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mat71201 · 1 year ago

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It's A Special Death You Saved (Feyd Rautha x Female!Reader)

a/n: re-uploaded cause tumblr wouldn't show it in the tags for some reason Cross-Posted on AO3

Warnings: Dub-Con, Arranged Marriage, Reader is an Atriedes, Horny Violence, and some angsty family relations (lmao)

Summary: The courting becomes more and more complicated, as both you and the Na-Baron discover something about each other.

Part.1

- He's a beast.

Lady Jessica stops in her tracks, her hands sliding gently across the fabric of your nightgown. It's your Mother, that puts it out on the table next to your bed. But the person, who turns back towards you with an unreadable expression, is most definitely not her. You're talking to a Bene Gesserit sister now. A freezing chill runs up your spine, and you start picking at the skin around your fingernails, a nervous habit you've picked up a long time ago.

- Have you forgotten all that I have taught you? - she asks, turning to face you fully, in the dimly lit space of your bedroom

Subconsciously you retreat into yourself, body leaning further away from her, as if that distance might save you from whatever unpleasant revelation will most likely fall upon you. Lady Jessica takes a deep breath, her lips pulling back into an easy, soothing smile. In the past, you would look for expressions such as this, fish them out for comfort. Now, as you look upon your Mother's face, it all seems to be a trap made specifically for you.

- Men like him, beastly men, are the weakest ones - she explains, taking slow steps towards your hunched form - They need the power and the blood to feel worthy of existing, which makes them easy to manipulate. Keep them pliant under your hands like fresh dough.

She sits beside you, your mattress dipping under her weight, and your eyes are immediately drawn to your Mother's elegant hands, folded neatly in her lap. You wish you could put your head there. Have her pull your running thoughts out with gentle caresses. A hairbrush lays abandoned on the vanity in front of you, and silently you contemplate, whether you'll ever have the opportunity to have your hair brushed by her.

- You must find his weakness, what drives him to do what he does. And then control it.

- I don't want to control my husband - the words spill out of your lips, before you have the chance to stop them - I want to love him, to support him. To give him children he'll love, children I'll love.

Tears fall in heavy waterfalls down your cheeks. You haven't had the luxury of a good cry since your betrothed had arrived, and it feels divine. Letting your body shake and shiver, wrecked by uninhibited sobs, as your Mother looks down upon you, torn between the two roles she must fulfill.

The more you've thought about your situation, the more hopeless you felt. The Harkonnens will never let you see your family again, you're sure of it. You'll have to deal with all the horrors of Giedi Prime entirely on your own, with no support from your husband, no friends, no family. And your children, as they are sure to come, will be taken away from you. Thrown into the black and white, until there's no love left in them.

The Emperror is a cruel man, you think. An execution would've been a kinder end.

- Why did you have to make me a Daughter? - the way your voice breaks in desperation fills you with shame - Why couldn't you give Father another Son?

You know you've overstepped, as soon as the accusatory tone registers in your brain. It is far too late by then, and the hands, which just moments before you've fantasized about running through your hair, grip you tightly. Your Mother's face, a constant image of beauty, twists into something darker, something you don't recognize, and you gasp, as her dull fingernails dig into the skin of your wrist.

- Your Father has Paul - her voice is barely above a whisper, blue eyes stabbing you with the intensity of her gaze - I gave him a son, because he asked for a son. Because I loved him enough to give him one. And he can have him. He can fill him with lessons of male leadership, of short-sighted plans. You. You are my Daughter. You are mine, and I've trained you well enough to conquer this task.

A hopeless pit settles itself in the void of your stomach.

You've always known your destiny would be to marry well, to further House Atreides' legacy. And yet, somehow, there was a sliver of hope, treacherously worming itself into your brain. Your Father had Paul, the perfect heir. Surely, he could send him off for the greater good and leave you to your own devices. Let you find someone to care for you, someone you'd do anything for. The thought sits in the pit of your stomach, turning your insides in shame. Still, you can't shake the sinking feeling, that if the universe was kind, you would've been born a Son.

Your Mother, or more likely, the Bene Gesserit, stands up, a cold chill filling the space where her body used to sit. She regards you once, a stern, unwavering gaze.

- Wear black tomorrow.

Perhaps, you'll die in your sleep tonight. Perhaps the universe will bring you this small mercy.

*** Perhaps you did die.

Through the haze of dreams, you can see him. Bare, as the day he was born, body gleaming white in the darkness of your room.

You can't move, can't see his face, and when he approaches, every single one of your muscles tense. You shift under the covers, cold tendrills of fear engulfing you entirely. He comes closer, moves like a wild cat, stands at the foot of your bed.

The need to run is overwhelming, but your body refuses to listen, as slowly, torturously slowly, he climbs on top of you, defined muscles moving under his skin in a way that reminds you of some cursed demon, rather than a man. His scent fills your nostrils, a mixture of something heady and metalic, and, like a little child scared of the dark, you try to hide your face under the covers.

This demon version of your betrothed sits down, sculpted thighs squeezing around your sides, and with rising panic you realize, he's slowly choking the life out of you. A fitting end, a welcomed one. Perhaps it would be better to die right now, before you discover what atrocities he plans to commit on your body and mind, after you're wedded.

Then, his hand reaches behind his back, full lips pull upwards, exposing blackened out teeth. You barely register the glint of his sword, not until he holds it high up, above his hand. You're not allowed a moment to wallow in your confusion, as your future husband brings the weapon down, sinking it with brutal force into your beating heart.

You awake screaming.

***

In the morning, you pull a black tunic over your head, remnants of your dream clinging to you like an unwanted shadow.

Every move of the silky fabric against your skin feels like a small defeat, and with your head hung low, you make your way towards the dining hall. Truly, you're not hungry, stomach turning and twisting, a steady presence of nerves keeping your body on edge. Your attendance is required however, such are customs, and it is entirely too eaarly for another lecture about your behaviour.

As you enter the room, your mask of tired indifference slips just for a second, a mixture of fear and anger flickering in, and out of existence.

There, opposite of your Father you can see him. Your future husband, the love of your miserable, ending life. Slow horror washes over you, as you suddenly realize that this demonic, otherwordly version of him, which visited you in your nightmares is just how he looks. He greets you with a polite inclination of his smooth head, and you consider not showing any outward sign of repulsion, a small victory on your part. Your Mother doesn't think so, but you dodge her sharp eyes in favor of greeting your brother.

It doesn't go unnoticed, the way Feyd Rautha's eyes drink in greedily the sight of you embracing Paul. His gaze lingers on your smile, and he raises his cup to his lips, scrunching his nose ever so slightly at the unfamiliar drink he's been offered. You want to ask, if they have coffee on Giedi Prime, but the question is forcefully swallowed down. You will not talk to this man. He will never know anything more than contempt from you. Curse your Mother's words, you'll fight this battle every day, on your own, if you have to.

- My Daughter will show you around the training barracks after breakfast - Duke Leto announces, and you freeze with a cup of coffee half-way to your lips.

- Will I? - you ask, trying to control the edge in your voice.

- Na-Baron has made inquires about a place to train - your Father explains, giving you a meaningful side eye - You'll accompany him.

The coffee tastes like rot in your mouth, and you place your cup down with a note of finality. You won't look at him, you don't have to. That knowing smirk could be felt through the very particles flowing in the air, every single one laughing at your predicament.

Despite your best efforts, the breakfast comes to an end, your family slowly rising to attend to their duties. Your Father, ever the cordial man, bids his farewells to the unwelcomed guest. Your Mother does the same, albeit sounding more honest. Paul lingers as long as Lady Jessica allows him, until he is forced to retreat by a slender hand tugging mercilessly on his elbow. A gesture both of you know intimately from your childhoods.

Before you know it, you're left alone with the pale imitation of a man. He arises slowly from his seat, smoothly making his way towards you, each of his footsteps echoing in the dining room.

- Shall we, my Lady?

Out of the corner of your eye, you can see his offered hand, like a white spider living just outside of your vision. With a shudder, you slip out of your chair, trying very hard not to touch him, and failing immediately, when his broad chest nearly pushes you back into your seat.

He smells nice, your brain betrays you, the scent bringing back images from your night terror, causing an involuntary shiver to run up your spine. With averted gaze, you turn to leave, ignoring his still extended hand. He follows you like a shadow, catching up to you in no time, as you slide through the corridors of the Palace. It's uncomfortable, to say the least, walking with him behind your back. His eyes bear into you, a prickly feeling at the base of your neck making you roll your shoulders.

It follows you, as he follows, right to the very destination. All in blessed silence, a small miracle to save this already dreadful morning.

The men, launging about at the training barracks freeze in their spots, and your heart nearly jumps out of your chest, when Duncan Idaho catches your eyes. His skin has a beautiful, warm tone, highlighted by the morning sun flowing into the room through the windows. You nod, he nods back, an unspoken understanding blooming between the two of you. There could be no suspicion of any closer bond, lest this engagement would be called off. A result, perhaps favorable to you personally, but your family would never live down the shame. And you would never jeopardize Paul's future, no matter how hollow yours looked.

- You have a warrior's body - your betrothed comments, as he inspects the blades laid out on a small table - Do you train here as well?

Small talk, you could do small talk. With a sigh, you tear your gaze away from Duncan, and turn to the Harkonnen, forcing something resembling a polite smile to bloom onto your features.

- Yes, I do - you answer curtly, eyes falling onto elegant, white fingers, sliding over a shiny metal blade.

- It is not a common practice here, is it? - he looks at you, eyes gliding over your stature - Women being trained to fight?

Suddenly very much aware of your body, you cross your arms on your chest, hugging yourself tightly. You don't miss the way his gaze seems to linger on the low neckline of your tunic, and with bitterness on your tongue you wonder, has this man ever felt ashamed.

- Not common, but it does happen - your voice betrays your emotions, a sharp edge settling over your tone, causing the man to arch an eyebrow.

Finally, he settles onto a chosen blade, bringing it up to the light and with laser focus observing the way particles dance on the steel surface. Then, he looks back at you, catching you in the act of observing the prominent, lean muscles on his neck. You ignore the knowing smirk and will your blushing cheeks to suddenly become devoid of color.

They don't, of course, and you scurry to the side of the table, to fiddle with the rest of the weaponry. Your favorite training blade is there, and instinctually, your hand reaches for it.

- Train with me.

The request catches you off guard, and you shoot him a questioning look, one he deflects with a nonchalant shrug.

Your muscles flinch, as you drag your hand back from the blade.

- It would hardly be appropriate - you counter, fingers fidgeting with the hem of your tunic.

To that, he tilts his head, light eyes studying you for a longer moment, until you truly feel uncomfortable under such scrutiny.

- And suddenly you're worried about what the court says? - he cuts you off, before you have the chance to ask, just what exactly does he mean by that - Perhaps you're too soft to fight me.

- I know what you're doing - you point an accusatory finger at his chest, and the man smiles, blackened teeth peaking between his full lips.

- And what am I doing? - it's hard to ignore the teasing timbre in his voice, and you swallow thickly.

- You're trying to get under my skin.

Shivering under the expected cruel glint in his eye, as another, most likely filthy innuendo purses his lips, you turn to him fully, a serious expression on your features.

- I've seen you fight, Na-Baron - his jaw tightens at the sound of your voice curling around his title - I know you're a force to be reckoned with, I'm not scared to admit that.

He straightens, regards you with furrowed brows for a longer second, until, yet again you start to fidget under his gaze.

- Perhaps then, you're scared you'll hurt me - the mere idea is so preposterous, your head snaps in his direction - If I had known, you liked me that much...

- That is entirely not true, and you know it - you deflect again, although annoyance begins to paint your voice.

Then, his hand shoots out, gripping your arm and pulling you closer. Air seems to thicken around you, as you look up at him, with surprise quickly morphing into outrage. His breath mingles with yours, and you can't seem to look away from his eyes, pupils nearly drowned in the overwhelming blue of his irises.

- Stop hiding, my viper. Fight me.

The command, spoken in a harsh whisper just shy of your lips, turns your insides into molasses.

His taller form leans down to tower over yours, an intense expression settling over his sharp features. Close to excitement, much too close to desire, even closer to a murderous curiosity. Your throat feels entirely too dry, and before you can stop yourself, you swallow thickly, tongue darting out to lick your lips. His eyes snap almost immediately downwards, and your heart stops beating. You can't see anymore blue in his irises, only black. Darkness covers his eyes reflecting his thoughts, and you feel like you have to flee right now, before something terrible happens to you.

So you do just that. Ripping yourself away from his closeness, you return to the table, hand finding your chosen blade without really looking.

Another flash of black teeth, as the Na-Baron realizes what you're doing, and the both of you enable the shields surrounding your bodies.

The gathered soldiers watch on, as you march towards the center of the room, determination filling every step to the brim. Duncan gives you a look, which you choose to ignore. You can't think about him now, not when you have your honor to defend against this Harkonnen monster of a man.

Feyd Rautha rolls his shoulders, discards the thin fabric of his dress shirt, and once again you are stricken with his almost god-like physique. The blade looks like an extension of his hand, as he weighs it and slashes the air in front of him. Then, he fixes you with a challenging expression, as if he expects you to do the same, to try and best him at some shameless display.

You decide to keep your clothes on, blade held high, ready to strike.

He jumps from one leg to another, and immediately an orchestra of alarm bells rings out in your brain. Should a man really be this excited at the prospect of fighting his future wife? Should you be this excited? Questions without answers, and before any of you make a move, another one absent-midedly floats to the surface. Just how much can you hurt each other, before the wedding is concluded? How much you'll inevitably hurt each other after?

The darkness he has brought on the ship with him must be contagious, because despite your better judgement, you smile. A sharp smirk, that makes your eyes look less like a human and more like a wild animal. And he drinks it all in, as he begins to circle you.

You'd never show him your back, never again. He's a tried and true predator, the only instinct he has, is a killer one. A fact you quickly get aquatinted with, as he unleashes a series of lightning fast strikes your way.

Immediately you realize, that small show of cruelty he organized at your grandfather's theatre was nothing, compared to what he could truly do. And still, you suspect he's holding back, as you barely dodge a nasty stab, right under your ribs. Another one is blocked against your sheild, and before you have a chance to collect yourself, third one sends you back a couple of steps.

He doesn't let you get away, with confident steps pushing you further and further out of the center of the training floor.

Out of the corner of your eye, you can see Duncan Idaho stand up from his place. Thinking back to your last training session, you shudder bitterly. "Never fight in anger" is easy to say, when you're not forced to marry, bed and sunsequently give children to the man you're fighting.

Panting and sweating, you give Feyd Rautha your all, twirling in place, sliding on your feet. A different kind of choreography, which seems to work surprisingly well, with his almost animalistic force. Gurney taught you how to be powerful, how to land strikes which were as effective, as they were cunning. Duncan, on the other hand, taught you how to dance. So that's what you do.

Finally, you manage to grab at his free hand, locking your feet between his and bringing him closer to your blade. It stops just short of his artery, blocked by his dagger, the clash of metal reverberating through the halls.

The smirk he gives you is beyond nasty, and forcefully, you push away from him, as if the very idea of skin to skin contact repulsed you. And it does, it truly does, especially now that adrenaline mixed with frustration boils in your head.

- Again - you snarl his way, assuming your fighting stance.

- As my Lady commands - his voice has a natural growl to it, made even more prominent by the exertion of the fight, and he twists his body into a perversion of a curtsy.

This time you're the one to attack first, ignoring your menthor's words and relying on pure rage to guide your steps. A stab to his thigh, which he deflects with seemingly childish ease. Your tunic slips through his fingers, as you slide under his arm. Out of the corner of your eye you can see his blade, when he hides it into his belt. Confusion hits you suddenly. Was he giving up, why was he hiding his weapon? None of the questions get answered, as a foot curls itself around your ankle.

Your balance leaves you with a gasp of surprise, and soon, your back is on the floor, Feyd Rautha following closely behind. Your heated gaze meets his, as one hand wrenches the blade from your grasp and pins both your arms above your head. The other one supports his weight, as he hovers above you, light bleeding behind him in an unfitting image of a halo.

Your chest heaves, sweat rolling down your collarbones, and the Harkonnen doesn't even try to hide the way his gaze follows a stray drop of salt, as it disappears between your breasts.

- You fought well - he complements in a hushed tone, and you writhe desperately under his body.

The night terror rears its ugly head again, as you feel his tighs press onto your sides, almost as if he wants to shape your flesh into the imprint of his body.

