#th: bad decision

[oswaldxmarks]

Bad Decisions || Shadow on the Moon

Characters: Oswald Marks, Menodora Butterfly-Johansen @menodoramoon Date: 2 October, 2024 Summary: Moon asks Oswald over to discuss and end the affair. Content Warning: Depression, Self-loathing, Maladaptive Coping, (Vague) Suicidal Ideation, Adultery/Infidelity, insect mention (a pretty constant thing with Oswald tbh), swynsmut Read here on Ellipsus or under the cut **this one is somehow longer than the last, at a whopping 20k words**

🪲—Oswald Marks—🪲

He hadn't really expected the 'we need to talk.' text from Moon. It had been a bit, and he honestly thought she would just never bring it up again. Sweep it under the rug and smile like everything was fine like she seemed to do with everything else in her life.

Oswald had enjoyed their last visit to Moon's. Ozzy enjoyed it too. Maybe more--in a different way, of course. Oswald remembers getting back into his apartment, and as soon as the door was shut, the shadows were down his arms and he could hear the sounds of insects echoing in his head. He stayed conscious a little longer this time, saw a few more of Ozzy's actions. Almost like he was practicing. Seeing what abilities he could call on. Seeing how far he could push Oswald's body with his powers. Until Oz found himself no longer present in the moment and would wake up hours later when all his energy and Ozzy's had been spent.

Oswald would tentatively try to suggest storing the power they gathered from the sins since they didn't have a constant influx of them anymore. Ozzy would wave him off and tell him he had no idea what he was talking about. That it wasn't his place to comment on how Ozzy used the power. He would go on about how it was helping them--both of them. And then he would wake up more and the line would blur again. Ozzy would just become another part of him, the voice that narrated his thoughts, his subconscious mind.

Oz waited a little longer than he had the last time Moon had texted him to come over. He didn't want to seem too eager or anything--not that this was that kind of message. It was early evening when he stopped by, knocking lightly on her door.

🦋—Menodora Butterfly-Johansen—🦋

'We need to talk.'

Simple text. Just to talk. Neighbor to neighbor... About a thing that happened... That should never have happened.

Menodora hoped that they could let it go. But... An affair was nothing that she could easily let go.

Actually, it had been eating her up from the inside. Devouring her nerves slowly...

She needed it addressed... Their addresses... Down the hall.

Her mind drifts for a moment..

No, what she needed was to be able to stop thinking. About this, about everything.

Moon needed things to go back to as close to normal as they could. As close to normal as she could patch up. No more sobbing and crying to her neighbor about things that didn't concern him. No more being oblivious to his obvious flirtations. No more giving in to younger men's pretty words.

She was going to fix this somehow. Starting with just a talk to stop this.

So… Hair half-pinned back. Blouse, buttoned. Tucked in. Cardigan. Skirt...

Moon could do this. She waits half the day for Oswald to text her back. Or knock. Or call her.

It ends up being the knock. And with that, she pads lightly to the door and opens it, with a formal smile as a pleasant greeting. She steps aside, allowing him in, before shutting it behind him and immediately going to get them drinks from the kitchen.

This was going to go as smoothly as possible. She's willing that to be the case.

"It's a bit early for cider," Moon says pleasantly, "but I knew you liked autumn so I knew I had to come up with something. I thought of blood orange spritzes."

🪲—Oswald Marks—🪲

She opens the door with a pleasant smile. He returns it as he enters, his hands clasped behind his back. So far she’s going with the pretending nothing has happened attitude which, fine. Denial is a popular coping mechanism. The guilt and shame has been eating away at her insides, though. That much he can tell.

“Sounds wonderful,” he replies, slipping off his shoes, watching her go to the kitchen. So far everything felt familiar, them coming over for drinks, Menodora playing hostess.

He doesn’t follow her to the kitchen, though. Give her space, he thinks. So instead, Oz goes to sit on the sofa. Waiting patiently for her.

“Sounds like you’re fully stocked up on drink ingredients,” Oz calls, trying to make conversation. “You make me feel like I’ve gotta step up my game.”

🦋—Menodora Butterfly-Johansen—🦋

She could do this. End things. Or end this line of thinking...

Moon brings them the drinks, fancy glasses and all. Everything about the environment is meant to be cozy. It's meant to inspire comfort in a way that was more friendly or familial. Less of anything else.

"I hope you like it," Moon says. "I just happen to accumulate a lot of ideas, which means accumulating a lot of ingredients. It's executing the ideas that's the tricky part. If you know what you like, then there's no need to go all out."

Moon's glad she does that. Impulsively buys ingredients... If she didn't, she'd have nothing to serve. She hasn't left her apartment and she was struggling to find an autumn drink.

"Anyhow," she says, sitting a respectable distance away. "I suppose we need to talk about what happened the other day."

🪲—Oswald Marks—🪲

He smiles as she brings out the drinks, thanking her as it's handed to him.

"It sounds good and looks even better," they say, taking a sip. It is good, they do have to admit. "Well so far every idea I've tried from you has been executed perfectly."

Oswald watches as she sits. She supposes they need to. Had she finally come to her senses? Maybe a bit. Maybe just enough to know it needed to be addressed.

"I suppose we do," he replies, setting his drink down, shifting to face her. "Which part would you like to discuss?" there's the start of a grin at the corner of his mouth. Obviously he knows, but he wonders how she'll phrase it. He wonders what about that she could possibly need to discuss--the aftermath, probably. The consequences. Or perhaps the thing most present on her mind was how she kissed him when it was all said and done. It was little things like that people tended to focus on more, he's realized.

And for the most part, Oswald has an idea of how this conversation will go. Still, he's curious to hear what she has to say.

🦋—Menodora Butterfly-Johansen—🦋

Which part?

Wasn't there only one part of this, at least worthy of talking about? She looks slightly confused when asked.

The fact that she participated in an action she should not have participated in was enough, wasn't it?

It was her fault, after all. She was the one who had failed River. It wasn't as if Oswald was obligated in the same way. He could feel whatever it was that he wanted to feel. She couldn't stop him.

Menodora was the one who is meant to hold up her commitment to River. She needed to just... End this so she could talk to him. Profusely apologize. Deal with the consequences, whatever they might be, of her actions.

Saying it, though, was difficult. Starting the conversation behind the fact that one needed to be had ...

"The part where we had a casual affair?" She says, blushing hard. Though, there are no pink diamonds showing. "What do you mean?"

🪲—Oswald Marks—🪲

She's confused, then blushing. A casual affair.

"Ah," he nods, "Oh, I figured it was about that. I just wasn't sure if it was about it as a whole or a specific part." He leans an arm casually against the back of the couch.\

"But, yes. That. What is it you wanted to talk about with it?" Oz asks. "Just the fact that it happened? Because, yes, it did." And there's nothing they can do to change that. "Or, sorry, I'll stop asking questions and I'll just let you talk. How rude of me." He picks up his drink, taking another sip. All of this is casual to him, it seems. This conversation. The affair. Was it really an affair to him? He supposes he would be implicated as the affair partner.

"Please, say your piece; I promise I won't interrupt."

🦋—Menodora Butterfly-Johansen—🦋

Why make her say it, then? Moon frowns, slightly. Only slightly. This needed to go well. She really didn't want to feud with her neighbor, and she really wanted this over with. A proper ending that is properly over.

"The fact that it happened?" Moon says, still not sure what it is she should be clarifying. "I mean, yes. Yes, it did. I suppose I just want to address the whole thing?" It's a hazarded guess, because she's trying to put the right words together and is failing.

She had practiced scenarios of questions to herself, including possible things Oswald might ask. It turned out it was for nothing, apparently, seeing as Moon was stuck with the first question she didn't plan for. And a very easy one at that.

"Listen, Oz, I just think... It was my fault. Alright?" She takes a deep breath, trying to say what she rehearsed and getting lost along the way, "You're very charming and it was very kind of you to try to help -- and you did, for a moment -- but I'm married and I can't do that again. I don't know what I'm going to tell my husband, or how. But I just--... we can't. Thank you so much, I know you offered it at anytime, but we just shouldn't."

🪲—Oswald Marks—🪲

He nods. The whole thing made sense. He can see why she’d want to talk about it.

She’s clearly trying her best. It almost seems like it’s hard for her. Because it’s awkward? Or something else.

She calls him Oz again, he notes. Before it was always Oswald. Always so formal. But they’re well past formalities now. She’s definitely not saying it all like someone who wants to end it. She says they can’t. They shouldn’t. She thanks him, though. Calls him charming. Says it did in fact help. She also calls him kind for helping, which is a little funny to him. To be called kind for eating her out on the floor. That was definitely a new one.

But do you have to tell him? Really? he thinks. Why tell him anything. Her husband didn’t have to know. And, really, how strong of a relationship could they have. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt wanted by him.

“I get it,” he says with a small nod. “It’s not something we should do. I’m glad that I helped, and I hope in some way I can continue to help.”

Oz drums his fingers against the couch for a moment. “If I’m completely honest though, I will miss it.” A smile, his fingers moving slightly closer to her side of the couch. “Helping you in that sort of way. Really, it was just nice to see you in a way where you weren’t trying to impress. You were just you. Not a portrait of who you’ve been told you should be.”

There’s a moment where his mind drifts, ever so slightly. To who he should have been. To who he never got to be.

Twenty years is a long time. But being twenty is too young to make decisions you’re never allowed to know if you regret.

His attention is back to Moon after less than a second. These thoughts didn’t stay. They weren’t allowed to take purchase in his mind.

“But, regardless, I do want to help you with your troubles. So as I said before, give me a better way to help, and I’ll do it.” Oz grins a little. “Because truly, Menodora, the last thing I want is to hurt you or make you uncomfortable.”

🦋—Menodora Butterfly-Johansen—🦋

She's happy she's said it, happy he understands. That's settled. It's over. she relaxed, goes to take a sip of her drink, only--

Only it's not over.

Oswald mentions that he'll miss it and Moon has to keep a straight face and nod. She takes a sip of her spritz, trying not to let her gaze drift. Only she has to wonder exactly what he means by-- "I'm always me, I don't know who else I would be."

Moon does her best to withhold a frown. It brings up more thoughts for her. More overwhelming feelings for her to be set adrift by... She was always this same person who was rubbish at balancing all these different parts of herself. She went by different titles even, when fulfilling these roles. She needs to be better at bringing them into one. Into herself. Into just. Being. Her....

She's shaken from that repetitive pondering by Oswald's follow up, and she shakes her head. "I really did mean it, Oz. I don't have a better way. I don't know how to ask you to help, or if I should. It's complicated now. It always will be."

🪲—Oswald Marks—🪲

"You are always you," he says. "But sometimes it feels like there different masks you wear, and it's nice seeing you unmasked, so to speak." He shrugs a shoulder. "But, no, you're right. You are always you, and I'm glad to have seen different facets of you. And I'd love to get to know each one better." Countess, mother, wife, neighbor, mess.

Oswald nods slightly. She doesn't know. He doesn't either-- not that he's thought very hard about other options. "I mean, you're not really asking if I'm offering, right?" he says, shifting a little closer to her as he sets his drink down again. "But, yeah. It's definitely complicated..." But you've already done it once--the damage is already done--why not just sink deeper? "But, I mean, what's not complicated in life, right? Everything is complicated if you think too hard about it."

Oswald looks at the table, at his drink. Playing it slightly dejected, but not in an obvious way. Because that's all this is to him, right? A game. "So... if there's really no other way you can think of that I can help you, then what does that mean? We... go back to being strangers who pass each other in the hall sometimes? I don't love the thought of that. Of not being able to come here and try your mixed drinks or baked goods, or to just talk to you about whatever." He glances back to Moon, reaching like he's going to put a hand on her, but thinks better of it, resting it on the couch between them.

"And if that does end up being the case, let me just say. Moving here has been an experience, and you've made it a much better one than it would've been otherwise. You're a very special, beautiful person, Menodora, inside and out. And I hope others--" it's said in a slightly pointed way, specifying one person in particular, but one he wouldn't name just in case bringing him up killed the mood even more-- "appreciate that in you. I hope they see all these different facets too, and appreciate every single one of them. Because I meant it-- you deserve to be wanted."

🦋—Menodora Butterfly-Johansen—🦋

Masks, hats, faces, facets. Whatever it is, it's all these other parts of her that don't ever feel like her. She has to wonder if Oswald does have a point. Is there a version of her hidden under all of that that she doesn't even recognize?

Menodora figures that the person she is when she's with River should be the closest to an unmasked her. However, since being in Swynlake, she wonders if it's the version of her that speaks with Tófi. The one that openly admits her wants and fears and shares history that may have become warped over time. What version of her does Oswald see, besides an absolute disaster of a person.

Things Oswald must think: That there's no way someone like her would have ever been a decent Countess. That there's no way she could ever be a decent mother...

They already know where she stands as a wife.

Moon has to imagine this is what a break up would feel like. No, wrong. that's not good. Moon has to imagine this is what a break up might feel like if the situation was entirely different. This was nothing. This was a one-time mistake between them.

"I don't know," Moon answers honestly. She doesn't think she wants to go back to being strangers, but what is the alternative? Do they stay friends? Friends who, at one point, had an affair? In a way, Moon wonders if being strangers would be better... could she avoid the problem if she avoids him? But when she looks back at him, she realizes that she will miss him, too. Maybe not in the way he says he'll miss it, but she would miss having a friend to talk to. One that already knows the messier side to her life. Cassandra knew... somewhat. It was different. Moon cared so much if Cass thought she had it together. Cass had gushed over Moon's fairytale life... why ruin that?

He reaches for her and her pulse jumps. His hand falls between them and Moon tries to relax a little bit more.

She needs to not be so on edge. Everything was fine.

Oswald explains and Moon tries to keep a neutral ear. She just needs to nod and smile and not feel her heart race when she thinks about the way Oswald says that. The way that it brings River to mind... with both her guilt about what she'd done to him and her frustration about what he'd said to her. And then there's that nearly four year history coming to the surface, with everything that happened with Stella.

Her life had been deteriorating and she'd felt so sorry for everything, so desperate to win River's approval back. She figures he's the level-headed of the two of them, the really level-headed one. Menodora could be overly pragmatic, but that wasn't being truly level-headed. River balanced things well when he needed to. Moon wasn't good at that, obviously.

Still, Moon felt angry sometimes at how small she'd been feeling. How deeply she wanted River to appreciate her back. She had done what she thought was best and River felt it was wrong. And, as selfish as it was, sometimes Moon wishes River would stop trying to defend Stella and just hear what Moon was saying. Did he? Or did he just not care for the magnitude of what was at stake.

He married her, knowing what role she had to fill. Knowing what role she already did. Stella would be much the same, the two of them had talked into the early hours about exact that and---

She's too lost. She looks up, realizing she hasn't said anything. Gods, how long has she sat here, just thinking... What was the last thing Oswald said?

"I'm.... I'm fine," she says, after another moment. Her echoic memory is filling in what it was she was missing. "Thank you, Oz. I'm glad you think so. I think I am," -- (Appreciated, that is) -- ",it's just difficult being long distance. Sometimes those feelings... they can be difficult to translate. I'm sure I was being dramatic before. I'm sure River and I have had some good times recently, it's just hard to remember when all your time is spent away from each other."

🪲—Oswald Marks—🪲

If he did one thing, he at least made her think. Perhaps not about him or what happened between them, but about something. About everything? She’s lost in thought for a moment, maybe two.

She doesn’t know what they’ll do. What they’ll become. His expression is a touch solemn. And there is a bit of him that would be sad to lose having Moon be a constant in their life. Maybe not in a deep sense.

There’s more time she thinks. She claims she’s fine. That she thinks she’s appreciated. They nod.

“I can imagine the long distance makes things complicated. Especially when the one time you get to see him, things don’t go quite as well as you’d hoped.” Oz says with a nod. “Yeah, sure. You must’ve. I mean, I feel like those sorts of moments would stand out more being separated from each other for so long. I can’t imagine having a partner that I only see once every six months or so and that when I do get to see them it’s, well… forgettable. Or painful. That… it sounds damaging.” He shrugs. “But hey, I’ve never had a long distance partner so I guess I don’t really know what that’s like.”

They let out a small sigh, looking out into her apartment for a moment. Thinking. Observing. “It just sounds lonely, and it’s easy to give in to temptations and desires when you’re lonely. Sometimes a soft touch is all you need, and it can hurt worse when the person you want it from most refuses you.” He’s not referring to himself. He’s referring to her and her husband and her uneventful visit. “So I hope you’re right. I hope you have had some good times and that things are fine. Because I really don’t want to see you suffering, Menodora.”

🦋—Menodora Butterfly-Johansen—🦋

Moon's quiet. Oswald comments on the distance of her relationship and Moon just listens. His words strike at insecurities. Moon fidgets.

"Relationships go through phases, Oswald. Sometimes, some rough patches are longer than others. I expect it will get better when I move back. I'm sure the stress of keeping up with the estate by himself is no easy feat."

Moon's trying. She really is. Honestly, she thought this would be easier. She thought she could just bring it up and say it was done and they'd shake hands and forget it.

It's terribly naive of her.

"A long distance partner with a daughter and also a title. Those things make a world of difference."

Oswald looks over the apartment. Moon... Does the same, if not to just evade Oswald's eye. His attention.

She bristles slightly, at the idea of giving in to temptation. Sure, it's something that she did. She didn't like phrasing it that way.

Moon inhales. Looks at her hands.

"Sorry," she murmurs. Though, what for... She doesn't know. And then, because she can't help it, Moon says: "He really is the nicest person. River is. And I know I didn't give you that impression before, only letting you glimpse an argument. He's sweet, he cares. Things have just been tense since I had a falling out with our daughter. It's made everything a bit more tense lately."

Moon laughs a little. Shakes her head. She wasn't going to tell Oswald any of this, but he seemed insistent on helping. And them being strangers again seemed like the least desired scenario...

"It's not our daughter's fault, don't misunderstand me. I understand her frustration too. I just haven't been able to figure out what I'm supposed to do. Star deserves the whole fucking world and River deserves the sky and I can't help think that I just can't be what either of them need. Not just what they want. What they need. I think I'm the problem, I think I always have been. I don't need you to tell me I'm not, I just... I don't know."

Moon picks at the hem of her sweater a bit. "It was easier to allow a lapse in judgment because you made it very easy to not feel judged. I'm grateful for that. I suppose that is what I was needing. A friend."

🪲—Oswald Marks—🪲

All he can really do is just nod along to that. Anything he might say would be moot since she’s already aware what kind of relationships he tends to have.

But it really does sound like she’s trying to convince herself of that.

That’s she’s fine. That these things would be fine.

Though, a thought does come to mind, “I thought the Commission was helping with that as well?”

“Yeah, I guess those things do,” he nods again. Her daughter is here, isn’t she? They’d fought. So whatever conflict she had with her, her husband must be more on the daughter’s side for it to have caused that much of a rift—a years long rough patch.

She apologizes and he doesn’t know what for. Then she describes her husband.

“How long is ‘lately’?” Oz asks, curious. She said it’d be years before. He’s just putting that reminder back in her head.

She talks about her daughter. Their conflict—vaguely. It’s rarely the child’s fault, he wants to say. But he worries if he does he’ll sound a little too much like her husband.

Oz inches his hand a little closer to her, still not touching. “Well, I think you know me too well, because I was going to tell you you’re not the problem,” he chuckles lightly. “It just sounds like you’re stressed and they done see where you’re coming from. You’re doing everything you can.” Was that true? Hell if he knows.

“I would never judge you; one because I feel like you don’t deserve to be judged as harshly as you judge yourself, and two it’d be a little hypocritical of me. Because I’m sure I’ve got a whole laundry list of things you could judge me for.” More than he’d ever admit to. “And I’m more than happy to be your friend, Menodora. I just like being around you, in whatever capacity you’d like.”

