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librosamarillos · 1 year

Text

passed down like folk songs

chapter 33: berries and exotic blends

Maegor Targaryen x OC

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Tags: hurt/comfort, friends to lovers, angst, mature themes, targaryen incest, violence, Maegor is a red flag himself, characters are ooc probably, MINORS DNI

this chapter contains nsfw content

Rowan and Lana stood by the bed, both trying not to glare at Murmison, who was ‘performing his miracles’ on Ceryse. It was always some variation of the same prayer to the mother every night and everyone but Aenys and Murmison were losing their patience. Ceryse, somehow, managed to mask her hostility with an amazing grace that Rowan admired fiercely. The hand of the King eventually bid them a good night and left, and all three polite smiles immediately dropped.

“I do not know how much more of this I can put up with. Gods! He is insufferable!” Ceryse sighed as she got up from the bed, crossing her arms.

“Truly! That thing he said tonight, about asking the mother to forgive you for any shortcomings that could’ve led to this? In what world was any of this your fault?” Rowan added, frowning deeply. She couldn’t believe Aenys thought any of this was actually of any help. He had the absolute privilege of an education people would kill for, and yet he was so easily persuaded by the words of that man. Rowan couldn’t understand it, where was all this charm she heard of? He was just some man.

“In the same world where that creep is hand of the King!” Lana chimed in, looking distraught. Ever since she returned to King’s Landing, she was completely bewildered by everything that she had missed. She had been involved in the narrowing down of her potential matches in Highgarden, and she had been away during the beginning of all this mess. Rowan nodded.

“I still don’t understand why he was who the King chose. There’s so many other people he could’ve chosen instead.” Rowan added, completely frustrated by the King’s choice in council. Alyn Stokeworth was a good hand, that is before his early death, and surely there could’ve been a lord that could fulfil that role better than Murmison. He had a very creepy air around him. She didn’t like it. None of the three women did, certainly not after all the prayers for this miracle he had promised Aenys.

“Asking him to choose is where you’re going to have issues. I swear, he tells everyone what they want to hear and nothing else.” Ceryse said sarcastically, finally feeling relaxed enough to not speak in the pretty lies of court. She was clearly and rightfully frustrated with the King. He hated to have people angry at him, but this was not a good way to go about it. Rowan thought for a moment.

“Maybe you should talk to him. It’s been enough time of humouring his so-called solution, he’ll have no room to push for this to continue.” she concluded, crossing her arms. Aenys was, despite everything, a kind and loving man, and he was very fond of Ceryse. He was so occupied with everything that perhaps his judgement was not at its clearest, so if Ceryse went to talk to him in private, she’d surely make him see reason.

“Do you think he’ll actually listen?” Ceryse asked, sounding tired. She looked tired of this whole situation. She had handled it all with so much grace and patience, and she looked like she was running out of both and Rowan could never blame her for it.

“Yes. Make sure he understands that Murmison is not doing anything to help him or you. That way he’ll have to tell him to stop and hopefully pick someone else to be his hand.” she replied, feeling more sure of herself. Ceryse was smart, Aenys could not deny it, and thus, he’d have to consider how she felt about this strange method and eventually, come to realise how insane it was and apologise for it.

“And mention how creepy he is too.” Lana added, her face distorted to one of disgust. Murmison had an air about him, one that made them all not want to leave any woman alone with him. Lana was much less formal about her distaste of him than Ceryse and Rowan were, and she gave them both that push they needed to start being more assertive about all this. Rowan was happy she was back.

Lana had left for bed, and Rowan was getting ready to wish Ceryse a good night, when Ceryse gave her a warm smile, her annoyance gone for a moment.

“I’m glad you’re feeling better.” she said softly, gently. Rowan stood still, confused for a second, before looking up at her. She could not deny that everything was difficult for her since Maegor left, and she could only pray that nobody suspected anything, as she did her best to drown herself in work, trying to forget, to distract herself from everything. Ceryse’s gentle blue eyes were not accusing her, but they seemed happy for her.

“What?” Rowan asked, just as softly. “What do you mean?” She already knew what her friend meant. So far, she had been keeping herself so busy in order to distract herself from her heartache and the deep betrayal, but lately, the air felt lighter. She tried to forget about the letter Visenya had given her, tucked away and hidden carefully in one of her many books, but Maegor’s words both stung her and pushed her out of that deep depression she had fallen into. She tried not to think of him too much, a task that was monumental, but easier when she relaxed and trailed the routines she and her father had in King’s Landing.

She wrote to him, to her aunt and uncle, to her cousins, to her family that she missed so deeply, even to her two uncles, who were septons in Oldtown. Her father sounded happy that she was feeling better, his words full of kindness and love, that she wanted to run all the way back to the Evergreen forest and crawl back into her childhood bed where he’d tuck her in and read her stories. But the next best thing was to do what they’d always done together, making themselves useful to those in need.

“You look a lot less sad these days.” Ceryse smiled again, treading gently with her words, testing to see if Rowan still felt fragile. Rowan was so glad that her dear friend was also interested in helping with the project, as it was a distraction for her as well, from Murmison, from Aenys.

“Oh… I didn’t know I looked sad.” she furrowed her brows, giving Ceryse an apologetic smile. She didn’t want to be a burden to her friend, not when she had so much on her shoulders. She hoped she came off as more indifferent, as more relaxed, but it seemed that nothing escaped her friend’s careful eyes. Ceryse let out a small laugh.

“Rowan, you know you’re terrible at hiding how you feel. I know you were really affected by what happened, being so close to the Dowager Queen and all. But now, you’re going out more, you’re smiling, you’re laughing, you’re much less… gloomy. That’s good, Rowan, really good.” she said, placing her hands on Rowan’s shoulders. Rowan couldn’t help but smile. Despite how much pain her betrothal to Maegor brought her, she was so happy that she and Ceryse became even closer friends. She cherished her so much.

“Thank you, Ceryse.” Rowan held her hands for a moment, thankful for this moment. It would be better, despite what Maegor did, things would be better. They’d focus on the expansion of the orphanage, then focus on making the city a better place to live. She wouldn't think of Maegor. She’d try to not.

“Are things better with her?” Ceryse asked softly, a look of sympathy in her eyes. Rowan sighed, looking down. She wanted for things to return to how they were with Visenya, when Rowan trusted her more than anyone else, before she shattered that trust, but it would take time. Visenya was apologetic, far more than she’d ever seen her being. She was trying, and for Rowan, it was enough for now.

“I suppose… We just don’t talk about it. We’ve fallen into a routine of sorts. I don’t know…” she trailed a bit. How she wished she could explain to Ceryse all the complexities, all of the unspoken secrets, all of it, to grant her peace of mind, to grant her the truth behind her goodmother’s frosty demeanour, but she could not.

“As long as she’s not causing more trouble.” Ceryse sighed in turn.

“Yes, I don’t think Aenys can handle anything more on his shoulders.” Rowan said lightly. She worried about Aenys. She hated to see how sick with worry he was, how much everything affected him deeply. She promised herself she’d help. She wanted him to stand on his own, to understand that if he tried, he could keep things peaceful, even if it would take a lot of work. She wanted to yell at Maegor, to call him a fool for leaving his brother all alone with everything. Ceryse’s face turned serious at that moment, making Rowan pause.

“I feel it, something is going to happen. For everyone’s sake, I hope he’s prepared.” she said softly. Rowan felt it too, but she tried to rationalise it as anxiety and that Visenya would not let something bad happen to everyone, but she still felt it.

The next morning, Rowan had prepared the detailed plans for the expansion of the orphanage to give to Aenys. She knew he was drowning in everything wrong with the kingdoms, so it would be nice to make him feel like he was helping with something good, even though he wasn’t really doing anything to contribute. Everything was taking a toll on him and it worried Rowan.

She walked toward the King’s solar, hoping that he wasn’t too busy this early in the morning, but as she got closer to the door, she saw Ceryse storm out of there, with Aenys calling after her. Rowan was left stunned, wanting to run after her friend, but she had gone in the opposite direction, toward her rooms. The King came to the door, looking bewildered, before his gaze landed on her.

“Lady Rowan! Would you happen to have a moment?” he asked, his big, lilac eyes pleading for help. She fought the urge to run after Ceryse, and nodded.

“I was actually coming to see you, your grace.” she said politely and formally, as the guards seemed bewildered by the encounter between the King and his goodsister.

“Good, good,” Aenys sighed and entered the room once more, “come in.” he said, motioning for her to follow. Rowan did so quickly, reminding herself that she shouldn’t rush this meeting, no matter how much she wanted to. She was now filled with worry about what occurred just moments ago in that very room. She watched him as he paced around the desk, pure confusion in his eyes.

“What happened?” she asked him gently, trying to get to the bottom of it all, although she knew that Ceryse would be the one to give her the whole truth of the matter, she still wished to talk Aenys through it as well.

“I don’t know! She just stormed out, after telling me she’s leaving for Oldtown!” he said, confused and a tad frustrated. Rowan’s eyes widened, her words gone from her tongue. Ceryse was leaving? Why? Why was she leaving when she had been so determined to stay and not give her position up?

“Did she not come to speak to you about Murmison?” Rowan asked, regaining her composure, gripping the leatherbound book in her hands. She did not wish to jump to conclusions, for she knew it was wrong, but it was now easy to see what happened, when Aenys looked down, defeated.

“Yes, that’s what she started the conversation with.” he said, opening his mouth to speak again, but closing it, regretting his decision. He seemed to understand that he had messed up, with whatever followed.

“And how did you respond?” she asked, patiently waiting for him to speak, urging him gently. Aenys seemed unsure of his own words, like he often did. Sometimes, she thought he spoke them more so to convince himself of their truth.

“I told her that his methods may be strange, but in the end they’ll prove fruitful! So many people vouch for him!” he said, now sounding more frustrated. Rowan frowned. She felt a deep sense of disappointment that he continued to be so blind and naive, so much so that he was driving his goodsister away, the one person who could truly help him with the alliance she brought to his house.

“And have you met any of these people?” she asked, her tone less gentle, but still soft. She needed him to see, to understand. There was no person that came forward and claim that Murmison truly healed them, only the words of others who had seen him do it, as they claimed. But this could all be a lie. “Do you know how uncomfortable it is? To have to lay there while an old man is praying over you to ‘fix’ you? There’s no way of knowing that any of his ‘miracles’ actually work, let alone knowing that this is Ceryse’s ‘shortcoming’ in the first place. I don’t understand why you believe in the word of this man so much!” she said, and with each word, she had to remember to remain calm. The anger she felt was for Ceryse’s behalf, for the failure of the two men to keep her safe. Aenys seemed to freeze for a moment.

“He… he said he could fix things. I thought…” his voice was soft, thin, ashamed. It gave Rowan the hope that he was finally seeing reason. She walked to him, placing a hand on his shoulder gently, before speaking up again.

“Aenys…” she spoke softly again. “There’s no magic solution to fix everything. And I can guarantee to you, the last person to fix things for you is Murmison.” she said, trying to urge him gently toward a different decision, a better one. At this point, anyone could be a better hand for him. “I know everything feels impossible, like there’s no right choice to make, but I’m sure if you try, you’ll pull through.” she assured him, trying to cheer him up a bit.

“Thank you…” he sighed, looking away for a moment. “There’s… there’s something that I think will help.” he said after some time, like he was deciding to let her in on a secret.

“What’s that?” she asked. It made Rowan nervous, worried that he had fallen for the pressures and whims of some lords that took advantage of his kindness. Aenys smiled slightly, standing up straight.

“Aegon and Rhaena will wed at the end of the year. A celebration and a royal progress, they’ll bring joy to the realm, help calm things down, don’t you think?” he asked, looking at her with pleading eyes, like he was asking for her to agree with him, to tell him he’s right for once. But Rowan stood in shock. “You don’t think so?” he asked, disappointed.

Rowan tried to pull herself out of the shock and disgust she felt, he was still her King, and more than that, he was becoming a friend. She chose her words carefully.

“I… it’s just that… they’re both so young, Aenys, they’re still children.” she said softly, trying to bring herself to sound calm. In truth, she was horrified, mostly for Aegon and Rhaena, two young children, forced to marry a sibling? Gods, the poor dears. But what could she say?

“Well, both Alyssa and I were around their age when we were wed. They get along so well, it’s a great match!” Aenys sensed her worry, and placed his hand on her shoulder in turn. He seemed so happy in his decision, the first time in a long time, and she felt a bit of guilt that she had to say what she had to. She took a deep breath.

“Aenys… The faith is already not on the best terms with the crown, not after Maegor defied them so openly. Maybe… maybe you should wait. Try to smooth things over with the High Septon, and Ceryse, first and foremost.” she said gently, softly, trying to tell him that this would be a disaster. Marrying a cousin, a distant one, was not uncommon, as the couple would be raised apart, but this? To have to marry someone in their own close family?

“You… you don’t approve of the match.” Aenys’ smile faltered, disappointed that Rowan was not happy. He looked away for a moment, contemplating something. Had he been relying on Rowan’s support? Did he tell Visenya and she didn’t give him the reaction he wanted, so he searched for it in Rowan?

“How I feel is irrelevant. But how the faith will react matters.” she said, speaking more plainly now. She had to think of Rhaena and Aegon, how they’d be feeling about this. Did they not dread it? Then again, they were not raised into normal family dynamics, who knows how they’d taken the news?

“They’ll see reason, Rowan, don’t worry. Targaryens are not the same as everyone else.” Aenys sounded more calm now, strangely calm. Who was feeding him such lies? His father was always careful with the faith, and Maegor’s actions were proof of what defying them did.

“I… Aenys… I don’t think it’s a wise choice. At least not at the moment.” she repeated. At least if he waited, if he mended things, if he got the High Septon on his side, maybe it wouldn’t be a bloodbath, but now? Now as things were this tense? Aenys did not share her worries, for what seemed to be the first time. Instead he had a look in his eye that she couldn’t quite read.

“I understand that it’s difficult for everyone to see the reason behind our traditions, but it is my duty to uphold them. It was something my father and I discussed when they were young.” he said. He sounded sad. He clearly missed his father, but it surprised Rowan that this was the Conqueror’s wish, to see his grandchildren wed to each other. Especially when he knew what kind of backlash this would cause. It was strange that he did so little to ease the realm into such actions. She decided that the Conqueror was not always the brightest man.

“I understand that, but things are fragile right now, you know this. There’s still time for them, they’re still so young, you can find the time to win over the people again before making a decision that will be so divisive.” she said, still hopeful that she could get him to understand, to get him to not do this, to prevent disaster.

“Divisive?” he asked, appearing surprised, if not a bit offended that Rowan just called their incestious traditions divisive. She looked at him, praying silently to the crone, to help guide her to make the right choice, to use the right words.

“Yes. Surely, you can see that, Aenys.” she said gently, trying to get him to see her side, or better yet, everyone else’s side. She was never truly alright with Aegon and Rhaenys and Visenya, as it always felt so wrong, so bad, so unnatural. Even more when she got close to Visenya and truly saw and understood how bad it truly was, despite her love for him. She prayed that a similar fate wouldn’t meet the young Princess and Prince. So far, Rhaena was playing with puppies and horses, and flying with Dreamfyre, and Aegon was making friends around the castle. She couldn’t imagine them in such a situation. They should be left alone, allowed their childhoods without this mess that could fall upon them.

“Perhaps we should talk another time.” Aenys said, sounding very distant. Rowan could not tell if she got through to him, but her intuition told her she had not. He was merely disappointed that she didn’t see his vision of the future, an optimistic and naive vision. She frowned.

“I understand.” she said softly, as she left the room, her book still unopened. She was supposed to discuss the plans with him, to perhaps get him to leave the castle, to show the people that the King cared about them and their wellbeing. But instead, she feared disaster was coming. She needed to talk to Visenya. Surely she’d know what to do.

But first, she hurried down the halls, passing the many unfinished rooms and half built walls, to reach Ceryse’s room. She wanted to see her, to ask her why she wished to leave. If she could get Aenys to talk to both of them, surely they’d manage to be rid of Murmison’s ‘treatments’. At her door, she found Morgan, who was deep in thought, before her footsteps alerted him to the presence of someone, causing him to reach for his sword, only to be relieved to see it was just Rowan.

“I’ve come to see how she is, she was so angry when I saw her storm off.” she told him, looking between him and the door. He seemed worried as well, but he did a much better job than Rowan in keeping it calm. Morgan nodded.

“She’s packing her things. She said she wanted to be alone for a bit.” he said softly, looking down at her. Rowan frowned. Ceryse was truly determined to leave King’s Landing. She looked down for a moment. Would she be selfish to ask her to stay, to change her mind? She was the wife, the only rightful wife of the Prince of Dragonstone, she had a place in the capital, her voice was supposed to be heard here, she was the light of Oldtown, the one that was to build the bridge between crown and faith, and yet Aenys was failing her, running her out of her new home, despite it not being his intention, and then he was planning to perform a marriage of pure sin between his two children. Would Ceryse’s presence here even help? If anything, Aenys might even pressure her to speak in support of this, risking a rift between her and her own family and faith. Perhaps it would be best if she returned home, at least to avoid the storm that was coming.

“I understand. I’ll check on her later.” she nodded, turning to leave. She wanted to speak to Visenya, to get her to speak to Aenys, this time with her there to mediate, to keep them both calm, to find a way out of this mess.

“Wait!” Morgan called after her, taking her hand in his. He looked around the hallway to make sure no one else was there to listen. “I know you’re in the Dowager Queen’s service, but do you really wish to remain here?” he asked her, looking into her eyes. Rowan was at a loss for words for the second time this morning.

“What do you mean?” she asked without thinking.

“I mean… What future could you have in this city? Sooner or later, chaos will ensue if things do not change. You should come to Oldtown. It’s safe, stable, closer to your home, your family. I know you miss them all dearly.” Morgan said, his voice gentle and warm. He could sense it too, even without knowing, he felt the danger. He was a kind man, someone she was glad she met, and even more glad to know he was devoted to protecting his sister.

“My lord… I cannot just leave…” she replied softly, barely above a whisper. She loved Visenya. She had been there for her when her true mother could not, she was in almost every sense of the word, a mother to her. She could not leave her, to abandon her, even if she was beyond hurt and barely now healing. No, she could not do it.

“Consider it an invitation. Our fathers have not seen each other in some time, I’m sure they’d love to catch up. Oldtown is where your house sells most of the wood is it not? I know Ceryse would love to have you there… as would I.” he said, holding her hand so tenderly. Rowan stood there, surprised at how forward, yet formal, he was being. Ceryse had made some comments about how fond of her he was, but Rowan was too distracted by her hurt to truly notice, to truly give it proper thought. She was flattered, yet her heart stung, as it belonged to another man, one that was far off to Pentos.

“Morgan… I don’t know… I would love to visit, believe me I do, but I cannot abandon my duties here.” she said, placing her hand on his, as he held her other hand. It was the truth. She loved their company, and she loved Oldtown, it was no lie. And Morgan was kind and chivalrous and sometimes even sweet. She felt so much guilt again. Here was a man, a knight, who was subtly making his affections for her known, and her stubborn, loyal and hurt heart felt as though she was betraying Maegor and herself. Thankfully, Morgan did not give her much time to dwell on her sadness.

“Perhaps if she gave you a few moons to relax? Surely, if your father asks her to, she will not deny it. They’re close friends, are they not?” he asked. Rowan supposed it wouldn’t do much harm, a moon or two. But it was still risky. She wanted to be here for the project, she wanted to make sure Aenys had someone to talk to, she wanted to remain by Visenya’s side. But she’d be lying if she said she didn’t wish to run away at times.

“I…” she trailed, unsure of her own words. “I’ll write to him. But I cannot know for sure. Things are so unstable, and I can only fear for the worst lately.” she admitted, giving Morgan an apologetic smile.

“You and I both.” he chuckled lightly, looking down for a moment. “But please, consider it. We’d all love to have you.” he said gently, giving her hand a gentle squeeze. “And your father as well, of course.” he added quickly, trying to not be so obvious, let alone when his sister was in distress. Rowan couldn’t help but smile at him.

“I’m flattered, Morgan.” she said, feeling a bit better.

Maegor felt another headache coming in. He had made himself some chamomile, recreating all the steps Rowan would take when she’d make him some. It was like he was becoming even more lovesick by the day. He could not help it. He only dreamt of her at night, and even in the day and yet, he drowned in guilt even more. He read the letter his mother had sent him, the cause of the headache.

‘Your brother plans to wed his eldest two by the end of the year. With how tense things are, I want you to be ready to step in. I doubt he can handle what will come, he will surely rebuke his own order of exile and beg for you to return. Make sure you and Balerion are ready. I want you ro return, looking like the King you were always meant to be.’

His chest puffed up in pride, knowing that his mother believed in him so fiercely. With everything they had planned coming closer and closer to fruition, he couldn’t help but feel a buzz of energy for it all. He had been spending all his free time training, fighting like a beast, readying himself to be a warrior like no other. He wanted to be the strongest, the most powerful, the one that could protect the people he loved the most, his mother and his Rowan. He wanted to see her again so badly, it hurt.

‘I know you will ask, and she is doing well. I gave her your letter, and she’s kept it. Her moods are lifted, and your brother puts a lot of trust in her. She has been getting involved with the people of the city, having plans to make it better, more livable, as she says.’

His heart welled up with pride. Oh, his darling, she kept his letter and did not tear it to shreds! He was glad, so glad that she was better, that she was her old self again. Of course his sweet girl would want to help, she always did, and now she had the chance. He wanted to tell her to just wait for him to return, to claim the throne and crown, and she could do upon the city as she wished. There was no one he’d ever trust more, aside of his mother. He was relieved she was happy again. He selfishly wanted to believe that his words of love had something to do with it.

‘Your wife has left King’s Landing for Oldtown, along with her brothers. She’s had a falling out with your brother. It was his fault. He listens to the fool he has made his hand.’

He frowned. Aenys and Ceryse had always gotten along, how in the world did he manage to make her lose her temper? He wished his mother had written more. Maybe it would be easier that Ceryse would not be there when he returned. It could give him time to sort everything out, and then seek her out to explain. She’d see reason, he knew it.

It was always an unwritten, unspoken expectation and reminder with his mother, the need for an heir, a son. Things were falling apart quickly under the rule of his brother, which only meant his time was coming to take the crown for himself. If he could not have a son by then, he could at least have Alys expecting one.

He sighed. Even from his room, he could hear her and Tyanna laughing. It annoyed him, it distracted him from the anticipation of any news from his mother, but now that the letter was read over and over again, he locked it away.

Tyanna was a strange woman. A beauty, yes, but she had an air around her, her black eyes seeming to know so much, but she would not outright say so. Alys was completely enamoured by her, fawning over her, laughing at even the most unfunny joke, hanging by her every word. It was a bit pathetic, but then again, he knew he wasn’t one to talk. It annoyed him how easily Alys had accepted her into her chambers, after she had barely known her, avoiding any sense in her brain.

Unlike Alys, Tyanna seemed to prefer the chase. She clearly liked having Alys fawning over her, trying to impress her and Maegor was almost certain that she might actually have some affections for Alys as well. He would never care to know any of this, had Alys not dragged Tyanna into his room, on more than one occasion, in order to get all three of them ‘closer’. He did not understand, since Alys was clearly so enamoured with her, why she’d want her in the room while they performed their marital duties in hopes of an heir, let alone want her to join in.

To her credit, Tyanna refused almost gracefully, for someone of her station. She did however, slowly win Maegor’s grace, for her vast knowledge. She had given them foods, berries and jouiced pomegranates, and teas to make their coupling more intense. Maegor just suspected that she was a common whore that charmed Alys, but she was more than that. She had tools he could use when he returned as King.

Eventually, after Alys’ annoying pleading, he relented and allowed Tyanna to join in his chambers. It was awkward at first, as Alys was trying to impress Tyanna, Maegor was trying to chase a dream of his love, and Tyanna was testing the waters. They figured it out soon enough, with Tyanna focusing entirely on Alys, taking great pleasure in preparing her, giving her foods and teas to enhance her fertility, her chances of giving him an heir, and of course, in giving her pleasure.

He was more than happy to let them take care of each other, as it gave him one less thing to care about, as selfish as he was, but Tyanna had more suggestions. She had insisted she knew how to make this even better for him, which he highly doubted, as his idea of perfection was untouchable, but he humoured her. She had him sit up on the bed, while she and Alys took turns stroking and licking him. He could not decide if he hated it. He could not imagine Rowan like this, he could not smell the jasmine, he could not escape into his dream. It wasn’t like it felt bad, but it wasn’t what he preferred. He made a note to stop them after this and tell them he didn’t care for it, but for now, they seemed to want to give him a show.

His mind however, was not occupied by the two women that pretended to compete for his attention on their knees. No, it was in the same place it always was in moments like these, to Rowan. His mind went to her and he was angry again, at the thought of that pathetic Lannister finding any excuse to touch her, be it by kissing the back of her hand or offering his elbow to her for a stroll. He’d kill him if he saw him again, he vowed it. He’d tear him limb from limb and he’d make sure he’d be awake to still torture while he lied there helpless.

He then wondered, would Rowan think the same? Did she also want to kill Alys when she heard the news and he ran like a coward. A far more twisted thought came to mind… would she kill for him? Would his darling kill the two women in front of him right now? He knew she’d never hurt a fly, she was too kind for her own good, but gods be good, she’d look so pretty covered in blood just for him. He wondered how she’d do it, a knife, an axe, a sword? He’d give her Blackfyre, if she could lift it. Perhaps he’d help her, hold his hands over hers while they took the fatal swing together and perhaps she’d let him kiss her while she’s covered in the blood of the two corpses on the floor.

He could see it vividly, far more vividly than Alys and Tyanna, who were generously giving him a show. But that was always how it was with sex. With Ceryse, it wasn’t too vivid, it was a routine, a chore that both needed to participate in and neither wanted to truly be there. But with Alys, his mind could go wild. Her hair was almost the right colour, almost just as curly, her skin tone almost the right warmth, her honey brown eyes almost green if the room was dark enough. Almost was enough for him to pretend quite vividly, and with Tyanna’s aphrodisiacs, sex could be enjoyable, if he could picture his Rowan enough. He didn’t like the thought of her joining in at first, but her blends proved helpful, and Alys was having her fun. If they were all using each other, they could at least find pleasure in it.

It was sick and cruel and he knew it, but Alys didn’t, and if she did, he didn’t care. When he got her the hair oils that smelled like jasmines, the silk nightgowns in green, the honey he made her lick off a spoon before she kissed him, it was wrong and deep down he knew how twisted it was. But he still didn’t care. He loved to take her from the back, to not look at her face, and have her hair all curled up, the candlelight adding that red warmth to the strands that made the fantasy almost perfect. He loved to have her like that, so he could grab her hair, with the same hand the precious ring was on, and smell the jasmine and pretend it was his darling bouncing beneath him. It was selfish, to use her like a placeholder doll, far more selfish than what he did with Ceryse. Alys was certainly enjoying herself, but he thought she was enjoying what Tyanna was doing to her much more. It didn’t bother him, she could have her fun too, since he was already using her so blatantly, why not allow her this pleasure?

Every night they visited his chambers, it came close to perfect, if he wasn’t so ready to pick them both apart. He never said anything out loud, for even he wasn’t that cruel, but it was obvious to both women that he was never truly satisfied with them. Alys would pout at first, before deciding that it was just the way he was and ignoring it, but Tyanna was not one to let things go, not when it was of potential benefit to her.

It was clear what she wanted. Power. He could give it to her, he took her from being a tavern dancer that worked for food and shelter, to a courtesan, because even if he was exiled, he was still a prince with massive wealth. He was no fool, he could see right through her false smiles and fake politeness. She was just like him, hungry. For power, wealth, for more. Many shared such ambitions, he didn’t blame them for trying to come close, but unlike most of the women willing to sell themselves for it, she had more to offer. Promises and potions for what he was so desperate for, an heir. She was a witch and did little to hide it. In Westeros, she would’ve been dead the second she said it out loud, but here in Pentos, she had the freedom she needed to grow her talent.

She’d make a useful ally to have. And if she proved herself, if Alys did indeed give him an heir, he’d have her with him once his brother grew a spine or his five years passed. She seemed content with having his ear, being his mistress, but he knew she’d want more. The question was if she was worth it.

taglist:@heartstalked@stupidocupido@discowizard88@slytherisstuff

#maegor targaryen #maegor targaryen x oc #maegor the cruel

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dianneking · 1 year

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In Her Arms - Queerplatonic Miranda/Robin (Top of the Lake)

This is my entry for @duckprintspress‘s May Trope Mayhem 2023 Day 1: Queerplatonic Relationship. As soon as I read the prompt/trope, I thought of my favorite underrated pairing, so I hope you enjoy! Crossposted on AO3 - if you prefer reading it there, link is in the title below.

Tags: Spoilers for Top of the lake: China girl season finale, Hospitalization, Gunshot wound (mentioned - not graphic), Coma, Jealousy, Infidelity, Angst, Angst and Fluff, Angst with a Happy Ending.

Fandom: Top of the Lake: China Girl - Pairing: Miranda Hilmarson/ Robin Griffin - Wordcount: 1052

In Her Arms

It's a split second decision: she doesn't stop to think, she doesn't - for once - let the voice of reason convince her that she shouldn't, that coworkers that barely know each other don't simply jump into each other's arms. She just jumps, as instinctually as Miranda has opened her arms, expecting nothing less than for Robin to trust her.

Surprising even herself, Robin does.

That's why Robin is now enveloped by Miranda’s strong arms, being held against the blonde's chest and being deposited so very carefully on the warm sand.

