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inlovewithpandora · 2 years ago

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- Forever Doesn’t Last -

Pairing: Neteyam (20) x Omatikaya fem! reader (19)

Request: Yes || No

Based on this request

Synopsis: You caught your boyfriend cheating on you and the next day he dumped you for her. Your heart was shattered and your best friend Neteyam was there to help pick up the pieces. Neteyam was hoping this would be his opportunity to make you see him as more than a friend.

Content: childhood bestfriends to lovers, angst, comfort, fluff, infidelity, mentions of sex, arguing, mentions of STD’s (you’ll see why) mild swearing

Author’s Note:

- idk if Na’vi are actually able to get STD’s or have a form of their own but for the sake of this story let’s pretend they can😭

- italicized words indicate a flashback

- if you see mistakes please excuse them

Word Count: 4.1k

Extra: Likes, Comments, and Reblogs are highly appreciated🩷!

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Darkness.

That's all you felt, all you could see.

You haven't left your pod in days, the way you felt currently was like someone came and stomped on your heart. As you sat in the darkness of your pod the past events that caused you to be in this condition played through your head.

You and your boyfriend Tawal haven't been spending that much time together because he told you he's been busy with warrior training which you understood. You decided to make his favorite meal and bring it to him as a surprise so the both of you could spend quality time together.

As you walked closer to his pod you could hear faint noises, 'what is that?' you thought to yourself. As you got closer walking ever so quietly you begin to hear a woman's voice, "Yes! T-Tawal j-just like that" You heard the unknown woman moan out in pleasure.

The curtain to his pod was slightly open so you could see Tawal rutting into her as lewd noises evaded the woman and Tawal's mouth. As you watched them your eyes began to water. You couldn't believe the man you loved decided to cheat on you and screw this woman. You wanted to barge in there and rip his head off but you didn't instead, you went home and cried yourself to sleep.

The next day as you clean around your pod, you heard someone's footsteps enter "Good morning" you heard Tawal say as he sat down at your table "Where is my breakfast? You usually have breakfast prepared for me when I come over" He looked at you confused as to why this routine changed all of a sudden.

You let out a dark chuckle while shaking your head, "Why don't you have that woman you were fucking yesterday do it for you" You scowled at him as his eyebrows raised "What are you talking about Y/N? I wasn't with a woman yesterday " He said as he began walking up to you and tried to kiss your lips.

You backed up from him and began raising your voice, "Stop playing stupid Tawal I HEARD her moaning your name I SAW you thrusting into her like a wild animal!"

"How did you even hear and see us? What were you do��"

"It doesn't matter what I was doing, the point is that I caught you and I can't believe you just tried to act like it wasn't true! How could you cheat on me Tawal?! How could you just decide to go sleep with some random girl!?" As you yelled he didn’t even say anything and you hated how he looked so serene.

"SAY SOMETHING YOU ASSHOLE!"

Tawal's once calm demeanor changed to an angry one, you calling him an 'asshole' flickered something in him. "You want to know why I did it?! Fine, I'll tell you! We've been together for almost a year and we haven't even had sex one time! all we do is kiss and touch and that shit is boring"

"I told you before we started dating I didn't want to have sex until we mated and you said you were okay with that!" You were always a little insecure about wanting to wait. Deep down you felt like Tawal would do something like this because you weren't giving him the full package.

"Well, clearly I'm not! I can't be with a woman who can't fully gratify me, that's why I'm breaking up with you and I'm going to mate with Zora. She is a woman who can FULLY tend to my needs" As you heard him say that your heart felt like it broke in half. You couldn't believe the man you loved just said another woman could satisfy him.

"Zora?! You wanna mate with Zora?! That's the woman you want instead of me?!" you say as hot tears began to stain your cheeks "Someone who has fucked every man in the clan?! that's someone you want to mate with?!"

Zora is a promiscuous woman who is well known by any and every man in the clan. She sleeps with anyone that gives her the slightest attention. If a man even made eye contact with her she was ready to spread her legs wide open for him.

"Yes, it is! She is— you know what?! Why am I even explaining myself to you? It doesn't even matter just listen to my words I DON'T WANT YOU ANYMORE!" He yelled so loud that you are sure that the whole clan heard.

Hearing him say he didn't want you made your heartache, "W-We were suppose to be together forever Tawal! Y-you promised me we would always be together forever! How could you do this to us?!"

It was like everything changed between the two of you in a blink of an eye. Like he just changed into this monster overnight.

"Forever doesn't last when there isn't anything there anymore Y/N! Do you not get that?!" As he watched you cry he didn't even feel an ounce of guilt for the pain he caused you, he felt like you brought this upon yourself. "I stopped loving you a while ago, maybe if you would've been putting out like a real woman should this wouldn't have happened!"

The sadness you felt was soon replaced with a feeling of fierce anger

"YOU KNOW WHAT? FUCK YOU TAWAL! GET OUT OF MY HOUSE! LEAVE! NOW!" You shouted with venom falling off your lips as you hit him in the chest and pushed him toward the entryway of your pod. You couldn't stand to look at him anymore, looking at the cold expression on his face made your stomach churn. His words lingering in the air made you feel physical pain.

"DON'T COME BACK!" You shoved him out of your pod and tied your curtain closed so no one could come in.

That was the last time you saw him and the first day you felt gloom grow inside you.

Ever since that day, you haven't stepped foot out of your pod. You didn't want to see anyone, you didn't want to hear people whispering about you and Tawal, and you just couldn't handle the discomfiture right now. You didn't even want to see your best friend Neteyam, you didn't want him to see you so broken and distraught.

The past few days you haven't been taking care of yourself or your home properly. Your pod was a mess and you haven't been eating. You didn't have the strength to do anything except cry. Every time someone would come to make sure you were okay you would just snarl at them and tell them to leave and everyone would do what you asked.

At this time you were laying down in your makeshift bed balling your eyes out. Your emotions were still raw from the fight and breakup with Tawal and it was hitting you like a brick wall. You didn't want to do anything except weep into your pillow, you were crying so much that your head was throbbing. You just felt so lost and broken and you loathed Tawal for making you feel like this.

As you continued feeling melancholic you heard a voice, "Y/N let me come in, I want to make sure you're okay" Neteyam said as he stood outside your pod. He has been so worried about you ever since he heard you and Tawal argue. He didn't know what the origin was but he knew it must've been bad.

"Neteyam leave me be! Go away!" You yell out hoping he would leave. He's been coming by every day and every time you sent him away, he usually listened and left but today he wasn't going to leave.

"No, I'm not leaving until I know you're okay. You're my best friend and I haven't seen you in days."

"Neteyam please leave! I-I don't want to see you! I don't want you to see me like this!" You say as your voice began to crack. You hated that you kept turning him away but you just couldn't face him in this state.

When Neteyam heard your voice crack he felt a twinge in his heart, "Y/N please let me in, let me be there for you" You could hear slight desperation in his voice, you knew that he wanted to see you.

You knew that Neteyam was going to keep persisting so you let out a sigh and sluggishly made your way to the curtain so you could untie it for him to come in. Once you untied it you walked back into your bed and pulled your blanket around your body. "Come in Neteyam" you say just loud enough for him to hear you from outside.

Neteyam pulled the curtain back and walked in. His eyes widened when he saw the condition of your pod. He knew you were a very clean and tidy person so for you to have a messy pod he knew something was definitely bothering you.

Neteyam walks over to you and sits down at the end of the bed, "Y/N please talk to me what's wrong? What’s going on with you and Tawal?"

Hearing his name made your ears pin to the side of your head and made you sit up with an angry glare, "Do not speak of him in my house. I do not want to hear his name" you tell him as more tears flow down your face.

This was the first time Neteyam has seen you in days and he began to take in your appearance. You had puffy eyes with dark circles, your hair was all over the place and you just didn't look anything like your normal self. "Y/N what happened? Did he do something to you?" He put his hands on your arms and began to rub them softly.

You haven't had contact with anyone in days, feeling Neteyam's warmth radiating towards you as his fingertips glided against your skin and his concern-filled eyes made you cry even harder, "I- was walking *sniffle* to his pod and I saw him w-with—he was—" you couldn't even finish your sentence without breaking out into a sob. "Shhh it's okay Y/N you don't have to tell me right now" He brought you into his embrace and began rubbing your back to comfort you as your head was on his shoulder. He could gather what you were trying to say and he saw Tawal and Zora sneaking off together earlier today so he connected the dots.

"I'm here for you Y/N, I'm going to help you get through this. You won't feel like this forever, the pain you feel will soon subside. I'll be by your side no matter what" Neteyam could see how broken you were and he was going to help you pick up the pieces.

That day Neteyam stayed and comforted you. After a while, Neteyam was able to get you to calm down and you began to drift off to sleep on his shoulder. "Y/N?" He whispered, he didn't hear you respond so he assumed you fell asleep. He laid your body gently back onto the bed and pulled the cover over you so that you wouldn't be cold.

He then turned around and began walking into the open area of your pod. He began to clean up your pod for you as you slept peacefully. He wanted to start helping you get into a better head space and by being in a clean environment he felt like that would help.

