#what life experiences have led you to this place

[gaylordscooter]

You're at the Party

“so you brought mass murderers to my place without warning me beforehand?” Cross said.

“Haha, nice.”

“don't humor them, chara.”

Blue wrung his hands together, opening his mouth to explain only for Ink to cut in.

“Listen, these guys aren't gonna cause any trouble. Besides, I thought this was a place where people could start over.” Ink crossed his arms.

“Two of them killed everyone in their universe? Hm, a Sans killing a bunch of people…Where have I heard that before?” XChara nudged Cross’s arm.

“you know that isn’t the problem here.”

Everyone gave Cross a look as if he was the one that was being unreasonable here.

Cross sighed, “fine, they can stay. but they need to pass a test first.”

Blue narrowed his eyes skeptically. “What kind of test?”

“well, i guess it's more of a favor.”

“Is this what I think it is? You're not sending them there.”

Cross waved away his concern. “it’ll be fine,” he insisted.

“What are we talking about?” Ink questioned.

Blue leaned close to Ink. “He’s totally planning to use them to retrieve his friend.”

“Oh! Hah. Ahahahahaha!” Ink giggled like he told him a joke. His eyelights reflected his amusement as he stared at Cross. “So we’re at this part now, huh?”

Cross looked confused while Blue huffed at his words and XChara looked bored.

Ink clapped his hands together. “Well then~! Have fun with that~!” he said cheerfully.

“I'm sure those tildes have no malice behind it,” Blue deadpanned.

“Oh, when have my tildes ever held malice~?”

Blue opted for putting his hands on his waist rather than gracing that with a reply.

“Anyway, I gotta bounce! I’ll see y’all later. Don't have too much fun without me~!” He painted a hole in the ground and hopped into it while waving goodbye.

“Eugh, he's like a kid that just learned about emoticons,” XChara said.

“you can't even see the tildes,” Cross pointed out.

XChara rolled their eyes. “I don't have to. I can hear it in his voice.”

“Never mind that. Cross, you can't send them there! I’ve already been making a careful plan. To just toss it out the window and replace it with an improvised one isn't a good idea!”

He rolled his eyelights and crossed his arms. “It doesn't need to work, anyway. I don't expect it to.”

Blue’s sockets widened as he gasped. “So you're just,” he gestured wildly, “sending them off to their deaths? Where's your compassion?”

“Where was their compassion when they hurt all those monsters?”

Blue narrowed his eye sockets. “Where's your compassion?” he repeated in a duller tone.

“Don't you have a Mettaton to serve? This isn't your business.” he snapped back.

Blue threw his hands up, “Wow! Sheesh. Fine. Go have fun torturing the prisoners of war.” He stormed off with a frown.

XChara and Cross watched as he walked in a direction that definitely led to nowhere rather than towards the town.

“He has a point,” XChara stated.

“Awful navigation skills is what he has,” Cross spat. He noticed XChara’s unamused face and did a double take. “Do you actually agree with him?”

“Huh! Do I agree with him that you have no right to judge these morally messed up monsters and that sending them to that freak’s place as punishment is completely hypocritical of you?” They stroked their chin and pretended to think about it hard. “Yes, Mr. ‘the reason why our world has become a hotspot for people who messed up like you!’”

“You don't care about them at all. You're just saying that to spite me.”

“I am, thanks for noticing,” they deadpanned.

Cross brought a hand to his face and sighed.

Killer awoke. He wasn't refreshed in the slightest and he nearly panicked over waking up in unfamiliar surroundings if it wasn't for Dust smacking him on the head.

No wait, he was called Dusk now. He even came up with that name for him.

Sheesh, the sudden change is gonna be hard to get used to.

Right. New chapter of his life. Again. Again again, actually.

Ironically, he was starting to get sick of new experiences.

This wasn't a bad change, really. In fact, it was a clear upgrade. Well, that's what he thought back when Nightmare first found him too, so.

He was waiting for the catch. He was ready this time.

There was a knock on the door.

Both of them had the knee-jerk reaction of summoning a blaster angled at the door but then the rational part of their minds took over and they scrambled out of bed to hold their blasters' mouths shut.

“good morning to you guys too,” said the voice behind the door.

They managed to desummon their blasters once they recognized that it was, in fact, Horror that knocked.

There was unmistakable joy on Killer’s face. He didn't say it, but he was convinced Horror was going to avoid them since they got settled in.

He skipped over to the door like a gleeful idiot and opened the door.

Killer was surprised by his getup. It was the first time he's seen him in different clothing. If it wasn't for the red eye in his socket he wouldn't have recognized him.

The first thing he noticed was the cap he was wearing. It was a generic white cap that covered the hole in his head. Other than that, his outfit was the same as any other normal Sans, sans the signature hoodie. He also looked a lot less tired.

“‘sup, h—sans. ‘sup sans,” Killer said, barely catching himself. He couldn't help but still refer to him as “Horror” in his mind, since from the day they met that's what he called him and known him as. But those names were nothing but brands that Nightmare put on him and Dusk. They weren't names that they chose for themselves.

“hey,” he replied with a small wave, mostly aimed at Dusk to acknowledge his presence even though he hadn't approached the door yet. “so…” he trailed off, unsure.

So.

They were in unfamiliar territory now. After a whole year of living with Nightmare, they formed somewhat of a schedule. A loose one, but a schedule nonetheless—mainly built off of the way Nightmare acted. 

With that thrown out the window, every step they took was unfamiliar. Potentially dangerous. Ironic, considering they were in a safer area now. At least they assumed so.

They hoped so.

They would normally eat breakfast at this time, probably. They weren't ever exactly sure what time it was, but that's how it's been their whole life. It felt like it was around that time, at least.

“my bro said there's a bakery here.” Another pause. Okay, he didn't have to make this that awkward. “you two wanna scope the place out with me?”

Killer’s smile perked up at the edges. “hate to say it, that sounded like you just asked us out on a date.”

“‘k, forget i asked.” He made the move to shut the door.

“nah, i’m joking! we’ll go—” he whipped his head to Dusk for verification, who gave him a thumbs up. “—yeah, let's go.”

So they got out of the hotel room. The lobby had a few people, unlike last time.

None of the three really acknowledged anyone there and no one acknowledged them, until some Monster Kid said a mere hello that made them all awkwardly respond; either with a curt head nod, wave, or quiet “hi” back.

Boy, they weren't ready to be perceived by anyone else. How the hell were they going to handle entering a cafe, let alone going outside? Well, Sans managed, so.

Sans was probably the most stable of the three, let's be real. He was the only one who had contact with other people before Nightmare came to them. When it comes to interaction, Killer and Dusk have done nothing but literally talk to themselves for who knows how long.

The second Sans started to open the door, Killer protested, “actually. could you just grab me something instead? i’ll stay in the room.” When he turned to retreat, Dusk grabbed him by the arm.

Dusk gave him a look that spelled “really, coward?”

“i don't think i’m ready, okay? sue me,” he said. He could already feel eyes on him. The stares gnawed away at his bones, trying to eat him alive. 

They knew what he wanted to do.

Dusk sighed, letting go of his arm. “we can't go,” he signed to Sans.

“right…” he sounded disappointed—no that was pity in his voice. He probably didn’t even expect the two to agree in the first place. “anything specific you want?”

“nothin’ with chocolate.”

Dusk shook his head.

“gotcha. i’ll be back in a bit,” he said.

Dusk and Killer watched as he sauntered off to be a normal monster that was a part of society. Then they walked at a breakneck pace back to their room.

Once they were back in the safety of their private room, they collapsed on their beds.

Killer, face buried against his pillow, groaned in frustration. “i hate this. we're safe now and i can't even go outside. do you feel it too, dusk? that tug on your soul?”

He might kill someone if he went outside. It was highly likely.

Of course it wouldn't be that easy to return to a normal life—of course his high LOVE would haunt him. He was too tired yesterday to be bothered by it, but now, any other monster he saw that wasn't Dusk or Sans had his soul screaming for more exp.

“i’m trying to ignore it,” Dusk mumbled.

He laughed. That's not going to work. That is not going to work and they both know it. 

That’s.

That's not going to work.

“it was—it was better when we were stuck with Nightmare. we wouldn't be able to—”

“It wasn’t better,” Dusk interrupted.

“—we’re going to kill someone. we're going to kill someone and it's going to snowball and it'll—hah—it'll be like a snowball of dust!”

He was choking now, on the rotten determination coming out of his skull.

“killer.”

That's what he was, wasn't he? A killer.

“killer!”

That's all he was.

“Killer.”

Oh, someone was holding him by the shoulders. Wow, everything was blurry and stained black. No, that was just the liquid in his sockets. He tilted his head down, letting it flow out until he could see better.

Oh, it was Dusk. Right.

He shuddered out a breath. He realized all his senses had turned off for the past few seconds. When the hell did he get on the floor?

His eyelights finally focused enough to stare back at Dusk. He didn't like the worried look he had on his face. He cleared his throat, trying to play it off, but all that did was make him hack out more rotten determination.

“well…” the sentence died on his teeth the second he started. “i want to go back to sleep,” he settled on saying.

Dusk brought him into a stilted not-quite-a-hug, where he brought him closer and draped his skull over his shoulder.

They just. Stayed there. For a bit.

“another episode…i’m starting a daily streak, really.” Any humor he thought that statement would have was completely absent. God, how fucking pathetic was he? Surely Dusk was struggling with his LOVE just as much as he was but he didn’t fuss about it. He shouldn’t need Dusk’s comfort and Dusk shouldn’t need to comfort him. He was so selfish. So needy.

Killer willed himself to move away from Dusk to lay back down on his bed.

The room was quiet until someone knocked on the door again.

Dusk opted to answer the door since Killer wasn't budging.

Fortunately it was Sans who was at the door but unfortunately, he wasn't alone. Behind him was another skeleton he hadn't seen before.

He wore monochromatic clothing and there were large x’s on his sleeves and boots. He looked a lot younger than all of them. He must've been in his 20’s. His eyelights were a lot bigger than the average sans, with a slitted pupil reminiscent of a cat’s.

Despite the youthful look, one glance was enough to tell Dusk that he had a lot of LOVE too. It wasn’t nearly as much as he or Killer had, but it was more than the amount Sans had.

Dusk glared at the stranger as if he personally wronged him.

Sans didn’t look too happy either with the death grip he had on the bag containing their breakfast.

“hey,” Sans said. He walked in as if everything was fine and normal.

The stranger also tried walking in as if everything was fine and normal.

A wall of bones rose in front of him to block his path.

Killer sat up on the bed, “nope. not dealing with unwelcome company now, thank you.”

The stranger cleared his throat, straightening his posture. “well, i’m actually the organizer of this place. the name’s cross. i’m sure ink told you three about me.”

“i’ve never heard of you in my life,” Killer said.

It was painfully clear that Cross was already annoyed by Killer, despite his attempts to keep his face neutral. “i’ll just get to the point—”

“he’s gonna test us. if we pass, we can stay. if we don’t, we’re getting kicked out,” Sans said. He opened the bag of food and grabbed a pastry for himself before handing it over to Dusk.

Dusk hesitated as he grabbed the bag. He quickly grabbed the first pastry he laid his hand on and turned to Killer.

“we’re getting kicked out?” Killer repeated.

“only if you don’t pass the test,” Cross emphasized.

Killer stood up as the wall of bones went away. He shambled over to him with a misleadingly calm expression. He leaned close to Cross’s head, keeping his hands by his sides. “what’s the test?”

Cross stood his ground, keeping his eyes locked on Killer as if he would attack him if he merely glanced away. “a rescue mission,” he answered with a steady voice despite the tension.

“the blue guy said you weren’t going to torture us,” Killer spat.

“it’s not torture. i have a plan. it should be simple,” Cross insisted.

He narrowed his eye sockets. “so why are you using us as fodder?”

“it’s a test.”

Sans snagged the bag from Dusk and shoved it over to Killer. “no point in complainin’, just roll with it.”

Killer pushed the bag aside. “why are you being so compliant? he’s going to send us to our deaths!”

“because we don’t have a choice,” he sighed. “besides, we’ve gone through hell and back, what’s one more trial?”

Killer caved in and grabbed the bag to fish out a pastry for himself. He took a hefty bite from it specifically to talk with his mouth full, “you gonna leave us alone after we complete this ‘rescue mission’?”

“yeah, just this one thing and you’ll all prove that i can trust you to stay here.”

Killer winced at the word “trust”. He quickly scarfed the rest of the pastry down. Now that he thought about it, he couldn’t really blame Cross for putting them through a trial considering that they’re all murderers. Well, he didn’t think Sans should be judged to the same extent as them. He needed to kill all those humans in order to survive.

“why does sans need to go too? his friends and family have already been staying here,” he asked.

Cross looked surprised by his question. Fucker probably didn’t expect him to be considerate. “the plan’s easier with three people, and all three of you worked with nightmare.”

“worked!?” Killer shoved the bag towards Sans and grabbed Cross by his shirt. “we didn’t work with that bastard. he KIDNAPPED us! if you think for one second that we associated with him? oh you got it entirely wrong, asshole! do you think we had fun being his fucking toys?” he snapped.

“killer, let go of him,” Sans said.

“y’know what? fine. i’ll do your stupid test. nothing you put me through will be worse than what he did to us,” he snarled before pushing him away.

Cross fixed the wrinkles Killer made on his clothes. His nonchalant behavior pissed Killer off even more.

He was lucky he actually listened to Sans.

“sorry, i wasn’t aware of that,” he said quietly.

Killer calmed down only slightly at the apology. He crossed his arms and scoffed, “you better be.”

Cross waited for them to finish eating breakfast before he went over the plan.

As he talked more, the three were even less psyched about doing this.

They were going to disguise themselves and then enter the place through a portal made by Ink. The first part of the plan was finding the right monster. Cross handed them an image for reference. They collectively sighed when they saw it was yet another Sans. If he wasn't wearing the same outfit it would be hard to find him, that's not to mention that Cross said the place they were infiltrating was a packed warehouse.

The second part of the plan was actually leaving the place. Which was supposedly the easier part of the plan because Ink will arrive and make another portal once they find the monster.

All in all, this just sounded like some dumb hidden object game rather than a rescue mission.

Ink arrived at the room shortly after Cross finished explaining. He came in holding a pile of clothes, their disguises.

Said clothes were all campy and flashy.

“in what world,” Sans held up a sequin jacket that had colors that could blind hawks, “are these disguises?”

“Well you're going to a party! A rave, specifically,” Ink explained.

Killer snatched a red leather jacket and bell bottom jeans from the pile. “all of these shirts suck, i’m gonna change.” He went over to the bathroom with the articles in hand.

“Oh yeah!” Ink snapped his hand. He reached into the pockets of his pants and took out three pairs of sunglasses, each were different shapes. “Almost forgot the most important part.”

“glasses,” Sans remarked.

Dusk and Sans exchanged glances with each other.

“it's really bright there,” Cross explained.

“in a warehouse?”

“trust me, the strobe lights could probably blind you otherwise.”

Sans narrowed his sockets.

Killer finished changing and waltzed out of the bathroom, flaunting his gaudy outfit.

“no shirt?” Sans remarked.

“i said they all suck.”

“surely you could just wear the shirt you already had on.”

“actually,” Cross butted in, “after you three get back we’re burning those clothes immediately. so probably don't wear anything that's actually yours.”

“and why are you doing that?”

“Cooties,” Ink deadpanned.

Cross frowned at him.

“Anyways, take a pair. Whatever you do, do not take them off.” Ink held out the shades with a wink.

Killer opted for the triangular ones while Dusk grabbed the rectangular ones and Sans got the circular ones.

Then Dusk and Sans grabbed whatever clothing, tossing any attempts to make a cohesive outfit out the window, and took turns changing in the bathroom.

Finally, Cross looked over the three, determining if their disguises were good to go. Dusk and Sans’s fits were horrible. That neon fluffy bucket hat that Sans wore was definitely not comfortable. At least Killer had a cohesive outfit.

He spent a second longer looking at Killer's sunglasses. He leaned close to Ink. “it doesn't cover his sockets fully,” he whispered.

“It’ll be fiiine,” Ink assured. He clasped his hands together. “Okay! You're all ready to go. Don't forget, you're looking for Epic, the most notable feature is the scar on his eye socket. Keep your distance from other partygoers and do not take off those shades.” His scarf swept at the floor underneath the three, creating holes that lead to their destination.

The three could barely see Ink waving goodbye as they fell.

The landing wasn't bad, all of them landed on their feet just fine, but the change in atmosphere gave them whiplash. While it was dark as night, strobe lights flashed and lit up the place erratically.

Oh god the music.

Eurodance from the 90’s was blasting with bass heavy enough to shake the building.

Oh god, the amount of monsters.

They were also dressed in gaudy outfits, which explained why their disguises were like that.

“cool. all we need to do is find whoever the hell ‘epic’ is. should we split?” Killer asked.

“oh god no,” Sans said.

Dusk grabbed them by their shoulders to drag them around and start their search.

“they're all wearing glasses too, didn't they say a scar on the socket is how we can differentiate him?” Sans said.

Killer groaned, “this is gonna take forever! we should just ask around or something.”

“you suddenly in the mood for social interaction?”

“this sensory nightmare’s making me feel like i’m floating out of my body, i just want to get this over with.” Killer approached one of the partygoers. “hey, y’know where a skeleton called epic is?”

He was completely ignored.

“cool. awesome. if we don't split up this’ll literally take forever, peace.” Killer walked off without waiting for the other two’s input.

Dusk and Sans watched as he got lost in the crowd in a whopping five seconds.

Dusk face palmed.

“maybe…maybe we can ask the dj? then they'll put out an announcement, or something,” Sans said.

“not that simple,” Dusk signed. He spelled out “fishy”.

“would it hurt to try?”

Dusk frantically shook his fist in a “yes.”

“eh, don't be a downer. where is the dj, anyway?” He looked around, fortunately most of the monsters here were around the same height as him so his view wasn't too obstructed. “yeesh, this place is big.”

The strobe lights flickered more as they all started moving to one point. The lights shone on the DJ station, the DJ themself was still shrouded in darkness. The sound of scratching discs filled the building as the music quieted down. “HOW WE FEELIN’ BROSEPHS ‘N JOESEPHS!?”

A mechanical roar of cheers rang out among the crowd.

They recognized that voice. They most definitely recognized that voice.

Dusk grabbed Sans by the arm.

“okay,” Sans breathed, “that's fine. maybe, no one knows his deal. we can just. leave the building.”

Dusk tugged at Sans, pointing furiously at the ground.

It was hard to notice due to how dark and packed it is, but on the ground were several piles of dust.

“hm. nice knowing ya.”

“You party animals havin’ fun?! I know I am, yo!” The unmistakable sound of Fresh’s voice boomed throughout the warehouse. The lights finally shone on him. He looked exactly the same as the first time they saw him. He was spinning. a disc on his finger. “I just gots some totes rad news before we continue on with gettin’ jiggy.”

The colored lights moved over to his side, revealing a stage that was hidden in the darkness, and on the stage was Killer. He looked confused, as if he didn't even know how he got up there.

Sans nearly swore but Dusk slapped a hand over his mouth.

When he caught sight of Fresh he stood frozen like a deer caught in headlights.

“Any bros know this fool?” Fresh asked. He put the disk back on the turntable and scratched his chin. “I don't. Did we invite him?” His bemusement barely masked his elation at having prey he didn't have to catch.

Killer didn't know what to do. He looked down at the crowd. The sunglasses they wore were originally all blank but the familiar “YOLO” text was on them now.

Running definitely wasn't going to help.

“Eh no biggie. I’ll give him a proper introduction to this rad party.” Fresh turned the music back on.

Killer internally swore at Cross, cursing his entire life. He was going to die and it was going to be to the fucking tune of a stupid 90’s song about sex. Well he wasn't going down without a fight.

He summoned a blaster aimed at Fresh and fired.

Only for one of the partygoers to leap into the blast to block it.

Killer watched in horror as he dusted that monster. The familiar rush of exp hit him like a truck, he couldn't help but fall to his knees.

“oh god,” Sans muttered from the crowd.

The three were completely powerless in this situation. This wasn't a fucking test. They were sent to their deaths.

What a sick joke.

“Oh snap! Well, you're just gonna hafta replace that now, aren't ya?” Fresh disappeared with a poof, promptly reappearing behind Killer.

Killer quickly pushed himself up and backed away from him.

Fresh didn't even follow him, the stage wasn't that big anyway.

He reached the edge of the stage, back to the crowd. Only Fresh could see the fear on his face.

Some of the crowd climbed on stage to grab his ankles, anchoring him down.

 He was hyperventilating, he was overwhelmed, he felt nothing at all.

He felt nothing at all.

Dusk and Sans went as far as they could away from the stage. They eventually reached a wall. Sans leaned against it in defeat while Dusk banged his skull against it.

Sans winced at the loud thud.

They could vaguely see the stage from here. Killer was gone and Fresh returned to his station.

The party continued on like nothing happened.

“so. do you think you’ll end up back in your universe after, or.”

Dusk huffed.

“right.” Dumb question.

They just stood there against the wall watching the neverending party. They questioned if this was hell or purgatory. No, this was definitely hell.

“ey, i finally found you guys.” It was Killer.

Dusk and Sans tensed.

His soul was a shape they’ve never seen it be before. It was in the shape of a flower.

“chillax, i’m not gonna do anything,” he said. His cadence was off. “you two have just been standing there all gloomy…” He put a hand on the wall just above Dusk’s shoulder. “why don’t you come join the fun?”

With how close he was, Dusk was able to see the parasitic flower in the small sliver of his sockets that wasn't covered by the triangular shades.

Killer leaned closer to his face. “c’mon, i’m getting lonely.”

Sans socked him in the face.

Dusk flinched back in surprise as Killer fell to the ground from the impact.

Sans shook the pain off his hand. “i think we're good.”

Dusk knelt down by Killer. He took his shades off and immediately plunged his hand into the socket containing the flower.

“uh—” Sans reached a hand out but was interrupted by Killer’s lucid screaming.

The nearby skeletons slowed their dancing, turning over to the interruption.

With one last quick yank, the flower snapped off. Dusk dropped it and stamped his foot on it repeatedly.

Killer gasped for air and keened in pain. Then he passed out.

Dusk blinked in shock.

Sans cringed, “think you went a bit overboard.”

“you were the one who punched him!” Dusk blurted stupidly.

“yup, and you committed malpractice.”

The music came to a halt with a dramatic record scratch.

The lights landed on the three.

“Yo, dudes. Quit harshin’ the vibe,” Fresh scoffed into the mic.

Dusk rolled his eyelights and picked Killer up, draping him over his shoulder.

They were surrounded now, by the skeletons under his control.

Dusk summoned multiple blasters overhead, ready to fire if any of them stepped closer.

“Yeesh! You three weren't even invited! What's the dealio? That scummy octo brought you here to rustle my jimmies or something?”

That. Wasn't even 90’s lingo.

There was some feedback coming from the mic. “That thing’s not comin’ here for real, actually, right?” For once he sounded unsure.

Was he actually threatened by Nightmare?

They had to roll with the lie. They could survive this. They just had to convince him he was coming.

Sans put a hand on Dusk’s shoulder. “nah yeah, he won't have to intervene as long as we get what he needs.”

“Bogus! Whaddaheck would that dillweed need?”

Sans pulled out the image of Epic from his pocket and showed it to the nearest partygoer. “we just need this guy, and we'll be outta your hair.”

“Oooh, yeah, I get what you're layin’ down.”

Said nearest partygoer grabbed Sans’s wrist.

“You're fibbin’.”

Welp.

Dusk was just about to fire the blasters on standby, only for a cluster of bones to sprout from the ceiling and stab through the giant skulls.

Dusk grumbled. He adjusted his grip on Killer so that he didn't drop him.

“you're kinda grabbing his butt,” Sans pointed out.

“we’ve done worse.”

“go back to not talking.”

“Aight. So y’all come on in uninvited and interrupt my bodacious party? S’all good. I’ll let you dudes bounce…not!” Fresh yelled into the mic. “I’m gonna enjoy taking y’all over. You're not worming your way out this time.”

Right as his sentence ended, it was disproved. A portal opened. It was like the light at the end of the tunnel.

That portal looked similar to the ones Nightmare made, actually.

“Ah, nah, what’s the dealio?”

But instead of the guardian of negativity arriving, a huge wave of tiny not-quite-skeletons poured in like a flood.

“what,” Dusk and Sans said in unison as absolute chaos unfolded in the warehouse.

These “not-quite-skeletons” acted more like hyperactive temmies. Their giant skulls were bigger than the rest of their body making them look more like aliens than anything. They all wore bandanas that matched the color of their huge star eyelights. They bounded around the place causing total anarchy.

Fresh among others were trampled by these small menaces. Some were simply dancing to the music while others were actively jumping some of the partygoers. They swore they even saw one playing with a pile of dust.

And all of this was happening while “We Like to Party!” by the Vengaboys was playing.

A second portal opened up behind them. They didn't even get to process this before someone yanked them through.

They both landed on their backs. Killer peacefully laid atop Dusk, still managing to sleep through that all. Hopefully he wasn't in a coma.

Dusk and Sans looked at each other, unsure if they were both already dead or if what they saw was all real.

Certainly one hell of a deus ex machina, but with all the shit they’ve gone through they might as well accept it with open arms.

It was Blue that stood over them, looking utterly concerned. “oh my GOD, you three almost died! well, you would’ve been under fresh’s control for whoever knows how long and then you would collapse from exhaustion and then die, but still,” he rambled. He put a hand on his face. “If my plan didn't work…well! Glad it did! Even if it wasn't the one I initially had,” he sighed in relief. “I’m SO sorry you guys went through that! I told Cross not to do it but, ARGH, no one listens to me!” He stomped his foot, it reminded them of Papyrus.

Another portal appeared next to him and two skeletons walked out. One was dressed like they just walked out of an anime convention and the other was clearly a skeleton from Fresh’s party.

“Thank you so much Dream,” Blue said.

Dream?

The two looked closely at him. There was a star made out of magic floating by his forehead. It reminded them of the crescent moon that rested near Nightmare's forehead. He was the one that created the portals similar to him too.

“you're his brother,” Sans said.

“Hm? Brother? I don’t…”

“They already know he's your brother, Dream,” Blue interrupted.

Dream darted his eyelights away guiltily. “I promise you, I’m not like him at all. I’m so sorry he held you all captive for a year! It must've been horrible.”

Dusk and Sans didn't really care about the needless pity. Both of them had one thing on their mind and it was punching the living daylights out of Cross.

“Right…” Blue said awkwardly. “Anyway, Dream, please tend to Epic, I’ll take these guys from here.”

Dream nodded and teleported himself and the other skeleton, who was apparently Epic, off to someplace else.

Blue stared down at the three who hadn't budged at all. “So, do you guys need help getting up, or.”

“i’m staying down here, thanks,” Sans said.

“Is Killer knocked out, or sleeping?”

“he's been out cold ever since Dusk ripped off the flower in his socket.”

Blue smacked the side of his skull, looking distraught. He looked around the place—they just realized they were in someone's living room—and told them to stay there before bolting off to another room.

Sans turned his attention to Killer and Dusk. “are you just gonna have him lay on top of you the whole time?”

Dusk shrugged. Honestly he was kind of comfortable like this. Killer was like a weighted blanket.

Sans finally got up from the floor, stretching his back with a groan. He stumbled over to the couch nearby and flopped onto it. He massaged his face. “god, i don't want to do anything ever again.”

Dusk hummed in agreement.

Blue came back shortly after with a stash of snacks. He dumped them onto the coffee table in front of the couch. “I got some snacks so you guys can replenish your energy. Do any of you know healing magic?”

Dusk nodded.

Blue walked over to him, leaning down to pick up Killer off of him only for Dusk to slap his hand away. “Oh! Sorry, I thought you were stuck,” he said, embarrassed.

Dusk sat up, holding Killer in his arms. He carefully put his hand over his soul and started healing it.

“you're not even going to eat first—Okay, that's fine.” Blue looked away from the poor medical practice. He waited a moment. “Okay, you're not supposed to keep going until he wakes up, you're gonna overload his soul with magic.”

Dusk rolled his eyelights and drew his hand away.

“He should wake up in a few minutes. In the meantime,” he grabbed something off the table and threw it at him, “eat something!”

The packaged snack bumped his head and fell to the floor sadly.

Dusk laid Killer down, having his head rest on his legs so that he could pick up the snack and eat it.

Blue turned to Sans. “You should eat something too.”

Sans glanced at the food on the table, then back at Blue. “why are you helping us?” he asked.

Blue looked disheartened by his suspicion. He fidgeted with his hands. “because i want to. And why wouldn't I? Everyone deserves help!”

“real naive of you to say.”

Blue’s expression hardened. “Fine, maybe it’s more than that. Maybe I want to feel like I’m worth something by helping people out. Maybe I’m sick of people dying when I could’ve done something. Maybe I’m guilty, so I help assholes like you in order to cope! Is that a selfish enough answer for you?”

Sans grabbed something off the table to eat. “sure.”