Miranda’s arms linger a little longer than would be normal, and at the same time they leave too soon. It all lasts too little, and yet to Robin it feels like a lifetime. She can still smell Miranda’s delicate soap scent lingering around her, mixing with the saltiness of the seaside air. It is as if Robin has found something in those arms, something she didn't know she had lost.

"There you go!" comes the cheerful voice from up above her head, and Robin tries to once again focus on her job, on her professionalism, pulling her usual mask back on her face. But as she looks up, she can see a warm understanding in the deep blue eyes above her, and that shakes her even more than the unexpected hug did.

"What is she to you?"

Adrian looks at her accusingly from across Miranda’s hospital bed, pain and regret distorting his face. For a man who's still married to his wife while trying to build a family with Miranda, he sure doesn't make much of an effort to hide the jealousy in his voice, Robin notices.

Hypocrite. As if he was the only one allowed to care.

But Miranda wouldn't want her to lash out at him, however much Robin wants to - he was supposed to be the one directing the mission, he was the one supposed to have contingency plans and safety measures in place, he was the one who should have kept Miranda safe - so instead she focuses on his question.

What is she to you?

Robin thinks of the ease with which Miranda reached over and held her hand while they walked side by side. She thinks of the tears that they have shed together. She thinks of Miranda’s arms around her, holding her, grounding her, keeping her together. She thinks of the special, secret smile that lit up the constable's face when her eyes found Robin's from across the room.

"She's my friend." The word feels wrong in her mouth - to reduce what she had with Miranda to simple friendship feels unfair, especially now - and yet, theirs was not a romantic relationship either, was it? Miranda had Adrian, after all, and Robin...well, Robin didn't need anyone else.

"A friend she'd take a bullet for."

"As I would for her."

"I wish you had."

Robin's eyes travel along Miranda’s body, looking so uncharacteristically small under the bandages, the tubes and the wires that keep her together - that keep her alive - and finds that his words don't hurt her as he probably wanted them to.

"I wish I had too."

He stops visiting after a while, and Robin is both relieved and angry. Relieved not to meet him anymore - the tense silences in the hospital room wore her out more than the loneliness does - but angry, because how dare he abandon Miranda. Word around the station is that he patched things up with his wife and Robin can't help but think how heartbroken Miranda will be when she wakes up and hears the news.

Because she's going to wake up.

Robin squeezes the long, slender hand she's holding, as Miranda used to do with hers when she could feel Robin was upset.

She's going to wake up and Robin will be there when she does.

The nurses stop trying to make Robin leave the room when visiting hours end. The people from HR stop asking her how much longer her carer's leave will be. Robin stops counting the days.

It feels as if her whole world is waiting with bated breath for Miranda to wake up.

Robin keeps holding her hand, waiting.

"Hey."

Miranda’s voice is rough and crackly, her lips are chapped and her cheeks are sunken in, and yet her small, tentative, tired smile is the most beautiful work of art Robin could imagine admiring, her voice the sweetest song ever heard.

She can now admit to herself that a part of her had been terrified to not be able to hear her voice, to see her smile anymore.

She squeezes that soft hand once again, and this time the long fingers wrap around hers.

"I had the weirdest dreams."

And it's such a Miranda thing to say after being in a coma for weeks on end, that Robin can't hold herself back anymore and - carefully, delicately - hugs Miranda around her shoulders, and what starts falling from her lips as a laughter quickly turns into sobs as all of her fear, her sorrow, her guilt finally come out. Miranda’s hands come trembling up - even this small movement is such an effort for her - and land on her back, soothing, comforting.

When the doctors clear Miranda to go back home, with strict orders not to tire herself out too much, Robin puts her foot down and convinces her to come stay at her place - only for now, she reasons, until you get your energies back. Miranda accepts, looking at her with that soft, understanding look that makes Robin stammer and bluster and remind her that it's just because Miranda needs someone to keep her in check otherwise she would overexert herself within five minutes of being home.

Miranda doesn't say anything, and just smiles down at her, her eyes crinkling up as if they had just shared a secret joke.

That evening, when she sees Robin bringing her pillow and linens to the couch, she's the one putting her foot down, and telling her not to be ridiculous and just come to bed. She holds her arms open, welcoming, and as Robin curls up against her side, she can't help but think of how perfectly she fits into the blonde's embrace, and she allows herself to simply bask in the happiness that she only finds in Miranda’s arms.

Liked it? You can find more of my fanfiction on my fanfiction masterlist!

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remnantsfm · 1 year

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[EVENT 002] PROMPT MASTERLIST

this is the official masterlist of prompts for PART II of [EVENT 002] SHADOWS OVER ANSAN. before participating, please read the update post HERE. reblog this post for each muse you would like to participate with!

RULES.

please make sure you read the event update linked above!

everyone who participates must send at least one prompt to other participants. you can send multiple / anonymous prompts, but make sure at least one is off-anon, so that the main can keep track of participation.

question prompts must be answered in-character. you can decide on the format of the answer (either your muse's response as dialogue or written prose of their reaction, etc).

with that said, any prompt can be turned into an interaction, so feel free to communicate and start threads based on one!

participation (sending at least one prompt to every participating muse & answering at least one prompt) will count for activity.

please tag all answers / threads with #rmnt:event002.

QUESTION PROMPTS.

Describe yourself in your own words.

Describe your flaws.

Are your flaws redeemable?

Are you a good person?

What do you think it takes for someone to kill? To murder?

How far would you go to protect the ones you love?

How far would you go to protect yourself?

You dream of a face, a voice, a presence. Though the memory may be distant, and though you may not have known it then, you think that this must be how it feels to be safe. Who do you see? Whose voice do you hear?

You are found guilty of a crime and sentenced for a century in exile, in a place of your own that has been designed to evoke the most punishing sense of isolation. What does your prison look like?

You strike a deal with your memories as a price. However, this devil is merciful: they allow you to keep just one. Which memory do you save?

You strike a deal with your memories as a price. However, this devil is merciful: they only require one memory. Which memory do you give up?

You awaken with an inexplicable dread weighing in your stomach. You worry that something is wrong; you need to hear their voice to be sure. Who are you thinking of?

Your home falls. Where else do you seek shelter?

You are struck blind, robbed of your sight in broad daylight. Using your other senses, you think you can navigate to safety. What path do you take? Where do you arrive?

Choose a beginning: to have grown up alone but capable, or to have grown up loved but naïve?

Choose a fate: to be woven into eternal history but despised by all, or to be loved but ultimately forgotten even by those you loved most?

Choose an ending: being feared, being adored, or being forgotten?

You are standing in the water, mesmerized. The waves, which have risen, are now almost strong enough to sweep you out into the vast ocean. Just in time, someone from the shore shouts something that cuts through your haze and compels you to finally turn around. What do they say?

A nightmare devil seeks you out in your sleep. Fed by the sweet fear of bad dreams, it twists your senses, distorting the room and its form to become your greatest fear. What do you see?

What makes you human? Are you, at all?

INTERACTION PROMPTS.

" you don't look so good. "

" i heard that the water isn't safe. "

" don't drink that ! "

" what do you think will happen if we drink it ? "

" please help me . all the water's been taken . "

" here . you look like you could use a drink . "

" i'm starting to feel it too . . . "

" this city is falling apart . we should leave while we have the chance . "

" tell me a secret . "

" i trust you and you trust me , don't you ? we should just wait out this fever together. "

" i know you're lying to me . "

" how do i know what you're saying is true ? "

" i don't trust you . "

#rmnt:event002

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loviatarwrites · 2 years

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incubus (nsfw)

Incubus x Reader

Word Count: 8.4k

Summary: He pressed one of his hands to the backrest of the sofa and used the other one to lift his chin up towards his face, making him feel her breathing. She squirmed on her seat, not knowing how to react, so her body decided to stay put, and she looked directly at him. He wasn’t able to show her his true self made him sigh, but the fact that at some point she would feel much more than this eased the feeling.“What if this is something I’ve wanted to do to you?” He said.

A/N: She keeps dreaming about the kind barista from a coffee shop, yet she doesn't know that someone, or rather something, else has became part of her dreams. Slightly problematic, but was fun to write anyway. Please read the tags.

She got off the bus at the exact same time every day. Whenever she did, she double checked to make sure that she hadn’t left anything behind, put on her headphones, selected the music and started her walk to her apartment. It wasn’t a long walk, but it still allowed him to loom over her, watching her as she walked and occasionally tapped her phone to skip to the next song. While she proceeded to repeat the same routine every day, what she didn’t know was that above her, in the shadows, the creature was watching her, wondering when would be the time when he finally made his move. He had seen her the first time when she had stopped by the coffee shop after her work to quickly get a latte before running to the station just minutes before the departure of her transportation to home. When in his human form, he was like any other man, with almost a forgettable face, which helped him to blend in, unlike he could in his real form, which would make people around him question if they were dreaming or not. There was something curious about her, the way she didn’t mind anything or anyone around herself, and how it looked like any small change on her schedule would break everything. Overall, she seemed like a person who hoped that everything she had planned would go just right, and there wouldn’t be anything to hinder that, or otherwise everything would come crashing down. And that something was just what he wanted to witness. Even without her knowing it, he had become a part of her daily life. He watched as she woke up, how she cursed her alarm, how she tried to decide what to wear and if she decided to cook or order a takeaway after her job. It was amusing to the point to just stand back and observe her, but it didn’t take long until he wanted to know her more, and whenever she went to sleep, his time started.

— Her dreams were always chaotic, with doors that led to completely different areas, people rushing past her only to disappear seconds later and scenes that jumped from one to another without any logic, so when he had first appeared to her dream, she didn’t think much of it. He had decided to disguise himself as a young man with blonde hair, one that didn’t distract her dream and therefore waking her up, but as someone that could approach her. “Excuse me. You seem like you are in a hurry, do you need assistance with whatever you’re doing?” She was standing by the staircase of a library, and seemed like she was not sure where she should be going. The library building was tall with glass windows that revealed a scenery of a marketplace covering the wall from the floor to the ceiling. On top of the ceiling there were countless rows of books, but where she stood was an area with round tables, some empty while some had people that seemed like they didn’t mind her talking next to them. He knew that it was because those people didn’t really exist, but for her, everyone around her was as real as she was, yet the weird and distorted aspects didn’t seem to bother her. “I don’t know. I feel like I should go somewhere, but I’m not even sure if I was going upstairs or downstairs.” She answered. “You don’t remember where you came from?” “No, but I rarely do. Sometimes I find my way to the end, sometimes I don’t.” “Maybe I can join you?” He offered his hand to her. “We can maybe find where to go that way.” She looked at him, and unlike he had predicted, she took his hand, before heading towards the staircase that would lead to the next floor. Her hand was soft, and something about her way of acting made him think if she knew what was going on. “You don’t want to ask anything?” He looked at her. “Not even to know about me and why I approached you?” “Why would I? I already know you.” What she said made him cautious. “You know me?” “That’s weird, we definitely know each other. You work at the coffee shop I always get my drink from. The barista.” She said with a bright smile on her face. He had taken a random face from her memories, and of course it was someone she knew on some level, not someone she had seen on a street once and forgotten, or someone from the magazine, but someone she had a contact with on a personal level. He sighed, and made himself remember not to pick this face again, to avoid doing anything out of character with him that would wake her up.

— She breathed heavily and drowned deeper into her dream. While he kept her busy in her dream, he was free to also feel her body, unlike he was when she was awake. Although she lived alone, her bed was big, and filled a good portion of one of the rooms of her apartment, yet still whenever she slept, she curled on her side, her face against the wall. “So small.” He laid next to her, gently lifting a strand of hair off her face. “So fragile.” Moments like these were only ones that he could be close to her body in his real form, even without her knowing that. One part of him wanted to break her dream, wake her up to the reality where he laid against her, but that would mean giving up on something that he wasn’t going to get back after breaking it. He had her in her dreams, and her dreams belonged to him, even if she didn’t know that.

— “When did we get here?” She looked around herself, confused when the library changed to an old mansion with light green walls and flooring that made sounds on every step. From the doorway she could still see the library behind her, and by her looks, she wondered if she should head back or not. “Do you want to go back?”

“Not necessarily.” She was still holding his hand. “ I feel like there is something here that makes me want to search further.” As she gazed at him, he noticed how a slight blush raised to her cheeks. He wondered if it was because of panic, confusion or if there was something else, but before he could ask that, she started to pull him deeper to the halls of the mansion. “Isn’t it weird?” He took a couple of faster steps to reach her side. “You, walking to an unknown mansion with the barista.” “It could be worse.” Her eyes met his. “At least it’s someone who I don’t mind spending time with.” “Oh.” “Funny how I’m usually too anxious to say anything.” She laughed. “For some reason it feels easier now.” They walked from one room to another, and even though the layout did not make any sense, they kept going forward. Time bent, and something that would’ve usually taken a long time now felt like seconds, and when they finally reached the room filled with paintings and old furniture, there was no way to tell how much time had passed. “I feel like the worst person.” She sighed. “How should I be able to talk with you after everything I’ve been thinking.” “Please tell me.” She let go of his hand and paced through the room, looking around and finally stopping to an antique sofa where she sat, looking like she was deep into her thoughts. She twisted her hair around her finger as she wondered, and while doing that, she looked even prettier than before. He walked to her, watching as she pressed both of her hands to the fabric and looked up to him. Clearly she was finished with whatever she had been thinking about. “It’s wrong to want you.” The tone of her voice was both light yet sad at the same time. “Why would I have these thoughts of someone that simply smiles and brews me coffee once a day? And sometimes asks me how I’m doing, but not if there are other customers.” He hadn’t come across the idea that she had feelings for this man whose face he was borrowing, but now when he knew that, he felt how he was able to do so much more than he had originally planned for. When normally he had to be careful when invading people’s dreams, with the knowledge he had just gained, he was able to go further, and knowing that made him grin. He had to control himself not to start pushing her from the moment he heard her words, so he just stood in his place, letting her continue with her flow of thought. “Forget it. Or like, you can’t forget but pretend I didn’t say anything. Damn. This is awkward.” Her words scrambled, and he got a glimpse of what would happen if something wouldn’t go as she had planned. “What if I don’t want to?” He walked close to her, closing the distance between them. “Do you run away if I do exactly the opposite?” He pressed one of his hands to the backrest of the sofa and used the other one to lift his chin up towards his face, making him feel her breathing. She squirmed on her seat, not knowing how to react, so her body decided to stay put, and she looked directly at him. The fact that he wasn’t able to show her his true self made him sigh, but the fact that at some point she would feel much more than this eased the feeling. He watched as her cheeks became rosy, and how she was clearly waiting for him to take the lead, and he took everything from the situation she had led herself to. “What if this is something I’ve wanted to do to you?” He said just before pressing the lips of the blonde man to hers, making her to mirror his movements.

— The sudden turn of events in her dream made her roll to her other side on the bed, and he had to be careful not bump into her. As she kissed the blonde man passionately in her dreams he noticed how her body got hotter, and how she muttered something in her sleep, probably to voice how she was feeling about things happening in her mind. “Keep going my darling.” He whispered to her. “Show me what you want me to do.” As long as he kept her busy with her dreams, he didn’t have to worry about her suddenly waking up. He knew that her alarm wouldn’t ring for multiple hours, and waking up in the middle of the night wasn’t something she did, so he could lay next to her, watching her as his mind twisted tighter around hers. Her body was beautiful but also still rather weird to him, so he had to move carefully, not to do any sudden movements that would disturb her. She hugged one of the pillows that she had gathered to her bed tightly, and he saw how she pressed even deeper against it when their moment continued on her dream. “Someday I’ll let you see me.” He brushed her cheek with his fingers that had sharp nails on them. “And then you’ll feel everything with not just your mind.” The light touch of his hand made her shiver, and curl even smaller than before. She took the blanket that was wrapped around her, and pulled it close to make a cocoon to herself, and he smiled as he watched her work. She didn’t know that she was being watched, and the way she tried to make herself as comfortable as possible made him think what she would be like if she knew about him. As she continued dreaming, he had to fight against the urge to touch her, kiss her body, and wrap his arms around him. When he looked at her, every moment was more painful than the previous one, but he knew that if he did it now, there wouldn’t be more sweet moments like this. There was nowhere to hurry, he told himself, and laid comfortably on the bed next to her, taking all the time he could for this particular night.

— She woke up to the alarm like any other day, and he watched as she proceeded to do everything the same way she did any other day. He watched from the shadows how she brushed her hair, chose her outfit, ate her breakfast and headed to work. Even simple things like how she watched herself from the mirror, or how she skipped over multiple songs on her phone only ending up listening to the same ones over and over again made him more interested about her life. Or more of destroying the beautiful and predictable it was. He kept thinking what she would do in the case of the unknown, in a situation that she couldn’t explain with logic. Would she freeze? Or maybe she would fight him, which would make the situation even more interesting. Whatever the case would be, the anticipation built on him, as he continued his wait. He knew that she would get a coffee after her day at work, so he took the appearance of yet another simple and forgettable man, and sat at the table beside the window. It didn’t take long for her to enter the cafe, just like she did on any other day, but unlike the days before, when she got to the entrance, she stopped for a couple of seconds. He watched as she gazed around the cafe, and how her expression changed as she saw the blonde barista behind the counter. She patted her jacket and sighed deeply. “Sweet how I can see what you’re thinking at this moment.” He thought while watching as a hint of blush rose to her cheeks. She assumed that her small secret was safe within her mind as she proceeded to order the same latte as always, tucking her hair behind her ear as the barista asked if she wanted to pay with cash or with card. The answer was always the card, yet it still took her a couple of seconds to answer, because her head was racing faster than she could keep up. While the barista didn’t know anything about what was currently going on at the cafe, he knew everything, even more than she did. He had all of the information, and watching the situation unfold was a great show to witness. “You remember how he felt last night.” He stared at the counter, thinking. “You think that you kissed his lips, felt his body against yours, but you’ll learn that he can’t ever bring you that feeling. Eventually, when I’ve made sure you can’t resist me.” When the barista called her name, he got up, to get to the door at the same time as her. He knew that she was waiting and within seconds, she would be out of that door, so he had to be quick to get to that door before her. “Thank you.” She said as he opened the door before her, like accidentally bumping into her. “My pleasure, lady.” He smiled at her kindly, and wondered if she for some reason would know that it was him and not just a random face on the crowd. Part of him was waiting for her to ask if they knew from somewhere. If they had met before or something along those lines, but those questions never came. Rather than that, the moment she was out of the door, she was already heading to her way, no further conversation, no look behind her back. Just a simple thank you. Nothing besides the bare minimum. He shrugged his shoulders and disappeared to the shadows where he could watch her for the rest of the day, without the need to mask behind someone else.

— He appeared to her with the face of the blonde barista she seemed so interested in, kissing her sweetly on her dreams and talking to her about whatever she decided to tell her that night. Her dreams were never linear, and she got lost and confused often, so talking to her wasn’t the easiest task. More often than not she felt like she was lost, and was just glad that there was someone with her in those bizarre scenarios her mind came up with. He was happy to provide her that company, even with a borrowed face, because more than anything, he got to enjoy the moments beside her, while feeling her body more every night they spent together. The kisses became deeper, and he felt how she let herself enjoy him and let go of the control of the situation within her mind. She enjoyed when he took her face to his hands, looked deep into her eyes and how their lips joined passionately. She liked his tongue massaging hers, his fingers on her hair, and his voice whispering to her ear. Even if the face wasn’t his, and the body didn’t feel right, he still enjoyed how she pressed against him, and wrapped her hands behind his neck, joining their bodies together a little bit more, and feeling the warmth of hers against him. “It must feel bad to stay awake every night.” She said to the blonde barista in her dream. “Oh?” “They say that when you can’t sleep you are awake in someone else's dream.” “Is that so?” “You must be terribly tired when you work.” “And you’re too sweet to be left alone in your dreams.” He pressed her against the wall of a building that didn’t exist in real life, but was sturdy enough to hold in her mind. His hand wandered to her stomach, and gently pulled her shirt upwards, making her moan lightly. Her skin was soft, and feeling it more than with a gentle touch he had been able to touch her while she was dreaming made him think how his nails could trace lines to it. He could press his claws to her, making lines all the way from her collarbone to her hips, marking her as him, so she would become his. Her hands dug into his blonde hair, and his hand moved upwards of her body, feeling the curves and finally pressing against her chest. The reaction which she gave to him, or at least to the body he was borrowing, was delightful, even though it was only on her mind. He felt how the lust in her mind drained him, and he fed off that feeling. He felt how her muscles tightened under his touch, and how she surrendered to his touch, allowing him to go further. In its current state her mind was like the most delicious wine, and he was ready to drink everything she had to offer. It wasn’t only her mind that was full of wanting and lust. While her dreams took a turn to new, undiscovered roads, she twisted and turned on the bed, rolling from one side to another before settling on stomach. He watched her moving restlessly, so much that by the time she was done, she had lost the blanket from the upper half of her body. Her bare back was exposed to the cold air, and her chest pressed to the bed sheets as she dreamed, and he watched from the other side of the bed as she mumbled something that made sense only to her. “Oh how delicious you are, my dear.” He whispered as his body heated up from all of the energy he drained. “I’m going to enjoy you, in ways you can’t even imagine.”

— On the upcoming nights, he started to push her more and more each time. Each night he gave her something new, something she hadn’t gotten from him before, and the more he pushed her the more his body fed off her. She let him slide his hands against her bare body, feel her in her entirety, and she enjoyed the things he did to her. Even if her body was everything he could’ve wanted, there was another aspect he grew to like greatly when he spent time with her in her dreams. First, when he had started to see if there was a limit somewhere, if he could kiss her, if he could slide his hand on her body, or if brushing fingers against her inner thigh was too much, she had been quiet, even to the point that made him scared that she was waking up. However, the further the time went, and the more he spent time with her, she started to voice herself more, with voices that were inviting and full of lust and need. Those were something he loved to hear, and seeing how she enjoyed him in her dreams made him want her more and more.

— In the daytime, he took the forms of multiple different people to watch her, and at nights, he learned every part of her body while wearing the face of the barista she clearly wanted to know more. One part of his days was to assure that every time she entered the cafe there wouldn’t be anything more than the minimum required interaction, no small talk, no exchanging numbers. If she ever got close to the barista, there was a possibility that everything he had been working towards would be for nothing. Even if he borrowed his face to entertain and feed nights on end, he didn’t want her to go any further than ordering a coffee when it came to the real world. With a face she knew it was easy to keep her in her dreams without a fear of her waking up. While he had been cautious at first not to wake her up by keeping the distance with her while laying next to her, on the past nights he had started to test his limits little by little. He had known that brushing her hair off her face didn’t wake her up, but he had soon discovered that she didn’t seem to react when his hand moved from her ear to her chin and to her neck, not even when her nails reached her shoulder. Feeling her skin on her dreams had been one thing, but feeling it in reality, in flesh and blood, was something on a whole different level. He was able to trace small lines from her shoulder to her arm, and he saw all of the small details of her skin, all of the beauty marks and even a small white scar on her left forearm. The only thing he had to be wary of was to not dig his nails too deep to cause any pressure that would wake her up, and even though he wanted to see small red lines along her body, he couldn’t do that just yet. However, just feeling her body like this was much more than just laying besides her previously, and if he had been able to go from that to this point, he was sure that here was going to be a time when she would make those same sweet voices to him in reality as she sung to him in her dreams. If he kept her focused on the dream, he was free to press against her back, put his hand around her and keep her body close to him. Doing that required him to keep his focus, and he was sure that if she was left idle, she would wake up instantly. Sometimes, when he pressed to her in her dreams her body reacted to that, and she moved even closer to him. Her body was small besides him, only reaching from his neck to his knees, and seeing her pressing to him and breathing heavily made him feel how his lower parts got more tense. In her dreams the one close to her was a young barista, not much taller than herself, with a bright smile and unkempt hair, unlike his true form that laid against her each night when she kept dreaming. While it was great to get close to her with the skin of a human, he wanted to see how she would look against his true body while not asleep, and how her body would feel under him. He wanted to see her eyes, looking at him as he made her plea and whine, and how her body would feel when he pressed into her, and what she would say to him when he would make her his.

— He had invaded her dreams for weeks, only rarely giving her time to rest and dream freely, but by the looks of it, her dreams had the opposite effect than draining her. When he looked at her when she woke up, she often blushed, probably from thinking of everything they had done in her dreams, and that small smirk after she remembered everything stayed on her face for a long time after waking up. She had learned that he was there when she went to sleep, and she never seemed disappointed when that was the case. He, however, was at the limit, waiting for just the right night to reveal everything, and taking what he had prepared carefully for weeks on end. One part of him had started to question if he even wanted to tell her the truth, and if it would just be the best to feed off her in her dreams, but when dreams were filling to a certain point, he wanted to get everything he could of her. Every night when he laid pressed against her, filling her dreams with lust and desire were enjoyable, but he needed even more than what she was capable of giving to him in her dreams. She was as beautiful as always the night he decided to end the game he had been playing. The evening had been like any other one, where she had been doing the same things as always before going to the bed, only to fall asleep quickly and him coming to her side the moment she did. In her dreams she felt almost lost without him, as she had learned that she didn’t need to be alone while dreaming, and every time he crossed paths with her on some alleyway or building, her face lit up. She had also learned that meeting the light-haired barista in her dreams meant certain things, and he thought if that was one more routine she had developed next to her old ones. “I’m a horrible woman.” She panted in her dream as he pushed in her. “I keep dreaming about you, yet I can’t even ask you on a date when I meet you.” The dream had gone like all other ones past weeks. As he had noticed earlier, she talked a lot more, and her moans every time he pushed deep in her made him fight against the urge to do the same thing to her mortal body. “What if I tell you there is something more.” He whispered to her while pressing her against the wall. “Something better.” “Why do you say that?” She gasped between her moans. “What if I tell you there is way more I can give to you?” His voice was more of a hiss than a proper voice. “Would you like to feel even better?” She didn’t even think before answering. “Yes, please.”

— “Did you sleep well?” He said and pinned her hands on top of her head while pushing her to the bed under himself. Her eyes snapped open, yet she still had to process for a couple of seconds where she was, and even after noticing the familiar objects of her house, the cold wave washed over her. Although she was at her bed, the reality felt more like a dream to her than the dream that she had just had, and she believed that whatever she was witnessing couldn’t be the world she spent her days. Her eyes met his, and the mix of orange and red made it look like there was fire in his gaze. His face was like a sculpture, and was framed with two prominent horns on both sides, parting his hair that reached his shoulders. “Speechless, aren’t you?” His voice was alluring. “Oh how I’ve waited to see you - really see you.” There wasn’t much light in the room, but her eyes started to get used to the darkness, making the figure on top of her easier to decipher. His skin was darker than hers, and had a red-ish tint to it, which matched his eyes. Without the horns there could’ve been a possibility that he could’ve been mistaken as a human, but even in the dark, those gave out that he was something different. “Well, my dreams have been tame recently.” She said and gazed at her hands that were still held tight, unable to move. “This is a new one.” “Tame, you say?” He pressed even tighter against her, and she felt how his body crushed hers under himself. She still wasn’t sure if she was dreaming or not, but the situation felt so odd that she couldn’t justify herself that she was awake. There had been more odd things happening in her dreams, so if she just tried hard enough, maybe she could get out of this one. That was, if she wanted to. “Wouldn’t you like to know?” She said snarkily. “I know, darling.” Just when she was about to move her hands, a long, rope-like thing grabbed her hands and wrapped them. “I’ve seen you when you beg for more, and heard the sweet voices you make when you come.” She noticed that the thing that had grabbed her was not a rope, but a tail, and she felt how it started to tighten around her wrists. The more she tried to sell herself that she was dreaming, the harder she failed. She tried to chant to herself that she had to wake up, search for something that was out of place, she even looked at her alarm to confirm that it was moving at a natural speed rather than jumping from one number to another. The idea that this man, this monster, would actually exist made her chuckle. In what world over two metre tall, fire-eyed man who had a pair of horns sticking out of his head would end up on top of her. “You seem like you know more than me.” She said, still looking for answers. “And you, darling, look like you want to ask something.” “Wow - you really are more talkative than my recent dreams have been.” “I’ll take all of the joy out of the fact that I can finally do that.” He brushed her cheek with his fingers that had long, sharp nails on them. “To talk to you when you are not dreaming.” “What do you mean by that?” She laughed. “I am most definitely dreaming.” “Oh, that explains your lack of reaction.” He grinned, and lifted her to sit on the bed, her back leaning to the wall and her hand on top of her head. When he kneeled on top of her legs, she had to look upwards to see his face, but she quickly turned her gaze to his hands, which started to trail lines from her neck. His nails were sharp, and gentle at first, only brushing her skin, but after a couple of moments he pressed them tighter to her skin, making her gasp for air as he did. She had heard that pain was one thing to know if she were dreaming or not, and if she had to believe what she just felt, she was most definitely not dreaming. “You’re even sweeter than in your dreams.” He whispered to her ear while tracing his fingers down to her stomach. She tried to hold back her voice, but the only thing she managed to do was to tilt her head upwards, exposing her neck to her. She had forgotten that it wasn’t his hand that was holding hers in place, so when he saw the opportunity, his fingers pressed gently on both sides of her throat, causing her to instinctively gasp for air, even though there was nothing stopping her breathing. “Starting to believe that you’re not dreaming?” He asked as he moved his hand from her neck to her chest.