- I think I prefer you like this - he whispers, face coming closer to the exposed column of your neck - You belong under me.

That's what does it. Your face twists into an expression of equal parts disgust, and fury. You won't give him this victory, you'd rather die. Legs tangle themselves around his calves, and you use all your strength fueled by the burning need to fucking hurt him.

The world spins, two bodies rolling on the floor, and suddenly you're on top of him, legs biting into his hip bones. While one hand supports your weight on his naked shoulder, the other finds the dagger hidden in his belt. The surprised gasp, which leaves his lips feels like music to your ears, and you don't even try to fight the awful smirk splitting your mouth.

The shield on his neck glows an angry red, as you press the tip of the blade down, right under his bobbing Adam's apple. He swallows, for just a second letting you see the mask of self confidence slip. He has quite long eyelashes, you notice, as his eyelids flutter, a low hum reverbating through his chest. Eyes that are neither blue nor completely black drink in the sight of you. The halo of your hair, the snarl on your lips, the curve of your waist, where one of his hands settle.

Missing all of this, too enraptured by your own fury, you push the blade further down until it pricks his alabaster skin. He hisses through his blackened teeth and you want more, you want him to scream. A thin streak of red begins to flow down his neck, and God help you, it looks like art.

His grip on your waist tightens, all five fingers digging into your flesh through the thin tunic. Feyd Rautha bares his teeth at you in a cruel smile, one that makes you question whether you're the one in control.

And then his hips roll upwards.

A barely noticable movement, easily mistaken for a spasm of the muscles, but you know better. You can read it all from his expression, his pupils blown wide, the quickened breaths of air slipping past his lips. From the quickly hardening length pressing against your inner thigh.

Your stomach flutters with a well known feeling, and that terrifies you more than any pain-motivated erection ever could. Because he sees it, he sees the beginning flames of desire taking root in your center, and the realization looks like ecstasy on his face. Humiliation washes through you, fills you completely. There is no awkward blush on your face, no. All you feel is white, freezing terror, as all your defences seem to crumble all at once.

Like a scared animal, you're off of him in a split-second, and he doesn't chase you, as you all but run from the training barracks. Doesn't have to, he already has everything he needs.

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mat71201 · 2 years ago

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water’s edge | 03

₊˚.༄ pairing: crown prince!gojo satoru x f!reader | setting: modern royal au

₊˚.༄ summary: in a world where titles define their fates, gojo satoru, the crown prince of japan, and his wife-to-be, face a tempestuous court of deception and schadenfreude. as they waltz on the edge of ruin, can their love endure the treacherous waters that threaten to pull them apart, or will the whims of the enigmatic chrysanthemum throne prove strong enough to drown them both?

₊˚.༄ author’s note: please don’t kill me omg this took too long. also, thank you to the warmest of messages, it really helped a lot. <33 i’ll see this through to the end. and thank you for sticking by me all this time. rbs are appreciated<3

₊˚.༄ warnings: physical harm/abuse, references to theft, adultery.

₊˚.༄ masterlist

He doesn’t want to wake up.

Not right now, when everything feels so real, so painfully tangible that he could make out her voice, her gentle breath, her plumose touch grazing his flesh as she leans in. “Satoru?” The woman in his dream whispers his name, and light seems to burst forth from that sound alone. It’s her; she iswas here, Satoru could almost touch her if he searched hard enough. If he imagined her face with just a little more effort, maybe she’d become real and not a figment of his guilt-ridden imagination. “Satoru, wake up. We can’t stay.”

I’ve missed you, I’ve missed who I could be when I’m with you.

Suddenly, he is brought back to light-hearted days when he used to sit underneath the imperial palace’s cypress, his fingers absentmindedly flipping through a book he found in the imperial archives while the love of his life sits beside him. His orbs gaze up at the chemtrails that paint the canvas of the turquoise summer sky.

He doesn’t want this dream to end. Shaking his head, he refuses her request the same way he did back then.

How cruel could she be to ask him to leave her again? He’s left her once, he wasn’t about to do it again. He hasn’t even begged for her forgiveness yet and now, she was telling him to wake up from this fantasy world his troubled mind created and to confront reality.

Don’t make me go, he begs her. Weren’t they happy here being together after being forced apart by those around them? Why would she want to go another minute without him being by her side? Did she still resent him? Stupid question, Satoru thought bitterly. Of course she does, after everything he’s put her through-

Suddenly, the hand that was reaching for her falls slack against his side. He doesn’t deserve her forgiveness, nor the very privilege of claiming to love her when every action he has ever committed said otherwise. Then, like a clock striking at midnight, the dream abruptly vanishes in a cloud of smoke.

Gojo’s eyes flutter open with a start.

“Shit,” he clutches his still asleep shoulder and sits up, looking at the empty room. How long has he been asleep? He looks at his watch — he’s an hour late — but he doesn’t really seem to care about the time. Immediately, he sends a quick text to Himiko asking where she is, only to receive a text with a picture attached of the cathedral. It seems she went ahead thinking it would only stir up more trouble if they arrived at the venue together.

Gojo’s mind wanders back to the dream before it is inevitably forgotten. Like a movie that he wants to watch over and over. He gazes at himself in the full body mirror with an empty gaze. All that is in his mind is to smash the reflective material into pieces, knowing that this is not the man his love wanted him to be: a prisoner in his own skin. When is all of this ever going to end? He huffs, slipping on his shoes and shrugging on his navy blue sash.

Not wanting to delay the inevitable any further, he turns on his heel to head to the cathedral reluctantly leaving the traces of his now corroding past behind for an even bleaker future with you as his wife.

“…Where’s Satoru?”

The entire nation is silent when only moments before, they were happily celebrating this supposedly joyful day. A reporter trains his video camera on you as you stand there motionless before an empty altar. Pretty soon, other members of the media who would get a huge scoop out of this travesty follow in his example as if you haven’t been humiliated enough by your groom who couldn’t even bother to show up at your wedding.

The empress who is seated right of the altar shoots you an apologetic look; she didn’t realize that Satoru could stoop this low. This wasn’t anything less of a transactional marriage and you thought that the prize that Satoru was promised he would get for marrying you would be enough for him to at least be civil with you. And here you thought that the earrings he gifted to you were a sign that things would eventually settle down.

Without warning, as the VIP guests start to chatter amongst themselves about how pitiful you looked, the woman you dreaded seeing bounds over to you, a solemn expression on her face. You would have believed that, despite the quiet rift between you and Chief-of-Staff Himiko Zenin, she felt a little sorry for you but her choice of wearing white on your wedding day says otherwise.

“Ms. (Y/N). I’m sorry there must have been a problem with the schedule, if you could follow me please—“ she begins to lead you to one of the cathedral’s private holding rooms before the grip on your hand tightens.

“—Suguru?” you looked at Suguru with a sad and confused expression. His heart clenches in his chest when he gets a good look of the damage Satoru dealt to you. He looks like he wants to throw something at the press for making a dogshow out of your agony — his hands are clenched into fists, his knuckles white — he takes a few deep calming breaths before he does anything rash.

At Himiko’s persistence, Suguru’s gaze hardens and he gently pulls you away from her as your feet remain planted firmly on the marble floor of the cathedral, leaving you frozen in place at Satoru’s betrayal. He hopes what he’s thinking isn’t true, but that’s proving to be a challenge since he doesn’t miss the hickey on Himiko’s neck which had been conveniently hidden by her long brown hair. Maybe she had a part in all this mess? She and Satoru had a history together after all and judging by the way you looked at her with apprehension — he doesn’t want to consider it — but perhaps you already knew that.

You are blinded by a camera’s flash and Suguru springs into action. Turning to the nearest guest, he politely asks, “Excuse me? May I borrow your suit for a second?” When the guest agrees, he shields your face with the Zegna suit to conceal you from the hounding eyes of the press who must be having the time of their lives right about now. Just one picture of the Crown Prince’s crying bride could sell for a good buck but not on his watch.

Not on his fucking watch.

Suguru looks at his father, and then his stepmother, and he couldn’t bring himself to be surprised to see them frozen in their places unable to do anything, much less act like they care. Their priority was to look good in front of all these cameras that were terrorizing you, not to comfort their future daughter-in-law. “Hey, it’ll be okay,” Suguru begins to urgently lead the two of you back to the car, his arm protectively around you while you hold the suit over your head.

“Will it?” You probably sounded like a child, begging for reassurance that all this was some sick dream but at that moment, it didn’t matter. You need someone - anyone - to tell you that everything will be alright. The question makes Suguru’s heart sink. In all honesty, he doesn’t know, but he didn’t need to make you feel even worse if he spoke the truth. So, he nods, choosing to lie to spare you from even more pain because he couldn’t count on anyone in this goddamn cathedral to do the same. He’ll have to talk to Satoru later on, this is a bad start to any marriage - no, bad would be an understatement, this is a catastrophic omen of what’s to come.

Pretty soon, Suguru requests that the roof of the car be reinstalled to hide your desolate expression. “Put it back up, please. The princess must be protected!” In his panic, he accidentally refers to you as a princess even before you are formally crowned Princess of Japan. The imperial household agents quickly get to work and pretty soon, Suguru helps you back into the car, putting up the tinted windows.

You can’t feel a thing. You don’t even know if you should harshly laugh at your foolishness or cry now that you’ve just been humiliated in front of thousands of people all across the world. Shrugging off the suit over your head, Suguru is surprised to see that you weren’t crying. You simply sat there, blankly staring at the ring on your finger.

“(Y/N)? Come on, say something…” He’s desperately trying to get you to express the tiniest bit of emotion, somewhat unnerved by your silence.

Turning to look at him, you wonder if he had been surprised by his brother’s behavior today or if a part of him expected this to happen. “He hates me.” You were numb. “I don’t know if you already knew but—“

“—-It’s arranged, I know.” Suguru scoffs under his breath, almost in disbelief that he didn’t figure it out sooner when he first heard about your engagement. Just when he thought his family couldn’t stoop any lower than they already were, they just had to drag a naive girl into their royal messes. His father and stepmother always preached about modernizing the monarchy but, their archaic ways such as actively banishing a woman of the imperial family should they marry a commoner and having some sort of proclivity for disastrous matchmaking through arranged marriages only say otherwise. “Fuck,” he buries his face in his hand, the thought of this predicament was making his head hurt.

You remove the tiara from your head, somehow feeling that a weight has been lifted when you do so. In a span of mere seconds, Suguru now appears exhausted. “I thought he’d at least wait until after the wedding to ignore me for good,” you muttered sadly. “That was fine, you know, him acting like I don’t exist; I know I never stood a chance…against her.”

You recall the way Gojo’s lips locked with Himiko’s in a searing kiss, and the way your heart seemed to disintegrate in your chest as you drove off that day, your eyes on the rearview mirror, heartbrokenly watching the both of them as you convinced yourself that you had no right to feel bad. And that is precisely what makes this situation so difficult; you feel like Satoru is cheating on you when in fact, he isn’t because he never once told you he loved you. You should be angry, furious, crestfallen at your fiancé’s betrayal, but you couldn’t bring yourself to.

“Himiko,” Suguru nods in understanding.

He knows her well, and while he doesn’t exactly have any hard feelings towards her, he acknowledges that having her around in the imperial family is a misstep on Satoru’s part; he’s seen her many times before cajoling Satoru into ditching his royal duties for the two of them to spend time together, he has witnessed how she blatantly disrespects the emperor and the empress, he has also been made aware of the many lustrous gifts she has received out of his younger brother’s pocket.

“Yeah.” Your shoulders slump in defeat. “I never asked him to love me, I’m a lot of things but I’m not a thief.” You begin to shed tears as you try to convince yourself that you were perfectly fine with Satoru never loving you. You were so confused. Did you want him to love you? Are you now finding yourself craving for his ocean eyes to gloss over with an emotion other than hatred, an emotion similar to love?

Suguru watches you intently as these silent questions fly over your head. “You’d never ask him to love you but you love him…otherwise, why would you be on the verge of tears all the time whenever we talk about something remotely related to him if you didn’t?”

You swallowed harshly. “Is it so wrong though? To feel cheated on knowing we were never together in the first place?” You’ve been wondering about that since the day of the public announcement of your engagement and you’ve searched your heart for answers from the minute you wake up to the moment you fall asleep on your tear-stained pillow.

Suguru looks pensive for a moment, taking a deep breath before he speaks. “No, there’s nothing wrong with that. The heart wants what it wants, it’s pointless to even try to understand it.”

“But I don’t want my heart to want him.” You shook your head. You were going to be in for a world of hurt if you even entertained the idea of falling in love with Satoru Gojo. “He’ll never forgive me for it.”

A sad smile creeps up your face at the thought of Satoru admonishing you, one day, for saying you loved him even at his worst. Being in your early twenties, this was the age of recklessly falling in love, like a car speeding on an empty highway showing no signs of stopping, while you desperately look for the brakes.

A larger hand eventually finds its place above yours, his thumb gently rubs your knuckles that have turned white as you clenched them into fists to stop you from crying and making an even bigger fool of yourself.

“It’s not your fault. To be loved by another is a privilege most people overlook.”

You glance over at Himiko again, and then at yourself: you wore the dress but you weren’t the bride. You had the ring but not his affection. Feeling your gaze, Himiko looks at you for a brief moment and an exchange of sorts occurs between you and her: two women desperately envying one another. You had the vote of the people, yet, she had his heart. Almost in condolence, she offers you a curt nod before turning away.

“You are exactly the kind of girl he needs, (Y/N),” Suguru offers you his handkerchief to dry your tears with. “He’ll need you.”

“He’ll never want me.”

At exactly 2:35 in the afternoon, two hours and five minutes after you set foot at the chapel, Satoru arrives in a proxy vehicle, disguised as some foreign dignitary who arrived late. He steps out of the car behind yours and a collective sigh of relief washes over everyone. You craned your head back to see him dressed in the attire you first saw him in, a blank expression on his face as he was approached by his courtiers who instructed him on what to do.

Suguru looks in the direction of your gaze and he hurriedly steps out, squeezing your hand a final time as he does. A confused expression flashes over Satoru’s face when he sees Suguru step out of the bridal car. What was he doing there? According to the protocol sheet, wasn’t Ijichi supposed to be the one to accompany you today?

“Suguru,” Satoru greets his half-brother. “How’s she doing?” He suddenly asks about your well-being which causes Suguru to be taken aback for a second.

“She’s been crying but I think she’ll be fine now that you’re here,” Suguru informs him, looking back at the bridal car where you were. The older of the princes pulls the younger aside for a bit. “Where were you? She’s been waiting for more than an hour and—is that—?” He suddenly stops mid-lecture when he sees a bruise on the corner of Satoru’s bottom lip. Then, he recalls the hickey he saw on Himiko’s neck. “Satoru,” Suguru bites his lip to stop him from scolding Satoru.

What irks Suguru is that Satoru doesn’t even bother to hide it with the palm of his hand or even show a scintilla of regret. Did he really just fuck Himiko on the day of his wedding? “It was a farewell gift,” Satoru shrugs. “Besides, I’m here now, does it really matter?”

“Yes, it does,” Suguru pinches the bridge of his nose. “You’ve no idea the amount of trouble you caused (Y/N) today, how are you even going to begin to make it up to her?” Not like Satoru plans to make it up to you. In his eyes, you should be on your knees thanking him for showing up at all.

Satoru clears his throat, fidgeting with his left epaulet. “I did nothing wrong.” He believes every word he says. He did nothing wrong, he has nothing to make up for when it comes to you. He never betrayed you, there isn’t a relationship to ruin in the first place. “Himiko did nothing wrong to her and still, she’s suffering the consequences of my actions which shouldn’t be the case since, if I can remember correctly, if it weren’t for her intervention, if she hadn’t stepped in at the last second, you’d be visiting your own brother in jail.”

“Well, if you deserve it, I’ll even bring some snacks,” Suguru counters, earning a harsh warning glare from Satoru. He takes a second to steady himself before continuing. “Look, Satoru, what you did that night isn’t something that’s easily made up for like your little affair with Himiko.” Gojo scoffs in response to that. “You didn’t just hurt our family this time, or that man you brutalized, you hurt the entire nation. And you have to at least make some effort to clean up after yourself—“

“—By making my life a living hell without the woman I love? Forced instead to be with the likes of her? How is forcing the two of us to marry for some shitty publicity stunt any more evil than everything I’ve done in the past?” Isn’t that what they all thought of him?