Blue sighed, crossing his arms. “good.”

They sat in silence as the two ate a bit. After a few uncomfortable minutes, Killer finally woke up.

He rolled off of Dusk. He immediately fired a round of questions, “everything hurts. why’s it so dark. where am i?”

“The lights are on?” Blue said.

“who the hell are you?”

“i think you blinded him, dude,” Sans said.

“what?!” Killer shouted.

“He shouldn’t be permanently blinded, he just needs to eat!” Blue assured. “Carelessly yanking out Fresh’s flower temporarily blinds the victim because it injures the orbit, and any injury to that area causes temporary blindness as our magic prioritizes healing it over being able to see.”

“oh, you’re the nerd that gave us food yesterday.”

“i’m the huh?” Blue mumbled. He shook off the insult and grabbed some packaged crackers off the table to give to Killer. “Anyway, we’re not at the hub right now. You guys are gonna crash at my place, which is here, until I give Cross a talk.”

Killer gnawed on the crackers without removing the wrapper, until Dusk snatched it from him to properly open it and hand it back to him. 

Killer poured the crumbs into his mouth, a good amount of it missed and landed on the floor which Blue decided to ignore.

After blinking a few times, Killer was able to see again. “where is ‘here’?”

“I don’t really have time to explain what this place is but uh, I suggest not going outside because you might end up in a different universe,” Blue said casually. “I shouldn’t be gone for too long, but in case I am, you guys are free to raid the kitchen, watch some tv, etc—Oh yeah! I also have a book containing all my notes on the multiverse if you wanna read it. Since you three are outcodes now it’ll be useful to know about some of the threats and important areas in the multiverse.”

The three of them looked at him like he was speaking a different language.

He coughed into his hand and pulled the book out from his inventory to set it on the coffee table. He awkwardly waved goodbye which got no responses and left the house.

“that guy’s too nice,” Killer remarked. “how hasn’t he died?”

“my guess is dumb luck or he’s hiding something.” Sans sat up on the couch, looking curiously at the book, which was actually just some spiral bound notebook. He picked it up, might as well read it to pass the time.

Killer stood up, stumbling a bit as he waited for the vertigo to pass. “i’m gonna snoop around,” he announced.

“have fun with that.”

While Killer wandered off and Sans read, Dusk went over to the fridge.

Sans flipped through the pages of the notebook, skimming over the titles of various names of people and places. He paused when he saw Nightmare’s name.

“dusk, get over here!”

Dusk walked over with no haste at all. He was holding two glasses, and was currently drinking out of one. He held out the other to Sans.

Sans looked up from the book to see the concoction he was giving him. It was nearly the same as all the past times Dusk made the mistake of playing bartender. Except this time…”did you add crushed chips? that thing has at least four different textures in it now.”

Dusk shrugged.

Killer walked back in the room, looking very dissatisfied. He wasn’t able to find anything interesting or any skeletons in the closet. His sights immediately landed on the drinks. “what the fuck is that?” he chuckled.

“nah, killer this ain’t for you.” Sans took the second drink from Dusk’s hand.

“aw, what?”

“anyway,” he took a sip, “this guy has notes about nightmare.”

Killer walked around the table and sat next to Sans. “woah, that's crazy.” He leaned closer at the book, but quickly switched his target to the drink.

Unfortunately, Sans was quick enough to move the drink away before he could take a sip.

Killer grumbled disappointedly and looked back at the book, actually reading the page this time. “i mean, we already know all of this, i don't see how this is…” he trailed off as he got halfway through the page. “huh. he’s had quite the history.”

“whaddya think being ‘the guardian of negativity’ means?”

“does it matter? we hate him. end of story.”

Sans eyed the line that said Nightmare couldn't feel positive emotions. If that was true, that explained a lot of things, but did that change anything? Not really. “yeah, i guess it doesn't.”

Once he was back at the hub, Blue hunted down Cross. His angry speech died on his metaphorical tongue the second he saw him and Epic having a reunion. He stopped in his tracks and watched them from a distance.

Ink appeared by his side, also watching the two. “Ah, a happy ending.” “It was completely unnecessary for any of this to happen and you know it,” Blue said sternly.

Ink pouted. “Aw, are you mad at me? It wasn’t my idea to send those three to their deaths.”

Blue scowled at him. “But it’s your fault Fresh kidnapped Epic in the first place.” Ink looked dumbfounded and then guilty, like a dog that was caught doing something it shouldn’t. “You’re getting too good at reading me…” he sighed. “How long did you know?”

“The second we found out it was Fresh that took Epic I immediately knew it was you,” Blue deadpanned. There were only a few people who could’ve let Fresh into the place, and only one person who would’ve. Besides, ever since Cross rescued Epic from his scripted death, Ink would glare at him like he personally wronged him.

“Aw,” Ink gave him a hug, “and you didn’t tell anyone?” He didn’t just not tell anyone he also covered for him. There was a reason Cross didn’t know he did it. “There wasn’t any point to.” “And you wouldn’t rat out your best friend!”

Blue flicked his cheek bone. “Sure,” he said sarcastically. He ended the hug with Ink with a gentle shove. “Those three are probably gonna try to kill Cross though. I’m making that your responsibility.”

Ink giggled at the idea of the three hunting down Cross. “Eh, he can handle that on his own.”

[foundress0fnothing]

and kisses are a better fate than wisdom

Summary: Feyre drags her sisters to Medieval Times to ogle the hot king. Nesta drags Emerie and Gwyn to Medieval Times for support and hater solidarity. And maybe to ogle some hot knights.

Rated E, Chapter 1/6, ~2.9k words

For @nessianweek ♥��

This fic is brought to you by an ER visit and antibiotics! I had intended to have the Nessian section of this complete, but then life kicked my ass, and so all I have to offer you today is a beginning. The Nessian smut chapter will be my next update to the fic, and then I’ll write chapters for all the other pairs (eventually and as the horny mood strikes).

Read on ao3 or below the cut!

“What the fuck, Feyre?” 

Nesta started in horror at the seemingly endless train of middle schoolers who were being led past the ticket window. Three jostled Nesta’s bag as they scuttled past, and she glared after them. Not that it did any good—they just dissolved into shrieking giggles as they careened around the space, narrowly missing the suit of armor standing in the corner of the large atrium. “Please tell me you didn’t have me call out of work for this.”

“Of course she didn’t, Nesta,” Elain said, a dangerous glint in her eye. “Our dear sister would only text us “Need you at the mall, personal emergency, please come ASAP” if it was for something really, really serious.” She looked pointedly at Feyre. “Right, Feyre?”

Feyre at least had the decency to look a little guilty. “He’s just…so hot, guys,” she mumbled, blushing.

“Oh my god.” Rolling her eyes, Nesta turned away from her sister’s embarrassed face to take in the spectacle that was apparently going to consume the next two hours of her life if the sign above the ticket window could be believed:

Brace yourself for approximately two hours of heart-pounding excitement! You’ll see lance-shattering jousting, clashing swordsmanship, and thrilling hand-to-hand combat! Join us for an unforgettable experience!

When Feyre told Nesta and Elain to meet her by the fake castle façade, Nesta had assumed it was only because it was easily recognizable and about as far away from Feyre’s waitressing job at the Cheesecake Factory as it could be while still technically being part of the mall. 

She did not expect that Feyre actually wanted her to spend time—not to mention 60 fucking dollars—in this tacky monstrosity. 

And “tacky” was a generous description of the space around her. Between the suit of armor in the corner, the display cases lining the room stuffed with replicas of weapons and garishly colored flags, and the entire wall devoted to headshots of all the idiots who were involved in the whole farce, Nesta found very little here that made her want to linger any longer than she absolutely had to.

But—it had been so long since her littlest sister had shown interest in anyone since she broke up with that god-awful trust fund manager Tamlin, and that interest, combined with Feyre’s palpable youngest sibling energy, softened Nesta enough to stay. Begrudgingly.

“It could be fun!” Feyre tried, but she was looking at the picture of whoever the “so hot” cast member was who prompted this nonsense in the first place as she said it, so Nesta didn’t trust her judgment anymore. She refused to look at the cast pictures. What use did she have for role-playing nerds or gym bros who used the guise of a medieval joust to hit at each other like brutes? No thanks.

She sighed and pulled out her phone to text her best friends and coworkers Emerie and Gwyn to take their lunch break and come over.  “I’m not about to suffer through this alone.” Their law office was only a few blocks away, and Nesta only felt the tiniest bit guilty about condemning them to a few hours of campy spectacle. What were friends for if not to hate watch something with you as a favor to your little sister?

That made Feyre turn away from the cast picture wall as she gestured indignantly between herself and Elain. “We’re here!” 

“You don’t count anymore, Feyre.”

“Well, what about Elain?”

Nesta scoffed lightly. “She’ll probably end up liking it somehow, and then I’ll have no one to complain with.” Elain stuck her tongue out although she didn’t deny it, and Nesta hummed in satisfaction at being right. She hadn’t missed the way Elain had also been looking at the wall of cast members, lingering for a few moments on the head shot of one of the knights who bore a distinctive red ponytail.

Nesta looked back at her phone and saw messages of confused confirmation from Emerie and Gwyn agreeing to meet her there, and so she went back to the ticket window to buy seats for them. Maybe she’d expense them—company bonding and all that bullshit.

By the time she returned to the corner where her sisters were standing, Gwyn and Emerie had joined them, and Nesta shook her head, forestalling the question that she could see forming on her friends’ lips. “Don’t ask.”

Emerie snorted. “You think I’m not going to have questions after you text us in the middle of the work day demanding that we take off and come to Medieval Times? Be serious Nesta.”

“Maybe she’s finally lost it,” Gwyn shrugged. “The Hybern case cracked her.”

“That case drives me to drink, not to willfully agree to a two hour long lobotomy.”

Feyre glared. “Stop being such a spoilsport. We’re here to ogle hot guys. You should be on board.”

“Hmmm, $60 to watch grown men play dress up and cover anything interesting with armor. Sign me up.”

An announcement overhead began, urging audience members to find their seats before the beginning of the show.

Feyre grinned and flicked her braid over her shoulder. “Well, good thing you already bought a ticket then, Nesta.” And with that, she hooked her arm around Elain’s, turned, and flounced into the darkened hall that led to the arena.

“Walked right into that one, babe.”

“Shut up, Em.”

Emerie flashed a smile and started following Feyre down the hall. “Do you think there’ll only be hot guys? Because that’s really gonna put a damper on the next two hours for me.”

“From a place like this?” Nesta gestured around to the kitschy, rustic decor. “I doubt we’re going to find any brave, gender-role defying performances here. I think the best you can hope for is a hot tavern wench.”

“Desperate times, I suppose.” Emerie sighed dramatically. “Perfect people must endure so much in this life.”

Gwyn giggled from where she was walking behind them. “And what would you know about that, Em?”

Emerie flipped her off without turning around, and Gwyn added, “But who knows? Maybe this’ll be great! Maybe we’ll find true lo—”

“Stop—don’t you dare finish that sentence.” Nesta stopped walking and turned to face Gwyn. You’re only here to be a hater with me.”

“Nesta—”

“No—this is a Valkyrie law office pact. You have to hate this with me. Don’t break the bonds of sisterhood for a guy in a tin can.” She whirled back around to Emerie. “Or a wench in too-tight stays. We’re better than that.”

Her friends nodded silently, and Nesta chose to ignore the knowing looks they gave each other in favor of turning back around and marching toward the opening to the arena. It was a large, airy room with rising wooden stands that ringed a sandy, clear oval in the middle of the space. There were oversize flags and banners hanging from the ceiling designating four different sections that corresponded to the different knights, and a dias, where the king would oversee whatever nonsense was about to happen.

Feyre and Elain had already grabbed their seats along a wooden, almost picnic-style bench in the first row of what was apparently the Red Knight’s section. Wenches were circulating, taking drink orders, and Nesta made sure to order a glass of wine—a large glass of wine—before she sat down. Needs must. Gwyn and Emerie quickly followed suit, and it wasn’t long before the lights in the stands dimmed and a hush fell over the crowd.

There was a distant stamping sound, and then all of a sudden, four knights on horseback burst out of a door at the far end of the arena, galloping around the perimeter of the arena. The audience erupted into cheers at the sight of the knights, and Nesta felt her mouth go dry.

Holy. Shit. 

She felt Gywn lean over to whisper in her ear. “Are we still better than that, Nesta? Because…” She trailed off, but Nesta didn’t need her to finish her sentence.

Because Holy. Fucking. Shit.

All but one of the knights weren’t wearing their helmets yet, and each one was intensely, unfairly gorgeous. 

There was the red and yellow knight whose long red hair streamed out behind him as he circled the arena. He was tall and wickedly handsome, even with a rough scar bisecting the left side of his face. Small charms and beads woven into individual strands caught the overhead lights and made him look like he was glowing with some inner light. 

The next knight was his opposite in every way. Clothed in black with accents of a deep blue, he seemed to swallow the light as he rode a lap around the arena. He was imposing and muscled and almost unfairly beautiful for a man. Especially for a man wearing fake armor, Nesta reminded herself, shaking her head and closing her mouth from how it had gaped open slightly at his appearance.

The green knight rode in after him, his helmet still on, and Nesta idly wondered why he alone would still be wearing his helmet. Was he self-conscious? Or just not a cocksure, handsome asshole like the first two knights? Whatever the reason, he was clearly an excellent horseman. His seat was agile and easy, and the two of them together moved like they were caught in some dance with music only they could hear. 

But Nesta didn’t have time to linger on why this knight was still wearing his helmet, or how well he rode a horse, because any thoughts she had were quickly replaced by the sight of the red knight. He was almost like a brother to the blue knight, but almost impossibly larger. It was as if he was made entirely of muscle—Nesta could see as much even with his armor covering almost everything except his neck and head. His skin was a deep brown and his hair, long and black and wavy, had been gathered into a messy half ponytail. He was a warrior, that much was clear, and Nesta had no idea how someone who looked like that could possibly exist in today’s world. He looked like Arthur, or Gawain, or Lancelot—someone from myths created centuries ago. 

“Shit, shit, shit there he is!” Feyre yanked on Nesta’s arm to drag her attention away from the red knight and point out—not subtly, mind you—the reason they were all here in the first place. The king who presided over the arena and the tournament had just stepped onto a platform situated against one of the walls. He was tall and dark-haired, and the kind of attractive that had from money written all over him. Not that someone who was from money would want to work at a place like this. But still—something about the smug smile and the glint in his eyes as he surveyed “his kingdom” made Nesta shudder slightly. No thanks. 

She turned a skeptical eye toward Feyre. “Him? Out of all of them?” She asked, gesturing to the knights who were bringing their horses to a rest in front of the dias. “You’re going with him?”

“What?” Feyre turned to Nesta in shock. “Do you have eyes?”

“Do you?”

Feyre crossed her arms in front of her chest, turning back to look at the king. “He’s clearly the hottest one here.”

“Okay, Feyre,” Nesta said, pursing her lips and deciding to let the argument drop. If he did it for her sister, then so be it. 

She turned back to the center of the arena to see that all of the knights had come to a stop in a line. The crowd was murmuring, pointing at the assembled men and occasionally whooping for their assigned knight. The red knight was looking over at their section, his eyes locked on Nesta. When he realized that she saw him, he winked and gave a small bow with his head. Nesta scowled, ignoring the spark of interest that flared to life somewhere in her chest. She would not let herself be flustered by a Medieval Times actor. She wouldn’t. 

The king raised a hand, and the crowd quieted. “My loyal subjects!” His voice, low and smooth, boomed over the gathered crowds. “I am his Royal Majesty, King Rhysand. Thank you for joining me here today to watch as the heroic knights of the kingdom fight for honor and for glory.” 

Nesta looked at Emerie and Gwyn and raised her eyebrows at his theatrics. Gwyn giggled, and the king’s gaze flashed over to where they were seated, roving over their group until his eyes landed on Feyre. His smile at the sight of her was sickeningly self-satisfied, and Nesta turned to see Feyre flush at his attention. 

“I am honored that so many handsome lords and fair maidens,” he continued, winking at Feyre, “decided to join me to welcome my court today. I don’t yet have a queen to join me in my revels, but perhaps I shall find her amongst your number today.” Nesta watched as Feyre, impossibly, flushed even deeper. She rolled her eyes.

“That is, unless you lose your heart to one of my knights.” Rhysand gestured toward the knights in front of him. “My friends! Introduce yourself to my honored guests!”

One by one, the knights stepped their horses forward, bowed to Rhysand, and called out their names. Sir Lucien. Sir Azriel. It was like they were characters out of some long-forgotten medieval tale, their names at once ancient and eternal. If those were actually their real names. Nesta doubted it. 

The green knight stepped his horse forward, and Nesta wondered if he would finally take off his helmet. He obliged Nesta’s request, and she realized, as a thick braid of lustrous blonde hair dropped on the knight’s shoulder and their face, all softness and full lips, came into view, that this knight was a woman. 

Emerie’s mouth was hanging slightly open at the sight. She leaned across Gwyn to whisper, “Nesta, I love you and I know I said I wouldn’t break the bonds of sisterhood for a wench in stays but,” she said, her eyes never leaving the armored woman, “for a wench in armor? I don’t know you.”

And then it was the red knight’s turn. He bowed slightly to acknowledge the king and said, with a small smirk, “Sir Cassian, your majesty.” 

His voice washed over Nesta, deep and husky and filled with laughter, and she hated that something in her shivered at the sound of it and the sheer power it carried. She wondered, idly if that power extended to other areas of his life.

“And there you have it, my subjects!” The king’s voice rang out again, breaking her out of her rapidly devolving reverie. “Please give a warm welcome to my loyal knights as we begin our tournament!”

The crowd burst into cheers, and the knights smiled and waved at their respective sections, which, in their turn, cheered even more loudly until the entire arena was awash in sound. 

The red knight—Sir Cassian—was looking toward where they were sitting in his section, and, at his wave, Nesta’s sisters and traitorous friends burst into renewed applause and cheers. She took a sip of her wine, pointedly not joining in.

He frowned slightly, and she raised an eyebrow in challenge, taking another drink while maintaining eye contact. He looked away, and she smiled vindictively before turning to berate Emerie and Gwyn for caving so easily.

But before she could say anything, she was interrupted by the sound of approaching hoofbeats and a deep, murmured, “My lady.”

Nesta turned, and there he was at the edge of the arena, sitting astride his giant horse and looking directly at her. He was nearly at eye level with her, even from her seat in the raised stand, and she was struck by just how tall he was. His hands, as they held his horse’s reins, looked massive as well, and she wondered, just for a moment, how they would feel spanning across her waist, her breasts, her—

She shook her head and scowled at him. “Me? No, thank you.”

He only smirked at her refusal before continuing on. “While it used to be tradition that maidens would give tokens to their favored knights before a tournament, here in the arena, it is the knights who give tokens to their ladies,” he said, pulling a red silken handkerchief out of a pocket somewhere—did suits of armor have pockets?—and held it out to her.

Nesta crossed her arms, reminded herself that he was just a guy in a tin can, and scowled. “I’m not your lady.”

“And yet, I still have a token for you.” He kept his arm outstretched and met her gaze. “Only you.”

His eyes—distractingly smudged with eyeliner—were a lovely shade of hazel, and they sparked with warmth and mirth as he looked at her. From this close, she could see that he had earrings as well—small red studs in each lobe and tiny golden hoops along his cartilage. He looked charming and wicked and roguish, and Nesta found that she couldn’t tear her gaze away—that she didn’t want to.

And, well, she was only human. Who could blame her for being interested? 

But she wouldn’t cave that easily, so she said, instead,  “Not until you earn it.”

Something flared in his eyes at the challenge, and he said, easily and certainly, “As my lady commands.” He left the red handkerchief on the table in front of Nesta and went to prepare for the tournament.

As he rode away, Feyre turned to her with a shit-eating grin. “Having fun yet, Nesta?”

“Shut up, Feyre.”

[paradox-n-bedrock]

me in big fandoms: oh cool, it's so active and there's so many people to vibe with, this is amaz-

*finds my niche angle that appeals to approximately six people*

me: okay, folks, it's you and me now

[twilightarcade]

liar. go sleepy

Im Quite Busy though

[saintobio]

sincerely yours. (12)

↳ gojou satoru/reader

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

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

tags/warnings. depression, mentions of cheating, trauma, implied suicide attempt, toxic relationships, illnesses

notes. 11k wc. finally. i wrote this with only one eye open so please don't mind the inconsistencies, i'm trying my best to tie any loose ends before we reach the ending. if the writing feels rushed, it’s bcos i’m just ready to wrap up this series 😭

series masterlist -> episode thirteen

You thought everything that had happened last night was just a dream. 

Because you had gotten used to the constant disappointments and vicissitudes of your life, sharing such domestic bliss with the person you loved had started to feel far-fetched for you. It had become an unachievable fantasy, a colorful delusion created by your mind to conceal the actual darkness of pain that surrounded it. 

But as you opened your eyes that morning, the familiar warmth of a sleeping Satoru’s embrace was the reality you never saw coming. The steady rise and fall of his chest, the comfort of his arms around you, it all felt surreal—like a fragile dream teetering on the edge of shattering. You wondered if it would be okay to stay here for now. To forget about the rest of the damn world and remain in his arms, staring at his beautiful saintly face, listening to his slow and steady heartbeat.

When Satoru stirred from his sleep, you knew your daydream was over. But he was pulling you dangerously close with arms wrapped around your frame and his lips pressed against your forehead. He was only half-awake, it seemed. His long white lashes reminded you of Sachiro’s as you watched him mumble incoherent words from his sleep, something along the lines of, ‘I’m sorry’ and ‘Akemi’. 

That was your cue to pull yourself away from him. With guilt now coursing through your body, you sat up from bed and covered your naked body with the duvet. Akemi. You had completely abandoned the thought of Akemi last night, and now you were here in bed with ‘supposedly’ her man. As much as your heart was in bliss from last night’s events, the dark and cold reality was that you slept with a man who wasn’t yours. It was a principle you told yourself you would never cross, but everything concerning Satoru Gojou seemed to be bringing you to that. 

“Satoru, hey.” Your voice almost came out as a plea as you shook his arm, your guilt eating at you with every minute that passed. “Wake up.” 

His eyelashes fluttered as he struggled to open his eyes, blinded by the sunlight that gleamed through the window as he stretched his arms and looked at you. “Y/N?” he softly whispered, a hand tenderly placed on your back as he scooted closer. “What’s wrong?” 

Slight disbelief blanketed your gaze. “You think this isn’t wrong?” 

Satoru let out a sigh of exasperation, pulling his head back, and covering his eyes with a hand as if last night’s events played through his mind scene to scene. He was obviously caught in a mindwreck thinking about the girl he had just cheated on. “It shouldn’t be,” he mumbled, “But it feels like it.”

“So you do regret it,” you laughed at your own words, internally in pain. 

“I didn’t say that.” He finally pulled himself back up, sitting as he pulled you towards him. “Y/N, if we really thought last night was wrong, we would have stopped after the first time.” He shook his head at the irony. “Look, it’s on me, alright? I put you in this situation.” 

“And I allowed it,” you argued, “I allowed it, Satoru. It makes me feel dirty. I feel like, like I’m wrecking someone else’s home. It’s not me.” 

Satoru held his breath, a look of hesitation dawning on his face as he realized that this wasn’t just a dream of his. It was pure and raw reality that he had made a mistake that he could never undo. While thinking it through, he rubbed his eyes and sat up, leaning against the headboard as he assessed the situation. Then, he looked at you, his expression softening as he spoke, “No, not your fault. It’s just complicated,” he insisted, “You didn’t do anything wrong. I’m the one who owes ‘Kemi an apology.” 

Each time you heard her nickname from him was a punch to your gut. And each silent cuss that left his lips was an arrow to your heart. So you put it on yourself to accept his reaction. “It’s okay. You can be honest and say last night was a mistake.”

“No, no, no. I didn’t say that,” he replied quickly, reaching out to take your hand. 

But you already stood up from the bed, clutching the duvet around your body like a shield against the encroaching chill. Your throat felt tight, and tears threatened to spill, but you fought to keep them at bay. Satoru’s gaze followed you with an expression of helplessness, as if he was struggling to bridge the gap between his rights and wrongs.

As you turned to face him, a knot of frustration and heartache tangled within you. “So, what now?” you asked, trying your hardest to keep your composure. “How are we gonna fix this, Satoru? How?”

Before he could answer, the door to the cabin suddenly burst open, and Akemi stood in the doorway with her eyes wide with shock and fury. The confrontation followed as soon as she caught you in a compromising position with Satoru, and the words she uttered next were ones you least expected from her. 

“You’re a hypocrite! You’ve become the person you despised the most when you were married.” 

“You’re no better than Sera! And that’s why you’re miserable, and you’ll forever be miserable! If this is your way of getting back at me..” 

“Then jokes on you, because Satoru will never be faithful to you. He’ll keep cheating on you, just like he did now with me! You two belong in that cycle!”

You felt like an outsider in your own heartbreak, the confrontation intensifying as you tried to process the bitter truth in silence. All you could do was stand there and cry. Even Satoru’s attempts to placate Akemi were futile as her anger only seemed to grow. The more her eyes danced back and forth between you and her lover, the more she wanted to destroy everything in her path.

Satoru’s face was indiscernible from where you stood. “Akemi, please, just listen—”

Akemi, however, was already turning on her heel and storming back into her cabin while eliciting loud, muffled sobs. Your chest tightened with sorrow and shame. Complete, utter shame of doing this to another woman. How could you even correct a situation like this? How could you pick yourself back up after you just trampled on another woman’s feelings because of your actions?

Satoru, like you, hesitated on his next move, his eyes meeting yours with a look of anguish. “I need to talk to her, Y/N. I’ll be back.”

Without waiting for your response, he already bolted after her, leaving you alone in a quiet, pathetic state. The door slammed behind him, the sound reverberating through the cabin like thunder in a heavy storm.

You didn’t know what to do, didn’t know how to face everyone, didn’t have the guts to even talk to Shoko and Suguru who now both have to deal with such scandals. You were too ashamed of yourself, as if your femininity had been stripped off its rights after you slept with the man you swore you would never get back with. 

“I didn’t mean it,” you could only silently whisper your laments, pacing around your cabin while swallowing the weakness that tried to escape. “I hate this.” 

The minutes dragged on, and each second stretched into an eternity as you waited for Satoru’s return. For now, you sat down heavily on the edge of the bed, wondering what excuse he was telling Akemi, and what actions he would do to try and calm her down. Did he kiss her, perhaps? Did he cup her face and tell her that you were nothing but a mistake? What was taking him so long? Or were they doing things to try and erase the same deeds you two did last night? 

The cacophony of voices and commotion from outside the cabin grew louder, and your curiosity led you to open your door, meeting the eyes of one of the hotel staff who sent you a look full of judgment. 

“Where’s…” you hesitated if she was the right person to ask, “Where’s Satoru? Would you know?” 

“Oh, ma’am. He already left the hotel half an hour ago… with Miss Akemi.” 

Her answer hit you hard like a truck on a highway. And your heart dropped as you realized who became The Fool in these deck of cards. Satoru had not only run off after Akemi, but had also left you behind without a word. 

The room felt colder now, the once-intimate sanctuary you shared with your ex-husband now a prison of your own grief. Even the familiar warmth of the bed seemed like a distant memory as you approached it, your body trembling as you thought of how you were treated like a dirty rag, thrown away after being used over and over again. 

With a soft, choked sob, you collapsed onto the bed, the duvet still a tangled mess from earlier. And your emotions, so tightly restrained, finally broke free. You pulled the blanket around you as if it could shield you from the crushing pain. The betrayal, the sense of being discarded for another—it all converged into a torrent of anguish. All you could do was cling to the duvet as if it were the only anchor in a stormy sea. 

——

Returning home didn’t make the situation any better. 

Although you tried to tell yourself that you shouldn’t be waiting on Satoru to contact you, you still found yourself checking your phone multiple times a day. Each second that passed without hearing from him was another stab to your heart. But it shouldn’t feel like that. It shouldn’t, not when Satoru clearly made his choice of choosing yet another woman over you. 

Of course, you knew what you did was wrong. In everyone’s eyes, sleeping with someone else’s man was unforgivable. There was no excuse, no way to justify your actions. Even if some people might side with you, saying you owed no one loyalty, it didn’t change how you felt about the whole situation. And that was because you remembered all too well the pain of being cheated on, and letting another woman endure the same heartbreak and betrayal was a weight on your conscience that you couldn’t ignore.

Sighing, you turned to the left side of the bed and saw Sachiro sleeping peacefully, clutching his favorite starfish plushie in his tiny arms. The thought of losing your son was unbearable, especially when he was your only source of calm amid the chaos that surrounded you. Caring for him was your solace, and his innocent presence served as a band-aid for your wounded heart. The most heart-wrenching part of this was knowing you couldn’t even repay him for the stability he brought you. Sachiro deserved a complete family to enrich his life, yet you—as his own biological mother—were unable to give him that. 

