give me everything that is yours... and I swear on my life, I will do everything to turn your life into a living dream.”

“Empress, your husband His Majesty the Emperor, has requested a divorce.”

It was how your once pristine life transformed into the scandal of the century inside the courthouse.

"If you accept this petition, then you will no longer be the Empress of Eastern Empire. You will lose all the rights you have as a senior member of the imperial family..."

You donned your finest attire—the intricate crimson and black dress you had designed and commissioned the dressmaker to create. Today, faced with Naoya's divorce decree, it would be the last time you adorned the colors of his empire.

"The ties that bound you together as husband and wife would be severed—"

Good riddance, you thought.

"If this is not what you want, you have the right to—"

"I accept the divorce."

Your voice cut through the heavy solemness of the witnesses and turned them into a mass of disbelief. You disregarded Naoya's smirk and held the priest's gaze. "And I demand an immediate approval for my remarriage."

The crowd was in for a second wave of uproar when you boldly stood your ground, and they erupted into clamors once again when Satoru made his grand entrance and took his place beside you.

"You—!" Naoya was so furious that he roared. "This is my empire!"

"And?" Satoru challenged with a dauntless smile. "I'm here to propose, and since she accepts your divorce request, I believe she has no relations with you any longer and is free to marry someone else."

You remained motionless, until your cold fingers met warmth when Satoru linked his hand with yours reassuringly.

"This is treachery! I won't fucking permit it!" Naoya hollered as he faced the high priest, who had a grim face while observing this three-way headlock between the three of you.

"Emperor Naoya, that matter falls into the jurisdiction of the church." The high priest let out a sigh and then turned to you, assessing your calm gaze.

Regardless, Naoya paid him no mind. "I refuse to grant you any permission to remarry! You will be banished to the cold palace until the rest of your pitiful days! Not only do you fail miserably by being barren beyond help, you also dare to whore yourself—" he was now rambling curses at you before everyone in the court, and it pierced you deeply—

Until Satoru tugged you behind him, so that you wouldn't have to see his face any longer.

"High priest!" Satoru's voice blared as he clenched his jaw, irate at the string of profanities directed at you. "Do you still truly believe that the deposed empress can't remarry? When she has suffered through this man's downright betrayal?"

Your head was spinning. You wanted this whole ordeal to be over already.

And thankfully, even the high priest saw reason, that you were undeserving of this debacle. In the end, his words held more weight than anyone else's, even Naoya's.

"I accept Empress Y/N petition to marry Emperor Satoru!"

In the chaos of the courthouse after the high priest granted your wish, Naoya shook his head in disbelief, looking at both of you with intense disdain.

"You've always wanted that wench, haven't you, Gojo?" Naoya cackled with a malice you would never have expected from someone who had been your husband for ten years.

You had tuned out all the noise. This dumpster fire was too much even for you. But then, you felt a strong arm enveloping you, sealing your fate as the match made in this courtroom—

"I have, yeah," Satoru replied with a smug grin. "And now that she is mine... it's just the beginning of your downfall, Zen'in."

Your wedding banquet in Western Empire lasted a week long.

True to his promise, Satoru spared no effort to make you happy. The moment he brought you to his palace, he ordered immediate plans for wedding celebrations. Make it grand, make it unforgettable... he took charge himself.

And on the final, seventh day, as you were about to be formally crowned as the empress of the western lands, you were stunned.

"This is your coronation dress, Empress," your new lady-in-waiting, Shoko, said with pride. "Gojo— I mean, His Majesty, specifically has his late mother's dress altered to suit you."

You promised yourself that you would no longer wear any shades of crimson. As much as you loved the color, it reminded you too much of your homeland and Naoya. No matter how much you despised him now, once upon a time, he was everything you loved and more.

And you thought you couldn't possibly love another color until you saw the extravagant navy dress in your chamber. Made of luxurious satin and adorned with literal diamonds, it shimmered under the light and flowed gracefully with layers of brocade cascading to the floor.

To give you something so valuable... You had expected to enter into a marriage out of necessity, but your new husband had no intention of ceasing his ways to win your heart.

If it's with him, maybe... just maybe...

Today is the day.