🦋—Menodora Butterfly-Johansen—🦋

She frowns slightly. "They are. Somewhat. River and The Commission are having... Difficulty."

Because River finally spoke up about their tendencies and Moon couldn't help with any of it. Sure, she received the Commission's complaints for River's grievances, but it wasn't Moon's place to dismiss him.

Mapping out the family complications would be a small effort. Moon thought she could avoid some of it with a hand wave, but it seems perhaps not.

Lingering thoughts cling to her conscious, even as she's just trying to have a conversation with Oswald.

"Oh. Lately is..." Years. Oh. "On and off for a while," Moon settles on. Though she's becoming a bit uncomfortable with the reminder. How long has it been since she wasn't so apologetic in River's presence. She should be sorry, but at the same time, she questions it...

"You're biased," Moon says. "Maybe you're just too fond of me to see the harm I'm causing." It's said like a joke. It's more than that. They both know it. He's just nice to her. She wonders if she even deserves it. A little bit of kindness was fine, but was this an enabling amount?

She's so...

God, there's a sudden pain in her chest. She thinks about her last week with River and how they two of them barely spoke a kind word to each other. Moon should be kinder. The situation was impossible.

What was River going to say when Moon admits to this? The reality of the 'realness' is crashing against her. She'd put herself through the hypotheticals of talking to Oz. Now she had to do that with River?

She's spent the last two days alone, finally got what she wanted, which was closure on this, and now she doesn't know what to do. Or what she wants next...

That's it.

"Hmm, that's sweet of you," Moon says, pulling lightly at a loose sweater thread. "I guess I made a big deal about this when I didn't have to. There I go, being dramatic. I really appreciate you, Oz. I just wasn't sure what to do about what happened. I'm... not usually like this."

🪲—Oswald Marks—🪲

“It sounds like they also took that out on you,” he says. “With the, you know, giving you more to do here. And causing difficulties when you were there.” She had been vague about what went wrong so he’s filling in the gaps himself. Probably not well.

He nods sympathetically. “On and off,” he repeats. “And when you left again, where were you with that?” He knows where she was. If things were good, nothing would’ve happened.

He shrugs, “maybe I am.” Oz grins. Then, in a slightly gentler tone, “and I am fond of you. But that probably isn’t why; I mean, then they wouldn’t be feeling that way, right—your husband and daughter should definitely be more fond of you than I am.” Plant more seeds of doubt, make her see that perhaps her family doesn’t care as much as they should. Is that manipulative? Yeah, but he’s going to act clueless about that fact and is just trying to be a good friend.

Oswald knows he shouldn’t continue to push this or to continue pursuing Moon in this way. He should just let it go entirely.

But the more doubts she has, the more she feels disconnected from her family, and the knowledge that he’s still there, the more likely it is that something could happen again.

“Hmm, well, you’re easy to be sweet to,” he chuckles lightly, tilting my his head to the side a bit. Sweet of him, sure. “It doesn’t have to be a big deal, yeah. That’s like, well—not saying anything about us—but that’s one of the benefits of like, casual ‘relations’, as you put it,” he grins a bit, “none of it has to be a big deal. Because it’s just casual.” He shrugs. “It’s okay, though. It’s hard to know with things like that sometimes. It’s hard to know how people will react to things.”

🦋—Menodora Butterfly-Johansen—🦋

Did they? Moon doesn't think so. Totally. It was... Only fair, wasn't it? She'd taken off her responsibilities for a year. River had endured Hekapoo and Rhombulus enough, it was Moon's turn...

"It's my responsibility in the first place, not his. He was kind enough to bear it for a year, I shouldn't ask for more."

It was how she felt about it. Especially after River told her he barely tolerated The Commission.

Just did it for her sake. For Mjaunie's...

She exhales quickly. Almost a laugh. Wry. Or somewhat dry. She found it funny, almost. "Well, I'm sure you could figure the state of our relationship," she says. She shakes that off. "No, it was my fault. I just... I handled things badly. He had every right to be frustrated."

(That's what she should say, right?)

Something jumps. This sensation in her chest. It's a crushing realization. Yes. River and Stella should both be fonder of her than Oswald. But... They knew her better. He was just some friendly stranger from down the hall. Her family knew too much about what made her a damaged person. And the damage she could do to them. They weren't as fond of her because she had already hurt them, she expects. Love only tethers so much. And love isn't an obligation. It isn't some magical 'heals all wounds' because love isn't enough.

Oswald... Didn't carry that same fragility. Their proximity didn't mean the same thing. If he wanted, he could walk out right now, entirely untouched by the harm she could do.

Moon... Digs her pinky nail into her palm for just a moment.

"I really don't know how you do that, Oswald," Moon says. "Have relationships like that. Or, just relations. Is it that easy? I mean, I seem to feel everything so strongly." She pauses. "Casual just feels wrong. How do you not get attached to the people you have relations with? How are you not already attached by the time you--"

Her thoughts spiral slightly.

"Sorry, I'm really not trying to be judgmental. I just don't think I understand. I've been married for thirty-three years, not once did I think-- or consider-- what we did. But it happened. And I don't even know why it did, why I let it. I like you, Oswald, but not in that way. I didn't-- I don't--... How do you do it and not care desperately for your partner? I don't understand it. Maybe my feelings are just too big but I've been thinking about it since it happened and I can't let it go. Why I did it and how it happened and I haven't been able to decipher what I feel about you because the answer should be friends and I think it is friends and that just feels... Incorrect. At least for what happened."

🪲—Oswald Marks—🪲

Well, at least she laughs at it a little. Though, sometimes you have to so it doesn't hurt so bad, right? He chuckles a little, because he definitely could figure that out.

She says its her fault, that he was right to be frustrated. "What makes it still worth it, though? If every time you see each other lately you're just frustrated with each other. That sounds hard; it sounds lonely." Oz wonders. And perhaps it is a bit genuine. Perhaps he is genuinely curious why you would stay with someone who is constantly frustrated with you, who hasn't been intimate with you in years because of it all? For prestige? To save face? At a certain point wouldn't you realize it wasn't getting better? Wouldn't you start to spiral at some point?

Perhaps Moon has reached 'some point.'

There's a rush of guilt through her, briefly.

They tilt their head for a moment as she questions them. How do you not get attached to the people? How was he not attached?

She spirals on in her thoughts, questioning how and why--on both their parts to be fair to her--and it's not something he's ever considered too deeply. Why doesn't he get attached? Had he ever gotten attached? Did he--

Thirty-three years with one person--that's only eleven on us.

A heaviness drops into his stomach for a moment. Had he ever wanted to connect on a deeper level? He didn't know. Someone made sure of that.

"I think... it's just what works best for me," they say, voice unintentionally a little quieter. "And I never said I don't have any attachment. Clearly I have some attachment for you, right? I still want to be around you. If there was no attachment, I'd just leave as soon as the 'benefits' were off the table, right?"

He's thinking too much, he's trying to figure himself out too much and that's not going to work. Not here, not now. Not ever.

Oz shuts his eyes for a moment, thinking, then looking at Moon. A grin slips across his face. "No, you're not being judgmental," Oswald says with a wave of his hand. "And, it isn't to say I don't feel those things strongly, they're just... different things. Not always, like, love, but... excitement, or lust, or comfort, or... I don't know. Sometimes it's just a nice way to feel close to someone." He shrugs a shoulder, then raises an eyebrow slightly. "But to be honest, I've been thinking about it since it happened, too," probably for different reasons. But he's going to roll with it for now. "Sometimes feelings are hard to decipher. That's why sometimes it's nice to shut off those kinds of feelings and just... go for what feels good? And it's not for everyone, I get that. And maybe you were right when you said I'd meet someone wonderful some day, but..." They shrug again.

"It's also a good way to figure out what you like and don't like in a relationship. To experience things in different ways--different perspectives, so to speak," he has to hope that the thought of that is enough to stir more curiosity in her. Because if she'd been with her husband for thirty-three years... had she ever had another partner before?

"Because I like you, too, Menodora," Oz makes a choice. Maybe one he shouldn't for her sake, but he does. He puts a hand on her shoulder, catching her eyes. "And that's the other thing--not having to figure out the labels for it all. Maybe we're friends, maybe we're something else that we don't know the name of," he says in a low voice. "And we get to figure out what that is together."

🦋—Menodora Butterfly-Johansen—🦋

It was lonely, wasn't it? Moon's smile is a pained grimace. "He's a good man. He doesn't deserve the things I put him through. What he knows about and... Doesn't." She doesn't look at Oswald when she says it. "And we've had so many good years. It's like, when I'm in Mjaunie, I feel a little crazy. Like I turn back into someone I don't want to be. It's funny. I almost never want to be me anymore. I'd rather pretend to be someone else."

...

Moon does regard him with a respectful curiosity. She does like hearing his thoughts, even if she doesn't understand them.

She supposes he has a point. He likes her well enough, it seems. "I don't know. It could be a plot for my mixology and baking." It's meant to be lighter, but she thinks it comes off awkward when the words leave her tongue. She looks down. "But no, I understand. That would make sense. In fairness, I had rejected you before and you hadn't left. That should have been an indicator."

So his attachment to her was friendly. Alright. She supposes they're neighbors, though. It made sense not to want any animosity there.

He thinks for a moment, absent from the room. Then looks at her. She's glad Oswald doesn't find her judgmental. It would be hypocritical of her to question his sexual tendencies when hers seemed to be so loose. Weak willed.

She hates herself.

"And you felt that for me?" Moon asks, somewhat perplexed. She doesn't know why that's surprising to her. Maybe because things had been so tense. Because she had felt unwanted.

Because she didn't want to address it but there it was.

Was River happy that she and her neuroses were miles away. Did he miss her? Or the idea of her when she was gone?

Oswald wanted her. Or pretended to, at least. Would that be better?

She could handle him pretending. She can handle the memory. She just couldn't handle the rational thought of what she'd done.

Stop. That.

Her wandering mind when it came to them. There was no them.

But Oswald had been thinking about their affair since it happened. He doesn't explain how or why.

She's quiet. She wonders what her life would be like if she was courted be anyone else. By that charming, upper-class pseudo-prince that her Aunt Etheria --not a real aunt but an auntie of sorts--preferred. Or anyone else that she seemed to feel affection for...

What would it have been like to not love River Johansen...

Lonely. Sad. Depressing, probably.

Subconsciously, she has to wonder if she'd be any worse off now. In her post-affair descent.

He rests a hand on her shoulder. Her eyes catch his. Her nerves leap, jump at his touch.

We shouldn't figure it out. We shouldn't do anything together but just talk, she thinks. But there's something about him that makes her heart melt. And she hates it. And herself.

But not Oswald. He meant well. It wasn't his fault that she was feeling either indecently or some other rising emotions.

The loneliness she often felt was all consuming. Oswald made it more bearable.

His low voice sends a shiver down her spine. She remembers that voice, that intonation.

"What else could we be?" Moon asks, curious. "Besides neighbors?" But her voice is wavering slightly, and it's obvious that nervousness is back. "Oswald, I-- I can't give in again. It's not right."

But there's a feeling of dread for a moment. What if he left? Then... she'd be alone again, holding all those secrets in her. Compartmentalizing feelings that were too big for her boxes.

She feels a slight burning under her finger tips. An itch. A desire?

She's not meant to feel that. Supposed to feel that... She tries to squash it down. Not look at Oswald. But his eyes are so captivating.

"It's funny. You're the only person I feel comfortable talking about all those problems with. My marriage, etc. You know I'm not perfect and it's freeing. Maybe you're right. Maybe everything is a mask. Which version of me is it that you like best, Oswald? I can't decide who I should be for you."

🪲—Oswald Marks—🪲

She wants to pretend to be someone else. That admission was more than he’d gotten the first time he offered that to her. An escape. A chance to be someone else.

And she says they had good years together, her and her husband. But it’s past tense.

He chuckles lightly at her joke. “It could be, but I don’t know if I’m that good of an actor,” he grins. “But those things are definitely a plus.”

And she says she understands. And he does hope she does. That somewhere in him Oswald felt a fondness for her however slightly that Ozzy didn’t understand, but he wouldn’t complain about it.

“I mean, as I’ve said a few times, I think you’re an extremely attractive woman, Menodora,” he says with a smirk. “I don’t know why it seems so surprising that I’d want you.” Perhaps it’s the tone of the conversation that has him being a little more brazen with his word choice.

When his hand is on her shoulder they feel it. That jumping under her skin, however quick a zip it was. Desire.

What else could we be? but she answers herself by saying they can’t. It’s not right. Not that she doesn’t want it, but that it’s not right.

“I suppose it’s not,” he responds in that same tone.

Oz gives her a soft smile, “I’m glad you feel comfortable around me.”

And she’s presented him with a choice. Of who she should be for him. And there were all the right things he should say. And the wrong thing he wanted to say.

“I like all the versions of you I’ve met,” they say. Then, his hand tightens slightly on her shoulder and he leans a little closer, his voice low and breathy, “but if I’m completely honest, I really liked the you that was moaning my name.”

🦋—Menodora Butterfly-Johansen—🦋

Oh. Oh. Her cheeks immediately borderline glow. It's mostly the bright flush, but there's just a prick, for a second, of that magenta light.

"Oz," she half-warns, but it's only so confident. So committal.

She hates herself. She hates the way his words allow her to melt slightly into herself. She hates the way she's weak to them and actually feels a tingle under where his hand tightens on her shoulder.

It's with an aching realization that she understands now. She wants to. She wants to let herself go, melt between his hands. Fall apart under his touch... She can't even tell fully if it's about Oswald. She imagines it must. She wouldn't fall apart so easily under a stranger's touch...

Stop it, stop it, stop it.

Her mind is a runaway train. This conversation, which was going so well, has completely turned on her. All it took was a few affections from Oswald.

She's so weak, it's pathetic.

Moon opens her eyes, eyebrows knit. Pondering his words. Scolding herself for feeling anyway. Enabling even the thought of her and him and---

There's a slow, shaky exhale as Moon comes back into herself.

"Oswald, I don't know what to do. Everything about this... It's wrong, isn't it? That's why it has to end?" She looks at him. Reaches over, rests a hand on his face. It's so light. It's so delicate, almost afraid that real contact might harm either of them. Her own voice is soft when she searches his expression. Then, an admission she doesn't know why she says. The moment it leaves her lips, she is mortified. But the words linger in the air. "I'm perplexed by my feelings. How can I want something when I know it's wrong? It feels irrational and illogical. Futile. Oz, we can't."

🪲—Oswald Marks—🪲

There’s a quick flash from her cheeks. And his name, warning but not. But there’s that feeling. Of wanting. Of longing. Lust and all the guilt that comes along with it.

She puts a hand on their face. It’s wrong, she says. They move their hand to her face, resting it low so his fingers fall against her cheek and under her jaw.

An admission comes next. She wants this. But it’s wrong. “is it really so wrong if you want it? Is it any more wrong that you going another year feeling alone and uncertain? Is it as wrong as holding out for someone who may have lost that desire long ago?” He moves closer, their foreheads almost touching, just so she could feel his breath on her skin.

“Menodora,” he breathes. “It feels just as futile to fight it.”

We can’t.

“I’d say we don’t have to do anything you don’t want to, but we both know we want to,” he grins. Besides, the damage has already been done. Why not just live in sin now that you’re marked with that scarlet letter.

“Don’t worry about anyone else. Just do what you want.”

🦋—Menodora Butterfly-Johansen—🦋

But... "Wanting something isn't enough," Moon says, a quiet whisper. "Wanting something doesn't make it right."

But there's the comfort of his fingers touching so lightly against her face. There's the way he moves closer, she fan feel him so close to her. The way they're close enough that his forehead lightly brushes against wisps of her hair.

Another year.

That's right. She's here another year. She's here another year and it'll be somewhat lonely and very alone. She thinks about the past two days that she's been in her apartment, alone. Feeling sorry for herself but also working through her feelings towards the trip.

River asking what the fuck was wrong with her that she could say such things to Stella. That Moon wasn't saying the right things but how was Moon to know what Stella wanted.

Oswald didn't accuse of her being cold. Oswald...

She feels a compulsion. She feels a fear. What if he's right? What if things are careening towards over? What if Moon does get back and River's made up his mind that things were ended and he was only hoping to tell her in person.

There's part of her that hopes that's not true. There's part of her that knows he said he'd always be there for her. But it's so hard to rely on her memory.

"That's the issue. I'm meant to think about everyone else. Oswald, it's not as easy to just think this is about what I want." She draws away only slightly. Just to be able to look at him properly. "I'm a figure head, too. I can't slip up like this, not again. I allow myself to reflect badly on Mjaunie. And on River. That's unfair."

What does she want? She wants to not be alone. She remembers after that fight in the halls.... How River had stayed in a guest room after that last fight with Stella. It started a trend... a pattern she couldn't end.

"There are so many reasons I should be saying no, but I can't bring myself to say that either. Do you think things sound over? Do you really see me as that lonely?"

🪲—Oswald Marks—🪲

It doesn’t make it right. What would make it right? Not that he cared about the wrongs and rights when it came to her marriage and the lines that they were crossing here. But in her eyes. What would make it right.

His touch does seem to soothe her though. She feels a responsibility to think about everyone else. Not herself, though. It doesn’t sound like it. “Then let me think about you,” he says softly, catching her eyes as she moves slightly back. “It doesn’t have to leave this place. These apartments. Nobody else has to know. It won’t reflect on you at all if no one sees.” He brings his other hand up to her face, lightly touching the loose bits of hair that frame her face.

She asks him a question that he genuinely doesn’t know the answer to.

The thing he does latch onto is the fact that she can’t bring herself to say no.

“I don’t know,” he’s honest. “It doesn’t sound great. It sounds like it’s just for show.” Oz tilts his head to the side slightly, examining her more closely. “I don’t see you as lonely, but hearing what you’ve been going through, hearing how you feel… you sound lonely. But maybe you’re not, maybe I’ve been wrong. I don’t want you to be lonely, I wasn’t trying to say that you were. But if you are…” their eyes scan her face, dropping to her lips for a moment as their hand runs lightly down her neck to her shoulder. “If you are, I’m here.”

🦋—Menodora Butterfly-Johansen—🦋

'Then let me think about you,' he says. Moon looks like she's going to say something, but doesn't. That's... how River had always felt.

She remembers, a long time ago, him being angry at the Commission on her behalf. It's a memory she's long buried, but slowly, it bobs to the surface. Flashes of him, 24, angry that they had asked Moon if she was planning on having a child after all.

They'd been trying... Moon had nearly burst into tears at the Council Table. Even though she insisted it was her own fault, River wouldn't have it and comforted her. Told her to focus on her, to not allow the Commission to make her feel so small.

Then why does she feel small whenever she thinks about that argument with River? Maybe because she's 'changed' as he'd said. She bites the inside of her lip for a moment.

The more Oswald speaks, the weaker Moon's resolve becomes. She doesn't know why she's even entertaining this idea. From him. From her. Oswald's other hand brushes against her face. Instinctively, she turns her face just slightly. Leaning into the touch.

It felt right. It felt wrong. It felt right.

She hates herself.

"I don't--..." But Oswald runs a hand down her shoulder, and Moon inhales. Deep breath. She feels the lightness of it and it sparks something in her. She feels... something. Shame? Shameless? Both at once. Warring over which would win.

It doesn't matter. The catalyst would be the same.

She tilts her head back slightly, causing Oswald's fingertips to drag lightly as she moved.

Moon was lonely, wasn't she? A fact she didn't want to address. Even if she filled her time with people she cared about and who cared for her, there was only so much of herself she trusted them to know. Oswald didn't know her either, but at least she could pretend.

She could pretend things were different. She could hold onto that thin attachment he had for her. That could be enough. That would be enough.

Moon hums for a moment, thoughtfully. Debating. Teetering on the edge of acceptable thought. She's lonely. He's here. She hadn't realized how quickly her heart was racing. From what? Her thoughts? Or the pleasant sensation of Oswald's touch on her...