You and Neteyam have been best friends ever since the two of you were children. One day you were playing with your toy hexapede in a patch of moss and a group of little kids began to tease you. Neteyam watched the interaction from afar and marched over to where you were and ran the children away. You thanked Neteyam for helping you and from that day forward the two of you were inseparable.

As both of you got older Neteyam started to grow feelings for you. He never expressed his feelings because he didn't know how you would react and he didn't want to ruin your friendship so he hid his feelings from you. Anytime the two of you were together and you weren't paying attention he would give you loving glances and would admire your beautiful smile. He always loved seeing your usual joyful spirit so seeing you so in such a broken state pained him.

Hours went by and he finally finished cleaning your pod from top to bottom. As he was admiring his work you began to wake up. You began hearing movement in your pod and you assumed it was your best friend, "Teyam?"

When Neteyam heard your voice he immediately came to where you were, "Yes?"

"What are you still doing here? I thought you would've left by now..." you say as you rubbed your eyes with sleep still lingering in your voice.

"I stayed and did a little something for you" he said with a soft smile which made you fur your eyebrows, "what do you mean? What did you do?"

Without saying a word he put out his hand for you to grab. You moved your hand toward him and he helped you up and intertwined his hand with yours and began walking to the open area of your pod. As you followed him you looked around and saw that all the things you had sprawled out and the piles of mess you had were cleaned up.

As you walked deeper into the open area and saw how spotless everything was your eyes widened, "Neteyam did you clean all of this for me?"

"Yes of course I did, I wanted to help you so I did one of the things I'm good at which it's cleaning"

When you looked at Neteyam you could see a warm smile on his face. You knew that Neteyam always loved to help people but for him to help you brought out a feeling you haven't felt in the past few days which was happiness.

A soft smile spread across your face as you wrapped your arms around Neteyam's neck and pulled him for a hug, "Thank you Neteyam, you didn't have to do this for me"

At first, Neteyam was surprised by your sudden contact but he was glad to see your smile again. He wrapped his arms around your waist and hugged you back, "Your welcome, I know I didn't have to but I wanted to"

As both of you hugged it felt like butterflies swarmed your stomach, you've never felt this sensation with Neteyam before so it was new to you. You unwrapped your arms from around his neck and pulled back and began looking into his golden eyes. His eyes were piercing your soul, it was almost like he was trying to tell you something.

This is the moment you realized that you and Neteyam's friendship was going to slowly change. You didn't know what direction it would go but you were interested in finding out.

—

Over this past month, Neteyam has been helping and caring for you vastly. In the beginning, you were nervous about being around the clan again, scared that you would overhear them gossiping about you. You told Neteyam about how you felt and from that point on every time you had to walk around the village he was right by your side. When he would hear someone whispering your name or even look at you the wrong way he would bare his teeth and their actions would come to a halt.

In the beginning, you were starting to get back to your normal self being happy and bright but sometimes the gloom you once felt consumed you and took you back to the emotions you felt the day you found Tawal with Zora.

Neteyam would find you crying or throwing things angrily around your pod. He would quickly come to you and wipe your tears and tell you everything would be okay or he would grab whatever was in your hand and calm you down.

Some nights he even stayed over with you just to make sure you were okay throughout the night. Some of those nights you would peacefully sleep and some nights you went on full rants about how much of an asshole Tawal was and sat there Neteyam and listened to your every word, saying little things every few seconds to let you know he was actively listening.

As the weeks progressed you were finally getting over Tawal. Seeing him in the village with Zora didn't affect you anymore, at first when the wound he created on your heart was fresh you wanted to break their unholy union. But after a while, you realized that it was only a matter of time before Eywa gave him the karma he deserves.

Over this month your friendship with Neteyam has changed, you were now seeing him in a new light.

You were now seeing him romantically.

Whenever you saw him you paid more attention to his physique. The way his body was sculpted so beautifully and how his cummerbund was wrapped around his small waist.

Every time Neteyam would grab your hand and walk beside you through the forest you felt sparks of electricity go through you, you felt blissful with him. Now when you were around him you never wanted him to leave, you wanted him to be glued to your side.

These feelings you felt with Neteyam you've never felt before not even with Tawal. The way Neteyam was making you feel was something truly unique.

Over this month Neteyam's feelings for you have grown and he felt them immensely. He felt like his heart was going to explode at the sight of you, every time he walked and talked with you he felt a overwhelming amount of serotonin rush through his veins.

It has now gotten to the point where he couldn't hide his feelings from you anymore, he had to tell you in the hope that you felt the same.

You and Neteyam were currently sitting next to each other carving and painting wooden beads. As he watched you paint your beads he could see a joyous smile plastered onto your face, "Teyam this is fun!" you tell him with child like excitement as you dip your fingers into the bowl of green paint. "Yeah this is fun" he chuckled as he continued carving beads for you to paint.

Since you were in a happy mood he felt like this was the best time to confess his feelings for you, "Y/N I've been wanting to tell you something for a while..."

You looked up from what you were doing and faced him, "Okay what is it?"

Neteyam took in a deep breath and mentally said a prayer to Eywa that this would go the way he hopes, "Every since we were young I've liked you romantically. For years I have yearned for you, in secrecy and silence and I just can't dismiss my feelings for you anymore" As Neteyam notices your gaze on the ground he grabs your chin lightly and looks at you with a loving gaze "I can't pretend that I don't love you anymore because I do".

As you sat there and listened to Neteyam's words and looked into his golden eyes you felt a deep affection for him. Over the past month, your feelings have grown for him too. "I'm infatuated with you Neteyam, I've been for a while I was just waiting for you" you say brightly as your eye’s begin to glisten with happiness

"I see you Teyam"

"I see you too Y/N, I will always see you" Neteyam pulled you into his lap and wrapped his arms around your waist. You laid back on his chest with your head in the crook of his neck while he leaned up against the tree behind him. From being so close together you could feel his warmth mixing with yours.

The two of you sat together watching the sun set on the forest as both of you just embraced each other and soaked up the loving aura in the air.

—

As you and Neteyam were walking through the forest you heard Lo'ak calling out for both of you, "Y/N! Neteyam!" Both of you turned around and saw Lo'ak walking toward the two of you.

"What is it baby bro?" Neteyam asked with a confused look, wondering why he was calling them

"Did you two hear about Tawal and Zora?" Lo'ak said while trying to hold back a laugh

"No what happened?" You asked him

"There's is a rumor going around the clan that since they mated Zora has still been sleeping with other men and she gave Tawal an STD" Lo'ak said while laughing

Your eyes widen as you heard Lo'ak tell you this information, "Really?!"

"Yes I even heard him ask one of the elders if there was anything to get rid of his 'burning and itching' problem"

You and Neteyam began to laugh as you heard of Tawal's issue. You knew that Eywa was going to give him some sort of karma and this was it.

"He brought it on himself by knowingly sleeping with a woman who has slept with every man in the twice. He knew what he was getting himself into" you said while shrugging your shoulders. You didn't feel any remorse for him but how could you after what he did to you?

As you, Neteyam, and Lo'ak continued laughing you could see Tawal walking past the three of you. Tawal walked past trying not to be seen but it didn't work out in his favor, "Hey Tawal! Are you still itching and burning from Zora?!" Lo'ak yelled out which made you and Neteyam break out into laughter.

"Lo'ak!" you were beginning to grow breathless as laughs erupted from your throat. You tried to seize your laughter but you couldn't. The situation was just too hilarious not to laugh.

As Tawal heard all of you laughing he grew so embarrassed that his tail tucked in between his legs. He began to speed walk away, trying to get away from the three of you as quick as he could.

As Tawal walked away he could see you and Neteyam holding hands. It sickened him to see you with him but he knew that he messed up all his chances with you. Tawal knew you deserved someone better and that Neteyam was better deserving of your love and affection.

Tawal looks back at you one more time before walking away. As he thought about the good times both of you had and how you use to make him laugh, a single tear fell down his cheek. He felt so stupid for messing this up with you for Zora. After he and Zora mated he realized everything he felt for her was lust, they didn't have any real connection like the one both of you shared. He didn't know why his past self broke up with you for a bottom-of-the-barrel woman.

As he walked away he saw Zora walk up to him, "Tawal why are crying? What is wrong?" She asked him as she went to reach out for his hand. Tawal scoffed and backed away from her, "Get away from Zora, you're what's wrong with me. You ruined the best relationship I had and you gave me a disease for Eywa's sake! I mated with you and you continued to sleep around, you told me you would stop but you didn't. You've made me look like a fool in front of the whole clan!" They began to have a loud argument which drew your attention.

As you look at him you were glad that he ended things off with you because if he hadn't you wouldn't have been able to have Neteyam as a lover. You were thankful to Eywa that she destined this path for you, that she made you and Neteyam's stars aligned. You were thankful that your best friend turn into your lover.

You move closer to Neteyam and lean in to kiss his cheek. Neteyam turns and looked down at you with his loving eyes, "What was that for?"

"It was because I love you" you say as warmth spreads across your cheeks and they begin to turn a light shade of purple.

You begin to see his lips curl up into a smile. He grabs your chin lightly and pulls you in for a soft yet loving kiss, "I love you too, I'll always love you forever"

I hope you enjoyed🩷!