“What if I’m not? What are you if I’m not imagining all that? A demon?” “Clever one.” His lower hand pressed to her side, pushing her against him. “Although more accurately it would be incubus. Or you can just call me by my name.” “Your name?” “Feels just right to finally introduce myself formally.” He grinned. “My name is Astaroth, darling. Now you know who to call when you beg next time.” Her face lost the remaining colour when she realised that she was not dreaming, even if the situation felt like she was. She tried to sell herself the idea of dreaming for one last time, convincing herself that incubi were as real as other creatures in her dreams and nightmares, and that there was no possible way that one would be pressed against her at that very moment. He looked at the demon holding her in place more carefully than before, and apart from the demonic features such as horns and tail, he looked rather human-like, and had some kind of aura that pulled her to him. She knew she should fight back, scream, bite and scratch, but something about Astaroth felt awfully familiar to him. “So quiet so suddenly?” He broke the silence between them. “What did you mean when you said that I had been different in my dreams?” “Exactly that.” “Exactly what?” Astaroth sighed and pushed his face close to hers. In seconds, his face had moulded to a completely different one, one that was much more familiar to her, making her gasp. She didn’t comprehend how to react, when suddenly facing the man that had become so familiar to her past weeks. The features were spot on like the ones she met at the coffee shop every day when she went to get her latte, and which had caressed her in every level in her dreams, and now, they looked directly at her eyes, and the only thing telling that this wasn’t the barista she knew was the fact that a different face had been looking at her just moments ago. “Starting to get the hang of the situation, love?” His face swapped back to his own, with dark features, prominent nose and small stubble on his chin. “It was - it was you.” Her voice trembled. “How long?” “Since the library. Or the mansion. Or the marketplace outside the building. Thinking back, that dream was awfully messy.” Her eyes widened when she heard the answer. She should definitely run, or try to fight him, even while she knew that there was no way she would win against the demon almost twice her size, yet her body didn’t want to raise a hand against him. Rather than that, her body felt hot, and something about her mind yelled at her how she wanted Astaroth to touch her even more. “Wondering why you don’t want to resist?” Astaroth grinned. “Why does everything go against logic?” “Why?” “How long has it been since the library?” “Weeks.” She admitted, and thought about all of the times she had met the blonde-haired barista, no, Astaroth, the incubus, the demon, in her dreams. “Was it you every time?” “Yes. And every time your mind would grow to want me, no, need me more.” “You’re a monster.”

“A demon, darling.” His fingers brushed her chest and his fingers flicked her nipple, making her gasp lightly. “A demon you desire.” “No. I would’ve never if I knew you were… you.” “But you did.” Astaroth smirked. “Now, relax and enjoy yourself, and this’ll be pleasant for both of us.” Astaroth’s hand caressed her breast, while the other one found its way to her inner thigh, rubbing gently against her clit, and she let out a voice that was a mixture of gasp and a moan. He pushed her legs more open, exposing her wetness and making her ask for him to release herself. Astaroth rubbed his finger on her wet slit, clearly enjoying all of the time he was allowed to take, and she wasn’t sure if it was better or worse that he barely touched her. She was scared of his sharp nails that had already left their mark on her body, but she also wanted to be touched and made good the same way she had been in her dreams. “Naughty girl, not admitting that you’re liking this.” His fingers drew small circles before parting her lips and pushing a finger in while making sure that he wouldn’t make her bleed. When she felt how he pushed his finger in her, she let out a soft moan, and when looking at Astaroth, she still fought her mind of the fact that an incubus was doing something to both her body and her mind, and even if it was wrong, she couldn’t deny that he made her feel things.

“When you were thinking about everything you had done in your dreams, did it feel this good? When you breathe heavily and touch your body before falling asleep?” “Did you think that I would be Virgin Mary? Pure of my heart and soul?” “The purity was never something I wanted, darling.”

She felt her head spinning, and how she pressed to his finger more every passing moment. Admitting that she wanted this wasn’t easy, but it was easier than fighting it, so she gave in for the feeling, and let it flush over her, taking her over the edge. She wasn’t sure if it was the fact that Astaroth was an incubus, a demon that fed off sexual desires, the fact that he was really good at how he touched her body, or the uncanny familiarly in his touch that made her feel what she felt, but the answer was too hard to find on that moment. She felt how her vision went blurry for a second, and how her breathing mixed with sudden moans. Something in her made her hold her voice back, yet she couldn’t deny that what she had just felt hadn’t felt amazing.

“Seems like you still don’t want to be completely honest.” Astaroth pulled his finger to his lips, tasting you. “Why me?” “I wanted to see what happens when you can’t explain something.” He said. “When you’re without your safe loop.” “Safety makes everything easier.” “Easy is not something I have had with you. But you are something I wanted to be mine, and seeing how you become more open to me day by day has been a delight.” She hadn’t even realised how her legs were still spread, but when she noticed how Astaroth moved so their hips were at the same level, she got something else to fill her mind with. She looked down, and saw something that when taking account how tall Astaroth was should’ve not been a surprise, yet still sent a feeling of fear to her body. Astaroth’s cock was big, bigger than any of her toys that she had bought, and bigger than she had taken in her dreams. There was no way she could’ve taken something that size to her mouth without instantly gagging, and the idea of taking it other ways either seemed unlikely too. Not only was his cock thick, it was also long enough that she doubted that she would be able to take even two thirds even with more manageable thickness. He was ready, there was no question about that, but her fear had probably been visible on her face because he didn’t make the move.

“Don’t be afraid. It’s not the first time you’ve seen it - technically. ” “Please no. It won’t fit, there is no way it would. I’ll break.” “Darling, I’ve worked too hard to let you break so easily.” “Take all of my dreams. I let you do whatever you want inside my head, just please, don’t make me take that.” Astaroth brushed her folds and she knew that even if she said anything, she was only delaying the inevitable. She could say anything, come up with a million reasons why she wasn’t able to take him, yet she knew that she was also talking to a demon, who wouldn’t listen to her. She thought about the times she had dreamed of the friendly barista who worked at the coffee shop next to her office, and while those times had felt good, now when she knew what had been behind all that, she was unsure if she should’ve liked that or not. “I have had your dreams. Watched you while you slept, laid and made sure that you had everything you wanted. My darling, you have to know that you don’t just get something when dealing with incubi, the deal goes both ways.” “There was no way I could’ve known.” The tip of his cock rubbed against her entrance, dripping precum that, unlike humans, felt more like lube than liquid she was used to, and she prayed that it would make things come even a little bit less painful. She didn’t know if she was scared, furious, or in a slight panic, because even if she had no control, a small part of her also wanted to feel Astaroth’s length and see if demons would be as tempting as they had portrayed to be. There was no denying that her body was burning, and she had been sent over the edge already, with only his slightest touch, and fighting against that feeling was meaningless. “You seem like there is something in your mind. I can stop and let you think that through if you want.” Astaroth grinned. “Please - just don’t hurt me.” “If you resist, it’s going to hurt.” “I don’t want it to.” She said with a small voice. “I want to feel good. Like in the dreams.” “You’re sweet. Just like I imagined that you would.” In a matter of seconds, he started to push deeper into her, stretching her little by little. Every time he moved, she felt how her body got slightly more used to something way bigger it had needed to previously, and she was glad that at least Astaroth hadn’t forced all of himself to her at once. Focusing on keeping herself together took effort, more than she had imagined, and for a while she didn’t say anything, didn’t even let out a moan or any other noise. She felt how the cock rubbed against her parts, how it pulsed in her, and how the liquid that most likely was precum made the situation more enjoyable than painful to her, partly to her surprise. She looked down, and to her fear saw that there would be a lot more for her to take. Normally, she would be glad with the amount already rubbing her insides, but Astaroth wasn’t like anyone she had been, and she had to fight not to think of the feeling after he would be done. She felt bare under him, even trying to dig her hands into his hair before remembering that her hands were tied to place, unable to move. She was only capable of feeling how she opened and stretched around him, and how the lust and need washed over the fear and anger in her. “Still in your thoughts, huh?” Astaroth said, moving his face close to hers. She didn’t have time to answer that there was only one thing in her mind before she felt how Astaroth’s lips pressed against hers. The stubble rubbed against her cheek, and she closed her eyes, as their lips locked together, and her tongue invading her mouth and swirling around hers. His tongue wasn’t human-like, but longer, with a pointy end and it could easily hit any part of her mouth, yet decided to taste her as their kiss deepened. Focusing on the kiss had made her unable to not fully concentrate on the cock that was tearing her open, and when she felt how it hit deep in her, she let out a moan that broke the kiss between them. He was deep, and not only that, also filling her so she was able to feel him all the way. She was too afraid to look if there would be even more of him, she rather lived with the hope that this was all even if it would be a false sense of hope, rather than seeing that she would’ve only at the half-point. “Like I said, if you relax it would be more pleasant.” Astaroth said in a joyful tone. “You’ve been so good, my love.” She felt how Astaroth lifted her hips upwards, making her gasp. “Now we can really start.” “Wait - what do you mean really start?” Astaroth pulled his cock out slightly before pushing it deep into her, hitting the deepest parts and making her gasp for air as she felt like she would rip to pieces on that very moment. When he had moved slowly, she had had time to adjust, but now when the pace was faster, there was no way she would be able to keep up with him, and she felt how her mind became blurry, and only thing she was able to do was to make sweet little sounds that only made Astaroth even more eager to continue. She didn’t want to feel how she did, and even if she fought against her thoughts, she knew that she was lost. She had been raised to fear anything demonic and sinful, and when people mentioned things of that nature, they were never pleasant or lead to good things. However, now, when she could witness that, she couldn’t help but to wonder where people had gotten their opinions, and if everything she had learned through her life had been a lie, and what would happen if she gave in to her feelings, the hotness of her body, and the lust in her mind. She wasn't a religious person, but something in her brain made her fearful if she would be punished because of what she did, if someone would strike her down and if she was doomed eternally because of this. God was someone she rarely thought of, and definitely not someone she anticipated to think during the act of sin and everything forbidden. “You’re awfully quiet, love.” Astaroth breathed into her ear. “Are you still scared?” “I don’t want to be tormented. Not for eternity.” “Be not afraid.” He said almost in a joyful tone. “The only torment I’m going to make you suffer will be something you will beg me to do.” She felt how her body started to get more sensitive by every second, every time Astaroth moved in her, and how it became increasingly harder not to moan when he did. One part of her wanted to fight back, even in a situation like that, but another one knew that whatever would happen was not in her control, but what she could do was to enjoy it as much as possible. “What if I don’t want to resist?” She panted. “Oh, that’s lovely to hear. Did you come to accept reality this quickly?” “God, why can’t I just wake up.” “No, no god here.” Astaroth sighed. “Don’t say that, I know that I’m better. I want to hear something different from you.” “What -?” Her sentence was cut short when Astaroth pushed to her with a force much greater than previously, and she had no way to hold her gasp back when she did. Although there had been time for her to adjust to his cock, the way he moved made it seem like there had been little to no preparation, and she felt like she was about to burst when he picked up the pace. She gazed at Astaroth, a handsome demon with dark skin and flaming eyes, and lust won over fear, making her move her body to at least somewhat match his pace. The hold of his tail loosened around her wrist, releasing them as he pressed his body against hers, allowing her to dig her nails to the back of his shoulder and wrapping her arms around him. She pressed as close to him as humanly possible, breathing in his scent and letting out moans as she felt how his cock pulsed, making her fear if it would grow even bigger than it already was. “Say that you want me. I want to hear it here, not in your dreams. Say how you want me to make you mine.” “Please - I can’t take much more.” Her voice was merely a whimper. “Say my name.” She gasped for air as he pushed to the deepest parts of her, and she had to focus to keep herself from melting completely away. “Astaroth, please.” Astaroth let out a low growl when he reached his climax, and she felt how a burning liquid flooded her, only for him to keep continuing as she feared of how much she could take. His cum filled her insides, and when his pace finally started to slow down, she was sure that she wouldn’t be able to lift a muscle tomorrow. When he pulled out, the cum leaked from her pussy to her thighs, yet still she knew that there would be much more that was burning her insides. “As I said darling, when dealing with incubi the deal goes both ways. So I hope you don’t think this would be sufficient to match everything I’ve already given to you.” She was too dazed to answer. Too tired to move when he laid next to her, brushing her hair. But when she had begged for him, she knew that she had gotten into something bigger than humanly imaginable. Yet when she closed her eyes, she didn’t think about anything else than at least now she could sleep peacefully, even if it meant that she was bound to an incubus.

#my story #incubus #demon #monster fucker #DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT #third person but basically a reader insert #possesive love

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cljordan-imperium · 1 year

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Happy WBW! ♥️ What's the section of worldbuilding that's your favorite? Feel free to gush about it or share something you've created!

Hi Sweetheart!! <3

Oooh, thank you for asking this question. I may have to come back to it and gush later, but I'll make sure to tag you. I haven't had enough coffee to get the synapses firing completely. I've built a lot of worlds over the years. I may have to go back and look at some I've done to find it. Maybe while I'm on lunch!! Okay, my favorite part? Is painting the picture for the reader. I HATE info dumps. I hate reading them. I LOATHE with every fibre of my entire being writing them. They bore the ever loving fuck out of me. So I prefer, if you haven't noticed, to paint as I go. But I love to have a character walk into a room and describe it as the character is seeing it, especially if they are in awe. OOOH...hold on...I have one that I think I can use for this... we are going to have to put in a break, this babe is gonna be long. *big grin*

This is from the story arc where Abriella (then Gabrielle..long story on the name change) and the other core residents of Imperium went to rescue Talia in the prison realm where Stennis (The Source) had put her. I had so much fun imagining this prison realm, so the world building built in here is one I totally enjoyed. So...hope you can picture this...

As the band of 14 teleported into the center of the tower, all quickly scanned the surroundings. This was a vastly different atmosphere than they’d really expected. The floor was squishy, like walking on a sponge. The walls were some kind of iridescent metal that while the colors changed when your angle of viewing did, there was no reflection. They were cold, ice cold. No one could put their hand on them for more than a minute or so before it began to ache. The air around them was thick feeling, with a smell that most resembled formaldehyde on Earth. It was a wholly unpleasant environment.

The hallways off of the center hub were easy to find. Each one was illuminated in a different color light: purple, blue, and green. No one was quite sure what that meant. All of them had half expected there to be some kind of alarm when they teleported in, but there was nothing. Instead of making them feel reassured, this made them more on edge. It wasn’t clear what that meant, but it was almost assured that it was nothing good.

Mithos cast protective wards over the three who would be hunting. They would give them some protection should they be attacked. No one knew what the inhabitants of this foreign place looked like or their weaponry. For that reason, all of the team had brought many options. This was another reason for the wards, they weren’t sure any of their weapons would be effectual against whoever or whatever they would face. Once the three started making their way cautiously down the hallways, Mithos cast layers of wards over the remaining ten that still formed a circle. All were tense, blades and/or firearms drawn. Mithos’s back was against Brie’s. Adriel was on one side of her, Thinius on the other. Thanases was in front of her, ready to create illusions should the inhabitants of this place eventually show up. While they did not doubt the fighting prowess of their Queen, none were quite sure of her fitness for battle. While Mithos could detect nothing wrong, he knew her powers were still depleted.

As the three made their way down the hallway, they found it often hard to see with the colored lights. They cast weird shadows and distorted the view through what seemed like glass doors into holding cells. It was like some kind of prison. However, no two creatures being held looked the same.

.....

Abbadon was the only one who felt the air change suddenly. Unlike the others, he had experienced life in many realms and realities. A being strait from the Source, he was able to detect life forms that the others could not even dream of existing; and in some case they would be the things of their worst nightmares, even for the demons. “We have incoming. Don’t ask where because I can’t see them either.”

Taking a step back, he lightly bumped into Thinius. As he looked over he raised a brow. With the four males who were surrounding her, he wasn’t sure if Brie would be able to fight. At almost two feet shorter than them, he doubted she could even see anything other than Thanases’s back. Not that he was even going to attempt to disagree with the arrangement,; he was actually relieved that whatever it was that had decided to come see them, it would have a hard time getting to her.

“Ummm…look up…” Arioch’s voice sounded a bit unsure and as everyone looked towards the ceiling, they understood why. Replacing the blackness that had been above them were multitudes of eyes. No faces, no heads, just eyes. The entirety of the ceiling seemed to be covered in them. And it wasn’t just one being, all of them were blinking at different times.

“Well, that gives a new meaning to death from above!” Dez sarcastically quipped. Why had he agreed to come on this mission? Oh yeah, the babe that was at one time his bestie, and who he was working on getting back to that level with.

.....

Okay, so that is the past...now the present...well...future...I love this one too...even if it is shorter...

Told you it was going to be a long post *grins*

“It makes me all warm and fuzzy to watch her stomp on their little egos and turn it all to dust. Then Cruz or one of us gets to blow it all away and watch them wither like a forgotten plant in the corner.” Arioch grinned then chucked then put his hand on the handle to the gilded heavy door that reached all the way to the ceiling of the throne room that he would open in unison with his twin. Raguel’s hand was already on the handle to the one next to him. “1...2...3…”

The brothers stepped back to swing the doors open together in unison, the grins on their faces were a matching pair. They’d practiced this a few thousand times when deities and royalty from various realms had started making appearances. It was almost habit now, but one that they enjoyed.

“King Kellen Cythraul of Uffern and Chancellor Grae Drwg, you have been granted an audience with Queen Abriella Estephania Bethania Engel and King Cruzantheon Alexadre Demetrios Engel. Come forward and state your business.” Lucifer’s voice echoed throughout the Throne Room.

The throne room was elegant. The floor was black marble, the walls a white marble with black veins running through it, and the ceiling a polished hematite that acted almost as a mirror. Crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling, illuminating the room and making all surfaces almost seem to glow with their golden warmth. At one end of the room were three steps up to a platform. In the middle of that platform was Brie’s throne. Elegant and ornately carved black marble that was crafted in a way to fit her perfectly, and she was seated upon it in a gown that was peacock blue. If she were to move it would shift from a brilliant turquoise to a deep purple. It was sleeveless and had a sweetheart neckline before having a full skirt like something out of a princess movie. She hated it, and hated all of the pins that were holding her hair in some complicated updo even more. A tiara of silver, opal, and black diamonds sat upon her head, glinting in the light with every movement. Next to her stood Cruz, clothed in regal finery as well. His crown was black titanium and diamonds. There was no doubt anyone laying eyes upon him that he was a powerful and competent King. At each of the front corners stood one of her grandfathers, slightly behind Lucifer and Div stood the other two Horsemen, Olly and Deacon who were. All four were likewise dressed in regal finery, indicating their station within the realm. Behind her throne stood her entire Royal Guard flanked by Dez and Talon. All of them were dressed equally elegantly, and all were well and obviously armed. They were standing at attention, hands resting on the swords that were sheathed at their waists. It was a grand and imposing picture when viewed through the doors that had just been opened.

SO....sneak peek to when King Kellen of Uffern comes to Imperium. Although, he obviously is not going to be the first Uffernian to visit since Karlen is currently chatting and having coffee with Jean Pierre. So...we'll see how long it takes for Kellen to end up there and how that comes about......I can't give it ALL away.... I love painting the picture. When I do my revisions, I normally end up adding rather than removing. My first drafts are bare bones, and I add the meat until my story is no longer a skeleton, but a beautiful fluffy bunny, or a sparkling, fluttering humming bird.

I hope you enjoyed and this all made sense. I get a little excited about sharing my worldbuilding! <3

#the imperium chronicles #worldbuilding #writeblr #writeblr community #writeblr connect #asks answered #answered ask #my writing

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hospitalterrorizer · 2 months

Text

diary318

8/2-3/24

friday - saturday

listening to jpop right now.

it is meg's album "step" and it's cute. pretty often though sometimes songs on jpop records feel like nothing, until the big ones come. obv there's groups where this is not an issue, other times it's more pronounced, but sometimes the albums w/ peaks and valleys in that way have really special songs lodged in them, or they feel that way by their nature i guess.

i really like the synths on this album... really good to hear stuff like this right now, maybe i should let myself make some more "regular" sounding synths or something... we'll see.

youtube

the art in the album is super cute, her outfits are awesome:

i really love all of these looks... i need some colored tights i think.

and wow, look at this album art for one of her later albums:

i really love this... i do wanna do more weird pattern-y eye-hurty stuff. reminds me a lot of black dice.

it's fun seeing stuff on here circulate w/ tags like "eye strain", all the pleasure of glistening / shimmering / oscillating noise and its spread, i've always liked that kind of intensity where it's kind of asking something of you, as you stare at it, but it's also kind of apathetic to you, it simply is that odd and excessive, at least that's how it feels when i come to it, maybe part of why i like it is something to do with nature documentaries and all the closeup shots of things too detailed and strange, magnifications, patterns made evident, maybe it does make sense, i used to spend so much time looking at bugs which were trying to pattern themselves so animals wouldn't eat them or would ignore them, being able to see them in the noise, or make the noise out of them, and then other animals as well, reptile scales, and then my stepsisters and all the garish stuff they adorned their rooms with. an interesting lineage there in things which are difficult to look at, or people say are difficult to look at but for me they're really nice.

oh videogames too, and crts too probably, sticking my face too close, the white noise, that kinda thing... maybe an early introduction to the impressionists also? the smeary/blurriness, excess of color and stippling, my mom was eager to show me matisse, and then art class when i was in elementary school was similar. gaudiness as a kind of violent eruption, beyond kitsch really, these very odd things, over-vibrant, i didn't know it at the time but it was imparted with a kind of sexuality, i didn't really know what i was seeing for instance in how frida khalo painted but i absorbed it. very odd times. not that the point is that it's special that i like/know this or whatever it's just interesting to get any kinda vision on the lineage there of what makes me able to like this sort of stuff... the beatles even, their album art, when i was a kid that stuff meant a lot to me, their movies too.

anyway, i saw something funny today, someone added my current screenname to rym, hospitalterrorizer, as an artist. it is an artist name too... honestly though it feels less like a project and just a thing i like calling myself. anyway it's just funny, it's someone who i don't know at all i'm pretty sure, i wonder how they found it, and why they decided to put it in there. i suppose it's for the best that it is there cuz it might draw more people to the thing, but we'll see, to be honest i sorta doubt it... but that's just meeee...

now i am listening to john cale's paris 1919, i need to finish this tomorrow, cuz i am sleepy and i need to sleep now basically. my sleep is so fucked up #lol. and i need to get back to reading soon. i just spent all of today working on songs, one of them i need to go in and lower the master send reverb, and the other's got a lot of fun progress made, imo, i got some new plugins which makes things a bit easier on me i think... a lot of really fun distortion sounds in there, excited about having all of that to mess with, to see where it goessss,

so, with that: a song:

youtube

one of the best ever, i think, i really love this one,

and now:

byebye!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

#Youtube

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polskasroka · 3 months

Text

A Distraction | Chapter 4 NSFW (Fic finished)

Here's the last chapter of my MelOdy fic, hope you enjoy!

Pairing: Melinoë/Odysseus

Tags: Older Man/Younger Woman, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Pining, Romance, Eventual Romance, Self-Doubt, Friendship, Friends to Lovers, Spoilers, Written During Hades II (Supergiant Video Game) Early Access, Character Study, mel is a tough gal overall, but she has her weaker moments, Denial of Feelings, Nightmares, Kissing, Eventual Smut, Drunken Flirting, Drunken Kissing, Men Crying, yes it's od who's crying, dragging out the man's traumatic experiences at the end of the fic let's go, no details tho

AO3 link

Or Chapter 4 (7080 words) under Read More

As usual, plans don’t work out as they should. It’s due to Melinoë plunging into her duties, which these days seem to be more consuming than they sometimes appear to her. Who knows, maybe she’s just doing her job or she’s actually unconsciously postponing the plans that she made during her conversation with Aphrodite. It’s not that she’s scared, no. She hasn’t chickened out again. She simply hasn’t engaged in this kind of pastime or bonding for quite a while and it surely won’t be the same as when she was younger.

And it’s a different person that she longs to spend more time alone with. It’s not someone roughly “her age,” at least appearance- and mentality-wise, it’s someone older, more experienced. A somewhat uncharted territory for Melinoë, which she’s more than curious to discover once she has a chance.

But for now – she doesn’t. Melinoë’s currently busy with dealing with Chronos’ nonsense once more, holding Zorephet in her hands, bracing for the attack, knowing that her weapon will grant her a victory.

Melinoë faces the Titan, glaring at him, her mismatched eyes locked with his. His whole attitude us full of impudence, that smugness ever-present on his face and it’s driving Melinoë insane, and she can’t wait to wipe that smug grin off of his maw once again.

“Little one, you’ll have wrinkles if you keep frowning like this,” he says nonchalantly, seated on the throne that does not belong to him.

“Won’t look worse than you, that’s for sure,” Melinoë retorts, smirk pulling on the corners of her lips.

“Humorous. But why waste time for me, knowing that you cannot win, if there’s something waiting for you in Erebus? Why not indulge in that and make this thing easier for us both.” Chronos’ voice becomes distorted at the end of his utterance, sending chills down the Goddess’ spine.

“What…? I thought I’d thrown you out of my head!”

“You have, indeed. But I’ve learnt more than you can imagine.”

Enraged, Melinoë lunges at the Titan. Hatred and fury are her fuel and she and Zorephet are thriving because of that.

This is what pushes her towards the victory tonight. The immense fury and animosity towards Chronos.

She returns to shadow in that state and the grass in her stone circle feels freezing to her legs – there, where they’re not fiery – and hands. Melinoë huffs and puffs as she stands up and, for a moment, she doesn’t know what to do with herself. Glancing behind her, she notices Frinos on his usual spot and also Toula who seems to have decided to spend some time there as well. Melinoë’s anger dissipates immediately and she lets out a breath that she didn’t know she was holding.

It was quite a run.

The Goddess needs some time on her own, though. Preferably at the Cocytus.

Without hesitation, Melinoë thus strolls through her tent and out of it, glad that she doesn’t meet no one on her way to the pier. As soon as she arrives there, she tunes in to the gentle sloshing and splashing of water against the wood and feels herself drifting away. To increase the healing effect of her surroundings, Melinoë lies down on the damp planks of the pier and closes her eyes, disregarding the floor that’s not the most comfortable.

But it doesn’t matter now. Melinoë’s mind begins to float together with the tide and she soon relaxes, breathing evenly, not thinking about anything in particular. She knows that she has plans which she wants to fulfil but there’ll be time for that later. There’ll also be time for more attempts to defeat Chronos or Eris, depending on where the Princess decides to go next. There’ll be time for everything, although there’s also time for nothing in the current climate.

Melinoë even dares to wonder if she’s not overexerting herself again. The last time she did, didn’t end well for her and she’s wiser than to risk it one more time. Not when the stakes are this high. But then – were the stakes with Icarus not high? For young Melinoë, they surely were and they’d be just as high were she to perform the ritual once more. She’s curious if it’d work this time.

She thinks of the positive outcomes. Icarus would be overjoyed. Maybe, he would drop the shyness. Maybe, he’d make a move on Melinoë and they’d continue what they once started and what didn’t last long at all.

She thinks of the negative outcomes. She could obliterate Icarus’ soul. She could harm herself irreversibly. But that’s the worst of the worst. So, maybe…

“You’re gonna slack off like this all day while there’s still a titan to slay?” goes an utterly dissatisfied voice from above Melinoë.

She cracks her eyes open only to see Nemesis’ unhappy face over her.

“Slacking off?” Melinoë narrows her eyes and sits up, staring at Nemesis. “A moment of rest is what I’m having. I deserve it.”

“Do you, now?”

“Do you want me to push things too far? Are you aware of the consequences of–”

“There is no pushing things too far when it comes to Chronos. If you happen to have such inhibitions, know that I do not. I would not hesitate to–”

“I don’t hesitate when I challenge Chronos, Nem,” Melinoë cuts the Chthonic Goddess off. “Never. Don’t question it.”

“As you wish, Princess.”

Melinoë huffs, annoyed, and stands up to properly face Nemesis. She’s towering over Melinoë, true, but it doesn’t scare her. Not anymore.

“I really wish you would stop with this, Nem,” Melinoë speaks a tad more softly now. “We’ve got a lot of problems already, we don’t need such petty disagreements in the Crossroads. Some would feast on that.”

“Eris.”

“For instance, yes. Sadly.”

“That’s her domain. Can’t blame her for that, no matter how irritating she is. Same with me. You can’t blame me for wanting to get to that damned titan and kill him for good. Preferably rip him apart into the smallest pieces possible and throw them all over the Earth.” Nemesis’ tone has grown calmer, yet it still carries that trademark monotonous meanness.

“That’s one thing we do agree on.” Melinoë shrugs. She sighs and adds, “Nem, what is your problem with me? Tell me, please.”

Retribution stays silent for a moment, her piercing eyes never leaving Melinoë’s. The Princess lays her hands on her hips and quirks her eyebrow up in anticipation.

“Don’t mind it that much when you decide to spend your time here. But I don’t like it when you spend it with a mortal. Careful with that one. My brother seems to be all over him like a complete fool but I hope you’re smarter than that. Though, lately, you’ve been proving me wrong.”

“I know what I’m doing, Nem. Thanks for caring… I guess?” Melinoë chuckles nervously, her look softening.

“Whatever. Focus on the task is what I’m saying.”

If Melinoë hears the words “task” or “focus” from Nemesis one more time, she’ll lose it.

“Entertain yourself with the shades however you want. Or with my brother. Or with whoever else you fancy more than you should now.”

“Hey, I…!”

“Don’t get distracted, Princess.”

Melinoë wants to reply but as she opens her mouth, Nemesis has already whipped around and stomped away from the Princess. With a long and exasperated sigh, Melinoë lets her shoulders drop and looks to the floor, searching for answers there.

Nemesis is impossible.

Although a couple of nights have passed since Melinoë’s talk with Aphrodite, she hasn’t forgotten about what she planned to do on that night. After the most recent runs have taken a toll on the Goddess, she’s decided that it’s high time she unwound, lest she should overdo the whole thing and lose a limb or get unnecessarily heavily hurt by Chronos. It’s better to be safe than sorry.