“Sleep tight, Sachi.” You lightly stroked his white hair before planting a soft kiss on his cheek. “Don’t let the bed bugs bite.”

The past few weeks had been a blur of emotions, work, and parenting—with each day blending into the next like a tornado of dull colors. You still hadn’t heard from Satoru, but the days of waiting and checking your phone for any notification from him did gradually stop. The only thing that didn’t stop replaying in your head like a broken record was the cabin incident, the very night that drew all these overthinking in your mind and in your heart. 

Returning to work did provide some distraction, but it didn’t take away the sting. It also didn’t help that your staff noticed the change in your demeanor, and how distracted you often were during your meetings and warehouse visits. Even Nobara was worried about how absentminded you had become, but you brushed off all their concerns with a forced smile. After all, staying at home would do you worse than being at work. 

Now, you were back in your office, and the soft knock on the door cut you off from your trance. It was Yuki peeking through the small opening on your door, her usual professional demeanor softened by a concerned expression. “Hey, Y/N. Do you have a minute?” she asked, stepping inside and closing the door behind her with a quiet click. 

You nodded, trying to muster a smile. “Sure, Yuki. What’s up?”

“I wanted to check in on you,” she began, taking a seat opposite your desk, “If you need to extend your vacation, please, by all means, go ahead. It’s off-season, anyway. I’ll take care of everything here while you’re focusing on yourself.”

That wasn’t really a good idea. And you shouldn’t be slacking off work when this very fashion house you establish used to be your passion, not your job. Yet here you were, losing all the inspiration to even run a business. “I don’t know if I have the energy for anything else right now.”

“Well, if you’re too worried about leaving work,” Yuki continued, her tone shifting to a more business-like note, “the progress we’ve made with Hearte is looking really promising. The new collection is getting great feedback, and our upcoming showcase is shaping up well. We’re on track for a strong quarter.”

“All because of you, Yuki.” A spark of gratitude appeared on your face. “Thanks for the update. It’s good to know things are moving in the right direction.”

She then stood up and gave you a reassuring smile. “I’m here if you need anything, Y/N. But seriously, take some time for yourself. You deserve it.”

On that same evening, you came home to your father’s mansion, and the first thing that greeted you when you entered the foyer was Gen sitting by the living room. And needless to say, her expression was a mix of concern and frustration as if she had been waiting for you to return. You weren’t really in the mood to have some back-and-forths with her, but you also didn’t like how she dropped her phone on the table and crossed her arms, her eyes narrowing at you like she was a mother who could scold you like a child.

“I’m not even gonna say anything at this point, but did you really do it with him?” Gen’s voice was low, but the disappointment was palpable. You could feel it from a few meters away. 

“What are you talking about?” you bit back, your already-terrible mood swings shifting into an unhealthy direction. 

Gen responded by pointing at her phone, gesturing for you to take a look at whatever’s on it. Reluctantly, you grabbed the device, and as you were scrolling through the screen, you stumbled upon a blind item circulating on social media. The words were vague but pointed, hinting at a scandalous encounter between two ex-spouses, both of whom were well-known figures. Great. Your heart stopped as you realized that the article was very much about you and Gojou. 

The online comments were brutal, not like you weren’t used to anonymous harassment anyway, but these ones were full of speculating and judging without knowing the full story. Everyone also seemed to be siding with “Ms. A” instead of you as though the person behind the article was clearly trying to paint you as the villain. It was written for the purpose of destroying your reputation rather than any regular exposé, and whoever wrote it was definitely someone who disliked you. 

Your shoulders slumped as you scrolled through hate comment after hate comment, a seemingly endless vitriol for someone they didn’t even know, and avoided your sister’s gaze knowing full well that seeing her expression would only make you feel worse. 

“Is it true?” your sister asked like there was even an ounce of chance that it was simply a rumor. Unfortunately, it was anything but. 

Sliding her phone back on the coffee table, you drew in a deep breath. “I can’t undo it, Gen. It happened.” 

“So, you did sleep with him? Am I hearing this right?” Gen sighed, rubbing her temples. “Do you have any idea what this could do to you? To Sachiro? People are ruthless, and now this blind item is all over the place and they’re targeting you like a punching bag!”

Your mouth felt heavy, as if it was weighed down by an invisible burden, making it difficult to form words or speak. And before you could think of a response, Ian became your temporary savior as he walked in with a calm but serious mien. “I’ve seen the post,” he said, holding up his phone. “It’s clearly defamatory, and we can take legal action. I’ll handle it.”

Even though Ian was a man of remarkable phlegm, you remained abashed, knowing that everyone’s feasting at the juicy rumor that you slept with your ex-husband. Yet, the only thing you could do was to put on a front. To save face. To act like someone you’re not. “Thank you, Ian. I’d appreciate that.”

Anticipating another lecture from Gen about Satoru, you began retreating to your room with your footsteps bouncing desperately on the grand staircase. This conversation was done. You just weren’t there to hear it anymore. However, as you climbed the stairs with a vacant mind, you could still hear your sister calling out to you.

“Y/N!” she called, her voice now tinged with concern. “I’m not going to give you a hard time. We can sort this issue out. Maturely.”

“I’m good.” Sorry, Gen. It was the anxious-avoidant side of you speaking. You didn’t want to discuss such a sensitive situation to anyone, even with your sister, because you weren’t ready to face all the negativity it would put you through. You were already dealing with enough, and going through yet another emotional turmoil might actually put you to your deathbed at this point. 

So, for now, isolating yourself from the world was the best choice. 

And as soon as you entered your room, you saw Sachiro’s nanny tucking him into bed. All your worries and self-destructive thoughts vanished in an instant the moment you looked at your son. It was like the heavens gave you your personal angel, a cute little cherub who brought nothing but light and happiness to your life. He was your sunshine, your shooting star, your bundle of joy. Nothing in this world could erase the pessimist in you than little Sachiro. 

“I got it from here.” You thanked the nanny and asked her to close the door before quickly joining your son in bed, wrapping him in a warm, comforting hug—more for your own comfort than his.

“Mama?” he asked, his voice unusually raspy, and his chest rising and falling heavily. “I mwiss you, mama!”

You pressed your lips onto his forehead. “I miss you too, my baby. How was daycare today?”

He seemed to struggle to speak too, but Sachiro still did his best to recount his day while he was trying to catch air in between his sentences. “Teacher ask Sachi to go home, mama. Sachi is tired.”

“Baby, are you okay? Are you sick?” Now, your motherly instincts kicked in immediately. You could tell something was wrong, so you reached for a thermometer from the bedside drawer to check his temperature, and listened to his breathing at the same time. “What happened to Sachi? Do you want Mommy to take you to the hospital?”

Sachiro shook his head and gave you a sleepy smile. “No, mama. Sachi is just sweepy.”

When the thermometer beeped, you were relieved to see that his temperature was normal. “Are you having trouble breathing, my sweetheart?” You looked into his droopy eyes and gently placed your hand on his chest. 

Once again, Sachiro shook his head. Maybe you were just overthinking. He often ran around the house or played in the bathtub before bed, which could explain why he seemed out of breath. It wasn’t the first time it happened. 

“Okay, Sachi. Go to sleep now. Close your eyes, baby.”

“Night night, mama.”

For now, you turned off the night lamp, and headed to the bathroom in silent and careful steps. It was quiet enough indeed, but in your head was an awful noise you couldn’t escape. And stepping into the shower only increased the warfare in your mind, as it immediately brought images of Satoru and Akemi back in the cabin, the harsh comments from the article, and the lack of contact from your ex-husband which all overwhelmed you at once. By now, he would have already seen that article. Nanami or Miwa might have already alerted him about it. But the fact that he said nothing, the fact that he let the public scrutinize you, destroy you with such vile, hurtful words behind their screens brought you a kind of pain that you wouldn’t wish upon anyone else. 

Because if it was Akemi in that position, he would have defended her in a heartbeat. 

So in your silence, under the cascading water of the shower, you let the tears flow—its warmth distinguishable compared to the cold droplets falling on you. If only you had successfully drowned yourself that night at the lake. If only Satoru didn’t pull you back in, none of this would have happened. 

That moment was deeply poignant to you, and you saw him in a new light you thought you would never see again because of the darkness of your past. Yet, with the events that followed your special moment, memories eventually turned into spite. Your sweet exchange twisted into something bitter. Looking back at that time when he kissed you at the lake now made you feel nauseous and hollow inside, with bile forming on your throat and threatening to be retched. 

The most gut-wrenching part about this was the fact that there wasn’t anyone left who could rescue you from this abyss of heartache anymore. 

——

There had been a sense of detachment in your emotions in the following days that passed, almost as though they belonged to a stranger inhabiting your body. Toji, the only person who comforted you at times like these, was no longer by your side to fulfill the warmth you once desperately sought, and now you were alone to face this cruel, mind-numbing battle all by yourself. It was you against the world. You against the entire populace inhabiting this living hell. And with that many enemies against one, how could you win? 

It was quite funny, actually, that your humor took a surprising turn when you thought of how Sera must have felt when it was revealed to the public that she was Satoru’s mistress. The irony didn’t even stop at your thoughts alone, it manifested itself outside Hearte’s headquarters, wearing a pink puffer jacket and a white prairie skirt. 

“Sera?” you blurted out her name in wonder, nonplussed as you got out of the car to approach her.

“Hey, Y/N.” She offered a casual smile while carrying an air of sophistication around her. That wasn’t the only thing that changed about Sera. Her hair was also shorter than the last you saw her, her face now sporting a more natural makeup, and her outfit a more modest yet classy choice. It was no longer the Sera who tried hard to fit in amongst the upper echelon of society, but a Sera who seemed to be satisfied at her current standing in life. 

What an awkward encounter. Was her presence your hypocritical reminder for sleeping with Satoru behind Akemi’s back? 

“What are you doing here?” you asked. 

And she answered with, “I read about what happened. You know, the thing on the internet.” She took a moment to pause, probably trying to choose the right words to say to her previous adversary. Because in a way, you two weren’t exactly friends. And you were no longer rivals either. Satoru was the only common denominator here, and Sera proved her exact sentiments about him by saying, “I just wanted to let you know that I understand your side. It’s a tough situation.”

You looked at her, searching for any hint of insincerity, but found none. “You were once on my spot,” you pointed out and gauged whether or not she would take the bait. For all you know, she could be putting on an act. “I’m assuming you’re here to rub it in my face how much of a hypocrite I am.” 

“No, that’s not it.” Sera was vehemently denying any malice on her intentions, and was instead trying to show you the sympathy of a woman who was once caught in the same predicament. “Look, I know it’s weird that I’m here out of all people. But the truth is, I just had to let you know that someone’s on your side. I’ve met the girl, okay? That… whoever she is. I don’t remember her name, and I hate having to pit two women against each other, but I’m telling you it’s about time you cut Satoru off your life. Completely. She doesn’t look like someone who’d easily let go. You’re just gonna suffer, Y/N.” 

Perhaps three years was too far back in your life and that tables could turn in a direction that you didn’t expect, as you could recall fragments of memories from when your only dilemma was dealing with Satoru and Sera in your marriage. She used to be besotted with your ex-husband back then. But now, it wasn’t until you heard the way she spoke about him that you realized she must be harboring a grudge deeper than you had imagined. After all, he did ruin her life in ways you couldn’t imagine. And her advice, though unsolicited, made sense. Because you could understand where she was going with it. You could see the true intentions clearly conveyed by her face.

The only problem here was that you didn’t have it in your heart to agree with her. You were too much of an empathic person to be taking sides, even if the supposed villain in this painting was the ex-husband who, time and time again, hurt you. Your heart stubbornly cared for Satoru deep down, and your wifely instinct of defending him no matter how poorly he acted had always been there. No one could hate Satoru more than you did, that was true, but you also weren’t very accepting of hearing others describe him as this ruthless, cheating bastard. 

That was the reason why talking to Gen had eventually exhausted you. Because no one knew the real Satoru Gojou behind his facade of an irresponsible and reckless husband. 

“Now that you’re here…” The idea to redirect the conversation to another topic struck you, unwilling to engage in a conversation that pushed Satoru in a bad light. “Would you be interested in being a model for our upcoming campaign? We’re launching a new collection, and I think you’d be perfect.”

Sera’s eyes were an amalgam of confusion and surprise. “Uh, I mean… I’d love to, but why so sudden?” 

“You have the face for it.” You shrugged, but still sent a smile her way. “Are you working right now? If not, this could open doors for you to be discovered by modeling agencies. I’m closely tied with them since I work in the fashion industry, so I can do a few calls if you want.” 

“Hold on, I’m—” Sera touched her head, laughing as if she were dreaming this conversation. “Y/N, you’re doing too much here. I mean, I’d obviously love that, but wouldn’t it be awkward? People know me as your ex-husband’s mistress, and if they recognize me in Hearte ads, I’m sure as hell those fuck ass netizens won’t stop talking about it.”

She had a point, a very good point, but then again, your suggestion was only brought up because you had to change the topic. “Well, it’s just an offer to consider in the future.” 

“And I appreciate you always extending a hand to help me even if I did you wrong in the past,” she said, feelings of shame lacing her voice. “I haven’t forgotten about what you did for my brother, that’s why I’m here. I’m not your enemy anymore, Y/N.”

Just then, the roaring engine of a classic red Ferrari pulled up to the curb, interrupting the unexpected conversation you were having with your ex-husband’s former mistress. The window rolled down to reveal a pink-haired man whom you recognized as Ryomen Sukuna, an up and coming tech mogul, that Toji had mentioned about many times before. His eyes were only on one woman alone, and it wasn’t you. “Ready to go, babe?”

Honestly, good for Sera. No wonder her aura had become different. They seemed to be in a stable committed relationship, something that you could only ever dream about. If karma was truly real, this was the perfect example for it. 

In the back seat, you spotted a younger boy who looked exactly like Sukuna and, surprisingly, Megumi, the son of your ex-fiancé. Really? How many more people were you going to ‘coincidentally’ run into today? 

“Hello, miss!” the other boy called out cheerfully, while Megumi offered a polite nod. You replied with a wave, feeling a small sense of normalcy in their innocent presence.

“I gotta get going, Y/N,” excused Sera, gesturing a civil goodbye. 

But as she moved to get into the car, your phone buzzed in your pocket. A single glance at the screen made your heart drop. It was a call from the hospital.

“Hello?” you answered almost immediately, pressing the phone on your ears with a tight push.

“Ms. Y/N, this is the hospital. Your son, Sachiro Gojou, is in the ICU. We need you to come as soon as possible.”

Your stomach contracted into a tight ball as you stood rigid with terror. Then and there, the world seemed to tilt on its axis. “Wh-What do you mean he’s in the hospital?!” you managed to shout, swept by horripilation from the sudden news. “What happened to my son?! What’s—!” 

Sera’s concerned gaze met yours as you desperately yelled into the phone, hyperventilating. Your trembling hand was threatening to drop the phone. “Y/N, is everything okay?”

“My son… I… he…,” you stammered, your voice shaky with fear and urgency. Your muscles locked in a momentary paralysis, eyes wide with astonishment, and surprise rendering you immobile. The thought of Sachiro in a critical state was about to make you faint, with the last bits of images you saw that afternoon were of Sera and her boyfriend rushing to catch you from completely falling to the ground. 

——

Megumi didn’t know how to deliver the bad news. 

He came home after Yuuji’s brother rushed you to the hospital, shocked by everything that happened in a span of a single day. His mind was aching from all the thinking he was doing; praying that little Sachiro will be fine, hoping that you would stay strong throughout, and lastly, wondering how he would break it to his dad that something terrible had happened. 

His father wasn’t exactly the greatest man to tread this Earth, especially not after the drunken words he had ‘mistakenly’ uttered to you that night in Miami that resulted in your separation. Yes, Megumi knew every word and detail. His father told him everything just as a sober man would. Did you really think that the Toji Zen’in you knew would sputter that utter nonsense to you? That you had an empty soul. That he couldn’t be with someone like you. That you would forever be a placeholder to Megumi’s mother. Bullshit. None of those were true. His father told him that the reason he had to say those words, as piercing and trenchant as they may be, was because it was the only way he could free you from being caged in a relationship your heart didn’t genuinely want. 

It was Toji’s last resort to hurt you with his words, hoping that you would wake up from your false fantasy and finally have a reason to leave a relationship with a man that wasn’t Satoru Gojou. If Megumi’s father wasn’t at the top of the list of Forbes’ richest men in Japan, he would have felt a great deal of inferiority complex over a younger man like Gojou. Not because of his looks and his riches, but because he had you. No matter what Satoru did, no matter how many times he hurt you, he was and would always be that man you wanted to be with. 

Sighing, Megumi’s first task upon coming home was to check on his father’s room, only to find the dark room void of its owner. When he made his way down the grand staircase, he met an ill-spirited Naoya who was ranting to Mai about Sera flaunting Sukuna in front of his face. Megumi’s sigh was then followed by another. The drama in this house was relentless. He felt like he was exhaling endlessly, like a malfunctioning appliance. 

“Where’s dad?” asked Megumi, directing her question to a more rational Maki. 

The tall, green-haired girl gave him a knowing shrug. “You already know,” she said, “Drowning himself in alcohol down at the bar.” 

As always. 

Megumi jogged around the estate to eventually find his father at one of the wet bars near his home office. He was there, seated on a stool, his head drooping low with a glass of premium scotch in hand. How many glasses he’d had, Megumi could only hope the numbers weren't that high. But upon approaching his father, his presence was barely acknowledged as he sat on the stool next to him, suggesting that the grown man might be more inebriated than his son had expected.

“Dad,” spoke the Zen’in heir, “Dad, you good?” 

Toji lifted his head up, three sheets to the wind, as a smile crept up on his scarred lips. “Son.” 

“Let me take that.” Megumi grabbed a hold of the glass of scotch, sliding the strong liquor away from his father. “There’s something I ought to tell you.” 

Toji stayed nonchalant, sitting upright and tapping his fingers on the counter. “What’s it about this time?” he asked. “I’ve told you, I can’t stop the elders from arranging your marriage unless you’re honest with me about someone you like. I know you have someone in mind, but you’re not saying who. Are you just shy?”

Megumi gave his father a look of exasperation. He’s rambling, he thought, frustrated with his father’s inebriated chattering. “It’s not about that. It’s about Y/N-san.”

The mention of your name was the only thing that made Toji's demeanor shift to one of genuine concern. “What happened?”

“Sachi’s in a critical condition,” the younger Zen’in went straight to the point, “Y/N-san went manic over it and fainted before we could get her to the hospital.”

Toji was quick to grab his coat and car keys, as if all the alcohol in his system had immediately evaporated. But before he could leave, Megumi caught his father’s arm and pulled him back. 

“What?” said Toji, concern and urgency blanketing his gaze. “I need to be with her.” 

“Do you really need to?” Megumi countered. “Dad, I know it’s not right for me to stop you in this crucial situation, but are you gonna do this every time she’s in trouble? Do you plan to do this forever? Do you plan to keep drowning yourself in alcohol thinking about her? We care for her like family, that’s true, but you and her aren’t a thing anymore. Your responsibilities in taking care of her should stop, too. You, yourself, said it’d be best if she stopped being reliant on you. Now, do yourself a favor and stop trying to be this pathetic superhero.” 

The concern etching on Tojis’s face softened into a sense of realization, a sense of candidness that only someone as straightforward as his own son could evoke. Megumi had to, not because he didn’t care for you anymore, but because he had to ensure he wouldn’t lose his father over a relationship that had already ended. Toji was the only real family Megumi had left. 

“Stay, dad,” he pleaded, “Please.”

Toji took a deep breath and released it in the same second. “Okay,” he softly said, ruffling his son’s hair. “I won’t leave.” 

——

Why is it that you keep attracting things, places, and people that you disliked the most? 

You hated hospitals, and you had spoken about it enough to make it clear how much you dreaded going to a place where your worst memories had taken root. Yet, the sterile environment seemed to beckon you, dragging you back with a new nightmare each time. It was beyond your worst fears that you would find yourself racing through the halls mere minutes after regaining consciousness, desperately trying to reach where your son was.

Please be okay. Please be okay. 

Frantically, you scanned the corridors, searching for the ICU and hoping that what you had just heard was nothing more than a cruel illusion, that this was all just a nightmare. You weren’t a deeply devout person, but you did send prayers to every saint you could think of, hoping that Sachiro’s current state wasn’t in the median between life and death. 

Because if you lost your son, then there was no point in living anymore. This life wouldn’t be worth enduring. 

“Y/N!”

You weren’t the first one to arrive outside the pediatric ICU, with Gen and your father already being there moments before you came. You were struggling to breathe by the time you reached them, feeling your heart race with a thunderous beat. “Gen… Dad, what h-happened to him?” You couldn’t stop the weakness in your voice. “Tell me he’s fine, please. Please. My baby. If anything h-happens to him, I’m g-gonna die, Gen! I c-can’t h-have that!”

Gen quickly enveloped you in a tight embrace, trying to offer any form of comfort she could. “I’m so sorry, Y/N. Dad and I are just as shocked.” She held you closer, her voice trembling as she, too, was just as anxious as you. “Sachi refused to eat and complained about having a hard time breathing. He was so pale and his lips were blue. We knew we had to rush him to the hospital immediately.”

“Oh my God.” Your hand flew to your mouth, trying to stifle the uncontrollable cries that were escaping. The news of Sachiro developing cyanosis shattered your heart, and the crushing reality that you weren’t there to take care of him tore you apart. “My baby, no. No, no. H-He—”

“Y/N!” 

Out of breath and also visibly shaken was the father of your son, Satoru, who came running to your side the moment his eyes landed on you. Behind him was his mother, clutching a rosary in her hand as both of them were seemingly shell-shocked in the same magnitude as you and your family were. Everyone cared for Sachiro’s well-being, everyone prayed for his safety, and the thought of losing an angel like your son was a soul-crushing thought that sent you slipping into a chasm of suffering.  

“Wh-What happened to Sachi?” Satoru asked in desperation, his question raised to everyone in the vicinity—you, your family, the nurses. But no one could give him a decent answer. “Please, tell me my son’s alright. Tell me.” 

You watched him walk in circles, raking his fingers through his hair as if he was seeking anything to hold onto. And you, feeling that magnet that pulled you closer to him, broke away from Gen’s embrace to look at your son’s father. “Satoru…” 

“Y/N,” his voice cracked as he met your gaze, “Our son.” He stopped, ready to wrap you in a hug—a moment of solace you both desperately needed in this critical time. But just as he pulled you close in a fragile attempt to find comfort together, the door to the ICU swung open, abruptly ending the brief respite.

All of you immediately rushed over to the doctor, the sterile white walls and the distant hum of hospital machinery did nothing to calm the turmoil inside you. 

“Doctor, how’s he?” 

“How’s my grandson, doc?”

“Doc, my son, is he okay?” 

“Is he stable, doc?” 

“Doctor, how’s my son, please?” you asked, your body growing tense to the point of shaking.

The doctor took a deep breath, his expression serious amidst the fusillade of questions thrown at him. “We’re currently running a series of tests on the patient. We suspect Sachiro may have congenital heart disease, specifically a ventricular septal defect with associated pulmonary hypertension.”

No, it can’t be. It’s not possible! The words hit you like a punch to the gut. You struggled to process the information, your vision blurring with tears and your heart drumming a rapid staccato inside. You didn’t need to look at everyone to know that they all, for a moment, looked at you. “Heart disease? But… how? I didn’t think—”

“Can you explain more, doc? Please.” Gojou was desperate, his bright blue eyes now dull and severely clouded with a brewing storm. It was as if he was keeping himself from crying.

The doctor continued gently, “VSD is a condition where there’s a hole in the heart’s ventricular septum. It can lead to pulmonary hypertension, which means the blood pressure in the lungs is elevated. It’s a serious condition, but we’re doing everything we can to assess the extent and provide the best treatment.”

“N-No, oh God. My baby.” You felt your knees go weak, and you sank down against the wall, with more tears cascading down your cheeks like waterfall. The weight of the diagnosis was crushing, but the hardest part was realizing that this was something you had unknowingly passed on to Sachiro. The heart disease was inherited from you and had now manifested in your beloved son.

It’s my fault. It’s my fault! 

The doctor placed a reassuring hand on your shoulder. “We’ll keep you updated as soon as we have more information. Please, try to stay calm, Y/N. It’s not best for your heart to panic right now. Sachiro is in good hands.”

You were unable to speak through the sobs that wracked your body. The hospital corridor felt endless, and you couldn’t shake the feeling of guilt and helplessness that consumed you. You could feel all eyes on you, judging, harboring hatred, carrying deep-rooted resentment. You were torn apart by the knowledge that the very thing you had feared most was now a reality for your son.

“It’s… It’s my fault,” you sobbed, covering your face with your quivering hands, “This is all my fault. I gave it to Sachiro, I… I’m a terrible mother!” 

Gen knelt beside you, her hands gripping your shoulders with a firm yet gentle touch. “Y/N, stop it. This is not your fault. You didn’t choose this for Sachiro.”

Your father, who had been pacing anxiously nearby, joined in. “Your sister’s right. You’re blaming yourself for something beyond your control. We’re all here for you. We’ll figure this out.”

But amidst your familial exchange, Satoru stood nearby, frozen and listless. His silence only added to the overwhelming distress. Was he also blaming you for what Sachiro was going through right now? Was he also angry at you for putting his son into this critical situation? 

Suddenly, a familiar voice cut through the commotion—voice that was equally harsh and spiteful. It was Satoru’s mother, boring her fiery eyes into your skull as she opened her mouth. “That’s right! You’re self-aware, aren’t you?” she spat and stood rigidly, arms crossed defensively over her chest. “This is all your fault. You’re such an irresponsible mother! You can’t even take care of my grandson properly, and now you’ve passed your disease onto him!”

You looked up in shock, seeing Satoru’s mother standing there with a disdainful expression. The sting of her words felt like a knife twisting in your heart, because they were true. They were painful, yes, but they were true. And all you could do was lower yourself until you were sitting on your haunches, trying to make yourself as small as possible. 

“Excuse me?!” Gen stood up, her eyes blazing with anger that came from the deepest pits of hell. “You’re unbelievable, Auntie. How dare you speak to my sister like that! You have no right to blame her for this. I hope to God it was you in the ICU right now instead of Sachiro!”

“You…!” 

Satoru’s mother raised a hand to slap Gen, but your father stepped forward, his face a mix of disbelief and indignation. “This is despicable. How can you stand here and say such things to someone who’s already suffering? Weren’t you friends with my wife once?”

Satoru, who had been standing still, suddenly moved with a menacing calm. His face was hard as stone, and his eyes narrowed in anger. What was scarier was him approaching his mother with a threatening stance. “Are you really this pathetic, mother?” Satoru questioned with a cold, cutting tone. “Do you get off on making Y/N suffer? Do you think you’ve gotten away with slapping her behind my back? You don’t get to blame Y/N for anything. Any fucking thing!”

His mother’s eyes widened in shock, but she tried to defend herself at the ruthless stance her son was carrying. All of you were stunned at the realization of how Satoru resembled his cruel father at that moment. “B-But Satoru, my son—”

“Shut up!” Satoru cut her off, his voice harsh and unforgiving, before he threw his cold knuckles against the hard surface of the concrete wall. “I don’t want to see your face ever again! Don’t consider yourself my mother any longer, you witch. You’ve lost that privilege.”

This took a wild turn, and hearing the brutality of Satoru’s words was like a thunderclap in the tense atmosphere. His mother’s face turned pale, her mouth opening and closing in shock as she struggled to respond.

“Get out of here,” Satoru commanded, his voice uncaring towards her. “Leave, and don’t ever come back. You’re nobody to me now.”

With that, Satoru’s mother turned and fled, stumbling down the corridor as if she was the victim in this situation. However, the tension in the air began to dissipate as soon as she left, leaving you, Satoru, Gen, and your father in a heavy silence. Only your sniffles could be heard. 

Even Gen, who was often hostile around your ex-husband, had remained quiet and composed after she watched him take such drastic measures to keep his mother away.

Everyone was silent. Pure, unbothered silence until Satoru’s phone began to buzz loudly, cutting through the stillness of the hallway. For a moment, he closed his eyes, then he fished his phone out of his pocket where you caught a glimpse of the caller ID. 

Akemi. 

——

The ICU only allowed short visits and one person at a time, so there was no need for everyone to stay the night. You were the parent, you were the one responsible for your son’s situation, so you insisted it was best for your dad and Gen to go home and get some rest. You didn’t mind watching over your son for the whole night, because coming home without him was the last thing you would do right now.

My precious angel.

Sachiro lay in the hospital bed, his small chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm. The doctors had managed to stabilize him for now, and the sight of his heart monitor showing a stable rhythm was a small comfort amidst the chaos.

Still, you sat by his bedside, mindful of your timed visit as your hands gently held his tiny ones, feeling the warmth of his small fingers. You glanced down at the medical report on your other hand, trying to make sense of the complex terms and figures.

The words blurred together as your tears fell silently onto the paper. “I’m sorry, baby.” He didn’t deserve this. He’s just a baby. “Mommy’s very sorry.”