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luciferfemme · 2 years ago

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The Poolboy Butch

Author's Note:

I'm including some content warnings right off the bat for implied/mentions of eating disorders, abuse, and cheating. This is also smutty so 18+ only. no men.

“I’ve hired someone new to take care of the pool,” Artemis looked up from the meager breakfast she had been staring blankly at, in the hopes of avoiding having to hear yet another criticism about her weight from her husband. Not that he spoke much to her these days anyway. The rare times she saw him at all, his nose was buried in a newspaper. In the event he did deign to speak with her, it was never for anything as trivial as pool maintenance, so this announcement caught her off guard. Her husband didn’t bother to look up from his paper. She supposed she preferred it to his criticizing her appearance. “They’ll be here in a few hours. I trust you can show them where the pool is?”

“Yes,” Artemis said quietly, not bothering to even finish the slice of grapefruit before her. She left the table before her husband, opting to spend the rest of the morning on the treadmill. She was by no means heavy, but the last five years of hearing constantly how disgusting he was to look at had taken a toll and had caused Artemis to develop habits that worried her friends. She smoked now for one thing, as an appetite suppressant, but really, a part of her rather hoped it really would shave a few years off her life. Better to die young than have to stay married and miserable.

“Why don’t you just divorce him?” Her friends had all but begged. Artemis’ reply was always the same. It wasn’t that simple. Everything was in her husband’s name. If they divorced, Artemis would have nothing. No home, no car, no family to speak of, she hadn’t a proper job in all this time and she wasn’t smart enough to do anything. Or at least, that’s what her husband always said.

Artemis shook her head, running harder on the treadmill, hoping to silence her thoughts. She was lightheaded, and a little dizzy, but she refused to stop. It wouldn’t be the first time she blacked out on the treadmill. If anything, it could only silence the screaming voice in her head that could only be her husband reminding her how repulsive she was.

The doorbell rang; the smart doorbell connected to her phone alerted her to the presence of someone waiting for her. She blinked, looking around the room, not quite remembering what had happened. Her body ached and the treadmill was still going several feet from her head. She groaned. The doorbell rang again. Artemis sighed, pulling her phone out of her back pocket and pulled up the doorbell app. There standing in front of the door was a handsome, dark-haired stranger.

“Hello?” Artemis asked, though it pained her to do so. She hoped she hadn’t cracked a rib again.

“Mrs. Bradley? I’m Ash, the pool person,” the voice on the other end said. Artemis sat up fast, then hissed in pain.

“Fuck.”

“Are you okay?”

“I’ve been better,” Artemis replied with a grunt. “Sorry please come in. I’ll be down in a moment,” she tapped a button on her phone to unlock the door, and stared up at the ceiling, trying to muster up enough strength to get up off the floor.

“Mrs. Bradley?” She heard Ash say from downstairs.

“Up here,” she said. In a mater of moments she heard footsteps on the stairs.

“Oh my god, are you alright?” Ash ran over to her the moment they saw her, dropping everything as they kneeled down at her side. Artemis looked up at them. Up close, she realized for the first time that the pool cleaner was not a man as she had expected. But instead a very handsome woman. She was wearing a baseball cap, and a Hawaiian shirt that was open, and a black tank top on top of that. Artemis smiled weakly.

“I’m fi…” she said attempting to sit up. But she had barely managed to sit up when a sharp pain cut through her ribs again.

“I think I should get you to a hospital,” Ash said, supporting the back of her head in her arms. Artemis inhaled the scent of the other woman. A pungent smell of something spicy and a little masculine, a cologne of some kind filled her nostrils, but she couldn't place it. She resisted the urge to tell Ash she smelled nice, but only just.

“I’ll be fine,” Artemis lied. “I just lost my footing I guess.” Ash looked down at her suspiciously and helped her sit up with some amount of effort.

“Well at least let me get you to the sofa over there. And then I’ll get you some ice.” Ash got up easily, giving Artemis a better view of her. She was muscled in a way that Artemis had never seen before in another woman, and it was making her feel heady in a different sort of way than she had before. Ash leaned down and scooped her up into her arms easily and carried her over to the sofa, placing her gently down upon it.

Artemis blushed. Before she could say another word, Ash made her way back down the stairs and into the kitchen, moving as if she knew her way around the place. Artemis closed her eyes for just a moment; when she opened them again, Ash was standing there with a baggie of ice and a glass of orange juice.

Ash handed her the orange juice first, then pulled off her Hawaiian shirt and wrapped it around the ice, and handed it over to Artemis who placed it against her ribs. She stared at the orange juice for a long moment, debating if it was really worth the empty calories. But Ash had folded her arms over her chest in a way that said she expected her to drink it. So she did.

She felt almost instantly better.

It was then, as her mind began to clear that she was able to take in more about Ash’s appearance. For instance, there were multiple tattoos all over her body. Then there was the fact that she could now see without the shirt that Ash had very hairy underarms, and hairy legs, and why was that doing something for Artemis? She had never been interested in women before. But then, she had never seen a woman like Ash before. Ash kneeled across from her. “Do you mind if I check your ribs?” She asked. Artemis blushed. “Don’t worry, I went to nursing school.”

“How did you end up a pool cleaner?” Artemis asked. She groaned to herself feeling instantly like a jackass for the question. "Sorry, that was so rude."

“Family business,” Ash said carefully removing the ice. Artemis hissed but there was something so gentle in her movements that she couldn’t help but let her do whatever she needed. Ash examined her stomach carefully, she didn’t comment on anything other than to say that her stomach looked badly bruised, but she could not say if it was broken. “You’ll be okay.”

“T-thanks.” Artemis said.

Ash smiled. “Can I ask you a personal question?”

Artemis grinned bracing herself for the worst. “Sure.”

“Is your husband always such a dick, or was I just very unlucky?”

At this, Artemis laughed, it was painful, but it managed to make her smile all the same.

Ash smiled too, a bright smile that felt as though it was warming up every part of Artemis. It was a smile that felt like the sun. Radiant, effervescent, and almost addictive too. She realized then and there that she desperately wanted to kiss this other woman, though she knew that she couldn’t. Ash seemed to be thinking much the same thing, her eyes darted down to Artemis’s lips, then back up to meet her eyes.

Artemis swallowed, staring into the warm dark brown pools that were Ash’s eyes.

“I should really get to cleaning your pool,” Ash said, not moving from her spot at Artemis’ side, never letting their eyes tear away from one another for even a moment.

“Must you?”

Ash swallowed, it was clear she was only just resisting the urge to kiss her. “Can I…”

“Whatever it is, yes,” Artemis replied. Before she knew what was happening, Ash closed the distance between them and pressed their lips together. All at once Artemis felt as though she were flying. She felt weightless and tingly, and were it not for the fact that she could feel Ash’s lips against her own, her tongue sliding into her mouth and her strong hands now cupping the back of her head Artemis might have thought she had passed out again. It was easily the best kiss she had ever experienced in all her life. In that kiss, Ash managed to convey entire paragraphs of information just with her tongue. Artemis shivered, heart racing. It felt almost too good to be true, and she was terrified that when at last they pulled away it would all have been a dream.

“You’re so beautiful,” Ash whispered against her lips.

Artemis curled in on herself at that. She didn’t feel beautiful. In fact, she couldn’t remember the last time she had felt beautiful, or even been told it. But somehow coming from Ash, she wanted to believe it.

Ash kissed down her jaw, towards her throat, and the column of flesh there, sucking a mark onto her neck. Artemis gasped, arching towards Ash’s lips. “So so beautiful.”

Artemis winced again despite herself. Ash paused, pulling away at that. “Did I hurt you?”

“No,” Artemis said trying to sound more sure of herself.

“I’m sorry, I… I got too carried away didn’t I? God you just passed out I never should have,” Ash said pulling away, but Artemis pulled her in for another kiss, stopping Ash’s worry in mid-sentence. Ash smiled against her lips.

A moment later, it was Artemis that pulled away feeling unsure. “Sorry, I… it’s just been such a long time since someone touched me and complimented me I…” she felt as though she were on the verge of tears.

“What?” Ash asked, looking horrified.

Artemis looked away ashamed then. Ash placed her finger under Artemis’s chin lifting her face towards her. “You can’t tell me that husband of yours isn’t obsessed with you. Please, say it isn’t so.” Artemis blushed crimson, feeling a deep sense of shame somehow. “If you were my wife I wouldn’t be able to keep my hands off of you,” Ash said, her hand on Artemis’ thigh. Artemis gasped, looking into Ash’s eyes fully then.

“Really?”

“Damn straight.” Artemis smiled, feeling adored for the first time in what felt like forever. It was almost overwhelming, she had to admit. “He’s a damn fool not to worship you as the goddess you are.” Artemis kissed the other woman again, feeling a newfound sense of hope and comfort that she hadn’t imagined possible. Ash kissed down her neck, each time looking up at her to request permission. Artemis nodded as Ash took off her top, and kissed slowly over her breasts, eliciting a moan from the other woman as she did so. She moved down her body, carefully kissing each rib making sure to be gentle with Artemis all the while.