Melinoë reminds herself about a bottle of ambrosia that she’s been carrying around in her purse. She accidentally discovers it while fishing the bag for seeds that she’s gathered in the last journeys both to the Underworld and the Surface. Rubbing the smooth glass with her finger, she glances over her shoulder and knows exactly who she’s going to share the ambrosia with. It seems just perfect for the occasion.

It's sometime later in the day or night that she approaches Odysseus after fumbling with the Arcana Cards at the Altar. Before she walks over to him, though, Melinoë pulls the ambrosia bottle out of her bag and hides it behind her back, so that the tactician doesn’t have a chance to refuse before he’s offered the drink.

Out of the corner of his eye, Odysseus notices Melinoë, marks something on the map on the table in front of him and then he can give the Goddess his undivided attention. Melinoë’s already sporting a mischievous smile on her face, not too skilful at hiding her intentions well when it comes to such situations.

“What is it this time, Goddess?” he asks neutrally, folding his arms.

“Well, would you consider spending some time with me this evening? If you have no other urgent responsibilities, that is,” Melinoë clarifies but her tone’s full of hope.

“Your invitation itself belongs to the category of urgent responsibilities. How could I refuse?” A slight smirk accompanies his warm response.

“Certainly not when I also have this…” Melinoë brings the bottle to the front and holds it before herself. “I thought that this can taste better when shared with someone too. And… drinking it with someone I find dear is a tradition that I’ll gladly observe.” She feels her cheeks flush a faint pink.

“I, erm…” Odysseus collects his thoughts for a bit, dragging his eyes off of the bottle to lock them back with Melinoë’s mismatches irises. “You do flatter me, Goddess, but I don’t think that I’m particularly worthy of the gods’ drink.”

“Are you trying to refuse now?”

“No, I…! I wouldn’t even try! What I’m saying is that…” He pauses for a moment, and then squints at Melinoë. He puts two and two together and chuckles, bringing a more vibrant blush onto Melinoë’s cheeks. “Took me by surprise there, Goddess, I appreciate that. But all those bottles of nectar, baths in the springs and now this… You’re spoiling me.”

“Who else if not you?” Melinoë shrugs innocently, her gaze both playful and seemingly timid.

Melinoë likes to think that she’s managed to embarrass Odysseus there at least to the smallest extent.

“So… Is it alright if we go now?”

“Where to?”

“Same place as the last time?” Melinoë swears she can’t stop smiling.

“The shades are going to be looking at us again. Don’t you mind, Goddess?”

That question is blatantly on purpose. Bastard.

“I never minded, you know that, Od.”

“You got me there.”

And so they’re off to the taverna and their spot from the night they drank nectar there together. As they stroll there, Melinoë wonders if this time it’s going to end similarly to the previous one or if things are going to be pushed further. It may also turn out that nothing too special will happen but the Goddess hopes that it won’t be the case. After all, she can feel her heart skip a beat once in a while now and that can’t go in vain.

Besides, she deserves some fun. She deserves the life of a goddess. She won’t let anyone deny her the pleasures that she could feel entitled to. Of course, Melinoë is not the one to be forcing someone to abide by her will because that sounds much too wrong to her liking. However, it doesn’t mean that she’s going to refuse herself the possibility of a divine-like pastime when she can obtain it in a more mutually respectful way.

And she’s not going to refuse whatever it is that her heart wants. In the long run, it really doesn’t seem to be the right thing. It’s tiring and she’s got other concerns to handle, she doesn’t need more of them. When she has the possibility to manage one of the whole bunch, why not jump at the opportunity?

What’s more, how long can one pursue the same and only aim? Melinoë’s been feeling like a fish in a fishbowl, mindlessly chasing something that’s seeming more and more infeasible with each attempt, since there’s no end to it in sight. It may be that this load of work is getting to her. It may be that the constant focus on her task is a burden that she needs to lift off of her shoulders to be able to continue with any aim that she chooses to follow.

So time passes and although Melinoë’s having a jolly time with Odysseus, there’s the thought of her task lurking in the back of her head. She’d love to get rid of it for at least a moment but it seems to never leave her. At some point, Melinoë focuses on it so much, that she stops listening to what Odysseus is saying. Once he notices that, he pauses his monologue and turns to look at Melinoë, who’s intensely staring at something in front of her.

It's only after a couple of seconds that she gets the hint of something being off, so she shakes her head and faces Odysseus, confusion written all over her face.

“Why did you stop?” she wonders, the genuine surprise makes her look too innocent.

“You weren’t listening to me, were you, Goddess?”

“Oh, no… No, I wasn’t. Sorry, Od. Could you repeat, please?”

“What’s troubling you?” he gets straight to the point, his question serious, leaving no room for Melinoë to escape.

“Ugh…” she sighs, gazing into the shade’s eyes, finding comfort in that kind and understanding look. “It’s about my task. Almost everyone keeps reminding me about it as if I forgot what I’ve been prepared for my whole life. I know I shouldn’t let others’ opinions affect me this much but here I am, I guess.”

Odysseus furrows his brows for a moment and then offers Melinoë a polite and compassionate smile.

“By ‘almost everyone’ you mean Nemesis, right, Goddess?”

“Mostly,” Melinoë sniggers a little.

“Jealous is what she is, it’s as simple as that. It seems that the older you are, the worse at handling her own envy she’s getting. But no matter what she says, you know what you’re like. You know what you’re capable of. You can–”

His words are uplifting, true, but…

“Don’t you start talking about the task and its importance now too or I’ll–”

“I’m not planning to,” he replies quickly and hands Melinoë the bottle of ambrosia from which he drank during the monologue from a moment ago that is long forgotten now.

“Thanks, Od.”

Melinoë smiles and drops her own gaze in embarrassment. She then takes a swig from the bottle and sees how proud Odysseus is of her doing that. After all, they’ve both come here to unwind and it seems that the ambrosia is working better than nectar because they have no interest in the fact whether the shades at the taverna will be talking about them or not.

“Even Headmistress isn’t so monothematic. She seems to understand that I need a moment of rest from time to time.” Melinoë chuckles to herself, staring at the ground next to Odysseus.

“What’s so funny about it?” he asks, amused.

“She also told me to be careful around mortal men,” the Princess replies almost nonchalantly and then raises her head to lock her eyes with Odysseus’ once more.

He looks puzzled but Melinoë is sure that he knows what she’s talking about. Her ambrosia-fuelled confidence proves to be of great help.

“She certainly, erm…” Odysseus clears his throat. “Has her reasons.”

“Rightly so?” Melinoë tilts her head and shifts closer to her companion, planting her hands on the grass in front of Odysseus for stability.

Odysseus’ resolve is so weak right now, that he’s nearly ashamed of himself. It must be because of the ambrosia, since without it, he wouldn’t let himself glance down at Melinoë’s lips every once in a while. She’s so close, that he can feel her breath on his skin and her mismatched eyes have got that mischievous sparkle glinting in them that is hardly resistable.

“Well, why don’t you find out yourself? That’s the most precious experience, after all,” he says, sounding barely affected by the Princess’ proximity. Odysseus counts that as his own personal victory. Still, he knows that Melinoë will make him lose this inner battle of his.

“I’ve found out myself, once. It didn’t end well. Headmistress knows it. So do you.”

“Indeed, I do. But this… this won’t fix anything, so why…?”

“I don’t want to be disappointed again,” Melinoë admits quietly, her voice shaking a little now. She swallows and lays her right hand on Odysseus’ cheek, the usual coolness of a shade’s skin a contrast to her warm fingers. “Will you disappoint me, Odysseus?”

“I won’t, Goddess.”

The low and sincere tone of his melts Melinoë’s heart and she swoons immediately. She lifts her face just a tad, just enough to be able to crash her lips against Odysseus’. She doesn’t hesitate and neither does he.

Melinoë squeezes her eyes shut to relish the moment and drown in it. Inhaling, she cups Odysseus’ face with both of her hands now, seemingly pulling herself even closer to him. Then, the Princess moves on to nipping on Odysseus’ lower lip, making him grab her phantasmal wrist and slide up along it until his hand is placed atop Melinoë’s. A soft sigh comes out from Melinoë’s lungs and she’s surprised with it herself, which has her eyes snap open.

The plain shock on her mien draws a chuckle from Odysseus that brings bright pink onto Melinoë’s cheeks. It all ultimately breaks their kiss but their lips never stop brushing against one another, not even when Melinoë takes her time and scans Odysseus’ eyes and face from this close. She’s greatly enjoying it and the man doesn’t interrupt. Besides, he can’t resist the way Melinoë’s started rubbing his cheekbones with her thumbs only to splay her fingers and kiss Odysseus again.

Her breathing’s clearly picked up the pace and Melinoë is determined in what she’s doing. In fact, she’s so decisive that Odysseus has to lean against his hands so as not to fall onto his back because of the Goddess’ intensity.

It is a bit much for him to process at first, true. But it’s not something he can’t deal with. Quite the contrary – he will handle it with pleasure, no matter how dizzy it makes him feel. Surely, the ambrosia has influenced the sensation but it’s never going to beat the effect that Melinoë has on him.

And it’s not the first time he’s been faced with such a situation. Well, maybe he hasn’t made up with a goddess before but it won’t scare him. It never has. It shouldn’t, at least. Not with Melinoë.

With any possible curses and atrocities aside, Odysseus needs to regain some control, even if it’s by challenging the Goddess a tad and risking things he doesn’t want to think about. Having thought that, the shade wraps one of his arms around Melinoë’s waist and she acts upon it sooner and much more eagerly than expected.

In the blink of an eye, Melinoë’s straddling Odysseus’ lap, smiling to herself and into their kiss that’s only growing more and more heated. Squeezing the Princess’ side slightly, Odysseus has pulled a couple of little whimpers from the Goddess’ throat and made more pink appear on her cheeks, neck and ears.

It’s then his turn to put the kiss into a halt, albeit unwillingly so. The need to just gaze at Melinoë is too strong not to give in to it and Melinoë did a similar thing a moment ago anyway. The Princess doesn’t shy away from his careful look and calmly lays her hands on his broad shoulders.

Odysseus is enamoured with her and it’s as clear as day to Melinoë. It flatters her a lot and she can’t help but grin and Odysseus thinks he’s going to die again and get reborn right there, at the bank of the Cocytus. Her smile is everything to him at this very moment and neither of them cares about how much their attitudes and acts are the result of being drunk on ambrosia.

However, at this point, they can’t be sure how much of it is the drink’s effect. The way they seem to want one another surpasses the wonderful effects of the gods’ brew. Their hearts skip a beat when they spare a second to ponder over that.

“You’re beautiful, Goddess,” Odysseus says, his gaze one with Melinoë’s.

“Thanks, Od.” She doesn’t admit it but she feels a sudden fire ripple through her body. “I’ve been thinking…” Melinoë continues and shrugs oh so innocently that the tactician has to swallow. “Would you like to accompany me to my tent?”

Odysseus has to reconsider everything before he lets himself believe in what he’s just heard. Apart from that, there’s the well-known pull from the inside that quickly finds its way downwards and doesn’t want to be ignored.

“Goddess….” He stops mid-sentence not to let out a pathetic moan as Melinoë deliberately shifts in his lap.

“No, I don’t want to hear nothing about the shades around or Nem–”

“… lead the way.”

Melinoë’s mouth falls open a little before a wide smile lights up her face once again. She then stands up (praise the merciful Fates!) and helps Odysseus do the same. Yet, to him, it looks more like a reason for her to grab his hand and hold it in order to begin her quick and confident stroll to the tent.

While he actually pays attention to whoever they might encounter on their way to the tent, Melinoë couldn’t care less. It’s obvious that she shouldn’t be worried about it, she’s a goddess. And Odysseus? He’s a shade. A shade that hasn’t lost themselves in death and decay but a shade nonetheless.

At that moment of hesitation, even Icarus’ words claiming that shades and goddesses don’t mix make their way into Odysseus’ head. He doesn’t have time to dwell on it, though, for he soon finds himself inside Melinoë’s tent.

She abruptly stops dead in her tracks once there, making Odysseus almost bump into her. She stands still and then says, “Dora? Are you here?”

There’s silence and no one says a word, listening to any sound that the shade could make. After a couple of moments that Melinoë deems enough, she shrugs and turns around, so that Odysseus can see that bright smile of hers again. It brings a genuine, warm smile onto his own lips and he lets Melinoë lead him on until she sits atop the table in the centre of the tent. She then pulls Odysseus closer by his clothes, so that he ends up standing between her legs, his hands on both sides of her thighs, atop the table.

The leverage proves highly useful, since Melinoë momentarily wraps her arms around his neck, so that she can pull herself higher and kiss him again.

And the kiss is different this time. It’s more fiery, passionate. Melinoë opens her mouth to deepen the kiss and Odysseus has no choice but to comply.

He gives her all that he can, there’s no inhibitions in the way he’s returning the kiss. The fact that she’s smiling all the time, something that is broken only by her small gasps, has Odysseus quiver. It’s almost unlike him to react like this, like he never met someone of this import before.

The thought itself almost angers him and he decides to channel it into even more effort. With a low hum from within his chest, Odysseus lays his hand on Melinoë’s thigh, which has her support herself on her palms behind her. She sniggers lightly and her eyes shine as she pecks Odysseus’ lips and then sits a bit more upright.

Curious, Odysseus watches her next moves, her flesh in a firm grip of the man’s that she doesn’t brush away. Instead, she lifts her hands and turns her face to the side a bit, so that Odysseus ends up leaving little kisses on the corner of her lips. He immediately reminds himself about the first time he’d done that and the memory warms his heart. He also almost stops caring about what Melinoë’s doing right in front of him.

Once he realises that, she’s already taken off her gorget and is working on the tie of her dress. She still manages to notice him gape at her and it amuses her greatly. After all, it’s not like he hasn’t seen her naked because he has, back when they spent time in the Hot Spring.

But it was different. Totally different.

On gods, it is different now, although Melinoë’s bare only to her waist. The way Odysseus is looking at her is surely raising her self-esteem but despite that, she still blushes a vivid pink that paints her cheeks, neck and ears. And since that neck is on full display, Odysseus considers it a blasphemy not to lean in and plant kiss after kiss on Melinoë’s skin there.

She lets him do it, giving him more access as she tilts her head to the side, so that he can lick the side of her throat. It sends chills down Melinoë’s spine and her toes curl. A graze of Odysseus’ teeth has her tighten her legs and stick her fiery heels into the spots above the backs of the man’s knees and he hisses at the burn that might not blister but hurts anyway.

“Sorry,” Melinoë says, her hand on his cheek to make him look at her. “Od?”

“Yes, Goddess?”

He’s clinging onto each little word she says and Melinoë can clearly see it and it’s making her feel funny on the inside.

“Take your clothes off.”

Her tone is somewhat serious in all its innocence and it’s like a challenge to Odysseus. Thereby, he shall treat it as one.

With confidence, he stands straight, his chin up, and his usual crooked smirk back in its place. Melinoë averts her gaze for a moment or two and that’s when the shade steals a glance at her slim, naked chest.

Barely any words could describe the beauty that’s there in her youth and life energy, despite her being so strongly tied to the Underworld and its residents. So for now, Odysseus just thinks that Melinoë’s beautiful, while being more than aware of hundreds of words that he could use to depict her and that would not suffice anyhow.

In order to have a better view, Melinoë leans back a bit, propped on her hands against the table, while her eyes are roaming up and down Odysseus’ frame. She watches him swallow, thinking that she’s made him uncomfortable for a second there but the thought’s soon gone when his scarf and cloak get thrown onto the ground.

It’s only a prelude to the full breadth of the shade’s shoulders that the Goddess is yet to see and she’s looking forward to it. Melinoë even lets her mouth hang slightly open as she takes in all the views that Odysseus is revealing to her one article of his clothing at a time.

Although busy with undressing himself, Odysseus does gaze back at Melinoë; sometimes their looks even meet. He then gets rewarded with a radiant smile from the Princess, one that only encourages him to soon stand in front of her in his birthday suit.

Her sparkling stare fills him with pride and so does her open mouth. The Goddess shifts on her spot to get closer to Odysseus, so that her face is level with his chest. Melinoë doesn’t miss the quivering exhale of the man and it raises chills along her spine. Apart from that, the view right before her has her shiver and feel that tightening sensation at the bottom of her belly.

Melinoë then unceremoniously lays her hands on Odysseus’ sides and presses her lips against his sternum. There’s that little hum deep behind his ribs that has Melinoë plant a couple of kisses upwards and then downwards, until she gives the shade’s abs some licks and pecks. Her fingers keep rubbing circles atop Odysseus’ warm (at most!) skin or she moves her palms up and down a bit, and the touch is nearly blistering to him.

And it appears surreal to him as well. The reverence with which Melinoë’s treating him is something he’d never think he’d receive from a goddess. It’s almost too much for him to grasp and Melinoë can clearly see it once she glances up at him and their eyes meet again. She can swear that he blushes a tiny bit and it warms her heart and boosts her ego.

With confidence, the Goddess stands up, hopping off of the table, her thumbs now stroking Odysseus’ stomach. It seems to her that he tries to avert his gaze for a second but she wouldn’t let him do so no matter how hard he tried.

“Are you shy, Od?” Melinoë tilts her head to the side and it’s one of the most adorable things she’s ever done in Odysseus’ eyes.

“Me? Ha! Never, Goddess.” As if to prove his words, he grabs Melinoë’s chin and places his other hand on her waist.

“Good. You’ve no reason to,” she muses, looking at him from under her eyelashes.

“And why is that?” Thinking she’s distracted, his hand slides to her back where he can work on undoing her belt.

“You’re built…” Melinoë says slowly, her fingers and nails tracing the mounds of Odysseus’ abs, travelling upwards over his chest to land on his strong and wide shoulders. “… Like a god.”

That little smirk that Melinoë gifts him with makes him forget his name. Words can’t describe how much he’s attracted to her and he knows that only Penelope could reach this level of sentiment and affection that he’d ever hold for anyone. It terrifies him to some extent, for it’s been a while since someone treated him like this.

“Goddess…” is all he can mutter as he manages to cause Melinoë’s clothes to fall onto the ground and see her fully naked form.

Odysseus pulls Melinoë closer, so that he can kiss her while she’s pushing him backwards until they land on her sleeping mat. The Princess doesn’t miss the opportunity to have the man lie down on it, so that she can straddle his waist, grinning, smoothing her palms over his chest again. She leans in to steal another kiss or two, in the meantime rocking her hips to grind against him whenever she can.

Odysseus’ hands come to her aid in no time when he starts guiding her motion by grabbing her by her hips. The small sigh that it gets him is like honey and he swallows it as soon as Melinoë lets it out.

However fun this little teasing game of theirs may be, Melinoë is done waiting for tonight. So, even though she’s loving the electric sensation that’s springing from all the right places where her skin meets Odysseus’, the Princess decides to take the matters into her hands. As she thinks about it, she sniggers at her own inner wording, hiding her face in Odysseus’ cheek and then neck.

He groans while feeling her breath there and cranes his neck to give Melinoë more access to the sensitive spots there. Melinoë doesn’t waste the chance to give his throat some nibbles and licks, distracting herself from her attempts at ending all the teasing. While doing so, she’s making little moans of excitement and pleasure – something which elicits a couple of grunts from Odysseus as he closes his eyes, handing the control to Melinoë completely.

And she’s not complaining, oh no. She’s enjoying everything that’s unravelling in front of her and underneath her, as well as relishing the way Odysseus’ fingers dig into her flesh once in a while. She can’t have enough of the hisses and groans that he releases when she gifts him with an unsynchronised rub of her body against his.

But it is when she grabs him to finally, finally be able to sit atop him that makes a full moan tumble out of his throat. The way Melinoë’s whimper and gasp accompany it is a music to Odysseus’ ears. He regains some semblance of control for a moment as he holds Melinoë still and then pulls her down until he’s fully sheathed inside of her.

That’s also when Odysseus’ hands land on Melinoë’s cheeks, so that he can cup her face and draw her in for a kiss. With a firm grip on his shoulders, Melinoë achieves her leverage and starts to rock her hips back and forth, slowly, with no rush.

Her breathing’s slightly increased and she catches herself letting her mouth hang open, enabling Odysseus to pull at her lower lip with his teeth.

Sporting a cheeky smile on her face, the Goddess soon pulls away and sits upright, so that she can switch her motion and move up and down. It soon earns her a pair of strong hands grabbing her sides and sliding upwards, right under her breasts. Melinoë pushes her chest out proudly, encouraging Odysseus to roam all over it, and he doesn’t waste this opportunity.

He drags his fingers back down onto her stomach and then waist with just as much reverence as she showed while caressing his torso a while ago. His eyes follow the track of his palms and he swallows, boring a hole somewhere in Melinoë’s belly. Deep in her own fantasy and bliss, the Princess pays it no mind at first. However, after a while of Odysseus nearly lying still all the time, Melinoë slows down her rocking and lays a hand on the shade’s cheek.

“Od… what’s wrong?” she asks ever so softly, brushing the corner of his mouth with her thumb.

“I, erm… nothing, Goddess,” he provides too quickly for Melinoë’s liking. She squints at him as he adds, “my apologies.”

“Nothing to apologise for, you just look…”

“No, Goddess. Not… now,” his voice breaks at the end there and he hates himself for this.

Melinoë sees the discontentment flash across his features and it causes a crease to appear between her eyebrows.

“So there is something, is there not?”

“Later, please,” Odysseus says, his voice shaky once again. At the same time, he hoists himself up, so that he’s also now sat upright, with the new possibility of hiding his face in the crook of Melinoë’s neck. “Is this alright?” he asks, his hands again on Melinoë’s back, feeling her muscles shift as she adjusts to this position.

“Of course.” Melinoë embraces him and holds him close, so that he can freely bury his face under the Princess’ chin and obscure his sorry state from her. “Do you want to stop? Because we can if you’re not–”

“I want to continue. I only…” he mumbles right into Melinoë’s throat and she feels his shuddering breath on her skin.

“I’m not going to curse you, Od,” she promises and kisses the top of his head.

Then, she also notices that he still has his hairband on and she promptly gets rid of it, drawing a small chuckle from him. Melinoë deems it a good sign to go on and resume her motion atop Odysseus’ lap.

While doing so, Melinoë never lets him go and he revels in the proximity of her and the limitless chances to shower her neck and shoulder with kisses and long swipes of his tongue. The way she shivers when he does it has him quiver and the fire in the pit of his stomach burn brightly, dangerously. It spreads all over his body and although he’s a shade, Melinoë can feel something like heat radiating off of him.

It's somewhat cool when compared to her own feverish self but she couldn’t care less. What matters to her is that Odysseus is close and now clearly enjoying himself, letting out low and vibrating hums of satisfaction. Melinoë is proud of herself for making him feel this good and she only ups her game by rotating her hips and returning to the rhythmical motion in turns.

She manages to pull more raw and rumbling sounds from Odysseus, with his fingernails leaving crescent-like marks in the muscle of her back. Her own fingers rake through his hair, scraping his scalp, keeping him impossibly close as his breath’s becoming more and more ragged. The manner in which he’s kissing her is growing sloppier with each move of Melinoë’s body and she can tell by the way his hips are meeting hers that he’s not going to last long from now.

The Princess thinks she’s going to trip over that edge herself once she hears him speak up again.

“You need to slow down, Goddess…”

“Whatever for?” Melinoë asks, although she knows the answer.

“I can’t…” Odysseus manages, his voice strained and raspy. “You’re going to make me…”

“Don’t hold back, sir. Let go.”

Melinoë’s tender and breathy tone and the way she never stops moving is Odysseus’ whole world at the moment. He also thought that her calling him in this particular way was making him feel all fuzzy but when mixed with her being in charge of such an intimate situation between them both, it is an entirely new level of satisfaction for him.

So Odysseus has no reasons to disobey the Princess. With her continuous and only slightly uncoordinated up-and-down, she leads him to his peak and makes him fall over it, relentless and determined. Odysseus groans straight into the column of Melinoë’s neck as he releases the divine tension that’s built up deep in his gut, grazing his teeth against her skin and suckling on it to muffle the more pathetic sounds that he’s producing.

His hands also tighten around Melinoë’s sides, at the level of her ribs, keeping her still. The lack of movement halts her own impending climax but she soon crosses that border as she feels Odysseus finish inside of her. The warmth and fullness both shoot that dizzying sensation throughout her body and right into her brain and she reaches exactly what she’s been chasing with a long and raw moan on her lips.

Melinoë throws her head back, squeezing Odysseus while mumbling his name again and again, her hands tugging on his hair. It elicits yet another low grunt from him as he’s slowly coming off of his high, kissing and licking the spot on the Goddess’ neck that he was sucking a while ago.

A shaky sigh leaves his lungs as Melinoë’s still trembling in his lap and arms, the afterglow embracing her with the waves of white hot pleasure calming down and not reaching the Princess’ fingertips and toes anymore. She curls around Odysseus steady but also shivering form, seemingly becoming one with him for the time being.

She’s so focused on their shared closeness that she just allows him to fall onto his back and lay her next to him, with her hand on his chest and her leg swung over his hip. Melinoë exhales, tired but happy, and looks up at Odysseus’ profile. She furrows her brows and as soon as he notices it, he hides his eyes behind his forearm.

It doesn’t stop Melinoë from kissing away the tears that are rolling down his right cheek. He sniffles as she does that, biting down on his lip not to let out a quiet sob.

After a moment, though, he stops shying away from her and wipes his eyes dry to meet Melinoë’s gaze.

“Knowing you, Goddess, you’re not going to leave it be, are you?” he asks, some sorrow in his allegedly amused tone.

“You know me too well… But then again – how could I leave it be? Something is clearly… very not right.”

“I’ll tell you in due time, I promise.”

“Does this concern… me?”

“Not entirely.”

“Someone else from the Crossroads too?”

“Someone from the outside.”

“Do I know them?”

“You do.” Odysseus quirks up his eyebrow as he sees that Melinoë opens her mouth to keep questioning him. She resigns from doing so and he continues, “in due time, Goddess. This is hardly a moment for such conversations. Let’s enjoy what we have now instead, shall we?”

Melinoë mulls over his words for a second. Her face soon softens and she smiles lightly, bringing a more genuine smile onto Odysseus’ lips as well.

“Mhm.” She nods her head and gives him a little kiss. “Thank you for trusting me.”

“Thank you for not cursing me.”

Odysseus chuckles at that but Melinoë knows that there is some hidden gloom in there somewhere. But she’s not going to pry. Not now at least. There’ll be a better opportunity for that someday.

The idea itself is deeply worrying in her eyes and she’d love to try and solve Odysseus’ problem right here and now but, alas, it’s not possible if he doesn’t tell her what the whole matter is about. She has to brace herself for some waiting and be patient because there’s nothing else that she could do now.

“Don’t dwell on it.”

“Alright.” Melinoë rolls her eyes. “I’ll stop. For now.”

“Good.”

The relief present in Odysseus’ eyes is worth it.

Melinoë loses herself in the serenity she sees in them at the moment. Yet, she jerks in her spot, gasping, when she suddenly hears Dora’s voice and watches her appear at her feet.

“So… Since you two are done now, you’re gonna come and talk to me and the horned guy, Mel? Though as I look at you, it’s gonna take you a while to get yourself back together,” she deadpans, eyeing Melinoë and Odysseus.

“Dora! What…? How…? Have you been here all this time?!”

“Well, you said yourself that you didn’t mind the shades watching you.”

“And how do you know that? Who told you? Other shades heard me?”

“I told her,” Odysseus admits, sporting that stupidly confident grin of his.

“Impossible, the both of you!” Melinoë groans, pressing her face right under his jaw.

#hades 2 #hades 2 fanfic #melinoe #odysseus

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saintobio · 3 years

Text

sincerely yours. (7)

↳ gojou satoru/reader

when a twist of fate led their marriage to the path of a quintessential tragic romance, two past lovers go through another series of experiences on love, heartbreak, identity, illness, and trauma along the road to a happily ever after.

genre. heavy angst, amnesia, modern au, 18+

tags/warnings. mentions of the following (abortion, cheating, suicide, depression, illness, physical abuse, death), smoking, alcohol/intoxication, suggestive smut

notes. 20.3k words hello ?? and it’s a bit angsty maybe. i hope u enjoy and tysm if you’re still here despite my slow updates :’( likes and reblogs will be appreciated! also lmk how u guys feel abt this episode ;)

series masterlist -> episode eight

2 DAYS AGO

Sleep just didn’t exist in Satoru’s vocabulary anymore and it came to a point where none of the sleeping pills still worked as they should. He could barely remember the last time he had been able to rest comfortably, falling into a deep, peaceful slumber without being cannonaded by recurring nightmares that triggered most, if not all, of his traumatic childhood experiences. And since there was an enormous disparity between dreams and reality, Gojou believed that the reason he was losing his mind at the flashback of his memories was because he knew, deep inside him, that he wanted some of it to remain just as a figment of his imagination. Not an actual memory from an unbearable past, but a mere phantasm that held no long term effect on his current relationships. Why, if it would only ruin his life, should he accept the truth behind his sudden flood of memories?

According to Sigmund Freud’s theory on defense mechanisms, a person tends to unconsciously cling to psychological strategies so that they could protect themselves from having unacceptable thoughts or feelings. After a really traumatizing experience, our instinct is to put up a wall and keep ourselves isolated from the external force behind that barrier, which will then allow us to cope with the situation better even if it means distorting our realities to fit what is satisfactory to the human mind.

To make it simple: Gojou’s defense to his depressive flashbacks was to dissociate from the world by sugarcoating the graveness of the matter.