Why was it so easy for her to shed the truth of propriety? Of honor and faithfulness and... Maybe River wouldn't care. Maybe River would be happy. It gives him a reason to put Moon at fault should anything happen. Maybe this would be a favor to him...

Moon could shed a tear at that.

"It won't leave these apartments?" Moon asks... because it really does feel hopeless right now, doesn't it?

Everyone would be angry with her, not tell her how to fix it... she has to change. But if she doesn't know what's wrong, she can't fix it. She has to understand things that no one will explain to her. They call her perfect, then point out her flaws. They want her to be perfect, and she never will be.

It should make her angry. She should be frustrated. At this point, though, it just makes her feel helpless. And sad.

She could sob over this. She doesn't, but she could. If she thought about it long enough, she knows the tears would flow.

What happened to her? In the past year, she's cried more than she has since... maybe since Stella was born.

Other mothers, the few she saw, called Moon's depression a symptom of post-partum. Really, that's all it was. Moon wasn't depressed, she couldn't be. What did she have to be depressed about? Then? And now?

"I--"

She can't look at him as she waffles on a decision.

Moon doesn't know what she wants now. It's not River versus Oswald to her. It's the idea of holding out for something that maybe was futile.... maybe her marriage was over. Maybe she'd do River a favor and end it faster... maybe... maybe she just shouldn't be her. That's what Oswald was offering her. And escape from herself. She should just take it... she should let herself go...

"Oz..."

A splinter. A crack. She glances away, towards the ground. Contact lost...

"I should... probably draw the bedroom curtains..."

🪲—Oswald Marks—🪲

She leans into his touch and it sends a chill through him. That unearned feeling of triumph. Something he didn’t deserve. Something he shouldn’t be a part of.

And yet.

And there are the feelings. From him. From her. This desire for closeness. Sometimes Ozzy wonders if Oswald didn’t get held much as a child and that’s why he’s also so willing to be touched. Or maybe it’s because it’s the only time he still feels human? Who’s to say, really. It probably wasn’t Ozzy’s fault though—he wouldn’t take the blame or let Oswald think he should.

“It won’t leave,” he promises in a breathy tone. “If we see each other outside of here, we can just be friends. Or strangers—whatever you’d prefer. But in here, we can be whatever you want.”

Her head tilts, his finger move down to her neck. He leaves them there, lightly touching her neck, feeling her quickening pulse. His senses are alight, his pulse rising to meet hers.

He’s moved a little closer. She breathes his name, glances away. His hands fall away from her. And for a moment he thinks this might be her putting her foot down. This might be her just saying no. But instead…

There’s a rush through him as he leans forward, pressing his lips to her neck, “you probably should,” he breathes against her, his arms going around her as his own desire grows. As he’s let off his leash.

Oswald would never think of Moon as prey, but in this metaphor—in Ozzy’s metaphor—all humans are prey. And Oswald is his loyal hound, ready to bring their sins back to his feet.

🦋—Menodora Butterfly-Johansen—🦋

She's... going to hell for this isn't she? This bit of her that continues to make poor choices. Who indulges far too much in the things she shouldn't. She feel weak to it. She feels pitiful and pathetic...

But his lips are on her neck. And if she is going to hell, could she not enjoy the fantasy that someone loves her? Or simply wants her?

Why on earth would Oswald want her? It's a fair question that echoes in her mind. He could have anyone, she's sure. He's young enough, charming enough, attractive enough... He had called her attractive but Moon doesn't feel like it. She's fears tired and weary. From life? From everything.

Still, his lips are pressed to her throat and her pulse races.

She savors that feeling for a moment before resting her hands gently on his chest, stopping him momentarily. Just... before it was all so spontaneous. They were on the ground already. It started as a hug. It devolved.

What she was doing now, she thinks, standing and making her way to the bedroom, was more deliberate. It wasn't getting lost in a moment it was seeing the moment coming. Manifesting it. Allowing it... she's--

She doesn't watch to see if he follows. She doesn't even turn to him as she's pulling the bedroom curtains shut. She could still say no. So far, now was only a kiss to her throat. But... she wanted more. It's selfishness, that's what it is.

Moon is a selfish person. It tracked, though. That's what the general consensus was. She was cold, cruel... not a fit mother. Clearly not a fit wife...

Gods, what is she doing...

She's quiet. She goes to sit on her bed, inviting him to join her. The bed is perfectly made, as always, even for the fitful sleeper that she could be...

Her room's quaint. Impersonal. It's got a closet full of secrets and marchesa dresses, a vanity, and a queen sized bed. Light colors with blues mixed in. It's very cool. With the curtains drawn, it could be the middle of the night.

She flashes him an apologetic smile. Her hands hover over the top button of her cardigan... and she says, with almost an embarrassed tone, "Just promise me it's not because you feel sorry for me. Please. I don't know if I could bear that."

🪲—Oswald Marks—🪲

It’s probably good she stops him. Because he had no qualms doing this on the couch. Her hands go to his chest and there’s a warmth that spreads across them from where her palms rest.

She’s up and she makes her way back. He follows close behind, watching her draw the curtains, watching her go to sit on her bed.

He shuts the door behind him. Sure there’s no need to, but he has a feeling she’d prefer it that way. He’s already undoing the top few buttons of his own shirt, looking at her hands hovering s.

“I promise it’s not because of that,” he says, sitting on the bed. “I’m going to be honest with you, Menodora, if I felt sorry for you, you probably wouldn’t see me again.”

Oz’s hands are on the sides of her face, pulling her close before pausing. She hadn’t wanted him to kiss her before. Not there, not on her lips. But that was so it didn’t feel so real, he assumed. And this time they’re on her bed.

But he still pauses, their noses brushing against each other, their breath on each other’s faces. His hands slide down her neck, her shoulders, to find hers at the buttons on her cardigan. His fingers work around hers, undoing the first one. T

heir lips hover near hers. This is the only moment he’ll really take pause before an action, because she had asked before he not kiss her there. He does let his lips press lightly on her cheek, just above the corner of her mouth.

His fingertips press lightly at the base of her throat, where her collarbone dips. The other stays at her face, going back into her hair.

He feels that buzzing in the back of his head. He feels the heat that spreads through his body. “I’m not doing this because I feel sorry for you,” he reaffirms again “I’m doing this because I want to. Because I want you.”

🦋—Menodora Butterfly-Johansen—🦋

His admission is a slight relief. If this had been out of pity, Moon may have just dissolved. There was very little she could have handled about that scenario. It might have pushed her too far.

Oswald holds her face and she's forced to look back. He brings her closer. Moon can't tell if her heart is racing or if it's stopped.

He grazes his nose against hers. His hands move down her arms... Moon swallows. Tries to steady her breathing. She feels his lips nearly on hers. He kisses lightly above. She smiles, the corner of her mouth meeting where his lips rest.

Moon loves that. She shouldn't. But she does.

He's unbuttoning her cardigan now. Fumbling slightly, but managing. He lightly touches where her skin was, and the wisps of her hair.

Does Moon want to kiss him back? It was just one more thing, wasn't it?

He tells her that it's not because he feels sorry for her. He tells her that he wants her.

Someone wants her... That feels nice.

Moon hums as she feels the way Oswald's hands graze against her. She kisses him lightly back. They can't avoid it forever. Or maybe they could and Moon didn't want to.

Her own hands go towards the buttons of his shirt. It's so silly. It's so silly that she feels so new at this, but at the same time, this was new. This relationship of a kind. Relation, of a kind. S

he undoes a few. Makes her way down, clumsily.

"Oswald, what would you like?" She breathes against his lips. And then, because she has to ask, because she almost feels like she needs to, "What would you like from me?"

🪲—Oswald Marks—🪲

Their lips meet. She kisses him lightly. He kisses her back. And it's light for a moment. But not for long. Oz kisses her a few more times before quickly flicks his tongue against her lips. Just a quick little tease.

Moon's undoing more buttons on his shirt. Her hands are clumsy with it, and occasionally he feels her hands bump against his skin underneath. His heartbeat is rapidly increasing. He kisses her harder, sliding her cardigan off and dropping it to the side. Oswald shifts, making sure they're both fully on the bed as he leans into her. Not pushing her back, but just getting closer. He's sitting fully on the bed with her up there as well and drawn in close. Almost like how they'd sat on the floor, but this time it was more okay because it was a bed.

What would he like? They honestly hadn't expected that question. "Whatever you're comfortable with giving me," he punctuates his sentence with another kiss. "If you want to kiss me, kiss me. If you want to touch me, touch me. Nothing's off limits." Oz's lips trail to her neck, one hand going up the back of her shirt. "Or you don't have to do any of that, and just let me make you feel good." They shift again, pulling her closer so she's practically sat against their thigh. Not entirely in his lap. Not yet. Though the more his desire grows, the more he just wants to pull her into their lap.

Oz undoes the last few buttons of his shirt and then shrugs it off, dropping it to the side with her cardigan. His lips leave her neck just long enough to pull the blouse head, undoing any buttons that might've slowed that down as quick as he can. Their arms wrap around her, skin pressed to skin as Oz's mouth catches hers once again. There was still that thin barrier of her bra between them, but that could stay for now. He didn't want to move too fast.

🦋—Menodora Butterfly-Johansen—🦋

Her nerves jump. Oswald's tongue teases against her lips. Something in her chest constricts for a moment.

An unbutton. A heated kiss. Another button undone. And then he's pulling her cardigan off. He leans into her. She rises to meet him.

And his voice is raspy and wispy. Like something almost ghost-like.

What would she give him? What could she? She's not very adventurous, admittedly. Moon realizes quickly that she might be a disappointment...

He kisses her neck. Then offers to make it about her.

They're so close to each other. They were last time, too, but there was distance as well. Emotionally. And the physical logistics of the act.

She moves to work on his shirt again, but he has it. Faster and more deft than she had been. This time, he does remove her shirt. The buttons had been undone last time, but it still had hung frame. This was...

Warm.

His skin is warm. She feels his skin against hers and the contact feels like a hug. She likes it. She melts into it, leaning forward and kissing Oswald's jaw some. Up near his ear, then only slightly lower. Only what she can reach.

He was a more fervent lover, the word 'lover' used loosely. Meanwhile, Moon usually moved more slowly. Her fingers run slight circles against Oswald's back. It's just the lightest of touches.

She's timid with this. She always has been. River noted it early, in a kind way. More an observation than a judgment.

"I fear I'll be underwhelming, Oz," she says, breath against his ear, "I'm not the adventurous sort."

🪲—Oswald Marks—🪲

She leans in closer, her body warm against his. His hands trail down her back and he pulls her closer as her lips go to his jaw. Then slightly lower. His head tilts instinctively to the side, allowing her more access if she wants it. He lets out a small sigh, every inch of his skin alighting with pinpricks of warmth.

"You won't be underwhelming," they shiver as she breathes against their ear, face tipping and pressing into her neck. He kisses down to her shoulder, slightly harder against the pressure point there. Oz's hands fall to her hips as he pulls her forward, into his lap. Their lips return to hers, kissing her harder. "You weren't underwhelming last time." He slowly rolls his hips up against hers, letting out a small sigh at the feeling. "Doesn't have to be adventurous," they kiss her again, hand going to the side of her neck. "Just do what feels right; do what you want to." And if that's nothing 'exciting', he's fine with that.

Their thumb strokes against the side of her neck as their other hand goes to her breast, massaging . His lips are on hers, heated and slick as he parts his lips against hers, his tongue teasing deeper this time. He can taste hints of the blood orange spritz.

His hands fall back to her hips, holding her closer.

"You can also tell me things you want me to do, like where to touch you, where to kiss you, what to do to you," he says, rocking his hips again. "Or I could tell you. Like... Menodora," his breath is raspy and breathy again, "Put your hair down." He arches his back a bit, his chest pressing closer to hers. There's that warmth of their skin together again, making Oz's mind go fuzzy with want. They were plenty close to each other right now, but gods he wants to be even closer.

🦋—Menodora Butterfly-Johansen—🦋

Skin presses to skin. Their chests. Her lips on his neck. His hands on her back. He says she won't be underwhelming. She disagrees but does not protest.

His fave in her neck. His lips against her shoulder. Her hands tracing lines on his back.

Oswald's hands on her hip, pulling her closer. His hips rolling into hers.

It feels wrong how her body reacts. A twitch in her system. A sign from her lips. For a moment she almost has clarify. And then he kisses her, and rests his hand on her neck.

Moon can't help but let out a breathy-half gasp as he works his hand breast. Even with the barrier of her bra, it still feels good. A slight fog begins settling mind.

He flicks his tongue again. She parts her lips, allowing his tongue to tease into her mouth. Oswald's kisses are so different...

His hips press against hers. She can't help as she reciprocates, rolling her hips slight against his. A slightly breathy sigh as they move. He is telling her that she can request what Oswald does to her.

And then he uses her full name, rasping, giving her a small request. Was it a request? If felt like a command.

Moon reaches for the pins in her hair, dislodging each one by one until she's gathered the all and drops them off the side of the bed. She doesn't hear metallic pings, so she can only assume they've got the same way as their clothes.

Her honey hair cascades down her shoulders. She feels the way it tickles her skin. She feels the way her checks flush slightly, and she realizes she's almost desperate for Oswald's approval. That she's done as he's asked correctly. Did she really crave approval that much?

She tilts her head back, presses her chest closer as he does the same. Rocks her hips against him this time. She can feel body reacting with some slight twitches of anticipation. The way her body feels... Wetter. She is a mess.

The guilt creeps slightly into her mind. No. She can't handle that. If she thought to hard about any of this--

Her hands go to the sides of his face and she kisses him. Deeply. She needs to forget. Kisses him deeply, teases her tongue now. Presses her hips into him once more.

Her body is eager. She needed this doubt banished from her mind...

Her breaths are heavy. Her mind begins to cloud. "Oz," she murmurs. "Kiss me. Make me forget."

It's such a simple request. But like his earlier, maybe it wasn't. Maybe this was her command...

"Help me escape," she murmurs, a slightly moan outlining her voice. Then, breathy, rasping herself, "I don't want to remember anything but you."

🪲—Oswald Marks—🪲

Her hands are on his back, the lines she draws down his skin sparking his nerves in a way he didn’t fully expect. It’s the closeness, it’s the touch, the warmth. It’s all so good. His mind is buzzing.

And somewhere in the back of his mind, Ozzy is savoring this all. Both of their desires to be touched so delectable. The familiar lust from Oswald like a familiar home cooked meal—comforting, right. Menodora’s lust—her desire, her adultery— washes over him like a rich red wine.

And they were just getting started.

Moon sighs as Oz’s hands palm against her, encouraging him to continue, bringing his other hand to her chest, squeezing and pressing as he kisses her more. Harder. Tongue sliding deeper into her mouth as her lips part. Teeth tugging lightly at her lower lip whenever he goes to pull back. Which isn’t often.

Her hips grind down against him and his breath catches. A sigh that mimics hers.

As Moon listens, he pulls back from her lips, watching as her hair falls down her back. He smiles at her.

“Good,” he breathes, a hand going to tangle in the hair at the back of her neck. It was a simple command, but watching her follow it, the way her cheeks flushed after, it made his mind fog.

Her hips rock against him again. The sensation sends quick waves of pleasure through him. His mind begins to haze as he grows harder and falls deeper into this moment.

Moon grabs his face and now she’s the one kissing him harder and deeper. Almost desperate. His hands go around her back, fumbling for a moment to unclasp her bra.

She has her own requests for him. Make me forget. His hands slide down her arms as he guides her bra off. It quickly joins the other discarded garments on the ground.

Her tone is becoming breathier. Needier. There’s almost a moan. Their cheeks heat ever so slightly at the sound as more of that haze overtakes them.

“Of course,” he hums against her lips. Then he’s at her jaw. Her neck. A hand is back on her breast, massaging harder. Skin on skin. He rolls her nipple between his thumb and forefinger as his other hand slowly trails down her stomach.

Oswald brings his head back, looking her over, examining every inch of skin. Taking all of her in.

“Let’s make you forget the whole goddamn world,” he breathes, mouth quick to recapture hers in a rough kiss.

“Lay back, Menodora,” he says, voice low and steady. It’s not really a request. He pulls back from her a bit to look at her again, his hands falling to the sides of her thighs, gently stroking them skirt, thumbs massaging slow deep circles against her. “Then tell me where you want my lips first. And don’t worry, they’ll be going everywhere. Because I’ve been dying to taste you again.”

🦋—Menodora Butterfly-Johansen—🦋

'Good', is what he says. Her heart flutters slightly... Good. Nothing changes, but something charges. Something in her chest feels different after that. She doesn't have much time to think about it, but she can recognize -- barely -- the way she eases.

They kiss. They kiss several times in different ways. With tongues. With teeth. Moon doesn't know what she wants more, the closeness of him or the distance to be able to see him. She really is desperate, isn't she? To do this... To be not her.

He unclasps her bra, she shifts to help him remove it. Sex with Oswald, she realizes, is so different from sex with --... Others. Because Oswald is more forceful? More passionate? Is that it? He is a different sort of person. He isn't soft or delicate. He doesn't predict what it is that Moon wants.

In some ways, Moon thinks that makes sense. She and River have been married for years, known each other longer.

Does she like being commanded? She doesn't know. But does it feel like something she might deserve...?

...

She hums as Oswald kisses her neck. Kneads at her skin, her breasts. Trails his hand does her body and then pulls back. Looks her over. Moon doesn't remember the last time she felt so studied.

Usually people are looking for weaknesses, Moon knew that. When people sized her up, they were looking for some bit of her to exploit. In a sexual way, was that what Oswald was doing? Or was it some kind of admiration? Moon doesn't know and doesn't get the chance to ask. He kisses her hard, encouraging her to forget. He tells her to lay back. Moon does, feeling exposed. Not all the way, yet. But she does feel open and vulnerable.

Is there a fear here? Maybe only the fear of getting caught. It's as if anyone would walk into her apartment, though. She'd locked the door behind them. And Oswald had closed the bedroom door...

Every loose hair tickles her back. Her shoulders. Her bangs fall into her eyes a little bit.

His fingers send shivers down her spine. It's anticipation. It's longing. It's desire. He's teasing thighs. Then more. She let's out a breathy sound, her voice catching in her throat. She wants-- what does she want? Where does she want his lips? His hands? Where does she crave his touch most?

"Come here," she murmurs, looking slightly drunk. She holds out her hands, eager to hold his face again. Eager to bring him closer to kiss her. She feels her thoughts slowly slipping, wanting to become more lucid. She doesn't want that. She doesn't want that at all. "Oz..."

She's never had to ask before. River never made her. River always gave her almost exactly what she wanted without her having to say a word... River loved her...

Past tense...

It's her fault her marriage is burning... It's her fault her daughter hates her... It's her fault that she's destroying her life...

She can't think about that now. She can't think about it while she's making a choice to go back on everything. While she breaks his heart before he even knows it... She can't think about River, but all she can think about is River...

Moon refocuses. Looks at Oswald, looks at his face. His eyes. Desperately wanting, desperately needing this escape before it consumed her entirely.

"Oz, Make me beg for you... Please..."

🪲—Oswald Marks—🪲

Every breath and every sensation fuels him more. It drives him deeper into this haze of lust and desire. He continued to tell Moon that he wanted her, but really this was what he craved. Closeness. Touch. Feeling something real and deep that actually felt good. So much was kept from him that he didn't even realize. So many minor human connections that he so desperately needed. Encouragement, closeness, care. This was the only way he got to feel it anymore. This was the only time he truly felt separated from Ozzy. When he sinned.

But while most other sins could be isolating or the contact from them could turn violent, this was the one that made him feel human still.