When at last she was between her legs, she gave her a look, and Artemis bit her lip as she stared down at her. She nodded, and Ash slid her hand up Artemis’ thigh, beneath her skirt and slid her panties down past her ankles. She turned her hat backwards and out of her way.

It had felt like an eternity since anyone had the desire to give her any sort of pleasure, so much so that the moment Ash’s tongue touched her skin it was all Artemis could do not to scream. Before she knew what was happening, her fingers had curled their way into Ash’s hair. She felt rather than heard Ash hum in appreciation, her fingers digging into Artemis' thighs as she teased her with her tongue. Moving achingly slowly, little teasing flicks that made Artemis want to beg for more. Please. More. “Ash,” she moaned. Ash grinned against her, pressing a kiss to her thigh, and curled their fingers together. She pressed her face in closer so her tongue would slide in deeper, causing Artemis to let out a loud guttural moan. Ash’s lips and tongue moved in tandem, moving swiftly and with such ferocious intensity that Artemis was certain she would cum in an instant. She felt herself bucking against Ash’s tongue. Ash growled appreciatively a sound that only served to turn Artemis on more. She moaned, her fingers tightly laced against Ash’s.

Ash moved faster, clearly determined to make her cum. Artemis whimpered, she had been trying to stop herself when Ash pulled away just long enough to whisper against her flesh. “Give it to me baby. Cum for me,” Artemis let out a loud cry, as she came hard from Ash’s words.

Ash ate her through it, not letting up for a moment, as Artemis shivered. It was the single best orgasm she’d ever had, unsurprisingly. It was after all the first one in recent memory where the focus had actually been on her pleasure alone.

“You’re so delicious,” Ash said, licking her shiny lips.

“You’re very good at that,” Artemis said.

“Just wait till I get my strap in you.” Ash grinned and winked.

Artemis’ eyes widened at that.

“That’s for another time when your rib isn’t bruised. I’ll go down and get you something to eat and some water. Gotta keep your strength up.”

Artemis blushed at that, but she didn’t argue. Her body felt like jelly, and a wave of serotonin was coursing through her veins at this very moment. It was then that she knew, she had to leave her husband, one way or another.

#original fic #tw ed mention #tw abuse #tw cheating #tw infidelity

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sinnohstruggles · 4 months ago

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[Chat Log, dated 16/07/04

[Venus, I fear he may discover this]

[Cyrus, dear, that doesn't matter]

[...what do you mean?]

[That stupid boy wouldn't dare say anything about it if he found it]

[How can you be so sure, Venus?]

[Because even my husband has one, he knows its there but he hasn't said a word to me about it]

[You told me you would divorce the old prick]

[Have patience, my dear, I'm waiting it out]

[...waiting what out?]

[Remember how I'd told you that he'd found an ancient strain of pokérus contained in a fossil?]

[I do]

[Turns out, it used to be lethal for pokémon...]

[Go on...]

[This ancient strain can be transmitted to humans]

[How- no...]

[It'll take years, perhaps even over a decade, but it will kill him]

#arc: inside the mind of the broken man #tw parental abuse #tw infidelity #tw death mention

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localplaguenurse · 2 years ago

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Zhongli gets wifey pregnant for a sixth time, how is the main 5 reaction to their being unable to leave their mother's body alone? (Did I word that weird)

Also can I be Mistress/Lady Anon to make things easier?

100% honesty that was gonna be the original ending of the fic. Instead of them getting married again it was gonna be wifey telling Zhongli they're pregnant.

Depends on the ages I guess. If they were still relatively young (like the twins were still kids/teens) they'd be like "you don't have enough on your plate?" but obvs still very supportive because oh shit new sibling! (And also the oldest three would've been out of the house o y'know that does make things simpler.)

But if it's current genshin timeline oh god they would clown on the two so hard. Not even just that they waited like 1900+ years to pop out another (about 1983 to be hyperspecific, they had Yan two years after the end of the archon war and he was 15 when the twins arrived), but also that their literally newborn great grandchild is older than their sixth kid-

"You lot act like I'm some sort of baby factory. I was only pregnant four times, it's not as if we planned on having twins."

"Lmao are you saying this one's an accident?"

"This one's about to become my favourite child if you don't knock it off."

#ask #as gold as the ginkgo trees #tw pregnancy #pregnancy mention #lady anon #the morax family tree starts looking like the joestar family tree #except with less gay vampire fuckery #and less infidelity

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civicmuses · 6 months ago

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anonymous asked:

Marsha what's your opinion on emorty's previous relationship with emeg?

"Honestly, I don't know much about it besides what emorty was saying. About how he pampered and spoiled her...made me think about Jason. In between all of the times he cheated on me and hurt me both physically and emotionally...he would treat me like a princess." She paused as she looked down. "...I found out afterward that it was love bombing...just another one of his tricks to keep me around." She looks back up. "I don't know what emeg was thinking so I can only assume. And I know I'm sounding kind of biased right now."

@mcltiples / @evilmcg (mentioned)

ask my character questions | open & accepting

#[ asks. ]#[ marsha // ic ]#anonymous #manipulation tw #physical abuse mention tw #infidelity mention tw

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helldustedstories · 8 months ago

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As mentioned earlier, the anon I got, while offering "critique" of the way I write Stolas, also veered into victim-blaming territory, saying that he's 'abusive and a cheater and he ruined his family.' Most of it will be under the cut, as this got very long.

So first of all, if you don't like Stolas as a character, that's fine; that's your prerogative, and everyone is entitled to their own opinion, but what are you doing on my page? As I'm sure you've noticed if you've been around my blog any time at all, Stolas is my main muse here. He's very important to me as a character, and as part of my fave ship, so YEAH, there's gonna be a lot of Stolas on my blog. And if that's something that bothers you...., the unfollow / block button is right there. I very much encourage you to use it to curate your own experience.

Now that we've gotten that out of the way, let's take this "critique" apart piece-by-piece, shall we? The thesis statement with which I was presented was, to paraphrase, that Stolas is abusive, a cheater, and that he ruined his family. Since the anon seemed focused on the fact that Stolas “is a cheater who ruined his family,” that is also the lens through which I will be basing my analysis.

Starting off with my favourite: Stolas is abusive. I'm honestly not sure we've been watching the same show, if you think that. I cannot think of a single instance in the course of the fifteen episodes we currently have where he raised a hand to someone else. Yes, he raised his voice a couple of times, in response to an argument, where both parties were heated. Is that abuse? No, because it was an argument, with emotions running high on either side. People in all kinds of relationships have arguments, which are not inherently abusive. However, we cannot ignore the history that has been presented to us in the show itself, as the text we’re examining. While victims of abuse are not exempt from becoming abusers themselves, in the case of Stolas, this is not what happened.

Let's look at the definition of verbal abuse, pulled from the wiki: "Verbal abuse can include the act of harassing, labeling, insulting, scolding, rebuking, or excessive yelling towards an individual. It can also include the use of derogatory terms, the delivery of statements intended to frighten, humiliate, denigrate, or belittle a person” (“Verbal Abuse.” Wikipedia, en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Verbal_abuse. Accessed 12 May 2024).

While Stolas makes a snide remark to Stella, "How was I supposed to know you could spell? I've never seen you read!" that is not abuse. That is a one-off statement meant to get a rise out of her. However, something that does qualify as verbal abuse? The way that Stella talks to and about Stolas. "It's no picnic being married to a boring stiff like Stolas," "Stolas is terrible in bed! I swear to fuck, he just lays there staring at the wall, and I have to do everything! It's embarrassing! I'm glad one egg fell out of me so I could stop pretending to want to fuck his scrawny twig ass," "what a pathetic fucking man" are all examples of Stella harassing, labeling, insulting, scolding, rebuking, using excessive yelling, and derogatory terms intended to humiliate or belittle Stolas in the span of a single episode. Not only in the span of a single episode, but within the span of a single day within that episode (“Helluva Boss/The Circus.” Season 2, episode 1).

We can infer from this, and from the other times we have seen similar situations (which also included threats of physical violence, with Stella throwing Stolas' plants, items she knows he cares about and treats well, specifically to terrorize him), that this is a regular occurrence between them. Stolas doesn't usually speak up or say anything, let alone yell back. One of the few times he says anything in response to her shouting is in the second episode of the first season: Loo Loo Land. But even then, Stella is shouting, and Stolas is replying to her as calmly as he can, his voice much quieter than hers, even in the context of what can be heard as a character in the show, not only for the audience’s perspective.

An important thing to note, as well: while the instance with Stolas responding to Stella’s verbal abuse in Loo Loo Land takes place in an earlier episode, it takes place later within the chronology of the show, as almost all of the scenes in The Circus appear as a flashback. This is an important distinction because The Circus establishes a pattern of behaviour that is continued and escalated in Loo Loo Land. It is understandable for a spouse to be upset that they’d been cheated on, but the level of the reaction, the fact that it is ongoing mistreatment, makes it unacceptable.