At first, when Satoru recalled the melancholic truth about his life for the past three years, he almost thought that he could actually go insane. Nanami and Miwa took him home that day, and required the presence of his mother to help calm him down while he was on the cusp of self-destruction. He had a breakdown as he screamed and cried about how he was made to believe that his son died, how he was forced to accept that his wife never carried their only child, and how the aforementioned reasons led him to his multiple attempts at committing suicide. It was cruel. He wanted to understand why you did that. He wanted to run to your house and demand an answer as to why you would lie to him like that. He wanted you to go on your knees and beg for his forgiveness. He wanted to destroy you for depriving him of a chance to be there to hear his son’s first word or guide him in his first steps. He wanted to know why you would take all that away from him.

And then he remembered who he was as a person before you made all those ‘selfish’ decisions.

If not for his mother, Nanami, and even Akemi who were with him all night trying to soothe him from the distress that he was going through, he wasn’t sure what he would have said and done if he did face you that night while he was still apoplectic about the return of his most devastating memories.

You see, there is a type of defense mechanism proposed by Sandor Ferenczi that is referred to as the ‘identification with the aggressor’ which—to put it simply—is the act of adopting the behavior of the person who abused them. When Satoru finally cooled off two days after his explosive episode as a volcano, the first thing he did was to visit ‘the aggressor’ that started all of this chaos in his life. The very father who lay still on his bed, forever dormant, living a monotonous and passive existence as though he was only waiting for death.

“Why are you still alive, Dad?” Greeting his father that way after not seeing him for three years should speak a lot about the kind of family dynamics they had. But Satoru was the calmest he had been for the past 48 hours, so the old man was still lucky that he wasn’t on the receiving end of his unfiltered rage. “You must be happy right now, huh? Your fucked up son has a broken family. You probably don’t even know that you have a grandson.”

As he stood next to his father’s bed, he eyed how the only things that were supporting his life were a tank of oxygen and a nasogastric tube. Ironic, wasn’t it? While granted that he had everything, he still couldn’t do anything but just die peacefully. The old man had all the money, status, and power in life, yet none of those were of much help when karma finally arrived to make him pay his dues. The man beat up his wife so much to the point of driving her away, forcing her to abandon a son who was left at the hands of an abusive father. The asshole didn’t just stop there. He also manipulated his son into thinking that he would never be acknowledged as the rightful heir of the Gojou Group if he didn’t fool and marry an innocent woman for the sake of acquiring their company. Satoru had choices in life and he shouldn’t blame his choices on another person when he himself decided on them. However, given that his father was a ruthless, selfish man, there wouldn’t have been an arranged marriage to begin with. There wouldn’t have been a spiteful son whose only way of coping from trauma was by being cold and heartless to the people he identified as the perpetrator of his suffering. If only his father truly loved his family in the beginning, none of this would have happened.

“How do you live each day knowing that your son hates you, Dad?” he asked the quadriplegic man, glaring down at him despite the tears that streamed down on the corner of his father’s eyes. He may not be able to move his limbs or open his mouth, but his eye movements were clear to Satoru that the man was tearful at the sight of his only son. “How do you live without guilt knowing that you physically abused both my mom and I?”

The said mother was on his side, caressing Satoru’s back in a motherly comfort. “It’s okay. You’re gonna be okay.”

Clenching his hands into fists, he wanted to return the violent strikes that his father used to inflict on him. Satoru wanted to leave bruises on his father’s vegetative body to feel that sense of retribution by making him feel the same type of physical, mental, and emotional distress that he had to go through because of him. After all, why should he feel sorry? He had all the right to go ballistic on him. Because of the kind of environment that he grew up in, Satoru himself adopted his father’s behavior and ended up abusing the woman he loved, although not physically, but emotionally.

It was about time that Satoru recognized his own shortcomings. He needed to acknowledge that the things he had done to you couldn’t be easily forgotten. Abuse didn’t just come in a physical form, but also emotionally and psychologically. The scar on his forearm was the perfect exemplification of the effect his actions had on you—of how he lacerated his arm and left a gash on his flesh, but despite the antiseptic gauze that temporarily covered his wounds, the scar would remain with him forever. Although in your case, that same scar was deep in your heart.

But… but… why put Sachiro in the middle of all of this?

You never truly ended up forgiving your husband. That, he could understand. But why did you have to let his son be fatherless for three years? You knew how much Satoru loved your baby when he was still in your womb. You knew how much he would offer his whole life just to nurture you and dote on you. Even if you were angry at him, you didn’t have to stage the termination of your pregnancy.

So… why?

“Satoru,” his mother called for his attention and tried to unclench his balled fist, patting his back and leading him to sit on a nearby couch, “Even if you wanna hit your father, it’s useless. Look at how he’s being punished for his sins. He’s forever paralyzed and unable to do anything but listen to you.”

Looking at his limp father whose eyes still continued to release faint tears, Satoru eventually had to let his anger cease for a moment. His mom was right on that one. What she wasn’t right about was her participation in lying to him about the divorce and the abortion. “You.” He looked up at his mother as those questions dominated his mind. “Why did you make her lie to me about the divorce?”

The woman drew in a deep breath and stood defensively. “We didn’t have much choice. Your doctor said that we should avoid triggering certain memories that could be detrimental to your state of mind,” she tried her best to explain, “We only did it for your sake, my son. You woke up remembering Y/N as your wife, so we couldn’t just tell it straight that you weren’t together anymore. You were very fragile.”

But still… “What about the abortion?” he questioned, finding it hard to swallow the sickening thought. “I nearly killed myself thinking that I lost my child, yet you knew that she kept him? You were aware that she’s been hiding him away from me—”

“No, darling, no. Mom only found out about it on the day of your accident. That’s the reason why you crashed your car because you called me after you knew about it.” His mother approached him in a restless stance, seemingly wanting to clear her name. “My son, listen carefully to me. None of us knew about it except her, her family, and your so-called friend, Ieiri. They all hid it from you. They made us believe that Sachiro never even existed.”

“But why?” Satoru could feel himself being pulled down by the gravitational force of his pain. “I understand that she wanted to run away from me, but why did she have to fake my child’s death? Sachiro’s just a baby. She didn’t have to do that, Mom. I’m never gonna hurt my son.”

They said nothing was more comforting than being in the arms of your mother. Satoru realized how true that statement was when his mom embraced him and tried to pacify his growing ire. “I know. I know you wouldn’t do that,” she reassured, “I know how much you love your son. This is why you shouldn’t let this slide, Satoru. Let Y/N know that she’s not the only victim here.”

Her words made him pull away in discombobulation. “What do you mean?”

“She took your son away from you,” she pointed out as if Satoru should have already known what she meant by it, “She manipulated you into thinking that she had an abortion so you wouldn’t keep holding onto her. She did it out of spite even if she says otherwise. She’s selfish. Do you know how much it devastated me to see you hurting yourself over and over because you were made to believe her lies? I’ve had to wake up each day with this fear in my mind wondering what would happen if I leave you alone by yourself. I’ve even had to isolate you from everyone just to make sure that you can focus on healing on your own!”

Satoru was silenced on his seat, about six feet apart from his father’s bed. Surely, the old man could hear everything and he was even closing his eyes as though his son’s life was too pitiful for him. “I didn’t think Y/N would do something like this…” said your ex-husband, meeting his mom’s eyes once more. “I just don’t think she’d do this. Even if I gave her enough reason, she’s not the type of person who—”

“You underestimated her,” she countered, “Satoru, you have to accept the sad truth. Y/N isn’t as perfect as you think she is. She’s just as flawed as you. She took three years of your son’s life away from you. Do you understand that? You can’t let this one go. Don’t try to palliate her actions by saying you did worse.”

Then, what should he do? He was barely even processing the miscellany of his tragic fate. His mind was in turmoil. His heart was torn in shreds. A heavy sigh was expected to escape out of his lips as he thought the situation through. “How do I deal with this, Mom?”

Unlike him, she was resolute in her decision as though she had been waiting for this day. “File for a custody case.” The advice came from the same mother who once abandoned him. “Japan only grants full custody, so you have all the right to take Sachiro away from her, too.”

The moment you had been dreading for was here.

With only a single paper and a few words, Satoru Gojou had yet again managed to annihilate your whole world.

You told yourself that you were ready for this. That you were prepared for the day when his memories would come back. That you wouldn’t be shaken once he brings up the fact that you kept Sachiro’s existence from him all this time. You already visualized those scenes in your mind and calculated what things you were going to say or what actions you were going to take—everything was thoroughly considered for your advantage because you were aware that the return of his memories would have a massive blow on your situation as a divorced couple with an only child.

And yet, after reading the entire document of his plea for full custody, you didn’t think that Satoru could still pulverize every inch of you into minuscule fragments. Aside from filing a criminal complaint against you for lying about the abortion, he had also requested for your complete exclusion in receiving any inherent rights towards your son. Your son. Your only son. The son you carried for nine months while you were on the median between life and death. The son you raised alone in a foreign city while juggling between your career and maternal responsibilities. The son who—despite not having seen his father since the day he was born��was still very welcoming of him because you never truly excluded Satoru from the picture.

You did believe in karma, but how come you were always receiving the bad and never the good?

“Y/N, it’s gonna be okay,” Ian reassured after having read the full document. Your hands were shaking, fingers twitching spastically as they sought out anything that they could hold onto. The pain in your chest was so excruciating that you wanted to just faint in order to stop the unwanted sensation. However, for your brother-in-law who was clearly concerned about your growing anxiety, he was doing his best to appease your sensitive emotions. “It’s okay. I’m gonna investigate this document and I’ll get you the best lawyers from the firm. You’re still at an advantage, Y/N.”

“That’s not the point!” you cried, chest heaving from your oncoming surge of tears. The point was, you fooled yourself into thinking that maybe Satoru would understand. You deluded yourself into believing that Satoru’s unfeigned love for you was enough that he would rather talk it out first instead of slapping a custody paper on your face. How wrong could you be? “I gotta go talk to him. H-He can’t do this to me… He can’t destroy me like this all over again…”

“Y/N, that’s not a good idea—”

Your mind was running just as fast as your legs were. Despite your unstable breathing and arrhythmic heartbeat, you ignored every other feeling except for the strong impulse to confront the spiteful father of your child about the war he was declaring between you both. It didn’t matter how distraught you looked nor how scandalous it would be for you to even have the guts to face him. It didn’t matter if tears were filling your eyes nor if your lips had become the same color as your skin. You looked desperate, but for your son, you would do anything.

Sachiro was all on your mind when you drove through the freeway at 100 mph. His innocent smile was all on your mind when you swerved through the lane and overtook cars on a busy road. Your baby’s cheerful blue eyes were all on your mind when you finally arrived at the central business district after receiving confirmation from Miwa that her boss was in his office today.

Among the curious gazes of his employees when you entered the lobby, it was mostly the receptionists who were particularly taken aback by your sudden appearance, going as far as ordering the security team to stop you from dashing towards the express elevator at your freewill. “Miss, I’m sorry but Mr. Gojou doesn’t accept visitors at the moment,” one of them said, shoving your lack of privilege in their boss’ company building now, “He’s pretty strict about this. You have to set a schedule with him first.”

“Don’t you know who I am?” you asked through gritted teeth, “If you do, then I suggest you back off or else you and I are gonna have a problem.”

“But Ms. L/N, wait!”

You weren’t intending to cause a scene, but there was barely enough room in your system to store all of your remaining patience while you were potentially about to lose your rights over your son. They could call you crazy however they want. They could label you dramatic for your desperation to speak to your ex-husband. They could gossip about how you had the audacity to barge into their chairman’s office during business hours without prior notice. They could even claim that you were using your name and status to bypass their security measures. The fact here was; none of them truly knew the real reason why you were in the c-suite floor of the Gojou Group, stomping through the corridors and ignoring all the staff who tried to call for your name. You were far too fixated on your purpose that everyone else was blurred out in the background—everyone except the man you once exchanged vows with.

And there he was, moving away from his desk as soon as you stepped a foot into his office. There he was—the contemptuous ex-husband who could destroy your entire life even if he had to exhaust all of his resources—ridding himself of his paperworks and standing a few meters away while his electric blue eyes studied the animosity in your countenance. He had his hands inside his pockets, keeping an austere mien with the backdrop of slate gray skies behind him. Wasn’t it funny? This office was where it both started and would probably end; where you two created Sachiro and where you two would fight over the sole custody of him.

“Close the door and leave us be,” was the solemn order he said to Miwa so that no prying ears would be able to hear what words would soon be exchanged between Japan’s most controversial divorcé and divorcée. “What are you doing here?”

As soon as his secretary shut the door, you dropped your poise and truly lost it. You were losing it. All of your trauma, your fears, your repressed feelings, and your vulnerabilities were all coming out as if you were vomiting words and emotions along with your tears. They were pouring out of you like water would on a shattered glass bottle. It was your fear of losing your son that made you reach your breaking point, tearing you asunder as you imagined what your life would become if he did take your son away. Perhaps this was the very reaction he wanted out of you.

“How could you do this to me?!” Maybe it was because you were overwhelmed by the tide of negative emotions, but you were already hysterical by the time you slammed your feeble limbs on his chest, completely in despair as he looked at you in agonizing silence. “H-How can you do this, Satoru? I’d rather y-you hate me, hurt me, or yell at me like you always did, but this…” Your voice weakened just as your body did. “Why are you doing this?”

He responded to your breakdown by presenting a businesslike mien. “What are you crying about?”

“Don’t be cruel!” you raised your voice and pushed him off. Your body grew so tense to the point of shaking—your breathing became ragged, your movements were frenzied. As for him, all he did was stare at your glistening eyes in confusion. “You have no right to do this to me! You m-made me suffer enough while we were married, and now you… you… I hate you!”

“Y/N—”

“You’re so heartless, Satoru. Y-You’re so damn heartless!”

“Y/N, listen—”

“Just hate me all you want, b-but don’t take my son away from me!” you wailed; your vision blurring due to the accumulation of tears in your eyes, “Do you want me to beg on my knees like you did? I-Is that it? I’ll do it for my son, just please… I’m sorry for hiding him. I’m sorry for lying about the abortion. I’m sorry I-I didn’t give you a chance to be a father. If you’re mad at me, just focus on me! Don’t take my son away, Satoru. I… I don’t know what I’d do without him.”

You couldn’t understand why the father of your child was looking at you like he was the one hurting inside. You could see him softening his gaze as he placed his hands on both sides of your shoulders, keeping you steady while he attempted to lock eyes with you. “Calm down first,” he advised, measuring the despondency on your visage, “Make me understand what you mean.”

“What do you…?” How ridiculous! After taking a deep inhale to gather your last string of patience together, you wiped your dampened cheeks and shoved the document to his chest. “You sent me this! Stop fooling around!”

Satoru didn’t waste a second before he opened the document and scanned the noxious words written on the paper. You, too, were just as confused when you watched the way his eyes read through the file, how his lips were curling into a frown, and how his eyebrows were furrowed in complete bewilderment. “How’d you get a copy of this?”

Was he acting?

“You sent it.” You shot him a glare—the heavy rise and fall of your chest finally steadying. “What are you talking about?”

“Fuck.” He crumpled the paper in his hands and consequently closed his eyes in frustration. “It was my mom.”

Uncertainty bathed your face, but you had to hold your breath and retain your composure. “You wrote it.”

“I did,” he admitted straightforwardly, walking to the bin and tossing the paper into it. By the time he turned around and leaned against his desk, his face was clouded with regret. “My mom was insisting on the custody claim while I was at the height of my anger, so I drafted that to release my rage, but I was never going to send it to the court.” He stopped for a moment only to let out an exasperated sigh, simultaneous to how he also massaged the frown lines on his glabella. “I told her I wasn’t gonna push through with it. She might’ve sent that to you out of spite.”

“Satoru Gojou.” You scoffed in utter disbelief. “You really expect me to believe that? After you recovered your memories of me—of us, you expect me to believe that you were rational enough not to send it? Do you also remember how many times you hurt me while you were blinded by rage?”

Your ex-husband avoided your eyes. “You don’t have to believe me,” claimed he, “But if I was truly going to file a claim, I wouldn’t have the time to explain all this to you.”

Regardless of the point he had raised, you didn’t let your guard down. “You could be lying. You could be manipulating me right now. I know you wanna destroy me. That’s what you’re good at—”

“Y/N, I know what it’s like to grow up without a mother!” Gojou took slow, but measured strides towards you. His stance wasn't threatening nor defensive, but more so a plea to understand his side of the story. “I was disgusted at myself that I even considered writing that custody letter, because how could I? No matter how angry I am with you, I still can’t stomach the thought of letting Sachiro live without his mother.” He must have noticed how the hostility in your eyes was replaced by the slightest hint of sympathy, especially the moment he mentioned his long standing issue about his mother’s absence. You hated to admit that what Satoru was saying did make sense and he was more likely not to let Sachiro be traumatized the same way he was, but part of you just couldn’t trust him anymore. Part of you was doubting his sincerity and all of the possible lies between his words as you listened to his explanations. “Y/N, I’m still so angry with you for hiding Sachiro, but how exactly could filing a custody case help me? I lost my memories and my doctor says I should still be recuperating, so why would the court grant me full parental responsibility when I’m clearly unfit to care for my child?”

You silently inhaled and took in enough air to fill your lungs. “I just don’t believe you’d have all the time to consider this and think it through. You used to always tell me that I’ll pay for the repercussions.”

“I used to,” he agreed, “But I learned how fucking cruel I was. I learned it the hard way after I lost you.”

Before the topic could touch another painful subject, you decided to present a rigid façade and redirected the conversation back to your son. “So, what do you plan to do?”

Satoru made way towards the ceiling-to-floor window and let his unhappy eyes stare at the Tokyo cityscape. For a moment, there was silence. It wasn’t antagonistic nor was it filled with an air of estrangement. It was more of a silence full of heartaches and internal battles until he eventually gathered his emotions back together. “First, I wanna know why you lied about the abortion,” his voice broke in the middle of the sentence, but he refused to let you see the heartbreak on his face as he recalled certain memories in his head, “I was screaming in that hospital, you know? I’m not sure if you heard it, but I felt like I was the one dying when they told me that you wanted to have our baby taken out. I felt like… I felt like I was being killed over and over again thinking about how I was the reason our baby wasn’t given the chance to live.”

You felt a deep ache in your bones because you did remember how he screamed outside of the door, crying and begging for you not to ‘kill his baby’. You remembered how you endured hearing his breakdown and how everyone was insensitively asking for him to leave and get over it. How it was his fault. Or how he should have seen it coming. The memory brought an awful clutch in your chest knowing that the time had finally come where you two were now unfolding the truth behind that cold December night. In your guilt, you explained your side as calmly and as apologetically as you could. “You wouldn’t let me leave if you knew that I kept our baby,” you began, “You would’ve wanted to stay by my side and be constantly next to me because the baby keeps us connected. At the time, I was desperate to just be away from you even for some time.” Knowing that your words might hurt him, you allowed him to digest the information before you continued to speak. “I wasn’t planning to drag that lie for three years. I wanted to tell you the truth after a year, at least until I’ve managed to get back on my own feet, but I didn’t know how to approach you. I was scared to meet you again.”

“Okay…” he easily accepted your reasoning while swallowing his weakness inside. You could see it in his eyes that he wanted to say more, prove you wrong, and let you know that your decision was still not morally right despite all the factors that drove you to do it. However, it was also obvious that Satoru was protecting something—whether it was his heart or his sanity—he decided that it may be best to just accept your rationale. And by doing that, he had to forgive you. “That’s all I really wanted to understand.”

But could this be real? Could Satoru really have enough heart to forgive you easily like this? Because you were profoundly ridden by guilt, you tried to explain more. “I-I didn’t know that you’ve become suicidal after I left or that you’ve had to isolate and see a therapist because of all the trauma that you acquired. I really just… I’m sorry. I’m sorry, Gojou. I didn’t mean all of that, I just—”

“You just wanted to escape,” he finished the sentence for you and turned around with a small, but forlorn smile on his lips, “What I went through isn’t your fault. I don’t think I can blame that on you. I was the one who led you to that choice.”

You exhaled softly, feeling the extensive distance between you both despite standing only two feet apart. “In spite of that, I’ve let Sachiro know who you are. Even if I raised him alone in New York, I still made sure he knows who his father is and I gave an excuse as to why you aren’t with us at the time. I’ve always told Sachi how much you love him.”

Your ex-husband cleared his throat and restrained all other painful emotions from coming out. “Did you have a hard time giving birth to him?”

“Yes, but he was a healthy baby,” you answered, watching tears glossing over Satoru’s eyes, “He actually didn’t cry much when I first held him in my arms.”

His crestfallen face was screaming ‘I could have been there’ and ‘I could have held him’, but he was more focused on keeping himself collected in front of you. What a true businessman he was; despite identifying a capital loss right before his eyes, he was still keeping it all together in order to delegate an action plan. It no longer surprised you that your ex-husband was applying the same logic to his personal relationships. “Let’s settle on a schedule,” he offered, “How do you feel about co-parenting?”

What was unbelievable about this was the fact that he was the first one to offer it. Or actually, it was more unbelievable that your conversation didn’t lead to a custody case like you initially expected. “More than happy,” was your immediate response, “Like I said, I wanna be fair to you. You can see him anytime. Just let me know.”

“I’ll have Miwa check my schedule and see if that’s okay with you.” You could sense that Satoru was putting enough effort to conceal the pain in his voice. “And I’m sorry about my mom. Just ignore the document you received today. I’ll have a talk with her about it.”

“Okay…”

“Then…”

“If we’re done here,” you insisted, preparing to leave, “I’ll go. I appreciate that you’ve been cooperative.”

So, that was it? Your efforts in coming here were worth it after all. The misunderstanding behind the custody case was all cleared out. The explanations regarding your decision to hide Sachiro were finally out in the open. The resolution to co-parent healthily was now settled. But why did it feel like there was a catch in all of this? Why did your heart feel empty as did his?

“Y/N, wait…”

There, there was definitely a catch. However, you were still walking away when he called for your name, daring not to look back as you grabbed the door handle. You didn’t want to hear him take his words back. You refused to hear him say that he was just testing you and that he was still hellbent on claiming sole custody of Sachiro. Yet just before you could twist the knob, a prickling sensation shot up your spine when you heard the next words coming out of your ex-husband’s mouth. Contrary to your assumptions, it wasn’t about Sachiro nor was it about anything concerning his parental rights. It was about you.

“I love you.”

Your stomach contracted into a tight ball. “...Satoru.”

And as you turned around to look at him, he was already heading towards you with the most heartrending expression you had ever seen on his face. It exceeded the miserable state he was in when you first announced the divorce on the Gojou Group’s anniversary. It surpassed the despair in his eyes when you met him on the day of your wedding with Toji. His visage was a mixture of yearning, regret, and dejection—something that was expected of an ex-husband whose memories of the divorce were still fresh on his mind.

But what was more pitiful now was how he swallowed his pride to beg for something that he shouldn’t. “Please take me back.”

“Satoru,” you mumbled inaudibly as he had his arms wrapped around you, embracing your frame with no willingness to let go, “Satoru, stop. We’re divorced.”

You felt his tears dampening your blouse after he buried his face into your shoulder. “Please forgive me, Y/N.” The desperation in his voice made you crumble inside. “I’m sorry for everything I did to you when we were married. For lying, for cheating on you, for spouting hurtful words that you didn’t deserve, for putting you through so much pain to the point where you had no other choice but escape. There’s nothing I can do to erase the things I did to you and I’ll regret it for the rest of my life.” He tightened his hug around your body and pressed his forehead against yours. Only then did you see the loneliest blues that made up his eyes. “It d-doesn’t matter to me now that you lied about the abortion and that you hid my son for three years. I-I’ll turn a blind eye on all of it, just please… Please come back to me. Our home feels so empty without you.”

Seeing how Gojou was a complete emotional mess to you right now, you suddenly forgot what your expectations were when you decided to barge in his office and confront him about his appeal for custody. Frankly, you thought that the conversation would end up becoming so intense that you would have an explosive exchange of words, yelling at each other about who was hurting more than who, and slamming whatever breakable things could help release the rage you had for one another. You expected that he would even ask his bodyguards to drag you away, telling you that you were trespassing his property since you were no longer his wife. The old Satoru you knew would have spitefully and unforgivably demonized you for your mistakes, inflicted pain on you with his piercing words, and have you drown yourself in anguish as you deserved.

You didn’t expect that the conversation would turn out like this at all—where he was crying in front of you instead of yelling, where he was begging for you to take him back instead of calling you out for leaving him without a word. No, this was not what you expected and you were practically speechless as you pulled yourself away from him.

“We can’t,” you reiterated earnestly, “I’m with Toji now.”

Gojou swallowed his pride and wiped his eyes. “I know. You don’t have to break up with him,” he insisted, “You can keep seeing him behind my back and I won’t get mad at you for it. Hurt me like I hurt you.”

“Satoru, I—”

“As long as our family can be together again, that’s enough for me. Please.”

Instead of giving in, all that you could give was a sigh. It was absurd, if you were being real. The man who broke you was right here offering himself to be broken the same you did. He was here giving you a go signal to cheat on him so long as you would accept him back into your life. He was here doing everything he could to bring his family back together. If you were still ‘you’ back when you were his altruistic, submissive wife, you would have said yes. You would have hugged him and told him that you would let him in your heart again.

But things had changed just as you did, too.

And while you kept that in mind, you also recalled the recent things Gen had told you.

‘This is exactly why you can’t live with Satoru! You’re so fucking spineless! You have no backbone when it comes to him!’

‘You need to stand up for yourself instead of letting Gojou have this much influence on your life!’

Wrong. She was wrong, because as you stood in front of Satoru who was offering his whole world just to make you a part of his again, your choice was the opposite of what they all thought about you.

“I’m sorry,” you said to your ex-husband, gripping his wrists and pulling them away from your body. “We already agreed to co-parent, Satoru. Let’s just stick with that. You and I, we need to start living separate lives.”

Nothing but pain masked his face. “It’s because of Toji, huh? Is it because you love him?”

You looked away. “I do. I love him,” you professed, being reminded of the argument you had with Toji a few nights ago. This was the perfect opportunity to establish your past and present, with Toji being the present and Satoru being the past. You only had one choice among the two.. “He’s everything to me and I want my future to be with him.”

The reason why you couldn’t even have the courage to peek at Satoru’s face was because you knew, just by his voice alone, that he was falling apart. “Are you happy?”

I’m sorry, Satoru. “Without you, I will be.”

Gojou had to place a hand against the wall to support the surge of pain that was eating him away. He was holding onto that concrete wall as if it would collapse because you bulldozed his heart without so much of a warning. Did he expect that you would say otherwise? After everything, maybe he did have hope that you could still be together in the end. He may still be hoping that the two of you could love again. He was still holding onto you because he had no one else to hold onto. The only possible way for him to accept reality was for you to let him go.

“Satoru, let’s move on,” you said, voice quivering in the middle of your sentence, “I hope you’ll meet someone new. Someone you’ll love and respect. Someone you can protect and comfort. Someone you will cherish and value for the rest of your life.” You hid the drumbeat of pain inside your chest. “That person isn’t me anymore.”

This was the closure you both needed—something that you didn’t get to have three years ago.

And while it seemed that it took a few seconds, minutes, hours, days, and forever in his head to accept the outcome of your failed marriage, at the end of it all, he had to respect your decision.

“Okay,” he somberly answered, turning away and gesturing towards the door, “You can leave.”

After paying a quick visit to his mom in jail, Yuuta’s next destination was to the Gojou Group to let his stepbrother know that he would be flying back to America soon. It might take several months before he comes home again, so it was best for him to see everyone just before he would leave. He wasn’t sure if he could even return home during the holidays because he would be too busy in his last academic year in Harvard and he had to put 100% of his focus into his studies. As much as it was grueling to hear, all of his efforts were building up to a more rewarding future, and that was to run a multinational conglomerate alongside his stepbrother.

On the other hand, maybe he wasn’t really in luck today. He was curious to see why there was such a commotion in the lobby when he came to the office this morning, and just imagine his surprise when he saw you arguing with the employees and flouncing towards the elevator while telling the bodyguards that you had to speak with your ex-husband. The unusual pugnacity in your stance made Yuuta step back and decide that it might not be good for him to barge in and see the chairman. Whatever it was that you had to talk to Satoru about, it must be of serious concern because it wasn’t in your nature to show even the slightest bit of aggression in your mien.

So that was how he found himself heading straight to the airport with Miwa who was kind enough to see him off as she promised. Although she still had four hours left at work, Nanami allowed her to leave early since Satoru was still too preoccupied with his marital predicament, which means that the chairman would most likely spend the rest of the day focusing on how to resolve his issues with you.

“I can’t even say goodbye to nii-san,” said Yuuta, carrying a shearling jacket over his left arm while holding his passport and boarding ticket with his right hand. They were strolling through the waiting area as he and Miwa made their way to the first class lounge. “Please give me an update about him whenever you can.”

For some reason, his stepbrother’s secretary had been silent throughout the drive to the airport. He could even count the very limited number of eye-to-eye contacts that they have had. And even as she talked, she was doing her best to look away. “Don’t worry too much, Yuuta-kun. We’ll make sure to look after him.”

“I know you will.” He offered a smile and led her inside the lounge. “I just hope whatever it is that he’s going through with Y/N-san, they’ll still find a way to reconcile. If not for themselves, then at least for Sachiro.”

Miwa held back a sigh, but slumped her shoulders nonetheless. “Did you get to see Sachi yesterday?”

He responded by shaking his head. “No, sadly. I might piss off nee-chan’s family if I dared to visit their mansion. They consider me a Gojou, you know.”

“I guess that’s true. They also have a bad history with your mom.”