“—She’s not doing anything evil, she did nothing to hurt you—“

“—She did everything to hurt me by forcing me into this marriage, ripping me from the future I dreamed of with Himiko, so you don’t dare make her out to be some saint because she isn’t.”

A hush descends on the two brothers: one who’s made it his life’s mission to despise you and one who’ll vouch for your integrity. The two stare each other down, wondering how it was possible they shared a father yet they couldn’t be more different. Perhaps, it’s the fact that Suguru was never the empress’s child, rather, he was born of a common woman – a reluctant homewrecker, which would explain, at least to Satoru, why he’s so protective of you. A whore’s son will defend a whore.

Geto doesn’t see you step out of the car, you must have heard the commotion outside the car when Satoru arrived. You blankly stare at Satoru for a good minute who seems to have just finished up a heated discussion with his brother. He looked angry, but why should that surprise you? Some of the imperial household staff encourage you to re-enter the car until the prince has made his way to the altar, but you couldn’t listen, you were simply at a loss for words.

He was here.

Almost three hours late, but he's finally here.

Satoru scowls when he sees you. He’s tried his best to be civil with you, but from what he’s heard from Suguru just now, you were clearly turning everyone against him. Sensing his anger, you tilt your head down for any crime you could have committed whether knowingly or unknowingly, but it seems more like the latter since he always finds something new to hate about you, an act that came so effortlessly to him.

“I don’t want to hear another word about (Y/N) from you.” Satoru turns his wrathful gaze to his brother who simply matches his death glare with a bored and disappointed look. Suguru lets out a tiny ‘tch’ at Satoru’s command, his hatred for you is an established fact, after all, and not just some rumor he’s heard from a jittery bride — the very sound of your name was like nails on a chalkboard to him.

Suguru couldn’t believe this. Satoru has been the one willfully hurting you ever since the two of you had that under-the-table arrangement with the empress yet, he had the sheer nerve to act like he was the one being wronged. While he understands his brother’s sentiments, you didn’t want any part in this in the first place, and whatever has driven you to this point of gambling your entire future on a man who doesn’t love you must be something that could persuade you to put up with this torture. “Is that a request or a command?” Suguru says flatly, the two men watching you get briefed by the floor director like some actress for a commercial shoot.

“A command from your emperor.”

“Fortunately, you’re not the emperor yet.”

Suguru promptly leaves to take his place beside you, nodding to Satoru to get moving and head to the altar already. You shakily take Suguru’s hand, waiting for the doors to open to restart the ceremony. “He looks angry.” You watch your groom storm to the back of the cathedral. Suguru wants to kick himself, the last thing you needed was Satoru to take out his anger on you once the two of you are alone.

“Sorry, I’m sure it’s just another one of his tantrums. He’ll cool down.” You sincerely hoped that was true. The last thing you need is Satoru getting even with you by suddenly walking up to Himiko and obscenely reciting his vows to her, though you were unaware that the two of them had indeed made a vow to continue loving one another earlier today whilst you were being publicly humiliated by domestic and international media for your failure of a wedding day.

You watch as Himiko scurries to the back of the cathedral as well, and you feel bile rise in your throat at the mere thought of what they could be doing behind closed doors. “Don’t even think about it, (Y/N). Don’t,” Suguru says firmly. “Just keep your eyes forward, and concentrate on taking one step at a time.”

“I can’t. I just can’t.” You can’t shake them out of your head no matter how hard you try. “The more I try to forget about them, the more I can’t stop thinking about it.”

“Think of something else,” Suguru suggests. “Anything else.”

The last thing you need right now is imagining Himiko and Satoru obscenely murmuring whispers of love to one another, assuming that that’s the worst they could do. But from what Satoru told him earlier, Suguru might need an anti-hypertensive, enraged at the thought of those two literally screwing one another while you were out here on the verge of an emotional breakdown waiting for a groom who can’t be bothered to show up on time.

“Five minutes ‘till the doors open. Everyone, please stand by now,” Ijichi peeks out of one of the cathedral’s entrances, eyeing you particularly, as the great double doors slowly creak open, again revealing the majestic interior of the cathedral. Ijichi holds up a hand, signaling you to wait for the Trumpet Voluntary to start playing. You hold your breath then at the sound of the first chord, you and Suguru begin to walk down the altar.

It’s a long way to the front but the sheer distance between you and him couldn’t dull Satoru’s inimitable contrarian beauty, a prose you simply can’t understand. “Don’t look anywhere else. Focus on the act, focus on what you can see,” Suguru reminds you but really you get what he’s trying to say. Don’t go looking for Himiko.

And the only person you can see right now is him, Satoru, the man you are falling for at such a dangerous acceleration that if you were in a car on the freeway, you’d crash and burn in a heap of scorched gasoline in your crazed attempt to outrun these shittyass feelings.

You gulp as you continue on. How is this taking forever? Step by step, you are racing to your own demise. You just know it. But the doors are closed behind you, forever separating you from your past, there is only him. A bitter future.

“Suguru,” The two of you reach the nave of the cathedral, and just a few meters away from the altar, you stop on cue and wait for Satoru to lead you up the steps, towards the altar where the Archbishop of Tokyo is standing. “Thank you for being there for me.”

“Well, it was either me or Ijichi.”

Satoru begins to descend down the steps and a look of annoyance passes through his features when he sees you and Suguru chuckling to one another like you’ve been friends for the longest time. But then again, he can’t really seem to complain, having you off his back because you’re all too busy being chummy with Suguru doesn’t seem to be too bad. Satoru casts a glance towards Himiko and then over to you.

“Let’s go.” Satoru takes your hand and you are surprised at how he doesn’t seem to have any intention to drag you towards the archbishop. Nodding, you follow your groom’s lead. The ceremony is foreign, no other imperial couple has ever been married in a Christian ceremony so, even Satoru, who has been born to know all the imperial customs, is left trailing off and even, stuttering at some points during the entire affair.

Eventually, the two of you tide miraculously through it and in just one hour, you aren’t (Y/N) (L/N) anymore, but instead, you are Princess (Y/N) Gojo, the wife of the crown prince. The usual kiss between the bride and the groom is omitted to preserve the usual custom for an imperial Shinto wedding. As the archbishop and the other key religious figures in Japan gather behind you and the prince, your maid of honor, Utahime, solemnly bows before you with your bouquet in her hands. You turn just a bit to greet her and something catches Satoru’s eye now that your veil was no longer obstructing your features.

It can’t be.

The Tokyo Philharmonic Orchestra begins to play the recessional and you and Satoru bow before the emperor and empress, traveling down the aisle, your hands interlocked. Somewhere halfway through to the cathedral doors, you feel Satoru gripping your hand a little more aggressively than usual. “Satoru?”

He’ll give you the benefit of the doubt. Surely, you wouldn’t. How on earth did you find those earrings? Unless, someone had snuck into his room and nabbed it while he was asleep earlier. Something in Satoru tells him that you probably didn’t know and that you probably didn’t do it intentionally — stealing from him — but that doesn’t excuse the fact that you’re wearing it like it’s yours when clearly, it didn’t belong to you.

Satoru never thought he’d see it again, having kept it locked up in his drawer of memories past their due date to be completely forgotten. He never thought it would ever see the light of day again. But here they were, still in mint condition, reminding him of everything that has slipped through his fingers and everything he has destroyed thus far.

“Not here,” he hisses, glaring at you and that’s enough to get you to shut up.

Satoru has been indifferent up to this point, and sure, he may be seeing someone else but he is normally civil with you, with a few occasional snarky comments muttered under his breath, but he has made every effort to keep a handle on his emotions. Not once has he ever seemed as angry as he is now. But the scary thing is, you don’t even know what you’ve done other than wrench him away from Himiko and even that was unintentional on your part.

You make it to the car and he slides up the privacy shutter so the driver doesn’t hear a word. It’ll take a few minutes for the convoy to get moving en route back to the Asakusa Palace, the imperial palace that had been originally built to serve as the crown prince’s chief residence before it was turned into a state guesthouse by the National Diet.

Settling into the seat next to you, Satoru’s breaths are ragged trying to control himself from choking the life out of you. His voice comes out, a dangerous edge to it. “Where’d you get those?” He asks this question like one wrong move or syllable could cost you dearly.

“What—?” And as expected it does when you don’t reply quickly enough, not exactly knowing what he’s talking about.

With one swift movement, Gojo abruptly yanks off the earring off your right ear causing you to gasp in shock as it shatters in his grip. “I-I don’t know what you mean…!” you pleaded with him.

“You little thief,” Satoru stares down at the crushed earrings for a while before flinging it onto the car floor. “When did you steal this? Who did it for you?” He hits you with a fusillade of accusatory questions and you whimper in fear. Just like a kicked dog, Satoru rolls his eyes at you. “Answer me!”

“I didn’t steal them!” you protest your innocence. “Please, you have to believe me!”

Satoru punches the window of the car next to you, cutting off any more of your pleas, they’ll fall on deaf ears anyway. “Did you order one of the servants? Maybe Ijichi? Who stole this for you?” He asks again.

“N-no one I swear!” you inched away from him.

A huff escapes his lips when he realizes he isn’t getting anywhere with this and Gojo finally relents after what seemed like an eternity of him holding your head underwater. Your breath comes out in shaky huffs, utterly afraid. You look even uglier now with that expression, he rolls his eyes. “Don’t look at me like that.” The monarch sneers at the horrified look on your face. “Like you don’t deserve any of this.”

You wanted to speak against that but he’s right. You should have known that every one of your actions wouldn’t go unpunished on Satoru’s watch when, as he unfailingly implies every time the two of you are within ten feet of each other, you’ve single-handedly ruined his and Himiko’s entire lives.

“You’re right.”

He feels a wave of annoyance at how pliant you sound, struggling to remain calm after lashing out on you like that. He looks over at you, his mind filled with a mixture of anger and just a tiny bit of remorse when he sees your pained expression. He’s aware that what he did was out of line, and while he normally gets into spats with others, he’s never one to lay a hand on a woman much less even think about doing something of that magnitude.

“You know, when you ran away that night when we met at that restaurant, you should have gone straight home.”

That way, you’d be spared from all this despair. He almost sounds regretful for what he did and what he will continue to do, but he really didn’t mind if he never knew your name in the first place.

“That would have made the most sense, yeah.” It’s quiet in the car despite the thundering cheers outside. Satoru looks pensieve, his lips pursed into a thin line. “But there weren’t any taxis that night and the empress is pretty agile for her age.”

“What did she say? Did she offer you money?” Satoru casts you a disgusted look.

You wonder if you should tell him. You doubt there’d be another chance for you to tell him the real reason you agreed to marry him. There won’t be another vulnerable moment like this, you just know it. Satoru deserved to know why you’d kill yourself over and over again in your ill-fated quest to love him, to accept him.

Somehow, you can’t help but feel you’re so dishonest compared to him, at least, Satoru had the decency to be casually cruel and brutally honest about Himiko to you, making no attempt to hide the plain fact that he doesn’t love you and he never will. But at the same time, you don’t want to make things even more difficult for him by burdening him with the truth, so you settle on maintaining your silence. He could believe whatever he wanted to believe, not that he’ll ever change his opinion of you.

“You’re not even gonna deny it?” Satoru sneers.

“Even if I do, you’ll never believe me.”

How could he? All you’ve done and all you will do from this point on is lie, lie, lie. Lie that you married him without accepting any personal favors from the empress, lie that you don’t deserve half of what’s happening to you right now, lie that you don’t feel physically sick when you see Himiko — the very woman you’ve trampled on, the woman closest to his heart — lie that everything will eventually turn out alright, lie that you’re not dying every second a hate-filled syllable falls from his lips, lie that you could ever stop this mad freeway chase of loving Satoru Gojo.

But the freeway is empty, your opponents long gone, the stoplight to doomsday is perpetually green, and all that’s left is a husband that wishes you were dead. You dejectedly take off the earrings’ pair and set it down on the seat in between the two of you, returning another thing you unwittingly stole from him.

Eventually, the convoy reaches Asakusa Palace and on the historic balcony of the 19th century Western-style palace, he takes your hand as the members of the imperial family wave to the crowd, thinking this day to be a hard-won triumph. Satoru meets your lips for the first time, you are left taken aback at the forced gesture, but there is warmth in that eternal split second that you felt his hot breath against yours, maybe some affection even.

But then again, you are known to be a delusional optimist who still believes her mother who has been in a coma for almost three years now will one day wake up.

Satoru pulls back his eyes that have been wide-open during the kiss scanning over your face and he sees nothing. Nothing at all worth loving. You were just simply you, and that in his eyes, is your biggest crime. You don’t show up to the wedding reception.

That same night, Satoru doesn’t show up to your room either. Instead, he sits in the dark of his office, staring at the earrings he recovered from you under the yellowish light of his desk lamp. His fingers brush over the ruined bejeweled earrings; no one will be able to use it now. Somehow, he feels he should apologize to you for scaring you like that. You should, he could almost hear her say.

He sighs deeply, looking over at his ashtray. Not bad, he expected he would finish an entire pack tonight, but he’s only made it to four before he started coughing. She never really liked his habit of smoking anyway.

The door to the study creaks open breaking the silence, but Satoru doesn’t look up, only one person would be brave enough to intrude in his office past dark. The crisp floral smell of top-shelf whiskey fills the air. “Got you something to drink.” Himiko sets down the glencairn on the desk, planting a kiss on Satoru’s lips which he surprisingly doesn’t return with equal devotion much to her dismay.

Her eyes then fell on the jewelry piece Satoru was holding. “Did someone else go into my room today?” That alone could explain how the highly-revered Golconda diamond earrings fell into your hands. It wouldn’t be hard to steal since the night before, whilst he was searching for a lousy wedding gift he could give you, he accidentally left the earrings outside its dedicated safe.

Himiko stiffens at the question, but she quickly recovers her composure. A hysterical woman like you could never hope to win Satoru over the same way she has. “I don’t know, I didn’t see someone on my way out,” Himiko shrugs.

“Did you at least see them still sitting on my nightstand on your way out?”

“I didn’t notice.”

Somehow, Satoru finds that a little difficult to believe but he knows she wouldn’t lie to him. “I saw (Y/N) wearing these earlier today.” He places the earrings back in their respective box, tucking it away, and making a mental note to chuck it in the safe later tonight before he goes to bed.

Himiko’s throat runs dry as she wracks her head for a response. “Oh?” She moves to sit on his lap, her arms wrapping around his shoulders. “I’m guessing you got pretty angry.”

“I did,” Satoru sighs. “But I just can’t wrap my head around one thing.”

“What’s that?” Himiko asks softly. Her heart was pounding in her chest. The last thing she needs is for her little plan to get Satoru to be angry with you on your wedding day to backfire. “Look, haven’t we already established that she’s a golddigger? Are you really that surprised she stole them?”

Satoru shrugs.

It doesn’t add up.

He understands that you might have shown interest in it, and maybe it did cross your mind to steal them, but how could you have known these pieces existed? It’s not like you ordered one of your ladies or retainers to specifically steal the Golconda earrings, it just didn’t make sense to him, even then, some of your retainers might not even be aware that such a thing existed especially since most of them have only been recruited by the Imperial Household Agency recently.

“Look, why don’t we just forget about it, hmm? We could sneak out and go for a drive somewhere. I’m sure (Y/N) won’t mind,” Himiko presses open-mouthed kisses up Satoru’s neck, her hand coming up to fondle him through his slacks. “Come on, you need some cheering up.”

“I’m not driving at this hour, we could stay here.”

Satoru’s eyes flutter close at the sensation, his hand gripping Himiko’s slender waist, allowing her to continue her ministrations. He did need some cheering up after today’s dismal affair. But at the same time, he can’t stop his thoughts from wandering away from how Himiko is unbuttoning his shirt. Damn it. Satoru can’t focus on her, it’s like his normally calculated mind descended into a valley of fog.

Himiko grimaces at Satoru’s lack of attention. She quickly stops her futile attempts at intimacy. “Just stop thinking about them. You got them back, didn’t you?” she says, a hint of frustration laced in her voice. “Besides, even if (Y/N) did steal them, it’s not like you’d have any use for them anymore.”

Something stirs within Satoru and before he could stop himself, a flash of anger appears on his usually calm and flirtatious demeanor when he’s with Himiko. “That’s not the point. You know very well what those earrings mean to me.”