There are many different types of abuse, and Stolas does not display any of them. He actively works to dismantle the cycle of physical, verbal, and emotional abuse he has gone through. While he does make mistakes, he tries to be as supportive of his daughter as possible, showing interest in the things she likes even if he doesn’t always understand. He shows physical affection, makes sure she knows that he loves her, that he’s going to be there for her, both when she’s a child, and later when they go to Loo Loo Land. It had been his insistence that they go to the park, but the moment he realized that Octavia wasn’t having fun, they had a heartfelt talk that was emotional, but also an actual conversation as opposed to one party hurling insults at the other.

I would go so far as to say that Stolas displays both freeze and fawn responses to these situations with Stella. We hear her say that “Stolas is terrible in bed! I swear to fuck, he just lays there staring at the wall, and I have to do everything!” which is a classic sign of dissociation, and can also be attributed to the freeze response to trauma. While both Stolas and Stella were put in a situation that they did not want to be in, the fact that Stella went through with sex while Stolas was actively dissociating makes that assault. Not only that, but she continues to laugh and joke about what happened with her friends, knowing that Stolas is within earshot of her; she deliberately uses her words to hurt him, to bring up his trauma, to belittle him. Stella is very good at choosing some of the most hurtful words she could because it’s meant to show that Stolas is unsatisfactory as a man because he cannot please her in bed, and she ‘had to do all the work.’

Let’s reverse the roles for a moment, shall we? A man says that his wife just lies there while he has to do all the work during sex, he ignores that she’s dissociating and continues regardless of her feelings. Cut and dry assault, right? But because the victim in this case is a man, it’s not seen as abuse, which is hypocritical and dangerous.

While I could continue at length about this single point, let’s move on. We’re going to be tackling both “Stolas is a cheater” and “he ruined his family” at the same time, because I think they’re very much tied to one another. Yes, he had an affair while he was married. On the surface, he is absolutely a cheater, an adulterer, whatever you want to call him. Not even he would deny that. However, this is something that also has a lot more nuance than just the surface level viewing.

Stolas is a gay man who has been trapped in a heterosexual marriage for almost twenty years. He himself states that he “tried so many years to make it comfortable for us; to have this family, but it was never enough” (HB, S2E01). And while we don’t fully know what that entailed, considering the way that Stella reacted to his infidelity with Blitz, it can be inferred that that was the first time he’d strayed. He chose to stay in a loveless marriage, with a spouse who continually insulted and belittled him, destroyed his property, and was physically abusive, all to attempt to give their daughter some semblance of a normal childhood. Stolas insulated Octavia from much of her mother’s cruelty, but it escalated to the point that he could not keep all of it from her any longer.

It’s also clear through Stella’s dialogue that it’s not necessarily the infidelity that bothers her; it’s the fact that Stolas chose to sleep with an imp, someone who is seen as lesser in Hell’s hierarchy. Every time she brings up his affair, it’s in conjunction with the fact that his affair partner is an imp, not that he betrayed her, or that she’s hurt by his actions. Stella says that she likes tormenting Stolas, that the reason she stays around the house even though she takes Via away on weekends is to remind him of what he did, specifically to try to make him feel guilty for his actions. She cares about how everything reflects on her, not how it might affect their daughter.

And Stolas is the first person to acknowledge that if he had genuinely hurt Stella, he would feel bad about that. But there was never anything between them; their marriage was arranged in order to add a ‘precautionary heir’ to the family, a duty that they fulfilled. From their conversation before the Not Divorced party, it’s clear that they had at the very least discussed divorce previously, but it came down to how it would look yet again, rather than what would be best for either of them or Octavia. Which is made clear when Stella’s first response to Stolas’ insistence that they are getting The Divorce is “what would the rest of the Goetia family think?”

Her next response is even more telling: she tries to hit Stolas, to backhand him across the face. The only reason she doesn’t make contact is that Stolas stopped her, catching her hand before she could hit him. He was ready for that blow, knew that it was coming, which means that it was not the first time she had hit him. It had happened before, and he knew there was the possibility of it happening again, especially when he finally stood up for himself instead of freezing or fawning to try to keep the peace.

The affair changed the status quo in the family; Stolas made a choice for himself instead of trying to placate Stella and do what would cause the least amount of ripples. That choice exposed what was already broken and festering; it didn’t cause the broken marriage or family. The perfect image that they presented to the outside world never really existed, and it finally became impossible to hide when Stolas actually made a decision for his own wellbeing instead of basing all of his decisions on what would be best for Octavia.

It also cannot be understated that Stella hired an assassin to torture and kill Stolas, who is still the father of her child, because he embarrassed her. There were so many other options available to her, ways she could have gotten revenge on Stolas without killing him, but she went right to assassination and torture. Which would also negatively affect her daughter, especially if she ever found that her father had been killed on her mother’s orders.

The fact that all of this is ascribed to Stolas is nothing short of victim-blaming. When someone is blamed for their own abuse, it blurs the lines between fiction and reality because that is something that happens to real people all the time, myself included. It’s especially important in this case because Stolas is a male victim of domestic violence, who are already far less likely to come forward or to be believed even if they do. Especially if they are also queer.

In conclusion, I am going to continue to sympathize with Stolas. I am going to continue to analyze him through the lens of the trauma he’s been through, and I am going to keep examining and thoughtfully, respectfully exploring his thought process as he deals with the fact that he was a victim of abuse, as he gets away from that and begins to heal.

#✎ helldustedstories : meta; aka mal thinks too much about things #ᯓ★ stolas : about #domestic violence mention tw #marital assault tw #infidelity tw #comphet tw #[ask to tag]#[i got the big ones i think]

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canis-or-cannotis-lycaon · 2 years ago

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TIMING: A Few weeks ago LOCATION: About the Town PARTIES: Alan @alan-duarte & Gael @lithium-argon-wo-l-f SUMMARY: Gael and Alan chance into each other at a bookstore and they explore what similarities they have that connect them. CONTENT WARNINGS: cheating mentions, drugs mentions

“I just … It never quite looks realistic enough. You have no idea how much supplies I have thrown away out of sheer disappointment,” the clerk didn’t seem to know a whole lot about modelism and Alan was submerged with regrets while the other attempted to come up with a solution Alan already had tried. The answer, unsurprisingly, didn't come from that guy, but from a voice behind. “Anyway…” He didn’t like when people were so nosy they interrupted someone’s personal conversation. He frankly hated that. Turning toward the intruder, the realtor frowned, and the more he thought about it, the more his eyebrows furrowed. That could work, actually.

“That’s… smart,” a bit more technical than what he was used to coming up with, quite frankly. “Are you also into dioramas and model making ?” ______________ Why were all these books derivative? Gael was looking for a hobby, not a lullaby, which was all most of these books had to offer him. He rolled his eyes, already having wasted too much time in one area when he could be anywhere else actually reading and just picked one up - it seemed to be about crocheting, of all things. Whatever, maybe he could donate it to the school library. He made his way to wherever the line was and as he approached, he found a man in an active, if one-sided discussion with the beleaguered clerk, though Gael’s unusual hearing could pick up the conversation before he saw them. From what he gathered, there was an attempt to make a simulated fire for a… model or something, he was just guessing and he had half a mind to leave himself out of it but he felt for the clueless employee and he gave a noncommittal shrug, speaking loudly enough to make himself heard behind the duo. “I, uh… recommend a silicon bi-pin lamp with a dominant wavelength of 605nm,” He suggested, leaning slightly and keeping his dark eyes on the back of the stranger who at first seemed to shrug him off before acknowledging what he said. Gael straightened back up as the man turned and asked him about the subject material - so he was right. “I hadn’t really thought about it before,” He admitted casually. “I constructed a model RBMK-1000 Reactor for a presentation on Chernobyl once but I don’t know if that would qualify.” ______________

“Oh you just came up with a solution on the spot then,” there wouldn’t be any awards held for being incredibly responsive, Alan hoped the other was aware of that. His gratitude and respect were, however, worth more than an Oscar. They were rare. “Haven’t meddled with electricity in a bit, though I suppose I’ll have to bring the soldering iron out of the closet again,” the clerk was standing right next to them, and Alan could tell from the held up, weak index , that he was wishing he could vanish or be just anywhere else. “I think I’m good, thank you so much,” for nothing. With a warm smile, he watched the younger man walk off. The werewolf wondered what this guy specialized in, before deciding he didn’t really care. Some people just were useless from start to finish.