“Everyone hates my mom. That’s understandable.” Yuuta found his spot on one of the leather sofas inside the luxurious facility where the symphonious orchestrations of classical music was playing from a distance, providing a very upscale experience for its more-privileged passengers. Remembering Nanami’s words in mind, all he needed was a glass of Chardonnay to feel like a wealthy executive on a business trip. The thought of it made him laugh. “I don’t think I’m really cut out for this.”

The blue-haired girl sat quite a distance away from him as she replied. “For what?”

He moved his index finger in a circular motion, referring to the whole place itself. “This. The fancy lifestyle and all the exclusive perks that came with it. It still feels weird to me, surprisingly,” he opened up, leaning his nape on the headrest and tilting his face towards Miwa. “I wasn’t born from old money, so I experienced what it’s like to fly coach or to sleep on a gang chair waiting for my flight. But for affluent heirs and heiresses like Satoru Gojou or Y/N L/N, this kind of extravagant lifestyle is what's been ‘normal’ to them since they were children, you know? They even have the choice to fly on their own private jet. I think that’s what my mom tried so hard to achieve—erasing the part of her that identifies with the middle class and completely molding herself into this rich person who has never had a taste of hardship in life. She despises the fact that she wasn’t born into a powerful and wealthy family.”

“I’m more surprised that you didn’t acquire the kind of mindset that your mom has,” the girl admitted, almost sounding like she was amazed, “You kept yourself grounded even when you’ve been living rich since you’ve been with the Gojous.”

Yuuta smiled and observed how Miwa suddenly seemed drawn to the conversation. “Maybe because I’m not a materialistic person in general,” he supposed, “Mom thinks money can buy her happiness. I’ve always been distasteful of that logic.”

Miwa took her time to consider the thought before she gave her two cents in. “Well, your mom kinda has a point, too. Having enough money means you have more access to specific resources that not a lot of people can afford like education, healthcare, housing. If I had enough money, I probably wouldn't be dedicating twelve hours a day working for a busy person like Chairman, but I have to do it because my siblings depend on me.”

“Yeah, that makes sense. I admire you for that,” he responded, sending the girl a tender gaze. “I told you this before, but I really, really do think that you’re one of the most hardworking people I’ve ever met, Miwa-chan.”

Whether she was shy or she was simply feeling awkward around him, Miwa still couldn’t let her eyes meet Yuuta’s. Instead, she was looking down at her lap while plastering a small smile. “I think Yuuta-kun is hardworking, too.”

In some days, he could say that he was. “It’s nice to talk to someone who also didn’t come from old money. It gets suffocating at some point, but I feel like I can breathe properly around you.”

His statement sparked the sudden curiosity on her face. “What about Maki-san? Does she not…”

In fact, Yuuta was just checking her phone to see if Maki had replied to his text message, only to be disappointed that his girlfriend hadn't even read the text. She must truly be busy with all of the obligatory family affairs that she had to attend to. “Maki is a Zen’in. I think her family name alone speaks for itself.” He chuckled lightly. “Of course, she’s not pressuring me or whatever, but their family pride makes me feel small sometimes. I always wonder if they’ll accept me or if I’m good enough for her or if I can guarantee my own success without trailing behind her. It’s a constant battle of self-doubt and insecurity that I often hide from her.”

Miwa nodded after having a better perspective regarding Maki and Yuuta’s relationship. “I’m more than sure that they’ll like you for who you are.”

“You really think so?” Yuuta lightly asked, pinching her nose.

Her cheeks were soon limned with a pink tint. “...You have nothing to be insecure about. I think you belong with them as much as you’re doubting yourself.”

While it was considerably unusual in this society for men to be openly insecure, Yuuta still believed that he had all the right reasons to feel so. Not only because of his upbringing, but also because he never truly felt like he could fit in anywhere. People would say he was too rich to be with the middle class, but those in the higher society would say that he didn’t originally belong to the upper class. This was an on-going issue that he had to face ever since he was adopted by the Gojou family, and only since he started living in America did he feel his own independence.

What would things be like if he had just decided to never come back to Japan?

“Good afternoon, passengers. This is the pre-boarding announcement for flight 372A to Boston. We are now inviting passengers to begin boarding at this time. Please have your boarding pass and identification ready. Thank you.”

At the announcement of his flight, Yuuta got up and turned to his companion with a bittersweet gaze, wondering to himself when he would be able to see her again. “Miwa-chan, looks like I gotta go. Let’s keep in touch.”

She nodded just as fast, but kept her downcast eyes on the floor. “Please take care.”

“Don’t be sad,” he teased, poking the puff of her cheek with his index finger. “You’re gonna be my secretary when I come back.”

With a little less than ten minutes left to board the plane, Yuuta offered his friend a salute while watching how she was standing completely frozen on her spot. Her eyes were speaking a million words, but her mouth refused to say even a simple goodbye. Perhaps, for someone sentimental like her, there should be no goodbyes. Only ‘see you later’ or ‘until we meet again’. Even though it may take another 6 months, 10 months, or even a year or two—Yuuta knew that some way and somehow, he would be able to find her.

For now, it was time to leave this place.

And when he comes back, he hoped that his mother would finally be remorseful of her actions. He hoped that his stepbrother would be able to sort out his failed marriage. He hoped that Maki would still accept him in her life even though the distance may drive them apart. He hoped that… he hoped that…

“Yuuta-kun!”

He was already halfway through the gate when Miwa called for his name. The nervous stretch of her eyes and the small parting of her lips suggested that she was about to spill the thing that had been burdening her mind ever since he came back to Japan.

“I like you,” she confessed, leaving Yuuta stunned and speechless, “I’ve liked you for years now, but I never had the courage to tell you because you’re out of my league. All the little moments we’ve had, all the times we talked over video calls and late night chats—all of those may be insignificant to you, but I want you to know that those memories mean so much more to someone like me. You’re an incredible person and you’re such a positive influence to the people around you. I admire your humility, kindness, and optimism a lot and I hope that you’ll never, ever doubt yourself.”

Yuuta couldn’t move. “Miwa…”

“This is the final boarding call for passenger Yuuta Okkotsu booked on flight 372A to Boston. Please proceed to gate 3 immediately. The final checks are being completed and the captain will order for the doors of the aircraft to close in approximately five minutes time. Thank you.”

Miwa’s eyes glimmered. “I’m only telling you this so that I can get it off my chest,” she added before giving a full 90 degree bow, “I want to set myself free from the feelings I have for you, so… Thank you for everything, Yuuta-kun. I wish you the best with your life in Harvard and your relationship with Maki-san.”

Coming home after the emotional exchange that you had with Gojou was worse than the encounter itself because all eyes were on you from the moment you returned to the family mansion, with most of them gauging the depth of your feelings closely, possibly wondering what had occurred between you and your ex-husband when you dramatically stormed into his office. Gen didn’t have to speak her mind. You could already hear the questions inside her head without her having to vocalize them. It was either ‘did you get swayed by him again?’ or ‘are you letting him off easily?’—whichever of the two, your sister had no intention of understanding Satoru’s side. But for you, as a courtesy for the man who tried his best to fix his broken family despite your adamant rejection, the least you could do was to finally put an end to the antagonism that he was receiving from your family.

That was the only possible way for you to co-parent healthily.

“Y/N.” It was Ian who had the courage to speak up first as soon as they met you at the bottom of the grand staircase. Your languidness seemed to have given him the wrong impression. “I checked with the court and they told me they didn’t receive any complaints from Satoru. How’d your conversation go with him?”

With your dad’s sympathetic eyes and Gen’s calculating gaze, you suppressed any other emotions from coming out except for the untroubled front that you were presenting to them. “He didn’t send the custody letter. It was his mom who did,” you said without sugarcoating the truth, “We’ve decided to co-parent.”

Your sister couldn’t put the puzzle pieces together from the obvious disconnect on your words. “Why would Auntie send it? What the hell’s her problem?” she questioned, arms crossed over her chest, “And co-parenting doesn’t exist in Japan’s law, Y/N. It’s either you will keep Sachiro or he will.”

“Well, I don’t care. I want my son to stay connected with his dad,” you snapped. “That’s my decision and not yours.”

You could surely count the number of times that you had actually answered Gen back, and although you felt bad for the way your relationship as sisters was practically ruined, you still wanted to make sure that she knew not to cross the line when you were making decisions for your son. It wasn’t you being stupid or lenient or too forgiving—it was you doing your best to make up for the time you stole between your ex-husband and his son. After all, if the tables were turned, you wouldn’t have liked it if your spouse hid your child and took three years of your motherhood away from you.

Based on how your father reacted, he seemed to have had the same understanding of the situation. “Is that what Satoru wants, darling? Just co-parent?”

You pressed your lips into a thin line before responding with utmost honesty. “At first, he wanted me to take him back so our family could be complete.”

“And?” Gen prodded. “Tell me you didn’t.”

Lucky for her, you were no longer the spineless sister that she claimed you were. “No, I officially broke it off with him. He obviously had no choice,” you answered, looking away. “Are you happy now?”

A sigh or two could be heard from your family. While as for Gen, she became more apologetic and less stern when she explained her side. “Y/N, I didn’t yell at you the other day just because I’m being petty. I said all that because I want you to protect yourself. Who else is gonna defend you but us?”

Well, it was over, anyway. You and Gojou weren’t tied anymore and he had already agreed to share parental duties while you would remain as the custodial parent. That was the best possible outcome that you could ever expect from such a broken man. “Just please, stop getting mad at Satoru,” you bargained while keeping your ex-husband in mind, “He already apologized and paid his dues. We both hurt each other, and now we’re both trying to atone and compensate for our mistakes.”

“You’re still protecting him,” Gen pointed out. “You don’t have to. You don’t need to forgive him. He wouldn’t have done the same for you.”

You decided to correct her statement. “But he did. And despite everything, I still loved him when he was my husband.”

Your father was more considerate with your feelings, however. “Just make sure you’re always choosing yourself first, okay? Dad’s here to give you advice if you need it.”

“Same here,” Ian chimed in, “Make sure that the rules you two will set in co-parenting Sachiro will still be favorable to you. You can consult me anytime if you think something isn’t fair.”

At least, contrary to your expectations, this day ended better. You managed to talk it out with Satoru without having a lawyer by your side, and now your family was also very supportive and understanding with your decision. It might seem too good to be true at the moment, but you had trust that your ex-husband would not do anything against his promises. His tears and his genuine downpour of feelings earlier were enough to tell you just how much he cared about you and your son, so you were reasonably sanguine that he would not be spiteful even after your rejection.

For now, you still had another problem and it was telling Sachiro that his parents weren’t actually together anymore.

How could you even begin to explain such a situation to a toddler? How could you open his mind to the reality that his mommy and daddy weren’t married anymore? How could you expect him to react after seeing you with another man and him with another woman?

It broke you inside that Sachiro was only 3 years of age when you had to have this talk with him. It devastated you just how innocent he was to be catapulted into the world of broken marriages, which ultimately deprived him of the happy family that he deserved to have. These thoughts were drowning you when you entered Sachiro’s playroom later that night, hesitating whether or not it was a good time to let your son know about the current setup between his parents. What was the best approach for a situation like this?

“Hi, Mama.” Your son waved his small arm at you while sitting on the mat next to his building blocks. He was completely oblivious to the hesitation in your movements when you hunkered down to meet his height. “Mama, lookie!”

You smiled at the small house he had created with the toy blocks and proceeded to shower him with praises. “Wow~! That’s amazing! Did my baby build this?”

The toddler nodded, cheerfully. “Yes, Mama. Can Sachi show Dada?”

Great. Good timing. Now that he brought up his father, you took this as an opportunity to open up the topic. “Sachi, mommy has something very important to tell you, so you listen carefully, okay?”

“Mmkay~”

Why was your heart beating so fast? Why was it pounding so loudly? You could feel beads of sweat forming on your temple. Your throat, parched. But you had to take no excuse in finally disclosing the truth to your son. “Sachi, mom and dad are…” you swallowed hard, “We’re not together anymore, but we’re still friends because of Sachi.”

Your little boy tilted his head to the side in confusion. “Why fwends, Mama? Is Dada mad at Sachi?”

“No, baby, it’s…” God, help me. “Dada loves Sachi very much, so he still talks to Mama, but because we’re not together anymore, that means he can’t live with us.”

It felt like a knife in the gut to see the way he pouted—his eyes shining with tears. “Why is Dada going away?”

“He’s not. You can still see him. You can always see him, my baby,” you immediately reassured while your child was at the peak of solving the complicated puzzle. He was too young to understand all this, but in what other way could you explain it? You sighed and continued. “It’s just that Mama and Dada aren’t together anymore.”

“But…” Sachiro shook his head in denial. “Sachi wants Mama with Dada.”

“Your Mommy and Daddy are divorced.”

The feminine voice wasn’t from Gen, but from a close friend of yours who stood by the door with a plaintive smile on her face. You didn’t know how long Ieiri had been standing there, but it seemed as if she had only decided to step in on the conversation once she saw how you were struggling to explain the situation to your son. It was only then did you realize that you really did need her help, and she was quick enough to act on it by giving you a certain look that said ‘I got this, let me help you’ before she sat down and spoke to Sachiro.

“Divorce means they’re no longer married to each other, but they still love you very much and they will always care for you,” Shoko calmly and patiently explained the situation to your child, distracting his mind by helping him put the toy blocks together—a tactic that Ieiri must have seen useful to lessen the psychological impact on Sachiro’s 3-year old brain. “Starting now, your daddy will live in the penthouse while your mommy will stay in this house. Sachi will stay with mommy, but you will still see daddy, too. Just like in New York, remember?”

Sachiro connected one block to another. “Is it… Is Dada bad for Mama?

You cleared your throat and stroked his plump cheek. “No, of course not. Dada and I will continue to be friends for you, baby. I’ll take care of you when you’re with me, and he’ll take care of you when you’re with him. I’ll read your bedtime stories, sing you to sleep, and give you bubble baths, while Dada will give you lots of hugs, play with you, and get you fried chicken.”

Ieiri let out a silent chuckle at your last line. “That’s right. Sachiro will still have both Mom and Dad.”

It was his pure innocence that led him to agree so easily. “Okay~”

But in seeing how your son initially reacted, someone might as well stab your heart with a knife over and over. Perhaps batter it with a hammer. Crush it so hard that nothing would be left but small fragments. When the inevitable day comes where Sachiro could finally understand the reality behind his parents’ marriage, you knew that his reaction would devastate you. In the first place, it would be heartbreaking to know that he was a child born from an arranged marriage. A child born only for the sake of an heir. Did Satoru even genuinely love you back then? Or was Sachiro made at the time where he was still using you for his corporate ambitions? Either way, you weren’t ready for your son to suffer from the aftereffects of your broken marriage. This was all on your mind as you went through that night, rearranging your thoughts and emotions as your friend kept you company by heading off to the balcony after you had put Sachiro to bed.

“How’d you hear about us co-parenting?” you asked Ieiri, leaning your back against the banister as she took a drag from her cigarette. Your question was in reference to how the woman found it easy to join in on the earlier conversation.

“I didn’t mean to overhear this,” she quickly clarified, blowing the puff of smoke away from you, “but Satoru called Suguru this afternoon and he said that you two decided to just co-parent after a confrontation. That’s why I figured that I should check on you and see how you’re doing.”

You forced a smile. “I’m doing fine. I think we both handled it like mature individuals.”

Her downturned eyes measured your true emotions. “I’m surprised that he didn’t react spitefully about it. The Gojou I used to know wouldn’t have let this slide,” she contemplated, “He really does love you.”

“I think he just doesn’t want any further conflict between us.” A soft sigh crawled out of your lips. “He’s a father, so I understand why he doesn’t want to subject Sachiro to the kind of environment that he was exposed to as a child. He said my explanation was enough for him.”

“It’s because of love,” Ieiri reiterated. “He’s willing to just forget everything despite being forced to believe that his son was never alive. He’s willing to forget that because he doesn’t want to have a reason to stop loving you.”

For some silly reason, you could feel a tight squeeze in your chest. “He has to stop loving me. It’s for the best, and that’s what I told him, too. I gave him the closure that he deserved.”

Her eyes widened before the emotions on her face faded back into a bittersweet smile. “It’s sad to know that nothing can bring you two together again, but I support whatever decision you make. I want you and him to be happy, even if it means you won’t be together in the end.”

Just like her, you were content with your choice and your only hope was to continue living your life with your son and your fiancé, Toji, who deserved your love more than anyone else in this world. You could never turn your back on him when he had been there for you during your lowest. Hopefully, Satoru would be able to find his Toji too and not spend the rest of his life pining after his ex-wife. Doing that would save him years of pain and countless lonely nights.

But until the day comes, you had to show him that platonic love was all that you two would ever have for each other now.

“I’ll still care about him even if we aren’t together anymore,” you silently mumbled, reaching for the cigarette between Ieiri’s fingers before you placed the filter between your lips. As you inhaled from your mouth, a thick cloud of smoke was released shortly.

The owner of the cigarette herself was in catatonic shock before she quickly grabbed the stick back. “Y/N! Smoking is bad for your heart,” she ironically scolded like a mother would, “It can be fatal.”

You spread your lips into a small smile. “Death doesn’t really scare me. I’m only scared of leaving Sachiro behind.”

“Satoru, that’s enough.”

Despite the continuous warnings from his best friend to stop drowning himself in more glasses of whiskey, did he listen? No, of course, he didn’t. This was the only way he could numb his pain. The only possible way for him to forget, even for just a moment, that the woman he loved was no longer his. It wasn’t because his pride was wounded nor was his ego bruised after you had rejected him days ago, but the reason he still couldn’t get himself together was because his expectations of having a complete family was slapped by the reality that you and him could never, ever be the same again.

In those three years where you had been away, it seemed that you were the only one who had truly moved on while he was still stuck on that false hope that one day, you would return. One day, you will come back. He might even be lucky enough to be forgiven for his past mistakes. But since none of that happened and would happen in the future, Satoru couldn’t hide just how devastatingly shattered he was both inside and outside. There was no way of fixing such a man like him anymore.

“Come on,” Suguru continued to insist, reaching for the glass on Satoru’s hand while signaling his bartender to stop serving him drinks. As he was the owner of this bar, Suguru could might as well have the bouncers kick his best friend out at this point, but he knew that Satoru needed to release the buildup of pain inside him, so no matter how many times he would tell him to stop drinking, his warnings were futile. And in realizing this, Suguru let out a deep sigh. “It’s about time you let her go, Satoru. She’s moved on.”

The white-haired man laughed to himself—the kind of laugh that expressed agony rather than actual humor. “You know what’s funny?” he began, eyelids drooping heavily before he took another sip, “When I recovered some of my memories, I was so angry. I wanted to take my son away from her like she did to me. I was determined to act out of spite. I kept thinking about the situation for days and days and days, until my anger just ceased on its own because I realized that I truly can’t get mad at her given our situation, you know? I can’t stay angry at her when I also remember all the fucking things I did to her.” Satoru tightened his grip on the glass, so much that he could almost crush it. “And then she came to my office crying and telling me how I have no right to hurt her all over again. I felt like my whole world collapsed then and there. It was killing me how she was so sure that I’d ruin her again.”

Getou gave him slow, yet gentle pats on the back. “You made mistakes just as she made hers. You were both traumatized in different ways.”

“I made her miserable.” His voice was engulfed in sorrow. “I saw in her eyes how scared she was at the thought of us being together again… but I just wanted a complete family of my own, Suguru. It doesn’t matter to me if she loves someone else. I don’t want Sachi to grow up with a broken family like I did.”

His best friend’s eyes were full of sympathy. But aside from the pity in his gaze, a hint of distaste also lingered behind it. “While you were spending the past few years punishing yourself because of the divorce, she was in New York building a relationship with another man. I don’t think there was ever a time she even thought of you, Satoru. She didn’t care about you until you got into an accident and she was being blamed for it. If she says she deserves better than you, then you deserve someone better, too.”

Someone better. What even was the definition of that? How could someone be better than his twin flame? How could he meet the right person who could fill that spot when you were the only person that owned all of his heart and soul?

“Don’t say it like that,” Gojou softly replied before downing the liquor and feeling the spirit burning his throat.

“But it’s true.” Suguru shrugged. “Who knows she might have fallen for Toji way back when she was still married to you. Isn’t it baffling how fast she was able to move on? You’ve suffered for years thinking that your child was dead, while she was out there letting another man act as your son’s father. You’re allowed to be mad at her, Satoru. Don’t invalidate your feelings out of guilt.”

Fuck. The patchy memories of him breaking down in the hospital made Satoru finish his glass of whiskey. And another. And another. It had to stop; these painful memories, these painful emotions, this painful truth. He had lost count of the amount of liquor that he had forced down his throat until his senses were becoming more and more uncoordinated. His vision was hazy and his emotional state was entering its euphoric state now that he was indeed intoxicated. At least, even if this feeling was temporary, he had still managed to find an escape from the soreness of his heart. Time was moving fast every time he closed his eyes and opened them again—with faces of strangers passing by, with bass boosted music ringing in his ears, with… with Akemi’s beautiful face in his line of sight. Was this a dream?

“God, you’re really drunk,” spoke the woman before him. She cupped his cheeks with her soft hands and made him look at her chocolate brown eyes. “Are you okay?”

Satoru’s defensive instinct was to pull her hand away. “W-Why are you here?”

Suguru was the one who confirmed the reason for the woman’s arrival. “Akemi, you made it,” he said to her before gesturing his chin towards his best friend. “He’s fucking gone. He throws a tantrum every time we tell him to stop drinking.”

Because of the excessive alcohol in his system, Gojou was fading in and out of consciousness while Akemi and Getou were having their conversation. He could hear their muffled voices, but was too numb to react and join in. Hell, he didn’t even know he was already leaning his head on Akemk’s shoulder as she held him in her arms with all her strength.

“How long have you two been here, Suguru?”

“Around ten? Like, maybe two hours ago.”

“His mom’s really worried. She’s the one who messaged me.”

“I know. Should we take him home?”

“Fuck off,” Satoru muttered, detaching himself from Akemi and Suguru and turning around to face the bartender. “Hey… You… Another glass.”

Akemi sat on the stool next to him and rubbed his back. “Satoru, you could get alcohol poisoning, you know?”

He refused, stubbornly. “Don’t nag at me. If you’re gonna drag me home, then don’t waste your time because—”

“I get it. I get you, so I won’t,” she bargained expertly as if she had dealt with a drunkard before, “I’ll let you talk about your feelings until you’re satisfied, but you can’t drink anymore.”

Gojou lowered his head and chuckled mindlessly. “You can’t make me do that.”

Contrary to his claim, she actually did. And she did it by snatching the glass from his hand, only to drink the liquor straight without hesitation. She didn’t even grimace despite the strong taste of the whiskey. “I’m gonna drink every glass you’ll order, then.”

“‘Hime.” Satoru smiled, glancing at her red lips and her equally red cheeks. “You can’t handle alcohol.”

She took the challenge with a cute determined expression on her face. “Try me, ‘Toru.”

That was how the rest of the night was spent with drunken confessions and emotional outbursts. Gojou let every repressed feeling, every memory, every bit of his vulnerability out in the open knowing that he had someone listening to him. He had someone who offered her shoulders for him to cry on. He had someone whom he could vent on and not worry about being judged. Someone who smiled with him, laughed with him, and cried with him. When Getou told him he deserves someone better, was that ‘someone’ Akemi?

“Y/N said… she’d be so much happier…” Gojou tried to stop himself from wobbling in the parking lot, “...without me.”

Akemi, who had to take at least two glasses in Satoru’s stead, was also struggling to walk straight. “She’s both too good and too bad for you.”

He grinned through the heavy ache in his chest. “She faked her abortion… What if I fake my death in return? Maybe she’d be fully happy by then.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Satoru. That’ll mess her up.”

While thinking of a response, he stumbled and nearly fell forward. He would have fallen face flat on the concrete floor if not for the woman who caught him at the perfect timing. “Did you know?”

Akemi looked up at him with her drunken eyes. “What?”

Satoru took a deep breath and looked up at the blanket of stars above him. “She told me to… find someone else.”

At the mention of that, your voice echoed inside his head, reminding him of the last advice you gave him before you walked out of his office (and ultimately, his life):

“Satoru, let’s move on,” you said, voice quivering in the middle of your sentence, “I hope you’ll meet someone new. Someone you’ll love and respect. Someone you can protect and comfort. Someone you will cherish and value for the rest of your life.” Agonizing silence suddenly filled the air. “That person isn’t me anymore.”

Was that ‘someone’ the same woman who continued to care for him as they stumbled inside her apartment at 3 AM? Someone who, in her insobriety, admitted how she wished he could finally accept that you were not the only woman he could ever love in this lifetime? What Akemi said was true. Drunk or not, Satoru was aware that he should open his eyes and realize that life was so much more than just hopelessly wishing for an estranged ex-wife to come running back into his arms. He caused you irreparable damage which, in turn, led you to do the same to him. The only way to get out of this loop was by learning how to forgive and let go.

You already made your choice, and that choice didn’t involve Satoru anymore.

“Isn’t it crazy?” A tipsy Akemi slurred as she helped Satoru sit on her couch. Her milky skin was glistening under the ambient lights—her chest looking like a blank canvas that he could freely paint on. “Y/N asked me a favor to keep an eye on you. I couldn’t tell her how dangerous her request was.”

Satoru got up, pressed his forehead against hers, and gripped her small waist while tracing her curve with the palm of his hand. “Why?”

“Because…” She looked up to meet his icy blue eyes. Her long lashes were heavily fluttering as she released a dejected sigh. “Because I might not be able to stop myself from falling for you.”

He blinked slowly and took it all in despite his inability to properly rearrange his thoughts. “That’s bad, huh?”

“Very bad,” she mumbled, burying his face on his chest while hugging him close. It was her liquor courage that allowed her to speak what was on her mind. “I know you wouldn’t dare catch me, too.”

Gojou embraced her tighter, holding onto her presence with fear that she might just be a figment of his imagination. “What if I will?”

The warmth coming from her slender body was in contrast to the cold tip of her index finger that she used to trace his lower lip. “Then, please don’t let me go.”

You see, in Gojou’s head, he wished that he had heard that from someone else. A specific someone whom he married and had a child with. Someone he wanted to care for until his hair turns gray and wrinkles start to appear on his face. Someone he vowed to love for better and for worse, for richer and for poorer, in good times and in bad, in sickness and in health, forsaking all others until death do you part.

Death wasn’t the reason you two have parted. It was his failure as a husband, a lover, and a childhood friend. It was your unyielding decision to close your heart to him and be in the arms of another man. It was your cursed marriage that was never bound to work in the beginning as if the author of this romance book had always planned for a tragic ending.

But with Akemi right here in front of him, could he finally find his happily ever after?

As they held each other under the dark with nothing but the moonlight illuminating the dimmed room, Satoru touched her cheek and told her, “Thank you for being here for me.” And before he knew it, he was already diving in for a deep kiss. A kiss that felt so warm and tender. A kiss that felt so gentle and affectionate. A kiss that felt so oddly comforting. When was the last time he had kissed someone like this? He couldn’t remember, but he was too engulfed from the intensity of it and could feel himself reaching cloud nine.

He kissed her more. More. More. He kissed her passionately and enjoyed the sweet taste of her lips, sucking her lower lip until she allowed him access to her tongue. He relished from the synchronizing movements of their mouths as if they couldn’t get enough of just a simple kiss.

So, naturally, they moved to the bed.

And he undressed her the same way she undressed him, peeling her underwear to strip her bare while she was unbuckling his belt and pulling down his pants.

And then he was on top of her, mapping her collarbone with his love bites. Her soft, milky flesh was filled with proof of how much Satoru had kissed her body.

And the next events were nothing but hazy memories of him intertwining their hands together, of her wrapping her bare legs around his hips, of him burying his member deep inside of her, of her scratching his back with every pound, of him squeezing her tender breast, of her moaning so wantonly in his ear, of them banging the walls all night because of the bed’s continuous movements.

“S-Satoru…!” She held on his shoulders the minute he was increasing his pace. Each thrust made her clench around his girth, forcing a guttural moan out of him as he felt how warm she was.

He lowered his head to kiss her forehead. “You’re so… beautiful.”

Frankly, that was the most he could remember while under the influence of alcohol.

“I could love you,” he raspily whispered to her after they were done doing the deed and he was now holding her on top of him as they tried to catch their breaths—their cold sweats making their bodies glisten under the moonlight. She could probably hear the beat of his heart as he embraced her tightly. “I just need to learn how to properly do it.”

She lazily moved her head upwards so she could peck his lips. “You can take your time.”

You were happy.

Repeat. You were happy. You were blissful. You were… (what else was a perfect word to describe it?) elated? Yes, you were that. You had to be that.

Things were back to normal ever since your last encounter with Gojou and you had nothing else to focus on except your business, your family, your fiancé, and most especially, your son. Satoru had long been out of the picture, but you already prepared for the moments where he would have to spend time with Sachiro, which also meant that you two would still cross paths every now and then. There was nothing wrong with that. You were simply worried that your ex-husband might find it unbearable to still see you around while knowing full well that you were living in your own domestic bubble without him. It must feel like you were rubbing it in his face how you were going to get married to the right man this time around, but you sincerely hoped that Satoru wouldn’t see it that way. What you hoped for was for him to simply wish for your happiness in life the same way he did on the day of your wedding to Toji.