He’s shared it with her before. She knows everything about him, more so than anyone who has ever known anyone else on an intimate level before. There exists a version of Gojo that only Himiko knows, and keeps like a sacred prayer. Which is exactly why Satoru is livid about her downplaying the importance of everything he keeps in his safe, his personal mausoleum of the warmest spring of his youth that he would have longed for still had it not been for Himiko.

Himiko, for once, allows herself to be vulnerable even if for just a bit. And a look of pure hurt takes over her lovestruck demeanor earlier. But that is instantly replaced with anger. Anger at Satoru for continuing to hold onto things that should have no meaning anymore because she’s here now. Loving him is a dangerous game, what else could she expect from a man who is caught between the past and the future?

“Forget it.” Satoru stands up, shrugging Himiko off his lap. “I’ll find out one way or another. You should go home.”

Himiko painfully picks up on the fact that Satoru told her to ‘go home’ and not ‘head to bed’, meaning she won’t be sleeping with him tonight. Satoru runs a hand through his mop of white hair, calling Ijichi. He knows it’s late but Ijichi should still be in the premises right now.

“Ijichi? I’m heading out.”

“What now? It’s two in the morning. You still have a ribbon-cutting ceremony to go to with the princess tomorrow.”

“Just get over here right now, I won’t take long.” He’ll still show up to that stupid ribbon-cutting at the University of Tokyo with you tomorrow. Speaking of you, he should probably refrain from doing such things again. He begins to think of ways he could, in a way, make it up to you for his behavior but that doesn’t mean you’re out of the frying pan just yet.

Just because he’s suspicious about these circumstances doesn’t mean that he believes your desperate plea earlier that you didn’t attempt to steal an integral part of his past. No one could replace the person whom those earrings first belonged to. Not even the woman standing in front of him right now, the object of his desires, the source of your pain.

“What? You’re going there again? Don’t tell me you’re still hoping she’ll answer for once.” Himiko’s nostrils flared in anger at the thought of Satoru leaving.

“Don’t push it, Himiko.” Satoru takes a dangerous step towards her which causes her to somehow shrink in fear. “I don’t wanna hurt you.”

“You’re already hurting me!”

What Satoru says next is like a bullet being fired through a thin sheet of glass.

“(Y/N) is enduring far worse than you and she still seems to be grateful about it. Why don’t you accompany her for a week? Maybe learn a thing two about being silent like her?”

Satoru leaves.

He comes back at about eight o’clock the next morning to see your newly framed wedding photo shattered on the floor next to a crumpled up picture of another person whose name Satoru couldn’t even speak without bursting into bitter tears midway.

How ironic it is to be married on the day he lost her.

water’s edge taglist: @dummyf @kentokaze @esthelily @mandysfanfics @userbananababes @strawberryjimin13 @snowprincesa1 @naturallyspontaneous @kooromin @gojoist @dcvilxswish @13-09-01 @peachipeachy @iluv-ace @sawendel @helloitsshitzulover @jjuniescuderia @ackermendick @starrylibras @timetobegone @heelariously @idktbhloley @jeon-blue @8aif9sgbsnn @purpleguk @rednezvous @yeseurri @floralsightings @yoheyyosup @dontwannacry04 @dragonladyy @darling006 @ethereally-lyann @nikitopia (still open!)

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mat71201 · 2 years ago

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drabble series masterlist

- Lucy Gray Baird & Daughter!OC, endgame Lucy Gray Baird x Coriolanus Snow

Note: This drabble series will be written non-linearly, please keep that in mind when reading, thank you!

0 prologue

1 tigris meets her niece (WIP)

6 annie gets reaped

[...]

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mat71201 · 2 years ago

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VIII. ~Survival~

Summary: You were determined to survive longer than anyone, even if you were set to marry him.

Genre: Historical AU, angst, mature, suggestive, arranged-marriage

Warnings: Dark themes, gore, graphic imagery, theme/depictions of horror, swearing/language, suggestive, pet names (Little Flower used 5-6x) implied harsh parenting {on Sukuna's end), mentions of adult murder, implications of impregnating, implied Stockholm Syndrome, images/depictions of dead bodies (both human and animal), child death/murder, character death(s), slight misogynistic themes (if you squint), NOT PROOFREAD YET (sorry ;-;)

Word Count: 6.5k

A/N: For starters, I want to clarify that I am choosing to purposely not mention the names of the twins. Although this makes it difficult on my end, I wanted you, the reader, to decide on the names of your choosing while reading.

P.S. This is the longest chapter I have written. Sorry it took so long but I hope it proves well and worth the wait. (╥﹏╥)

JJK Mlist•Taglist Rules• • Pt.I • Pt. II • Pt. III • Pt. IV • Pt. V • Pt. VI • Pt.VII • Pt. VIII • Pt. VIIII

You could see the fire, smell the blood, and hear their screams as they begged for mercy. They cried out for their children and loved ones whose bodies were now burning in the roaring flames, reduced to cinders and ashes. Those who threatened to charge were killed before they could make contact, their body contorting in ways the human form was incapable of, causing cries of pure agony as they were left to bleed out in their mangled state– they were left to suffer in their pain as the life slowly drained out of them. If a suffering soul was fortunate, the fire would catch them aflame and kill them faster, or debris would land in a fatal spot or crush them whole to end their misery.

Viewing the demolished structures and flaming bodies, both dead and alive, was a petrifying view– yet you felt nothing. Your breath was methodical, your expression blank, your body unmoving. Pity and remorse were thrown out the window– fear and anguish had long vanished; however, anger and resentment lingered like a tiny flickering flame that continued to grow with each crumble and cry that could be heard.

Although your exterior appearance seemed calm and collected, your heartbeat said otherwise as it accelerated, pounding against your chest so hard you could eventually drown out the hollars of distress with its rapid thumping.

“Mama, look!” Two voices sounded.

Your breath hitched as the familiar calls rang through your head. The pounding in your chest quickened and strengthened when the footsteps got closer. Hearing their giggles and whispers caused your form to tense– not having the strength to say or do anything. How would you explain your current position? How would you tell them tha-

“Mama, are you alright?”

You snapped out of your daydream to see you were in front of the stream, taking care of your personal tasks, this chore being the cleansing of garments. The query of when you arrived there was unknown, but you would assume it had been for way longer than you should have resided in that area. The dreams you would endure during the solace of night, despite those nights being anything but comforting, had begun bleeding into the day and becoming more prevalent and gruesome. It was becoming quite the distraction.

"Mama?"

Before you could allow your thoughts to consume you, you focused your attention on your son and daughter, who were awaiting your reply with innocent eyes. Yeah, their virtue never ceased to amaze you. They were too good for this world– their empathy brought light to your soul that you believed had burnt out long ago– pride and joy.

You looked at your twins with an awaiting gaze as you watched their expressions turn into excitement at the realization they had caught your attention. You blinked once before being met with a piece of parchment littered with ink. It did not take long to realize that the twins had made you something in their short time away. Blinking up at the two, you gave them a fond grin before looking back down at the material. Upon viewing the parchment, you saw an image of what you assumed to be an image of a bird, and next to the picture was a small note.

" To show gratitude to our dearest mother," you read aloud before holding the small gift to your chest, "Thank you, my loves, it is lovely."

The joy on their faces from the small compliment warmed your heart, referring to your previous statement of them being too good for this world. There were moments when you could not believe that the twins were a product of you and Sukuna– that was a reoccurring thought you had often. They were, without doubt, your most significant and last blessing as things around the temple had not been going as smoothly as they once had been the first few years you resided in it, and it was clearly starting to take a toll on everybody, including you.

"Mama, guess what we learned today?" Your son exclaimed excitedly, causing you to jump a little, not expecting the sudden outburst of enthusiasm.

"Was it penmanship because the both of you are getting better. Have you been practicing like I have told you to?" You joked, poking at their bellies, causing them to giggle.

"No, Mama, Father taught us about Jujutsu!" your daughter shouted enthusiastically.

"Hey, I wanted to tell her," the boy pouted.

"Sorry," your little girl apologized as she turned to look at her brother with an apologetic look.

The sibling tried to look upset, not wanting to give in quite yet, but when he turned around to look at his sister's guilty expression, he launched to hug her. If you had said it twice, you were to state it a third time– the world did not deserve this pair– you could not stress that enough.

"Did he now?" you breathed, your anxiety slowly creeping to the back of your neck like it did so often.

You were aware of the agreement you made with Sukuna all those years ago, and as of things so far, you both were holding up to your ends of the deal. The twins continued to be educated under your supervision and occasionally your attendant. Your little girl and boy were now at the ripe age of six, at which they would begin manifesting their cursed energy, so they were now taking lessons under their father's supervision– that notion made you apprehensive of your deal.

As you previously mentioned, things were not going as smoothly as they once were. Your village has become slightly non-compliant recently. The traditional wedding ceremonies had stopped a little over a year ago as families started refusing to hand over their kin to Sukuna. Despite the disrespect, Sukuna had no care as he had plenty of women to satisfy him; however, to say that he was taking the rebellion lightly would be a complete lie. Over the last few years, more guards were posted for precautionary reasons. Nothing major had happened yet, only the occasional distant and muffled voices chanting in protest.

With such circumstances, emotions were running high, and the crowd only seemed to get bigger as the days passed. You could admit that some days were worse than others, but it did not change the fact that these events could cause a catastrophic resolution at the hands of your husband. Viewing the situation, there was no question that Sukuna would be more occupied than usual; however, it was not amid meetings or trivial tasks but with his children instead.

Sukuna could hardly be viewed as a legitimate father but rather a mentor– a cruel one based on the round, tear-stained cheeks that would walk into the garden after they had spent their designated time with their dad. The only children who seemed the slightest bit content with their learnings were your son and daughter. Your twins have not been training for long, but they had outlasted most other kids regarding their spirits breaking. The first day your little boy and girl had left to meet with Sukuna, you could not help but feel nervous; however, when they came back, they were all giggles and smiles as they told you of their time with the man they call father. To say you were shocked was an understatement, but despite that astonishment, you were simply glad they left a good impression and walked out unscathed, their spirits still intact.

"So, have your studies with your father come to fruition yet?" You asked, not thinking of your wording as the question effortlessly slipped from your tongue.

"Come to fruition?" your son repeated, looking at his sister to see if she understood the meaning of your words.

Despite your children being clever, they were still young and naive, and that naivety could not help but make you laugh gently as you watched them whisper to each other as they tried to decipher the saying. They paused in their little hushed conversation at your breathy giggle, flustered as they looked at you, hoping you would grant them the knowledge they wanted.

"Mama, stop laughing. What does it mean?" the two whined in sync as they looked at you with awaiting eyes.

"Alright," you managed to say between your little fits of giggles, "It means to succeed in the progression of a goal. In this case, did you reach the intended goal of your lessons today?"

Your twins thought over your words for a minute before a look of realization washed over their faces. The two looked at one another to make sure the other understood, finding they were both on the same page before turning to your now-awaiting gaze. Smiles were once again plastered to their expressions of proudness.

"Not exactly," your daughter stated.

"What do you mean, 'not exactly'?" you questioned with a raised brow as you looked for an answer.

"Well...we do not have cursed energy yet, but Father said it was okay because we will..." Your son trailed off before looking at his sister for assistance, trying to remember the exact words Sukuna had used.

"Manifest!" your daughter shouted in revelation after a moment of thought.

"Oh yes, manifest! He said it was okay because 'we will manifest our cursed energy soon enough,'" your son finished, ignoring the distant whispers and tiny gasps that had suddenly emerged from the surrounding women and children.

"And you both will, I am sure of that– my intuition is never wrong," a deep voice resonated behind the twins.

You froze as you looked up to see Sukuna looking down at you, a proud grin on his face as he let the words settle. Your smile had long disappeared, your lips forming into a tight line as you met his gaze. His presence was not what had upset you as you had grown familiar with his company and unexpected visits, but rather the fact that you knew he was right.

"Father!" the twins shouted, bowing before going in to hug his legs, looking up at him with their innocent doe-like eyes that shone the color of your own hues, little flecks of what seemed to be crimson could also be seen if the light hit them just right.

Your heart stopped for a second as you watched your four-armed companion freeze on the spot at the sudden attention. Although you knew Sukuna could not lay a hand upon his children due to the contents of the pact you had made with him, it did not eliminate the uneasiness you had, worried of the thought he would grow to distaste them. The curse-user was not a man of tenderness nor liked to be presented with such fondness, especially from his offspring. There was no room for weaklings in his realm, in hid brigade of suitable heirs.

You sit there, waiting for his reaction, chewing on your lip to the point it draws a small amount of blood. The man stood stiff, looking down at the two smaller beings that clung to his legs in a warm greeting before moving to bend down, causing your heart to spike in rhythm. The questions flooded your brain once more like they often did when it involved your significant other's actions. Sukuna took a set of his arms, placing one on each twin's back before meeting their eye level.

"Did I ever indulge either of you with the story of how I found out about your mother's conceiving of the both of you?" Sukuna asked, an arched brow with a devious smile as he switched eye contact from one twin to the other.

"No," your son replied honestly, curiosity gleaming in his eyes.

With that short answer, Sukuna looked at you, a mischievous glint in his eyes before redirecting his focus on his kids once more.

"I knew that your mother would one day bear the fruit of her fertility, but there was one particular evening where I could sense an odd presence. I immediately called upon your mother, and when I was met with her physique, I could tell she was with child. It would have been unnoticeable, but my perception is unlike the average man. Looking at your mother, I could see her stomach was softer and slightly rounder, her ankles somewhat swollen, and her breasts enlarged."

You held back the bile rising in your throat as your husband explained his side of the story you knew all too well, remembering the exact events that led up to that day. His vulgar description of the event sickened you to the core.

"Your mother was unaware of her condition, but I was. The moment I felt her stomach, I could feel the presence of not one but two essences in her womb. I remember the look on her face when I told her– pure shock."

Sukuna's words offended you because pure shock was an understatement. You were undeniably mortified that day, but you would never admit that to your children. For their happiness's sake, you were willing to push the bitter memories of your pregnancy aside. They did not need to know your previous disdain for them– you had not even met them yet. What they did not know could not hurt them.

"How could you sense both of our essences?" Your daughter questioned, tilting her head as Sukuna focused his attention on her.

"Always the curious one, aren't you?" Sukuna noted, a teasing grin forming on his face.

"Mama says it is always best to stay curious because you will never learn anything new if you are too stubborn or scared to keep asking questions."

"Did she now?" Sukuna's grin grew wider as he drew his attention back to you, "And what do you believe that is a lesson of?"

"Fearlessness?" your daughter answered hesitantly.

"Close, but not quite," Sukuna started, "She is teaching you confidence."

"Is that not the same thing, Father?" your daughter questioned again.

"Not exactly, my child," The curse-user paused, looking at you for a fleeting moment before continuing, "being fearless is alright in certain circumstances– something as frivolous as a mouse is something to lack fear of, but there are certain things you should fear. Fear, my child, is what keeps you alive; however, it can be crippling at times. It is the confidence to overcome those fears that lets you survive."

"Why have you come here, Sukuna?" you suddenly asked, becoming tired and uncomfortable with his lingering presence. You knew that the man had not come for idle conversation and to share invasive stories nor explain your teachings.

Had your twins been any older, they would have caught onto your passive aggression as you addressed their father, staring at him blankly as he drew his attention to you. You were aware of the line you were crossing, aware of the hostility you were presenting in the presence of your children, despite the obliviousness of it, but with high tension in the temple and his sudden visit, you felt you had every right to feel uneased. Sukuna's gaze turned from teasing mischief into a grave look.

"Well, Y/n, I wish not to sully our bonding with grave matters," the man spoke, returning your passive-aggressive tone, "we'll speak of it later."

"So why did you come, father?" Your boy asked, looking up at the tall man.

"Must I have a reason to visit my kin?" Sukuna teased.

"Well, we do not see you much outside of lessons," your daughter jumped in with her own comment.

"Observant as well, huh?" Sukuna huffed, pausing for a moment before speaking up once more, "I was wondering if you both would accompany me on a hunt?"

That question caused their little orbs to light up, their little heads turning to you, silently begging for your approval. Looking at their pleading eyes, you could not say no, giving a nod of approval. If they were cheerful before, they were exhilarated now. These kids were to be the death of you if a simple pair of puppy dog eyes could make you cave like this, and you were okay with that.

"Can Mama come too?

Your blood ran cold at the mention of your name. There was no particular reason to be troubled, but at this point, it was a habit for these tense feelings to rise whenever your name was mentioned. So, as you look at your supposed significant other, you could feel yourself about to explain how you had other activities to attend to.