“So you do know a thing or two about model making,” this man, however, seemed to know things. That was a lot more valuable. “It wouldn’t be my first pick, but you know, to each their own, right?” A nuclear reactor really wasn’t his idea of a good subject, but the same could have been said about the many planes he had sitting on shelves in his basement. He started out with those, but they were now all in cardboard boxes, getting forgotten. “You said a lamp with… That wavelength, is it a color thing, or …” High school was far away, but he remembered a thing or two from his physics classes. You had to be good at it to be in the air force, although mechanical sciences were more deeply anchored than optical ones. “I’ll need it to flicker. Maybe a transistor could do the job, what do you think?” A pause. “I don’t want to hoard your time, of course. If you have better things to do…” He trailed off. “Yeah, I really don’t want to hold your leg man, you’ve already done your good deed,” he smiled, yet something about his eyes seemed to carry hope and was silently begging him to have no life outside of helping him out. ______________ The stranger was blunt in his response and opinionated to boot but he hadn’t dismissed Gael yet so the latter figured he must’ve done something right. Or at least not wrong. “A transistor might work but I think you’d be better with, like, a diode to give it that flicker effect,” He replied, setting the book down and placing his hands in his pockets and keeping his gaze on the model-maker. He quirked an eyebrow as the other man seemed to give him an impression of wanting to continue this conversation - either that or Gael had gotten worse at reading people. Either way, he got some hint (though whether or not it was the right one was to be determined) and he gave another small half-shrug. “I literally have nothing better to do,” He removed a hand and gestured to the crochet book he picked up out of boredom. “Gael, by the way,” That same hand reached out in an initiation for a handshake from the stranger. ______________ “Mmm, maybe,” crossing his arms over his chest, Alan reflected on his options. There wasn’t much he could do now other than try it out now. His gaze went toward the book in the other man’s hands. Crocheting. Not the most common hobby, but who was he to judge? “Crocheting and electronics isn’t a combo you often see,” he commented with a light smile. Holding out his hand to shake, Alan introduced himself as well. “It’s nice to meet you, I’m Alan.”

“I don’t think I’ve seen you around before,” not that he knew everyone, but having been born here, raised here, and having lived here most of his life gave him the sizable advantage when it came to knowing folks : 6 degrees of separation and whatnot. “Anyhow, I’m… have you played Dark Souls?” He paused, “I’m doing the campfire, hence the need for a flickering fire,” he explained. “I haven’t played in ages, I probably couldn’t beat the first boss these days,” he scoffed, rubbing at the back of his neck. “Anyhow, you wanna help me find that diode ? That clerk seemed a bit lost…” ______________ Alan. Gael wondered as he ran the name through in his head a few times if he knew who this guy was in passing but ultimately concluded that he most likely hadn’t, at least not consciously. “Oh yeah, I moved here a few months ago at the start of the semester,” He explained, putting his hand back in his pocket. There was a pause as the model-maker named Alan asked him about Dark Souls and he had to rack his brain for a moment. “I have not played Dark Souls,” He admitted. “BUT I can help you find that diode; that shouldn’t be a problem.” Regardless of the reason, he wasn’t one to turn down a challenge. “You haven’t, like, checked online for it, though, right? There’s a lot of kits that might have what you’re looking for without the hassle of running around trying to find it.” He suggested. ______________ “Semester?” Only two categories of people spoke in semesters: professors and students. If people could go back to college at any moment of their life, he doubted this guy was a student. “You teach at the University? I did a conference there last semester,” a pause. “For the business students. I’m a local business owner,” Alan scratched a spot behind his ear absent-mindedly, feigning humility. He had none, but that was apparently unbecoming.

“Aw, you’re missing out. It’s hard, I’m not gonna lie, but…” He trailed off. He used to play those games with his first husband, though Rafael was always a lot better at them than Alan ever was.

“You’re in electronics? Engineering?” He tried to guess, as he tagged along down the aisle. “I suppose so. I’m not huge on Amazon, but there’s also the hardware store if…” He trailed off. “Yeah, Whitlocks might have it. It’s a 5 minute walk though,” he pursed his lips. “I can offer payment in drinks at the bar, or guided tours of the town,” both would be an introvert’s nightmare, he supposed, but there was a chance the guy was sociable enough if he had the nerve to interrupt a conversation to offer help. ______________ “Oh, yeah. I teach chemistry.” Gael replied, keeping his gaze on Alan with a sense of curiosity in his tired, yet energetic eyes. He put a pin in the part where the other man said that he owned a business; he was sure to mention it later. “And I do suppose there’s no better teacher of business than someone who owns one,” he added. He paused, noting that Alan trailed off and he wondered if the latter had some memory that kept him from finishing what apparently made Dark Souls so great because if they were going off that brief explanation, Gael wasn’t really sold on “you’re missing out, this game is hard”. As far as he was concerned though, it was small talk that sprung from the model thing so he didn’t think too much about it. “I’ll pass on the game and take your word for it but I certainly won’t say no to a drink,” He agreed. “I’m guessing you’re from around here if you’re willing to offer a tour in exchange for a diode.” ______________ A chemistry teacher at UMWC named Gael. Monty’s words echoed in Alan’s memory then. It couldn’t possibly have been anyone else but this guy. He had promised he’d be discreet about it, and Alan liked to think that he was good with people, when he wanted to be. “Pardon me, but I think I might have heard of you through a common friend,” he pointed out. He lowered his voice. “The man from the farm?” It wasn’t the most comfortable conversation to have. Alan had been through this too, and he didn’t like it then. He sure didn’t like it now.

“I’m from around here, yeah,” he nodded along, motioning the other to tag along. “My family has been in the region for three generations already, so I suppose you can say I know the area like the back of my hand,” mostly the real estate market, mostly the woods. He avoided certain areas religiously. Yeah, you could say he knew the town well. “Since you won’t say no, I’ll take this as a yes.” ______________ Alan motioned for Gael to follow so he did, but not before his brain seemed to bounce the words the other man had said around in his head longer than he’d have liked. Common friend, ‘man from the farm’? His mind put two and two together rather quickly; this must’ve been the aforementioned princesa that Monty told him about, the snooty friend who Monty spoke fondly of! His mind buzzed with questions but he didn’t want to make it seem like he wasn’t listening to the rest of what Alan had said. So, he instead brought up the second part of the new conversation first. “Three generations?” Gael repeated. “So you’re part of the old blood of the town.” He wondered why he’d never heard the name before but then again, he didn’t know Alan’s last name so for all he knew he might’ve, just in passing. “That means you have insider knowledge on where to get the best coffee and you won’t take me somewhere soul-crushingly disappointing.” He laughed as the duo walked though it didn’t last long and it tapered into Gael turning his head to look curiously, if a little mournfully, at Alan. “You’re… the one Monty told me about, aren’t you?” It was Gael’s turn to lower his voice. “The uh… the other one who sleepwalks.” The professor knew that sleepwalking wasn’t a new concept but he hadn’t had anyone to talk to about it before aside from Monty, and even then, he couldn’t help but get the idea that Monty had something possibly even worse than him. Possibly. His wasn’t– ______________

“Oh, I suppose you could say that,” there were a lot of families who had been here longer, but the Duartes could pride themselves on being true locals, if that was even something to be proud of. They should have prided themselves on having no one in the family disappear mysteriously, after living in this town for a whole century now. Alan would have been the first to fall this way, he realized. Somehow, he survived. Perhaps he shouldn’t have. Maybe he wasn’t supposed to. “Oh you bet, I won’t be taking you to Starbucks, that’s for sure,” he assured him with a pat on his back.

“Well, yes,” he set his hand back in his pocket, offering the other a slight smile at the mention of sleepwalking. Yeah, he had once thought about that too. It made a lot more sense than oh, maybe I turn into a wolf at night and wander off into the forest to meet my people. “I’ve been sleepwalking for about ten years now,” his smile grew, and his expression changed. There was no need to get sappy about this. Alan knew, however, that the wolf attack needed to be mentioned. “It started after I got into the woods, one evening. I was heading back home, figured it would be shorter…” He trailed off. This was, all things considered, quite the intimate thing to share, but maybe it would make things easier in the long term. And maybe he’d make friends with another member of his species too? It had been a while, and he missed having someone around who could properly relate. “Anyhow, I couldn’t see much of a thing, but a wolf attacked me that night,” he paused. “Call it trauma, or… I don’t know,” lycanthropy, “but I’ve had those sleepwalking issues ever since…” ______________ Gael listened intently, keeping his eyes on the businessman as the latter spoke about his experience. He found himself comparing what Alan was saying to his own memories or lack thereof… the night, the woods, the attack, the hospital. The way the other man spoke made it seem like– well, he had been dealing with it for ten years so surely he had a much better grasp on what it was, right? A wolf attacked Alan, but Gael couldn’t remember what had happened to him; he just assumed he was mauled by a bear that night in the woods - the scar that screwed up some of the nerves in his lower back was certainly big enough to feel like a bear. “That’s… interesting,” Gael said slowly, keeping his voice from becoming mournful as Alan didn’t speak of it as something he was still… well, not struggling but it was something he was dealing with. He had a few questions he wanted to ask, suddenly feeling as though maybe he didn’t sound quite so ridiculous to someone who had similar sleepwalking issues and Alan was surely a master of coping mechanisms by now, right? He didn’t seem so alone, and yet… The thoughts got mixed up in the chemist’s head and he frowned to himself for a moment. “Ten years?” He repeated softly. “Have you ever, I don’t know, gone to see someone about it?” He hastily added “Not that there’s anything wrong with– I mean that–” He stuttered and cleared his throat, suddenly gripped by some unfamiliar emotion. “Sorry, I didn’t think… I didn’t mean to be nosey,” He concluded awkwardly. “Uhm… Monty told me about you though,” Gael smothered the unfamiliar emotion with a grin; he wasn’t sure if this was what Alan wanted but then again, he also wasn’t sure if Alan wanted to discuss their shared condition. He wanted to ask about the blood, the bodies, the nightmares but he also didn’t want to turn their pleasant conversation into one of either discomfort or begrudging formalities. Or something. Maybe if Alan wanted to discuss it further, he could bring it up on his own terms, in his own time. But until then… “He speaks highly of you.” ______________

“Is it?” Alan’s eyebrows raised in inquiry. It was uncommon, for certain. People didn’t usually have surviving a wolf attack crossed out on their bucket list. He would have rather it never happened. His life was better when he didn’t know about all this, and yet… Would he have walked this road, met these people, if he hadn’t crossed paths with a werewolf? “Nah,” he shook his head. He had, once, but there wasn’t much the therapist could do other than try to rationalize what happened, and ask Alan all sorts of questions he wasn’t willing to tackle.