Satoru sat on his throne before his court in the grand hall of his audience chamber. His hair was pulled back, and he was dressed in his official attire, robe of silk and a crown made of pure gold.

Next to him, another resplendent crown adorned with jewels and diamonds shimmered in the light—the empress' crown. Your crown.

Today was the day this empire would truly acknowledge his queen. He stole a glance at you on his other side, and his breath was taken away.

With your hair tucked into an elegant updo, you were the very vision of a fairytale queen. You were incredibly stunning, almost otherworldly— shade of blue suited you as much as crimson did, just as he thought.

This day would go down in history. But before that, he would ensure that the news would reach Zen'in Naoya. He would spite him so hard.

"Today marks a momentous occasion. We gather here to celebrate not only my marriage and my new wife's coronation," Satoru glanced at his audience with a smirk, his expression widening as he spotted his best friends Suguru and Shoko. "But also the start of her reign... and as we know it already, her fame and beauty are second to none."

The crowd burst into giggles, clearly aware of his scandal at the Eastern Empire's courthouse. And even you smiled.

Satoru shrugged, playfully rolling his eyes. "Spare me, I'm a newlywed, after all. Anyway..." His gaze shifted to the intricate crown, a relic of his late mother's, and then back to you. "Come."

You knelt before your new husband, bowing your head. The whirlwind journey from the East, your remarriage to Satoru... It had all felt surreal until this moment. Now, the weight of reality settled upon you, almost shaking your very core—

But just as the thought crossed your mind, Satoru placed the crown upon your head. As the jewels settled into place and you rose to face the crowd, his voice cut through the air:

"And here I present to you, your new empress!"

The room erupted in applause, the cheers echoing around you. Everyone congratulated you without fail, and your breath was taken away.

It was a sight beyond belief, as they chanted your name, over and over again—

“ALL HAIL THE EMPRESS!”

"I have something for you!"

You wouldn't expect that you would ditch your last night of wedding celebrations along with your husband, and yet here you were, led by the hand by a very giddy Satoru.

"Where are we going?" you questioned him, your pretty dress sweeping the halls in a rush.

He turned to you to send you a wink. "Trust me, sweetheart. You'll love it."

Somehow the way he called you made your heart thump a little faster inside your ribcage. This man is really, truly, your husband now.

He was such a refreshing person, it almost made you let go of everything that molded you into the perfect empress in the east, and be just... you.

"Here." Both of you stopped in front of a grand door, and he ushered you inside. "Come, come~"

A study, you realized as you stepped inside, but then a gasp left your lips—

"How do you find it, hmm?" Satoru put an arm around your waist, proud of how the burgundy walls and mats enveloped the entire space, creating a tranquil sight that perfectly matched your taste.

It was so much like your private study in the Eastern Empire's palace. You might now hate that place, but your private study was filled with the memories of smiles while writing back to Satoru's letters and waiting for his cat to come. And to have this now in your new home...

"You remembered..." you looked up to him, almost tearing up.

"Of course I do," he pressed a kiss on your temple. "I said that so long as you're with me, I'll turn your dream into reality, didn't I?"

This man really treasures you, or at least that was what his actions had proven so far.

"You're everything I've ever wanted and more," Satoru said, wrapping his arms around you from behind in a warm embrace. "You might not realize it, but I've been in love with you since you first visited western lands."

"What?" you turned to him with genuine confusion. "How?"

"That blind boy who you led by the hand... he had no friends," Satoru sighed against you. "The first and only person who asked him if he was lost... is you."

Suddenly, you were thrown back in time to your first encounter with Satoru many years ago. He was known as "cursed" for being born with peculiar eyes, had been blind for a period of his childhood, before he awakened the true extent of those brilliant blue eyes and brought his clan to power by wielding them.

Back then, you thought it was wrong for him to be left alone, so you took him by the hand and escorted him back to the palace, unaware that he was the infamously cursed crown prince.

"You made me feel less lonely. And I thought then... someday, somehow... through some sort of miracle in which I regained my eyesight and could see you... I'd immediately ask for your hand."

But you were named the crown princess of the Eastern Empire. The thought of how crushed Satoru must have felt upon hearing the news pricked at your heart.