"I do not see why not."

Now, that was unexpected.

The words you were going to speak paused in your throat, swallowing them down when your little boy and girl rushed up to you after hearing Sukuna's approval, hugging you as they tugged on your hands to stand. What was he playing at? Despite the inquiry of his intentions, you had to push it aside as you saw the thrilled look on your children's faces–they most likely wanted to show off what they had learned while spending time with their father. They always returned with smiles of pride after spending time with their dad. You would give up your life to see them smile at you like that for as long as you lived, so you followed them as they walked beside Sukuna despite your own apprehension.

Time slowly passed as you trekked quietly through the nearby woods, watching Sukuna's movement as he led the three of you through the brush, pausing when something caught his eye. It took only a moment for a bow to appear in his hand, but when you had expected him to use it, he motioned over to your son, giving the child the weapon. Every motherly instinct told you to confiscate the bow, but quickly reminded yourself of your pact both in regards that Sukuna was bound to protect your children from harm and that you had accepted he could use any training methods he deemed necessary– this being one of them.

Sukuna was crouched the lowest he could get, arms hovering over your boy's form, guiding his son while speaking in a low voice as the two focused on the prey ahead. Looking into the small clearing, you could see a few grazing rabbits, clueless and defenseless to the threat before them, nibbling on the dewy grass. The bow's snap and the sight of an impaled rabbit caused you to return from your light daze, turning over to see your son smiling in excitement.

"Did you see that, Mama? I did it!" the boy beamed, maintaining a hushed voice.

You gave your son a warm smile, nodding in reassurance before watching your son switch places with your daughter. The rabbits that previously remained in the clearing had run off, but one straggler emerged from bushes, unaware of what had occurred, clueless about its impaled companion. In a mere few moments, the creature suffered the same fate as the previous one, bringing joy to your little girl. She turned to you with the same smile as her brother's– it frightened you.

You had no doubt that you loved your children for who they were. You loved their innocence, passion, and joyful nature, but a realization had dawned upon you in these moments– one that made your heart drop to your stomach.

"Mama, you try!" your daughter called out, grabbing your hand as she led you toward a better spot to shoot from, that spot closer to Sukuna.

Their reason for upbringing would be to take their father's place, to be his heir, and Sukuna was not giving that role to a charitable and naive son or daughter. Things seemed pleasant for now, and your children might keep their nature through adulthood, but one thing was for sure. Whether they stayed that way or not, they would feel justified in their actions– believe what they were doing was good because that is what their father was teaching them, and you were enabling it.

"Darling, I'm not sure that it would be wise for me-"

"I think it is a marvelous idea," Sukuna interrupted, standing from his crouched position and grabbing your waist.

You felt the man's hands slither up your body, messing with the material of your clothing before touching your flesh. Your skin burned unpleasantly as his hands settled, a faux attempt to adjust your form when you were capable; however, with your twins present, you would not dare cause a stir. Looking at the clearing, there was nothing seemingly there as all the critters that previously inhabited it ran off.

"There's nothing for me to target, so maybe we should end this," you suggested, trying to excuse yourself from this activity, keeping a low tone.

"If nothing is there, why do you whisper, Little Flower?" Sukuna responded in a hushed voice, feeling his smirk form as his face rested against your cheek.

Before you could respond, the sound of fluttering was heard. Without thought, you lifted the bow's angle, shooting the arrow into the air– a thud sounded shortly after as whatever you had shot hit the ground. Looking down, you could see a bird skewered with an arrow, blood pooling from its limp body and staining the grass surrounding it.

"Mama, you did it!" the twins exclaimed, thrilled you had participated.

Their sounds of excitement were drowned out by the ringing of your ears as your gaze lingered on the deceased animal. What had you done? Yes, you had viewed death without so much as a flinch, but you were not the one with blood on your hands. You were unaware you could perform such an action– you had never held a weapon before, only a mere kitchen knife.

It disturbed you.

How did you kill the helpless creature so instinctively? So effortlessly? The worst part is...

It felt good.

The ringing eventually subsided as the bow settled to your side, turning your head toward the two-faced man you called 'husband' and handed it to him. Thankfully, Sukuna took the item with no smug remark or wicked grin, giving you one of his infamous blank looks before moving his gaze toward the kids, motioning for them in the direction of the temple, settling one of his hands at the small of your back as you all started the walk back.

Making the hike back, you settled on your earlier realization regarding your children. You would love them until the end of time, and you had no doubt about that; whether they were inherently good or bad– you would love them. But now, as you continue to think, all you can think about is the future. Where would you and your twins be standing in the years to come? What kind of life would you three indulge in if you were all to live? How many bodies would have to pile under your feet before you were guaranteed genuine safety for you and them?

For the years under the same roof as Sukuna, you had been focusing on your mother's words, the promise you had made to her.

"I promise I will survive– longer than anyone."

Your life had been summed up by that promise. So far, you have kept faithful to it because you have been surviving. From your wedding day to your pregnancy, to the many inspections you attended, all up until now, as you approached the temple, you have been surviving. You played all the right cards to get you here and made all the right sacrifices to keep your children alive– what more could you ask for? You were alive and breathing along with your children, and that is all that truly mattered, right?

No.

You may have been playing this game of survival and have been successful thus far, but there was one thing you had failed to do...

Live, you had failed to truly live.

You have played your part in your husband's sick game. You married him, gave him your purity, gave him children, and now you were done. You were more than aware of the pact you had made with your husband, but almost every contract had a loophole whether it could be seen or not.

"We are relocating."

Your heart rate accelerated as Sukuna bent down to whisper those words into your ear, the words taking a moment to register. Was it out of fear? Anger? Possibly both? No. It was excitement. You had given your word that you would never leave the temple unless it was under Sukuna's supervision and say so. Unless he accompanied you outside those gates, you would remain here; however, you had never given your word to stay by his side.

You had given your word to stay at the temple.

The curse-user had just given your confirmation of freedom without being aware he was doing so.

"May I ask why?" you dug, trying to keep your composure to not seem suspicious, as if he could tell what you were thinking if you had shown the slightest emotion.

"I have simply grown bored of this place, plus I have got what I needed from these people, and they all stand right here before me," Sukuna explained, the last part of his statement being clear that he was referring to you and the twins.

"Where would that leave my village?"

Now, that was a genuine question. You were not as concerned for your village but rather your family instead. The four-armed beast of a man was not known for leaving a town so quietly– you had heard plenty of notorious stories from survivors to prove that.

"What of it?"

"Will it remain in one piece, or will it be returned to the dirt?"

"That entirely depends on them, Little Flower."

The answer was vague– it was neither a confirmation nor a denial, but you could understand the meaning behind his words. For the sake of your family, you hoped that the village elders would not perform anything stupid. You hoped they could shove their egos aside and let Sukuna leave the town with what minimal disturbance he was willing to make. Everything you have worked so hard to achieve would be ruined without their cooperation.

Approaching the temple, you could not help but feel the delight swell in your chest. After years of this torment, this unjustified punishment, you are finally going to be free. You have survived, and now you will live. The journey has been difficult, but now you will achieve the tranquility and normalcy you deserve. Your children will have the chance to live a standard and carefree life, unlike the competitive and tiring one they would achieve with their father.

It was finally over.

Arriving at the temple did not feel as bitter this time, watching your children running to your attendant as she greeted you all, giving a respectful bow before taking off with the children, most likely heading off to eat. It was quiet as you stood in the garden; everyone else had gone to fill their appetite– it was just you and Sukuna.

"What has you smiling so brightly, Little Flower."

You had not noticed it, but you had plastered a broad, foolish grin onto your face. Usually, your partner catching this would have brought you anxiety as you thought of the right words, but you did not feel that way– quite the opposite. You were proud that he had noticed, allowing your smile to grow wider.

"I feel like a burden has been lifted off my shoulders, and I cannot wait to leave this place."

"I am glad I could bring such relieving news and bring a smile to your face," Sukuna responded, smiling down at you before taking your chin between his fingers and bending down, "Once you put the children to sleep, come seek me out as we have much more to discuss."

You could only smile stupidly, nodding and allowing Sukuna to kiss you before heading to your children. You did not care what the two-faced monster had to share with you, but you would indulge him because this would be the last time you would ever have to.

You were free.

"Oh, hello, Y/n-sama! We were just finishing our meals. Should I fix you something as well?" your attendant offered, keeping a light-hearted tone.

The young woman had grown more confident with you over the years. The two of you had grown quite close after the birth of your children– she was the only person you full-heartedly trusted with your kids. Maybe you would take her with you in your escape; she was far too good to serve ungrateful and bitter women.

"No, thank you, I am not that hungry; however, I have grown rather tired, meaning it is time for bed."

"Awwwwww," you twins whined in unison, looking at your attendant with puppy dog eyes, hoping she could convince you, only to receive a shake of her head.

The twins stood begrudgingly, approaching your awaiting stance, giving you the same desperate eyes. You gave your own silent response as you offered a warm smile and a quick shake of your head before having them follow you down the halls. In any other scenario, you would have in, but things were different now. Your children need to be well-rested for the upcoming events. You were going to give them the life they deserved.

Arriving at their sleep quarters, you slid the door open, allowing the twins in first before following. Before closing the door, you took a peek out into the hallway to make sure no one was approaching. Once you deduced nobody was coming, you slowly and quietly slid the door shut, quick to approach your kids' bedside.

"Mama, do we have to go to bed?" your daughter whined.

"Yeah, do we really have to?" your son followed.

You could not help but lightly chuckle at their resistance to sleep. Your heart filled with warmth as you remembered sharing a similar moment with your mother. There were many occasions they reminded you of yourself, and you could not wait to see more of those similarities manifest when you leave this temple. You could not wait to give them a regular and well-deserved life.

"Yes, you both have to rest. You two need to preserve your energy for the days to come."

That statement piqued their interest, their faces perking up with intrigue.

"What is to come, Mama?" the twins sounded in unison like they did so often in these moments. Sometimes, it was almost as if they shared the same mind.

"Well, soon enough, you will get to meet your grandparents," you whispered, "you cousins, aunts, and uncles, all from Mama's side of the family."

"Really?!" the two shouted, settling down when you gestured for them to lower their voices.

"Yes, but do not tell your father, it is..." you trailed, picking your words carefully, "a surprise visit just for the three of us, and I do not want him to feel left out."

There was no doubt that you despised Sukuna in every sense of the word, but you did not wish for your children to hate him. Believe it or not, you wanted your twins to paint a good picture of their father, and whether that picture remained clean was up to Sukuna himself– you would not tarnish his name for him.

"Okay, Mama, we promise we will not tell." your son spoke for the two of them, his sibling nodding in turn as she motioned to seal her lips.

You smiled, whispering a small thank you before kissing the top of their foreheads and letting them rest. You stood quietly, blowing out the candles illuminating the room before leaving. Once you stepped foot into the hallway, you were startled to see a guard, a familiar one at that, though he had clearly aged with time.

"Y/n-sama, I have been instructed to take you to your sleeping chambers," the male spoke before swiftly turning on his heel to lead you to your room.

The man's voice was cold and almost distant as he spoke to you, but his voice was familiar. You were acquainted with most of the staff within the temple, but you could not remember where you had met him in particular, though he seemed familiar and significant. Your face contorted as your mind pondered, trying to recognize his face in your personal timeline, but nothing came to mind.

"Your wedding night," the guard spoke suddenly, noticing your expression of thought, "I held and guarded the door during your wedding night."

You thought back to your wedding day, and it suddenly hit you. The guard was the same one Sukuna had forced to watch the consummation of your marriage. You quickly grew flustered at the memory, clearing your throat before speaking.

"I recall now," you responded, your voice barely above a whisper.

"Are you happy, Y/n-sama?" another unshakable tone as he questioned you.

Why was he asking this?

"Yes, I'm happy."

You did not know what this man was playing at, but you did not want to fall into any traps, so you gave the preferred answer when this question was presented to you on many occasions.

"Even though you have suffered all these years, bearing and raising his offspring?"

"Excuse me?" you grimaced at the guard's words.

"Nothing, I am sorry, I have overstepped my boundaries. I will leave you now," the man uttered, leaving you at the doorway to your sleeping quarters.

You narrowed your eyes, staring as the male's figure grew smaller in the distance. What did he gain from that interaction? No matter– it was no longer your problem to deal with. Collecting yourself, you entered the room and immediately faced Sukuna.

"Come and close the door. We must speak of these urgent matters in private," Sukuna muttered as he blankly stared at the wall in front of him.

You did not question the man and slid the door closed, approaching him as he turned to you. Before you could speak, Sukuna placed a pair of hands on your shoulders, looking into your eyes. His gaze held no emotion you could directly name, but you could sense an urgency in his tone as he spoke to you.

"We leave tonight. The others have been informed and are gathering their belongings– I advise you to do the same."

"What?! Now?! Sukuna, what is going on that you are not telling anyone?" you urged, staring at him with wide eyes.

"Now is no time to be questioning me, Y/n. Hurry, we are leaving shortly."

"No."

The word slipped out without thought. You did not care when you left because your plans would not change, but your partner was acting strangely, and you could not help but be curious as to why. The curiosity is what led you to stand there motionless as your husband stared you down.

"Stubborn as always, I see," the curse-user muttered, "Fine, you want to know, huh? We made a pact, and I'm upholding the bargain. You told me to protect those children, right? Well, for their interest, we are leaving, so be grateful."

You stood there silently, looking into Sukana's unwavering gaze.

"What is going on?" you repeated the question.

"Your village plans to lay siege, and we are leaving to not get caught in the firing radius."

That explained the tensity and whispers among the temple. That explained the extra protection. Everything now made sense and you could not help the feeling of something rising up your throat.

Laughter.

You laughed uncontrollably, trying to cover your mouth to muffle the outburst, but to no avail. Nothing about the situation was logically funny, but you could not control yourself.

"After years of torment, they only now decide to lay siege?" you cackled, "And the best part is that Ryomen Sukuna is fleeing with his tail between his legs."

You should have seen what was to come next when you made that last statement, feeling your hair being tugged to look up at the man you had insulted. Your laugh quickly subsided, swallowing the lump in your throat as you stared into his orbs. You had crossed a line this time, but for once, you were not scared of the intimidation; however, what had shocked you was Sukuna smashing his lips against yours.

"I am the most feared man in Japan– I have no reason to be scared, at least for myself. I am doing this for us and our creation because I love you, Little Flower."

"You do not love me. You love what I can do for you, Sukuna."

"I see where our children have gotten their observance." Sukuna joked, "But you are not entirely wrong. However, that does not change the fact we are leaving right here and now so collec-"

"AHHHHHHHHHHH"

The deformed man paused mid-sentence at the high-pitched scream, storming out of the room to see the commotion. You wasted no time in following him, walking down the hall before being met with the stench of blood. Had one of the pregnant wives gone into labor? Was someone injured? Or was...

Before you could finish that last thought, you were met with the sight of a lifeless body surrounded by its own red fluid. It was disturbingly familiar, and that was because it was the body of the guard that had escorted you earlier. You were shocked at his mangled state, his face just barely beyond recognition, but before you could allow the shock to settle in, another sound of screams was heard in the opposite direction.

Without thought, you bolted in the direction the screams came from. You flew past those blank walls faster than you knew you were capable of before landing at the sight of another body surrounded by women. It was your attendant, her face frozen in fear, her body almost in the same state as the previous one. This death hit you harder than the earlier one as you covered your mouth, keeping the bile from rising up your throat.

Despite the grief and sickness you were feeling, you could only think of one thing, and that was your twins. You lingered for a second longer before running to your twin's bedroom. You had not noticed, but Sukuna trailed behind you closely as you sprinted through the temple. Your breath was running ragged, but you would be damned if you were to leave your twins behind in this gruesome mess.

You made it to the door, sliding it open and rushing in, your eyes scanning the room for your twins, but they were nowhere to be seen. Your heart hammered against her chest as you began to panic, turning to Sukuna to see that his face was once again blank as he looked into the room from the doorway. Why did he have that look on his face? It did not matter– you had to search for your children. You turned to look back into the interior room, looking up from the bedrolls to be met with the wall, and heard the sound of a scream once again, your heart dropping.

You had found your twins hanging from the wall, a message written above them that was written in their own blood.

"Bring back our daughter."