Part of him wondered whether the therapist knew. Not once was PTSD mentioned as a cause for his blackouts, and that always seemed weird to him. He didn’t particularly want to find out if the guy knew though. He didn’t want to delve back into that part of his life. This was why he had been hesitant to help Gael out, when Monty asked him, but now that the man stood before him, Alan wondered how he could possibly do anything but that. Still, he didn’t care to elaborate about this, not now.

Sticking his hands in his pockets, Alan’s eyebrows raised. He knew Monty had spoken to Gael about him, and he didn’t really mind it, considering the circumstances. “You’ve barely asked me any questions,” he pointed out. This much was not entirely true, but Alan figured that this was how he would get the other to ask all his questions. “C’mon, you must have questions that need answering, more important than whether I saw someone to cope with it,” he pointed out with a sympathetic smile. It was easier, pushing the attention away from oneself, in vulnerable times, but Alan was one to do that too, and he could easily spot it.

“Monty? Of course he does, and I’ll speak highly of him too,” as it usually did at the mention of the zombie, his face lit up. “He’s a great man, and I doubt you’ll meet someone more selfless than him around town,” he affirmed. He hadn’t met everyone, but he’d stand by that statement either way. ______________ “Yeah, he’s… there’s something about him for sure,” Gael agreed first, his expression softening as he remembered that morning. “He’s…” The man fell silent and simply caught the expression on Alan’s face - the latter, until recently, had this look that wasn’t stern but it was professional but when he brought up the cowboy, sure enough he could tell that the man was affectionate towards Monty. He was starting to wonder who wouldn’t be. Gael also wondered what questions Alan could’ve been referring to. “About… the sleepwalking,” He muttered, glancing down for a moment before his eyes regarded the businessman once more. “I think the questions I have aren’t… I don’t know, it’s–” What, hard to explain? If there was one person he could maybe explain it to, it would be Alan, another man who was found in the woods with nothing but a sleeping bag to protect his manhood. “I guess the biggest one I have is ‘how do I fix it’,” He surmised. “Though I suppose the biggest one should be ‘what’s wrong with me’.” His eyes danced on nothing in particular, as though he were reading something but it was in his head. “But that’s… I don’t know, sometimes people just sleepwalk.” He shrugged. “I got mauled by a bear one night; I remember NONE of it but I assume it just jostled something in my brain.” He glanced down again. “I’m sure I’m just overreacting. I’ve been known to do that,” Gael cast his gaze back to Alan. “You ever think that? That maybe it’s really not a big deal but something in your mind makes you think it might be?” ______________

“How do you fix it?” Yeah, that was precisely why he didn’t want to do this in the first place. He had been there, in denial, trying to figure out what was making him wake up far from his bed, exhausted and lost, wishing it to fucking stop. “You need to learn to control it, those moments where your mind slips,” he eyed him. It was all Alan could do about this : help Gael control it. This was perhaps how he’d make him aware of what he was. What’s wrong with me was a trickier question, somehow. There was nothing he could say that wouldn’t be a lie to some extent. “Same thing that’s wrong with me. We got attacked by a wild animal and it changed us,” that wasn’t really the full truth, but it was all he could do right then.

“A bear heh?” That didn’t track. It didn’t track with what Monty told him. “You remember being attacked by a bear though, I assume?” Another day, he would have to show him his scar, and perhaps that would help Gael with coming to terms with it all, but that wouldn’t be today. Alan was unable to do that today. He wasn’t sure he would be able to do that at all, and just thinking about it made his expression tarnish.

“I think it’s as big a deal as you want it to be, like everything,” you could care or choose not to give a shit, but the reality would catch up on you and bite you in the ass. “I think you should deal with it sooner than later. You don’t want someone catching you wandering around like that, huh? Not everyone’s going to react like Monty,” no, someone would try to put a bullet in him. “If you want, I can help you with that, but it’s not going to be easy,” a tiny part of him hoped he would refuse, but the guy seemed like a good man, and with werewolves being a rarity, Alan could have used someone extra to share his struggles with. ______________ Gael paused for a long moment, listening intently to everything Alan was saying though the more he spoke, the more something started to knot up in his throat, making it hard to swallow, literally. He didn’t remember being attacked by a bear - how could he? People told him it was a dog but he wasn’t about to consider that it was a dog. What had to have happened is that the way he and Alan were attacked just… created some neurological damage to them. Short-circuiting in their brain, a psychotic defect that caused them to sleepwalk and kill things in that state. Animals, right? Just animals. He thought he liked it better before this topic of conversation came up. Control it. Control what, the parts where he falls asleep, has terrible nightmares where he prowls through the woods as some… demon, then wakes up God-knew-where, in pain, with no idea where he was. “Those are just dreams,” Gael muttered to himself. Maybe they weren’t as alike as they thought, which was fine but the thought that whatever was happening was something that he could change, something that affected him so deeply, it writhed around inside him like snakes. And then there was the part about someone else finding him and Gael realized that… Monty was the only one who had so far. Every other time this defect flared up, he’d woken up lost, hurt, as though he got pulled apart and put back together but he had also been alone. There HADN’T been a Monty or someone else. The professor, uncharacteristically, remained silent during most of this and he pulled his arms close to his stomach, folding them over each other in thought as his brow knitted. Alan offered to help but he found the connection between the help and what it was for nonexistent. “I wouldn’t want to impose,” was what Gael said first, now avoiding eye contact with the other man. “And it– it sounds like how to fix it is that I check myself into a mental ward.” He added before he could stop himself. “Alan, the way you’re talking makes it seem like we’re… I don’t know, werewolves or something.” He scoffed though he said the word itself almost completely silently. “I can’t tell you how to think or what to feel but this sounds like an issue I need medication for.” He clenched his jaw for a moment before glancing back up at Alan, his expression softening. “Sorry, I’m– sorry. I didn’t mean to… I appreciate the offer for help but…” He faltered. ______________

Alan fell silent. He didn’t really have that sort of patience in him, the sort that would allow him to just smile, shake his head gently and explain once again what he meant. He was terrible at this. Talking people into buying or selling was effortless, but things that directly concerned him? Heh. Pass.

The realtor looked away, hands in his pockets. His gaze fell to the floor. “Just dreams, yeah.” He scoffed. This was fucked up.

How was he supposed to let this guy know that he was never going to have a normal life ever again, that he’d never be normal? How was he supposed to tell someone that they’d been bit by a supernatural creature, and that they were now one too.

He’d been through this before, all by himself, and he remembered just how unpleasant it had all been. Alan would force himself to shift until he could begin to control it, even if that meant forcing his bones to grow and shrink, his guts to shift in his stomach in a matter of seconds. At the same time, because he worried himself to death, wondering if one day he’d not accidentally end up mauling his husband, he’d grown further and further away from him. He’d disappear around full moons on business trips, reappear a few days later, feeling tired, filled with guilt, one that Rafael, all too human, could only associate with the worst kind of treason.

Alan felt like crying. Though he tried not to let it show, and fought the urge to let it pour down, his lip quivered, and as he nibbled on it, he had no other choice but to look away. It was a damn good thing Gael was too damn embarrassed to even look at him. “You’re right,” he snapped. “Maybe we’re both fucking mental,” if his words came from a place of hurt, it certainly didn’t make them fair. “I’m not a damn psychiatrist. I don’t know why Monty thought I’d be able to help you with that.” This was no longer about his failed marriage then, but this creeping feeling that had been steadily rotting inside of him : how much of him had died that night? Was he the same person as before or pretending, like a kid playing house ? He was a monster now, this, he knew for a fact. He could try and save face, claim that nature didn’t build monsters, that nature didn’t care for good or bad, he didn’t feel much like a good person. “But you think I’m batshit for suggesting you could learn to live with it. Maybe you’re right.” ______________ The two were silent, Gael trying to find the right words to smoothly transition out of whatever was happening right now to more pleasant things - ‘how is that game?’ ‘what kind of coffee do you like?’ and ‘what do you do aside from make models’ were all questions that absently floated in his brain space. However, he wasn’t anticipating when Alan suddenly reacted the way he did. Almost immediately, surprise painted Gael’s face, shortly followed by a cocktail of emotions, mixing being taken aback, a measure of anxiety and more guilt than he wanted - he had a feeling that by saying what he said, he was risking implying that Alan was the same, even if Gael didn’t think they were. “N-no, that’s not what I meant,” Gael tried to explain, his tone shifting. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that– I just…” He sighed, his pride taking a backseat. “I’m sorry. Of course you’re not mental. You’ve been dealing with this a hell of a lot longer than I have and it was wrong of me to think or assume that…” He fell silent again before giving a tired shrug. “That I would know anything about anything.” He had to think about what the best course of action would be going forward - Gael had unintentionally created a minefield, he felt, and the last thing he wanted to do was ruin this potential connection with Alan or possibly even Monty for insinuating that he was wrong. “I… I don’t understand,” He said slowly, his eyes dancing on his hands that were clenching and unclenching in front of him, trying to work out the stress that suddenly accumulated inside him - a fight or flight response to the animal knowledge that he WOULD be left alone with whatever this was that Alan said. “But…” Lie. “I believe you.” Lie. “I’d like to take you on that offer for help.” He gulped. “I trust your insight.” His gaze rose and he looked at Alan, searching for that connection, the wires he unintentionally frayed in an attempt to gather them back up to salvage this. ______________ “Eleven years. I’ve been dealing with this bullshit, this fucking insane bullshit for eleven years,” he might have not been in his other form then, Alan’s eyes glimmered with a light, with a wrath akin to a dog’s. “But sure, go to the doctor, see what they have to say,” he fell quiet then. Rubbing at his face, if only to rid himself, to wash himself of his annoyance, Alan strode a few steps ahead of Gael. He wouldn’t have faulted him for walking the other way while he could. Most people didn’t particularly stand for this sort of behavior, and they were right not to.