Toji. As for him, you finally could spend ample time together to compensate for the lack of attention you had given him because of your whole family charade with Gojou. No matter how much Toji would deny that it didn’t matter to him since you did it out of consideration for your ex-husband’s amnesia, it was obvious that he did eventually reach his limit and it was the reason why he had revealed the divorce to him in the first place. He wasn’t being petty nor was he acting on jealousy. You were now seeing his actions as him protecting you from getting deeply involved with the man who made you hesitate walking down the aisle on your second wedding. To think of it, Toji must have been scared. Because if you ran away from your wedding after seeing Gojou again, how much more if you had to keep pretending to be your ex-husband’s wife for God knows how long? Toji surely believed that you might end up not even wanting to push through with your marriage anymore.

But you were not going to let that happen. He was the present and future now, and Satoru was just a past. You didn’t know how many times you had already reminded yourself of that, but you still found yourself clinging to that reminder every time you get up in the morning to see the face of another man. Not the one with white hair and blue eyes, but the one with dark hair and a scar on his lip.

“I’ll drop you off at work,” he offered as soon as you woke up next to him, “Then I can drop Sachiro at daycare after.”

You leaned in to give him his gentle morning kiss. “You might be too busy.”

“It’s okay. I can adjust my schedule for you.”

What a truly lucky woman you were.

This was your life now. Someday, you two would have to live under the same roof and have your own family. You would have to cook him breakfast, prepare his clothes, fix his necktie, and wish him a good day at work. It wouldn’t be your first time doing it for a ‘husband’, but you assured yourself that things would be better the second time around. You wouldn’t be subjected to an adulterous marriage, deception, and manipulation. You had forgiven Gojou for that and you weren’t blaming him anymore, however, part of you could still remember the times you had to sleep on an empty bed, or the times you had to cover up his cheating just to save face in front of your family, or the times you had cried yourself to sleep wondering when your husband would finally treat you as his wife. Some people might say that you were clinging onto his wrongdoings far too much than the times where he actually showed character development once he had fallen in love with you, but… your scars were deep and they never faded. So even if you have completely healed, it was normal for you to occasionally look back on how the wound was caused.

The same goes for him. Despite saying that he was willing to forgive you for hiding his child, you were completely aware that you caused him unforgivable pain, too. He must be struggling with the memories of him suffering for the past three years and he was doing his best to just not be reminded of it all. It was a matter of learning to forgive, but not exactly forget.

And again, with the choice you made, you had to be happy.

Your heart was in peace because you were doing everything to own up to your decision. You had to live your life the same way you had been living back in New York where you had all the space to only think about your son and your career. What was so different this time around? It should be a normal day at Hearte and you presented yourself as this cheerful boss that they adored when you entered the office that morning, greeting every employee, and thanking them for showing up to work on time.

The marketing department and the social media manager were the ones who had been fairly busy after the launch because they have had to deal with the online backlash, but you trusted your team and they made sure to do some damage control to prevent your fashion line from earning a bad reputation before it could even make a name in the industry. On the brighter side, everything else was less hectic as compared to the weeks before your launch. Now, you had to start planning the concept for the upcoming summer collection and your days would mostly be occupied by meetings, but there was no rush in doing such since you also had to monitor the sales department to know which pieces were selling versus those that weren’t.

Exclusivity was big for luxury brands and that was what you were striving for. Though, it was an utter lie for you to say that the opinion of the general public wouldn’t matter when every feedback that you receive could actually help you determine how your brand was being perceived. Constructive criticism was beneficial in that sense. What wasn’t okay was the unnecessary hate you were getting from strangers who didn’t even know anything about your life. Ian constantly told you not to read the comment section on articles, at least for your peace of mind, and you did find it much better for your mental health when you stopped reading about the false claims that people were saying about you.

Besides, the only other person who could attest to the things you had been through back in New York was your best friend, Akemi, who was oddly late for work today.

“Feels weird that I’m earlier than you,” you quipped, casually walking inside her office to see her scrambling to open her laptop. She did not meet your eyes when you walked in and instead, did as much to avoid it. “Is everything okay?”

It looked as if she was shaking away a deep thought. “Yeah, sorry I’m late. The subway was too crowded today.”

“That’s okay. Are you really not going to accept my offer, though?” you said, sitting on the couch while browsing through the moodboard on your iPad. “It’ll help you manage your commute time if you have your own car.”

Akemi adamantly shook her head, but still sounded grateful for your consideration. “Buying me a car of my own isn’t your responsibility, Y/N. Don’t worry about it.”

“Then, you can have the Corvette if you want. I’ve been planning to buy a convertible BMW, anyway. It’s less flashy.” With all this car talk, there was one person that reminded you who was into collecting sports cars back when he was a child until now, and you smiled fondly as you remembered how he fulfilled that dream the moment he became an adult. Unfortunately, that car was caught in a collision and you had no idea whether or not he would still get a replacement for it. “The Corvette kinda looks like a cheaper version of Satoru’s McLaren, isn’t it? That’s why I wanna let go of it. I wanna let go of everything that reminds me of him.”

Your friend didn’t respond to your joke the way you expected. In fact, she stopped typing on her laptop as soon as you mentioned your ex-husband’s name. “...Ah, is that so?”

Your response was to nod and look at her. “Yeah. Oh, I don’t think I’ve told you this yet because I’ve been so busy, but he and I decided to co-parent Sachiro. He was actually surprisingly cooperative about it.”

“Was he?” She continued checking her emails, but her voice was getting softer. Perhaps she was just as surprised as you were because who knew that Satoru Gojou would actually choose to be amicable with his ex-wife instead of filing a custody claim?

“I told him to move on,” you recounted the emotional conversation as you got up and stared at the floor to ceiling window, “I’d really love it if he finds someone new. He deserves it too, you know? He also had a hard time when I left him and I don’t want this loneliness to eat his heart away. He’s a really sweet lover as long as he’s with someone he genuinely adores, so if he meets the right woman someday, I’d be happy. I’d wish him well. And despite everything, I’ll always keep him in my heart.” God, you didn’t even know why you were pouring everything out to her right now, but you couldn’t tell these feelings to your family without receiving comments on the side. At least, Akemi wouldn’t do that. She had always been receptive to your feelings and had proven herself to be unbiased with her judgment, so it was okay for you to release how you truly felt about your ex-spouse. “Satoru is my first love and he’ll always remain that.”

It was nice, truthfully. It was such a nice feeling to reminisce your childhood with him, especially before his parents’ relationship affected the way he perceived the world. Satoru Gojou used to be a harmless child who dreamed of having his own family with the person he loved. Even back then, he was a hopeless romantic. He craved for love and attention, and was the happiest whenever he received it. Things might have changed when you two grew older, but you were certain that Satoru was slowly returning to the old him. All he needed was the right person by his side.

You didn’t hear anything from Akemi except her keeping her head down and sniffing silently, wiping her eyes as she hid the tears that flooded them. Silly you. You probably moved her to tears with your poignant confession. “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t think you’d cry from that,” you said, chuckling to lighten up the conversation.

“No, it’s just…” She struggled from an internal thought before taking a deep breath. “Y/N, you're the strongest and most genuine person I’ve met, and I truly do love you as a friend. I… I don’t deserve you at all.”

You walked to her table and offered a handkerchief to wipe her tearful eyes. “Hey, I should be the one telling you that. I feel like I ask too much from you. I know you’re constantly checking on Gojou even though you’re busy, so I appreciate that you’re going out of your way to make sure he won’t do anything harmful to himself.”

She tightened her grip on the Hermès cloth that you handed her. “Please don’t be too nice to me,” she pleaded, looking at you with a rueful gaze. “There’s something you need to know.”

“Hmm?” You waited patiently with wide eyes that were ready to understand whatever it was that she was going to say. But after a minute had passed, and another minute, and another minute more, all Akemi did was to cover her face with her shaky hands. It occurred to you that maybe she was going through a really difficult time and you sympathized with her emotional well-being knowing that she wasn’t usually the kind of person who would openly cry in front of someone. “It’s okay. If you can’t talk about it now, you can do it once you’re ready,” you reassured, rubbing her shoulder and deciding to give her some space. “Whatever it is, I’m here for you. I promise to repay you for being there for me.”

Akemi was a shitty friend. She didn’t need anyone telling her that because she was able to admit it herself. She wasn’t going to sugarcoat her actions in order to lessen the guilt in her heart, but it was that same guilt that prevented her from spilling the whole truth to her best friend.

How could she do that? You see, she asked that to herself countless times the morning she woke up after her drunken session with your ex-husband, and she still couldn’t stop herself from being too overwhelmed by the idea of betraying her friend. So, to ask herself again, how could she do that?

Firstly, why don’t we list down the reasons why Akemi was considering herself as a terrible friend?

Sleeping with your best friend’s ex is not okay.

It’s not okay! Although to be fair, she and Satoru were too intoxicated to control their actions. They were driven by lust and high emotions, which were major key factors as to why two individuals—particularly that of a man and woman—would resort to sleeping together. Aside from that, Gojou had been divorced for three years, so technically, he was free to sleep with whoever he wanted. He wasn’t tied to anyone nor was he cheating on anyone.

But the thing was, that was still such a sickening mindset and Akemi was angry at herself that she even clung to that defense at the pinnacle of her guilt.

Falling in love with your best friend’s ex is even worse.

The worst! She knew how wrong it was, but how could she explain it to you that she never expected to grow such feelings for your ex-husband? How could she stop herself when she had to spend time with him as if she was already his lover? It was an inevitable situation and she would consider it total bullshit if she denied the fact that she was attracted to him. With his good looks and charming personality, who could resist him? Obviously, she knew his red flags and she was aware of what had happened between you two, but she also recognized how extremely sorry he was for the things he did. She was a witness to Satoru’s side of the coin, which gave her a better understanding of him as a vulnerable, lonely person like she was. But should that be enough for her to start a relationship with the man?

No, that was not enough.

Hiding it from your best friend is inexcusable.

It’s betrayal! Even if she asked every person on this planet, they would all say the same thing. This situation was not livable and she had to tell you the truth if she really valued your friendship and respected you as a human being. She would need to break it to you and be prepared for the consequences of her actions. Would she lose her title as your trusted business partner? Would she lose her spot as your trusted friend? Would she lose you?

It crushed her heart that, yes, she definitely would.

But what about Gojou, you may ask? How did he feel about this? Well, that was exactly what burdened Akemi’s mind on the way to her apartment when you advised her to go home early so she could ‘rest her mind’. Little did you know, she couldn’t exactly free her mind from overthinking when she was too submerged by the flashbacks of her morning-after with your ex-husband.

“Akemi, what have we done…?” Satoru didn’t even hide it in his fully sober eyes that he was regretting what happened last night. The way he was moving away from her, the way he was quickly slipping a shirt on—did he not remember how he kissed her and told her he would learn to love her? Was he more bothered that he woke up in another woman’s bed and not yours?

Akemi would have been extremely hurt if only she wasn’t panicking herself. Because at the sight of your half-naked ex-husband in front of her, all she could think of was how you would feel had you known about this. This was wrong. Wrong in every sense and in every angle. She unknowingly and dangerously threw herself in the middle of love and friendship, and now it became an internal conflict that she could not escape. “I… I don’t know. We were drunk and it just… happened.”

Gojou looked at her and said nothing. Nothing! And that was the scariest part because it seemed like he was going to lose it once he opened his mouth. He was clearly thinking about how wrong it was and how it would hurt you. You. Not her feelings, but yours. Akemi was sure that his mind was only filled with you when he headed out to the balcony. “Fuck. I need some fresh air.”

“Wait, Satoru—”

“Let’s forget about last night,” was his curt reply when he walked away without even looking back.

She hasn’t even been explicitly rejected, yet why did it hurt so much?

They both did it, yet why was the pain so much heavier on her?

Akemi’s eyes were brimming with hot tears. She should have seen this coming. She should have stayed in her lane, remained sober, and didn’t let herself be entangled with a man whose history with his ex-wife was still fresh on his mind. What more could she expect?

No, there was nothing she should expect from him, so she swallowed her feminine pride and chased after him on the balcony, driven by an innate inhibition that made her disregard her feelings in order to protect her heart. With her hand clutching the towel around her chest, she stared at Gojou’s back as she approached him. “Satoru, it’s my fault…” she faltered, trying not to sound weak, “I know you think I’m a mistake and that you’ll just consider me a hookup that you’ll easily forget about, but I want you to know that I… I won’t get mad at you for it. You love Y/N and you feel sorry for her. I do, too. I didn’t mean to do this to her.”

When Satoru turned around, his stance was different from the one he showed in her bedroom. This time, his expression was apologetic as if he could feel pensive sadness at the sight of a guilt-ridden, teary-eyed Akemi. “I’m not blaming you. I’m sorry,” he immediately said, taking a few steps forward to close the distance between them. “I’m sorry I made you feel that way. I’m just mostly mad at myself because I dragged you into this when you’re her friend.”

“We were intoxicated.” That was the excuse, but also the plain truth.

“I know.” He ran his thumb across her cheek to wipe her faint tears. “I’d still own up to it. Don’t blame yourself. You already do so much for me.”

She didn’t expect the next words that suddenly came out of her mouth. They became fluid with a bottle cap to stop them from spilling. “But I willingly did those things for you.” And just before she realized the meaning behind her statement, it was too late to take it back.

Gojou was already rubbing his temple with a mirthless laugh. “Akemi, don’t get attached to me. You deserve better.”

“You’re right. I shouldn’t.” She held his hand and squeezed it. “Yet you’re just making it harder for me to leave you alone.”

The man sighed and pressed his forehead against hers, letting the tips of his white hair fall messily before his eyes. “Do you remember what I said before you fell asleep in my arms?” he asked while seemingly in an inner turmoil of his own.

Just when she thought he didn’t remember their sweet moment post-sex. Here he was reminding her of it and it was causing an exponential increase in her heartbeat. It was crystal clear that he was referring to the part where he said he could love her, but he would have to learn how to properly do it first. Was that him finally considering the idea of starting new with someone else? Was that him finally letting you go? Surely, it was a domino effect that required both. “I do...”

“I’m sorry I got you involved.” He closed his eyes as if he was cursing himself mentally. “I think it’s best that we just forget about what happened between us.”

She completely understood why, but deep inside her, she couldn’t hide how much it stung. “We should pretend it never happened,” she agreed, “You can’t dive into another relationship right away.”

He nodded. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry, too,” she returned.

…

……

………

Normally, this was the part where they would have to separate and just move on with their lives. This was the part where Gojou would walk out of her apartment and promise to himself that he would never come back. After all, Akemi meant nothing to him. She didn’t mean anything to him. Yet why did he hesitate? Why did he spend another minute of silence staring at her eyes as though he was contemplating about taking risks and starting anew?

Satoru had two roads in front of him, and he ended up going to the path that led to her.

How did he establish his choice? He did it by kissing her. It wasn’t just him leaning in and crashing his lips onto hers. It was also her stepping forward at the same time to meet his lips with an affectionate kiss as if their attraction to one another was brought by gravity. They shared a deep, passionate kiss like they were sucking each other’s presence with the movements of their mouths. There was no going back anymore. They were both sober, both able to remember this moment with a clear vision. They were both lonely, but not when they were next to each other. And by the time he pulled away, his cerulean eyes were coruscating under the sunlight. They reflected sorrow, but also hopefulness. “She said I… I should move on and be with someone else,” he claimed, recalling the words that must have been flooding his mind.

Akemi tugged his shirt. “Then, what’s holding you back?”

“I don’t know…” His breathing became still. “I just can’t promise you commitment right now.”

“We can take it slow,” she offered, “We can figure it out.”

Satoru pulled her to his chest. “She’s gonna spend the rest of her life hating me for this,” he stated, pressing his lips on her temple, “But Suguru’s right, too. I deserve to find my own happiness with someone else, just like how she found hers with another man.”

“You do.” She tightened her arms around his torso. “I know this is so fucked up and I’m a really shitty fucking friend, but… I’m a mess. I’m a mess, Satoru. I like you and I shouldn’t. I really shouldn’t, but I want to be loved and I know that’s what you need, too.”

He pulled away, only because he wanted to see how genuine her eyes were. “Do you think you can handle someone like me?”

Her mind said no, but her heart said, “Yes.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

You hadn’t heard from Gojou for the past two weeks despite telling you that he was going to contact you about a formal schedule on when he should be allowed to see his son. You were simply waiting for his word, concluding that he might be having a really hectic week at the Gojou Group, which was why he couldn’t even reach out to you. It even came to a point where you were tempted to just contact him first, but Ian told you that you shouldn’t initiate anything and to just wait for your ex-husband to decide on his own.

Frankly, you didn’t want to rush into it. You were just worried because Sachiro had been asking you about when he could see his dad and you couldn’t bear having to explain again and again that his father was a busy man.

The waiting game sucked.

But also, you were able to pay attention to more important things. During the period of waiting for Satoru to contact you, you discussed some things about the co-parenting setup with your family, mainly pointing out that you wanted to change Sachiro’s legal name to his father’s. It was something that you had already decided on back when you were in New York because you did anticipate that Satoru would want to make his son carry his name for legal purposes, especially since Sachiro would (assumingly) be the sole heir to his multinational conglomerate. At first, Gen rejected the idea believing that Satoru could use it against you in the future, but it was your father that reasoned with her, stating that changing Sachiro’s family name wouldn’t mean that your ex-husband would also have the custodial rights. And since Ian was there to confirm it, they eventually agreed to your plans.

Now, the only problem was executing the plan with your baby daddy and convincing him about flying to New York City within the next few weeks so that you two could fix Sachiro’s birth certificate and citizenship.

Nine days, you counted. It took Satoru nine days to finally contact you and he did it through Miwa who sent you such a professional email about her boss’ request to have Sachiro’s weekends spent with him. The schedule was still favorable for you because your ex-husband only wanted Fridays to Sundays while the rest of the week was all yours to have. Fair enough. But you still called Miwa that afternoon to ask her if you could meet with her boss personally and talk to him about New York.

“Ms. Y/N, how are you?” she quickly greeted you as soon as she answered the phone.

“I’m great. How ‘bout you?” you returned her cordiality, “You didn’t have to be so formal with the email and all. You could have just told me through text.”

You could sense her apologetic smile on the other end of the line. “Chairman wanted to make sure that everything will be communicated professionally. He didn’t want to make things uncomfortable for you.”

“I see…” You let out an awkward laugh. So, he really wanted to stay professional now, huh? “Is he still in the office? I was thinking of meeting up with him at the coffee shop across the street.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, Ms. Y/N. He went home early today.”

In that case, you hoped he wouldn’t mind if you visited him at the penthouse personally. You two broke it off on good terms now (and you still left a few things in your shared home), so you figured that there was no harm in coming back to that sentimental place. Besides, you could use the excuse of picking up some of the bags you had left in the closet before you could proceed to actually propose your plans for Sachiro. You were already looking forward to seeing his reaction once you told him that you were willing to have Sachiro acquire his family name because your ex-husband himself had always wanted his son to be acknowledged by the whole world as his heir.

Though, another tiny little problem with that was the media’s knowledge about your son, and Toji was the one who reminded you of it while you were driving through the city.

“No one really knows about Sachi aside from us,” he pointed out a fact that you seemed to have overlooked, “The public speculates that you had a miscarriage after the infidelity scandal was exposed, while some others think you secretly gave birth to him in New York. They know you’re a private person, but not to that extent, you get what I mean? They’d come for you if they found out that what you told Satoru was that you terminated your pregnancy. You know how cancel culture works in this society. People are gonna boycott your brand and send you a tirade of hateful words online.”

You held back a sigh as you maneuvered the car to the left. “Maybe, I… I can talk to Gojou about it.”

“About what?”

“About announcing it in public that he and I have a child together,” you introduced the idea, “Or is that uncomfortable for you?”

He denied it straight away. “It’s fine with me if he’s gonna cooperate with you.”

“Okay…”

“You do what’s best. I gotta go,” said your fiancé, “I’ll see you later, alright?”

“Alright, bye. I love you.”

That should add another reason on your list as to why you do need to have this talk with your ex-husband in person. Aside from your initial plan, you would also have to try and let him understand why it would be advantageous for the both of you to voluntarily reveal Sachiro’s existence instead of letting it be exposed by the media, because that would be problematic, not only for his and your of your publicities, but also for your son who would be in the middle of all this.

But what if Gojou decided to turn his back on you after you announce your child to the public? What if he exposed you himself and tell them that you lied about your abortion? What if he provided all the receipts of you hiding your child in another country while he was suffering from depression back in Japan?

That would truly be the end of you.

You still had hope, though. You had hope because you knew that Satoru was not the kind of person who would destroy you anymore. He was now the kind of man who would beg for his ex-spouse to come back, swallow his pride, and willingly subject himself to be a victim of adultery as long as you would become his wife again. If he could extend his vulnerability that much for you, then would you truly believe that he was still hell bent on getting his revenge?

You were a sanguine person to begin with, and you kept that positive mindset as you finally stepped out of the elevator before walking to the foyer of the penthouse. It took you by surprise when you saw that your wedding portraits were neatly stacked in a corner along with your bags, shoes, and other things that you owned as if this home no longer offered any space for you. Satoru must have decided to throw them away now, but why did that cause tiny pricks in your heart?

“Satoru?” you called, increasing the volume of your voice in this seemingly empty house. “Satoru, I’m here.”

Should you just ring his phone? Or should you see him in the bedroom? Or perhaps he was busy reading books in his home office?

“Y/N?” The answer was there when he was descending the staircase in a hasty manner. His hair, disheveled. His chest, glistening with sweat. He had nothing but sweatpants on so it made more sense that he was in the gym prior to coming down. “What are you doing here?”

“Why do you look like you’ve seen a ghost?” You smiled and tried to be casual, putting your feet together and keeping a safe distance from your ex-husband. His crystal blue eyes did not shine when he looked at you. “I just wanted to talk to you about, um… Well, I was planning for us three to go to New York and fix Sachi’s papers.”

Satoru looked uneasy, but still presented a composed version of himself as he placed his hands inside his pockets. “You mean change his name?”

You nodded. “Yeah, that. I know we can have people process the papers for us, but I also thought that it could be a great opportunity for me to also show you where and how I raised him back there.”

“Okay.” His answer was short, but direct to the point. And as he looked away from you, he was throwing his head back as if he was trying to free himself from all the stress that he was possibly experiencing internally. What made you curious was the haze of guilt in his eyes. “Listen, can we just have this talk another day? Better yet, just set the date on when you wanna go to New York and we can fly private.”

His dismissive attitude made you regret coming here at all, but how stupid could you be? Of course, it wasn’t like things were sunshines and rainbows between you two now. He probably still held some grudge from your last conversation. “Alright,” you softly replied, “I’m sorry for coming unannounced. I didn’t mean to disturb your peace or anything. I was just excited to let you know that we can change Sachi’s name.”

He slightly turned away. “Did you come here alone? Do you need a ride home?”

“No, I’m fine. I drove here,” you insisted, stuffing your throat with the awkward air. “I’ll personally take Sachi to you this weekend. He misses you.”

“I miss him, too.”

You kept a steady breath and considered whether it was the best time to leave. He must be feeling so lonely and you were the cause of it. You were even shoving it at him by going here. “Gojou, I’m sorry if I was too harsh last time.”

“Y/N, stop apologizing. I don’t deserve it,” he quickly replied and shook his head, “You said you’ll be happier without me. So unless it’s necessary, let’s not cross each other’s paths anymore, okay?”

Damn. “Yeah, I guess we—”

“Satoru?”

You must be dreaming. You must be fucking dreaming.

Because if you weren’t and if this was your devastating reality, then why was Akemi Hirai coming down the stairs with nothing but your husband’s shirt on? Why did your best friend look horrified as soon as she noticed your presence in this penthouse that you, for a year, lived in as Satoru Gojou’s wife? Why was she hiding her face behind him as if she was in deep shame?

Speechless. That was what you were as you ended up scoffing at the ridiculousness of this situation. You stood unblinking, unable to process the sight in front of you. “I…” You couldn’t even find the right words! “I… I’m confused. Why are you…?”

Gojou was clearly panicking, but he was also focused on measuring your possible outburst. “Y/N, I was going to tell you about this.”

You clenched your hand into a fist. “...Are you together?”

You didn’t know whether to laugh or cry when Akemi said “yes” and Satoru said “no”.

“It’s complicated,” your ex-husband tried to pacify, reaching out for your arm before you moved away. He was looking so desperate as if you had caught him cheating on you the same way he used to do with Sera. “I’m sorry. I know you’re mad right now and you deserve to be, but please just direct your anger at me. Don’t get mad at ‘Kemi.”

They were even on a nickname basis now, too? You were a minute away from exploding, yet all you could do was stare at them in catatonic stupor. “Since when?” you questioned, eyeing your best friend. “Akemi?”

“A c-couple days ago,” she answered with a quivering voice and tear-filled eyes. “I-I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Y/N. I didn’t mean to. I really didn’t mean to hurt you like this.”

“I’m not hurt,” you claimed—your mouth, tight and grim. Your expression, cold and unrelenting. Still, you couldn’t help but notice how both of their lips were swollen from all the kissing they must be having. It made you feel sick inside. “This just doesn’t make sense to me.”

Doesn’t it, really? Or were you just in denial of the fact that this was bound to happen one way or another? She had been spending time with him even back when he was at the hospital. She had been comforting him up to when he learned about the divorce. She had been there for him when he recovered most of his memories. She was his confidant, a friend he could count on, a person he could lean on. She was his Toji. So, what right do you have to get mad? What right do you have when, not more than two weeks ago, you were the one shoving your ‘happy relationship with Toji’ to Satoru’s face? What right do you have when you were the one who told him to find someone else to love so he could stop chasing after you? What right do you have when… when… deep, deep down, you knew that Akemi was the perfect woman for him?

Betrayal? How could she betray you when you were divorced? How could she have wronged you when you were the one who had unknowingly pushed this agenda?

Questions. Too many questions. Too many emotions.

“Y/N.” Satoru held your hand. “Let’s talk about it.”

They must have pitied you. “No. Just answer me honestly,” you said, pulling your hand away and preventing the pain from gnawing at your chest, “Are you using my best friend to get back at me? Because if that’s the case…”

His gaze lingered between you and her, contemplating his answer before opening his mouth to confirm how he truly felt. Truthfully, he looked emotionally exhausted. He looked absolutely over it as though he just wanted to completely stop associating himself with you and all the melancholic memories of your past, probably wishing to himself that he just wanted a break and a new life without any trace of his ex-wife. As the thought of it sent a pang to your chest, you weren’t sure if you actually wanted to hear his response. “I’d like to start new with her,” he said, feeling sorry for you, “I wanna get to know her more and perhaps make things work. I was gonna ask for your permission, but—”

“Stop.” You forced an upward curve on your lips as you avoided both of their eyes. He wanted to ask your permission? He was making you look pathetic with that statement alone. “I get it. It’s fine. It’s not like I’m still your wife or anything.” Being a woman was such a difficult role, wasn’t it? Because now you have to protect your feelings by putting on a mask before proceeding to ramble. “It’s none of my business anymore and I’m glad you listened to my advice. Just don’t… don’t you ever break Akemi’s heart.”

Satoru looked down, clearly cognizant of your ingenuity. “I won’t.”

Akemi, who had been wiping her dampened cheeks, walked closer to pull you into a tight hug. “Y/N, I’m really, really sorry… I don’t know how else I can ask for forgiveness. I’ll go down on my knees if you want me to.”

Stop. Stop. STOP!

“There’s nothing to apologize for.” As odd as it may seem, you stayed calm and withdrew yourself from her embrace. Everything else after that was you trying to be civil as you turned to Gojou while preparing to leave. “I’ll contact Miwa about New York, but if you can’t make it, then I can just process the papers myself.”

Was it because he felt sorry that was why he offered you a sympathetic gaze? “No, no. I’ll be there with you, Y/N. I promise. Us—you, me, and Sachi.”

You didn’t have the strength to say anything anymore. You didn’t have the ability to react. All you could think of right now was to leave as soon as you can, walk as fast as you can, and step back inside the elevator knowing that your departure wouldn’t mean anything much to those two people up in the penthouse. In this puzzling situation, you ended up staring at the view of the city from the glass walls of the elevator as the platform lowered down level by level.

It was unfair for you, but did you consider that maybe, it was unfair for them, too? It was unfair for Akemo who might have tried her best not to fall in love despite always voicing out how much she was wishing to be in a relationship again. It was unfair for Satoru who was now finding his fresh new start with someone who could actually accept him for who he was. There was no betrayal. There was no cheating. Just two people who didn’t mean to catch feelings for one another, and you were once again the antagonist that was holding them back from their happily ever after.

How funny was it that this felt like Sera all over again when it shouldn’t be?

Unfortunately, you couldn’t hold it any longer when you broke down inside the elevator with no one else to comfort your pain but yourself.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

#gojou satoru x reader #gojou satoru x you #gojou satoru angst #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru angst #gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojo angst #jjk x reader #gojo series

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heenuna · 3 years

Text

are you feeling good?

pairing: reader x idol!jake

genre: idol au, oneshot

warnings: smut, worshipping

word count: 1.4+

tag list: @laxatives4hre @wntrsgf @sweetiehyuka @jngsngie @wakeyjaykey @fallinforgyu @moonxchan @axartia 🖤

wriggling again and again, jake seems somewhat lost in the sensation and, completely forgetting where you are, lets out a loud, pleasure-filled sigh from his lungs. his cheeks, covered with a bright blush, betray him completely: he likes everything that you do with him.

you, on the other hand, can't take your eyes off his face, his lips, his furrowed brows. everything about it seems perfect. especially when he opens his needy eyes and looks straight into your soul, holding out both hands to you as if you were a lifeline. like his life depends on you.

and you're flattered.

with one hand, you wrap around his delicate fingers and, without wasting a second, interlock them, fastening you together. your other hand, as it should be, rests on his bare thigh and slowly strokes the soft skin with the warm pad of your thumb. so soft. you smile contentedly when he goes limp, relaxed and content, lets his guard down, and just savours the moment, smiling as wide as his full lips allow.

he is so beautiful.