You tried to stay strong, putting on a brave face for your son, but inside, you were falling apart. It was impossible not to blame yourself over this, wishing you could do more than just be present around him. This was the comeuppance of your own actions after you focused on your own emotions for the past few weeks to the point of neglecting your son’s wellbeing. If you had been more present in his life, if you had been more observant, you would have easily noticed the signs. Now, you allowed Satoru to find a flaw in your duty as a mother, and he could cite this very event as evidence to get full custody of him. That is, if he were to ever consider taking your son away from you. 

But in the first place, he should be the last person to do that, because where exactly was he now? 

Your thoughts kept drifting back to the earlier scene, where he excused to answer Akemi’s call, and later that night told you he had to leave and “check something” urgently. He promised he’d be back before midnight, but where was he? 

Resentment began to fester within you.

You had been very perceptive of Akemi’s feelings, apologetic in the way you supposedly betrayed her, but the fact that she was still scrambling for Satoru’s attention in the midst of your son’s hospitalization was something you could never forgive her for. 

And as for Sachiro’s father, how could he prioritize another woman when his own son was in such a critical state? The confusion of his actions was overwhelming. It felt like a cruel deja vu that, at a time when you needed him the most, he was choosing to be elsewhere. You could accept it if it was a choice between you and another woman, but between his son and her? His behavior was unacceptable, disgusting even, and it only served to deepen your grudge against him.

You clenched your fists, trying to push away the surge of anger that threatened to consume you after seeing that the disparity in his actions felt like both a betrayal and a slap to the face. Your poor son. You stared at Sachiro’s peaceful face and stroked his cheek. How could Satoru be so indifferent to his own flesh and blood?

The room was silent except for the soft beeping of the heart monitor and your quiet sobs. The situation was almost too much to bear, and your resentment towards Gojou grew heavier by the second. Each minute felt like a lifetime, and the emptiness left by his absence was a constant reminder that yet again he chose another woman over his own family.

It’s okay. You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. I won’t leave you, Sachi. For Sachiro’s sake, you needed to find the strength to carry on, to be the mother he needed in this moment of crisis and never again failing to be there for your only child. 

At exactly 10:30 pm, the nurse came in and told you visiting hours were over. You complied. 

At 11:00 pm, Ian paid you a quick visit and talked to the nurses, perhaps giving them reminders to look after you. 

At 12:00 am, you were alone again. Seated at one of the benches outside the ICU—sleepless, starving, and nauseous. 

At 2:00 am, you remained in your seat despite the sterile smell of antiseptic mingling with your own discomfort. The flickering fluorescent lights above did little to help you get some proper sleep. The cold air-conditioning alao made you shiver slightly, hugging your own body to try and give yourself some warmth. 

At 4:00 am, you awakened from the noise of the movements beside you. Realizing you had fallen asleep, you looked up and saw Satoru taking a seat to your left. His coat was draped over his arm, and he offered it to you.

“Are you cold?” he asked, his voice softer than usual, but you could see the bags under his eyes suggesting the sleepless nights he’d had for the past few days. “You can use my coat.”

You took the coat, but as you caught a whiff of it, a familiar scent of Akemi’s perfume lingered. Rose Prick by Tom Ford. It was a scent you’d come to recognize after your years of being her best friend, and it made your stomach turn slightly. Without any hesitation, you handed the coat back to him. “No, thank you. I’m fine,” you replied, avoiding his gaze. Looking into his eyes was the last thing you would do. 

And you knew Satoru was sighing, but didn’t press the issue. “The nurse mentioned you haven’t eaten today.” He pulled out a small bag of assorted fruits, placing it gently on the seat between you. You eyed the offerings, feeling a pang of hunger but also a strange aversion. “I bought some fruit. Is there anything you like?”

You took a deep breath and broke the silence with a hint of sarcasm. “You’re really good at this, huh?”

“At what?” was his immediate question, puzzled.

“Hitting two birds with one stone.”

“Y/N…”

“Stop trying to take care of me,” you interrupted, your tone sharper than intended. “ I don’t need it.”

“But—”

You swallowed the lump in your throat. “You can’t even be here for Sachi. You can’t even choose your son. He’s in a life and death situation and we’re still only receiving scraps of your attention.” It was the deep-seated grudge spilling out of you. “You’re so good at abandoning people, huh? Even though that’s what you hate the most. You’re so good at disappearing without even a text or call to check on me and our son. After that night at the cabin, you just…” you paused, realizing that you were opening too much of your heart to a man who didn’t deserve it. “Forget it. Just go home to Akemi. Live a happy life, build a family with her. Forget us. I don’t care. I’ll take care of Sachiro myself. I’ve done it for three years!”

“Y/N, I’m not trying to hurt you. I just…” Satoru fumbled for words, his somber blue eyes bearing the history of your shared heartbreak. It was as though the painful memories of your past were flooding his thoughts, seeking justification as to why he couldn’t pick you again this time. “I had to be there for her. She’s…”

You turned away before he could see your expression, because your heart was splintering at the thought of Satoru Gojou shattering it once more. As he always did. There seemed to be no end to this relentless heartbreak, as if any hope of a happy ever after with the man you loved would only return a pain that was a hundred times worse. Perhaps, this was destiny’s way of telling you that you and him weren’t meant to be. That any wishful thinking of being with Satoru again was only something that you could expect in another universe.

So, in your defense, you had to pull on a facade. A mask that you had to wear in the face of being the target of never-ending despair. “Satoru, I don’t want to talk about it,” you said firmly, concealing the raw ache in your voice with a smile. “And I don’t expect you to choose me every time. It’s okay. It’s happened before.”

“Can’t you see I’m hurting, too?” he asked, his voice breaking. Though you couldn’t see his face, the tremor in his voice revealed his struggle to hold back tears. 

You couldn’t understand why he would be hurting with his decision. When faced with two crossroads, he always seemed to pick the path that led away from you. So instead of trying to comprehend his pain, you decided it was time to honor your own. For your sake. For Sachiro’s. 

“Let’s just forget about that night,” you declared, wiping your eyes as you got up from your seat and prepared to walk away. “From this day forward, let’s pretend it never happened.”

——

Akemi’s apartment was dark when Satoru stepped inside. 

And to be honest, the darkness was a relief. At least, she wouldn’t be able to see the lassitude etched on his face, not just from juggling his time between his son and her, but from the constant ache of hurting the person he loved.

Miscommunication is a couple’s greatest enemy, and the persistent disconnect between you two, coupled with the reluctance to clear things up, had worn Satoru down. He wanted to end this—the feeling of helplessness and the torment of seeing the woman he cared for caught in a labyrinth of despair.

The hospital visits to Sachiro alone had been a whirlwind of emotions and responsibilities, and this brief visit to Akemi felt like an unwelcome detour, but one he couldn’t avoid. Satoru knew his heart wanted to stay in the hospital with you, to wait for any updates on his son, to hold your hand and care for you, yet here he was, dragging his feet across the carpeted floors to approach Akemi. 

“Hey.” She was sitting on the couch, looking frail but alert as if she had been desperately waiting on his arrival. She had recently started treatment for her stage 3 endometrial cancer, and Satoru could see the toll it was taking on her, physically and emotionally. He would be cruel to leave her hanging like this, to neglect her at her worst when she had been there by his side at his. Satoru had an unspoken accountability on her, because it wouldn’t be fair for him to just abandon her after she poured all her heart and soul into helping Gojou get back onto his own feet.  

“Hey, ‘Kemi,” he said, his tone soft but distant. “Did you take your meds today?”

Akemi looked up at him, her eyes tired and heavy. “I did. I took them just like the doctor said. How’s Sachiro?”

Gojou’s expression tightened. “He’s holding steady at the moment.”

A heavy silence settled between them before Akemi broke the tension. “I’m glad he’s stable,” she said, quietly. “Are you okay?”

He nodded once, his mind already drifting back to the hospital. “Yeah. Listen, I need to head back soon. Nanami and Miwa will be alternating in looking after you from now on. They’ll make sure you’re okay while I’m dealing with Sachiro. I have to focus on my son.”

Akemi’s frail hand reached out to gently grip his arm, the other held her lower abdomen in pain. “Satoru, please don’t go just yet. Can’t you stay a little longer?”

Now’s not the time to feel guilty. It was either her or Sachiro. Her or his son. Gojou decided to pull his arm away gently, his gaze distant. “Sachiro needs me, Akemi. You know that.”

Akemi’s face fell, but she knew it would be ridiculous to argue over that. “No, I understand. I get that. I want you to focus on Sachi, too. I just wish—” Before she could finish, her voice faltered, and she looked up at him with a hesitant gaze. “Satoru, do you regret that I took you back even if you cheated on me?”

The question caught him off guard, and Satoru’s blue eyes narrowed as he processed her words. He had been so focused on his responsibilities and the immediate crisis that he hadn’t given much thought to their ‘relationship’. All he knew was when he showed up at her doorstep back at the cabin, he was only going to try and end things with her. He was only going to clarify the longstanding feelings you and him poured out to each other that night, which was why he ended up sleeping with his ex-wife. But because Akemi suffered at the time, because her pelvic pain worsened to the point of an emergency, he had to hold back and just take care of her in the weeks that passed. He was caged in this situation like a prisoner who was found guilty for the crimes he had committed.

Just be honest, Satoru. Disregard everything else and just be honest. Satoru believed it was about time he stood his ground no matter the consequences. “You can’t take me back if we’re not together, ‘Kemi,” he breathed out those words, reticent on hurting her with the truth. If she would lash out on him, throw a vase on his head, slam a book on his face—he wouldn’t mind. He was ready to accept all the violence he deserved from being an asshole. “You knew from the start that this, us, was only temporary. It was never supposed to be serious.” 

Her expressions turned doleful. “Then, in that case, did you at least…” Tears welled up in her eyes as she she paused, “Did you at least love me?”

“I just… I never saw it that way, Akemi.” Satoru’s honesty would destroy her, but he didn’t want to keep on sending out false hopes. He had to be firm, and while he was grateful for everything she did for him, that doesn’t mean he owed her his life and loyalty. In the first place, he warned her that he wasn’t ready to be in a relationship. And God, he was far from ready to even settle down, yet Akemi constantly hinted at wanting to tie the knot with him. Again and again did she mention the thought of a wedding and a child and her own family. 

Satoru wanted all those things too, but with another person in mind. He was only set on having those things with one woman.

Akemi’s face paled upon hearing his answer and the fact that he didn’t even bother to explain himself. “I see. I guess I needed to hear that.”

Gojou looked at her with a mix of regret and sympathy. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry for hurting you like this, I really do.”

“It’s fine. Don’t worry about it.”

It definitely wasn’t fine, but Satoru had to take her word for it as he got out from the couch and gave her a gentle pat on the head. “I have to go. Nanami will be here soon. Please make sure to follow the treatment plan and take care of yourself.”

Akemi nodded, though her gaze remained fixed on the floor, unable to meet his eyes. “Alright. I’ll see him when he gets here.”

As Gojou turned to leave, he felt a pang of guilt twisting deep in his gut but pushed it aside. He was a father first before anything else. Sachiro would always be his first and foremost priority amongst everything else. 

——

After leaving Akemi’s place, Satoru was driving his car into the evening air beyond the speed limit. And his mind was racing together with him as he thought of you, your son, and the myriad of emotions he was struggling to manage. He couldn’t wait to be home, not literally at his own place, but anywhere with you and his son was his definition of home. 

It would be diabolical for him to run into your arms and yell, ‘I’m free! We can be together again!’ No, that would be cruel and disgusting. He respected Akemi just as he respected you. It was himself that he couldn’t respect, because he was the one responsible for the mess that he created. And adding Sachiro’s critical condition on top of the already festering wounds in your relationship? It truly was the manifestation of karma in his actions. 

His footsteps bounced through the hospital corridors the moment he arrived, each impatient step was ready to see your face and tell you he would never leave you and Sachiro now. But as he neared the pediatric ICU, his eyes darted around, the sight of his ex-wife was nowhere to be found. And instinctively, his heart pounded in his chest, and a drum of panic seemed to warn him of a storm that was about to come. Something was off, and it scared him. 

“Nurse,” he called out, his voice edged with urgency as he approached their station. “Where’s my wife? The boy’s mother?”

The nurse looked up, recognizing the infamous CEO’s face. “Uh, Mr. Gojou, she was heading to the rooftop, I think.”

“What?!” he unintentionally yelled at her face, “Why didn’t you guys keep an eye on her?” 

“Sir, calm down. She’s probably going to get some fresh air.”

A cold chill ran down his spine. You were definitely not there for that. 

Without another word, he sprinted towards the stairs, taking them two at a time instead of waiting at an elevator together with a group of people. He had to get to you as soon and as fast as he could without another second to waste. Although the climb felt endless, his mind racing with fear and dread was the push he needed to finally reach you. 

And upon bursting through the door to the rooftop, he was met with the soft whisper of the evening wind and the heart-stopping sight of you standing perilously close to the edge.

“Y/N!” he called out, his voice breaking with desperation. “Don’t do this. Please, step back.”

You stood motionless, eyes fixed on the distant horizon, the city lights blurring into a kaleidoscope of sorrow. “The world hates me, Satoru,” you whispered, the mellow tone of your voice carried away by the wind. “I’m a burden to everyone, even my own child. I-I just… I want to end it all.”

“No!” Satoru’s heart shattered at your words while he moved closer, his hands outstretched and careful not to startle or provoke you. He was dying to have you in his arms and keep you safe. “Y/N, please. Come back. What about Sachi? What about me? We need you. Sachiro needs you. I need you.”

What exactly made you go here? How did thoughts of ending yourself suddenly come into fruition? Was there something you discovered that brought you to this ultimatum? Gojou was desperate, utterly desperate, to hear what was running through your mind so that he could at least ease the burden that you were carrying all by yourself. He was once in the position where he wanted to commit too, and he knew the temptation that came with permanently escaping the cruelty of the world in just a single action. 

“Y/N, please. Please, I’m begging. Come to me,” he rattled on in a suffocating whisper, the pleading in his voice was heavy, “Please. I love you. Only you.”  

It was when you turned around that Gojou’s world collapsed, and the words you said after had shattered his entire universe. 

They were still. 

You. 

And the wind. 

“I’m pregnant,” you finally confessed, voice cracking as you looked at the faint tears that fell from Satoru’s eyes. “I don’t wanna have this baby.” 

[cleo-fox]

Surrender

Summary: Finding your soulmate is supposed to be a romantic, life changing experience.

No one tells you what to do when a). your soulmate is the homicidal maniac who led the successful takeover of your planet and made himself king and b). you kind of still want him anyway.

(Soulmate AU where Loki won)

Pairing: Loki x Female Reader

Warnings: Smut, 18+, Minors DNI, dirty talk, praise kink, oral sex, teasing, orgasm delay, sex, vaginal fingering.

A/N: look, I was intrigued by the idea of a Loki Wins AU and also a soulmate AU and this just sort of happened. I may write more of this concept because it gave me IDEAS. This is also available on AO3.

The mark on your wrist begins to burn the minute he walks into the room.

At first you think it’s a coincidence or a mistake—there are guards walking with him, perhaps it’s one of them. But then he flinches, his right hand going to his left wrist and your heart sinks to your knees. It could still be a coincidence, you tell yourself halfheartedly.

He scans the room and when his eyes land on you, it’s like the tumblers of a lock clicking into place and you know.

He’s much taller than you thought he was—that’s the only conscious and coherent thought you manage to have as he approaches you. Being the subject of his gaze is overwhelming in a way that you sort of expect, but it still makes you want to sit down and close your eyes. He looks you over, his gaze lingering briefly on your nametag from work.

“Show me your wrist,” he says.

You don’t think he’s using his powers, but you comply automatically, extending your arm toward him, wrist turned up. There’s a frisson of electricity that buzzes along the back of your hand when he touches it—if there were any remaining doubts about who he is and his relationship to you, that feeling surely puts them to rest. You know that he must have felt something too from the way he looks at you sharply, as though he thinks you’ve done something intentional to cause this. You can only hope that your wide eyed bewilderment convincingly conveys your innocence.

His expression betrays nothing as he examines the mark on your wrist, which is now glowing a bright gold that would be pretty if the circumstances were different.

It’s funny, you think. You’ve been waiting for this moment your entire life and all you can think is that you wish it wasn’t happening.

He releases your hand and looks at you in a calculating sort of way. “Come with me,” he says finally.

You do, of course. What other choice do you have?

*

The next several hours are a blur.

You are shuffled from place to place. Usually there is at least one guard—you’re not sure why. The idea of you being able to do any damage to him is laughable and escape doesn’t exactly seem like an option. Where could you go that he could not find you?

It’s a depressing thought; you try not to think much about it.

You know exactly when the news breaks because it coincides with your phone basically becoming unusable due to the flood of notifications, calls, and texts. You put it on airplane mode to compose a short message to your family and friends. Your reassurances feel a little trite given the circumstances: I’m fine, I’ll call when I can.

You can’t exactly type what you’re really thinking, which is more along the lines of I’ve just learned that my soulmate is the homicidal maniac who led the successful takeover of our planet. I’m doing about as well as you’d expect.

You turn airplane mode off long enough to send the email. Once it sends, you power down your phone. It doesn’t seem prudent to leave it on, at least not right now—right now, it only serves as a reminder of a life you know you’re going to have to leave behind and you’re not at all ready to confront that particular loss.

They eventually take you to what you assume are his rooms. You’re surprised by how traditional the decor is—you had expected a cold sort of minimalism, but there’s more wood and warm colors than you would have thought. You are informed that there are clothes for you in the closet; you nod and say nothing, though you wonder how they managed to pull an entire wardrobe together in the span of only a few hours. Magic, perhaps.

You are finally left alone, though you’re fairly certain that you would find guards stationed outside if you were to look.

You take one of the elegant velvet throws from the bed and wrap it tightly around yourself before settling on the couch next to the window. You’re not exactly cold, but it feels like a necessary armor between you and this unfamiliar place.

You stare out the window for a long time. You’re too high up to people watch and you’re not sure that you could handle that anyway—it would be yet another reminder of the fact that your life has changed in a massive, earth shaking way that you can’t even begin to understand. Instead, you stare at the tiny cars on the city streets below, snaking their way to destinations that feel so far out of your grasp that they might as well be on a different planet altogether.

*

It’s late when he finally shows up—so late that you’ve actually gotten ready for bed, donning one of the silk nightgowns that had been left for you. You can tell it’s more expensive than any sleepwear you’ve ever owned in your life. You’re just glad that it’s modest—you had half expected to find that all your pajamas were bustiers, thongs, and thigh highs in some sort of ill considered attempt to seduce you. But this is elegant and understated, with a matching robe that you cinch tightly around your waist.

You sit on the couch, the throw still wrapped snugly around you. He looks at you, the corner of his mouth curled up in a slight smirk.

“I hope you don’t intend to stay there the entire night,” he says.

“I hardly know you,” you say before you can even contemplate whether it’s wise.

He looks…amused isn’t quite the right word, but there’s a subtle tilt to the corner of his lips—not quite a smile, but maybe somewhere in the vicinity.

“Give it time,” he says, and something about that makes you shiver.

*

You intend to sleep on the couch, at least for these first few nights when everything still feels so raw and strange.

Or that was your plan, anyway.

Loki doesn’t say anything else as he prepares for bed and you stare resolutely at the window so as not to invite any more conversation or prompt any invitations to join him in bed. Eventually, the lights go out and you are left alone with your thoughts in the dark.

The room is much colder at night.

You’re not sure if it’s on purpose, though you wouldn’t be surprised if it was. Perhaps he likes it like this. Perhaps it’s to lure you to him, to tempt you into seeking out the warmth of his bed and body.

You pull the blanket more tightly around your shoulders. Eventually, you allow your eyes to drift shut.

You wake some time later in the middle of the night. The room feels even colder, the velvet of the throw and the silk of your nightgown and robe a scanty defense against the chill. You burrow against the couch cushions and it’s sort of bearable.

But you also have to pee.

You hold off for as long as you can, but you eventually summon the will to leave the couch and seek out the bathroom.

The bathroom is even colder—perhaps it’s all that glass and marble that makes the difference. You’re wearing your robe and you’ve still got the blanket wrapped around you, but your teeth are chattering by the time you wash your hands. You run the water as hot as you can stand, but it only does so much. If you were braver—if it wasn’t your first night here, you would run an extra hot shower and stay under the spray until your fingers and toes pruned and the chill was chased from your bones.

Instead, you hustle back to the couch, burrowing against the cushions, throw and robe wrapped tightly around you. But you still can’t seem to shake the cold. You huddle on the couch, shivering, trying to calm your body.

Time passes and you don’t grow any warmer. You wonder if you can steal another throw from the bed—surely he won’t miss one—when a voice speaks from the darkness.

“Come to bed,” Loki says.

You clear your throat. “What?”

“I can hear your teeth chattering from here. Come to bed and stop being absurd.”

You hesitate, staring into the dark. You consider the cold, the slight kink in your neck from the way you’ve been sleeping on the couch, the late hour, the way that sleep pulls at your eyes. A bed is appealing. Maybe more appealing than it should be.

You find yourself getting to your feet and slowly making your way across the room.

You pause on the other side of the bed—your side, you suppose, though calling it that still feels too intimate. You can just make him out in the dark.

“You’ll stay on your side,” you say, like making it a statement will make it so.

“Well, you hardly know me.” His voice is clipped, more bitter than you expect as he echoes your words from earlier.

You can’t help but scowl. “I’ve known you for less than twenty-four hours and it’s the middle of the night. I’m not doing this right now.”

He laughs. It’s sharp and brittle and unexpected, but it’s a laugh all the same, and something about that helps, if only a little.

You don’t say anything else as you climb into bed. You find that the blankets are warm—warmer than you expect—and heavy. There’s a part of you that expects yourself to be too nervous and on edge to fully relax, but the coziness of the blankets piled around you is oddly calming, even with Loki mere inches away. You hunker down underneath the blankets, situating yourself on the pillows.

He doesn’t say anything and it’s not long until his breathing becomes steady and even.

And after a while, yours does, too.

*

Consciousness creeps up on you slowly the next morning, a far cry from the jarring alarm on your phone that usually disrupts your slumber. You are warm and cozy, cocooned in the blankets, safe from all of the bullshit that had happened yesterday.

It’s such a peaceful, easy awakening that it takes you a moment to realize that you aren’t alone.

It takes another moment for you to realize that your cheek is pressed against Loki’s chest. And to make matters worse, not only are your arms wrapped around his him, your right leg is also flung across his waist, like you can’t bear to be parted from him for even a moment.

But before the panic sets in, there is a barely perceptible moment where your body just enjoys the feeling of being pressed against him. It’s quick and you’d deny it if asked, but the rush that you get from giving into the pull of your soulbond for even that brief moment is nothing short of incredible.

But it’s just a moment and your mind quickly turns to the matter of extracting yourself without drawing his notice. Ideally, he’ll just stay asleep and you won’t have to deal with any awkward fallout. If you move very slowly and carefully, perhaps he won’t notice.

You carefully start to move your leg from his waist.

“To be clear, you’re on my side of the bed,” he says.

God fucking dammit.

You abandon all subtlety and quickly peel yourself away from him.

“I must have rolled over in my sleep,” you say, incredibly conscious of how stupid that sounds.

He smirks, which is somehow worse than if he’d said anything.

“It won’t happen again,” you say.

It does.

This is your new routine: you start every evening on the couch, wrapped up in your robe and throw. You wake some time in the night, teeth chattering. Sometimes, Loki will tell you to come to bed. Other times, you quietly give up and slip under the covers on your side of the bed.

But every morning without fail, you wake tangled around him.

Sometimes, he’s spooned up behind you; more often, though, you’re the one clinging to him. It’s as though your body has a homing device that leads you over to his side of the bed in your sleep, dutifully ignoring all of your stern warnings about who stays where.

The worst part of it is that you’re fighting your own instincts. On a very basic, physical level, you yearn to be close to him. There’s a part of you that revels in these unintentional moments of closeness, that wants to allow yourself to enjoy the feeling of him, to allow him to put his hands on your body, for you to put your hands on him.

The fact that he wakes up noticeably hard most mornings does not make this any easier.

This is a problem that you’re not entirely sure how to solve and the second week in, your desire for information finally outweighs your desire to avoid social media and the deluge of emails and texts that you know are waiting for you on your phone.

You turn your phone back on and immediately delete all of your social media apps. You don’t know what they’re saying about you and you don’t care to. You turn off all of your notifications, even the little number icons that show you how many unread emails and texts that you have. You want absolutely no distractions.

You open a private browser window and pull up Google.

Newly connected soulbonds are the hormonal equivalent of pouring out a bunch of gasoline and striking a match. Soulbonds are intended to be consummated. You know this. There are people who wait it out for one reason or another, but that’s very much the exception—it’s a physical and emotional test of endurance. And you’re beginning to understand why.

The internet is not very helpful. You already know what happens when you don’t consummate a soulbond promptly—increased arousal, restlessness, vivid dreams, and so on as time goes on. You’re more interested in mitigation. You find a few blogs that have entirely irrelevant suggestions like cuddling on the couch or holding hands. “While you’re waiting for intercourse, why not try some outercourse?” one post muses with a level of earnestness that causes you to immediately turn off your phone and fling it across the room.

You’re going to have sex with him at some point. That’s inevitable. On a very basic level, you want him—it’s more or less coded into your DNA. But that is at odds with the reality of who he is and what he’s done. It might feel good to wake up tangled around him, but it only takes a minute to remember the battle of New York and it nearly extinguishes the desire burning within you.

But only nearly and only for now.

*

The third week is when things start getting increasingly difficult.

Loki seems content to wait things out. You can feel the burn of his gaze on you, but he doesn’t push, doesn’t prod.

You, on the other hand, find yourself slipping into a heightened state of arousal that is becoming impossible to ignore. Midway through the week, you finally give in and try touching yourself in the shower in the hope of some relief and you come so quickly and so hard that you have to clap a hand over your mouth to keep from crying out and your legs very nearly buckle from the force of it. A few twitches of your fingers has you sprawled on the shower floor and coming again, harder than before. You repeat this trick a few times but even as strong as it is, it doesn’t really help—you’re back to where you started within minutes.

Worse though, is the fact that it’s his face that you see when you come. Every. Single. Time. You imagine him over you, his gaze dark and intent as he watches you come; slack jawed and hissing in pleasure as he pushes into you; growling in approval and impatience as you take his cock into your mouth. The images come entirely unbidden and stick in the forefront of your thoughts like a burr clinging to wool.

When you see him later that afternoon, his gaze lands on you in such a way that it feels like he knows everything you’ve done and everything you’ve seen, from that moment in the shower to the shameful thoughts you had as you came.

The dreams start shortly after, and they are objectively worse.

The dreams are far more vivid than just images. In the dreams, he’s touching you, coaxing you to peaks you could never have imagined, pressing into you, taking you hard and fast and achingly slow and everything in between. The dreams leave you out of breath and shaky, aching for a touch that you know that you should not want, but do with every fiber of your being. By some miracle, they only seem to occur while you are on the couch and not when you’re in bed, but that luck won’t hold forever.

Perhaps more importantly, you know it’s only a matter of time before you give in. Deep down, you’ve known this from the moment the mark on your wrist started to burn. Your resistance is eroding like a sandcastle at high tide and it’s only a matter of time before you crumble.

But not yet. Not yet.

*

Five weeks after your arrival, you wake sweating and out of breath from another dream.

You take a few deep breaths. It was similar to the ones you’d had before. Thinking about the details makes your core ache and your clit throb so you try to keep them out of your mind.

You’re half surprised that you’re not tangled around Loki, given the content and subject of your dream, but that makes sense when you realize he’s not in bed. Instead, he sits on the couch, staring into the middle distance. Perhaps he is struggling with the same kinds of dreams.

The idea of you making Loki too hot and bothered to sleep is more appealing than you’d like to admit. You hastily dismiss the thought before it can bring any more heat to your already too warm skin or add more fuel to the flickering desire that seems to have settled permanently in the cradle of your hips.

You slip out of bed and go to the window, folding your arms across your stomach as you stare out at the sleeping city.

“You were calling out in your sleep.”

More heat prickles at your skin.

“Hm,” you say, trying your best to sound casual.

“What were you dreaming of?” he asks.

He’s only asking because he already knows the answer. You know this. But the lie still slips from your lips: “I don’t remember.”

He laughs, a quiet and dangerous sound that stokes the fire in your belly. “Have you forgotten, darling, that I am the god of lies?”

You can hear him walking toward you, but you keep your back turned. Has the room always been this warm?

He waits until he is directly behind you to speak again. “Will you lie again when I ask if you were dreaming of me?” His voice is so close, full of depth and a little husky. 

“You flatter yourself,” you say.

You can hear the smirk in his voice, feel the whisper of his breath on your neck. “You’d like to think that, wouldn’t you?” He pauses for a moment. “But you were calling out for me.”

Your lips are dry. You want to deny it, but it feels useless. Worst case scenario, he’s still mostly right: you were dreaming of him and you can’t even really deny crying out for him because you were asleep and you don’t know for sure.