And perhaps Menodora, with her level of experience, with her different desires and views on 'casual relationships' made this more interesting. It made the closeness feel more real. Because its not just a warm body to get you through the night, it's someone you're close to. Someone you'll see again.

Every noise she makes draws Oswald closer.

She lays back at his demand and something runs up his spine. Ozzy is pleased with her feelings. With his.

Her voice is light, floaty, and Oswald listens, leaning , shifting his weight as he lays beside her, practically on her still, letting her hands grab him where she wanted. A grin passes over his face as she murmurs his name again. He rests his palm on her breast furthest from him, tracing patterns around the hardening center.

His lips brush hers lightly as he searches her faces, waiting for whatever she has to say. There's something distant in her eyes. Guilt. Shame. Desire.

Her words surprise him. He hadn't expected that. Not from her. But he was more than happy to oblige.

Oz sits up again, kneeling thighs. "I'd love to hear you beg for me, Menodora," he smirks, undoing his belt and his pants. Just to have a little more room to breathe. And perhaps to get her mind moving.

"You want this so bad, don't you?" he hums, all too delighted as he takes her wrists lightly in his hands. Oz leans down again, their hands all trapped between them as he feather light kisses her lips. He moves next to her ear, breathing lightly against her, "Tell me how much you need it." His teeth tug lightly at her earlobe.

They take her hands and pin them up near her head, looking down at her with a hungry smile, eyes shining with want. "How bad do you want me, Menodora?" he murmurs, slowly rolling his hips against her, his length teasing between her legs. There are still several barriers of clothes between them. But he feels everything more with the thicker fabric of his pants parted out of the way. He takes a slow, steady breath as he brings his face close to hers, lips hovering just above hers, practically a kiss. "Show me that you need me."

He lets go of her wrists, sitting up on his knees . "Take off your skirt," he says in that same low tone. Oz's hands go to her breasts again, playing with and palming and teasing them while he waits for her to comply. "I'm gonna leave you breathless, Menodora. You'll be begging for me to touch you. To fuck you." he grins, his heart beating faster as that warmth continues to spread over him. His mind in a haze. He leans close to her again, kissing her lips, tasting her tongue. Oz pulls back ever so slightly, only to kiss her neck. Then he's at her ear again.

"You have such pretty lips, Menodora," he breathes against her. "Have you ever fucked anyone with them?" He's not really asking her to do that now, he just wants to see her blush, he wants to see her react. He wants to hear her beg him for something--anything. His touch. His lips. His cock. Oswald wants her to fall apart beside him and he's loving every moment of it. "Menodora," they breathe against her ear, hand sliding down her torso, "I want to hear you beg."

🦋—Menodora Butterfly-Johansen—🦋

She had asked for this. This is what she got. She had Oz kneeling . Oz speaking to her in a way she'd never been spoken to before. She has him unbuckling his belt. Her own voice is so caught in her throat.

Oswald takes her wrists and she makes no move to free herself. Only lets out breathy shudders as Oz kisses her lightly. Like the ghosts of touch to her skin. Barely there. His warmth. His breath. His teeth against her ear. She car feel the slight pull of her white-gold earring, those crescent dangles she almost never takes out.

"Please, Oz," she mumbles, only now realizing how drunk with desire her voice sounds. Needy and wanting.

He pins her wrists. Her hips rise to meet his, though with limited success.

Oswald looks at her like he could devour her. He could take her in and leave nothing behind. Maybe remnants of thoughts, the slivers to tangents...

"Badly," she whimpers. Pleading. "Badly, Oz, please?"

Sure, she often thinks of herself as pathetic. This type of pathetic, however, felt different. This was the type that she almost wanted to be. It kept her mind off of everything else. It focused her mind on him.

He teases her, even through layers of fabric. She lets out a slightly strained moan. Her hands tighten to fists, still pinned beside her head.

He leans forward, lips near hers. She may have leaned up to kiss him, but felt he might reprimand her for that. She doesn't. Just follows his orders.

He lets go of her wrists, sits up to watch her. She fumbles for the clasp and zipper of her skirt, trying to remove it quickly, yet carefully, as Oswald's hands go to play with her breasts.

It leaves her in ... Her underwear. And he's still got his pants mostly.

She feels barer than before as Oz continues to massage her, and she holds back another breathy moan at his words. There's something she so desperately wants in what he says. Maybe it's that he'll leave her breathless. Perhaps it's the promise that she'll be reduced to begging for him. Not just to touch her, but to fuck her.

Menodora didn't think of sex in those terms. Menodora thought of sex as ... Sex. Or making love. Or being intimate.

Rarely did she consider sex, at least her own, to seen so primal or carnal. It was different... It was exciting.

He kisses her. Lips. Throat. Neck. And then he's speaking again, and Menodora almost squeaks. It's this surprised inhale. Her face flushes red. It's worse than before. No diamonds, just a bright blush.

Is that a question she's meant to answer?

She shakes her head, lips only slightly parted. Menodora's been stunned into silence, at least for a moment, until Oswald says her name again. His hand down her front, his breath on her ear.

Menodora was near to crying. She was overwhelmed. She wanted this, needed this. Needed him.

"Please," she starts. It's a whisper, raspy because it feels like all the air has been taken from her lungs. Then, again, "please, Oswald. Please kiss me. Please touch me. Please run your hands through my hair. Please run your fingertips over my skin." She pauses to take in some air, having to bite back the urge to press up against his body. She compromises. Presses her hips up against his again. Needy. Pleading. "Please, Oz? I need you. Please, please, please..."

On repeat. Like a sort of prayer at this point. A soft repetition. Her eyes searching for his approval, or at least his mercy.

🪲—Oswald Marks—🪲

She pleads with him over and over. Please, Oz.

She wants it badly. She wants him.

She moans and his mind rattles with the sound of it. Of her wants. Of her pleasure.

She once again does as told, fumbling with shaking hands to remove her skirt. He hums approvingly.

He likes the way she moves under their touch. The way her body twitches with the longing she feels.

And the way she reacts to his words makes him grin, looking face. She blushed deeply. Oz pressed his lips to hers as she shakes her head. Silenced by his words. In a good way or a bad way? Not in a way where she brought them to a stop.

Oswald gets off of her, laying on his side beside her. He pushes some loose strands of hair off of her face, then removes his trousers.

Her raspy pleas make him want her more. And he had already wanted her quite a bit.

She wants to be touched. Held. Caressed. Oz sits back between her legs, hands running lightly up from her knees. H

er pleas are music in his mind. Over and over, a broken record. He grins, putting his lips on hers as his most prevalent sin swells.

Pride.

This notion that he was greater than he was, this belief that he deserved any better than any of the other Mundus fucks with tragic upbringings. It was the thing that drew Ozzy in, made him plan this as a long term solution to both their problems. Oswald was as prideful as he was desperate, and that made for a devastating combination.

His father had been consumed by greed, and Oswald thought him a fool. Ozzy knows that that man’s child is no better. And he couldn’t be happier with the results.

Oswald’s lips trail from Moon’s, down her jaw, down to her chest. He kisses over the curve of her right breast as his hand moves between her legs, teasing so lightly over that last bit of fabric. His other hand goes to the side of her head, his fingers raking back into her hair.

His mouth works breast, tongue swirling around and over the sensitive bump. Lips and teeth suck and pull.

He kisses to the other side, giving her the same attention there as his fingertips continue lightly stroking between her legs. They can feel how warm and how wet she is, even with the fabric. A shiver runs through them as they kiss down her stomach, their hand leaving her hair.

Oz’s fingertips all find their way to the waistband. His mouth continues down, kissing against her, breathing her in.

Slowly, her underwear is pulled down. Slowly, he runs his tongue . He brings her underwear lower on her legs. Low enough that she could kick them off if she wanted to.

His tongue laps against her a little longer, light kisses placed up and down her before he makes his way back up her torso, back to her neck, her lips.

He pulls back to look down at her, to search her eyes, to see her blush.

Oz slowly rocks two fingers inside her, keeping his eyes on hers.

“Look how wet you are,” they breathe against her lips, a pleased hum accompanying their words, hand working a little quicker inside her. More fervent teasing. Preparing her further.

“Menodora,” he murmurs, kissing her again, “when I fuck you, how do you want it to be? Do you want it slow; do you want to lose your mind gently and slowly? Or I could fuck you so hard you forget how to breathe…” he kisses her harder, teeth pulling on her lower lip. “How do you want me to make you forget. How badly to you want it?”

🦋—Menodora Butterfly-Johansen—🦋

Everything in the world outside felt wretched. Every moment she replayed in her mind from Mjaunie felt wrong. Raw. Leaving her senses burning with shame and fear and hurt.

Every person who had ever cared for her had either turned on her, hated her, or deserved better from her.

Her feelings weren't her own. Her magic wasn't her own. Her thoughts were barely her own, trapped in her head. Spinning in on themselves and twisting and tangling and drawing her deeper into a depression. An abyss.

...

He touches her. Kisses her. Lips and tongue and teeth. Fingers and palms. Pressing. Pulling. Her throat, her breasts, her stomach....

Oswald approves of her enough that he wouldn't leave. Was that all Moon needed now? Someone who wouldn't leave her? Is she that desperate? Is she that sad?

This had started with her needing to tell him that their affair was off. And now she was coming undone beneath him as he pulls down her underwear, laps at her. As she writhes, every touch feeling electric.

She wants to scream.She might have cried if Oswald hadn't caught her lips. She tastes him. Her. It feels different. It feels wrong...

Menodora was the one who had asked for this. She had asked him to make her beg. Maybe she didn't know how good he would be at it? Maybe she was in head.

She parts her lips to perhaps say something, but he presses his fingers into her and her breath turns into a moan as she moves. Shifts to kick her underwear off while she presses her hips up against Oswald's fingers.

Moon had never known herself to be so wanting, so sexually desperate.

Look how wet you are... He says, and she leans up and kisses him. Muffling another drawn out moan against him mouth.

Something she's always been conscious of is how loud she is. Something she's losing now... Her control.

Oswald's hand moves faster and Menodora can feel just what he'd meant. How easily his fingers slip in and out of her, slip deeper into her. She can feel that wetness, hear the sound of his fingers moving in her and just how her body contributes.

She shouldn't be allowed to feel this good. Not after everything she's done. Not after how selfish she's been. Is being. All the people she's caused trouble for... She thinks about how she's hurting River. How Stella hates her. How she's nothing more than a shadow of her family's reputation to Tófi. How Cass deserved so much more from her as a friend. How there were all these people that she grew to love who would hate her if they knew who she really was. How weak, how cowardly, how pathetic and pitiful.

How much of a wreck she was. How quickly she was spiraling out of control...

She burns everything she touches. Maybe not immediately, but eventually it would. And one day, everyone would realize...

She was the one who invited Tófi to the peace banquet. If she really wanted to be cruel to herself, she could blame her mother's death on herself.

And Menodora was learning just how her cruelty best suited her...

Oswald asks her a question and Menodora looks up at him through hazy eyes. Listens as he speaks.

If this were River, he would kiss her softly. Make love to her gently. Slowly. Allow her to wash away the world and just be in his arms...

Oswald wasn't River. Moon didn't deserve anything vaguely resembling that softness. And Oswald had offered her something else.

She can barely form a thought, let alone a string of syllables by the time he's left the air open for her to answer.

Moon's quiet as Oswald continues to toy with her, save for some whimpers and breathy sighs.

But her eyes are bright blue and she, breath and voice shaking, eventually says, "I want to forget to breathe."

Then, regaining some semblance of the position they're in... Of the position she's put them in, "Oz, please? Please fuck me so I forget how to breathe? How to think? I can't take it. Please?" It's something soft, wanting. Breathy and begging.

She tilts her head back, swallows hard as her sensations run away. As he fucks her with his fingers and she tries to string together thoughts. As his teeth pull on her lips. As her mind slips but doesn't slip away.

She's on the verge of desperately sobbing.

"I need it. I need you, Oz. Please? Please...?"

🪲—Oswald Marks—🪲

Her body reacts to his touch with movements and noises. His reacts in turn to those. Thoughts and judgment clouded by everything else going on. The disconnect he felt from Ozzy in this moment, usually a blessing, keeps him blind to the way her mind spirals. Blind to the guilt and shame and loathing, and just how deep in runs.

The feelings he knew--the subtle guilt, seemingly just for the affair--were what he still assumed flooded her, along with desire or want or lust. And after the last time he let his own guilt creep in, who knows if Ozzy would even let him know she was feeling these other things. These deeper, twisted emotions that Ozzy absorbed with delight. While Oswald continued to focus on her physical and outward expressions of her feelings, assuming the excitement and fulfillment Ozzy is getting is the same its been, nothing deeper. Nothing far more troubling.

Moon whimpers under his touch, sighs and moans against his lips. He's enjoying every moment of this.

Their eyes lock, hers having shifted to blue. And it brings him a moment of mental hesitation, recalling the last time he'd seen them that shade. It's probably just any strong emotion. You're overwhelming her senses in the best way. Do what she says.

And he has no reason to argue with that thought.

She begs. I can't take it. He should read into that phrasing, he should put these pieces together better.

And if they were just talking, if they were just sitting on the couch acting like normal neighbors, maybe he would've.

He kisses her harder, deeper. She begs more. "Anything you want," he breathes against her lips. "I'll give you whatever you need."

Oswald removes his hand from her, sliding his own underwear off. He spreads her legs wider, positioning himself between them. He rocks his hips, teasing himself against her. Feeling her warmth against his skin, he lets out a shaky breath, still just rocking, still just teasing. Their heart is beating faster.

Oz shifts how she lays, bending her legs, propping them up against his hips, making it so her hips are off the bed. They guide themself inside her slowly at first, pulling her closer with their hands behind her knees.

"Fuck, you feel so good," he breaths before picking up speed.

Oswald does as he's said, and fucks her hard, his hips grinding and ramming against hers. He lets out a moan himself at the sensation of feeling her around him, and the pleasure that pulled him in deeper and harder, his mind getting fuzzier.

He shifts, sitting up higher on his knees, holding her legs higher. Not over his shoulders, but like he was taking steps to get her legs there. Oz pulls her closer, holding her in this position as he goes deeper and harder, the bed frame shifting with their movements.

They can't help but look at her face as they begin to pant, breathing faster and heavier as their body reacts to all of this. As that desire stirs even deeper, something out of his control urging for more.

He leans forward, placing his hands on the bed on either side of her head, letting her legs just stay over his hips. He looks down at her blue eyes, her flushed cheeks.

"Gods, Menodora," he moans as he pulls almost all the way out before driving deep into her again. He does this a few more times, slowly pulling out then quickly and roughly driving back in. He drops to put his lips messily on hers as he picks up speed again. There's this aching hunger for more. More. He doesn't know what that more is, but he needs it. His arms are shaking and so is his breathing, sweat forming on his brow, his back.

He shifts again, hands tangling in her hair at the sides of her head, lips crashing into hers in a deep, rough kiss. A deep moan is uttered against her lips as he continues, finding himself creeping closer to that tantalizing edge.

🦋—Menodora Butterfly-Johansen—🦋

Anything she wants ... To run away. Whatever she needs... To stop feeling. She lets out a shallow wine as he removes his hand. Then gasps lightly as he sits between her legs, pressing against her. Teasing her. Just small, subtle movements. Just... Him...

She can block out the rest. The town noise. The Mjaunie noise.

He brings her legs up. He presses inside of her. Slow. Steady. Closer. Closer, still.

Oswald tells her she feels good. She may have responded if not for the quick pace at which this continues. His movements are hard. Fast. Moon bites down hard on her bottom lip, trying to stifle that lewd noises she's sure she would be making if not for her attempts at restraint.

The rhythm is quick, and if Menodora were feeling more musical... She might have tried to count the timing. The beats.

She can't. Oswald's moving so quickly. She feels it's so acutely. Him so acutely. The way that every movement sends shock waves through her mind, the fuzz she's forced to fight through. Sends shivers and chills and mild convulsions through her body as he presses deeper into her. Holding her legs higher, angling her in such a way that everything just feels like more.

It's a distraction, at least.

She looks up at him through a filter. Like everything around her was floating or floaty-- a must, a fog, a haze. She gasps at the wrong moment, and a deep moan is pulled from her throat. She didn't mean-- she hadn't--

But she can't dwell on it long as he he leans forward and looks down at her. Says her name. Watches her face and her eyes and her lips.

There's a moment of reprieve as he slows. She exhales. Inhales sharply again as he drives into her. Gasps as he does it again. Again. What if she did cry? What if this static hum in her mind kept playing... Killed her slowly? Drowned out all of her senses besides the ones engaged with him. The nerves that respond to his touch. The scent of him. The sound of his voice.

His captures her lips again. His pace increases. She wants-- she needs--...

He tangles his hands in her hair and she leans in to meet him. Raises her hips off the bed more, taking him in.

If she only thinks about him, then maybe she really could block out everything else, that nothing else existed. Maybe she could convince herself that that was the truth. That her life existed in this room and everything else was merely decor.

She feels small.

If she only thinks about him, then maybe she could survive this night.

Her hands keep running through his soft hair. Just starting to dampen with sweat. She lets out a soft hum. More small pleas fall from her lips.

There's an almost indiscernable song playing through her head. A manipulation of the rhythm and her own understanding of time. It's a bare orchestration of her feelings, stripping away all instrumentation besides two: the percussion playing outside and some faint theremin within.

Some haunting song that needed attention and reminded her there was no escape. But she could try. If she could fill the gaps between beats with something else ...

She was never musically inclined that way.

Menodora pulls him in. Pulls him close. Kisses him roughly. Pulls at his bottom lip with her teeth. Encourages. Spurs. Fills in the negative space. Sound and form and line and figure blur.

She feels her thoughts detaching.

If she pleas again...

Against his lips...

Once more...

She is so close to nothing and everything at once. There's a galaxy in her head, the lights dancing like CRT static.

If she could just allow herself to fall...

Gods, Oz.

Please?

🪲—Oswald Marks—🪲

His mind is clouded with her. Her taste, her scent, the feeling of her body against his. The way their skin begins to stick as sweat begins to gather, the way she gasps and whines and moans under him. Everything is so dizzying in the best way.

She pushes closer to him, kissing him hard in return. A surprised but pleased hum falls from his lips as he presses closer, one hand staying in her hair, the other going to her thigh, lifting her leg up his side a little more. To make the position deeper, to bring a little more pleasure to them both.

He murmurs her name against her lips as she lets out soft pleas.

He drives himself harder into her. Deeper. Trying to erase any space there could possible be between their bodies.

Oz can't help the moan that comes out as he finds himself getting closer to that precipice. As that light and floating feeling overtakes him, his limbs beginning to shake.

"Menodora," he breathes, raspy and ragged, his hand falling away from her leg and going in between them, fingertips working quickly against her as he continued fucking her.

His heart is beating so fast.

He feels lightheaded and dizzy.

There are no thoughts in his head. No feelings in him other than this.

The only thing he can hear are her noises and that voice in his head demanding more.

Oswald moves faster, harder, noises falling from him. Gasps, grunts, moans, her name.

That edge creeping closer. Pulling him nearer. More. Everything is shaking. His heart is beating so fast he can no longer feel it.

More.

He can't breathe.

More.

I can't...

Their hip buck, sending them deep inside her as everything builds and everything crashes around him. He holds her close, eyes shut tight as he gasps and shakes, exhaling as he releases. He holds himself to her, the world feeling so distant and empty. The only warmth he can find coming from her.

"Moon..." his voice is barely there. His lips clumsily find hers as he finishes riding out that high, that rush. .

He continues to move his hand against her, remains inside of her until she finds her release as well, lips moving from hers to her neck as he tries to catch his breath. As he tries to regain control of himself.

His body is aching.

Screaming.

He can feel the tickle of sweat dripping slowly down his back being counterbalanced by the feeling of something crawling up it. He can hear buzzing in his head and the sound of something tapping almost imperceptibly against her window. A fly or a bee, most likely. Something so quiet and distant nobody should be able to hear it. But it echoes in his mind like a metronome. A haunting reminder as he returns to his senses.