"are you feeling good?" a seemingly simple question leads jake into a dead end, and he thinks about it for a while.

his abs and sides clench every now and then, and he stiffens a little as you move your hand up and down over his hot skin. as you draw patterns on his thigh with your fingernails, you almost forget about the whole world, admiring and enjoying the time that you can share with each other like lovers.

"yes, please touch me," a plaintive plea escaping from the tip of his tongue makes your heart beat a bit faster, his words are your order and your law, and so you obey. sliding your palm down, right where he needs you most, you wrap around the wet, veined skin and begin to slowly, tiresomely sweetly stroke it again and again, up and down, in a steady pace. clumps of translucent liquid form between your fingers, but you ignore them, concentrating on his expression.

he is distorted by pleasure, you know that much for sure. the way his lips spread in a smile when you gently run your hand over the aroused and leaking tip; the way he frowns when you squeeze the base a little; all your actions draw him like a brush. you are an artist of his sensations.

and only you can decide how the picture of his pleasure will come out. you can speed up right now and add gentle touches of passion and desire to him, you can slow down and add a touch of impatience, you can pull back and let him choose for himself what will be the next step. either way, you don't know if he's in charge or you are, and it doesn't matter.

"p-please hurry," he slurps out sentences slowly, trying to breathe. his whole body, stiff and tense, shatters into a million

pieces with each new wave of satisfaction, and he can't put himself back together, he's broken and satisfied. the movement of your hand accelerates, the moisture only increases, bringing with it a squelching sound.

"are you feeling good?" you ask this question over and over, but jake doesn't answer. he struggles to form letters into words, but it's just a jumble of sounds and sighs, and you have to slow down to give him a chance to respond. you need an answer. you want to hear it.

"are you feeling good?"

"yes.."

"yes what?"

"i feel really good, _____.." jake looks up at you from behind half-closed eyes and smiles, so happy and bright. his hair is disheveled and plastered to his forehead, which is covered with a thin layer of sweat. he blows on it, trying to remove the strands, but it doesn't work, so you have to let go of his hand for a while and help him. his bare forehead looks so beautiful..

and jake, nuzzling into your hand, looks pretty, too.

"____, i wanna cum so bad, can i?"

you smile involuntarily, nodding your head, and his own smile, like a reflection in a mirror, instantly appears on his face. the movement of your hand is fast and confident, rhythmic and steady. jake is lost in the sensations again.

"you're so beautiful, i always want to look at you.."

"please just look at me.."jake whispers, barely moving his lips, as you, already tired, continue to accelerate again and again. your fingers are numb, your muscles are almost stiffen up, but you keep going, you can't stop, not now.

"j-just look at me, w-when.." he cuts the sentence in the middle, filling the room with more moans, and you're only happy about it, "..w-we're on stage, l-look at me, only me.."

"i always look only at you, baby, only at you."

jake rolls his eyes, burying his face in your palm even more, and you smile, stroking his cheek while your other hand is busy with more important things. his stomach, already covered in clear drops, beckons to you, and you don't know whether to give in to the desire or not. it's so beautiful.

it's only a few moments later that you decide it's either now or never again in this life, so you lean right in and gently wrap your lips around the sensitive tip. jake immediately responses to you, his chest stifled a groan, "oh gosh.."

he tastes salty, a little bitter, but you're too caught up in the idea of doing something nice for him, so you just relax your throat and go down, covering the entire length with sticky, hot saliva. jake's hips involuntarily push forward, brushing against your throat, and you have to muster all your strength not to gag. it is worth controlling him.

settling more comfortably on your stomach, you wrap your arms around his legs and, spreading them even more, fix them with a strong grip. they finally stop tremblimg, and you can start moving slowly, tracing each vein with the tip of your tongue.

his hands instinctively find your hands and lie on top of them, squeezing them. he needs you so much, how sweet.

"____, i-i'm so glad.." the series of moans increases as you press your lips together harder, lift your head up and, with a distinctive sound, pull away from him to start covering the tip with sucking kisses, "s-so glad you're here.."

you smile at him, but he doesn't look back at you, squeezing his eyes as hard as possible. so cute. so gentle. and now, fortunately, only yours.

"and i'm glad you're here, kitten," you whisper, kissing his tip once more before taking it in your mouth again and starting to run it quickly up and down the shaft. with each new movement, you feel more precum on your tongue, that's a nice sign. you're speeding up.

"____, i'm gonna.." his back arches even more, and you can feel the entire length of him tremble violently. he is close. and that's great. soon enough, you pull your head back and smile as you squeeze him between your fingers again, harder and firmer this time. your saliva mixes with his juices, sticks between your fingers, dries, leaving behind an unpleasant feeling, but this is not a hindrance.

his hot, viscous cum flows in large clots down his stomach, leaving thin trails behind. so beautiful.

"do it for me, jakie, do it just for me," you whisper it like a mantra, and jake can't help but bend to your will. a couple more jerks, a couple more contractions, and he breaks up into billions of tiny stars.

"d-damn.." he can only breathe deeply, trying to recover, but his brain has shut down and does not want to work, staying foggy. he doesn't notice how you deftly reach for the napkins and remove the remnants of your fun, how you carefully and gently put on his underwear and trousers removed in a fit of passion. he's so lost in bliss that he doesn't notice anything, not even your warm lips raining kisses on his chest and stomach, not even your praises made just for him.

"my wonderful boy, so talented at everything," word-kiss-word-kiss, this rhythm continues until jake comes to his senses and wraps his arms around you, snuggling up to you like a lifeline, like something so important and precious.

like you're his salvation.

"thank you, ____, it was so cool, i went to heaven.." his lips leave a warm trail on your forehead, and you just smile, kissing his neck in return.

"are you all right?"

"only when you're around."

#jake x reader #jake/reader #enhypen smut #enhypen hard hours #jake smut #kpop smut #enhypen fanfiction #jake fanfiction #enhypen fanfic #jake fanfic #jake x y/n #jake x you #sub idol #sub!idol #dom reader #dom!reader #sub jake #sub!jake

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jcryptid · 2 years

Text

The Magnus (fic rec) Archives

This one has been literally years in the making and a true testiment to the power of hyperfixation and what I could maybe do if my brain decided something like graduating highschool was actually really interesting.

I'm sure my fic preferences will be made very much clear as you read this, so do keep in mind said preferences might not allign with yours. I have included a lot of Whump, H/C and angst in my list, so if you're not into that sort of thing, that's fine, have a nice day. I've also got some content warnings in my descriptions as well for the more... intense....whump?... yeah let's go with that.

(Most are all Jmart, but there's some JonTim, some LonelyEyes on the side, and the occassional OG archivist squad polyamory, anything tagged as Jon/Elias is 100% in some kind of whump scenario)

Rec list and key under the cut (^o^)/

Key:

Bold = 11/10 fic, very much had me thinking about if for way longer than I should have, recommending it way too many times than is necessary and pretty regularly rereading it

Purple italics = didn't quite have the same earth shattering effect as the bold fics, but very much worth a read all the same

Plain text = it's up there fam, but not quite on the same level as the purple italics or bold fics

The garden of forking paths - by bibliocratic

After killing Elias and presumably setting the world back the way it was Jon and Martin find themselves falling through the doors of the distortion, holding each other tight and doing everything they can to not let go. It's only when Jon wakes up later to an archivist named Sasha and the Tim he used to know waving an axe in his face that he realizes that wherever somewhere else was, he came through alone.

First fic I ever read for TMA that I connected with really, written midway through season 5 so we pretty much ignore any canon ending, but I don’t think any of us are particularly complaining about that one considering the sheer amount of fix its. (Completed)

Out There, Somewhere - Artyphex

Jon wakes up, blind and alone and bleeding out having been spat out of the crack between realities after the end of the world and now finds himself alone, alone and in pain, entirely alone in a way he's never felt before, in a world that is not his with no one he knows and loves beside him. And he is left to search, with unseeing eyes and shaking words for the one person he needs to know is okay. (Completed)

They keep trying to row away (series) - by assigned_Jon_Kin_Again (sparrow0), blackwood (transjon), radula (stickpenalties), screechfox, skvadern

Body horror mermaid fic that breaks my heart in the best way, feat. Archivist Sasha and maybe a polyamory between the 4 main archivist crew? Either way a hurt/comfort mermaid fic that I can't stop coming back to. If you're a big fan of Whump and excessive angst with the sweat relief of comfort this is the fic for you, but please for the love of god pay attention to the Trigger Warnings. (Series complete)

Family, Found - Dribblescribbles

Basira was there for the unknowing, she was there when Elias told them all to their faces that he was a bastard who was using them for something none of them could understand, and ever since the unknowing she's been doing whatever she could, taking whatever scraps of investigations she could to find the answers. And of all the people it had to be Helen who helped her figure it out. Because Jon is not a monster, but the Web and the Eye are doing their damn best to make him one, and she's going to make sure that the others working for the archives aren't doing the same. (One Shot)

My witness brings me Into existence - by driflew

A take on Not!Jon au with an exploration on what happens if he comes back and the experiences he has to deal with as someone who cannot be physically remembered but still wants to help out Sasha and the others, even if Elias, the one person who seems to know him, won't let him.

This one has me feeling a lot of things, currently existing as just a One shot but I'm still crossing my fingers from some extra additions to the series, and boy does this one have me coming back on the regular. (Completed fic, Series ongoing)

Not a Second Thought - by i_can_do_fics

An alternate take on Not!Jon, specifically involving the web instead of the stranger. Where people aren't replaced, but thin unseeable strings of spider silk force his hand and his tongue and his body in no way he can resist. And after everything that'd happened since this all started, he's not quite sure it's a bad thing. (One shot)

Miles to Go before I sleep - by AuralQueer

Sleep Dep. Hurt Comfort Set S4, feat. A Jon who is putting himself through way too much crap but honestly that's just par for the course. (One shot)

Beastly Behavior - by Prim_the_Amazing

Martin is a man struck by a curse, a curse that is vindictive and cruel and cast by someone he will always love despite everything she's done to him. Jon is a man on the run from a monster of his own, a man with all the power in the world to take everything he has left of himself for his own entertainment. Two men with two tasks, a mother and a grandmother, both dying in their beds and both losing a part of their freedom and themselves trying to save them. Both terrified of the world they live in, of the person they grow to love, of the people they may be becoming.

A Beauty and the Beast au with a bit of a twist, and a happy ending well worth the wait. (Completed)

The Sea Calls Me Home - mothjons

Martin Blackwood takes a job at Peter Lukas's estate in exchange for his mother's care and

their housing for his service. It's not a pretty job, it's not anything Martin would have picked for himself but nothing he'd had ever would be and he's resigned himself to that fact, no matter how much it hurts. And then he meets a strange man by the sea, and god knows all the secrets and the pain of loving someone is the one choice he knows for certain he'd never give up.

Not going to lie this one had by ugly crying by the end. A great and honestly very angsty take on Mer Jon x Martin but also set during the height of WWI and I promise you there is of course a happy ending they both deserve. (Complete)

Head in the Lion's Mouth - by renwhit

Au where Danny is alive, damaged goods but alive. So when a certain archivist, possibly delirious and in pain, narrows his eyes and tells him he looks familiar in a way the other uncanny circus members don't, it sparks something in him he can't explain and for the first time in over a decade the ringmaster has a name. (Series is ongoing)

Maybe they'll leave you alone, but not me - by ghostfrog

A cute ongoing fic where Jon becomes a teacher after Martin singlehandedly stops the apocalypse at the end of S4, and because they're both trying to move on with their lives Jon becomes an English teacher for a local school, where he has a class that are a bit too observant, and maybe just a bit too into cryptids.

There Are Monsters In These Woods - by DoilySpider

Once upon a time there was a prince of a kingdom named blackwood, with a wicked stepfather who wanted him dead. One day the prince asked his stepfather what he could do to claim the crown that they both knew was rightfully his, and the stepfather told him that a king must be brave, and to prove it he must then slay the beast of eyes.

Once upon a time there was a man named Jonathan Sims, a man who sought whatever knowledge and magic it would take to be able to protect those he loved from the monsters that took everything from him; and so he went to see the Mage Magnus, who would only be making him just one more.

Dark Fairytale au? Well that's what you get I suppose when the fandom is based around a horror podcast. All I can say really is that I love the world-building on this one, and the writing, featuring a happily ever after we all know they all deserve and some Jon/Martin/Tim/Gerry Polyamory. (Complete)

A Weather In The Flesh - by cuttooth

An emotionally devastating one shot about touch starvation that may or may not have made me feel a lot of things (One shot)

One of these birds, is not my bird - by updownandsideways

Just a good ol' Not Jon fic, a bit predictable in places but the gist is Jon is taken by the Not Them and Martin's feeling a bit different about Jon since he got back from the Prentiss incident, it's only when he re-reads some of his old poetry that he finds out why. (Complete)

Thresholds (series) - by bubonickitten

At the precipice of finding out he's changing into something inhuman, Elias decides to give Jon a push, with the perfect bit of information to leave him a wreck, and makes him know the story of a young man he remembers all too clearly being taken by dear old Mr. Spider. (Complete)

Chamomile - Dribbledscribbles

Chamomile is a mischievous little creature who finds its delight in seeing how many times they can give the people in this safe house a heart attack. It's attempts on Martin have been successful to a fault, pushing him as far as it can to scare the living daylights out of him before he comes at him with a broom and scuttling away before he can come close. It's a fun game they have, but when they try it on Jon it just doesn't work. It's not fun, because Jon lets it win, Jon names it, Jon gives him cuddles and lets it rest on his shoulder, and this little creature is rather determined not to give up.

Aka a cute fluff fic where Jon and Martin are living in their cottage in Scotland and end up adopting a few of the spookier residents. (Completed)

Go softly - by doomcountry

Martin brings home a jug of bleach, sets it on the counter with an eyedropper for when Jon is ready, and even if both of them know it will hurt, that is has to be done, but no matter what they are going to get through this together.

TW for eye mutilation (Oneshot)

Terror Management Theory - by prismatical

Jonathan sims was eaten by a spider when he was eight, he died, but then he came back. Since then Jon has a very interesting relationship with death, one that terrifies him more than anything else, more than any other fear, and it's going to take a hell of a lot to earn his right to death back. (Completed)

Nature has taught her creatures to hate - thepolysyndetonaddictsupportgroup

Many times Jon has tried to run, sometimes it even worked, sometimes he got barely made it out alive at the end of the day, but it never worked when he was running from the Magnus institute, from James Wright or Elias Bouchard, or from the horrors that have never let him go since he was eight and stupid enough to pick up that damn book. The powers that be had taken him as a child, wrapped him in tight cobwebs of contracts and kidnappings and under a bruising hand on his shoulder that guided him down the path of inhumanity no matter how hard he tried to run. And even now, when he's failed again and facing losing another of a short line of close connections to the curse that is the Magnus institute, he can't back out.

NGL this one is depressing at times, but it kept my eyes glued to the screen it was so thrilling. Featuring a Jon who was chased to the Magnus institute by a book and a boy overflowing with spiders, and then claimed by something even worse, lots of child abuse and Elias being a manipulative bastard. (Ongoing)

Reflection - by LazuliQuetzal

There's something haunting Jonathan sims, something that looks just like him, but different all the same. Something inhuman that he cannot allow himself to trust, no matter what it says or claims to know about him. Something that keeps telling him with every moment they have to stay away from the archives, no matter what.

Meanwhile, Jonathan Sims, the monster and remnant of a ruined world, is rapidly forced to reconcile with living in the past as something no one is able to see or even notice as anything out of the ordinary, not even with the power of the eye behind them, and as fun as getting some small sense gratification from being petty and messing with Jonah as much as he can, the only person he can really talk to is quite literally himself.

And he's a fucking idiot.

This fic is great if you just want a little giggle and some catharsis. Pending alternate title is currently tied between "Two Jons in an archive, what will he do?" and "Jon would be the first person to tell you that he is absolutely insufferable". (complete)

See the Line where the Sky meets the Sea - by The_Floating_World

Jon has always had a fascination with things vastly incomprehensible, staring out from a dock out at the ocean and marveling at the infinity of everything before him. How the sky can be perfectly reflected in the ocean, how everything is endless and so vast in such a beautiful way, and I need not tell you that fears have never been loved in the way Jon loves infinity. After a probably not so chance encounter with Simon Fairchild, Jonathan Sims begins his slow evolution to becoming as an avatar of the vast, but he's different in a way the others aren't. Asking questions with no answer and living on that threshold between the vast and unknowable and madness in a way the other's haven't seen before, and by virtue of his own strangeness, even in the face of the other avatars, he is known as the philosopher, a man who isn't a man that seems content to hide just how powerful he really is.

At least until he makes some friends of his own and they come under threat. (Complete)

Starving Gods - by sevansa

Jon is in a really, really bad place when he decides to go through with it, knowing with a certainty his future doesn't have that if he were to follow in the footsteps of Eric Delano, he wasn't going to allow himself the luxury of a chance to back out, not with so many victims at stake.

Needless to say the shock of finding Jon in his office like that, unconscious and mutilated is something none of them will ever forget.

TW eye mutilation but you already knew that, first fic i the series is complete, but the sequel is still ongoing.

The Unknown Watcher - by authureameslove

Martin knows the rules as well as anyone else. You do not stay out past dark, not for anything, lest you fall prey to monsters and madness more potent than any ghost story or relentless creature cooked up by gods bigger than anyone could have imagined. So on a dark night, chased by monsters a plenty and his own stupid decision to chance it Martin Blackwood stumbles upon an estate filled with its own monstrosities. Two killers stalking the woods that weren't there before, a stranger in the night, two who cannot leave lest they be unmade with wooden splinters where there should be skin, and a man with two glowing green eyes and a face that no one can see. Each with their own stories to tell, each bound to this place by powers out of their control and choices they have made and each playing their own part in the end of both themselves and the world.

And of all things, they seem to think that Martin just might be the only one who can save them.

Inspired loosely on Beauty and the Beast with its own unique and captivating TMA Spin, this fic had be glued to my seat in anticipation, and I highly recommend it to anyone who enjoys tales of vengeance, Jmartin and that classic ghost story style mystery. (Complete)

Déjà Vu - CirrusGrey

What do you even do with yourself when you are given a second chance? What does it mean to truly feel your death, being unmade or destroyed or unwound or stabbed through the heart by the man you love, and waking up alone long before you would have come to know any of it. Remembering everything, every pain, every choice that led to it and everything that you can't bring yourself to believe hasn't happened yet, and to do so all alone?

Sasha James was unmade, Tim Stoker was destroyed, Martin was unwound, and Jon was stabbed through the heart by his love. They all woke up alone on a day long before even the thought of Prentiss would touch them, and they all think they're the only one.

The Watcher's Bargain - arthureameslove

Fae au says what?

Martin hadn't known freedom since he was a child, when the witch Mary Blackwood took him in and bound him with silver threads and promises. So when she lays sick and dying in their house he makes a bargain with her. The Death's book of names and her life in return for his freedom. He should have known stealing from the Fae would have consequences beyond death, should have known the witch would have been vindictive enough to only allow him to leave her if it meant trading one prison for another, and this time, surrounded by the high court of the Panopticon, with Fae and tortured humans in chains, bound to one who speaks in half-truths and secrets, hope has never been so far from his eyes.

At least that is, until the fae proposes a bargain of his own. (Ongoing)

This Lonely Knight - arthureameslove

Martin doesn't remember why or how he came to join the knights of the Lonely, nor does he remember any of a life before that point. Like the many other heartless knights he cast away his memories and the pain they carried with them with his choice and that was just the way it was. It's not until he's sent to escort a strange man from the beholding to be the Watcher's betrothed that he begins to find what he'd been missing, what being of the Lonely had kept him from, and more importantly that he can't go through with his suicidal mission to see the death of his charge.

Honestly, this is classic fairytale knight and royal in an arranged marriage romance but with another perfect Magnus Archives twist from arthureameslove. (Complete)

What Belongs to the Sea - TwoDrunkenCelestials, WhyNotFly

When Jon first meets Elias he's dry as a bone and still smelling of thick salt with wild hair, knocking on his door with fury in his eyes and blood roaring in his veins as he demands back his stolen skin. For all his grandmother's warnings though, he still ends up in a gilded cage of his own making. Soon Jon, against his better judgement and consent is swept up into the path of the unblinking, newlywed and bound by powerful magic and paraded around in ceremony and unfeeling shows of affection and control. It's only after an admittedly prickly encounter with Martin, that he begins to hope.

TW there is abuse here, and alot of iron burns (Complete)

The Path of Least Resistance - chermit

Martin, Sasha and Tim go into what they think will be a normal day of work in 2016, and it is anything but. They arrive to find a crime scene, swamped with police officers there to inform them plainly that everyone in the institute is dead, except for them. Elias in his office clutching his head as if in pain, Jon shot three times in the chest with an empty look in his eyes and the rest of them from apparent cardiac arrest. Needless to say they want answers, they want justice, and if it means involving themselves in a world of monsters and fear a mysterious someone had tried so hard to keep them safe from, then so be it. (Ongoing)

The Sweetest Thing - JoyHeart

Martin has always been warned away from humans, his mother took great pains to plant that fear firmly within long before she and all of Selkie kind seemed to turn their backs on him. It isn't until he's rescued from some particularly nasty flesh worms by the Magnus Institute for Oceanic Research and Rescue that he finds an alternate perspective. Unfortunately, even if he doesn't yield his form, Martin's about to find that humans have more than one way of keeping a selkie under their grasp, even if completely unintentionally.

A martin selkie au that had me cackling, in suspense and squealing with just the right amount of fluff (for my tastes at least) featuring Marine Biologist Jon who's just as insufferable when it comes to his skepticism as he is incredibly sweet. (complete)

Heavy angst and whump warning for the sequel (which is ongoing)

A deeply annoying child - ajkal2

A oneshot (that I will defend until my dying breath) where Jon reads a Leitner that turns him into his 8 year old self right after his encounter with Mr Spider and Tim is there to help him pick of the pieces. (Oneshot)

Antigonish - softlyblue

Martin inherits an the Blackwood house from a woman he's never heard of sharing his last name and very quickly finds it inhabited by something trying to kill him, something that is not the four friendlier ghosts that inhabit the place, and something that goes a hell of a lot deeper than cold spots and whispers in the night. It's not so much a choice then to call in the cavalry when a portion of the very well-built roof tries to crush him for the third time in a row, so he sends a reluctant email to three ghost hunters under Basira's recommendation, with one of which being a man reportedly most adept of seeing and reaching out to things that are not there. (Complete)

The Reverb in These Holy Halls - Wolftraps (AlwaysBoth)

After a distinctly unwell day at work Jonathan Sims comes to awareness and marches in to the archives without so much as a word and declares himself to Elias and Martin both as the new head archivist. A lot of people are confused by this, a lot of people suspect Jon of murdering Gertrude and a lot of people want to know what the hell is going on with him. With a bargain made, and an eye and a Spider in his heart Jonathan Sims is going to save the world, and this time he's going to do it right.

Very generic premise of a Timetravel TMA fix it but it comes with some added flavor thanks to some clever writing from the author/s.

Two Graves - SupposedToBeWriting

In saving the world singlehandedly Jonathan Sims honestly thought he was going to die, so it was more than a surprise when he didn't, and even more than his plan actually worked. Now, with nothing but the remnants of fear and a broken heart he flees London, along with everything and everyone to do with the Magnus institute, but quickly finds himself a new purpose with a garden and connection to some avatars who need some help finding themselves after their patron's disappearance.

And then his world shatters when Martin and Basira finally manage to track him down.

This one got me through a particularly rough patch, a fic about reconciliation after the end of the world was... well, ended, and about reconnecting and forgiving the ones you love. TW for some implied sucidal thoughts and ideation. (completed)

The Archivist and the Adventurer (series) - paperdream

There are few things for a human that is worse than to be considered lovely by the Fae, and that is a lesson Jon, like so many things, had to learn the hard way. Ensnared by the wild hunt and bound to the high fae Elias and forcibly changed by the Mother of Spiders, all Jon has left to hold on to is his name, spending his days confined to the Archives to serve and be subject to the whims of the fae, whatever they may be. At least that is, until he finds his solace in helping an adventurer escape the cruelty of the fae unscathed, no matter how foolish he may be. (Ongoing)

Auspex (Series) - faridsgwi

(Victorian AU) The year is 1841, and Jonah Magnus is ready to begin building his archive in London. Now it's just a manner of going to the workhouse to find a child that won't be missed to serve as his repository.

Highly recommended au for you guys, as of now it's still ongoing but my god is it keeping my rapt attention in hopes for updates to the series. Featuring our good old Victorian asshole and resident child abuser Jonah Magnus, as he builds up his new archive and apprentice Jonathan Sims in preparation for his uses. Assistants will be traumatized, friends will be made along the way, and as always remember the apocalypse is always much closer than you think. (Ongoing)

The Kindness of Strangers - theOestofOCs

What's that saying? That Hindsight is 20/20? After a rather delicately arranged meeting in eye neutral terf (read as not in the institute) on Tim's request, Jon is finally able to get the chance to really talk to Tim since… well everything. So when the two find themselves snagged by Breekon and Hope and handed over to Nikola Orsinov, let's just say Tim being in the wrong place at the wrong time was the least of their worries.

Content warning for disassociation, forced nudity and non-consensual touching (not sexual), this one is heavy on the angst, but if you, like me, really wanted Jon and Tim to get the chance to actually reconcile before the unknowing, and love seeing Tim's protective older brother side, then this is the fic for you. (Completed)

Stag Story - With_the_Wolves

Stag's are notoriously hard to capture in the wild, using magic to flee and disappear before any bullet comes close to touching them. As a results hunts are often drawn out and tedious in search of trophies, and notoriously difficult to pull of successfully, at least until one of the most respected of the Hunter's alliance, Elias, comes up with something of a solution.

A solution he keeps under lock and key and threat of iron burns and torture should he disobey. His precious bait stag, cowed and shaped to his will, and he's going to use him to finally kill the Beast of the Northern Forest. (Oneshot)

The Fates Design - theOestofOCs

Kept hidden, starving and without any memory of a time before Elias saved him, the Archive had resigned himself to a life under his care and in his service. He was the Archive after all, a danger to himself and the world, this was what he was for.

So when a thief climbs in through the window of his tower, and gives him a story to ease the pain of hunger and asks him to come with him, at least until Elias's return, he accepts. The want for the pain to end winning out over the safety of his tower and unfortunately, the knowledge that this is where he should be for the safety of the realm.

And then he meets a ginger haired man he couldn't be sure he'd only ever seen in his dreams, and things change.

Alternately titled by the author as the Tmagled au (which I absolutely love), this one puts a really intriguing TMA twist on the classic Rapunzel set up, with some added mystery that had me desperate for more.

As it stands it is still ongoing, and pretty new, but as of posting this has actually been updated fairly recently.

The Lives We've Shared - The OestofOCs

Jon finds something he shouldn't have, something someone took great lengths to keep hidden, and something Elias Bouchard doesn't want him listening to. A tape from Gertrude, hidden below a loose floorboard in his office, speaking with certainty of death and leaving a warning for her successor.

Needless to say Elias will do anything to make sure a secret like that doesn't come to light, so after a short flick of a blade across his throat, all he needs to do is clean up as much of the blood from the office as he can and start again with one of his assistants.

What no one accounted for though, was Jon coming back.

Completed fic where Jon dies and comes back as a ghost, with the single goal to protect his people as much as he can from Elias and others like him.

Fold, Fallow and Plough - theOestofOCs

Jon is a marine conservationist researcher, so when he sees the net squirming and rolling on the beach with something impossible inside, he does what he always has and cuts it free, regardless of any praise or recognition he might have gotten from the discovery.

So when the head of the Magnus institute of Marine discovery arrives moments later, fuming and demanding to know what happened to his catch, Jon certainly isn't going to apologize for doing the right thing. No matter what earning the man's ire might bring upon himself.

He just… he didn't expect this.

Have I mentioned I'm a big fan of Mermaid Body Horror? TW for abuse, non-consensual body modification and a lot of whump, featuring Mer Tim, Danny and Sasha as they try to walk their unexpected charge through a new life under the waves, as others above continue to search for the missing researcher. (Ongoing)

Darkling I listen (half in love) - theOestofOCs

Jon had never had a good feeling about their newest client Jonah Magnus, but it's not until he sees him one night crawling down the side of his castle with spiderlike grace that he truly comes to realize he's not human, and Martin needs to survive this. So, throwing caution to the wind and what he knows has to be all sense with it, he makes a deal with Magnus. Martin will be sent back to London under the guise that Jon will be continuing their work here, and Jon's life is forfeit.

But Magnus has far greater plans for his new pet, and no intention of letting him go that easily.

If you're me and you've read the original Dracula by Bram Stoker this is one hell of a treat. Just the right amount of TMA and Dracula plot points with some very well written body horror as Jonathan finds himself slowly turning into a creature of the night. (Ongoing)

The Archivist's Moving Castle - Hallali

In a world full of magic and monsters a plenty, Martin's life on its own has thus far been profoundly uninteresting. But dreaming of adventure in the hills was never a way to stay safe, and Martin has always been quietly content, if a fair bit lonely, tending to the town's library under the employ of one Peter Lukas. At least, that is, until a strange man full of magic of his own seeks his sanctuary and promises to help him escape, a hope Martin can at least hold onto for now even as his world twists beyond the limits of what he thought possible and he is cursed and forced to flee before Jon could even have the chance to return. Which is all well and good he could suppose, he needed to get out anyway, he just wished there were less monsters trying to kill him involved. (Ongoing)

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