“It’s nothing to be ashamed of,” he continues. His voice drops. “Every time I close my eyes, I see you writhing in pleasure beneath me.” He pauses. “Or I see myself between your legs, worshiping you with my mouth, bringing you to ecstasy over and over before I finally take you.”

Your heart is pounding and every nerve in your body feels as though it’s connected directly to your clit. You are warm—too warm—and you can feel your pulse pounding in your throat.

“What were you dreaming of?” he continues, his voice barely a murmur.

“Nothing,” you say.

He clicks his tongue. “Try again, darling.”

You say nothing and after a moment of silence, he seems to decide that it’s time to switch strategies.

“You must be so wet,” he murmurs, his tone low and soothing.

Your stomach and your cunt clench. If he starts talking dirty to you, it’s over.

“We’re not meant to go this long like this,” he says. “We both know that. It’s been five weeks. Your poor cunt is probably aching for me, just as I ache for you.”

Your breath is coming in shaky gasps. You need him. You can feel your resolve starting to slip.

“Yield to me.” His voice is rough with wanting, like this is just as hard for him as it is for you. “I know you feel it. I feel it, too. You yearn for me, you crave my touch. Let me make you feel good, darling, let me ease that ache. Yield and I will give you everything.”

You draw in a shaking breath and slowly turn to face him. He’s looking at you with an intensity that you expect, but it takes your breath away nonetheless.

The remnants of your resistance are lost to the wave of him and the only thing that’s left in its place is a raw need like you’ve never experienced before.

You don’t know what to say, so in the end, you settle for his name. Just his name, said quietly with all the desperation and longing that has been making your life hell these past few weeks.

You get a glimpse of the fire in his eyes before he’s on you.

There’s nothing gentle about this kiss. It’s the kiss of two people who have been deprived of each other for too long, your teeth bumping against each other, tongues twisting and tangling. You end up pressed against the wall next to the window, your leg wrapped around his waist, his hand supporting your thigh. He presses his hips against you and you moan into his mouth at the feeling of his hard cock dragging against your swollen, sensitive clit. He draws back slightly to look at your face as he slowly grinds his hips against yours, his free hand moving to palm your breast over the silk of your nightgown.

You moan again, your head dropping back against the wall. The soft, slippery friction of the silk of your nightgown against your nipple and the soaked lace of your underwear rubbing against your clit is enough to make you go cross eyed, a slow tease that only fans the burning embers within you. Your body is overheated and too tense, but Loki is blessedly cool in a way that somehow both soothes and inflames.

“You’re drenched. I can already feel that,” he says, his voice thick with desire as he moves against you. “I could make you come like this.”

You whimper, rocking your hips back against him. “Please.”

He shakes his head. “Another time. Tonight I want to feel you when you come.” He drops his hand from your breast, trailing down your stomach and moving in between your legs. His fingers slip beneath your underwear, and you let out a needy whine as he strokes the slick folds of your sex. “Is this all for me?” he asks, his voice slipping into a low growl.

You barely manage a breathy affirmative.

“Sweet thing.” His thumb rolls over your clit as he slides one finger into you, and your back arches automatically, your breasts jutting out. “We’re going to have to do something about this, aren’t we?”

“Please,” you breathe.

“How can I resist such a sweet plea?” he says, sliding another finger into you and curling it just so. “Or such a wet and needy cunt?”

“Don’t stop,” you say.

“I ought to make you beg me for it after everything you put me through.” His eyes darken as his thumb presses against your clit and you moan. “But perhaps I can be generous. I can feel how much you need to come on my fingers.”

You nod, slack jawed and panting.

“You’ve been waiting for this,” he murmurs. “You’ve tried to deny yourself, but you need me, you need my touch.”

You whimper, your hips rocking.

“Say it,” he says, stroking your clit.

“I need to come,” you moan.

“A good start,” he says, his voice a stern purr. “But not quite what I asked, my love. Try again.”

A twinge of irritation manages to work its way to the forefront of your mind. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’m not exactly in a state to be playing twenty questions.”

His eyes light up with a predatory gleam that heralds the arrival of something that you know will end enjoyably for you.

“Oh, darling, that attitude won’t do at all.” His fingers are immediately and conspicuously absent and you very nearly cry out in frustration. But before you can, he is sweeping you into his arms and making the journey to the bed in several long strides. He sets you gently on the bed and looms over you, green eyes flashing as his hands stroke up your thighs. You lift your hips and he pulls your underwear off, tossing it to the side.

“Let’s try that again, shall we?” His voice is a growl. “Tell me what you need.”

“I need to come.” You know it’s the wrong answer, but this particular game of cat and mouse and the predatory gleam in Loki’s eyes are making you even wetter and god, you need him.

His eyes flash with a barely concealed delight. “Try again.”

You spread your legs rather conspicuously, hiking your nightgown up to your waist. “I need to come.”

He’s looking at you intently, lips slightly parted. “You’re trying to distract me with that pretty cunt, you wicked thing.”

“Is it working?” you ask.

He lowers his head to kiss the inside of your left knee. “It would work much better if you answered me properly and told me everything you need.”

You think you have an idea of what he wants to hear, but you’re not quite ready to give up the game yet. Instead, you pull your nightgown up and over your head and toss it to the side. His eyes are dark as he looks at you, his gaze lingering on your breasts and trailing down to the apex of your spread legs. You wonder what it would take to make him lose control, to take you in the way that you both need.The thought sends another flood of heat to your aching core. 

You lick your lips. “Will you make me come, Loki?”

Another wolfish grin. “Closer. But not quite. Try again.”

You let your hand slide down your stomach and between your legs and you part your sopping folds so he can see the full extent of what he’s done to you—every dripping inch. The look he’s giving you now only heightens the feeling.

“Should I make myself come?” you ask and you’re immediately rewarded with an almost feral look and a sharp smack to your ass.

“Don’t you dare,” he growls.

You put on your most innocent expression, even as his visible hunger makes you ache. “I thought you’d like seeing me touch myself.”

“Oh, there will be time for that later,” he says, his eyes still dark. “I’m particularly interested in seeing what prompted those intriguing little noises I kept hearing while you were in the shower. But every tremor of pleasure that wracks your body tonight will be from me alone. Now,” his eyes glitter and his hand replaces yours on your cunt, his long fingers spreading you open, but not touching you, his expression rapt with undisguised greed, “tell me what you need.”

Your capacity to tease and resist him was well and truly exceeded when he smacked your ass and was further obliterated by the monologue he just delivered. “I need you to make me come, Loki. I need you so bad.”

His smile is filled with dark promises and a hunger that you have every interest in sating several times over.

“Good girl,” he says.

And his fingers slide back into you as his mouth envelopes your aching clit.

You moan as your hips lift and your hands tangle in his hair. He mumbles something that sounds like “perfect” against your clit, first teasing you with the tip of his tongue and then pressing it flat against you and rubbing in slow circles. Meanwhile, his fingers have found that soft, aching spot inside of you and he presses against it in slow, firm thrusts that make you tremble.

You initially think that you’ll be quite quick to come because you’re already so wound up, but Loki seems determined to find the edge and keep you there for as long as possible—and he’s really, really good at it. He falls into a rhythm where his tongue strokes your clit once, twice, three times and withdraws; his fingers pick up the thread, stroking your walls once, twice, three times and withdrawing, only for his tongue to resume where he left off. In this way, he keeps you balanced on the edge in a perfect kind of torture. It feels so good, but it’s not quite enough to get you there just yet.

You make liberal use of his name—it’s a plea, a curse, a benediction, a moan, a sigh. Instinctively, you know that he likes this, but it’s not enough to distract him into letting you fall even a moment before he wants you to.

The ache that’s been building in your hips for the last couple weeks is growing, burning bright and warm. Your body feels electric in the best way, your nerves humming and buzzing and straining for release.

“Loki,” you moan, partly as encouragement and partly because you want him so badly.

You’re so close. Your entire body is tense and trembling; all you can think about is how badly you need to come, how much you are aching for your release.

So close.

“Loki, please,” you moan, truly desperate now. “Please let me come. Make me yours—”

You’re not sure if it’s what you said, the desperation in your voice, or pure coincidence, but in that moment, he shifts his rhythm so that his mouth and fingers are no longer alternating, but are instead moving in sync. And this is what you need to tip you over, to allow that wave to finally, finally crest and then break.

Your orgasm hits you hard, pulling a loud moan from deep within your chest and making your entire body quake. Sparklers are dancing along your veins, champagne bubbles fizzing along your muscles, stars bursting behind your eyes. You have never felt anything like this before—you are satisfied but also aching for more, falling apart and being remade over and over again.

It’s only when you’re decidedly in the blissful wave of the aftershocks that he dares to lift his head and he looks you over like you’re something wonderful. Before you can raise your hands to reach for him, he’s crawling up to you, claiming your mouth in a kiss that feels deeper than the ocean.

He slides his hand in between your legs and you whimper, shivering at the sensation of his thumb stroking your sensitive clit. But somehow, he finds that particular angle and pressure that’s just enough, but not too much. You moan and he slides a finger back into you, rolling in the same rhythm as his thumb on your clit.

“That’s it,” he murmurs. “Keep going for me, darling. I want to watch you come this time.” His voice is so firm and authoritative and it strikes sparks up and down your spine.

“Fuck,” you gasp, your hips rocking with his hand.

“You’re doing so well getting ready for me,” he purrs. He lowers his voice to a rough growl. “I can’t wait to fuck you until you’re trembling and coming all over my cock like the wicked, filthy girl that you are.”

It’s the combination of his words and his voice and his perfect hands that does it this time. A rolling, fluttering shudder fizzes through your body, building to a peak that has you letting out a guttural moan as you clench around his thrusting fingers.

“Yes, that’s it,” Loki says as he watches you through hooded eyes. “You are gorgeous when you come undone.”

He kisses you slowly, fingers moving steadily until the final shudder rolls through you.

Somehow, through all of this, he’s remained fully clothed. There’s an aspect to this that’s appealing—it makes everything feel particularly decadent and a little forbidden—but your palms are practically itching with your need to touch him. You need him inside you, but you also need him close, bare skin on bare skin.

Your hands sneak under his shirt and you suck in a sharp breath when you feel the heat of his skin underneath your palms. You tug his shirt off him and make quick work of his pants before drawing back to look at him.

He looks like art. It’s a silly thought, but there’s some truth to it—there’s an almost ethereal quality in the sharp angles of his face and the elegant symmetry of his musculature. 

Your gaze drifts down to his cock. He’s long, thick, and hard, the tip flushed and slick with pre-come. An ache courses through you—something about seeing the full evidence of his arousal makes everything seem more real, makes you want him with renewed ferocity.

You want to touch him and so you do, your fingers curling around his shaft.

“Can you feel how much I need you?” he asks as you stroke him slowly. He is remarkably composed, though you catch the slight hitch in his breath and it sends a thrill through you.

“Will you show me?” you ask.

“Every day,” he says.

It’s an answer you’re not expecting. You were speaking strictly in the immediate, physical sense. This feels deeper, more meaningful. You’re not quite sure what to say, so you kiss him and he kisses you back with an intensity and thoroughness that makes your toes curl.

He rolls over you, his body covering yours. It’s almost overwhelming how good his bare skin feels against yours. You take his cock in your hand again and stroke him, slowly rubbing the tip from your clit to your entrance, coating him in your slick.

You expect him to just push forward when you guide him to your entrance and you’re almost disappointed that he doesn’t—you’ve both waited so long for this and your need for him is burning inside you like an inferno.

But instead he pauses, his eyes locked with yours.

“Will you have me?” he asks. There’s vulnerability in the question, a softness in his green eyes that you don’t expect. It feels like a loaded question, though not necessarily in a bad way.

You don’t hesitate. “Yes,” you breathe.

Something like relief flashes briefly in his eyes before he leans in and kisses you. You tilt your hips up again and this time, you feel the blunt head of his cock slowly press into your waiting warmth.

You’d read people describing first times with their soulmates and it had always sounded so hyperbolic and silly. They’d throw around words like euphoric and transcendent and all you could do was try not to roll your eyes.

But the moment Loki is fully seated inside you, you finally get it. Every overwrought, overused cliché seems to occur to you all at once—puzzle pieces falling into place and locks and keys and halves made whole and all that bullshit—and it all makes sense in a way that it hadn’t before.

Loki’s eyes are stormy above you, to the point that you think you may have angered him, but then he kisses you with a ferocity and possessiveness that steals your breath and makes you tighten around him.

“Mine,” he growls against your lips. “Mine.”

There’s a lot of emotion in that word. There’s history in that word. It’s the sort of thing that the two of you will probably need to unpack later. For now, though, you wrap your legs around him and meet his demanding, hungry kisses with your own.

“I’m yours,” you murmur against his lips. “Take me.”

You expect him to respond to that plea with a frantic pace. But instead, his first thrusts are slow, like he’s savoring it. Your body yields to him instinctively, your muscles drawing him in and then tightening further as he withdraws. You are so slick, so ready for him that it almost feels a little obscene.

“You are exquisite,” he rasps as he sinks into you, his head bowing to kiss and nip at your neck. “I have been aching for you.”

“Yes,” you breathe. “Please.”

You’re not entirely sure what you’re asking for—more of this, more of him—but he seems to know anyway. He kisses you deeply as you wrap your legs around his waist, rolling your hips up to meet his.

In one fluid motion, he rolls you over so that you are on top. He looks up at you, an irrepressible smirk curling at the corners of his lips.

“Go on,” he says, his voice low. “I want to see you take your pleasure from me. Claim your throne, my love.”

A shiver works its way up your spine. This is a man who single-handedly conquered the entire planet and he’s telling you he wants you to ride his cock until you come. It is raw and sexy and undeniably hot and the way he’s looking up at you makes you feel beautiful and powerful.

You lean forward, bracing your hands on the mattress, tilting your pelvis until you find the right angle, the one that makes your stomach tighten and your breath stutter. 

A smile twitches at the corners of his mouth. “Right there?”

You let out a shaky breath and rock your hips. “Yeah.”

It takes a moment for you to find your rhythm, but you find that you want—or perhaps need—to go slow and steady. Loki watches you, his hips rocking with yours as he lets you set the pace, his hands sliding from your hips to your breasts and back again, like he can’t get enough. His gaze is intent and intense and you get the sense that he’s cataloging every movement, every gasp or sigh, furrowed brow or bitten lip.

The coil in your hips is starting to wind tighter and you know it won’t be long. 

As though he knows, Loki slides a hand down your body, palm gently pressing against your lower stomach. A fantastic pressure begins to blossom in your hips and you whimper.

“You’re doing so well,” he purrs. “So tight and wet. You’re perfect.”

“Getting close,” you breathe.

“I know, I can feel you,” he says.

You’re at a point somewhere beyond words, riding that wave, chasing bliss that you can almost feel. A choked whimper falls from your lips.

“That’s it,” rasps Loki. “Be a good girl and come on my cock.” He flicks his thumb against your clit and you completely unravel.

It was good the first two times, but having him inside you as you come sends you to another plane of existence entirely. Your orgasm seems extended, the feeling of his cock against the spasming muscles of your cunt creating more even rippling pleasure. And the noise that he makes, the filthy praise that falls from his lips, the way that his fingertips dig into your hips just makes it all better.

He rolls you over onto your back just as you’re starting to feel boneless, and pulls you into a deep kiss.  He thrusts into you, a little faster than the pace you had set, but still slow and steady.

“I want to feel you come again,” he breathes. “Do you have any idea how long I’ve waited for this, how good you feel?”

You shudder as his cock drags again against that spot inside you. He repeats the motion and you keen, tangling your fingers in his hair.

“That’s it,” he rasps, bringing your leg up over his hip to press even more deeply inside of you. “Come on, darling. Let me feel you.”

You wrap your arms around his neck, meeting his hungry, demanding kiss with your own. You roll your hips with his, chasing the flickers of bliss that he’s steadily stoking to an inferno once more.

“Please,” you mumble against his lips. “Need you. Please.”

He groans and increases his pace just enough to make you whimper. The desire inside of you is catching fire.

“I…fuck, I—” Your hands are gripping his shoulders, your body shaking as you approach your end.

Loki’s eyes are wild, his teeth bared. You can tell that he’s close, that he’s chasing the same incredible feeling that you are.

“I want you to come for me,” he grits out. “And the second I feel your tight cunt start to tremble around me, I’m going to come inside you.

You moan, fingernails digging into his shoulders. You are unbearably close.

“Do you want that, darling?” he says. “Do you want me to come inside you? Do you want your perfect cunt filled with my seed?”

You are almost beyond words, but not quite: “Yes. Please.”

Despite how close he is, he still gives the impression of being entirely in control. He lowers his head so that his lips graze yours and his eyes are all that you can see. “Then come for me,” he says.

Two more deadly smooth rolls of his hips and you do. A guttural, plaintive sound falls from your lips as your whole body trembles with the force of your orgasm, your cunt squeezing around the girth of his cock. He groans, mumbling something in a language you don’t recognize before he, too, starts to unravel.

His face is rapturous when he comes, his head tipping back and his mouth falling open, brow furrowing. If you weren’t so distracted with the rippling shocks of your own pleasure, you would try to commit it to memory. Instead, you simply try to enjoy the feeling of him emptying himself inside of you, the stuttering thrust of his hips, the soft groan that falls from his lips. Finally he stills, resting his head in the crook of your shoulder. You can feel his heart pounding against yours.

You feel…it’s not different, exactly, but there’s a kind of ease and connection that just feels right. The restless ache inside of you is finally quiet and you feel loose and languid and pleasantly sleepy.

Finding your soulmate isn’t necessarily the same as falling in love. Sometimes it all happens in the moment. Sometimes it’s years in between.

For you, though, you can pinpoint the exact moment that seed was planted: Loki raising his head to look at you, his hand curled against your cheek. His gaze is careful, reverent, like you are as warm and golden as the dawn just barely beginning to streak the morning sky.

[mortalityplays]

You need more free art.

I quit my job yesterday. Well, actually I quit my job eight weeks ago, but they finally released me yesterday for good behaviour. Don't get me wrong, I love what I do - but I do it for the wrong reasons. Working for major charities, you learn very fast that 'I want to make the world a better place' is a phrase you use to ask people for money, not to give them things. I was an ass-backwards fit for that world.

You need more free art. I need more free art. Everyone has felt the shift in our media landscape over the last ten years, away from access and towards nickel-and-diming the human experience. That lack of access is making life and culture worse for all of us, across the board. Paywalled news sites leave us less informed, attacks on the Internet Archive leave us less capable of research. Algorithmic social feeds and streaming walled gardens trap us inside smaller and smaller demographic bubbles, where we are increasingly only likely to encounter ideas that have been curated for us by marketing departments. Hasty efforts to resist AI commodification have only led to more artists locking their work away and calling for even more onerous systems of copyright law. This is not good for us.

We all need more free art.

So what am I going to do about it?

This is a question I have been asking myself for years. It's easy to sit here feeilng frustrated and thinking 'boy I hope SOMEONE does SOMETHING'. It's harder to take action in a world where I still have rent to pay. But hard doesn't mean impossible. Sometimes hard just means time-consuming, frustrating and slow. And sometimes it's worth doing something time-consuming, frustrating and slow because...I want to make the world a better place.

I'm going to do this:

1. From April 1st, I am relaunching as a freelance writer and editor.

This is the one that will (hopefully) help to pay the bills. I am a very good and experienced editor. I've worked on hollywood movies, I'm a member of the Chartered Institute of Editors and Proofreaders, I have clients who have been coming to me exclusively for more than 10 years.

Alongside bigger contract jobs, I am going to refocus on offering my services to small-press creators at a reduced rate. That means you, graphic novelists. That means you, itch and amazon writers. I want to help you develop your work, the same way I help large organisations. You can learn more about what an editor even does and what kind of pricing you can expect here.

2. I'm also going to start giving shit away. Like, constantly.

Next week I'm going to launch a new free shop. If you're unfamiliar, a free shop, giveaway shop, swap shop, etc. is an anarchist tradition of setting up a storefront where anyone can take what they like for no cost. Offline, this often means second-hand clothes, tools, furniture, food etc. Online, I am going to be giving away digital art. Copyright-free, no strings attached. It will (eventually) feature everything from print-res posters to zines, poems, tattoo flash, t-shirt designs and anything else we come up with.

Yes, I said 'we' - while this is a curated collection, it will feature work from a variety of credited and anonymous artists and activists, all of whom have agreed to give their work away to the public domain. Some of it will be practical, some of it will be political, but a lot of it will be decorative or personal. This is, in part, a response to recent difficulty I had finding somewhere that would print a one-off joke poster for a friend that featured the word 'faggot'. Enough. No middlemen - no explaining ourselves. Just print our shit and enjoy it.

I'm very, very excited about this project. I'll have more to say about it closer to the launch, but you can expect it to go live on March 27th.

2.2 I forgot to mention the ACTUAL LAUNCH GIVEAWAY

To celebrate my launch, I am going to be giving away a ton of physical prints. When I went looking for my old stock to see if it was worth setting a new (paid) storefront up, I realised I had way more old work in storage than I thought. This will be announced in its own right on Monday, but this is why I've been hinting you should go follow my Patreon.

On April 1st, I will pick 8 random patrons (from across all tiers including non-paying followers!) and mail them a bundle of assorted prints and postcards. The prize pool includes A3 and A4 posters, packs of A6 postcards, and printed minicomics that I've previously sold for up to £12 each.

You don't have to be a paying subscriber to enter - this is strictly no-purchase necessary. It is purely and entirely a celebration of the concept of GIVING ART AWAY FOR FREE.

3. PORN, YOU PERVERTS

Because I still have to pay to stay alive, I am going to be subsidising all this free art with the introduction of Fuck You Fridays. Starting from March 29th, I will drop a new 18+ short story on the last Friday of every month, over on itch.io (yes I know my page is desolate right now, don't worry I'll get there).

The first edition, Go Fuck Yourself, is about, well - telling your boss where to stick it. Julia has had it with her millionaire man-child manager, and is just about ready to let him know what she really thinks. It's a short and steamy 5k words, with a gorgeous cover illustration by @taylor-titmouse, and you can pick it up for $3 starting from March 29th.

4. ANOTHER BIG SURPRISE

I'm keeping this one under wraps for now, but April 1st will also play host to one more (FREE) launch. If you've been following me for a long time, you might remember the other significance of this date (no not April Fool's day, though that is certainly thematically relevant to this entire effort). That's all I'll say right now. Watch this space.

tl;dr: I'm sick of paywalls and career ladders. I'm literally putting my money where my mouth is. More free art for everyone and I'm not kidding around!!!

[call-sign-shark]

Of Bending and Breaking || Tommy Shelby x Reader

Summary: Always being the one who cares for others comes with a price: you break down, but the most unexpected person is here for you: Tommy, the man you were forced to marry.

Words: 2,3k

TW: Hurt/Comfort, very tiny mention of past sexual assault, no proofreading 'cause it comes from clearing my drafts.

Notes: Aunt Isabella's is a tribute to my own aunt Isabelle who, unfortunately, died because of cancer a few years ago.

It all started with Polly shaking Tommy like a tree, her thin hands firmly grabbing his nephew’s broad shoulders: “You can’t keep sabotaging yourself like this, Tom.” These were the words that left her quivering lips as she dragged his staggering frame to the bathroom and pushed his face into the bathtub right under the tap. When the freezing water splashed all over his neck, Tommy opened his blank eyes wide and inhaled sharply, as if he had suddenly come back to life. Since Grace’s awful death, the gangster was the shadow of his former self. When he wasn’t waging a senseless war with Father Hughes and the Italian, or when he wasn’t keeping his buzzing mind busy with work, Tommy usually numbed himself with a deadly combination of whisky and opium until his deep-seated pain became bearable. It was the night he almost overdosed that Polly decided to take charge of his nephew and found him a new wife, in the hope of soothing his nephew’s mind and finding a mother figure for poor little Charlie. The idea had obviously sent Tommy in a fit of anger but Polly Gray couldn’t care less.

Regarding your own situation, it was not the opium nor the loss of a dear lover that had led you to Birmingham’s most dangerous man but rather the bump in your belly. Aunt Isabella had understood what you were suffering from the moment you had stormed out of the vardo to throw up your breakfast in the nearest bush. The tall and lean woman, whose light brown and curly mane danced in the cold autumn wind, had looked at you right in the eyes and raised one of her thin eyebrows. If there was something pleasant with her, it was that words weren’t necessary.

Yet, later she encountered Polly, with whom she had been a great friend since childhood, and explained that a powerful American man had forced his seeds in you during his stay in England. Not willing to go through the traumatic experience of aborting, Isabella only saw one solution to your problem: you needed a husband who could protect you and your future baby from the evil man with his scarred lip. A wedding would be your salvation. At the realization of what Aunt Isabella had planned for you, you tried to run away from the camp in the middle of the night but she knew you too well and soon caught you, her sly hand firmly grabbing your wrist: “Y/N! It’s for your sake! He’s rich, he needs a wife and he is feared! You’ll be safe with him, don’t you understand?” She explained, cupping your face with her long fingers adorned with claws painted in red and far too many rings. “I don’t need a man to protect me! I don’t need anyone. He’s older and he’s a criminal! Who’s going to protect me from him eh? Have you think ‘bout that?” You cried, the soft light of the sunrise turning your tears into liquid gold.

But still, you wedded him and what was supposed to be the happiest day of your life turned out to be a dull event during which you dissociated the whole time. The only memories you had in mind were two piercing and frightening turquoise eyes staring right at your soul and soft whiskey-tasting lips stealing a quick peck from your cherry lips. A kiss devoid of any form of affection. And then, the groom left.

From what Aunt Isabella told you, your husband had spent most of the celebrations with his brothers, drinking and taking bets outside of Arrow House. Months had passed and still, you felt estranged to this place and its staff. The only moments your heart lightened were when Aunt Isabella visited you, or when Charlie spent time with you, otherwise you remained emotionally closed, trapped in your own mind. Overall you could not complain: You had a house far too big for you with plenty of workers willing to exhaust every one of your wishes. Charlie was a sweet boy, who loved you with all his heart even if you were well aware that you’ll never replace his mother. As for the Shelby clan, they were cordial with you without being really friendly either. And there was Tommy…

Cold and distant Tommy, who you only saw late at night when he discretely slipped under the bedsheet and turned his back to you without uttering a single word. Busy Tommy, whose replies remained concise and spoken with a quiet husky voice each time you asked him something — at least he talked to you a little bit. Trapped in a loveless marriage, that was what you were: Tommy was more a stranger, a mere gust of wind in your life, than the love of your life.

Still, the gangster stayed true to his words and he provided for everything, never refusing to give you money when you asked, and protecting you from the man who had taken your innocence. He even gifted you a wonderful stallion because he knew how much you missed riding. In exchange for his protection and riches, all you had to do was take care of Charlie and do your best to be there for your husband when his darkness threatened to swallow him whole.

You found out about the nightmares shortly after your wedding and quickly decided to do something about it. When he woke up screaming and drenched in sweat after tasting the tunnels’ dirt and Grace’s crimson blood in his troubled sleep, you always cradle him, your fingers losing themselves in his wet dark hair to pet his head gently. At first, you feared his reaction, expecting the infamous Tommy Shelby to push you and not-so-kindly ask you to keep your distance but, to your greatest surprise, he never did. Instead, he would bury his face in your cleavage, panting and trembling, and let you reassure him. Just like he let you bring dinner to him each time he drowned himself in paperwork and forgot to eat. He never commented on your cooking skills though, even if he always handed back empty plates.

The blood on his skin? You cleaned it.

The wounds of his flesh? You never failed to patched them up.

The hole in his heart? You tried to seal it off with caresses, soft kisses, and shoulder massages. Maybe one day he would slowly turn his iciness into affection. Little did you know that he needed it. And by it he needed you. Just like the whole family. How many times did you walk the streets of Birmingham at night, seeking for Arthur and then bringing him home to take care of a wasted and high him? Far too many to keep track. Similarly, you had spent countless evenings helping Ada when she felt overwhelmed, either nursing Karl or cleaning her house when, just like her brother, she overworked herself. And finally, Polly could never thank you enough for everything you did to soothe her mind after the gallows, still haunted by the bite of the hanging rope on her throat.

“Thanks Poppy.” Arthur muttered, the gravel in his voice coated with shame now that you were down clearing and disinfecting his split knuckles. The oldest brother had started to affectionately call you so for the sole reason that, according to him, you must probably grow better when blood was considering how much you had seen when patching the Shelby siblings. “Sorry for errr… For the mess.” He went on, his steel blue eyes fleeing yours.

“That’s okay.” You replied in Romani, “You, sweet idiot.” Endeared by how surprisingly soft Arthur’s harsh complexions could turn, you couldn’t help but gently put your hand on one of his cheeks. And during this tender display of affection, Arthur was convinced he had caught sight of a smile — a scarce event barely happening on your beautiful but resigned face. Comforted by the warmth of your palm, he leaned into your touch and looked at you through dark lashes, his lids half-closed.