He walked past a bench. He turned around and went to sit there. Where was he even going, striding like that. “I wanted it to go away,” he knew the other could hear him. They had good ears, their kind. Even if he stood meters away now, of course he could hear him. “I thought it would go away, but it won’t go away,” though his words still were spoiled with angered notes, his shoulders no longer seemed so tense, and his eyes didn’t seem to be filled with thunder anymore. “You don’t believe me,” who knew? Maybe he did believe Alan. The wolf sighed, still he turned around to look Gael straight in the eye. “You will have to trust the process. It won’t be an immediate answer to your problems,” but perhaps he’d manage, and maybe through helping Gael how to get a hold of his other self, Alan would finally learn not to detest a whole side of him. ______________ Alan spoke and Gael’s gaze filled with sympathy, knitting in the middle. Eleven years. Gael hadn’t even reached one yet and he didn’t want to anymore but eleven years was sitting on the surface of his mind, simmering, taking its time to sink in and he wasn’t sure when or even if it would. Maybe they were different, maybe Alan really was a… werewolf or whatever but maybe Gael’s problem was something else…? When the other man stormed past him and went to sit on a bench, Gael turned and his gaze followed him though he himself didn’t move at first. Would it be better for him to just… leave? Leave Alan without having to entertain the chemist’s foolish notions anymore? Walk away, tell Monty that he made a mistake, that Alan wasn’t what he needed. Eleven years of sleepwalking, waking up alone, lost, wounded. Was that going to be Gael’s fate? What could Gael possibly do about this, about Alan, about anything? He should turn and walk off as Alan did, return the resentment and the bitterness. Maybe they couldn’t connect. And yet… ‘I wanted it to go away.’ More words in his head. ‘I thought it would go away.’ Alan spoke as though Gael was beside him and yet the other man remained where he was, able to hear him as though they were sitting across from each other at a table. ‘You will have to learn to trust the process’. He clenched one of his fists again, looking down at it. He noted earlier that when Alan spoke about the length of time that he’d suffered, there was this look in his eye, something that reminded Gael of himself. He exhaled and slowly, letting his shoulders droop slightly to make himself seem a little smaller, he made his way to Alan where he turned on the spot once before sitting down next to him, next to the man he didn’t know aside from the things that he felt other people didn’t know. A diode was two parts, sending the flow of energy in the same direction. “Okay.” Gael breathed, somehow knowing that at his lowest that Alan could probably hear him too. Just another side effect of the brain damage, he assumed. “Okay.” He repeated. “If you’re willing to help me then I’m with you.” ______________ There was silence for a moment, and Alan figured Gael was going to do the only sensible thing then and leave his side. He’d tell Monty things didn’t work out, that perhaps Gael wasn’t ready yet. But the professor seemed like a genuinely good guy, and he felt bad, letting him leave without warning him about what could happen if he didn’t manage to get some sort of self control. He wasn’t sure what it was that convinced the other to trust him. Perhaps it was best not to know.

He didn’t look at him, still he nodded. “I think it would be good for you,” a pause. “I think it might do me good too,” having someone like him to talk to would be nice, and it would give him a purpose a bit more noble than what he did for his job (not that he saw himself doing anything else). At last, he tilted his head toward Gael, and though he still bore the traces of his outburst of anger, Alan’s face seemed to have softened, and he uttered an apology he knew the other would be able to hear. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be so bad at this,” ______________ Alan chose to look at him again and Gael saw a new, if somewhat hidden, emotion under the latent anger that creased his features. While the aspect of it benefiting the chemist seemed to lighten part of the weight he felt on his shoulders nowadays, he wasn’t going to admit that the thought that it would help Alan made him much more accepting of the idea; he truly found it easier to do things for other people and as far as he was concerned, this was an issue that Alan had for much longer and it didn’t seem like he had anyone to really talk to these problems about. Then again, maybe the professor was just projecting. “You don’t need to apologize,” Gael assured just as quietly. “I shouldn’t have just… sprang any of this on you, especially when you were just out and about looking for a diode for your model.” He couldn’t help but give a half-laugh that came out as a scoff, as though highlighting the ridiculousness of how they got to be talking about what they were talking about. He cleared his throat. “But, uhm… I really appreciate your willingness to help.” ______________ “You’re still helping me out with that diode,” he gave the other a small smile, unlike his usual near-arrogant one. “No copping out,” with a scoff to match Gael’s, Alan gave the other werewolf a pat on the shoulder as he stood back up. “C’mon, let’s go get that drink, then we can figure out when to start working on that sleep walking nonsense,” he’d never been one for beating around the bush, he didn’t have the patience for that. In the end, all that mattered was that Gael agreed to get some help. Alan was both excited and anxious with the perspective of helping him find out what he was. It would be nice to have someone like him to be around, it would be devastating to see Gael lose his mind as he realized what his life would now be like now. Alan could only hope the latter would never come to be, but in the end, it was yet another aspect of life that he would have no grasp on.

#WR Writing #wickedswriting #Writing: Wolf Like Me #Writing with: Alan #infidelity tw #drugs tw #[both tws mentioned]

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cloudbellsv3 · 1 year ago

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There's this one Stucky infidelity fic that I really like. I re-read it every so often as well because it's really well done. But I was thinking about how...I don't think I'd be as open to reading that same fic if it were Stony. There's just something about that kind of betrayal in my OTP that I can't forgive (and I had a hard enough time forgiving Bucky along with Steve in the fic I read). Like, for Stucky, it's a ship I like, but it's not my main, so I'm able to enjoy it for what it is, but for Stony, I'd be genuinely and wholeheartedly invested. And it would probably just tear me up inside.

#me my mine #fics #ao3 #this also might just stem from the way i view infidelity #i completely think it counts as emotional abuse and no one is convincing me differently #I've never even really been cheated on to THAT extent and I still feel so strongly about it #i didn't realize that was a controversial opinion until i said it irl and got looked up and down like i was crazy #tw infidelity #tw infidelity mention

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newyorkshq · 2 months ago

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Our Rosamund Chung (michelle yeoh) is looking for their SECRET LOVER (Muse B In Francesca). they DO NOT need to be contacted (but you can if you want to) and you can contact them @roschung! this connection is currently taken.

Type of connection: Romantic.

Name: UTP.

Age Range: 45+

FC suggestions: Pedro Pascal, Oscar Isaac, Idris Elba, Benjamin Bratt, Salma Hayek, Jessica Chastain, Bradley Cooper, Angela Bassett, Lucy Liu, Alexander Skarsgard, Nicole Kidman or UTP.

Connection trigger warnings: Cheating / infidelity.

Connection information: This muse met Rosamund at least six months ago just by chance — they were both grabbing after work drinks with their coworkers, and from the moment they met, the chemistry between them was obvious. They understand each other in ways no one else does. After several drinks, they exchanged numbers. At first it began as harmless flirting, discussing their shared interests, but before they knew it they let their desires take over and ended up in bed together. They both know it’s wrong — Rosamund is married, but they can’t resist each other. Their affair has been going on for a few months and it has got to the point where they’ve developed strong romantic feelings for each other. This muse makes Ros feel things she hadn’t felt in so long — sexy, desired, appreciated… loved, all things her husband doesn’t make her feel. The rest can be discussed after you apply!

#nycs.wc #tw cheating #tw infidelity #oc rp #city rp #appless rp #tw alcohol mention

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oswaldxmarks · 2 months ago

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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."

#ch: menodora #th: bad decision #ellipsus thread #swynsmut #TW Depression #TW Self-loathing #TW Maladaptive Coping #TW (Vague) Suicidal Ideation #TW Adultery/Infidelity #tw insects mentioned #🪲 menodora perhonen #//my tumblr froze and crashed two times trying to get this posted #is that a sign? maybe #but im ignoring it #//also sorry i stole your lil header bar image thing i don't have any and was too lazy to make one fjsdkfjsdla

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