Oswald buries his face in her neck, giving her light kisses to hopefully help satisfy her, and distract himself.

🦋—Menodora Butterfly-Johansen—🦋

He gives her more. She's desperate for him. For the way he touches her. The way he kisses her. The way he makes her feel. Physically. Emotionally. He helps her slip away, mind a menagerie of broken stars...

He pulls her closer. Leveraging her body. Moving it how best serves them. She feels every maneuver of her body in a way she's not in control. And she likes it.

She likes that she doesn't have to think. She likes that Oswald takes the reins. Menodora is so used to trying to control her life. Handing it over... That was freeing.

He continues to rock in her. Moving hard and fast and Moon-- Moon is feeling deliriously high. Like there's all her oxygen rising in her throat and she can't catch her breath.

He says her name. She could cry.

His fingers work quickly against her, sending the feeling of floating static through her blood. She tenses more, that pressure in her ears rising.

Those stars are turning in her head. Distant, approaching fast.

Her name.

Over and over.

A neighbor would file a noise complaint, Moon vaguely thinks.

But then that thought subsides as Moon feels Oswald's pace change. He was nearing the edge. Shaking. Pressing. Further. Nearing...

Falling.

And it's the way his hips slam into her, the way his fingers and body move as he comes that has Menodora following shortly after.

A wild rampage of feelings. A mess of nerves and thoughts and vocalizations as her body tenses around him. Spasms. Twitches...

Blood rushes in her ears. Heart pounds in her throat and chest. She's sweating. She hadn't realized... Her entire body is bare on her blankets as Oswald hovers above her.

He'd used her short name.

She nods in turn as she feels her breath stabilizing, her heart rate settling, her mind calming, and her body going limp. She sinks into the bedding.

He presses his face into her neck. She hums slightly, the unvoiced sound grazing the air. The vibration of it grounding her.

It feels raw. It feels wrong. Maybe she really is a disgrace. Taking after her mother's controversy.

No... Moon's is worse...

She comes out of the haze slowly. Rubbing those slight circles at Oswald's back. The intimacy of it, even if the act itself felt mistranslated. And escape of a different sort.

They could lay here for a bit, rapid rhythmic thumping easing on each other.

She is dazed, confused. Scared. She feels guilty.

She loathes herself.

She spins her ring twice again.

Hums Oswald's name.

Mentally apologizes. Does not forgive herself.

🪲—Oswald Marks—🪲

There’s another shock that goes through his system as she releases. He stifles a gasp, a different kind of euphoria shaking him as Ozzy swirls happily around his spine. As he feels his power swell under his skin. There’s that ache of him wanting control. Of him wanting Oswald pushed to the back. Oswald wouldn’t allow it. Just like before. Just like whenever he was in a situation like this.

Maybe Ozzy would be stronger if he stored some of the energy. Or maybe seeing how much he could push Oswald away was a way of testing his strength.

He doesn’t focus on Ozzy’s movement. On his internal displays. He focuses on Moon rubbing circles against his back.

Just for a little longer… he wants to feel human for just a little bit longer.

They move off of Moon, lying on their side next to her, pressing a kiss to her shoulder.

“Do you want me to get you anything?” He murmurs. “Water? A towel?” He probably should regardless of what she says.

He continues to feel Ozzy moving, his energy surging, but he doesn’t try to merge back into his mind. Continuing to leave Oswald in the dark about Moon’s state of being. Letting him think nothing has changed.

It was better Oswald didn’t feel that, Ozzy decides. He doesn’t need him getting all worked up and stressed over Moon’s mental state.

So he can keep his control for now, Ozzy thinks. He can keep being human if that’s what he so desires. And he can hate himself for missing all the signs later.

🦋—Menodora Butterfly-Johansen—🦋

She's high and low at the same time. Her summit of feelings. Her plateau of strength. She lays there under Oz until he moves, laying beside her. Kissing her shoulder.

Menodora closes her blue eyes. Breathes in. Out. In... Out...

Oswald asks if she wants anything. Water or a towel? Moon already knows she's going to be doing laundry for the bedding either later or tomorrow. But for now, she's tired.

Moon shakes her head.

She rolls on her side, tucks herself into Oswald's side. She doesn't care if Oswald puts an arm around her or not. This was enough...

Her mind is still blurred with physical feelings and sensations. She is glad of the distraction, even if it's not wholly effective.

She is glad that Oz offered it, even if it makes her feel that she's pushing herself further to the verge of her sanity.

Her fingers wander... drumming lightly on Oswald's chest. A soft rhythm.... Sometimes tracing lightly, but mostly just little taps.

She can cling to him. She can cling to this idea of him. And then she laughs a bit, a somewhat musical but tired sound.

"Oswald, I'm cold," she says, softly. "I think the throw fell off the bed. Your side. Can you reach it?"

🪲—Oswald Marks—🪲

Oz's arm drapes around her as she folds into his side. They play absentmindedly with her hair, slightly stroking her back. His mind feels almost more tired than his body. There's just a low buzzing in the back of his mind in the space Ozzy usually occupied. Perhaps he's content enough. Perhaps he'll rest, and let Oswald enjoy this moment after. He never knows what Ozzy does or is thinking when he slinks into the shadows of his consciousness. Oswald stuck on the reflective side of the two way mirror.

Moon's fingertips drum against his chest. A different rhythm than his heart. It's relaxing, though. It steadies him.

"Yeah," he replies quietly, shifting away from her to reach off the bed, grabbing the blanket. He drapes it , some of the blanket covering him as well as he tucks himself against her again. Holding her. For the sake of her warmth.

To take advantage of this closeness.

Before Ozzy takes it from him again.

"I hope that at least met your expectations," he chuckles. "Wouldn't want to disappoint you with my distraction."

🦋—Menodora Butterfly-Johansen—🦋

Her eyes are fading back to brown. She's doesn't feel more lucid, but she does feel less not her. Moon's enjoying the moment for what it is, even if everything about it feels dissonant and wrong.

She hums approvingly, something softer. Something more her. Pleasant and nice, more than the deviance she's shown. Or was it something else? Something more destructive?

"It was good," she says, because to say it was nice would sound all too demure, perhaps even minimizing. Whatever else she might say could come off dismissive, so she won't say it that way. She folds in closer, hiding her face just under his chin. She might be taller than Oswald, but it's how she's always done it. Rested like this after being intimate. Faintly listening to her partner's heartbeat...

Then, quietly. Barely a whisper... "Thank you."

For.....?

For the faint fantasy that everything could be okay. For the ability to fall into recklessness without judgment. For not leaving her alone.

The act itself felt transgressive, while at the same time, felt like a different sort of right. It felt like a level of control without needing control. It felt almost safe, even if it shouldn't.

Moon feels a pang of guilt. For a moment, she's compelled to apologize. She feels guilty, as if she's used him. Hasn't she? For a distraction? But all the same, he said he wanted her. So was it merely mutually beneficial?

She's spurred him on because she needed her mind to wander. She'd encouraged this because she desperately wanted to evade everything in her life. Because being someone else was how she was going to survive her thoughts and feelings.

To think that seemed overly pragmatic…

She'd begged him for sex, but that wasn't what she was after. To him, she'd needed him to fuck her. To her, she needed him to distract her.

It worked. He occupied this other space in her mind now. She hates that it feels so wrong. Oswald deserved better too...

"You didn't disappoint me," Menodora says, softly, "I enjoyed it. It was certainly different than I'm used to."

🪲—Oswald Marks—🪲

This moment is almost nice. From the outside looking in, it would appear nice. Like lovers cuddling together. Not what this was. All that swirled beneath the surface of both of them hidden from outside view. All their motives and feelings hidden away from each other, from the world.

But regardless of motives or feelings, it is still comforting the way Moon positions herself against him. His chin rests above her head. His eyes shut for a moment, taking in the warmth. The feelings. Her breaths, her heartbeat, the feeling of her skin against his. Experiencing and feeling it all differently than he had before. It's calmer. It's nice.

Moon quietly thanks him. For what he doesn't know. For this experience? For grabbing the blanket? Or for staying here and holding her, continuing to be there for her when technically he'd got what he'd wanted.

"I'm glad you enjoyed it," Oz replies. "I enjoyed it, too. Hopefully not a bad different." Perhaps next time they could do something more familiar to her. No, there wouldn't be a next time, would there? They'd already come this far.

It isn't guilt that he feels, not really. Because technically he's done nothing wrong. It wasn't his marriage on the line. But he could've ended it. He could've walked away.

He didn't really want to, though.

But had he already been here too long? Would she come to realize that she didn't actually want to have an affair and want him out of her sight?

Or were they both a little too similar in this moment, both just wanting someone to hold on to for a little while longer?

"Do you want me to stay here, Menodora?" he asks quietly. "Or would you like me to leave? Because I can stay as long as you'd like, but I don't want to overstay my welcome."

🦋—Menodora Butterfly-Johansen—🦋

It's still early yet for Moon's normal sleep schedule. The sun's barely set while Menodora didn't often fall asleep until the early hours of the morning. The illusion of a good night's rest started when she climbed into bed at ten. The actual rest of it wouldn't occur until much later.

In any case, the high is slowly wearing off and Menodora finds herself drifting. Oswald playing with her hair contributed. Her own body's desire for rest, as well.

She was selfish for seeking this comfort. But if others would accuse her of that as well, why not accept it?

Humming. It's always a hum with her, but that's fine. She hums the makings of a smile.

"No, not a bad different," she says, hoping that it's true. Maybe it was bad what drove her there, runaway thoughts and a need for escape, but the experience itself wasn't bad. She had meant it, it felt good. Even if she would feel sore for it.

Then there's the question that Menodora wishes he wouldn't ask. It's the potential end of this. This moment, this touch.

It was up to her to dictate, but hazily, Moon didn't want to.

Did she want him to stay?

She shakes her head, cozies up to him again. It's self-destructive. It's self soothing....

"It's up to you," she murmurs, voice slightly drunk on encroaching tiredness. A desire to sleep. Or at least rest. "I'll miss you, but I won't begrudge you."

Her eyes are closed. She's just absorbing the feeling in the room. Besides, she's worried if she looks at him, her eyes will betray her desperation.

"Do you want to leave, Oswald?"

🪲—Oswald Marks—🪲

She hums against him. A gentle noise, light and airy and calm.

Not a bad different.

"Good," he says softly, still stroking her hair. His eyes are still shut, focusing just on the feeling of being close to her. Close to a person. A sensation he doesn't often feel. Often times after situations like this, Ozzy is fighting to get to the front of their mind. Like the last time he had done something along these lines with Moon, and Ozzy took over as Oz began to panic. But for now he's relatively dormant, just the light buzzing sound in his mind.

In a way, it's different for him, too.

Not a bad different.

She cuddles closer and he holds her there. Her breath against his neck and chest. Her hair tickling his chin. He could smell her shampoo or perfume mixed with the slight scent of their sweat.

She says she'll miss him?

That strikes at something he doesn't expect. He presses a light kiss to the top of her head.

Unexpectedly, he's found himself actually caring for her. Not in any deep sudden realization of love or romance, nothing like that. But as a person, as a neighbor, as a friend... He thinks the care he's been feigning has turned genuine. Which is an oddity his mind is too tired to explore, and a thought he's worried Ozzy will stop him from having.

Does he want to leave?

His voice comes out quieter and more genuine than expected.

"No."

🦋—Menodora Butterfly-Johansen—🦋

Everything about this moment would feel better if she didn't know the truth of it. She wants to allow herself to be pulled into this lull, this illusion of safety and comfort. It's just not that way. And everything that comes after won't be the same either.

Once was a mistake. Twice...

He kisses the top of her head. She hides her face in the crook of his neck, enjoying it while she can. Enjoying it before he inevitably tells her he's tired of her and wants to go.

He doesn't.

His voice is softer than it had seemed previously. He tells her he doesn't want to leave.

Moon pulls back just enough to look him over. As if not expecting that answer.

To stay here was to complicate things further. This would reflect badly on her, but what about him? Encouraging an affair with a married woman?

"Okay," Menodora murmurs, returning to tucking into his side. Pulling the blanket up a bit more. The duvet would be warmer, but she doesn't want to have to wash her sheets too. At least, not this moment. Just washing the duvet cover wouldn't be so bad...

Besides... why move?

"Mmmm, if you need to go before I wake, there's a spare key under the electric kettle," she mumbles. The idea of him staying seems to settle her enough to fall into a facsimile of calm. Her voice is weighted with a drowsiness now. She pulls closer, hiding her face against him again. Shifts the blanket over both of them. "Just lock the door if you leave. I can get the key from you later."

🪲—Oswald Marks—🪲

His answer seems to have surprised her. It surprises him a little too, honestly. He should’ve said he’d just stay a little longer and then he needed to go. He shouldn’t have fallen into this gentle lull of perceived comfort.

Because they’re both just hiding from the inevitable truths of this situation. Pretending at normalcy for just a little longer.

With others, there would be no guilt for staying because it was understood it was casual. But with Moon… would she grow to think otherwise? Probably not, she was smart enough to know better. To know that this wouldn’t be anything deeper than what it was. Friends—could they even be called that?—having sex. For what, for comfort? As an act of defiance? An act of escapism?

That’s all it was for Menodora. That’s all it was for him.

Moon doesn’t seem to mind, though. She moves in closer to him, making sure they’re both covered by the blanket. Oz lets out a small breath, letting himself relax more.

“Okay,” he replies quietly. She can get the key from him later. She’ll see him again later. He wonders how that will go.

He probably will leave before she wakes, he doesn’t know how long he’ll stay. There is a tiredness that’s taking over him. Perhaps he could stay and rest. Ozzy was quiet—content—so everything should be alright.

“Rest well, Menodora."

[black-quadrant]

declaring someone a shitty (“bad”) person when what they actually are is mentally ill and what they need is support and benefit of the doubt, not disdain and condemnation.

[khaoala]

tbh i think one of the reasons for the Kant hate is very simple: people want their ship moments, so they are gonna hate the characters that prevent them from getting them: Kant, because he was not fully into Bison in the beginning and was deceiving him bc he was being blackmailed into it and Ray, because he was 'in love' with Mew, so this translates into a 'poor Bison/Sand' narrative where they make the other party worse than they are, bc they want to make, in this case Bison and Sand into poor victims.

The bl fandom seems to function with black/white narratives, so when the storyline leans into a person of the ship hurting the other person more (ie Kant hurting Bison more than Bison hurts Kant), they immediately put them into a victim/villain situation.

It's very tiring and takes the fun out of it. And also, as you said, people tend to watch things while being on the phone lol.

while it does make sense in a broader type of sense (because ofc there are people like this in like every fandom), in this case, it makes less i feel bc the things i've seen people criticizing kant of were ones that hugely mischaracterized him and not bc of shipping or couple moments (but again i do see your point and i do agree generally). i say this all the time, and it's because it really pissed me off, but the take that kant is helping christ because of money (and people who only found out christ is a cop in ep. 6!!) or that he doesn't care about babe because he let his baby brother go to the event fadelbison were attending just proves it to me that these people are 1. not paying attention to his scenes, 2. already have their pre established hatred against him, and nothing he does or says will change their mind.

but i do agree with you about bl fans sticking with the black and white morality. i've said this before, too. some people love to talk about how shallow thai bls are, and pray to get "layered characters" or characters out of high school/university who have deeper stories and whatnot, but once they give you a ray or a kant, they can't deal with them, and just want to stick them into these boxes. everyone needs to be a "green flag", otherwise it's automatically a toxic ship which is so... yk, boring. alright man, you want EVERY show to be slice of life? but then you all complained about cat for cash for "being a waste of fk's acting" like pick a side, i beg you.

[monstersqueen]

anyway

fucking love dazai's crazy eyes and how little we're allowed to see of ango's expression

[itsalwaysdark]

whining hours . sry

[s0urte3th]

i aint mad at youse

[livvivviss]

lazy people probably won't want to read it 🙄🙄 HAHSHDA

How to shift: EMBODY YOUR DR SELF!! ☀️

Fuck the five senses

Most of us always focus on the process of shifting, the symptoms, the 5 senses, overanalyze our process and being very critical of ourselves, we try to analyze why we don't shift, giving ourselves excuses and explanations Saying "I didn't do enough", "I should have tried harder" I wish you guys to STOP THAT.

Actually, none of the above matters. The reason you think the methods, meditation, etc matters it's because of your assumptions and beliefs because you didn't get there and you think "you're doing something wrong" and you ARE NOT, leave that mentality behind and stop seeing shifting as a task or obligation, as something with steps that must be followed to the letter.

Stop and get back to BASICS, When you are trying to get to your DR, stop thinking and focus on "I have to get there" just think that YOU ARE THERE, think ABOUT YOU, about your dr self, who are you in your dr? This is why it is very important that you like your dr's self, and not just an "improved 2.0 me, now with ultra-powered engines" because it just makes you feel uncomfortable, and you need to feel comfortable with being your dr self, You must like being yourself, you must know yourself, dive into your brain and connect with your dr self and with who you're there.

And when you connect with who you are there, forget about everything else, forget how many breaths you have to take, what number you are on, or if you visualize enough, just connect with you, with who you are. By connecting with your 5 senses and with the environment, you are not traveling, I mean this is okay but when you're trying to shift, the shift it's in the mindset, not in the around, it happens in your subconscious, it happens when you become that person, you are becoming your dr self not your environment, WHO ARE YOU? Connect with that person. Start with "Who am I?" "What am I doing here?" "What is my name?" Until it becomes a natural flow, connect with your thoughts until it becomes a natural flow. You did it, you've shifted, when you are fully connected to your dr self and you no longer need to think like your dr self thinks, you are there, and nothing else matters, fuck if "your environment tells you otherwise", It doesn't matter what you see, hear or feel anymore, you are in your dr and you are your dr's person. You know that you're there because of your mindset, enjoy that because that is shifting, that is change, YOU HAVE TO CHANGE, this is manifesting, and manifestation happens instantly when you change your mindset.

The process of shifting doesn't have to take a long time, it doesn't have to take years, the only reason it takes you so long is because you see it as homework. Get out of that mindset, connect with yourself, change your mindset, delate everything else, stop making everything so difficult. "I didn't shift last night because-" STOP, there's no reason you haven't shifted. We shift in every decision we make, when you go to bed YOU HAVE ALREADY SHIFTED, but you are not going to accept it and you MUST accept it.

Why you should embody your dr self (good for lazy shifters):

You should try to connect with your dr self instead of using the five senses or connecting with your dr it's because:

1. It's a bit backwards to try to connect with your surroundings instead of yourself. As I said before, you are not shifting to be your environment, you are shifting to be you, to be your dr self. (Although I'm not saying that using all 5 senses is a bad thing, but you shouldn't focus only on that)

2. Embodying your dr self bypasses all the extra shit about you just lying in your bed trying to shift. The moment you connect with your dr's self, you have already shifted, because if you were not in your dr you would not be able to access the thoughts of your dr self. And when you are focused on this, you are no longer focused on the symptoms and that is the best thing that can happen to you because YOU SHOULDN'T FOCUS ON THE SYMPTOMS because it's not a physical process, physical change comes after the change of mentality. Connecting with your dr self's thoughts is much better than memorizing affirmations and meditating, it's more natural, you enjoy it more and it's less tiring.

3. In the case that your physical environment does not end up changing, you end up connecting with your dr self (THAT IS SO IMPORTANT) you alredy had the mindset shift. And many people when they start doing all this, they start having dreams about themselves being their dr self, and having experiences in their dreams being their dr self, and that is SO GOOD (it's literally happening to me) Taking this post into account, I assure you that YOU WILL SEE CHANGES YES OR YES this is a connecting point.