“Tommy’s one lucky bastard to have ya for himself, eh."

"Let's both flee together then." You teased, the familiar tone of Romani language rendered even more melodious by your siren-like voice.

"Don't tempt me, little one." Arthur replied, softer than intended and probably only half-joking.

The oldest Shelby brother had barely closed the door when your smile disappeared and tears flooded your eyes. Admittedly, spending months of repressing your own anguish didn’t do any good to you despite thinking that focusing on others would have helped. Quite the contrary, all those negative emotions you had left on the back burner turned into a silent and deadly parasite that was eating you up. Dragging your tired frame to the cold and empty marital bedroom, you curled up in a ball in a corner of the room, your bruised knees pressed against your chest, “Positive. You gotta stay positive and push forwards y’see Y/N? Do the right things for the family…” You whispered to yourself as your breath started to quicken for the ball of sorrow in your throat was growing more and more. Yes, you had to smile and say that all was just fine because you knew you were lucky to be here and that you hadn’t any real reason to complain now according to the rest of the world. And yet, the truth was you were tired. So tired and overwhelmed by everything around you. With your wild soul trapped here in the mighty walls of Arrow House, you could not help but drown in an excruciating feeling of worthlessness.

You were lost in a world too difficult for you to understand. Lost and unprepared for a life that asked for too much. When you were living in the vardo with Aunt Isabella life seemed so much easier despite the lack of money and, sometimes, food. Prior to your wedding, she used to tell you that everything would become clear once you’d be a wife and a mother. You’d be an adult adult, you see? But she lied. They all lied. Even with a husband and kids, you still felt like a scared and confused child, who wanted to hide under the blanket of her warm bed and never face the world ever again. These concerns of yours? You never shared because you wanted the Shelby to keep seeing you as a reassuring presence— moreover, God knew how much their broken hearts needed your silent care.

Bringing your trembling fingers to your mouth, you muffled a first sob, convinced it would be enough to keep you from crying. What you didn’t expect was to burst into tears, uncontrollably weeping. After all this time forcing yourself to be strong, your mind had enough. As your heart-wrenching cries echoed in the room they muffled Tommy’s footsteps that were coming closer and closer. When the door flung open, you did not even move, lost in a spiral of pain and psychological exhaustion.

“Y/N?!” Tommy called you, his usual coldness swept away by a surge of panic. He closed the distance between you and him with hastened steps, and put one of his knees on the floor to be at your level, “What’s wrong, ay?” His husky voice asked, worries thickening his Brummie accent even more. You hiccuped and raised your flooded eyes towards him, parting your lips to answer. Yet, as soon as your gaze met his turquoise iris you started weeping again, louder this time. Words were at a loss by dint of never having the chance to express what you felt throughout your life. “Bloody Hell, Y/N! Speak!” Tommy hissed, his heart now drumming in his chest at the sight of his young and always-so-strong wife crumbling in bits in front of him. Never in his life, he had felt so powerless, not even in the tunnels… And, God, he hated it.

“N-nothing. I don’t… I don’t even know it’s just that— I’m so fucking tired, and lost, and confused, and afraid!” You spoke with a very fast pace, spitting years and years of repressed emotions flowing from you all the while feeling deeply ashamed of your mental breakdown. When you were done venting, you simply turned your head and waved off the topic, tears still rolling down your reddened cheeks “Anyway! You’ve got — more important things to do.”

“Stop it, Y/N,” He scolded, low voice rumbling in his chest. His strong and calloused hands, damaged by the war and hard work, cupped your face with a softness you didn’t know he possessed. For the first time in your life, his grip felt utterly reassuring as if you knew these scarred palms were not going to let you fall apart. Never. “You’re what’s important right now.” With that being said, Tommy leaned his forehead against yours and his enchanting eyes soon met yours to force you to focus on nothing else but the vast blue oceans which composed them. “I want you to calm down.”

“I can’t, I can’t—“ You tried to speak but you couldn’t, struggling to breathe under the crushing weight of your panic attack. Your mouth gaped, looking for the oxygen it couldn’t find.

“Oi!” Tommy said louder. So loud that his voice managed to overcome the cacophony of your beating heart and the buzzing sound of your anxiety that filled your head, “I want you to breathe with me, Y/N. Alright? You can do that for me, ay?” He asked, his eyebrows slightly frowned and charming crowfeet appearing at the corner of his eyes — how odd it was to see Tommy’s face veiled with something else than unsettling placidity. Caught off guard by the sudden realization of how close he was, you quieted down a little bit and soon followed the pattern of his breathing.

One long inhale through the nose, one longer exhale through the mouth, and a short pose.

Do it again.

Your shaky hands slowly grabbed his wrists in a desperate attempt to anchor you to reality. This, as well as the focus you had on his mesmerizing complexions.

His long dark lashes — you inhaled slowly.

His cat-like turquoise iris — you exhaled.

His salient cheekbones — You stopped breathing for a very short while.

The myriad of freckles — “Breathe with me, Y/N.”

The soft, hoarse lilt guided you through the dark and thick fog of your own brain, just like a lighthouse. Coming back to clearer waters, your body finally relaxed and fell almost limp in his arms. And once again he caught you, keeping you all safe against his chest. Tommy’s voice, low and steady, resonated one last time in the bedroom with a reassuring warmth as he uttered the simple yet powerful phrase, "I'm here." Each word carefully enunciated, carrying a quiet strength that soothed and reassured, like a comforting anchor in a stormy sea.

Keep your writers motivated: Reblog and/or comment if you liked it, you filthy animal! o/ English is not my first language btw.

Taglist: @adaydreamaway08 @theshelbyclan @jomarch-wannabe @esposadomd @zablife @woofgocows @anathemasworld @anastasia000 @kate654 @kxnnxy @babayaga67 @meowtastick @shelbyssins @sarai-ibn-la-ahad @bluevenus19 @raincoffeeandfandoms @kishie8 @zablife @alexandra-001 @dearshelby @alexizodd @helen06dreamer @kmc1989 @emotionalcadaver @peakyswritings @peakyltd @chaosinkest1996 @vanhelsingsbigtoe @red-riding-wood

[bueckers]

UNFINISHED BUSINESS ━━━ paige bueckers

i don’t wanna fight, but you got the wrong vibes. let me get you right, it’s how i apologize. ✶

synopsis: she broke it off, but has since had a hard time leaving her alone… especially when having to see her in person.

pairing: paige bueckers x fem oc

warnings: smut with plot, p eating ( p is literally EATING ), fingering, thigh riding, and slight angst.

notes: this is ridiculously long. in honor of her fit here, enjoy.. i loved writing this almost as much as i love the song lol. lmk if i should make a part two or maybe a series!

Nervous, excited, and borderline bald from tugging at my hair—these were all the things I had felt the moment I stepped into the WNBA 2024 All-Star Game.

I would be seeing Paige tonight. Paige would be seeing me tonight. Paige knew I knew she would be seeing me tonight, and I knew Paige knew she would be seeing me tonight.

When Paige and I first started hooking up, it was never supposed to be anything serious. She was sidelined with a torn ACL, and I knew she was in a dark place, struggling with everything that came with being forced off the court. I think that’s why it started, honestly. She needed an escape, something to make her forget for a little while, and I was there.

Paige and I have known of each other for years, though. We both came up in the basketball world at the same time, our names being tossed around in the same circles since high school. We’d cross paths at AAU tournaments and national showcases, always on different teams but always aware of each other.

Back then, our support for each other was more from a distance, and it wasn’t until college that things started to shift. We crossed paths more often, whether it was at games, media events. The rivalry between our schools added a new layer to our interactions, but by then, we had leveled up from distant competitors to something more like casual friends.

Those moments were what led us to where we eventually ended up. The more we talked, the more we realized how much we actually had in common—our experiences, our struggles, the pressure to perform, and the constant scrutiny. It felt natural, easy, to let our guard down with each other, which is why when her injury happened and everything else in her life felt like it was falling apart, I wasn’t surprised when we fell into it.

We had an agreement. Not one that was ever talked about soberly, but the way it happened just fell into place so perfectly that we didn’t need to. We’d meet up when it was needed, no commitments, no expectations. Just two people finding comfort in each other, filling a void that we couldn’t fill on our own. It was convenient, effortless, and most importantly, it worked for the both of us. I guess I figured if I kept things casual, I wouldn’t get caught up in something messy. I didn’t want to be the one to complicate her life even more.

We’d cross paths after games, during off-season, or whenever our schedules aligned, slipping into each other’s lives for a few hours at a time. She knew how to keep me at arm’s length, just close enough to keep me coming back but far enough to never let me in too deep. She knew exactly how to make me feel needed without ever giving too much of herself away. It was maddening, really—how she could be so vulnerable one minute, showing me sides of herself that no one else got to see, and then switch off just as quickly.

The more we hooked up, the more I started to realize I was getting too close. I could see it in the way she’d look at me sometimes, like she knew I was starting to care too much. And the worst part was, she didn’t seem to mind pushing me right to that edge. She’d say something that made my heart race, or she’d touch me in a way that felt like it meant something, only to pull back and remind me of our status. She was always in control, always the one with the upper hand, and I hated how easily I let her have it.

And then it was all done. She cut things off with a cold finality that I still can’t even believe. No explanation, no soft letdown—just a sudden, brutal end. It was like she knew exactly when I’d reached that point and she didn’t hesitate to remind me that it was never supposed to mean anything at all.

“I’m gonna go grab some snacks, alright? Try to look a little more happy for the jumbotron,” JuJu teases, getting up from her seat. I gasped, barely having any time to process her insult as she scooted between me to get to the stadium stairs.

“Very funny,” I muttered, watching her walk away.

Alone now, I focused on the game, doing an extremely good job at hiding the gnawing in my chest. I’d say I have a good poker face, but Paige would agree to disagree. My phone buzzed, jolting me from my thoughts. It was her and she’d finally found you. She was on the other side of the arena, clearly getting a kick out of having you in her view.

you mad at me or just deep in thought?

I rolled my eyes back to the deep depths of hell. Another text from her.

you look good tonight

you too. how’s the game?

As soon as I hit send, I regret it. I should have ignored her. I should have said something snarky.

Her reply comes almost immediately.

could be better. thought about coming over

what stopped you?

You watched her text bubble practically stutter, making you quirk an eyebrow.

juju. i didn’t wanna make it awkward.

lol. okay.

actually, scratch that. leave w me.

I shifted in my seat, my hands suddenly clutching my phone a little tighter.

paige, no.

why not?

I shut off my phone just in time for JuJu’s return, watching as she squeezed through mounds of people to get back to me. She handed me a cherry slurpee, which would however be gone in ten minutes.

“Thanks, sugar,” you teased her, wrapping your lips around the straw and taking a nice, long sip. She shook her head at me as she focused on the game again, nachos in hand. Ping.

Tell her don’t get too comfortable 😂

I could even feel her eyes boring into me from the other side. I could picture the stupid smirk or gummy smile she’d have. I turned my ringer off and silenced Paige’s notifications before slipping my phone into my back pocket and reverting my attention back to the game. It’s almost over.

Fast forward to the final buzzer, and Juju and I made our way down to the court, weaving through the crowd of fans and players. I always loved the energy in a room of women’s basketball players and fans— there were always a million things going on at once. As we reached the court, we spotted Caitlin, who was already deep in conversation with a couple of other players.

“Great game, Cait,” I said, pulling her into a light hug. “Guess nobody busts your butt as good as SC, huh?” I pulled back first, resting my hands on my hips. I could say I’ve known Caitlin as long as I have Paige, but Cait doesn’t know me the way Paige does.

Caitlin laughed, rolling her eyes good-naturedly. “Yeah, yeah, Miss Championship. but don’t get too cocky now.”

Juju laughed alongside me, adding a quick comment about how USC would give her a run for her money next time. The conversation flowed easily, a mix of post-game analysis and friendly banter. I scanned the court for a brief moment, knowing exactly who I was looking for.

Sure enough, out of the corner of my eye, I saw Flau’jae and Paige making their way over. I braced myself, knowing the cameras would be all over this reunion, and the media would have a field day with it. Paige looked as confident as ever, her stride always one that grabbed attention.

“Hey, y’all,” Paige said, her voice smooth, effortless. She exchanged hugs and high-fives with everyone, her presence commanding attention as always. When she reached me, she didn’t hesitate to pull me into a hug, her hand resting on my hip before snaking around to my lower back.

And then I felt it—her hand slipping lower, fingers grazing the fabric of my mini skirt. I could hear the smirk in her voice as she leaned in, her breath warm against my ear. “Good to see you.” Just close enough to keep me coming back.

I pulled back slightly, meeting her eyes. There was that smirk. My heart was pounding, a mix of frustration and something else I didn’t want to acknowledge. “You too,” I managed, keeping my tone as neutral as possible, pulling back with a tight-lipped grin that looked friendly enough to anyone who didn’t know what was going on. Which was everyone.

The group continued chatting, oblivious, obviously. You’d found out the one thing you hated about being around Paige was the overwhelming current of being the only ones in the room who knew how each other was feeling. Paige, ever the actor, kept up her usual easygoing demeanor, but I could feel her gaze on me, like she was waiting for something. I tried to focus on the conversation, but it was impossible with her so close, the warmth of her hand still lingering on my skin.

When the small talk finally wound down, and the others started drifting away, Paige moved closer, her eyes locked on mine. She leaned in again, her voice low, almost a whisper. “C’mon. Meet me,” she coaxed, her breath warm against my ear. Her fingers brushed lightly against my side, tracing a path.

I hesitated, the resolve I’d built up over the past hour crumbling under the weight of her presence. She was testing me, pushing every button she knew she could. And damn it, it was working.

I finally nodded, barely audible. “Okay.”

It was all she needed. A single, one-word confirmation that I wanted her as bad as she does. She took my phone out of my pocket for me, placing it my hand as she said her goodbyes to everyone else, leaving me there. I suppose it was smarter for her to do that anyway.

Shortly after Paige’s departure, I made my way out as well. JuJu wasn’t a tough barrier to get past. I told her to finish up her conversations, and that I’d see her back at the hotel. I wasn’t quite show how long my excuse would suffice, but I hoped she’d find her way to the bar or something after.

I don’t know why I listened. Watched my fingers click on her contact and give the driver her hotel’s address. It was like I was compelled from the moment she’d touched me, and to be honest, I don’t think I’d be surprised if that was the case.

The Uber ride felt interminable, each passing moment only heightening the anticipation and anxiety. I could barely focus on the city lights flashing by outside, my mind consumed with the impending confrontation and whatever would follow.

Finally, I was able to make my way to her room, feeling the cool air of the hallway against my skin as I knocked on the door. When Paige answered, her smile was as infuriatingly charming as ever, and she pulled me inside with a warm, yet testing glint in her eye.

The moment the door clicked shut behind us, Paige’s demeanor shifted. Before I could voice any protest, her lips were on mine, kissing me with an urgency that made my heart race. I barely had time to process the sudden change before she deepened the kiss, her hands roaming possessively over my back.

I tried to pull away, my mind still reeling from the fact that I was even here, but her grip tightened, pulling me closer. “Paige,” I murmured against her lips, trying to catch my breath. “We need to talk—” but as much as I tried to voice it, I knew that isn’t what we both really planned to do.

She silenced me with another intense kiss, her fingers tangling in my hair, guiding my head to tilt for better access. Her touch was relentless, her body pressing against mine with all the need in her body. “I don’t wanna fight,” she whispered between kisses, her breath hot and heavy against my skin. “Jus’ wanna be close to you.” She breathed in my scent, and I melted.

The words were almost lost in the heated moment, but I could feel the sincerity. She pulled back just enough to look into my eyes, her gaze smoldering with an intensity that made me rethink actually standing on business. She waited, trying to see if I was really against this. I licked my lips, glancing at hers.

I didn’t stand a chance.

Her lips found mine again, and the world narrowed to the press of our bodies. Our kisses were feverish and desperate, each touch holding some type of meaning. Paige’s hands roamed over my skin like there were so many options in a candy store and she couldn’t pick just one. In this case, one spot to focus on. Her mouth trailed down my collarbone, leaving a path of pinkish marks.

Our bodies were pressed together and refusing to let go. Paige guided me towards the bed, her hands never leaving my body, her lips continuing their assault on my skin. When she finally lowered me onto the bed, I was needy and breathless and finally feeling a little more realistic.

“P, I’m still mad,” I tried to insist, though my voice wavered as I watched her begin to undress. She unzipped her Nike vest slowly, the sound of the fabric sliding down her body making my pulse quicken. It fell to the floor, and she ripped off her shirt with a sudden, breathless intensity, revealing her sports bra. The sight of her, partially unclothed and vulnerable in front of me again left me speechless.

“I know,” she murmurs, her head slightly tilted as she looked at me all-knowingly. “And ima’ make it up to you, I promise. Just let me get you right.” Her fingers trailed up my bare legs, eliciting a small gasp from my lips. She tugged at the hem of my skirt, pulling the fabric down and grabbing my panties in the process. I watched her do it, in utter disbelief that this was how I was spending my night.

Her fingers graze teasingly against my kneecaps, sending shivers through my body, before she gently but firmly peels my legs apart. I look down at her. “You’re just trying to distract me,” I say, but there’s no heat behind the words.

Paige smirks, a knowing look in her eyes as she falls to her knees, her hands sliding over my thighs. “Maybe,” she admits, her voice dropping into a low, sultry tone as she tucks her lip between her teeth. “But you can’t say you don’t want this too.”

She’s right, and we both know it. The way she’s touching me, the way her eyes are locked onto mine with that look. The same one that knows she’s getting her way tonight. My worries seem so distant now, nothing more than a whisper of irritation in the back of my mind, easily drowned out by the way Paige’s hands are moving.

I begin to say something, but she easily cuts me off by diving into me with no warning, immediately humming against my cunt in satisfaction. Her eyebrows were furrowed as her tongue made some deliberate strokes, seemingly in disbelief of the way I tasted. She looks up at me as she delves in, a sight beautiful enough for the Louvre but way too sinful.

She says something I can’t hear, but I do catch a, “Can’t leave you alone, ever. Fuck.”

“Yeah?” I muster out, my breath a careless whisper.

Paige smiles against me, loving the cocky tone in my voice as she responds with a fast nod, the movement making me gasp. “Yeah.”

From there, every moan and gasp from me seems to fuel her desire, making her work even harder to drive me wild. Her hands grip my hips firmly, keeping me in place as her mouth and tongue continue their relentless assault. In the haze of ecstasy, all I can focus on is the feeling of her between my legs, making good on her promise to get me right, leaving me utterly consumed by the pleasure she’s giving.

I come, loud enough that the neighbors might know Paige’s name, but she keeps going. It becomes too much, enough for me to whine and pull away, scooting a little bit higher on the bed. She isn’t going for it, though, and immediately brings me back to her mouth, wrapping my legs in her thick arms.

“Where you tryna’ go, princess?” she teases. The sensation of her mouth and fingers on me is so intoxicating that I can barely respond before she pulls back entirely, rising to her feet. She begins to peel off her pants, her movements slow, leaving me breathless and frustrated.

“Seriously?” I complain.

“Chill,” she responds with a husky chuckle, towering over me in the sexiest way explainable. It’s like she contemplates something in her head for a moment, leaving me dripping wet and needy before her.

Finally, Paige steps closer, her hands sliding down to her sports bra. With a teasing glance, she pulls it off, revealing her bare chest. My eyes widen as I take in her form, unable to tear my gaze away. She then sits back down, positioning herself comfortably on the edge of the bed. “Want you to get on my thigh, baby, m’kay?” And there was no room for argument.

I crawl toward her, a mixture of urgency and anticipation in my movements. Once I’m seated on her thigh, I start to ride it slowly, the friction sending waves of pleasure through me. I truly can’t believe we haven’t done this before. The way she flexes, the way I can feel her muscle.. it’s all too much.

I roll my head back, needing more. My hands find Paige’s boxers, slipping into them with ease as she watches, her eyes moving more than her actual head. My fingers find their way to her core, exploring.

Paige’s breath hitches, her fingers gripping my hip as she watches me intently. “You like that, don’t you?” she breathes, her voice filled with a mixture of desire and all things Paige. “You’ve got me exactly where you want me.”

I stare at her. My body and arm moving repeatedly, my hair a bit puffy at this rate, and a panting mess. Paige raises her thumb to my plump and parted lips, slipping it in. I moan out, forced to suck around it as I squeeze my eyes shut.

Paige is in a trance, completely focused on the warmth around her thumb and how your small fingers disappear into her. “So, so, so good. Love seeing you above me, baby. So pretty.” I couldn’t understand how she could say things like these, and happen to not mean them, but it was the last thing on my mind.

“Mfmfmm, I’m gonna come. Again.”

Paige’s response is a series of breathy moans, her hands gripping my hips tightly as she keeps me pressed down, every thrust and touch pushing us both closer to the edge.

As she finally shudders, her release crashes over her like a tidal wave, her body trembling violently. The sensation of her coming around my fingers makes my own climax come shortly after. I cry out, my own pleasure peaking as I grind against her, my fingers thrusting in and out.

Our combined releases feel explosive, a storm of heat and passion that has us both gasping and moaning. I feel her tremors against my fingers as I continue to move, riding out the last waves of ecstasy before finally collapsing against her, both of us spent and tangled together in a sated, sweaty mess.

I think I’ll regret this in the morning. But right now? I’ve never been happier.

[propertyofwicked]

TAKE ME DANCING - LN

based on this request! ✧ my inbox is open for requests (or if u just want a chat!) ✧

warnings - smut! MDNI!! oral (fem receiving), possessive!lando (but also kinda cute - smut is marked ✿)

masterlist the playlist

the pulsating beat of the music reverberated through the club as lando and y/n made their way inside. the flashing lights, the energy, the sheer about of people everywhere was overwhelming, and she couldn't help but feel a little out of place.

this wasn't her scene; y/n would rather be sat in a beer garden, fearing she wouldn’t enjoy the loud music and drunk people bashing into her in a club. but lando - this was his type of place, he seemed to just exude confidence, especially in clubs, and especially when he wore that white shirt, the top few buttons undone.

lando noticed her hesitance, giving her a reassuring smile.

"don't worry, you wanna leave, we leave - ok? ," he said, squeezing her hand gently.

she nodded, trying to keep an open mind as they moved further into the crowd. the dance floor was packed, bodies moving mostly in sync with the pounding rhythm. lando led her to the bar first, using his grip of her hand to pull her closely behind him as they manoeuvred through the crowds of people, smiling occasionally at people he recognised. lando’s hand dropped hers, though not before pulling her close, so he could rest his tanned hands on the bar, leaning forward to catch the attention of the server.

“….and a double malibu coke,” he called out, trying to be heard over the music, before turning to y/n, checking that was what she wanted. she nodded at him quickly.

“and two shots of tequila please!” she added quickly, watching the server nod quickly before settling on lando’s intrigued gaze, “- the quicker im drunk, the quicker i’ll feel comfortable,” she called out, moving her head closer to his so he could hear her.

lando nodded at her, not one to discourage her, though it did concern him when managed to take back both shots without so much as a flinch.

"come on, let's dance!" lando shouted over the music, pulling her towards the dance floor with his free hand, his drink sloshing around in the other as he moved. y/n followed closely, still apprehensive, and still too sober, but lando’s energy was hard to resist.

she moved tentatively at first, unsure of her own movements, her hand reaching to pull her dress down as it rode up her legs. as the drink and music flooded her veins, y/n got into her own rhythm, her hips moving in time with the beat as lando’s hand rested on her hips, his own body moving almost in sync.

lando watched her with a mix of surprise and delight. he had expected her to tolerate the experience at best, and only for his benefit, but here she was, dancing with abandon, lost in the music. he grinned at her, matching the energy and enthusiasm.

“drink?” he asked her, bending down to speak directly in her ear. her hand grabbed the side of his face, keeping it next to hers as she replied with a loud yes, before moving him back to press a sweet kiss to his lips. she was about to follow him back to the bar but a familiar face came bounding towards the two of them.

“y/n in a club? im shocked,” alex called out, “i love your dress,” she added, holding y/n hands out as she stood back to take another look.

“thank you, you look gorgeous,” y/n replied, smiling at the girl.

“is charles here?” lando asked her, not really feeling like joining the girly conversation, to which she simply responded by point at the bar, “perfect - ill be back,” he continued, pressing a kiss to y/n’s forehead before walking over to greet charles.

he kept glancing back at y/n from the bar, half-expecting her to need a break, or to be looking at him, eyes begging him to come back. but each time he looked, there she was, dancing with alex, having the time of her life. the two men decided to join the girls on the dance floor, their hands full with a drinks for their respective partner.

as the night wore on, she showed no sign of stopping. despite not drinking much, y/n found herself emersed in the music, enchanted by the way lando’s hands stayed firmly on her waist as she danced, her back pressing into his chest with every movement.

there was something about the way she moved that made everything else fade into the background. lando could barely think straight, the desire to have her all to himself surged through him, and he found himself drawn to her like a magnet. and when she turned to face him, her eyes sparkling with joy and surprise, he couldn’t help but lean down, his lips brushing against the skin of her cheek before moving to her ear.

“you drive me crazy,” he told her, his voice deep enough to send a shiver down her spine, “you wanna go soon?”

“but im having fun,” she pouted, though he couldn’t see as his face was resting in the crook of her neck, kissing at her skin.

“so am i,” he replied, moving to hold her head in his hands, pressing a kiss to her forehead softly, before leaning down again to add, “but i think id have more fun with my head between your legs.”

her breath hitched at his words, a flush spreading across her cheeks. the intensity in his voice, the possessiveness in his touch, the way he said it so casually. lando’s hands roamed over her body as she pretending to think about his offer, continuing to whisper sweet, sinful promises in her ear.

✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿

it only felt like a few minutes had passed by the time the two were stumbling through the front door of lando’s apartment. y/n remembers saying a quick goodbye to alex, before lando had practically dragged her from the club, though she followed him more than willingly.

lando groaned quietly as soon as his lips pressed on her inner thigh, his fingers pushing the hem of her dress up her body quickly until the fabric pooled on her stomach. his hands ran softly down the sides of her stomach, reaching the band of her underwear, tugging it down her legs, before moving to hold her thighs open for him.

it took one swipe of his tongue on her clit for his brain to grow blank. the grip on her thighs grew firmer, hard enough to leave little marks, nose bumping against her clit as his tongue travelled through her folds.

“you taste so fucking good,” he breathes, his face pulling back to take in the sight in front of him “fuck, angel, you’re so beautiful.”

then, he’s all over her again. lando’s lips wrap around her clit - he can feel himself growing hard at the whines she emitted for him. every flick of his tongue had her back lifting from the bed and her hands tugging at his curls, to which he responded with a quiet moan. the vibrations sent pleasure through her body, her brain turning to mush as she loosened her grip on his curls.

“do that again,” lando grunts, guiding her hands back into his hair, “keep doing that angel.”

his head is spinning, his tongue gliding through her folds before flattening against her clit over and over again. lando’s arm wraps around her waist, pulling her heat closer to him. his fingers to brush against her, coating them with her slick and circling her entrance before slipping his middle finger inside. only the first knuckle was enough to have her squirming beneath him, the arm around her waist fighting to keep her pushed down on the bed.

lando feels the way she tightened around him, desperate to feel him as he pushed his finger fully into her, pulling out quickly before adding a second. his tongue moved through her heat again, tasting her slick as he circled her clit, his fingers curling up into her.

“lan - fuck i-” y/n started, her grip on his curls tightening. her hips jutted up, pushing his face further into her heat as she reached her climax. his finger curl open and closed inside of her as her hips rocked against his face, the grip on his hair loosening as each second of her high passed.

“so good,” lando moaned, kissing at her clit. “taste so good. you can do one more, right, angel?”

[simpjaes]

ONE OF THE DAMNED GIRLS PT.1 (P.SH)

Moving to a city with wild nights and charming days felt like the perfect choice in your head upon finishing college. Hours away from home, you accept a job at a local museum ironically placed dead between a large historic cathedral and a booming gothic nightclub. You were meant to curate the art, not be curated yourself by a local priest who found you with buckled knees outside of said goth club. ― part two here!! | MINORS DNI

PAIRING ― vampire park sunghoon x afab reader  

WORDCOUNT ― 20.4k

CONTENT ―  modern vampire sunghoon, cathedral/chapel settings, blasphemous behavior, false holy facades, the main vampire trope i use is the act of drinking blood, luring, and living forever, heavy manipulation and toxic behaviors, mentions of reader being alt/goth

SIDE CHARACTERS―  jungwon as your very very best friend who has an installation at the museum (you guys are attached at the hip), jay as the hot bisexual bartender at the goth club, some goth guy named balor 

!WARNINGS! ― dubious consent (due to the act of mind manipulation), hunting and playing victim, a lot of blood: blood sucking, wounds/puncturing, menstruation in a sexual light, manipulation, near-death experiences, fainting, talk of death, acts of mind control/luring 

NOTE ― here is part one of the first vampire fic i've ever felt compelled to write in my life. shout out to me, myself, and i for being entirely deranged and coming up with on a whim based on a song a lovely anon sent to me. this is semi-proof read, and does require two parts to get the full story.

tags under cut

smut tags [ these tags refer to both parts of the fic] ― big meat sunghoon, biting, A LOT OF BLOOD, sucking and drinking of blood obv, pussy eating (once while reader is menstruating, and another time where she isn’t), deep penetration, rough sex, unprotected sex bc like…he’s dead so lmfao, missionary, scratching, dirty talk, body worship, praise, jungwon is involved in a bit of an erotic situation but there is not smut involving him, 

other tags [ these tags refer to both parts of the fic]― depictions of death, anti-religious language, the act of dying including intense descriptions of the feeling, mentions of pimping and human trafficking, corrupt government, dead nuns, funerals

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Upon moving to this city, all you have in your mind is the future. Of what could possibly come of you here? The museum is truly beautiful, propped in the center of the historic district, a mere ten or so blocks from your newly renovated apartment. 