You felt soft, you felt loved, and most of all, you felt an overwhelming certainty that with this man by your side, you would finally experience the genuine love that had been missing from your life for so long.

"You have me now," you whispered in response.

Unlike your first kiss in the winery village, this time, you were the one who faced him and pulled him into a searing kiss.

Be it impulse, overwhelming feelings or something else... you didn't care. You just want him.

And wouldn't you know, your new husband... is also a wonderful, dashing lover.

"You're so... fucking beautiful..." Satoru's lips were on yours, claiming them with a fierce passion that left you breathless. His hands roamed your body, tracing each curves and lines.

You moaned into his mouth, clutching his robes. He captured your wrists with one hand, using the other to tilt your head back so he could leave bruises on your neck in the process, making you moan.

"Keep making that sound, yeah?" Satoru rasped, his hot breath giving you goosebumps. "Keep me going with your voice."

As he gripped your waist, it dawned to him once again that you were here, with him.

Seeing his colors on you ignited desire straight to his cock. His empress was stunning, more so now than ever, more than any woman Satoru had ever seen.

He led you to the bed, his movements urgent yet tender. The air was thick with desire as you lay back, pulling him down with you. You arched your back, pressing yourself closer to him, craving more.

This wasn't your first time, yet you had never been this excited before. From heated kisses until somehow managing to get rid of your underwear and left you in your dress... your body nearly thrashed in response.

"Look at you... An queen of two empires, yet rendered putty in my hands," Satoru wickedly grinned as he slipped a hand under your dress, rubbing his thumb teasingly over your clit. You let out a soft sigh at the prodding. You were getting wetter by each second... and Satoru felt his cock straining against the tight material of his dress pants.

"More..." you pleaded, arching your hips. "More...!"

Any of your wishes would be his command, so he pushed two fingers inside you at once, and you let out an erotic gasp. Satoru was so close to tearing his pants off by seeing how tight you clenched around his digits.

Breathy moans fell from your lips with each harsh brush of his thumb over your clit, his fingers fucking you fast—

"Satoru...!" you shuddered, gripping his shoulders as you became limp and came into his hands in spurts.

"My queen..." he then captured your lips in a brash kiss, and you reciprocated it. He pulled away only to press his forehead against yours in an attempt to calm his raging heart. "No matter what."

His watery, sparkling eyes was mesmerizing to you, and you took one breath before you crashed your lips into his, tangling your fingers in his hair, pulling him closer.

"As pretty as you look in this, I'm going to take it off," Satoru murmured with a meaningful smirk, slowly undoing the laces of your dress. "I want to see you completely naked... just for me."

Soon, you laid bare, and the cold air made your body shiver. Satoru clenched his jaw tightly at the scrumptious sight.

It was almost difficult for him to take in all of you at once—your flushed cheeks, swollen lips, erect nipples, and legs spread wantonly for him. Satoru had been here so many times in his dreams, and to see it becoming reality...

"If back then, you had chosen me instead—" he sounded almost heartbroken, which startled you. "I would have treated you right from the start—"

You looked up to him. "You would..."

"Don't you know how many years... I've been just there— watching you and that bastard? Knowing I can do even more than him?"

"Mhm..."

You rose, tugging him closer, before you unclasped his robe, letting it fall to the floor. "Satoru... right now... I'm yours."

He allowed you to undress him and soon he too was out of his stuffy royal attire. Your eyes wandered on each part of his body you touched. His chiseled body, snow-like skin, and then the hardened bulge that sprung out the moment you undid his pants—

The sight of his cock alone only turned you on even more. You gently gripped the glistening head, running a thumb over the tip before gliding your hand towards the base of his length. With a gentle rhythm, your hand moved from base to tip in a slow, teasing motion... before pecking his head.

"Yeah... you're right." His eyes never left yours, admiring you as if you were the most precious gemstone, before catching you off guard. While you rubbed him, he snaked a hand around your waist, pulling you so that you tumbled on top of him.

You moaned loudly as his cock—big, both in length and width—entered you, his hands gripping your thighs to spread them apart so he can shove himself deeper.