• Please make this post viral, shifters need to know this 🙏🙏

This was a summary of @shaysplanett's 7 and 10 minute videos. We love her (she was really helpful to me)

[cabeswaterdrowned]

different franchises definitely have their own individual ‘scale’ for different characteristics such as morality of characters, types of treatment expected for different types of characters etc. but sometimes it is kind of wild to go from one metric of discussion to another like the wiplash can be insane especially when major differences exist between fandoms in adjacent genres/types of stories. Like sometimes it just makes me go ‘you really must not read/watch a lot of other things in this genre if this is how you feel’. Specifically what I’m talking about rn is the many different tweets and posts I saw once ChoTh came out about how Grace Blackthorn’s redemption arc would never happen if she was a male character and she would have been treated way worse narratively like… that absolutely threw me for a loop ngl. “a male character in a paranormal story would never get a redemption arc after using mind manipulation powers on female character(s) with dubious at best consent implication and morally dubious female chars who do this are romanticized more” like what other paranormal/fantasy stories are you even consuming that lead you to believe this is the case like please tell me the answer is you just aren’t that into urban fantasy outside of TSC because that is the only way it makes sense…

[yeyinde]

Would you consider writing a poly141 version of the babytrap universe? Completely understand if it’s not to your interest to write, but I would love to see that story play out in your delicious writing style :)

ohh, absolutely. i think the best way to do it would be to have poor reader, desperate for a family of her own, and making the stupid decision to hand her resignation into Price.

and then admitting, shyly, that there's no man in your life, just a donor waiting for you to sign the papers and make the deposit for the procedure. thanking him for everything he's done, of course; but you're excited for this new chapter in your life.

He accepts it. Sure. Smiles tightly, and says, "good luck." Calls a meeting after to discuss it with the rest of the team. Closed door. A little unusual, but nothing that immediately raises your hackles. You're too busy cleaning up your desk to really pay much attention to hushed whispers in Price's office. Happy to celebrate, too, when Johnny invited you out for drinks after. Tae say goodbye properly, he said, and looking back, you should have seen through the faux sadness draped over his brow. Picked up on the giddy excitement buzzing around him as he led you to the bar, as he offered to get you drinks. Handed you an open bottle. Tipping it back for you to drink more. 

Keep goin’, doe. Drink ‘er up. 

Another one. Another. Your head swims. Kyle is there, hands warm on your waist, breath rippling across the sweat gathering on the nape of your neck. 

“C’mon, birdie. Have a shot with me.” He coos, bringing the glass to your lips, chest glued to your spine. “Can't believe you want a baby. Fuck, birdie, that's—”

Johnny murmurs something under his breath. You blamed the three glasses of whiskey sour (Price wouldn't let you have anything else) and a shot of tequila for why it sounded like,

hope it's mine—

To the left of you, Ghost snorts under his breath. Shifts in the stool that creaks, whining under his weight. You blink through fog seeping into your head, this strange, syrupy torpor that bleeds into the corners of your vision, makes everything feel muted, far away, and turned to him with a pout. 

He'd been acting strange ever since Price told him your plans. Quieter, somehow. But—

There. 

Everywhere. 

Your fixed shadow. Looming in the corners. 

You make to ask him what the hell he's doing, why he's following you around, but the words slosh out in a tangle. Incompressible.

Ghost huffs. His gloved hand lifts, falls to your throat, holding you steady with his thumb digging shallowly into your pulse. 

“Careful,” he mocks, dragging the word out like he was speaking to a misbehaving child. It bristles through you, but your tongue is thick. Liquid in your mouth. “Got a big night ahead o’you yet, pet. Try not t’hurt yourself before I get to knock you up.”

Distantly, you think you hear Gaz say something—oi, mate, maybe—but there's a shrill ringing in your ear that drowns it all out. A cotton spooling in your head. You blink—foolishly—and lean into his palm, mouth dropping in surprise. Shock. 

Horror. 

“Wha—?”

But it's too late, of course. What you thought were the comforting threads of a warm blanket spooling over your shoulders was the silken strands of a spider's web the whole time. Caught in their trap. 

And then you come to with a warm weight pressed against your back, a thick, hairy arm slung around your shoulders. Trapping you tight against a warm, broad chest.

“Want a baby, mm?” your captain coos in your ear, humid breath tickling your skin. Dampening it slightly as he leans in close, lips pressed to the shell—a warm, wet heat that makes you tremble—and adds: “fine, love. Since you want one so bad—” 

An arm lashes out of the shadows dancing around the room; through the heavy haze, the fog in your head (the last thing you remember is being offered a drink by Johnny, another by Kyle—), you struggle to make sense of what's happening around you as rough, dry fingers curl over your knee, prying your thighs apart: 

“—then we'll give it to you.”

You watch, dazed, dizzy, as cherryred knuckles slip down the valley of your spread legs, the ink on their thick fingers flexing, dancing, in the slip of pale moonlight until they curl into the hem of your panties, tugging the fabric roughly to the side. 

The sudden swell of cold air on your exposed cunt makes you gasp. Your knees jerking, trying to fold together to hide yourself, preserve some modicum of modesty, but the hand on your flesh tightens. Prevents you from moving. It keeps you open for their gaze. Lets them all gawk at the wide knuckles pressed against the seam of your pussy. Flushed in the low light. Dripping—

In the murk, someone groans—

“Shoulda told us sooner you wanted a fuckin’ baby, sweet’art. Woulda given you one sooner before y’had to go an’ do somethin’ so foolish—”

Foolish. Like paying for another man to put a baby inside of you when that privilege belongs to them. And them alone.

And really—

You should have known better.

[blue-jisungs]

hi omg I loved all ur “u sleep with plushies” for each svt unit, may I req a hhu ver ??? all of the other units were so cute😭💗

you still sleep with plushies ♡

author's note. thank you hehe!!! it was so fun to do, sorry it took so long tho:(

vcu ver && perf ver

┆彡 SEUNGCHEOL [ 승철 ]

he never considered it a problem?

like he’s been at your place a couple of times and noticed the plushies, thinking it’s just really cute :(

i mean come on, some of his members heave weirder habits (like sleeping with their eyes open…)

so when you asked him if that bothers him, seungcheol was offended that you even thought!!! about it!!!

however . . .

when he does sleep at your place, you two all cuddled up and comfy

and then… he wakes up only to see your back

okay, it happens… maybe you were uncomfortable

BUT THEN HE SEES YOU’RE CLUTCHING A TEDDY TO YOUR CHEST!!! INSTEAD OF HIM!!

he’s so sulky, good luck with that …..

you explain that it’s just your comfort plushie and that you cuddled it out of habit :(

so cheol insists that he can be way better than it and begs you to let him stay one more night to prove his point ☝️

and he kinda does, he becomes your new giant, warm and loving teddy bear <3

┆彡 WONWOO [ 원우 ]

wonwoo noticed before you could tell him

well, you really thought you were slick when you didn’t bother hiding them because you hoped he’d think they’re there for the aesthetics

or when you two went shopping and your eyes widened upon seeing a cute plushie:(

yeah, he knows

but he thinks it’s really cute, especially if you have that one specific plushie ever since you could remember and you always sleep with it

so not to make a fool out of yourself in front of his friends, you don’t take it with you when you go on a trip with them

after whole day of fun, it’s time to sleep in the cabin

and wonwoo notices that you’re constantly squirming around, unable to fall sleep

and you confess that it’s because you didn’t bring your plushie:(

so he offers to be the plushie for the night, reassuring you that he doesn’t mind and you can cuddle him as much you wanna

and that may have been a risky decision because ever since…… well, he is one of your plushies now ^__^

┆彡 MINGYU [ 민규 ]

you decided to invite your boyfriend over and share a secret with him

mentally, you got ready to get teased about it

but you when mingyu entered your bedroom he didn’t even notice the plushies ��‍♀️

he was just happy that u let him in your personal space and looked around your room with hearts in his eyes, like a kid in a candy store

"so you don’t mind the plushies?" you mumbled, plopping down on your bed and holding one for emotional support

"the pl– oh? ah, baby…" he groaned and swore his knees got weak; you’re just too cute for his own good

he doesn’t mind, at all - which you’re kinda surprised but happy

he does get pouty if you cuddle a plushie to sleep instead of him >:T

sometimes will spray his cologne on your (or his) favorite one so you could feel like he’s here when he’s out having schedules ☹️

might steal a one or two to his apartment, esp puppy ones 💔

┆彡 VERNON [ 버논 ]

i mean we all know nonnie, he’s really chill about everything (welp, except bugs but—)

so when you were facetiming him once and you noticed your plushies are on camera, you started panicking

"yo, what is it? did something happen?" he asked, noticing something’s wrong

"yeah… no… well…" you stuttered, not sure how to answer "did you see that?"

"what? that big spider behind you?" he stuttered and soon after laughed upon seeing your scared face "sorry, it was a bad joke… hey, don’t get sulky…"

"i meant my plushies…" you mumbled and pulled one closer

"oh them? yeah, and? you always have them. say hi to gerard by the way" vernon nodded

what.

there’s no gerard in your collection but later on you realised he meant (plushie name)

like really,, he doesn’t care in a way that – he doesn’t mind you having them

he does care about them, though :(

will put a blanket on them if he thinks they’ll get cold or carefully reads all the corners of the internet before putting them into a washing machine:(

masterlist <3

taglist. @mirxzii ,, @primoppang ,, @l3visbby ,, @nicholasluvbot ,, @planetkiimchi ,, @weird-bookworm ,, @slytherinshua ,, @kazmura ,, @laylasbunbunny ,, @mon2sunjinsuver ,, @eternalgyuuu ,, @rubywonu ,, @haecien ,, @mine-gyu ,, @nonononranghaee

[artytaeh]

. . . this is a silly thought, but indulge me!

( i might write more elaborated headcanons about it, though. let's see, let's see. 🌷 )

thinking about reader having kids with mattheo or theodore. and despite these two being so similar in some things, they'd be the opposite on this:

because there's a vital part of your baby growing up, where they start babbling, threatening to say their first word. the silent expectation to see which of you the baby will call for first— their mama, or their papa.

⋯ ⋯ ﹒ 🪻 ’

THEODORE NOTT is a mama's boy; even at his adult stage, having left hogwarts with you and putting a ring on your finger, it's inevitable that theo's mother always had, always will have such a special place in his heart.

theo looks at you, looks at the baby created from the strong love you feel for each other— and his heart aches, somewhat bittersweetly, as theodore imagines his mother there with his little family; making the scenario even more perfect on his eyes. theo constantly thinks about how much his mother would absolutely adore you, and be the best grandmother possible for your baby.

so, being a mama's boy— and seeing the tenderness you have for your child as a parallel of the unconditional love that theo's mother had for him...

... theodore nott isn't competitive for the first time on his life, because truly, theo wants your child to call out for you first.

not because he's uninterested or doesn't care for your child! no, it's the opposite— theo loves you both so, so much, that his heart feels like bursting from so much love, so much tenderness and happiness. it's just that you deserve it more!

both of you made the child, of course; a human being isn't made alone. yet, as much as theo supported you as much as he could— it was you whose body developed this little human that theo adores so much. you went through all those morning sickness, all of those cravings and body changes; it was you who spent hours in labor to bring that child to the world— it was you who fed them on their first weeks of life.

so, seriously, with all his heart: theo felt like it was only fair for this little human of yours to call for his beloved wife first.

and he even makes sure that such a thing happens!

on a sunny day, you'd find theodore sat on the garden; during these first months of this little human's life, it was a joint decision to spend them in theo's childhood house— where he grew up with his mother, on these beautiful grounds of italy.

sat with his back against a tree, theo uses his knees to support the baby's back, as the little human giggles and trashes both chubby arms and legs, amused by the tenderness of their father; theodore nott. he makes sure that the baby has their beautiful eyes looking at him— pronouncing the syllables with patience.

'ma-ma. mama. maaaaaa... ma.' he'd say, slowly for the baby, exaggerating the movement of his mouth, so that in a way, it would be easier for them to imitate.

it didn't matter how long it took for the baby to properly say those two simply syllables— theo would keep mouthing 'mama' over and over again, carrying the baby on his arms, to then point at you: with a cheeky smile (proud to be the father of this little human, whose also your child. you're their mother. and his wife.), theo gestures to the baby.

'mama. that's your mama; the woman i love the most. ever since i saw your maaaa-ma, i knew that she would be la mia futura sposa.'

⋯ ⋯ ﹒ 🪻 ’

MATTHEO RIDDLE, on the other hand, doesn't know how to lose; unless his loss brings some sort of benefit to him, obviously.

however this time... no, there wasn't much of a benefit, of a reward to let you win this time. it was a question of honor, of duty! to get this child of yours to call for mattheo first. (as silly as it is, mattheo needs a way to subconsciously assure himself, that he'll be a better father than his. that he'll offer support and unconditional love to this baby— not fear, resentment, and vicious bad habits to deal with the damage.)

and despite this tiny human being days, weeks or few months old— that doesn't really matter to mattheo, because he'd sooner than later teach your child about this corrupted world you live in. that this society, the human beings are nothing but weak meat, meant to fall into temptation, to indulge corruption and...!

long story short: mattheo tries to bribe the tiny human into loving him more.

and mattheo riddle is a creative man, you see; bribe is not just made with money, no, no. bribe comes in various ways:

demanding to be the one to mostly change the baby's diapers, so that mattheo could have more time alone with them, to manipulate that little brain to find it easier to babble the letter 'p' instead of 'm'— and one day, he might oh-so-dramatically say that he was the one to bear with the smell, who had to do the dirty work of changing diapers! because this being said, he deserves more acknowledgement, seriously!

encouraging this tiny human to talk. and when i say encouraging, i mean that mattheo indulges all those gibberish as if they were proper words, ones that mattheo assures to understand, and so mattheo and the tiny human engage a serious conversation. when the baby is quiet (which is rare), mattheo disturbs the peace and quiet, so that he can trick the tiny human into saying that simple, easy word. 'paaaaaa.... paaaa... papa. paaaa! pa!' he sing-songs.

by playing so much with the baby, be it with the amount of toys they have on their nursery, or by tickling, making sounds, already teaching the tiny human how to throw punches (just like his father! 🎀)— mattheo believes that he's associating himself to the feeling of having fun. so if not him, who else would they call for?! (you. because you're the most amazing mother, and mattheo knows that; he tells you that every night, so proud of this beloved family of his.)

another silly thing he does is pronouncing the word 'papa' really slowly, mouthing with such a dramatic and exaggerated movements, that it always makes you laugh when you testify it. however, when mattheo points at you, he says the word 'mama' in a faster way, purposefully making it sound very confusing for the little human on his arms.

and when you caught mattheo doing all of these things, so that he gets to be called by this baby of yours first— well, mattheo is already expecting a lighthearted slap on the nape of his neck, but oh well, the punishment and the effort are worth the prize.

⋯ ⋯ ﹒ 🪻’

🪻 ; . . . fandom : harry potter.

— i'm on a huge slytherin boys brainrot. no, seriously, i have so many drafts about headcanons and drabbles about them; the comments and reposts of theo's drabble melted me into a puddle, i swear. :( tysm!

the headers + gifs + icons aren't mine. credits to the respective creators ! 🌷

[moonstruckme]

hey lovely! if you're feelin it, could you maybe do a poly!emt!marauders drabble, where the reader is chronically ill/disabled and usually has pains and problems and sickness, but one day it's really bad and reader asks to go to urgent care, which shocks/worries the others bc they usually are very adamant about not needing to go? no matter how ill i am i always refuse to go to the hospital unless i think i'm like actually dying 😭

Thanks for requesting ml <3

cw: chronic illness, descriptions of pain and mention of nausea, trembling

emt!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 650 words

Your home is always a bit tense when you’re having a flare-up. It’s not your fault, not anyone’s, but your boyfriends feel for you when you’re hurting and they hate not having anything they can do to help. 

Remus can tell it’s a bad one. Ordinarily you try to act as though you aren’t in pain even when you are, tidying and running errands and forcing your way into the kitchen to help with dinner, but for hours now you’ve not wanted to do anything other than sit and breathe. Slow, deep breaths, like you’re trying to reside in your mind and not your body. Your hair is still wet from the warm bath James cajoled you into. Sirius is combing his fingers through it, gently working tangles out of the ends. 

“Still feeling sick, angel?” James asks you. 

You hum in quiet affirmation. Your eyes are closed, so you can’t see the pained helplessness that takes your boyfriend’s expression, but Remus does. He takes James’ hand between his own, rubbing over his knuckles. 

Sirius loosens a knot in your hair. “Do you think a distraction might help? We could read something.”

You mumble, as if even speech is too much, “I don’t think I could concentrate on anything. Sorry.” 

“You don’t have to be sorry, babydove,” Remus says gently. “Where is the pain the worst?” 

Again, your voice sounds labored. “In my face.” 

James makes a quiet, heartbroken sound. Though they all know that the location of your pain doesn’t indicate its intensity, Remus has to agree that the way you’ve described it in your face before sounds especially harrowing to him. Burns and aches behind your eyes, throbbing you can feel in your teeth. 

“What’s your level?” he asks. 

You continue taking deep breaths. None of the boys push you. Sometimes it takes you a while to find a rating for your pain, to force it into the context of all the flare-ups you’ve had before and assign it a number between one and ten. You tend to undershoot it anyway, so Remus knows that when you rate something a four it’s more likely a six, and a six is more likely a seven or an eight. 

“I think…” you say after a minute. “I think I want to go to A&E.” 

Behind you, Remus sees Sirius’ hands still in your hair, his eyes widening. He feels much the same. You never want to go to A&E. Your boyfriends have even mostly stopped suggesting it, your refusal is so guaranteed. 

“Oh, sweetheart.” James reaches for you, crestfallen, his hand clasping around your own. “It’s really bad, huh?”

Your quiet hum breaks Remus’ heart. “Can we?” you ask. 

Remus knows it has to be awful for you to ask. You don’t like to go to A&E, and you like even less than that the hassle of going, having to divulge your symptoms to your boyfriends and sit in waiting rooms and talk to doctors. There’s no possibility that this is a decision you came to lightly. 

So Remus tries not to make you regret it. 

“Yeah, lovely.” He gestures for James to go get the car keys, and Sirius starts easing a hand behind your back, helping you up. “Of course we can. Do you want your hot pack for the wait?” 

“Yes, please.” 

“I’ve got it!” James calls from the kitchen. You all hear the microwave turn on. 

“Thanks for telling us, sweetness.” Sirius kisses the side of your head. He’s supporting most of your weight, the tremor back in your leg now that you’re standing and your balance unsteady. 

“Thanks for helping,” you murmur. 

Sirius makes a quiet scoffing sound, levity feigned for your benefit. “Don’t thank us for that, we love helping you. We’re gonna get you some good help at the hospital too, okay?” 

Remus is going to make sure that’s true.

[elysiansparadise]

Using Saturn harmonious aspects in the composite chart

Although Saturn tells us about possible obstacles and limits, if we use the positive qualities of the planet, that is, effort, dedication and perseverance, we can experience the more lighter sides of Saturn. Likewise, the positive aspects can help weigh the effects by providing greater stability to the relationship.

With this post I intend to talk in more detail about how the positive aspects that other planets make with Saturn in the composite chart can help us with the tensions of Saturn, whether due to position or tense aspects.

🩶When we talk about the aspects between Saturn-Sun we find a fairly stable relationship, despite possible internal and external obstacles. There is a strong sense of responsibility towards each other and a genuine desire to do things right in the relationship. Both parties are willing to commit to the other and will forge in them the desire to build a relationship where both feel calm, supported and respected. They will always try to give priority to the other in their lives, they will admire each other and will stand out for being a strong couple. They will never seek to control the other and will always take them into account.