Taglist:

@littlemochi @mistalli @youngbeansprout @bbylime @bangtan-forever1479 @idktbhloley @izayas-rings @o3o-aya @pyschopotatomeme @persephonehemingway @otomaniac @meforpr3sident @alurafairy @nezuscribe @my-simp-land @zukuphilia @niya729 @spiritofstatic @bbittersw33t @kashasenpai @decaysan @honeybaegle @ygslvr @outrofenty @gojosluts7789@all4koo@hyperfixationsporfavor

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mat71201 · 2 years ago

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I AM HIM, AS HE IS ME

SUMMARY — If there is anything that is universally acknowledged to be wholly true and incontestable, it’s that Gojo Satoru loves his daughter more than anything in the world. But does she know that?

AUTHOR’S NOTE — i got into a huge argument with my father a while back and it’s been weighing on my conscience. this series is largely based on our relationship and it’s been so therapeutic to write everything out and indirectly give myself an ending i want. the series isn’t complete, if anything, it’s no where near done. i want to make sure everything is perfect before i even think about posting the first chapter. its been so long since i’ve felt this strong need to write and i forgot how much of a beautiful feeling it is. everywhere i look and everything i see gives me so much inspiration for this series. but for now, here’s a little sneak peak of my new child.

(i am him as he is me spotify playlist)

SERIES WARNINGS — major daddy issues, tbd…

TOTAL WORD COUNT — tbd…

PREVIEW —

The rhythmic buzz of the cicadas and the sweltering humidity of the summer air marked the beginning of summer and the end of… everything. Satoru could feel the material of his pants begin to stick to his legs the longer he sat on the rotting wooden bench. The train tracks before him were rusted and old; they had weathered the storm of time and had the marks to prove it. These tracks were the end. The led you to the beginning. All Satoru had to do was wait.

—

“Maybe it was because I knew she would always come back to me. Maybe I was testing her love for me. Maybe I wanted to push her away before she pushed me away.”

“That’s a lot of maybes.”

“There’s a lot of regret.”

Satoru could still feel the weight of that nostalgic love and regret in his stomach. It has buried itself so deep within him, he’s hardly sure anything would make it go away. The woman next to him looks different now; youthful, free. Satoru wants that. But does he deserve it?

I AM HIM, AS HE IS ME [MASTERLIST]

— CHAPTER ONE: “The World is a Sphere of Ice and Our Hands are Made of Fire.”

— CHAPTER TWO: “If You Had to Walk into a Room with Everyone You’d Ever Met, Who Would You Look for First?”

— CHAPTER THREE: “Do You Believe Me When I Tell You I’m Trying to be Better?”

— CHAPTER FOUR: “The Unbearable Lightness of Being.”

— CHAPTER FIVE: “Desperation Sits Heavy on my Tongue.”

— CHAPTER SIX: “Through Heaven and Earth, I Alone am the Honoured One.”

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mat71201 · 2 years ago

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ʜᴏᴡ ᴡᴇ ʙʀᴇᴀᴋ: ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ

Keep reading

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mat71201 · 2 years ago

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sincerely not. (final)

↳ gojou satoru/reader

with an arranged marriage set in place, the sacred bond is doomed with a wife who wants to make the relationship work and a husband who’s ready to ruin it all. unbeknown to him, a tragic fate already lies within the pages of his romance book.

genre. heavy angst, unrequited love, arranged marriage, modern au, 18+

tags/warnings. mentions of trauma, mentions of depression, blood

notes. last chapter everyone! donut be scared :] the angst is lesser than part 19. thank you for the overall support this series has received! please see more notes after the cut

series masterlist -> sequel

additional notes. i don’t wanna be too dramatic so i’ll try to keep it short, you guys probably have heard about this a million times whenever i answered asks, but sincerely not was supposed to be my last piece of writing on tumblr. i had such a terrible writing slump before i posted it and it came to a point where i wasn’t satisfied with all the content i’m putting out. i didn’t expect that sn would blow up, or let alone have such a loyal and supportive audience that now became the reason why i work hard every week to pump out long chapters. i sincerely can’t thank you guys enough for going through this 5-month journey with me. with more than 200k words, 20 chapters, and a community built because of this series, this is perhaps a work that i will cherish and remember for the rest of my life. thank you to each and everyone who stayed up all night reading this series, to those who always eagerly left comments and theories under every post or in my ask box, and to those who contributed amazing fanarts for this fic. from the bottom of my heart, thank you and i love you. - sincerely, saint ♡

3 YEARS LATER

“As you all know, three years ago, I lost control of this company.” Standing in front of the executives and the shareholders was Satoru Gojou in his three-piece Zegna suit. “The market cap suffered a significant decrease to eight billion less. Because of the scandals and mismanagement on my end, not only did many investors pull out, but we also lost some of our most brilliant employees who all have contributed to the company’s growth over the last twenty-five years.” With all eyes set on him, the tips of his fingers felt unusually cold, but he had to continue his talk by walking around the new faces that filled up the conference room. “I know what you’re all thinking: ‘Why is the Chairman talking about his sob story?’ After all, no one would have thought that a person like me could still save the Gojou Group from its massive decline. Many journalists even referred to it as a major corporation failure. When my company’s stock price bottomed out, many people took the chance to buy stocks dirt cheap and I was already foreseeing how long it would take for me to file for bankruptcy. I went through terrible depression, my health deteriorated, and my mind was in a dark period for a year after I got divorced, but I still did everything I could to salvage the only thing I had left. But how could I? Where do I begin? At the time, it was nothing but a hopeless and ambitious thought.”

Satoru stopped from his leisurely gait and placed a hand on top of his CFO’s shoulder. As he looked down at the blond with a grateful smile, he then proceeded to finish his speech, “To play this game or any game, you must have a good mentor. Mine was my colleague, Nanami Kento, who once told me that if my life crumbled apart after I lost my wife, I should also think about my innocent employees whose lives would be far more affected if I didn’t do anything to save the company. He was right. I couldn’t possibly mope around and watch more people suffer from the difficulties I've caused. And so, I sought his advice and worked with him to rebuild the Gojou Group from ground zero.” Satoru turned on his heel as he finally arrived at the far end of the table. “Just like Nanami, you are all here because you’ve given me another chance at reconstructing the company from the damages I had done. It was a tough three years and we’re still working to restore everything back to how it was, but I just wanna take this time to express my sincerest gratitude to each and every single one of you inside this room for inspiring me and allowing me the opportunity to rise up from the bottom. In return, I will ensure—as the Chairman of the Gojou Group—that you will all be generously rewarded for your dedication and hard work. Thank you.”

After the general shareholders meeting, Satoru was back in his office with his CFO and his secretarial staff who were seated on the couch to deal with schedules and paperwork while discussing the spontaneous speech he had just done at the meeting.

“What in the world was that?” Nanami asked, unfolding a newspaper before resting his back against the couch. “You made a speech like you were stepping down from your position.”

Satoru chose to sit at the edge of his office table as he took a sip from his coffee mug. “Why? Do you wanna be an interim CEO again?” His tone was playful, although remembering how difficult it must have been for Nanami to be in the highest executive position at such a desperate time. Back to the days when Satoru was mentally and emotionally incapable of making good business decisions, the Gojou Group and its twenty subsidiaries would have all collapsed if not for Nanami’s immediate action plans to keep the company intact as one of the nation’s largest conglomerate in terms of assets and the second largest in terms of sales.

That being said, the blond didn’t even hide his year-long exhaustion after becoming the company's major pillar of support. “Please. I’d rather retire early than have you punish me with that title ever again, interim or not.”

“Don’t say that, Nanami. We’re gonna have a really long loving relationship as Chairman and CEO-to-be, you know.” Satoru continued to tease and earned Nanami’s glare as a response, all before the former noticed his secretary who was chuckling at the sight. “I think Miwa has better time management when she’s reporting to you, anyway.”

The blue-haired girl was quick to deny. “Not true, Chairman!” said Miwa while arranging some papers on the coffee table. “I always handle my time perfectly well no matter who I’m reporting to.”

Undoubtedly. Even if he treated her like a robot sometimes, Satoru was lucky enough to have had the chance to see Miwa’s professional growth from the past three years that she had been his executive assistant. He would never in his life forget that this girl stayed by his side during the lowest period of his life. Her loyalty was what led her closer to him to the point where they grew a sibling-like connection. Although they maintained a professional superior-subordinate relationship, he was able to joke around with her while she was given the rare opportunity to speak to him informally at certain instances: one, when he needed a good scolding and two, whenever he was teasing her about Yuuta (but that was a story for another day).

“Let’s see… What if I reassign you to be Yuuta’s secretary one day?” Satoru grinned in mischief as he set the coffee mug down. “He’ll be graduating next year and I’ll appoint him as the Vice President once he returns to Japan.”

Instead of Miwa whose cheeks were suffused with a pink tint, it was Nanami who immediately reacted in surprise. “You’re really gonna train him for the position as soon as he comes back?”

“Yeah.” Satoru offered a nod before signaling his secretary to reach for the special suit she carefully hung on his rack this morning. “He looks forward to it. He’s smart, responsible, and analytical, so you won’t have a hard time mentoring him.”

The man exhaled deeply, languid as he flipped the pages of his newspaper. “Why do you always leave the job to me?”

“Because you’re the best, Nanami~! Take it as a compliment.”

“I don’t need compliments, I want a Bugatti in return,” he made a quick bargain, “a mansion in Aoyama and a one-year vacation leave to Kuantan, Malaysia with no texts, calls, and emails from you.”

Satoru was better off as a statue after hearing his CFO’s offer. “And that’s what I call a good businessman!” He gave him a well-deserved clap and turned to his secretary in haste, “Miwa, take note. This kind of brazenness is something I wanna see from you.”

The girl simply laughed at the good-humored exchange between Nanami and Satoru while she held the expensive suit in front of the latter. As if she had read his mind, Miwa suddenly asked, “Are you really going to… do that today, sir?”

It would be nice to blame the air conditioner for the sudden thickness in air density. Not even ten seconds had passed and the mood swiftly changed into something more sullen, more gloomy. As Gojou took off his Zegna coat and unfastened his cufflinks, his gaze fell down on the visible scar on his forearm. Once a deep gash that required multiple stitches, now a reminder of that cold December night where blood and glass shards surrounded him as he sobbed his heart out in his mother’s arms.

He could ask Miwa’s questions to himself and only one answer would come out each time. “I have to.”

“Want me to go with you?” offered Nanami out of genuine concern. “I can reschedule my meeting with the finance department.”

Satoru, despite being genuinely appreciative of their concern, did not muster enough courage for the past two months anticipating this day just to back out at the last minute. “No, I got it.” That was all he had to tell Nanami and Miwa before he changed into the classic Givenchy tuxedo that was gifted to him three years ago. “Take care of everyone here while I’m gone.”

Gojou could barely remember what the atmosphere was like on his own wedding day. Because it was rushed and planned by everyone else except the bride and groom themselves, he didn’t have a great archive of memories relating to that special day that ultimately changed his life. Frankly, he was fairly busy with the company back then so he didn’t have much time to participate with the whole wedding preparation, leaving the designers and wedding planners to be the ones who visited him in the office just to remind him that he was going to become a married man. His distaste towards the forced marriage doubled his anger towards an innocent bride that later became a vital part of his life.

Many people asked him this: would Gojou consider marrying again? His answer would depend on the person. The answer, among many options, was only one particular woman with a selfless heart and an altruistic soul. Satoru couldn’t think of getting married to anyone else other than his soulmate whom he had promised a wedding back to when they were six year-olds. His childhood friend who had spent his birthdays with him just before they grew apart. His other half whom he had shared the most memories with from then and now. The lover, the wife, the mother of his child.

His one and only.

In an alternate universe, he had the option to restart his life back from where it all began. On the wedding day, where white primroses adorned the trellises, where satin linens complemented the dome of cloudless skies, where elaborate details and enchanting décor ignored the idea of ‘less is more’. But no matter how grandiose the setup was—whether it was whimsical or glamorous or traditional, in his previous life, he had forgotten the true essence of his own wedding—it was being united with his partner in life.

Beyond everything, marriage was a sacred bond between a husband and his wife.

The reminiscence of being surrounded by wedding decorations was déjà vu for Satoru who had not paid the slightest bit of attention to it three years ago. Or did he? Because with the way he recalled the tiniest details of his first wedding, it looked like he did pay a significant amount of recognition to the special day as much as he initially thought. The redolence of jasmine added to his nostalgia as he continued to walk like a ghost along the pathway where the wedding planners were passing left and right. They were oblivious to the man with white hair in a black tuxedo, concealed by a face mask while keeping himself unseen by blending amongst the low number of guests who had just arrived. The French baroque cathedral boasted of timeless elegance and one look at the ceiling gave him a breathtaking view of the magnificent Rococo art. Didn’t he get married in a garden? The decorations were either just black, ivory, and champagne not apricot and periwinkle blue. Right, Gojou remembered. Every stark difference was screaming to be remembered. The color palette, the theme, the flowers, and even the venue.

This wasn’t an alternate universe nor was this his own wedding.

This simple and yet sophisticated church wedding was his Earth-shattering reality to serve as a reminder that the tragedy was in his romance book, not yours.

With over seven billion people around the world, he was granted to be with only one person that had been his supposed life-long partner. Unfortunately, life could no longer offer him a rewind after everything that had happened. He didn’t have a free pass to travel back through time and rewrite his past. Just like the ugly scars on his forearm, some things just never fade. What he had for himself was the future—the chance to be a better man without the expectations from a yearned woman. A closure, not to accept his defeat, but more so to prove his eternal love.

Not many guests were familiar to him except for your cousins and the groom’s immediate family. The wedding in itself was an intimate setup, seemingly only for those who were dear to the wedded couple-to-be. It was a great contrast to your first glamorous wedding where almost every famous personality was invited amongst the swarm of influential businessmen. In this wedding, attention was not being waved at his face because the primary focus was the ceremony that would soon unify a man and a woman as one.

He wasn’t even invited, so why the hell was Satoru Gojou in here?

Thankfully, no one had really noticed him as he managed to escape from any unwanted attention by sneaking close to the walls until he finally reached one of the exits that headed towards the back. There was a pavilion just a couple of steps away from the church where they kept the bride before the actual ceremony would begin. Needless to say, Satoru’s blood had drained from his face as soon as one of the notable bridesmaids walked out of the door.

“Ieiri.” Gojou took off his face mask and noticed how his voice had become unstable. “Where’s she—”

“Inside,” replied Shoko, pointing towards the room. “She’s with her friend, but it should be fine. Gen went to see their father. Did anyone see you?”

“No, I don’t think so.” His heart was pounding on his chest. His head, pulsating. Air was luxury for him to breathe at this moment when he thought of the man he would become once his eyes were set on you again three years after you left.

Ieiri must have felt his temperature rising (or falling in that sense) because cold sweats started forming on his temples, but not until she snapped her fingers in front of his face to wake him up from his trance. “Hey, it’s okay.” A couple pats on the back lessened Gojou’s tension. “You can do it. This is your last chance.”

They said during moments of panic, it was normal for a person to feel numb. Everything was in slow motion and very few sounds were picked up by the ears as all the unnecessary hubbub would be blocked out. While he tried to reach for the doorknob, Satoru’s hand was visibly shaking due the accumulation of anxiety that he never realized had built up upon coming here. His nerves were like seismic waves forming ripples on a pond. What was he scared of? He had gone through so much alone for the last three years, but even so, this day might be the summit of his pain. It would mark as the highest point in his mountain of broken heart and eternal loneliness.

It was different in his head than when he actually opened the door and stepped inside the room. A girl with dark hair in a half-updo was smiling at you from the mirror as you two were unaware of the new presence that had entered the room. Even from afar, even when he could only see your side profile, Gojou had already fallen weak on the knees. A wave of strong emotions washed over his body as he saw the very woman that he loved and still undeniably did.

“…Y/N.”

When had he last called you by your name?

To him, the name that rolled off his tongue had also sparked a flame to his heart. To you, on the other hand, the voice that called it out was nothing more than a stranger from the past that you wanted so badly to erase. He could see it in your eyes with how they widened in shock, leaning on the negative scale more than the positive as you hastily got up from your seat. “W-What are you doing here?”

The girl who stood by your side kept a guarded stance while she mumbled, “Y/N, should I call for Toji?”

“No need.” Satoru blinked thrice in the same second and shook his head. “He knows I’m here. He…” trailing off, he drew in a deep breath, “He told me to see you before the ceremony.”

It happened a week ago when Gojou found out you came back to Tokyo after three long years. He heard rumors about you dating Toji, but he never really thought that your bond was deep enough to lead to another marital union. Wasn’t it such a cruel fate? Someone who was once his bride, was now someone else’s.