You felt so, so full, as you pulled Satoru to you tightly, groaning into his shoulder. And he started to set the pace, moving against you.

"Ahh," you moaned out shakily, fingers clawing into his back. To him, the sounds you made drew him in like a siren's song, it made him throb inside you. "Ahh—hngh!"

"Feel good?" he asked, voice sultry and deep, as he thrusted into you particularly harder, causing you to stifle a moan. "Let it out—hah—sweetheart... I want to hear you, hmm?"

And you did. You felt hot. Your unabashed, nasty sounds with each thrust drove him to the edge. With every lift of your hips, you squeezed him so tightly it almost made his head spin. His breaths came in short pants too.

"You fit me so damn well," he groaned, holding your hips hard enough to leave imprints of his fingers. "So fine..."

One woman. It took just one woman—you—to unravel him like this.

"Satoru, harder—" You commanded, wrapping your arms around his neck even as you trembled. "N-not enough... harder!"

He actually had to swallow, because you and your pussy felt so damn tantalizing. "As you wish, Your Majesty."

He slammed his hips against yours twice—no, thrice the previous speed, and you incoherently squealed. The squelching sound of your hips slamming against each other, and the immense wetness coming out where you two were joined... it was clear: you were addicted.

"Did Naoya ever make you feel as good as I do you now?" he drawled, sinking into you impossibly deeper, squeezing your left mound and flicking your right nipple at the same time. "Did he... ever make you ride him like this?" And then he instantly regretted his words.

Because the moment he said that, you felt cold, reminded of nights in which Zen'in Naoya grabbed you just to forcefully breed you. You winced, and Satoru caught it.

"I..." you shifted your gaze away from him, and he could've sworn that it was sorrow he saw flashing in your pretty eyes. "I-I... don't want to talk about him..."

Feeling remorseful, Satoru reached for the back of your neck and pulled you to him, kissing your lips softly. "I'm sorry—"

"You don't have to—"

"Tonight, I'll make you scream my name so hard you'll forget him," he promised as he pulled away from you, his eyes darkening. "Tonight, give me everything and I'll show you how a man truly loves his woman."

And he followed through. He worshipped you meticulously, treating your body with the reverence one might bestow upon delicate glass. He peppered kisses on every inch of your skin he could reach, lips and tongue trailing down, his relentless thrusts so well-paced and brutal at the same time.

"I'm— close!" You whimpered, and yet still grinding your hips against him. He was watching your every move, every wave of pleasure that was evident on your face— committing it to memory for those moments when he couldn't hold you close.

You gasped—as a mind-blowing orgasm then ripped out of your very being, your hips faltering as you surrendered to ecstasy with a cry of his name, coming all over him. "Satoru... Satoru! Ahhh!"

And Satoru kept his gaze on your face as he too busted inside of you hard, feeling himself filling your womb with his essence, his hands kept your waist steady, memorizing the way your lips part and the way your body went limp into him with satisfaction.

Dear heavens, I love you. The sight of you was nothing but perfection, and with everything he had, he was very sincere when he said—

"You're flawless, sweetheart."

2 MONTHS LATER

"If you give me a son, I'll throne you as the empress right on that very day."

The Eastern Empire's palace was bustling as the royal consort's screams echoed through the halls. The day Naoya had been eagerly awaiting had arrived—his mistress was delivering his heir.

Yet unbeknownst to him, whispers in the dark suggested the royal baby was arriving suspiciously early. Many, still mourning the previous empress who had been dethroned so abruptly, were not exactly thrilled with this turn of events.

"My lady, just a little bit more!" the maid encouraged. Hanabi strained once again as the pain peaked and her body spasmed, letting out the loudest wail as the baby finally slid out of her.

"W-what... is it?" on the brink of passing out, Hanabi asked anyone who might hear her. She had to know, for she was so close to obtaining her throne—

"It's a girl, my lady!" the midwife announced.

What?

Her world crumbled at that very moment. A girl? A girl can't be the heir!

She wanted to sob, to utterly mourn, and right at this moment she was full of fear, because if Naoya knew—!

Like a curse, he suddenly made his presence known in the birthing chamber. His face scrunched in distaste at the scent of blood filling the air. He took one look at Hanabi, tearful and frazzled after the ordeal, then turned to the midwife, who was trembling at his presence.