🩶With harmonious aspects between Saturn-Moon, emotions will be stable and long-lasting between them. They will work to make the relationship something genuinely comfortable for the other and will seek to cover or at least understand the emotional needs of the other. There will be a natural inclination to want to give each other a lot of happiness and comfort, they will support each other deeply and seek to be there for each other both physically and emotionally. They will never seek to upset the other or provoke tense emotions for fun, there will be a deep respect for the other's emotions and their limits.

🩶The aspects between Mercury-Saturn mean that this couple can talk about any topic, no matter how heavy it may be. They will not be afraid to touch on harsh or tense topics, and they will always listen to each other attentively. They will dislike talking over others, they will express themselves clearly and have clear priorities. The conversations between them can be deep, meaningful and very insightful, both will teach each other a lot and can be a great advisor to the other. Mutual admiration for intelligence, way of thinking or way of carrying oneself.

🩶Venus-Saturn harmonious aspects make the relationship something loving, full of attention and genuine affection for the other. This couple will be constant with their displays of affection and reaffirmations of their love. They will take time to get to know each other and love each other more and more in the process. A sincere, honest love in which they will want to give the best of themselves. There will be a strong commitment to love only the other in a deep, dedicated and unshakeable way. They will have a healthy relationship where they will see the most realistic sides of the relationship and truly feel the support and affection of their partner.

🩶Saturn-Mars aspects make this couple the true definition of a team, they will never seek to beat the other, nor see who is superior, rather they will appreciate and praise each other's abilities and potential. They will fight to get what they want like a power couple, there will be a lot of encouragement and they will motivate the other to be ambitious and go after what they want. They will be decisive in pursuing the other, their love and focus on the relationship will not waver whatever the situation or face whatever issues there may be. They will be rational, avoiding unnecessary conflicts and looking for solutions rather than blame.

🩶There will be a genuine desire to contribute positively to each other's lives with Jupiter-Saturn aspects. They will never want to be a headache or another bad experience for the other, they will want to carry out the relationship in a calm way in which both feel confident that they made the right choice being by each other's side. A lot of support and growth together, you will love to see how the other progresses whether on your own or holding your hand. There is a strong sense of responsibility between them and a lot of maturity. This relationship will be very healthy and they will be realistic with each other, without expecting the other to be what they want but loving them deeply for being who they are.

🩶If the couple has harmonious aspects between Uranus-Saturn, they will be able to face any kind of change with ease, even if it is difficult for one of the parties or both, they will show understanding and support for the other. They will have a lot of resilience and regardless of the external chaos, they will know that they can count on each other and their mutual dedication. Both will adapt more easily to each other, even if they are very different. They will contribute a lot to each other's lives and can bring both a certain order and stability as well as fun and new experiences, being receptive to both.

🩶With Neptune-Saturn aspects there is a strong devotion in both, as well as a healthy degree of compassion avoiding falling into victimization of the other. There is a strong need to support each other in every way, especially in wanting the other to be able to fulfill everything they dream or long for. They feel satisfaction and fulfillment when they see a genuine smile on each other's faces. Strong connection endowed with empathy and genuine affection. They show each other that reality can be beautiful and pleasant for the other, that they can relax and trust. It is a relationship as loving as it is stable.

🩶When Pluto makes harmonious aspects with Saturn, the couple can find it easy to find a balance, trusting each other and avoiding destructive power games. Both focus on building a solid relationship in which they feel supported. They never leave each other alone no matter what adversity they face and they make each other feel capable of dealing with everything. This couple will constantly work on improving themselves and will constantly appreciate each other's efforts. An unbreakable couple that did not hesitate to stand up for each other. They will bring very positive changes and you will feel like better people next to each other.

🩶When it comes to the Pallas-Saturn aspects we find a couple with excellent abilities to resolve their problems and issues that may arise. They will like to plan many things, whether in the short or long term, and they will give their all to fulfill the things they promise. They will be sensible with each other, they will seek to understand each other before giving their opinion or acting and they will never try to judge each other. They will be very direct and honest with each other, they will appreciate that their partner says what they think freely. Both will be a strong team that will always make decisions considering the other.

🩶The aspects between Ceres-Saturn make the couple very giving and attentive to the other, they will give each other attention, they will have meaningful gestures with the other and they will want the other to have tangible demonstrations of their affection and how important they are in the life of the other. This couple feels committed to caring for each other and consistently providing emotional and physical support. They will care about the well-being of others in all areas, and will prioritize it before anything else. When the day is tense, they know that they can take refuge in each other for understanding and tenderness.

🩶Juno, beyond talking to us about marriage and love, tells us about something very important: commitment, a word that Saturn loves. Both of you, whether in the early stages of the relationship or not, will know that this person is worth it. They will strive to make things work, coming to see the other as someone with whom they would like to have a life together. The Juno-Saturn harmonious aspects make both take the relationship seriously, do not seek to play with each other or their emotions and seek to form a very stable bond through emotional and material acts. There is a very strong loyalty towards each other and what they have formed together, they would not change the relationship for anything.

🩶When we talk about strong levels of devotion it is necessary to appreciate the aspects between Vesta-Saturn. Both will be deeply devoted, loyal and giving in the relationship, making great efforts to ensure that warmth, passion and commitment are evident between both of them. There is a deep affection that goes beyond the physical, the other is a source of strength, inspiration and seems to awaken an unusual spark. Willingness to give a lot for the other in an equitable way, to put the relationship at the top of priorities and to give so much time and energy without complaining or without hesitation.

🩶Chiron-Saturn aspects make the couple be understanding and patient with each other, they will never force themselves to do things they don't want to do and they will try to understand where the other's wounds come from so as not to repeat them or trigger them. There is a strong ideal of not wanting to harm others anymore and provide strength, as well as accompanying each other in the healing process. They both work together to build a stronger, healthier relationship through understanding their mutual wounds or insecurities. They feel stronger emotionally with each other and fully trust that the other will never intend to harm them.

🩶With the harmonious aspects between Saturn-North Node, this couple sees their purpose together clearly. There will be a strong focus on creating and maintaining stability in the relationship, you will both plan for the long term and be able to be together for a long time. There are bases of trust, reliability and a dedication towards the other and the relationship. By being with the other, they know what they want, there is conviction, they perceive themselves as something that is valuable to pursue and they trust that at their side they have a partner with the same dedication to the relationship. 

[concretejunglefm]

Wonderland.

Summary: You wanted so badly to be in the studio with Noah while he's working but couldn't keep quiet when he asked you to. You obviously wanted to be part of the song you were being so loud, well now here you go.

CW: smut including fingering (f receiving), praising, use of a toy (bullet), illusions towards exhibitionism, overstimulation and multiple orgasms.

Dividers: Silent-stories.

AN: this is a series in collaboration with @collisionofyourkissmakesitsohard which the masterlist of can be found here.

Tagged: @fadingangelwisp @blade-dressed-in-red @deathblacksmoke @collisionofyourkissmakesitsohard @geminigirlfromfinland @fuck1ng-queen @lacy1986lacy1986 @ichoosetenderomens (lmk if you'd like to be tagged)

Smut below the cut 🔞 Minors DNI.

"Can we get another take for that part, Jol?" Noah asks, leaning away from the mic before coming closer as the music starts.

You're sitting beside Matt on the couch Noah has in the studio, watching in awe as he does his thing. It's a talent you find yourself constantly captivated by, but as you hear Matt utter a comment in your ear, you can't help but let out a giggle, quickly holding your hand up to your mouth and covering it as Noah comes to a stop again, clearing his throat with an obvious disgruntled sound.

"Sorry." You wince and press your lips together in another attempt not to laugh as Matt stifles his own.

"I said that you could be in here so long as you were quiet and you." He fixes Matt with a glare. "Should know better."

Matt raises his hands in mock surrender while you lift your own, bringing two fingers against the side of your head in a playful salute. "Yes, boss." It led both you and Matt into laughing once more, and with a sigh, Noah steps back from the mic.

“Alright, we'll wrap it up for today." Noah declares to Jolly, joining him in checking over the saved files before ushering him out of the room, followed by Matt.

"What? Come on, baby. I said I was sorry. I promise to be quiet this time." You try to sway his decision, but he's already sending his friends off and leaving you alone in his studio as he says his goodbyes.

It wasn't the first time that you'd made a sound or been told by him to be quiet. You knew how important his music was to him, how focused he became in these moments, and you felt a twinge of guilt that you had caused him to derail those plans for the day.

Getting up from the couch, you look over to Noah as he re-enters the studio, instantly addressing you as you walk towards him.

"Uh, where do you think you're going?"

"I thought you were finished?"

"With them, yes. But I haven't even gotten started with you yet."

It took a moment to process his words before you recognized the flicker of something in his eyes. It wasn't annoyance, at least not anymore; his frustration had pooled with another kind: arousal.

"Oh." The look he gives you alone is enough to make you squeeze your thighs together, feeling the familiar tingle in your stomach at the thought of what's to come as a smirk breaks out across Noah's face.

"Yeah, oh. Now take a seat. We're going to try this again." He gestures you back to the couch, gripping you by your shoulders as he guides you backwards towards it and once dropping down into it, he uses his foot to gently spread apart your legs and grabs the nearby desk chair, pulling towards him and sitting there before rolling himself close to you.

"You understand how important this is, don't you?" He asks, pushing his knees between your legs to prevent you from closing them as he leans forward and lays his hands on your thighs, stroking slowly up along them.

"Of course, baby." You reach out to lay your hands on his arms, giving them a reassuring squeeze. Your intention hadn't been to disturb him.

"So you'll understand that we have to keep going until we get this take right, won't you?"

"Yes!"

"Good, because I'm going to need your help."

You feel his hands slipping further up your thighs until they're pushing beneath your Bad Omens hoodie that you wear at home out of comfort and warmth, and he's undoing your jeans, quick to tug them down. Any words you were about to say are cut off as he pulls your jeans off and tosses them aside, leaving you in just your panties from the waist down, but they're soon slipped from you too as he grips your legs and spreads them, pushing you further down into the couch so you're fully on display for him.

"Good girl." You hear him utter under your breath, and it makes you gasp as you feel yourself growing wetter from just the soft praise alone.

Noah's fingers idly stroke along your inner thighs while he hums softly, the melody sounding familiar to the one which had been playing during his recording session. "Now, I need you to be good and hold your legs like this for me, okay?"

"O..okay." You nod and follow his gentle guidance as he takes your hands and brings them beneath your thighs, making you keep yourself spread out for him.

When he stands up, he leans down and captures your mouth in a heated kiss, and you can't help the whimper which slips out from you. You easily submit to him like this, whether intentionally or not, you can't help but feel yourself easily and willingly becoming his plaything.

"Such a sweet girl." He whispers against your lips, as his fingers gently hold your chin, and his dark gaze briefly locks onto your own lustful eyes. You can see the heat in them, the want which is coursing through him, and that just makes you want and need him more.

"Noah." You breathe out, and he shushes you before planting a softer, lighter kiss to your lips.

Pulling himself away, he crosses the studio space towards the computer, and you hear a few clicks being carried out before he returns back over to you, carrying over a portable microphone and placing it just on the edge of the couch.

"Now, what do I have planned for you, you ask?" You search his face for a sign of anything, but he's holding his cards close to his chest, even his smirk not giving anything away as he takes a seat back down on the chair opposite you. "You wanted to be loud, baby. You obviously wanted to be part of the song, so here we are."

You offer him a slight confused expression, your brows furrowing while waiting for him to elaborate.

He doesn't.

Instead, he retrieves a familiar bullet vibrator from his pocket and switches it on, rotating through the numerous settings before turning it back off and bringing it towards his mouth to wet it.

Bringing the bullet down towards your inner thigh, he turns it back on and as you feel the vibration against your skin, it travels up and between your thighs, causing you to tremble as you feel the low vibrations spread closer to your pussy with its slow travel along your inner thigh. You can't help the moan that falls from your lips and you watch Noah's expression brighten as he hears you.

"That's my girl." He praises and as he inches higher, the sounds you let free become a little louder. He hasn't even touched you yet, not properly, but the vibration which travels along your thigh and straight towards your clit already has you feeling more worked up. "Now, we'll keep going and you'll keep making those pretty noises until I feel like we've gotten the best take, understand?"

Your eyes widen with the explanation he gives, finally putting together the pieces of an obvious puzzle; telling Matt and Jolly to leave, stripping you halfway down, the microphone and now the bullet.

Right as you go to open your mouth and respond, he meets the bullet against your pussy, feeling the vibration against your folds before he pushes it between and teases it against your clit. All words slip away from your mind, all but one as you begin moaning his name, instinctively raising your hips to meet the bullet.

"Listen to that. Listen to how pretty you sound. This was what you wanted, right? To be loud for me?"

Every word he says coaxes you further as he holds the bullet to your clit, making you tremble in place before he drags it away, teasing down towards your cunt, only to trace back up and tease circles around your clit once more. With his free hand, he strokes along your thigh, gently praising you and guiding you towards the climax he knows is building.

You almost hate how in tune with your body he is because anyone else could fake it, you could easily argue back, but Noah knew every way you sounded or moved when an orgasm was near.

"Are you going to cum for me, pretty girl? Are you going to finally be a good girl for me?"

You hear that bite in ‘finally,' and if your head wasn't being made dizzy by the sensation of his voice, touch, and the bullet alone, you'd have sniped back. You know he does it on purpose, drags you up high just to make his own playful jabs because that's when you lose all senses and have none to snipe back.

"Yes! Noah, yes!" You call out as your moans grow louder and higher, almost losing sound at all as they become caught in your throat with the sudden tremble of your climax. Throwing your head back against the couch, your legs begin to shake, digging your fingers into your thighs as you attempt to hold yourself up for him. The entire time, you can hear him talking you through it, and when the wave of pleasure washes over you, his hand is on your thigh while he pushes the bullet firmly against your aching clit, feeling it throb against the cool plastic while your hips buck as you ride the wave out.

The pleasure is near high, and you're barely down from it before you feel Noah kissing along your jaw and meeting your lips. You reciprocate, though it's half-hearted and sloppy from still in your dazed state, and you practically purr as you hear the offerings of praise being whispered against your lips.

"Such a good girl for me, but I think that we can get a better take than that."

You barely have time to register his words before you feel his fingers sinking into your wet cunt, making you moan even louder as he purposely drags them slowly within you, listening to the sounds you make as he quickens and slows them. You squirm beneath his touch, the added pressure of the bullet against your sensitive clit making you whine, and you can hear the taunt in his tone as he tsk-tsks at you.

Opening your eyes, you meet his gaze, his smirk still plastered fully across his face as he assures you.

"Just one more take, I promise."

Something you hear him repeating again and again for at least five more times as he takes pleasure in dragging you up just to push you over the edge and work you around again, overstimulating you beyond your own comprehension.

[cokou]

𝚃𝚛𝚊𝚏𝚊𝚕𝚐𝚊𝚛 𝙻𝚊𝚠 × 𝙵! 𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

sum. an unknown substance had hit your face causing you distress, Law helped you rid of it. ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ tw. sex pollen. office sex. rough sex. ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ a/n. I love this trope and was kinda hoping to write it one day, which is this day!! Hope you guys enjoy :3 // do not translate or transfer to any other platforms, this is my only account, will not be crossposted anywhere. POLL DECISION.<33

As soon as the submarine resurfaced, you couldn't help but explore the newly discovered Island that was infront of your very eyes. Getting off the ship then walking to explore the forest like Island, you left trail remembrance of ribbons in each tree branches. While on your walk, you acknowledge all plant types that you come across of, such as tree's with various sizes, or various patterns of green, even small bushes that grew kinds of small red berries.

Walking around and distinguishing which berries or fruits are edible and poisonous, you come across a vine with a strange leaf and flower pattern, the flower being bigger than the vines itself, causing the vines to slowly give up on it. The flowers color hue was different, it was shaded a blackish red that faded into a greyish pink towards the middle. The vines were deep green colored and it grew thorns on it.

Curiousity took over you as you recalled all vines that you had studied on a book you had recently bought, most types of growable plants were there, but you certainly haven't come across this one. As you leaned your face closer to examine it, it's scent took over, the scent was flowery, sweet, and it reeked the smell of freshly cut grass.

Leaning your fingers through the vines, you touched the flower. As you tried picking it up, it squirted a pollen into your face, latching itself into your eye, causing you to scream at the sudden pain. As the others scream your name behind you, asking if you were okay. You had told them that something had just gotten into your eyes and that it wasn't such a big of a deal.

As the sun sets and the sky turns darker, you all had decided to call it a day and head back into the submarine before anything bad happens outside. Walking back behind several crewmates, you felt a burning sensation across your whole body, your mouth turned watery as heat pools between your legs. You had thought that you were just tired, or maybe even hungry and shrugged off the sudden feeling.

But as you make your way to your room, you felt the heat through your body again, rethinking about the way pollen had gotten into your eyes from the flower earlier, making you a tad bit concerned. You backed away from your room and proceeded to find your captains whereabouts to let him know what had happen. By the time you had catched him inside his office, you couldn't help but feel irresistibly horny.

—

"So you're telling me that a powdery substance got into your face, and that now you feel like you're burning?" Law makes sure that he had heard you correctly as you identify all the details of what had happened earlier.

"y-yeah, and I'm telling you— it's getting worser." As you finished the sentence, your cheeks had grown an even more pinkish hue.

"..That isn't likely to happen, what type of flower- or vine was it?" Even more confused, Law had no idea of what vine nor flower you talking about, talk about bad day.

"Well, it had a blackish red color and a bit greyish by the middle, and— the vines were dark green.." You were such sweaty mess right now, it's taking such a huge toll on your personality, causing you to slighty hump the chairs edge as you urge yourself to masturbate under the table while consulting Law, or just fuck it and take Law right here in his office.

"Hmm, well you do have a book th—"

"Fuck it Law! Please, take me right here right now!" As you ball your fist onto your thighs, having your thoughts win, you felt a pang of embarrassment wash over you.

Law looked towards you shockingly, examining how your face was bright red, and how you were 'burning'. He finally understood what you were trying to ring up on his mind. It wasn't any type of regular pollen that had brushed through you, it had some sort of aphrodisiac on it, causing your behavior to be distressed.

"Come here." He gestured you towards his lap. You obeyed him and made your way infront of him, slowly lowering yourself onto his thighs.

You felt his hands hold your hips, wasting no time, he lowered your bottoms all the way towards your ankles. Unzipping his pants, he lowers it to his knees together with his boxers, freeing his semi-hard cock, giging it a few pumps to harden its current state. He positions your legs onto his arms, and slowly lifting you up.

He latches you towards his cock, your wetness being enough to lube both of you up.

"Are you sure?" Taking a moment to reassure that you'll be fine with this.

"y-yeah, please." You reassured him.

Satisfied with your answer, he decides to slowly move you on his cock, making you bite a moan out of your lips. He continued thrusting you onto him slowly, making sure that you'll be just fine on his hands.

"No— don't hold back, please!" You held his hands, which were holding onto your legs.

Law hesitates with your order, but gives in as he knows that with your situation right now, you'd probably need it. Without a warning, his grip tightens and he continues thrusting you onto his cock faster.

The harder you contain yourself from biting back your moans, you eventually give up, your lips swollen from your teeth biting against it, causing blood to form on it. You released a low moan, enough to be heard by Law, followed with a much louder one, as you get used to letting out noises for him to hear.

Law jolts as you released a stream of moans from your mouth, causing his dick to twitch inside you. Feeling his dick grow inside you, your moans increase volume enough for the whole room to hear. Law hugs your figure whilst still holding your knees and thrusted harder and faster inside you.

You felt heat rushing through you as you about to hit your edge, you warned him with your upcoming release and he nods in response. A bit later, you felt climax jolt onto you as you released on his cock, embarrassment pangs through you as you realized what you just did.

Law slows his pace and continues thrusting inside you, making you release shaky breaths and panting. Law didn't stop even when you had reached your climax, now you felt a second one coming through. His pace once again picked up, being faster than earlier.