As hard as it was for Satoru to swallow, he knew that Toji Zen’in must love you a lot and he wasn’t even surprised that you ended up with his rival after all the things that had happened. Not many guys would allow an ex-husband a chance to meet his bride on the wedding day just for the sake of closure. But you see, your groom respected you and trusted you and cared for you enough to understand that this was something you and Satoru had to have. A private moment to conclude the relationship that scarred both you and him, which could possibly cause complications in any of your future marriages if not resolved. There was no harm in having this much needed conversation, especially since three years had gone by and you were close to strangers at this point. Or at least, he was to you. Any feelings you once harbored for him were completely gone like how the same gleam in your eyes that used to shine for him was now empty.

You must have realized that fearing Satoru Gojou would not help you in the long run, so you ended up allowing him inside before you turned to your friend. “Akemi,” you spoke to her calmly, “can you excuse us for a while?”

From the corner of his eyes, Satoru noticed how the woman with the gentle face glanced at his way before she decided to trust your words and subsequently made her exit. With the door shut in a 33-square meter room, it didn't seem as if the distance between you and him was there. Not when he had become too enamored of your ethereal beauty to a point where he couldn’t breathe.

And he had to swallow. Hard. Because you were so goddamn beautiful that his eyes were filling up with tears. Are you real? The pain he felt sure was. Are you really in front of him? He scanned every inch of your face and remembered how he used to wake up staring at those eyes each morning, how he used to touch those cheeks, how he used to kiss those very lips. He never had the chance to appreciate you back on your own wedding day and his greatest regret in life was not telling you how breathtakingly regal you looked in a wedding dress. Forget the swarovski crystals that hugged your figure or the natural make-up that enhanced your features—Satoru believed that no other woman could beat your grace and elegance in his eyes even if you were wearing a simple white dress with a bare face.

You aged three years older after you last saw each other, but the most fascinating part of it was seeing you in the best version of yourself. Not a trace of heartbreak. Not a hint of loneliness. There was that certain class and maturity that made him fall in love with you all over again.

“You look beautiful,” he meant to say it aloud despite the clench it caused his heart because he had to let you know no matter how shameless. “I know I never got to tell you this before, but… this, this is also how beautiful you looked on our wedding day.”

You watched him take a deep breath as if he was the rightful groom who was star-struck at the sight of his bride. “You never even looked at me on our wedding day.”

“I did, I know I did…” He stared at you in pining melancholy. Did Gojou imagine having this casual talk with an ex-lover? He was afraid that this might be the calm before the storm. “I’m sorry for bringing it up. I-I don’t intend to stay throughout the ceremony today.”

“So, what are you here for?”

“…”

“Satoru.”

“I just think that, maybe…”

With a distant gaze, your impatience led you to go straight to the point. “We’ve been divorced longer than we have married, Gojou.” But what hurt more was the way you avoided meeting his eyes. “If you have nothing important to talk about, save it. If you’re here to congratulate me, thanks. I hope you find someone else to marry, too—”

“Why did you let go?”

The sudden question rendered you speechless, so much that you almost sympathized from the guilt and agony that casted your ex-husband’s face. Satoru had been suffering for three long years thinking of the picture perfect family that he had lost and all of those unwanted memories during his darkest days were now swallowing him in whole. They were burying him six feet under and pulling him back into that abyss of torment that he thought he had already escaped. It was endless, bottomless, complete darkness.

But even with the obvious pain in his visage, you couldn’t find the right words to answer. He had to be the one to clarify it further. “Our baby,” his voice broke and his words took him back to that sorrowful day at the hospital, “I wanna know why you let go. I-I don’t understand why you did it.”

“You know why.” Tears were threatening to spill from your shiny eyes. “Don’t bring it back. I don’t wanna talk about it right now.”

It hurt. It hurt so much that he wanted to hug you, but couldn’t. That he wanted to wipe your cheeks, but couldn’t. That he wanted to kiss your forehead, pull you into his arms, hold you close. It hurt how much he longed for you day and night for the past 1,095 days, hoping that you would come back to him and be his wife again. How foolish. This woman in front of him wasn’t the same one he married for that woman had given up on him, but him—he never once gave up on you. He kept holding on like you were the last buoy keeping him afloat in the vast sea. “I messaged y-you nonstop.” His breathing hitched as a sob rose in his throat. “I sent you hundreds of voice mails even if you had me blocked everywhere. I followed you to New York and tried to search every corner of it for you, b-but I was told to leave you alone. In the end, I had to leave you alone and give you space, because I didn’t want you to hate me more than you already do. Do you know how it feels to be… to be abandoned by someone you love, and three years later that person comes back only to marry someone else?”

Out of the many things Gojou learned from his therapist: you can never suppress sadness. It always managed to seep out and the best way to handle it was to release such a heavy emotion out of the bottle. His face was already a screaming sign of Fragile: Handle With Care. But if anyone were to break him, the privilege was yours.

“Satoru, we never should have married in the first place,” you argued, eyes glistening with similar blues as you looked up at him, “We were doomed from the beginning because that marriage was never genuine. Stop holding on to me like I’m more than just a key to your personal goals.”

“Y/N, I love you…” At this point, he couldn’t stop the waterfall that gushed out of his eyes, emptying his sockets until he could no longer cry. His voice was thick with tears, his words were strangled in his throat. “I love you, I cherish you. I still do. I still fucking do and I’m so miserable without you. Don’t say that I was never genuine when I truthfully fell in love with you.”

You refused his words and swallowed the pity forming at the back of your throat. “No, you fell in love with the idea of me. You fell in love with the idea of having your own happy family regardless of the person you wanted to share it with.”

Satoru attempted to reach for your arm, but felt wrong for having tried because his cold hand didn’t deserve to touch your sacred warmth. “That’s not true.”

“I’m not your wife anymore.” Your reminder served numerous stabs in his hollow heart. “Gojou, you need to move on and live your life without me. You’re young, you’re single, you can easily go back to the way you were before you were ever married. You can even forget our marriage happened. Just please… Please find your happiness elsewhere.”

“I don’t… I don’t wanna forget.”

He came here promising himself that he was only going to apologize and clarify his intentions, it was never part of his plan to be a sobbing mess in front of you while begging for the love he had taken for granted. He wanted his wife back. He wanted Y/N Gojou to accept him again and give him another chance to be a better husband. But that was not the agreement he had with Toji when he allowed him to have this talk with you. Gojou had to remind himself not to steer away from his original path and respect the boundaries that were set in order to live a guiltless life. He ought not to be selfish, but more selfless because that was something he learned from you.

And in saying that, his only option for you to achieve your peace and true felicity was to let you go. Like setting a dove free from a bird cage, spreading its wings into open air before flying away—you had to have that freedom without a pathetic ex-husband clinging on to you. All he ever brought you was misery and heartache, so the best way to repent for his sins was to cut the thin string that kept you tied to him.

“Do you love him?” he asked once and for all, even though it shattered him inside, even though it squeezed his heart and every artery. Layers of unsettling emotions overcame him as the thought of you marrying someone else, having a family with someone else, doing the things you did with him to someone else—absolutely, agonizingly wrecked him. “Will you be happy if you married him?”

Along with your modestly downcast eyes, you took the chance to dodge the direction of his desolate gaze. “Probably so much more than when I married you.”

Who knew that an honest answer could make one’s world crumble into ashes?

In every sad song, sad movie, or sad novel there was, Gojou believed that his tragedy could sell billions of copies because there was nothing more satisfying than reading a story about how the man who once had it all, in the end lost it all.

As for you, your immediate thought was to turn away, searching through your jewelry box on the table before taking out the very last piece that connected you to him.

Your wedding ring.

The same ring he was still wearing to this day.

“Satoru, I loved you.” Your words flew past your mulberry lips as you reached for his hand. Throughout your marriage, it was for the first time he ever heard you say those three words. Three words that were now in the past just like the ring that you placed on his palm. “If you ever wanted to hear it, I did love you. I loved you so much that I stayed that long because I wanted us to work. I love you enough that I want you to be happy, even if we’re no longer together.” Gojou’s eyes were the loneliest shade of blue as he felt your thumb running across his cheek. “For the eleven months and twenty-two days we were married, all I did was to try and fix you. Now let me fix me.”

Didn’t you know? When you were in love, your voice was always the calmest. Your eyes, the dreamiest. Your face, the softest. It was a slapping contrast to the loom of darkness that swept over your ex-husband’s face—the man you once loved and was bound to by vows. But if his sorrow meant that you would find your joy, then he was ready to have his heart broken over and over again by the one person he loved the most. You.

Words needn’t be said. He accepted the ring you returned with a great wretch of sadness, keeping it safe in his own hand like he was holding onto a person in the form of a gold wedding band. In an hour or so, another ring would adorn your finger and it would be much more beautiful than the one you previously had from an ex-husband that you easily forgot about.

Your love story ended here.

On the first day of spring, where flowers bloom to signal the start of your new beginning. The radiant woman he loved the most would start a new chapter in life with someone else. And unlike you, Satoru was stuck in his cold, winter sorrows. There were no four seasons in his calendar for his days remained in the coldest months of the year because his source of sunlight found another world to shine on.

“I have to go.” The soles of his feet wanted to stay, but he couldn’t linger around any longer than he should’ve. What last words would he have to say to his ex-wife? ‘Have a happy marriage’? When that, in fact, was a form of self-punishment. But on a similar note, he felt the longing in your eyes and it allowed him to wish for nothing but the best for you. “I know he’s gonna take care of you, but… just in case,” he trailed off, forcing an upward curve on his lips, “I hope he kisses you every morning when he wakes up.”

“Satoru…”

His words were surprisingly cathartic. “I hope he’ll call you beautiful each day, stroke your hair when you lie on his lap, take you out on movie nights and spontaneous dates.” To make it more lighthearted and less dramatic, he added a few happy memories. “I hope he won’t drink straight off the milk carton or forget to turn the lampshade off at night. You deserve to be with someone who lets you spend pink toilet papers and expensive skin care masks on his credit card. Someone who stares at you in your sleep, thanking God for blessing him with a wife like you.”

Your lips quivered, eyes achingly staring at his.

Gojou ignored the weakness gnawing his chest and offered a smile that may have a million meanings, but truly only translated to one: I’m happy when you are. And so, he tucked a piece of hair behind your ear and leaned in to plant a kiss on your forehead. It was a harmless, unassuming kiss to let you know that he would always care for you the same. “I love you.”

Hesitance then bathed your eyes as he pulled away. Was that guilt in your gaze? Or was it pity? Either way, you squeezed his hand and opened your mouth reluctantly. “Wait, I… There’s something you need to know.”

At the rate of your growing anxiety, Satoru decided for himself that today was not the day for you to deal with it. He may have been selfish all his life, but he didn’t want to ruin your wedding for his sake. With the Zen’ins was where you belong. After all, they were a family void of drama or any ulterior motives that could break your trust in the long run. That was the household you deserved to be in.

“Will I be crying on my knees if I did know?”

You held your breath. “Maybe.”

“Will it fix us?”

“I don’t think so.”

Knowing a disappointing truth was better than wondering forever. But in that moment where palpable silence became one of his biggest fears, he decided that the less he knew, the better. “It’s okay. You don’t have to say it,” he assured, backing away and learning the art of letting go, “I should head out.”

“…Okay.”

His cue to leave was your sudden sympathetic gaze. His signal to turn around and step out of the room was the fact that he despised seeing sympathy in your eyes because it made him yearn and seek for your love. He didn’t need your sympathy, he needed you. It was a dangerous zone that he ought to avoid or else there was no going back.

The only way was forward.

Walking through the hallways alone gave him a newfound sense of catharsis. Although the other half of his soul remained with you, lovers didn’t necessarily have to be soulmates. They came in different shapes and forms, be it with a childhood friend, a past lover, an ex-wife. He was content for not sticking to his brand of selfishness which cost him a wife and a child in return.

Fate must be playing with him, because just as he turned to the corner of the hallway, he stumbled upon a little boy with white hair who was hiding his face against the wall.

Could it be…?

Stopping in his tracks, his eyes widened and brimmed with tears. He must be imagining this whole thing. He must be hallucinating. Why did his chest hurt this badly? Why did the atmosphere suddenly make him feel queasy? He felt sick to the bones after remembering the depressive episodes he went through because of his unborn child. The pain he suffered from his loss was more than a person could take. And now, this…

“‘Gumi!” The giggling kid ran past Satoru to meet Toji’s teenage son who immediately carried the little boy in his arms.

“There you are,” Megumi spoke to the child with a rare smile on his face, “You’re not supposed to show yourself when you play hide and seek.”

Satoru’s heartbeat quickened exponentially. His pulse was thumping with a heavy beat. It wasn’t until Megumi saw his figure down the hallway when the dark-haired boy became nonplussed. He knew what the older guy was thinking, and he didn’t seem to know how to react to it.

The little boy with similar white hair was facing away, so Gojou was yet to see if the kid looked like a splitting image of him to confirm his questions. He was already shell shocked and he would probably break down had he learned that the child was indeed his.

But seemingly hearing Satoru’s trail of thought, Megumi took the chance to keep the little boy away. “Come on, let’s go see your mom.”

“Mama?” The kid turned around, noticing Satoru’s presence as the person who carried him walked further and further away. Each growing distance did not do anything to melt the block of ice he had become. Frozen as he stood there, eyes wide at the sight of the child with white hair and baby blue eyes.

This couldn’t be real.

At the beginning of spring, the sky was crying and so was he. You were moving into new spheres, but this heart of his could love so infinitely that everything becomes muted. His heart could love so blindly that everything you do merited its forgiveness. It was unimaginable for anyone who actually cared to understand the gravity that had fallen on Satoru as he rushed into the parking lot. In a daze, lost in his own thoughts while putting the missing puzzle pieces together.

Three years in New York City.

Had he been deprived of a child that he believed hadn’t been born at all?

He was searching through his many antidepressants in the glove compartment of his car. Satoru had been so full of anxiety for this day that he missed taking a couple of pills that he strictly had to take to aid his severe depressive episodes—one of which was about to happen in a few. That child of his could have been a hallucination after all. His mind liked to play tricks on him ever since his mental state went on a downward slope. It wasn’t your fault nor anyone else’s.

It was his.

The onus was always on him. The blame, the criticism, the hatred even to himself. While the wedding was on going, Satoru was in his car crying silently to himself with his head on the steering wheel as his saddest thoughts haunted him. He could easily walk out of the car, crash your wedding, and perhaps confirm if that child was not just a fragment of his imagination.

But what scared him the most was getting a confirmation that you did hide his child for three years without telling him. Why did that scare him, you wonder? Because it meant that he would have to hate you again. It meant that he had to feel strong hostility towards you, when that feeling was the last thing he ever wanted to feel for his own wife.

During his lowest moments, the person he ran to was also the person who once ran away from him. You weren’t aware, but his mom never once left his side at times where the world felt hopeless. Or when breathing felt like luxury than a need. Or when simply existing felt like an undeserved privilege. She stayed and nurtured him to make sure that he wasn’t alone as much as he believed. It was her duty as a mother to care for her child. The only person who truly understood his never-ending pain.

“Mom.” One minute he was crying soundlessly in his car, the next he was on his phone choking a sob. “Mom, I-I can’t do this alone.”

“Satoru? What’s wrong, honey?” Worry laced her voice on the other end of the line. “Where are you?”

His chest rose and fell heavily. “I w-wanna wake up from this nightmare. I wanna wake up next to her.”

“Where are you?” His mother repeated her question with her anxiety increasing tenfold. It was one of ‘those days’. Those terrible, dark days where the other side was whispering in her son’s ear, tempting him to escape this world in his own hands. “Did you go to her wedding? My son…”

Gojou released a sigh, but it sounded more like a plea for help. His eyes were bloodshot and forlorn as he stared at the ceiling of his car. “I saw her and she looked beautiful. Sh-She’s happier, she’s… she’s… Mom, I love her.”

“I’m coming to pick you up.” He could tell his mother was tearing up. “Stay where you are, Satoru. I’ll be there as soon as I can—”

“We have a child,” he spilled out of the blue and the way it flew past his lips only brought a burning ache in his chest. “Our son, he looks j-just like me.” He pictured it all out in his head—how his son would look sleeping in your arms, how his son would run towards his stepfather each time he came home, how his son would look at Satoru Gojou without recognizing him as the father who anticipated his birth with such excitement five months into your pregnancy. “I have a son and he doesn’t know me.”