Years worth of study has led you here and honestly you’re sure you never would have found this city as lovable as it is if it weren’t for those credit hours you poured into art history and architecture. Truly, you feel at home here. Especially working within the historic district at that beautiful museum. 

The rest of the city is quite modern. A bit boring to look at if you’re being honest but, thankfully, your place of work offers much for the eye to devour. The museum itself is quite victorian, with rococo styling throughout. Many could call this an eye sore, but you find yourself loving every inch of the place. You feel like a willow wisp in the clutches of that museum, and honestly you’re more than excited to grow bored of seeing such beauty on a day to day basis. 

Across the street sits another old building, also victorian in style. The large and tacky sign glowing with neon lights that reads “AFTER LIFE” goes to show that it’s very clearly a club. And the attire of those who go to and fro through the doors only further proves that it’s more than just that. It’s a goth club. 

Which, arguably, high-school you would’ve died to be able to attend. Thankfully, that little goth girl inside of you still lives strong and surely the club will be a place you’ll frequent during your free time. It’s not too hard to dress the part considering you are an art loser. The majority of your clothing consists of black, colored hair, and wild make up anyway. All you gotta do is forego the ratty coveralls or the typical business quirky you go for at work and you’re good to go. 

Last but not least regarding the charm of the historic district, your favorite site. One that is so profound to you and likely everyone else who visits this town mostly because, well, there isn’t much mention of it on any website regarding the city. In fact, you weren’t aware that such a place existed here until the day you came to view your apartment for the first time. 

Seeing it loom from the apartment window very nearly had you sign the lease without so much as looking at the cabinet space or the bathroom setup. 

No, nothing in that historic district, absolutely nothing in this city, rivals that of the cathedral that towers above both the club and museum. 

There, parked just three blocks down from your place of work, sits the cathedral. Clearly old but well maintained, you can just tell that the building has seen more than enough through the passing decades. The arches are pointed and towering, and the flying buttresses only further your heart to beat with love and admiration for what men could build at one point in time. 

You’ll never understand why the preferred style these days consists of primary shapes, anyway. Boxes, cones, spheres. Never twisting hallways or nooks and crannies to hide in. You miss the depth of which buildings used to be. Inside practically a maze, outside a wondrous presentation of knife-sharp features. So intricate, so many lines to trace.

What a shame to find yourself living in a space that’s a mish-mash of perfect boxes, but it’s not so bad when the window offers a daydream, at least. 

You’re in love each time you gaze upon the building, actually. It’s a forever reminder that no human being on this earth could make you feel such excitement. Perhaps you’re just a nerd for gothic architecture though. Honestly, it’s a shame that this cathedral seems to be a forgotten gem despite how it’s blatantly visible at almost any view point in the city. 

Fortunately for you, this only goes to show that the historic district is just that. There for those who admire, and not for those who gawk. There seems to be rarely any stray humans making their way down this street without at least an inkling of interest in the ancient life that’s been breathed here. 

If anything, the streets are filled with what you can assume to be open-minded individuals. Your first day at work showed that much. Tattooed bodies, pierced faces, wild hair, even wilder attire. Yes, you feel right at home. 

And despite the excitement of living in a new city where you seem to fit like a puzzle piece, life can still grow boring after a certain amount of time has passed. For you, it’s taken about three weeks of training, well-slept nights, and cozy days. 

Even through the summer, the nights still have a chill in the air. Which is nice but even your night-time walks have become an auto-pilot task that offers nothing new to your forever hungry brain. So, with the weekend fast approaching, you figure there’s no better time than now to dust off those hot platform boots you bought on a whim years ago and have yet to wear. 

You’re going to the booming “after life”. 

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Well.

“After life” is certainly a perfect name for the club if the intensity of the drinks alone is anything to go by. Inside is adorned with stark black walls and silver trim, loads upon loads of purple and red curtains, women and men near-nude wrapped in straps and chains. 

It only took two drinks to see the black painted walls as a beautiful void in space with wonderful dancing bodies falling into it. You can’t stop smiling through the warmth in your cheeks and dancing to deep bass with husky voiced music. Your arms stay in the air as you dance, and you welcome any dancing partner up until your third drink. 

God, the drinks are strong. Or perhaps it’s just the specific drink you’ve grown partial to. One they call “Red Death”, which according to the handsome bartender, was quite popular in the 90s. You see exactly why it was so popular, considering it basically hit you like a fucking truck in the middle of this club and has you stumbling out the front door without so much as remembering why your feet are moving in the first place. 

Unsure of how much time has passed since you got here, you nearly forget the extra five inches under your feet as you stumble your way through the heavy doors in front of the club. A kind bouncer with the whites of his eyes tattooed helps you with your balance as you step out, chuckling and noting that you’re definitely new here.

His strong hold on you is kind and gentle compared to the bouncers outside of the clubs back home, and despite how drunk you are, you still feel as safe as you do inside of your own apartment when he gives you a small “woah there.”

Thankfully, he keeps to himself after helping you regain balance, once again unlike most bouncers at clubs. You’re left to your own drunken plans now as you wobble around the building in search of a bench to sit on and sober up. Thankfully, that very bench is found sitting lonely on the backside of the building. You can still hear the muffled music from inside, but you’re currently spinning and able to hear just about anything, you think. 

You hear your ass thump to the ground when you try to take a seat, missing the bench completely and falling a full two feet with your head hitting the bricked wall behind you. 

Honestly, all you can do is laugh at yourself as you hold your head. The fall didn’t hurt, and thank fuck no one is around to have witnessed that from you. To think your senses are enhanced at this moment is quite a feat, considering you were so focused on hearing everything that you completely forgot to determine which of the two benches in your drunken vision was the real one.

And as you accept your seat on the ground as the space you’ll sober up in, your senses prove yet again to at least be slightly more amplified than usual. 

A heavy scent of cinnamon wafts through your nose as you breathe in the brisk summer air and immediately you try to adjust your eyes to whatever the scent is coming from. Or, whoever.

Then, a cold hand on your shoulder. You didn’t even see him before smelling or feeling him, but somehow, your vision adjusts immediately as if you’re not drunk at all.

In fact, looking at the man is entirely sobering. 

“Child, temptation has you by the throat.”

“I’m no child.” You scoff at the voice reaching your ears, frustrated as you try to chase the fizzling drunk feeling. A waste of money, you could say, to lose the dizzy feeling so fucking fast. 

The man stands in front of you, clad in black, offering a gentle smile. 

You can imagine you look a mess, sitting on the ground outside of a night club, but that should be expected you’d think. 

“It’s a figure of speech.” The man shrugs with a chuckle. “Now, now. Allow me to help you, my dear, you are in no shape to be left to your own devices.”

You look up at him, noting that the man appears to be a priest. What kind of priest wanders around goth clubs this time of the night? 

Then again, you don’t even know what time it is. What you do know is that you’re nearly entirely sober now for some fucking reason, and you absolutely can be left to your own devices. 

“No, I’m fine. I don’t live too far.” You shake your head at him, but he pulls you up anyway. 

Oh, a rush of woozy nausea. Your ankles buckle immediately upon trying to stand and the man simply keeps his smile aimed at you. 

“My conscience will not allow me to leave you be.” He says, taking your arm and leading you further down the street.

You’re unsure as to why you don’t fight him on it now. There’s a feeling in your body that tells you to go with him, and who are you to fight it? 

Strangely enough, your eyes sparkle as he leads you straight to that very cathedral that floods your thoughts on most weekdays during work. So big, so beautiful, so otherworldly to see so closely. 

You stare up at the towering building even as he helps you through the doors, and then your eyes immediately adjust to the vaulted ceilings and darkened stained glass windows with only the moonlight shining through. 

God, it’s more beautiful inside. 

You’re entirely mesmerized by the building, blinking up at every inch of the walls and ceiling. It’s pristine inside compared to the outside, and the floors shine so beautifully even in the low-light. Your boots stomp with each step against the well-maintained floors, to the point you can feel the vibrations running from your toes to the top of your head. 

You can feel your skin tighten at the viewing experience, every hair on your body raising in euphoria, pupils growing wide and dark. You smile, feeling your face flush as if you’ve got a man between your legs. There is no man though though, no. Just big arches and echoed footsteps.

It’s simply too beautiful to comprehend with a semi-drunken brain for the first time. 

The man saunters through the building with you in tow a bit too quickly than you’d prefer though. You try to soak in the image of the main chapel before he leads you away from it, and thankfully you caught a decent look at the gold and silver adornments surrounding a centered altar. The figure within the altar didn’t quite get more than a glance, but you could have sworn it was no religious figure that you know the name of. 

And then, within three blinks, you’re in a corridor where whispering nuns look on. Their voices sound high-pitched even in a whisper but it slows your heart rate down to that of near sleep. Drowsiness overtakes you as you blink out of sync, barely able to comprehend that you should be at home rather than in this wondrous and magnificent building with a strange priest. 

Still, even as the corridor grows less and less extravagant, where the stomping of your boots on the floor turns to that of breaking up dust and weighing down creaking wood, you find it all the more beautiful behind your heavy-lidded eyes.

The deeper into the cathedral you go, the older it becomes. Where electricity turns to candles, and then candles turn to pure moonlight shining through stained glass windows. 

Even up the spiraling concrete stairs, you feel your feet carry you more than the priest with his back turned to you. He wouldn’t need to lead you through this building at all, as the feeling in your gut would likely have you explore the place inch by inch if you were given the permission. 

Still, even while your mind is sober but your body is drunk, you find it hard to believe that people still reside here. Never once seeing anyone come from the cathedral since being in this city. And trust, you have honestly stared at it day after day during work. 

That means nothing to you now though, considering you’re inside the building, being led to a small room for sleep where your sleepy eyes devour the small bed against the wall.

The man who led you here lends no more words or thoughts to you as he steps inside, presents the room to you, and then quickly leaves with that same smile he gave you outside of the club. 

A nun replaces him with light and silent footsteps, running past you to fluff the flattened pillow on the bed. Another came in behind her with a small bowl of crackers and a glass of water. She holds out the bowl and glass, urging you to take them from her. 

Naturally, you do. Popping a cracker into your mouth and instantly feeling it soak up any saliva in your mouth, leaving it feeling dry and sore before you sip the water. And with a nod from the two nuns, they leave you be. 

This room appears to be that for refuge, surely for those the church takes in when they’re in need of a warm bed and some food. 

You smile, saying nothing as you sit down on the bed and place the glass and bowl on the small ledge by the window. There, you take off your boots and flop back without so much as sinking under the thin covers, and you fall asleep as if there’s nowhere else on this earth you’d rather be. 

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

The sun feels warm against your face when you stir from your slumber. Your eyes feel heavy though, so you simply lay here and breathe in the strange heavy air. Your eyebrows furrow at the feeling of the bed beneath you. Stiff, hard, uncomfortable. Clearly, you’re not at home. 

And, well, that’s when the happenings of last night dawn on you. You can barely comprehend what the helpful priest looked like, better yet how long it took for your feet to carry you to this room.

When you open your eyes and squint to look out of the stained window, most of the city is distorted through the tinted colors, but you can tell that you’re quite high up in the building. Then again, the throbbing in your feet could have probably told you that. 

Still, sitting in this bed now feels much more uncomfortable than it did when you initially laid down. Your head pounds as you pinch the bridge of your nose, squinting around the room and trying to grasp your memory. 

The only thing you remember is the cold hand that guided you here and every beautiful inch of the cathedral. Which can only mean, you have no fucking idea how to get out of here.

Oh, the horror and embarrassment of needing to search for someone to help you leave feels unfamiliar and uncomfortable. Surely, if you’re silent with your feet, you can search the halls until you manage to find a back door, right? At least the route would be scenic and interesting if you can manage it.

And, well, you do try. Searching for a staircase the moment you leave your room simply because you know that the only way home is down at least a hundred steps. Strangely enough, your instincts seem to know exactly where to go. 

Somehow.

Your socked feet carry you straight downstairs and to the main cathedral. You weren’t necessarily expecting to find a room full of people upon entering the space either. After all, if it were Sunday perhaps you’d have to drag your hungover ass past a crowd participating in Sunday mass. 

Despite never seeing a soul enter this cathedral save for yourself and that priest. 

Weird, there are a few people with bowed heads sitting in the pews of the main chapel. All appear to be clad in black and gold, one or two others with silver. Not entirely cloaked but still incredibly eerie from behind as you look on with each silent foot step. 

And suddenly, your body freezes. 

There, at the center of the altar stands a stoic man. Posture so straight you could argue he is nothing but an ancient statue. Behind him, you note that there is an actual statue of a figure standing much the same, far too distant to make out the face of. 

Only for a moment do you recall glancing at the statue from the night before, noting how it resembled no god nor deity that you’re aware of. It doesn’t even resemble a human the longer you stare at it, actually.

Ah. Yes. The vibes in this cathedral are off. From your feet somehow knowing the place as if it’s your own home to the silent chapel bowing their heads to an even more silent man standing frozen in the center. If at all, you feel like you’ve been caught in a photo, stuck with your feet on this single tile with the front doors just out of your reach. 

That is, until one of those whispering nuns makes her way to you, tapping your shoulder with a nod and a very quiet, “Shall I see you out?” 

And she does, opening the large doors for you and closing them behind you without so much as a sound. 

Strange, because you remember the echo of those doors closing from the night before. But whatever, you guess, as you’re assaulted with the bright afternoon sun forcing your eyes to tear up. 

You take a step through the flash-bang of summer air, slowly adjusting your eyesight to the very museum you work at. Bustling with your co-workers who are made to work this weekend, you try to avoid being seen. After all, as a new employee, the last thing you need is to be perceived as a hungover mess while walking out of that weird fucking cathedral with nothing more than socked feet and a pair of stompers held against your chest.

And so, you make the short trek home, thankful for the walkable city but entirely unthankful for the charming weather your realtor promised for this time of the year. It’s fresher than you’d like for it to be outside today, the warm sun keeping you at a perfect temperature while the cold breeze offers a shiver here and there. 

You’re not sure why it pisses you off. It’s probably the headache that only pounds harder and harder with each step you take. 

Finally, you make it to your apartment. You feel cold when you step inside the lobby and make your way up. Somehow you feel even colder when find yourself at the window, gazing at the same cathedral you just spent the night in, looking hazy in the afternoon sun. 

It looms there in the city, with its elder rooted walls and pointed arches. Still so beautiful, still so mysterious, still so fucking luring. 

Even after sleeping there, and even after you felt the vibrations inside skew your comfort, it stands out not only in the city, but in your brain. With the modern city only forcing it to stick out like a sore thumb, you can argue that the city could be just as old and still that cathedral would offer a shiver down your spine. 

Your head pulses at the sunlight shining through your window, forcing your eyes from the darkened haunt, and you’re quick to make your way to the kitchen to rummage for something to help with the headache. 

And by the time you flop down on your couch, you drift back to sleep, realizing that you’re not entirely sure if you slept at all the night before. Despite waking up, despite not remembering a thing from after you laid down, and despite feeling rejuvenated in every aspect aside from sleep. 

That rejuvenation strangely drains you more as you drift to sleep, finding it so unnatural that you willingly slept in a maze filled with no face you can put a name to.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Making your first friend feels good. Weeks worth of pretending and hoping you and your co-workers would somehow become besties outside of the museum walls fell short, after all. Not that you don’t consider them friends, it’s more so just the fact that they’re all a bit too stoic and up-tight for you. 

You’re quite a bit younger as well. You can tell that they lost their spark for creating art years ago, if they ever even created it in the first place, anyway. It’s all just curating, curating, curating for them. An eye for beauty only, which is respected and appreciated but still, no eye for fun outside of these walls though. 

That’s where Jungwon comes in. A young artist with first-installation jitters dimpling his cheeks as he offers the smallest “hello” that you think you’ve ever heard from another person. 

He’s similar to you in the way he dresses. He works hard, amazing you with each piece of his collection that’s pulled from a tightly packed box, filled with bubble wrap and slammed with “FRAGILE” stickers. 

Arguably, you don’t need to be friends with your co-workers when you have artists like him coming in and out every few months. He’s quite lively, very excited, and almost clumsy in the way he carries himself. 

You were endeared with him the moment you met him and honestly just three days in, the two of you are practically attached at the hip as you push and work hard alongside him to set up the installation as perfectly as possible for the following weekend. 

And, well, the first showing went off without a hitch. His smiling face could have been seen for miles, you think, as you watch him mingle and blush at each compliment and critique of his work.

So bright. 

So full of life.

The exact person you’d want to be around. 

“Jungwon–” You elbow him in the side as he nods and shakes hands through each farewell while the museum comes to its close for the night. “It’s Friday.” You smile. 

He nods you off, paying close attention to each face that came to visit his work. And only when the halls are empty does he make his way back to you with a deep exhale and a loud, relieved groan. 

“Finally.” He huffs, blowing a strand of his hair up and into the air. “Just fifty nine more days to go.” 

You roll your eyes fondly at him already counting down until the two of you are scheduled to take down his work. 

“You do know you only need to be here for opening night, right?” You laugh.

“Well, yeah.” He shrugs. “But it’s my first installation, I worry some kid will come wipe his snotty nose all over my hard work.” 

You chuckle, he chuckles, and then you turn to face him. 

“So, it’s Friday.” 

He bounces on his feet. 

“Yeah, glad to see you seem to grasp the idea of fleeting time and whatnot.” He looks at you with a mischievous smile. “What about it?”

“We should go out. The club across the street has really strong drinks for half the price as most places.” 

You watch as Jungwon’s eyes shine when they flick behind you to glance out the window. Then his face falls, his eyebrow raises, and he tilts his head. 

“You do realize we’ve been here for like, eighteen hours straight, right?” 

You nod casually with a shrug.

“I live super close by, if we get tired, you can just crash on my couch.” 

He pretends like he thinks it over for more than two seconds before ultimately accepting the offer of fun. 

“Cool. Wanna meet me there in an hour? I should probably change and stuff first.” 

You eye over his outfit, and then give yourself a quick glance. 

“Good plan.” You smile, backing away and throwing your bag over your shoulder. “An hour. Be there.” 

You both nod in agreement and go your separate ways. Sleepy, but entirely willing to celebrate Jungwon’s huge accomplishment with drinks that have already proven to be too strong. 

The hour passes quickly, wearing that same pair of boots for a second time now that you have the perfect place and reason to stomp around in them. This time, you even go as far as darkening your lips and smearing your mascara just a smidge. After all, you’re definitely gonna get drunk and your makeup will be smeared by the end of the night regardless. 

You gasp upon seeing Jungwon’s chosen attire, offering him an “Ooooh” the second you walk up to him. He had been leaning against the front doors of the museum, as if he’s simply an on looker and not a working artist with a top-notch showcase within those walls. 

He lends you a matching “Ahhhh” upon seeing your chosen outfit. Both of you somehow match in a way that makes this appear more like a date night rather than friends getting drinks. Which is kind of cute and a welcomed idea if the two of you have one to many and accidentally start making out or something. 

It feels platonic enough to laugh off in the morning, anyway. And really, while his boots don’t lend him extra height, he stomps around in them much like you do your own. With his black knit sweater littered in frays and pulled yarn, and his hair intentionally messed up. 

“Wonnie,” You offer the nickname easily as you grab onto his arm and check the street for cars before beginning to cross. “I think some eyeliner could finish off your look.” You laugh as the two of you practically prance with heavy boots to the club. 

He smiles at the nickname, hiding his face only slightly in his sweater when he blinks back at you with sparkly eyes. 

“Really?” He smiles, dimples on full display for the tattooed bodies lined up outside, already checking out the artist. 

“Yeah, oh–” You huff, digging in your small shoulder bag. “I have some, let’s do the finishing touch.” 

And when the two of you stand at the back of the line, you do just that. Carefully holding his cheek in one hand and lining the lower lashes on his left eye. 

He doesn’t even close his eyes, and instead looks up into the night sky with that same dimple showing. Blinking every few seconds at the sensitivity, ignoring the fact that his eyes start to prickle at the feeling. 

“It tickles,” He chuckles in a hushed whisper, never having a friend be so close to his face like this before. “How do you manage to do this every day?”

“I guess you just get used to it after a while.” You focus on the way the darkened color brings his eye to seem more catty than it already was, taking your thumb and swiping the bottom lid to smear the charcoal makeup.

You note how innocent and shining his other eye looks compared. Nevertheless, you go to rest your hand on his other cheek now.

Just for a moment, his eyes flash down to look at you. So, so close to his face. Instantly, you lend him a pause and your own smile. 

“You’re blushing.” You laugh, holding your hand steady in wait as he shifts his weight to the other leg out of natural nervousness. 

“Sorry,” He whispers out, blinking frantically to prepare for his other eye to tickle. “I’m not used to being this close to someone.”

Ah, you don’t believe that for a second.

“Look up.” You instruct, already lining his other lashes. “Feels like I’m putting the finishing touches to a masterpiece.” You add in a lame chuckle, feeling a little flustered yourself the more you note how his eyes water at the tickle. They shine so pretty.

He laughs out at your comment, a hand shooting to your wrist as you smear the liner on him. Not to be intimate or anything, just simply to steady your hand more.

“I guess I am kinda the canvas like this, huh?” He comments, standing as still as he can while looking up at the moon. “Hey–”

“Hm?” You say, pulling your hand back now and doing the same with your thumb to smear the make up into perfection on his flawless little face. 

“What kind of gum is that?” He asks, blinking a few times before adjusting his eyes properly and pretending like he can’t feel the waxy substance caked on his lashes. 

“Just regular spearmint.” You give him a half smile. “Why, you want a piece?” 

He nods, mostly because if he had known you were going to get this close to his face, he probably would have already had some type of candy in his mouth.

Again, it’s not like he has feelings or anything. It’s just, well, it’s always intimate to have someone so close to you. In your space. Your bubble. No one ever gets that close unless they want to kiss. Or, he guesses, if they’re putting eyeliner on you. 

“You look really cute,” You comment now, stepping back after giving him a piece of gum and looking over how the smeared makeup really does complete his look. “Should’ve brought one of my chokers too. Now that, yeah.” 

“Huh?” He tilts his head as the two of you move up the line. “You’re really into this kind of scene aren’t you?”

You nod shyly. 

“Was a total mall goth back when I was a teenager. I would’ve stalked you around the mall if you looked like this back then, really. Totally my type.”

He lends a bashful blink and a half-hearted laugh, stuffing his hands into his pockets and looking to the ground. 

“Well, when I was a teenager I looked like the person who invented calculus.” 

“And now you’re just a little work of art, huh?” You continue the cringey art-jokes, mostly because you like the way he tries to pretend they’re funny rather than utterly horrifying. 

And he does smile at it, ears flowing with heat as he blushes. He probably wouldn’t feel so shy if it weren’t for the fact that he also heard compliments all day about his art. He’s a bit sensitive right now.

“I guess so.” He accepts your compliment like all the others, lifting his shoulder to his cheek with a squinted eye. It’s nice to feel like the world’s favorite person for a night, truly.

And the conversation is even easier from here on out. Albeit, a bit flirty but it stills platonic enough to where the two of you are just…in a comfortable little bubble surrounded by faces you don’t know. Perhaps playing the part of being two individuals who came to a club together rather than separately and alone. 

As the hours pass, there are several strangers approaching the two of you. Words of “need a third?” and “well aren’t you two just fucking perfect?” 

Jungwon basks in it, snickering quietly with you but never denying a single accusation. The two of you play along. Drinking, dancing, and then more drinking. Up until Jungwon decides he’s held his bladder long enough and is off in search of a bathroom while you make your way to the bar. 

For more drinks, of course. Not to hit on the bartender you met the first time you came here.

“Another red death?” The man with inky red hair smiles at you, already grabbing a glass and starting your drink. 

“Yes but, can I actually–” You pause, glancing at the other man behind the bar. 

Red haired man laughs knowingly with a nod and a side eye before pointing silently at his co-worker and raising a brow at you.

You nod back, dipping your face only slightly when you see him take two steps back and whisper to the man. 

Instantly, you feel a bit more shy over asking to be served by this guy but goddamn. His dark hair looks slightly damp when his eyes glance to you upon whatever is being whispered in his ear, probably from something spewing in his face after being shaken up, or perhaps from sweat. 

You try to avoid eye contact under the man’s gaze when he walks over and in front of you. Sharp jaw, silver chain, loose black t-shirt revealing equally as damp collar bones.

God. The shirt is sticking to him. 

“Babe, my eyes are up here.” He laughs, holding an empty cup and leaning on the bar towards you. “Had a little too much to drink again?” 

You nod, dazed by his dark eyes before immediately shaking your head. 

“Red death, please. Two of them.” 

The man nods with a knowing smile. 

“I saw that you came here with someone.” 

He’s flirting. Mostly for tips but it’s not like he hasn’t been known to take people home from work before so, wherever it goes is where it goes for him. 

“Jay, can you grab me the-” The red haired bartender says from behind, and Jay, presumably, hands him a bottle without so much as letting him finish the sentence. 

“He’s cute.” Jay continues talking to you, enjoying the way you don’t realize how you fold in on yourself. “Any reason as to why you asked me to make your drink?”

“Um, oh,” You were gonna be bold, but you feel Jungwon suddenly clinging to you from behind, eyeing the bartender just like you are. “I just think you make them better.” 

“Did he just say I’m cute?” Jungwon whispers behind your ear, watching the man’s hands as he makes the drinks with expert knowledge. 

“You’re both cute.” The bartender smirks, looking between both of you and then offering a wink. “This round is on me.” He adds, sliding both cups forward and brushing your hand just for a moment before turning his attention to someone else. 

Honestly, it’s like you and Jungwon are the same person at this moment when you grab your drinks and you turn to face each other. 

Both of you, bouncing on your feet with whispered squeals over the hot bartender including both of you in the compliment. 

“Oh my god.” You stare forward, tasting the drink and noting that there somehow seems to be more alcohol in this one. “He’s so–”

Jungwon nods to you excitedly, sipping his drink quickly before glancing behind you and meeting the eye of the bartender again. 

“He was just looking at your ass.” He comments, flipping his body to cling to your arm and now turning his back to Jay “You think he’s gonna check mine out too?”

You nod with a snicker, the song changing and the tempo instantly drowning your thoughts. 

“I love this song!” You shout with drunken glee, already making your way from the bar but keeping that little thought that hopefully, Jay will keep glancing at the two of you simply because it’s fun to be watched by a hottie. 

And Jungwon just goes with your flow. Dancing with sticky sweet lips, eyes glazed over from the music and mood. His makeup looks more beautiful now paired with strands of his hair sticking to his sweaty forehead. 

You don’t think you’ve ever seen dimples so fucking deep before, and it’s almost painful to remember his face without that smile plastered on it. 

“Wonnie,” You grab him by the shoulder and pull him against you, ignoring how his hair dips into your drink for a moment. “I think you’re my best friend.”

And the way he pulls back with a gasp, smiling wider? It shatters your heart just so it can grow larger. 

“I am?” He does a little bounce through his dance move, eyes shining in the strobe lights, flashes of red and purple shading his cheeks, only deepening those dimples. “Really?”

Never have you enjoyed spending time with someone like this. Never without crushing hard, never without wanting to take them home and fuck them until you can’t walk. Jungwon is different though. He really does feel like a long lost best friend, like the part of you that has been missing for far too long. 

The moment you met him, you clicked in a way that didn’t involve a dick or a hole. I mean, sure you’d probably fuck him for funsies but there’s really no point in it because you feel perfectly happy, perfectly fulfilled, just having him spend his free time with you. 

Surely when he has to travel back home, you’re going to cry. 

“Why do you have to live so far away?” You pause your dancing, making yourself sad at the thought that he will only be here for a few weeks. “Who am I gonna hang out with when you leave?”

Jungwon lends you a pouty sound, a coo, almost. 

“I only live an hour away.” He laughs, leaning forward and plastering his sweaty forehead to yours with a slurred shout so you can hear him clearly. “I’ll come see you all the time!” 

And with that, the mood seeps right back into your veins as the smile overtakes you. 

You dance with him, forehead to forehead for a long, long, while. Up until the club is so crowded with people that Jay couldn’t possibly be paying attention to anything other than making drinks, and you couldn’t possibly pay attention to anything other than the music vibrating the alcohol in your stomach. 