"L-Law— i'm, c-coming again—" warning him with your upcoming orgasm again, his pace picks up once again— this time it felt like volts of light colliding, your skins producing noises that you sworn could be heard miles away, your moans being louder and clearer, it was obvious that he was close.

"m'close— (name).."

"i-inside me— please!" As his pace slows down, you felt his release deep inside you, it was warm, warm enough to feed the coldness of his office.

He removes you from him, his release dripping off your entrance.

"Better?" He was panting and out of breath.

"Yes, thank you—" You stood up while holding onto the table for dear life.

"We should get you cleaned up, especially your face, you wouldn't want that happening again do you?" He leads you into the bathroom and hands you a towel.

If it meant by Law fucking you like that, maybe you shouldve preserved that little flower that gave you trouble, right? Definitely.

©Cokou 2024,all works belong to me. DO NOT TRANSLATE OR TRANSFER!

[vettelsvee]

GOODBYES ARE BITTERSWEET | Sebastian Vettel ✩₊˚.⋆ PART 1: I'LL SEE YOUR FACE AGAIN [NEXT PART]

goodbyes are bittersweet masterlist f1 masterlist | ao3 | requests or let's talk!

rb sebastian vettel x gf!reader

word count: 4095

summary: seb's gf finds out she's pregnant, and she decides that hiding her pregnancy is the best she could do due to seb's career

warnings: pregnancy, mentions of cheating, curse words, angst, fighting. set on may 2013. for a bit of background: reader and seb have been friends since they were literal babies, but growing up their feelings changed and started dating on 2006.

a/n: this is actually the first chapter of the very first series, Infinity, i posted here! i had to cancel it because i had some problems with wattpad people telling me through indirects i copied their work and i got very, very unmotivated with this story i absolutely love (when actually this was a draft I had of a tom holland fic back in 2017 lol), but i'd love to post the following parts if you like this one! feedback is appreciated, as well as reblogs <3

© VETTELSVEE (2024). please, do not steal, copy or translate my works. thanks for reading!

You pulled the flush and got up, being careful not to get dizzy. You took some paper and wiped the corners of your mouth to remove any possible traces of vomit. You headed to the sink automatically, quickly pulling out the toothbrush you’ve gotten used to carrying since nausea became part of your daily routine. You really tried to get rid of the acidity in your throat and the bad taste in your mouth, but as you expected, and knowing you've been experiencing this more times than you'd like in the past month and a half, it was impossible.

"Y/N, are you still there? Are you okay?" Britta's voice, accompanied by a few knocks on the door, snapped you out of your trance. You startled and forced yourself to answer, even though it was the last thing you feel like doing.

"Yes, I’m coming. Just a sec!"

"Don’t take too long," she replied. "Not that I don’t want you to take your time, but Seb is worried."

Panic-stricken, you suppressed a laugh that almost escaped.

If only he knew what you were about to do…

"Don’t worry, I’ll be right out," you answered.

You stared at yourself in the mirror, contemplating your own reflection longer than you’d like. Minutes passed, and you almost completely lost track of time, aware that you needed to put an end to the intrusive thought that was telling you that what you were about to do was, wrong but inevitably the best thing.

You were going to break away from everything you’ve wanted since you were a child just because things hadn't turned out "right." Seb was at the peak of his professional career, constantly surpassing himself in every race, making history, while you remained stuck in your hometown, working at a bar, dealing with drunks and immature kids pretending to be adults daily, because you didn’t have the luck, or perhaps the financial means, to study what you had dreamed of since you were a child who just wanted to make music.

You leaned on the sink, feeling the cold starting to penetrate your body. A great tremor shook you, and it became increasingly difficult to stay on your feet. Your eyes filled with tears as you confronted the reality of what you were about to do, of the decision you'd made.

Since your boyfriend began not only achieving his dreams but making a name for himself, you thought you didn’t deserve him because you were heading in the opposite direction. Now that you’ve gotten pregnant by him, possibly because the birth control pills you were taking failed for some unknown reason, you felt like this even more.

Despite the love you still felt and possibly always will feel for Sebastian, since you took the pregnancy test with Hanna at one of the most secluded malls in Heppenheim, you knew that letting him know he was going to be a father was never part of your plans.

"Come on, Y/N…" you told yourself, still staring at your reflection. "This is for Seb. You're doing this for him and his career."

You took a deep breath a couple more times, feeling the knot in your throat choking you. You looked at the girl full of insecurities you were one more time. Her eyes reflected doubt and, above all, fear, and you sadly sensed that it will continue to be this way from now on.

Trying to control yourself, you slowly opened the bathroom door, as if wanting to torture yourself. Britta was sitting in one of the chairs, reviewing something in a notebook until you closed the door a bit harder than you meant to.

"Are you really okay?" she asked again, giving you an uncertain look. "I've been hearing you vomit for several weeks now. Don’t you think you should go to the doctor?"

The knot in your throat seemed to tighten even more. See a doctor… Of course you’d been to the doctor! Four weeks and, as of today, four days pregnant was the answer, but no one beyond your parents and your best friend could know.

"Yes, I’m fine," you replied quickly, trying to fake your answer as best as you could. "Don’t worry. It’s probably just a bit of stress," you added, praying she believed you. "I haven't had time to see a doctor, but I assure you, with all my heart, that everything is fine."

And that's why you're leaving the love of your life today.

Britta seemed to hesitate for a moment. Her lips remained slightly open, as if she wanted to say something. Her look gave you the feeling that she didn't quite believe what you were saying.

"Whatever you say, Y/N," she finally said, standing up from her seat. "But seriously, if you need to talk or anything, I’m here for you."

"I know."

"Well, seeing that you're as calm as a lake, we’d better hurry up," she told you. "The last free practice session is about to start, and Seb is probably worried why we haven’t come back yet."

You prepared to leave the room with her. You were more than sure to go with her, but as you were almost out the room, you realize it was now or never.

You stopped before going from the driver’s room to the garage, watching Britta hurry down the stairs, probably aware that you were running late even though there were still about forty-five minutes before the session started.

"Wait, Britta. Just a sec!"

You were convinced your shout from the top of the stairs was heard by more people than you’d like. You wished you could turn invisible as you saw some eyes on you, including Britta’s, which made it hard to speak, and not to mention the variety of emotions you were feeling inside you.

You needed to calm down and act a bit better, or everything you’d been mulling over will end up falling apart.

"I’d like to talk to Seb… alone," you finally said.

"Y/N Y/L/N," she said your name much more seriously now. "You’ve told me that everything is fine, but… are you sure it really is? Are you sure nothing’s wrong?"

No, everything is wrong, and yes, more things are happening than I’d like.

You knew you could trust Britta completely. You were sure that if you told her the news before you did to Seb, she wouldn’t say anything, at least not right away. You wanted to do it; in fact, you’d love to do it because she was like a second mother to you, but you knew you couldn't because, once you left, there’s a really high chance she might end up telling him everything in a moment of weakness.

"Yes, yes, I’m fine. It’s nothing serious, don’t worry," you replied with a sigh, trying to console the PR woman and yourself. "I just need to talk to him about… well, a minor issue."

"Of course. Go get him, I’ll wait here. He’s probably talking to Rocky or Horner about who knows what. He hasn’t gone far, especially considering how eager he was to see you."

"Can you get him for me?" you let it out casually.

You ignored her last comment because now, your nerves were eating you alive. Britta seemed to notice your anxiety, so you were grateful she ignored it and acted as if nothing is wrong.

You sighed in relief when you saw her nod, and you couldn't stop thanking her out loud for what she just did for you.

"Lie down on the physio’s couch and try to rest a bit, you look a bit pale," she insisted. Reluctantly, and after repeating it a couple more times, you finally listened to her. "Seb will be here soon. You know he’ll drop everything when it comes to you."

And it was true. Once she left, you remained lying down, drawing small shapes on your stomach with your index finger. As you whispered things to what would supposedly be your child, a whirlwind of varied thoughts flooded your mind.

A small pressure settled in your chest as you became aware that the idea of breaking up with Sebastian was becoming a reality. You didn't want to face it and largely refused to, but you knew that for both of you, especially him, it was actually the best.

Hiding the truth from the guy you’d loved longer than you’d like to admit is exactly the opposite of what you should do, but because he was the most important person in your life, and you knew him almost as well as yourself, you knew he'd have time to play moms and dads in real life.

This year, the only thing he should focus on was winning his fourth Formula 1 World Championship, not learning how to change diapers or feed a baby.

Your thoughts vanished when the door opened abruptly, startling you. Seb appeared with his suit hanging at his waist, hair completely tousled, and a face revealing worry matching the situation you haven’t told him about yet.

"Sunshine! Britta told me you’re not well. What happened? Do you want to go to the doctor? I don’t care about missing the free practice: you’re the most important thing."

The German quickly took your cheeks in his hands. You hadn’t even sat up, and he was already trying to warm your face with his palms, moving it from side to side and examining you as if he was a doctor with the solution to your problems.

"I’m fine, love, relax," you said, breaking free from his grip.

"I know you better than I’d like, Y/N. You’re pale," he pointed out. "You rarely get pale. The last time I saw you like this was when the police chased us after they caught you doing an illegal concert in the school square."

Your anxiety grew more at his perception. You couldn't hide the lie you concocted with Hanna for much longer.

"Seb, really, I’m fine," you insisted, swallowing hard as you tried to find the right words.

He didn't seem to agree with your answer once again, and he didn't seem willing to let it go easily.

For a moment, you were tempted to tell him the truth, especially when you noticed his eyes fixed on you, not intending to look away until he found out what you really wanted to say… As if he wants to know that he was going to be a father next January if your gynecologist’s calculations and the latest technology were correct.

You mustered the courage to look him in the eyes. His concern overwhelmed you completely. When he made a move to hug you and you fell into his arms, you knew you couldn't keep dodging the truth.

"Seb…" you started to say, slowly pulling away from him, "the truth is that... well, there's something wrong."

He clenched his jaw and got very serious.

"Tell me, Y/N. Whatever it is, you know you can tell me."

"I know, love. I want to tell you everything, but…" you began calmly, your voice breaking. "This is different, and it’s going to be a bit difficult."

"What do you mean by different and difficult? Y/N, what’s going on?"

Your hands fidgeted nervously as you tried to find the best way to cause him the least harm possible. You noticed that the German's nervous and worried tone had dissipated, and now it was anger that seemed to be consuming him.

"I want to tell you, but I don’t know how to do it without hurting you," you admitted in a whisper.

There it was, you had let it slip.

You didn’t know what else to say, so you decided to wait for Sebastian’s response. Anguish had taken hold of him, and you knew he was waiting for your words as much as you were waiting for his.

His behavior wasn’t helping you; on the contrary, the feeling of guilt was consuming you, as you had foreseen, but there was no turning back now.

It was impossible for you to even think coherently enough to say something that made sense.

You watched as your boyfriend’s gaze turned into pure pain, a pleading search for answers that you didn’t dare to give him.

"Seb…" you spoke again, struggling to maintain your composure and reaching for his hand at the same time. "I need you to listen to me, please."

"I just want you to tell me the truth, Y/N," he called you by your full name. That was the indicator that things weren’t going well and wouldn’t be again. "Whatever it is, I’ll be able to deal with it."

"I don’t want us to be together anymore," you declared. "I’m not in love with you anymore. I haven’t been for about a month or so."

The silence that flooded the room after your false confession was too uncomfortable. His eyes filled with tears; yours did too, but for a different reason than his.

He thought you had stopped loving him when, in fact, you loved him more than ever, especially now.

"Why are you telling me this? Why, Y/N?" he wanted to know. "I thought we were great… I really believed we were better than ever."

"I don’t know, Seb," you murmured between sobs, trying to hide your face so he wouldn’t see how truly affected you were. "There are… there are couples that stop loving each other, and that’s what I think has happened with me. With us."

"What can I do to make you fall in love with me again? I can’t lose you. I can’t lose the sunshine of my life, not when we promised each other a life together."

"You can’t do anything, Seb, and I’m really sorry," you falsely admitted with sadness, trying not to succumb to his desperate plea.

"Sometimes things stop being what they were in the beginning, and, well… ours is no longer what it used to be."

"Of course, it’s not what it used to be! Everything was getting better until you decided to drop this on me, Y/N!" Sebastian yelled at you.

"I was even going to ask you if you wanted us to get…"

"And that’s why I feel it’s better if we move on, but each on our own path!" you interrupted with another shout.

It’s not real, Y/N. Everything you’re saying is a lie.

You inhaled and exhaled more times than you would have liked, but it felt necessary. This charade to try to make Seb’s life a little better was not only costing you your relationship but also your mental health in the long run.

"Is there someone else, Y/N?"

Vettel's voice denoted anger. Rage consumed him at the possibility that there was an answer he didn’t want to hear. His fists, clenched tightly and turning his knuckles white, were proof of it.

"No, not exactly."

And once again, the camouflaged truth.

"What are you saying?" he spat at you, getting closer and closer, consumed by anguish.

"I mean not exactly, but… yes. There is someone else, Seb," you admitted.

The shouts, full of reproaches, insults, and slurs, flooded the room.

You tried to turn a deaf ear. You thought this was all part of a performance and tried to convince yourself that in the future, everything would be fine when you knew it would be the opposite.

"How could you do this to me, Y/N?! How could you cheat on me after almost seven fucking years together?!" Sebastian shouted, taking out his anger on a vase on his desk, throwing it to the ground, spilling the water and the flowers he had given you just a day ago.

"We’ve been through so many things together. We’ve grown up together and fulfilled our dreams together, and now you’re leaving me for some guy you must have slept with on a whim?!"

"Do you think this is easy for me, Sebastian?" you replied, your words true for once. "Stop lying, okay? The only person who has fulfilled their dreams here is you," you said, showing your disagreement on that topic that you knew hurt you and that he had mentioned to hurt you. "While you’ve been living your life as a driver and being the center of attention, I’ve kept working in the same disgusting bar full of creepy old men I’ve been working at since I finished high school," you shouted, furious. You knew this kind of stress wasn’t good for the baby, but right now you didn’t care. "I’ve been saving as much as I could to build a prosperous future even though my salary was a pittance, composing songs and singing them with the hope that they’ll reach someone someday and not be forgotten."

"I’ve told you a million times that you don’t need to work in that fucking bar full of drunk old men who fuck you with their eyes to have a good life," he protested, now much calmer. "With what they pay me we can live comfortably. It's more than enough for both of us."

"I know," you responded calmly, though you were on the verge of an anxiety attack, "but I also know that I can achieve things on my own without anyone’s help."

The blonde let out an ironic laugh. Immediately, he crossed his arms, lifted his head, and looked at you.

"You’ve always been too stubborn, Y/N. Now I see what your future expectations are. After all, I understand: if you never got into the Berlin Art Academy on your own, and you’re still working at the same place after so long…"

You stood still, not knowing what to say or do because you knew exactly what he meant with every word that came out of his mouth. It felt like your feet were cemented to the ground; his words continuously hitting you, wanting to hurt you more and more.

"How dare you to say that to me?"

If you were already shaken and almost broken after this whole conversation, now you were completely sunk. Seeing your reaction, tears streaming down your cheeks non-stop, he seemed to regret it.

Quickly, he approached you, opening his arms intending for you to bury yourself in them. You, as stubborn as he said you were, refused not only the hug but any physical and non-physical contact he wanted to have with you.

"Y/N, I’m sorry… I didn’t mean to say that," yes, that was clear, but it had already been said, and the damage was done. "I was wrong. Please forgive me."

No matter how much he kept talking, trying to apologize and make amends, there was nothing else to do.

Without saying anything else, you began to gather all your belongings from the driver’s room of who could now be considered your ex-boyfriend. You didn’t want to do it; you didn’t want to start the zero-contact phase with the boy you had loved since you were ten years old, the one who had loved you like no one ever had before and like no one ever would.

You were saying goodbye to the father of your child to venture into raising her alone so he could pursue his dream in peace and achieve all the successes he so longed for.

“What are you doing, Y/N?”

“Packing. I’m leaving.”

Your eyes were fixed on the floor, your hands fumbling with the few belongings left to pack in the small backpack you usually took to the paddock. Now, you would have to return to your hotel room and quickly pack everything into the suitcase, rush to the airport, and pray you didn’t miss the flight.

“What do you mean, you’re leaving?” the blonde frowned, incredulous. “It’s Friday, Y/N, we have the whole weekend ahead of us.”

“Well, from now on, you’ll have all the weekends to yourself,” you shook your head, unable to bear his comments trying to make you stay. “From now on, you won’t have me here on weekends, nor in your life. I’m leaving your life, and I’m not coming back,” you repeated, emphasizing the finality of your words.

Vettel was speechless at your declaration. He kept shaking his head, approaching you, trying to take your belongings, but you stopped him.

No matter how much you wanted to, you weren’t going to stay.

“What do you mean by ‘leaving my life and not coming back’?”

“It means I’m going back to Heppenheim, Sebastian,” you turned to him, trying to maintain composure. “I’m going back, you’ll also end up going back even though we live… you live in Switzerland,” you immediately corrected yourself, “but I hope we never see each other again.”

The firmness behind your words scared you. Everything was a lie that, as the conversation progressed, had grown until you doubted what was real and what wasn’t.

“I really hope you achieve everything you are working hard for,” you continued, insisting to yourself not to break down right there. “I hope you win the championship this year and get the four consecutive ones you’ve wanted for. You, more than anyone, deserve all of it, and I know you’re capable of that and much more.”

You said nothing more because you had stopped being strong. You left, without looking back, the room where you had spent much more time than imaginable, and one of the many places that made up the story starring Sebastian Vettel and you.

You carefully descended the stairs. You walked with a false sense of security through the RedBull garage, dodging any questions about why you were crying, where you were going, and if you had argued with the team’s golden boy, including the endless questions from Britta Roeske that you were trying to ignore at all costs.

You felt curious eyes following you wherever you went, but you didn’t care in the slightest. It was all done.

Now, it was just you and the little pea, or whatever size the baby was.

“Y/N, wait!”

Sebastian’s desperate shouts echoed behind you, getting closer.

You stopped dead, clutching the only strap of the backpack hanging over your shoulder. You slowly turned toward the direction the voices seemed to be coming from and saw the driver running to you, almost choking, as he wiped tears from his cheeks and even those still falling from his eyes.

“I love you, Y/N.”

His voice was choked, and his hands acted on their own. Still, it didn’t stop him from taking your face in his hands and pulling you into a kiss that unleashed a whirlwind of emotions, where you tasted each other’s tears as you had done many times in your relationship. Where you silently said millions of I love yous that only you and he knew perfectly.

“Please, don’t go, sunshine,” the German expressed. “Whatever it is, we can work on it, but please, don’t let us end.”

“I love you too, Seb, but there’s someone else.”

You finally confessed… not in the most ideal way, but in the right one, especially considering what your goal was after all this trail of lies.

“There’s a new person in my life, and I’m afraid to say that no matter how much I love you, I love them more than I love you, and I always will,” you continued, knowing that every word you were saying about your baby was true. “I love you, Sebastian Vettel, and I’ll never stop loving you, but that person is my main priority right now.”

“Have you been unfaithful?”

Sometimes silence is worth more than a thousand words. In this case, it was the exact opposite.

You stood in front of him for a few seconds, debating internally whether to answer or leave as calmly as possible, without attracting more attention than you already had. You decided on the latter because you couldn’t speak, and the tears wouldn’t let you see clearly; not to mention your judgment was so clouded that you couldn’t think clearly about the next step to end this nightmare.

You finally directed one last look at Seb; whispered that you loved him and always would, even though it was over between you.

All it took was for you to lower your head, turn around, and continue walking, fighting not to look back, to realize that you had made the biggest mistake of your life and would never, for anything in the world, be able to forgive yourself.

And you knew perfectly well that Seb wouldn’t either.