Deafening silence took over his mother, though it didn’t last long until she spoke in a careful voice. “What are you planning to do right now?”

There was no handbook on what to do after finding out that your ex-wife faked her abortion all along. He wanted to be angry, he wanted to yell the nastiest profanities for the absolute fool he was seen as, and yet everything he would do would just be futile at this point. He was already having difficulty in processing the idea of your marriage with someone else, much less a child with you. Instead of fighting for the family he lost, he felt like he would actually just lose a hundred battles more.

He had to think. Think, away from this place, away from the wedding that was happening inside the cathedral. He needed to clear his mind and figure it all out on his own. For one, was he supposed to pretend that nothing happened? Were you supposed to hide the child from him forever? Were you going to let another man be a father figure to a child who looked exactly like the husband you escaped from?

In a minute, Satoru revved his engine and accelerated the car past forty. He hit sixty when he drove through the street, then he hit a hundred when he reached the freeway. He tightened his grip on the steering wheel and drove with blithe disregard for the rules of the road as tears blurred his vision. But maybe, instead of finding a way on how his presence could contribute properly to an ex-wife and a long lost child, he had to choose the easier option—to disappear. Because for all its worth, he wasn’t needed anymore. You managed three years without him, and you could manage fifty more years without him.

His little boy could continue his life not recognizing his shameless father who cheated on his mother, neglected her, ruined her. He was a bad influence and that was solid proof that Satoru could have never been a great dad as much as he liked to believe.

Though, for one reason, you were wrong. As he stomped his foot on the gas pedal, he remembered your words from earlier, ‘you fell in love with the idea of having your own happy family regardless of the person you wanted to share it with’. He didn’t want that family with anyone else but you. That mansion he purchased wasn’t meant for Sera, but for a home he pictured out with a woman he would marry and have dozens of children with. He wasn’t given a chance at explaining himself nor was his voice heard when he tried to beg for forgiveness. You didn’t owe him one, but it broke him to know that because of that miscommunication, your love couldn’t be fulfilled in this lifetime.

This was a world where he was and would always be alone.

Reaching for his pocket, he took out the ring you returned to him and placed it between his fingers, reminding himself of a piece of you that he could still hold onto.

Other than the ring, he also had memories of both good and bad. The wedding day, Iceland, the auction, the morning after his father’s birthday, Bora Bora, Nana’s death, finding out you were pregnant, knowing you had stable angina, that sunset in the yacht, Eula going to jail, him losing everything including you. If any author decided to write about him one day, Satoru hoped that people could learn from his tragedy and value their marriage before it was too late.

Wasn’t it pathetic how he barely remembered everything he had done for the past three years except for those moments with you?

His phone rang wildly from the cup holder as his mom ceaselessly called him. But before he could manage to reach for the gadget, he failed to hit the brakes when the traffic lights turned red. Another blinding light greeted him in slow motion—he realized that the lights were from another car. A much bigger vehicle was speeding towards him when the corner of his eyes saw it from a split second and it was all too late when he tried to steer himself away given the car’s screeching sound, the cacophony of horns echoing left and right, and the tires skidding on the pavement. The collision happened faster than his mind could take. Although his ears picked up the sound of a glass shattering, his eyes didn’t capture the sight of the vehicle that led him to a fatal crash.

There was no deus ex machina to save him from the accident and neither were there flashbacks of his life from childhood until now. There was only darkness that pulled him in and embraced his soul into that empty, inescapable void.

On your second wedding, you expected that things would be easier this time around.

It took you three years to rebuild yourself to be the strong, independent woman that you were now. The process was a difficult path and you could admit that many times, you wished that you didn’t have to go through all of it alone. Being a single mother and studying fashion at the same time was a tough journey, but also the best decision you had made in your life. You learned how to love yourself, along with your son who grew up to be a very sweet kid, while understanding what your real worth should be in a society where being a divorcée at age twenty-eight was considerably acceptable.

You had your father and Gen’s support while raising your son in a country minus the spotlight from the media that could have caused you more stress three years ago. You hoped Satoru could understand. You just wanted to raise your baby in an environment without all the negative energy that surrounded him and your past marriage. So even if he would end up hating you now, you only ever wanted to prioritize your child. Your decision not to tell him was because you no longer had any connections as husband and wife soon as you divorced. Keeping the baby back then could mean that it would be harder for Satoru to let go, so despite having heard his heartbreaking screams that day in the hospital, you had to act on the advice that your father and sister gave you which was to finally put an end to your arranged marriage.

Besides, you were still blessed with a respectable man who had been there for you through thick and thin. A man you would soon lock eyes with once the towering doors by the vestibule was finally opened.

But at the thought of marriage, you suddenly remembered your first husband. You were foolishly thinking of Satoru Gojou at a wedding with a different man. Your trembling fingers matched the increased pace in your heart, just as much as how you blinked through the sting in your eyes. You realized that you were blinking tears until the wooden doors swung open to welcome you into another marital union that once put you through hell.

There they were, awaiting for you to walk down the aisle in your glamorous bejeweled gown. You saw your small audience of families and friends smiling at you as they eyed you with admiration. You saw Toji Zen’in at the far end of the aisle, handsome and perfect in his classic tuxedo while anticipating his status as a married-to-be.

With all eyes on you, you slowly made your way across the aisle, but each step was suffocating. The thought of going through marriage—hoping that it would be perfect only to be crushed by reality in the end—scared you. You didn’t realize that you had developed trauma with weddings all because of a certain white-haired male who altered your vision of what marriages were supposed to be.

Three steps.

Could you really do this again? Could you become someone’s wife and be locked under the vows of marriage for better and for worse?

Two steps.

Could you really offer yourself with wholehearted devotion towards a man who could end up ruining your trust once more?

One step.

The loud thumping of your heart was the answer: maybe you could. For Toji. For the love you deserved. For the marriage you always dreamed of.

But although you concluded with that answer, your hand lost grip on the flower bouquet as you saw another future as a wife back to square one.

“Call the ambulance! 911! Somebody help!”

“Sir, please stay with me.”

The light came back to him while he was sandwiched between the cold dirt and the hot metal of the car. The heavy weight of the vehicle was pressing down on him and keeping him paralyzed amongst the broken shards of glass. No voice escaped his hoarse throat, but he could feel blood dripping on the side of his head where a throbbing sensation had just started to grow.

Yet all in all, he was numb.

He couldn’t move his hand, couldn’t see beyond the confines of his car, couldn’t breathe more oxygen that his lungs needed—all his mind could process was the thought of you. Right when the shiny gold ring was within arm’s reach on the concrete floor, Satoru lifted his broken arm up just to hold onto that one piece of memory he had of you.

He wasn’t certain if he was only waiting for death or something much worse, but at the rate of the excruciating pain that his brain was giving him, he knew one way or another that he would lose a part of himself from hereafter.

But he hoped to every saint that he wouldn’t lose that part of him that loved you.

That Satoru who first fell in love with you at the age of six, got married to you at the age of twenty-five, and still loved you at the age of twenty-eight was the version of him that he wished not to lose.

He was an antagonist in his own tragic story and was merely a plot device to set up conflicts, obstacles, and challenges for the protagonist. Although in most fairytales, the main characters were granted a happily ever after, you and him were given an inevitable twist of fate.

Perhaps this was the end. Or perhaps it wasn’t.

Sometimes the end wasn’t really the end.

After all, this was a universe where he was a character with unmistakable flaws that could not be redeemed. While that may be true, he hoped that you wouldn’t forget that at a certain point in time, he was truthfully, unselfishly in love with you.

That in this universe and in all other parallel universes, he was and would always be sincerely yours.

jjk general taglist: @kity @deeznutss @suhkusa @wonyoschubs @the-golden-jhope @6mattsun9 @hokageyamz @ermahgerd-larry-and-ziam @crashica @aizawap @juniorhooter @atsumusoup @gxtitobxby @dora-the-grownup @softy-woo @tsumume @kac-chowsballs @anime-nymph @kageyamakock @onlyonew @underratedmage @crapimahuman @alicia-1725 @fatal-impact

sincerely not taglist: @itsnotsoni @pluviophilefangirl @daphnxy @choso-bee @omisemi @captainchrisstan @http-strawbebbies @xllance @jonsncws @and-you-found-me @tobiotetsu @jeonjungkookismyfuture @d-efend @honouredsatoru @my-reality-is-in-my-head @blueowl51 @misslovingpearl @cuteissei @japanesevenom @borpcorp @ushi-bakatoshi

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mat71201 · 2 years ago

Text

water’s edge | concept dump

₊˚.༄ crown prince!gojo satoru x f!reader | setting: modern royal au

₊˚.༄ warnings: mean!gojo (but that’s not even the worst of it oh my god what monstrosity have i created), arranged marriage, illness, allusions to criminal activity that may include reckless homicide, physical battery and attempted murder. mentions of depression, cheating, physical and emotional abuse, trauma, adultery. fictional depiction of the japanese imperial family, etc.

₊˚.༄ Crown Prince!Gojo who is the only son of the emperor and empress of Japan, the beloved and long-awaited child of his parents. As a child, he had been showered with endless praise and veneration as the one, true, legitimate heir to the chrysanthemum throne. The entire imperial household had expected the prince to inherit an unwavering sense of duty to the crown and to his people much like his fore-bearers, only to be severely disappointed when the prince turns out to be a pathological card shark with ambiguous morals, and a serial womanizer who has slept with countless women from aristocratic backgrounds during the height of his bachelor years.

₊˚.༄ Crown Prince!Gojo who finally incurs his father’s wrath after a nasty bar brawl that leads to him getting unceremoniously arrested and is stripped of his title and properties as crown prince, favoring his half-brother, Prince Suguru Geto, who had been born of the emperor’s affair with one of the empress’s ladies-in-waiting. This incident has prompted his mother, the empress, to help in ratifying his public image by arranging Satoru to marry a commoner with an impeccable standing in Japanese society in a bid to re-portray Satoru as a responsible, married man. The empress, in turn, offers to grant you, Satoru’s future wife-to-be, anything your heart could ever desire.

₊˚.༄ Crown Prince!Gojo who engages in a pantomime act of being a loving husband to you during a state banquet by showering you with endless praise in his speech addressed to all the world leaders in the Akasaka Palace’s reception hall. When he was asked to introduce you, his new wife, the honeyed words came so easily to him. “You see, the princess (Y/N) is no ordinary woman,” he chuckles into the microphone causing the guests to giggle at the sight of what looks to be a bashful newlywed.

“Other than being the first breath of fresh air our family has ever had the pleasure of knowing in so long, and the most active member in our family when it comes to supporting the many royal charities and foundations, she is…” he trails off. You dared to follow the wandering gaze of your husband, who seems to be searching for another pair of eyes in the room. His eyes eventually stop their search, softening at the sight of the one he loved. For a second, you think he is looking at you, and your heart naively skips a beat in your chest as if all these months of inattention and animosity were finally coming to an end.

“…My better half, the keeper of my own heart.”

Many of the ambassador’s wives who sat beside you nudged you in congratulations for being so blessed with such a devoted husband. You crane your head back to smile warmly at them for the kind words only to have ice coat your veins instantly when you see his Chief-of-Staff, Himiko Zenin, sitting about two seats behind you, staring directly at your husband with a wistful look in her eyes, exchanging words of love in a silent oath — one that is far more certain than the rising and the setting of the sun as each day passes with your husband hating you a tad bit more than yesterday, and one that is far more truthful than the wedding vows you shared.

Of course, writing this godforsaken death march-like speech was easy for Satoru, simply because these words of devotion and love were never intended for you anyway; this poetic spiel was written with another woman ensnaring his mind.

₊˚.༄ Crown Prince!Gojo who sneaks out of bed during your wedding night, sparing one last cold glance at your sleeping form before he saunters out the imperial villa to meet his girlfriend in a nearby mountain resort, about half a mile away from the villa. His personal chauffeur had been sworn to secrecy, else, he would incur the wrath of the crown prince.

“I thought you couldn’t get away,” Himiko moans wantonly into his mouth as he roughly takes her from behind, the lewd wet sounds of their lovemaking echoing through the room. He had taken the liberty of secretly bringing Himiko along to your honeymoon, by booking the most expensive suite in the resort for her under another name.

“The bitch is too fucked out to even notice I’m gone— mmph—“ he throws his head back, releasing a pleasured groan when Himiko meets his sharp thrusts, grinding teasingly on his cock as she does so. He grips her hips tightly, readjusting his hips to pound into her from another angle, the muscles on his abs tightening as he gets lost in the feeling of her tight, luscious walls. “Sh-shit, ‘m-m gonna cum—“

“—Ah! S-Satoru,” she was close too, her eyes rolling to the back of her head as the fat tip of his member roughly prods at her cervix.

He half-expected Himiko to be angry with him for engaging in intimate acts with you, but she simply acts like she didn’t hear him. And even if she was upset, why should he, of all people, apologize? She should have known that becoming his mistress entailed having to endure these kinds of things as these were simply Satoru’s marital duties, and by extension, his duty to the crown.

His high washes over him like a tidal wave crashing into the rock shore, grunting as he involuntarily thrusts as he releases inside her, Himiko collapsing onto the pillows as he does. “O-oh, haaa- agh,” his deep tenor moans into her long black hair as his seed paints her walls, holding her close to his form, their heartbeats racing a million miles an hour.

He pulls out his flaccid cock, plopping down next to her, pulling her small frame for her head to rest on his chest. “I just need to have father reinstate me as heir apparent and return all my estates, then,” he kisses her once, his lips moving in sync with her soft ones.

“…We’ll get rid of her.”

₊˚.༄ Crown Prince!Gojo who blatantly and publicly humiliates you by bringing along Himiko Zenin to a state visit to the imperial family’s counterpart in Monaco rather than you, his rightful wife. And when asked of your whereabouts, Satoru simply replies with a casual shrug, his hand squeezing Himiko’s smaller ones as she usurps the banquet thrown in your honor by the Monacan royal family while you watch the horrific scene unfold on your television screen, your heart shattering into a million pieces as Himiko and Satoru uncaringly waltz with one another in front of the watchful eyes of the entire world throughout the evening.

₊˚.༄ Crown Prince!Gojo who crucifies you for your acts of sincere charity, believing you to be actively humiliating Himiko despite having no intentions whatsoever resembling his baseless accusation. “Did you honestly think your little publicity antics would go unpunished? I bet you were just itching for the attention, weren’t you?” he snarls at you the second you come back from a visit to one of the hospitals you had commissioned for the treatment of children with rare diseases, a compassionate act which had been heavily televised by national broadcasting stations and even international news agencies. “If you wish to compete with Himiko, wife, then, by all means. But I swear to you, I will do everything — everything I can — to make the entire world know just how much of an opportunistic whore you are—”

You gaze up at your husband with fear in your eyes. “…I was not competing with Himiko, can I not care for our people — your people? I’m sure they need someone to promote their interests when their own prince couldn’t be bothered to do so!” you retaliate but are quickly shot down when he throws his scotch glass at the wall, causing you to flinch when it shatters on impact.

“I will make sure this humiliation you dealt to Himiko will return to you tenfold, (Y/N),” he dangerously seethes, coming to the aid of his mistress. “Celebrate your victory all you want, wife, but make no mistake, this is far from over.”

₊˚.༄ Crown Prince!Gojo who indifferently scoffs when you crumble into a sobbing mess after yet another argument with him. “W-what can I do to make you not hate me so much? P-please tell me, Satoru.” The only response you receive is your husband dangerously moving closer to you, his eyes, dark with pure loathing. Instinctively, you step backward, only to be met by the cold wall of your shared bedroom. “S-Satoru—“

“—Here’s what you can do: do exactly as I say, without question,” he traps you between his arms, his breath hot on your skin, his lips dangerously close to yours, his voice dripping with the venom that could turn every silver thread in your heart into a hue that resembled charcoal black. “If I tell you to kiss me, you kiss me. If I tell you to get out, you get out. If I tell you to shut up, you sew your mouth shut or rip your tongue out, I really don’t give a damn. If I tell you to die…”

…

“…You drop dead.”

a/n: meh, just wrote this at the top of my head to get rid of this stupid writer’s block since hehe i have like eighteen drafts of jjk smut and drabbles in my tumblr folder rn help :’)

might turn this into a multi-chapter fic depending on how it is received. so lemme know your thoughts by reblogging, liking or commenting on this post!

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