"A baby girl, Your Majesty."

In that instant, fury flashed through him. He shot everyone in the room a glare before his eyes settled on his consort, full of spite.

"You useless tramp."

Your life with Satoru in Western Empire was wonderful.

He was everything Naoya was not. Satoru adored you, prioritized your well-being and happiness, often humored you, and made your days an endless delight.

And dare you say... you had begun to return his affections as well.

How could you not? Everything he did, he did with you in mind. He eased you into your position so seamlessly, and soon you found your place comfortably at court.

"He is mixing pleasure with his kingly duties," Suguru grumbled, watching his best friend order the gardeners to plant more blue roses simply because you mentioned finding them beautiful earlier. "Empress, you have to keep a tight grip on his leash."

"Well, at least he's happy." Shoko shrugged and nudged you. "Can't you see by now? How much of a loser he is for you?"

You did see him—a man who showed you everything he had. He had given you everything you unknowingly needed.

And you just wished... you could return the same for him. It still made you bitter, knowing you might never be able to give him heirs due to your condition.

. . .

"Sweetheart... what's on your mind, hmm?"

You looked up to him as he pressed a kiss on your cheek, an arm securely around you, sweaty and panting after your steamy session.

With his hair down and messy after you yanked him earlier, your lips curved into a genuine smile. "You look hot like this, you know?"

He clicked his tongue. "Hmm, I am, of course. But no use in changing topics, I know you well enough now."

Your bare body was pressed against his chest, fingertips tracing gentle lines on his skin.

"There's a possibility that... I can't give you any children." You almost felt ashamed saying this to him, unable to look at him in the eye. "I-I... I've failed for many years—"

"Hush," he silenced you with a finger to your lips, his expression firm. "No thinking that, yeah? I don't care."

"But—"

"Children are gifts," he said then, caressing your face tenderly. "It's not up to us to control how it'll take or not. And I married you not because I want heirs or such—I love you, you know?"

Your glassy eyes met his, and you willed yourself not to shed a tear.

He grinned cheekily. "Besides, you've felt it yourself—my sexual potency is undeniable. And I don't believe for a second, that you're what that bastard claimed you to be. I bet he's the one who is impotent—"

"Satoru! You're so obscene—!" you giggled freely and poked his chest.

At that time, you were just relieved that he didn't mind. Though it was still weighing in your mind on some days, you felt a newfound sense of liberation compared to when you were still in the Eastern Empire.

But you were in for another plot twist. Perhaps Satoru is correct, and your doubts are unfounded...

"Ugh..."

Your stomach churned in discomfort, a sickening nausea that seemed to twist your insides and threaten to force its way up. This had happened for days now.

You wanted to find a physician before Satoru was aware of your state. You didn't dare to hope or speculate, because you were tired of it by this point. You just wanted clarity.

Yet, the physician's words left you speechless.

"Your Majesty... it seems that you are with child," he remarked in wonder as he assessed your vein. "Yes, definitely. You are with child."

It was a revelation you hadn't expected. For years, you had been convinced that you were unable to conceive, but now...

You were carrying a new life. Yours and Satoru's.

You felt like bursting with joy as you made your way to his study. Your heart swelled with an overwhelming sense of happiness. Above anything else, you were eager to share this news with him—

...until everything you had known turned on its axis once again.

Right before you went past the ajar door, you saw a glimpse of your husband and his most trusted confidant, overhearing snippets of their conversation:

"Satoru, however you look at it, this is tantamount to declaring war," Suguru sighed, clearly at odds with his perspective. "It's not wise."

"We can finally put an end to them this way," Satoru's tone was steely as he moved a chess piece across the map, positioning it on the border between east and west. "No better time than now."

"The Empress will face the greatest backlash from this. They'll accuse her of being vengeful enough to provoke an attack on her home country—"

"On the contrary, her presence will encourage those still loyal to her to defect. That's why I have her here. We need defectors—"

You let out a choked gasp, backing away from the door in shock. For one good minute, you refused to comprehend what Satoru was implying.

. . .

Did your new husband... marry you for his own hidden agenda?