It’s almost suffocating, as you feel a pang in your chest of overheated anxiety. You breathe in, smelling the fifth piece of gum that Jungwon slipped from your pocket on his breath. You exhale, smelling your own sweet alcohol breath before pulling back and dragging Jungwon by the hand into the only corner not packed with people. 

“You okay?” Jungwon slurs as he sways in front of you, eyes trying their best to seem concerned. “You look like you might get sick.” 

You nod, feeling your mouth fill with warm saliva indicating that you should probably go to the bathroom now. 

“Okay, lets get you to-” 

You cut Jungwon off with an off balance sprint to the bathroom and somehow he keeps pace with you, gripping your shirt and refusing to lose you in the crowd. 

Unfortunately, as you press on your stomach to somehow hold down whatever is trying to come up, you notice how there’s a very long line for the bathroom. 

And it’s still suffocating in here. 

And your mouth tastes too sweet. And the music is too loud.

“Let’s go outside!” Jungwon shouts against your ear, vibrating your brain as he navigates you through the crowd himself, pressing you up against the front doors of the club before pushing you outside with him close behind.

The waft of breezy summer air instantly fills your lungs and your stomach settles at the space you have to yourself now. 

You stumble forward, making your way around the same concerned bouncer from before who only smiles at you and Jungwon struggling to find your footing. 

And, like the best friend you knew he became, he tries his best to be the sober friend right now. His voice wavers and crackers when he speaks, but his hands are firm on both of your shoulders as he presses you against the wall behind you. 

“Stay here.” Jungwon says with concern still in his voice. “I’m gonna run back in and get us some water, okay?” 

And you nod in a daze as your eyes follow him when he disappears back inside. You note how he says something to the bouncer before opening the doors, and surely he simply asked that the guy keep an eye on you. 

“You should probably eat something soon, sweetheart.” The kind bouncer comments to you in the night air, stepping closer to you and standing just against the wall next to you.

You feel protected by him, so there are no alarm bells ringing. 

“You know I can’t let you back in, right?” He chuckles as he speaks to you calmly. 

“Oh, I bet.” You laugh, breathing in the air again and again, still not regretting the fun you’ve had for the past few hours. “Just gonna sit here and wait for Wonnie, he’ll help me get home.”

“Good, good.” The bouncer confirms your words, still standing protective next to you when you hear the doors fly open and a few seconds of booming music before it’s muffled again. 

Jungwon flops down in front of you on the sidewalk now, two water bottles in hand with a smile on his face. 

“Jay gave me these.” He smiles. “He said if we can handle waiting til closing time he can drive us home.”

You laugh sheepishly. Unfortunately, you’re a bit too drunk and you know you probably wont make it another hour and a half with an additional however much time it’ll take for him to close up the club before needing to pass the fuck out. 

“I think I’ll have to take him up on that next time.” You slur your words. “You’ll help me walk home right, Wonnie? It’s a short walk.” 

Jungwon nods, still doing his best to act as sober as he can, but the bouncer shuts him down fast.

“Oh, I don’t think so buddy.” The bouncer laughs. “You’re both fucked out of your mind.” 

You laugh, Jungwon laughs, and the bouncer throws in his own hearty sigh. 

“Fuck–” You have a sudden, sober thought. “The tab. Jungwon, did we pay the tab?”

He pauses, eyes widening. 

“Shit.” He explains before jumping up on unsteady feet. “Can you help her call for a ride?” He slurs out at the bouncer, only disappearing inside again when the kind goth nods at the request.

And as you sit here in the silence after the bouncer helps you order a ride, a few minutes pass. Your eyes are out of focus as you stare up into the night sky before closing them. 

You could fall asleep right here on the sidewalk if you’re not careful. 

Another few minutes pass, now a loud slam of the doors rings in your tired ears now and you jolt out of the drowsy state, opening your eyes thinking you’ll find Jungwon rushing to you but instead, you note how suddenly you’re entirely alone. 

You don’t know how long you’ve sat here, or where the bouncer went, better yet why Jungwon isn’t back yet but what you do know is that suddenly, you’re mind is sober and fucking assaulted by the smell of cinnamon.

You glance around, trying to focus on the scent and where it’s coming from when– oh.

There, walking down the sidewalk is that fucking priest from before. Tall, clad yet again in black clothes, and he simply pauses his step in front of you. 

“Again?” The man calls out to you with an amused voice, lending you his hand, but you don’t take it. 

Instead, the doors suddenly fly open and Jungwon stumbles out again, nearly tripping over his own feet with an apology of “sorry, jay was trying to convince us to–”

“Uh, hi?” Jungwon interrupts himself as he takes note of the man standing in front of you. “The fuck are you?” He checks the man out, not quite able to focus on him in full.

The priest nods his head at both of you, staring Jungwon up and down before landing his eyes back on you. 

“Get her home safe.” He says nothing else before continuing his nightly stroll. 

And, well, you do get home safe. 

You and Jungwon are a mess of limbs in the short ride to your apartment, and an even messier pile of idiots by the time you make it inside. The couch is long forgotten by the time you close your front door, feeling Jungwon follow you all the way to your plush bed with drunken groans and giggles.

There, you flop onto the bed fully clothed without so much as a happy “goodnight” and you’re both drifting off to sleep. Jungwon’s heavy limbs are thrown on you as he loosely spoons you. Like he’s still trying to take care of you despite the fact that you no longer feel sick, and you’re both perfectly safe behind your apartment walls. 

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Have you no shame? 

Fuck no. 

What about Jungwon? Nah.

Both of you have a pep in your step by the next Friday, waiting for the museum to close so Jungwon can walk home with you and get all dressed up and ready for another fall into the infamous “after life”.

“We should try to stay until closing, maybe Jay will bring us home this time.” Jungwon wiggles his eyebrows as you put his eyeliner on for him again. 

“We’re gonna have to look real good then, yeah?” You smile at his pretty smeared eyes, reaching your hand up and ruffling his hair.

And you do. Both of you dress up in the darkest, blackest, sexiest fit you can find in your closet. Jungwon is sporting one of your pretty, sheer lace undershirts beneath his own unbuttoned black cardigan, pants tight and low on his waist. 

You, with another semi-transparent shirt. Sheer, showing all the goods if you hadn’t put on a nice fitting bralette under it. Cute skirt that shows your thighs, the stompers, of course. 

And the finishing touch this time? Matching chokers. 

“Cute.” You comment, leaning forward and popping a minty kiss to the tip of Jungwon’s nose. 

“You too.” He smiles, pinching your waist before turning to face your vanity mirror and checking himself out. 

Cute is right. Jay’s probably gonna fall to the floor when he gets a look at the two of you. 

And, well. The night is a blur. 

Jay does, in fact, eye the two of you with that sharp smirk like he did last weekend but you, unfortunately, drink far too much yet again. 

Jungwon slowed down a bit towards midnight but he kept an eye on you for the most part. Trying to secure the ride for both of you by orbiting around the bar and making flirty talk with both bartenders when time allowed it. 

You stayed on the dance floor through it. Sometimes dancing with Jungwon when he comes up behind you with clingy hands and updates on the Jay situation, but after a few songs he’d wander off again. 

It’s nice, kind of. Having someone with you that can maintain control through your own drunken stupidity. You don’t mind dancing alone, after all, you’re not entirely alone giving the pretty men and girls who come by to dance with you every other song when Jungwon isn’t around.

And of course, around the same time as last time, you find your mind feeling suffocated by the time the club is at capacity. 

You sway on the dance floor in search of Jungwon, unsure of which way the bar is because your eyes simply can’t adjust to the darkness and flashing lights by this point. 

Dimples. You need to find the sunshine face in this void of darkness. 

And you search. 

And search. 

Until you’re stumbling out the front doors alone, knowing that if Jungwon is looking for you, he’ll probably know you stepped out to breathe at some point. 

Just like the week before, the crip summer air outside instantly settles your stomach and breathing comes easier. You feel more sober than you thought you were as you sit here, making small talk with the bouncer who finally introduces himself to you. 

“That’s a good name for a big goth teddy bear.” You mock the man. “Balor.”

“In the flesh.” The man waves you off. 

And then, suddenly, the bouncer is stepping closer to you with a stiffened shoulder, the air outside shifting to something else for him, but you’re completely unaware of it. 

“I need to step inside for a moment, will you be alright for a few minutes?” He knows he shouldn’t step inside, but in all fairness, it’s kind of the protocol at this point. 

Considering that man has made himself very clear that if he’s near the club at all, it’s for good reason and he’s not to be interrupted. At least, that’s what code is for the bouncers here at this club. 

It’s a shame though, to know he has to leave you to the night. You’re a fun girl, peppy and sweet, not rude or hard to make small talk with on the long nights of work. Maybe you drink a little too much, but still. It’s not like the bouncer knows why he is to leave the sidewalk when a certain someone wanders by. What he does know is that more often than not, he’ll sink away inside only to resume his position alone, with no one left on the sidewalk.

Probably just a pimp. 

Or human trafficking. 

He isn’t sure, but time and time again he has been told to leave it be. That it’s nothing wretched. That it’s simply a territory that isn’t their own. 

Still, you nod to the bouncer. 

“If you see Wonnie, can you scold him for letting me get lost?” 

You miss the look of concern on the bouncer’s face. 

“Hey, come back inside, I’ll help you find him.”

“Oh, hello again.” A voice echoes from around the corner, causing the bouncer’s shoulders to fall as he immediately offers you a small “I'll find him–” before disappearing behind the heavy doors with haste. 

And then, cinnamon. The spicy scent wafting through you so fast that you’re almost dizzy. 

More dizzy than you already were, anyway.

“Have you learned nothing?” The priest walks up to you, chuckling and raising his eyebrows. 

“Weird ass priest.” You say, paying no mind to the happenings of just now, totally unaware of the energy surrounding you.

“And to what god do you believe I pray?” He tilts his head as he stands in front of you, hands behind his back, leaning down at the waist to position his face in front of yours. 

The question makes you look up at him with a skewed brow. 

“The usual one?” You ask, rolling your eyes at the silly meeting. 

Again.

A third meeting. 

“Ah, the usual one.” He mocks, nodding his head before standing back up and towering over you. “Do you seek him out?” 

You nod momentarily, having never been religious but at this moment, as drunk as you are and as alone as you feel with this strange man, only god could answer your curious question as to why you keep meeting him. 

As to why you’re always all on your own when he appears. 

As to why he forces a hope in your mind that god is really out there, and he’ll protect you when the bouncer isn’t here.

“Was that a nod?” He smiles at you, landing a cold hand on your shoulder. 

“Yes,” You whisper out, feeling heavy and more and more dizzy by the moment. Not from the alcohol but from something else. “Do you know where I can find him?” 

Your voice calls out on its own to him. You don’t recall wanting to ask him that, nor do you recall even thinking those words before saying them.

“He’s right here, love–” The priest pulls back, presenting the space in front of him before turning his hands inward and presenting himself to you. “I am God.”

You freeze, a rush of cold running through your veins. Surely you’re hearing him wrong despite that voice echoing those words in your head three, four, five, six times. 

“Isn’t that considered blasphemy?” You try to play it off in a joke, hiding the chill down your spine. 

Pretending you’re not interested. 

Wondering why it is that you are, actually. 

“Perhaps on any other street.” He confirms for you, now crouching down and showing his face plainly to you. “Do you keep secrets?” 

Your body nods before you can think to do it yourself, and you narrow your eyes for a moment at him. He’s…insane looking. Unnaturally flawless. Like those little speckles of moles on his face were placed with perfected intention. 

You’re mesmerized as he looks at you, eyes glancing to each part of your face, watching your expression change and fall, then rise and– he chuckles fondly, deeply. 

“I believe you.”

Why do you feel proud of that?

“Come back with me, yes?” 

There’s a long pause as you fight to think for yourself. If Jungwon were here with you right now, surely you’d be more grounded than you feel right now. Surely, you’d be having a heated conversation involving some sort of shared fantasy over that bartender. 

What was his name again? 

J…J-

Your eyes adjust to the face in front of you as you lose your train of thought. Something inside of you pulls. You can’t tell if it’s your heart or your thoughts but it appears to be instinctual when you replay his invitation in your head. On any other night, with any other man, you’d say no. 

Under these circumstances alone, you should be running away. 

This man. Dressed as a holy priest, walking to and fro from what you assume to be his home within that unnatural cathedral, presenting himself as god.

You should stand up and disappear into a crowd of rowdy dancers. 

You should find Jungwon and cling to him. 

You should push him away, and you should be recoiling by his cold hand that brushes your cheek. His voice shouldn’t feel so good in your ears. Like a siren, something inside of you doesn’t want you to run. 

“Temptation has you by the throat, my dear.” He smiles as his hand brushes your warm cheek again and again. “You seem rather fond of the feeling.” 

And now he flashes his teeth to you. Glistening brighter than the moon, he appears all but natural to you at this moment when you spiral internally at how fucking beautiful he is. Surely this guy is just a turbo goth that truly lives the life. Probably gives his heart to satan and only fucks during a full moon. 

And oh, wouldn’t you know.

You glance up at the sky again, the moon full and nearly pulsing in the sky like it’s a living being itself. Then your eyes fall back to the priest, his smile still present. 

A weirdo. A freak.

But…aren’t you too?

You barely feel yourself stand up and take a step forward under his arm. You follow the scent of him if nothing else. Heavy in your nose, like a hidden treasure cloaked by the darkened fabric draping over his body.

You want to smell it deeper. Maybe if he were to take off those clothes you could–

“By the throat.” He mumbles quietly as he leads you away from the club. 

Away from familiarity. Away from Jungwon. Away from the public.

There, straight back to that damned cathedral.

You’re more unnerved this time though, because the moment you step through the doors, you cannot, for the life of you, recall what you were supposed to be doing. 

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Waking up with a weight on your side, you smile at the feeling of what you assume to be Jungwon next to you. As you lay here, not quite comprehending what happened in the blur of the night before, you start to take note of something. Color. 

The light behind your closed eyelids don’t match the yellow-white light of the sun shining through your bedroom window. No, you’re seeing colors. 

Blue, red, green– 

“Wonnie?” You call out, squinting your eyes open, not quite processing the room before you feel a pit in your stomach. “Wonnie?”

Holy shit. 

You thought it was a dream.

You thought coming back to this cathedral was nothing more than a drunken dream. That the weight on your side was more than just a misplaced pillow. 

And as you lay here in a room that isn’t yours, and most certainly a different room compared to the one you slept in previously here, you try to think. 

Was it not a dream? 

The way the priest held you close and inhaled you? The way he put you to bed and left you here in the darkness? The way you– oh. 

This feeling in your chest, pulling, pushing, weighing so heavy. Something inside of you wants to see him despite your uncomfortable awakening. No, you need to see him. This feeling, you know now, only becomes more aggressive when he’s near too. Which can only mean he isn’t far outside of this room. 

You think hard about him and what you can remember outside of the blur in your head. He’s attractive. His face is otherworldly, with eyes so dark you hate that you can very nearly see yourself floating in them. 

The image of his face sits clearly in your hungover brain as you try to think. The feeling of his cold skin against your face, his lips, his…

Red.

Panic washes over you when you jump out of bed, ignoring the head rush and the way you immediately topple over and onto the floor. You need to go home, you need to find Jungwon and make sure he made it somewhere safe last night. You need to find your phone, and your…purse? 

Your shoes?

Where the fuck are your things?

You plant your hands against the cold wooden floors, staring straight down as you try to think. Still, nothing comes but blurry images of the club and then solid images of Sunghoon flashing like still photographs behind your eyes.

Are you losing your goddamn mind? 

Finally, you take a deep breath and stand on your feet, rushing for the door and expecting it to open easily, just like last time. But no. It’s locked. You’re fucking locked in. Which is– fuck, you can’t think straight. And while you still recognize that you’re not expected at work today, surely Jungown is worried, right?

He’s probably looking for you. Hell, with the way his nerves get to him, you wouldn’t be surprised to know he’s plastered posters all over the city looking for you. 

He’s definitely looking for you. 

Fortunately though, only a few minutes of pure panic pass when you hear the door unlock and a pale-eyed nun opens the door for you. She instantly sees the fear in your eyes when you take a timid step back. 

“Oh, you poor dear–” She coos out, lifting her brows in pity. “Do you not remember?” 

You hear her sympathy, feeling your body shiver with relief at her safe and calm voice. Looking up at her, she can already see the question in your eyes. The need for an explanation. 

“You did request that I lock the door for you. You were just simply petrified when–”

You gasp at her choice of words, not remembering a single bit of fear from the night before. 

“Petrified?” You whisper carefully, wrapping your arms around yourself and nervously looking around the room. 

The shrouded woman purses her lips, glancing away from you. 

“I do believe Master Sunghoon startled you. He meant no harm, my dear.” She tries to calm your nerves, but the information only stiffens your shoulders more. 

“Master?” You question with hesitation. “Do you mean Father? Reverend?” 

“Oh.” She purses her lips tighter now, a small smile breaking out at the corners of her lips. “It’s worse than I thought. Please, come with me.” 

You shake your head, backing yourself up against the wall. 

“It’ll only be a minute,” She waves her hand for you to come. “You’re not in danger, I assure you.” 

And as you stand here, knowing that you likely have no choice but to follow her, you hope that her words indicating no danger are truthful. You kind of need them to be, after all. 

“Come now, dear.” 

Reluctantly, you follow her. 

All the way up a too-dark spiral staircase, down two long and dark hallways with vaulted ceilings, and upon rounding a corner, you smell it and you fucking feel a tug in your chest. One that drives you to walk a bit faster, nearly in front of the nun as your feet carry you to where you feel you’re supposed to be. 

She chuckles when you reach the large double doors before she does, dipping her head at you before seemingly gliding back down the hallway in silence. 

Before you can even knock on the doors, they open with a rush of air hitting you square in your face. It nearly knocks the breath out of you at first, but you inhale deeply the same scent of cinnamon before your breath is actually caught in your throat. 

There stands the priest. Or god…or whatever he is. 

“Terrified.” He clicks a knowing tongue at you, stepping to the side to invite you into the extravagant room. “Just when I thought I had you too.” 

You stand in silence in front of him after stepping inside, that tug in your chest trying to pull you directly against the man. Still, you refrain with furrowed brows as you remain silent.

“And yet, here you stand.” He softens his frustrated voice, leaning comfortably against a wooden desk behind him. “The human brain truly is fascinating.” 

“Human brain.” You repeat his words to him in an attempt to process them.

“Yes, of course. Yours in particular.” The priest, in his night clothes of a loosened white shirt and long pants makes his way to a bookcase. You watch his slender fingers pull a ratty old book out before he flip through the pages. “I’ve heard about people like you.” 

You pause as you watch him push a pair of gold-trimmed glasses up the bridge of his nose, a memory flooding to the forefront of your mind as you recall last night to your best ability. 

Again, red. 

“I used to be like you.” He just talks, offering no context but keeping his sharp gaze on you despite having the book open in his hands. 

You find yourself nodding as you listen, feeling your hand raise to your heart as you try to ignore the way the priest, Sunghoon, takes a deep inhale. 

There’s nothing that follows his inhale. He doesn’t release that breath as he stares at you and instead just…smirks.

“Last night, you believed me to be god.” He smiles wider now. “You stood in that very spot and undressed  yourself.” He takes a step closer to you now, tilting his head with his words. “Do you know what you did next?” 

A shaky breath leaves your lips and a shiver runs through you again and again as you shake your head at him. Forgetting just for a moment how to speak. 

“You got on your knees and you prayed.”

You drink the thick air in the room like a glass of wine, swallowing harshly, struggling to maintain any type of steady heart beat. You feel allured, aroused, mesmerized, embarrassed. 

“What–” Inhale. “Did I pray for?” 

Exhale. 

“Me.” 

Inhale.

Within a split second all the memories come crashing through your skull. Rattling images of that very instance where you were on your knees, right here, fucking praying. Your hand instinctively shoots up to your neck, and there, you feel the drainage points. Two small pricks, just like in all of those movies you watched growing up. Sore, swollen, hot to the touch. 

Well, goddamn. 

There goes your balance. Your eyes start to blur and you feel yourself fall. Only, you don’t. You can’t when you hear him drop the book to the floor and feel his cold body shoot up and against you to hold you up. 

He says nothing at first as he looks down at you, and you couldn’t say anything if you wanted to. You look up at him in a daze, trying to focus, trying to think, but all you can process is the way he inhales again, deeply.

“You ran.” He whispers to you, studying your face and the way your body went from limp to almost holding up on its own in a shorter time than he expected. So strong, you are. Such a fighter.

He inhales again, seemingly drowning in the smell of you before rolling his eyes up and closing them just for a moment. Then, he groans before looking back down at you with eyes almost as dazed as yours.

“You didn’t run away, though.” He adds.

Even as he releases his hold on you, he smiles and inches his face closer and closer to yours. Almost as if he’s making an attempt to stare straight through you. 

“I wouldn’t have stopped you, love.” 

Your body feels weak as you soak in the truth of last night, your lips instinctively wanting to kiss him. No longer do you feel the need to run away, or to find Jungwon. You’re no longer afraid, even. 

Words can’t explain how you feel right now.

“Why didn’t you leave?” 

You have no answers for him when you hum out as a response. In fact, you’re not sure if you’ve ever had the ability to answer questions in the first place. 

All you feel is euphoria as he continues to talk to you, sweetly smiling and lowering his voice to something that drips like thick syrup down the walls of your brain. 

“I can trust you’ll be back then?” He hovers his lips over yours, watching you pucker them for him before backing away with another deep inhale of your scent. “Or would you rather I come pick you up from the vomit-covered sidewalk again?”

You find yourself laughing at that, smiling as you blink at him. 

God, he’s so charming. 

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Sunghoon had shoo’d you away shortly after, and you managed to make it home in a daze of sunlight and uncanny admiration.

You’re not sure if you can ever feel normal again after that. In fact, you’re quite dissociated and disconnected to the world until you find Jungwon slumped at the entrance of your apartment, sound asleep. 

Like a guiding light, his presence grounds you so fast that you feel more dizzy than you did in Sunghoon’s arms. Like your spirit is slammed back into your body and reality is hitting you again. You crouch down in a rush with light taps to Jungwon’s face, those bright eyes widening the moment he realizes that you’re here. 

“Where were you?”  He whispered drowsily, his dry throat forcing his voice to crack as he shifts his body comfortably against your door. 

Immediately, your face is apologetic and your voice is soothing in repeated apologies. 

“I’m sorry, Wonnie–” You hiccup, nearly wanting to cry. “I ended up going home with someone, I didn’t mean to leave you there alone.” You continue, pushing your hands under his arms and hoisting him up to stand. “I’m sorry.” You continue, and continue. “I should have left my keys with you, or–”

“Hey,” He whispers sweetly, finally standing on his own and stretching his arms out with an even drier sound. “It’s okay, you’re the one who missed out.” 

You tilt your head in question as you reach for your shoulder bag, the one Sunghoon had tucked within his desk drawer, and pull out your keys. 

“Oh?” You smile at his lack of care, but part of you kind of shatters at it. 

What if you really needed help? How long would it have taken Jungwon to see the red flags? Then again, how long is it going to take for you to see the red flags?

“Oh yeah.” He nods to you, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes as you push open your door and push him inside. “Jay brought me here, he stayed for a little while, even offered to bring me back to his place.”

You’re a little jealous. You did miss out, it seems. Still, you feel…fond of what you went through last night. Despite the feeling of rot within you when you think about it. Knowing it’s weird. Strange. Unnatural.

A vampire? Really? Surely not. 

“Why didn’t you go home with him?” You ask, making your way to your room right behind Jungwon, paying no mind to him as you undress and throw on a t-shirt. “Why’d you sleep at my door?” 

Jungwon shrugs, now taking his own outfit off while rummaging through your closet for a shirt you probably got from an ex boyfriend. 

“Well,” He looks at you now, really looks at you. “I’m fine if you wanna go home with people but I was a little worried, wanted to make sure you’d actually make it home.”

You pause as you dress yourself for a second sleep, feeling something in your chest flutter out of you at his worry. So he did see the color red. 

Not as brightly as you did, but he still saw it. 

“I really am sorry.” You furrow your brows as you watch him put that over-sized shirt on and lay on your bed. “I promise, I won’t do that again.” 

“You’d better not.” He chuckles, blinking at you and waiting for you to come lay with him. 

“Let me go get us some water first, I think we have a lot to sleep off.” 

He nods happily to you, only one dimple peeking out at you when you turn to head for the kitchen.

And after that, it’s nice. Not much sleep happened though, mostly just a lot of water chugging and pillow talk before Jungwon shifts with a gasp.

“What the fuck is that?” He bolts up, hovering over you and practically pinning you to the bed as he forces your face to the side. 

You know exactly what he’s looking at and explaining it isn’t the hardest thing in the world. After all, you were very drunk last night. So drunk that you’re sure you woke up today still drunk. 

A vampire? Hah. There’s no way. You were right to think Sunghoon is just like, really goth. Embarrassingly so. Probably thinks he’s a vampire lord or something. 

That pull in your chest? The inhales with no exhales? 

It’s all an act and, well, you’re kinda into it if you’re being honest, being hunted and all. The dude is hot as hell, and you don’t mind exploring a little bit of his world. 

“Well…” You trail off, lending your looming friend with the smeared eyes an embarrassed smile. 

“Those look deep.” His voice drips in concern as he keeps your face turned. “Did it hurt?”

You feel his fingers touching the two puncture wounds. Gentle, warm fingers. They pulse at the touch and sting when he pulls them away to let you turn your face back to him.

“To be honest, I don’t remember feeling it.” You think he’d probably panic if you told the truth right now. About how you were clearly too drunk when it happened. About how you prayed to a man only for him to pierce your neck and drink you up like you did to the drinks just hours prior. You aren’t even sure if you had sex with the guy.

To you though, sober or not, you probably would have still left with Sunghoon last night. With that flawless skin and those dark eyes. Sober or not, if he’s into biting and blood, you’re into it too. More than willing to play his victim. 

The fact that you were probably far too drunk at the time doesn’t bother you much because even now, with a grasp on reality, you’d like to think you’d let him do it again. If anything, just to feed your own curiosity.

“Wow, you really are into some freaky stuff–” Jungwon comments playfully, rolling back off of you and then taking a breath. “Make sure you clean them. Who knows where the mouth that did it has been.”

All smiles when you’re with Jungwon, honestly. So much comfort and concern, so much laughing and safety. If it weren’t for him, you honestly wouldn’t know how you’d be feeling right now. And it’s nice knowing that he opts to sleep over with you again. Seemingly preferring your apartment over the home he dropped a hefty wad of cash on for a two month stay. 

The feeling of having a best friend swells inside of you with each passing day, and his presence here allows you to go to work and sleep through the night without much more thought to Sunghoon. You love this city and you love the little artist that found himself at your doorstep even more. 

Hopefully he meant it when he said he’d come visit you all the time once his time here is over. Unlike you, who changed your mind the moment you saw Jungwon asleep at your door. 

“I can trust you’ll be back then? Or would you rather I come pick you up from the vomit-covered sidewalk again?” Sunghoon had said to you. You remember it despite the state of your mind at the time, and you also remember nodding to him. 

He seemed satisfied with your confirmation, yet since then you’ve felt no push or pull. No need to have him sucking on your neck or making you feel like he’s a demon wearing the skin of an angel. 

Perhaps you’ll just need to be sure you don’t find yourself drunk and alone on the sidewalk again.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

By mid-week, Jungwon looks sad to know he needs to go back to his respective space for a little while. Not because he wants to, and not even because you want him to. 

It’s simply because you need to be alone. You’ve always needed to be in your own space when this happens anyway. 

Month after month after month. For years and years. 

It never gets comfortable and you’ll never understand why you’re fated to hurt so badly every twenty two days. 

Going to work is already difficult enough, bloated in your quirky outfits and smiling through the twisting knots in your gut. Having Jungwon in your space when you very nearly want to strangle every person who asks you how your day has been would only lead to more owed apologies. 

“It’s not forever, Wonnie.” You genuinely smile through the pain at his narrowed eyes. “Don’t be so dramatic.” 

“Oh, I’m being dramatic?” He throws his arms up and motions at you. “You just told me you need a few days to bleed out on your kitchen floor.” 

“Well, yeah...” You laugh and he frowns. 

“I have a sister, you know.” He rolls his eyes. “Who’s gonna buy you snacks and bring you microwaved water bottles?”

“Jungwon.” You land your hands on his shoulders and force him to look at you. “I really just don’t like when people are around me when I'm on my period.” 

He blows a strand of his hair up before pursing his lips, accepting the fact that maybe he’s a bit too clingy. Then again, you’re the only person in this city he knows and arguably the only person in this world he’s managed to grow so close with.

Given the fact that the two of you only met like, what? Two weeks ago? He should probably tone it down and not make an attempt to change your lifestyle just so he can sleep next to someone. 

“Fine.” He huffs, frowning harder. “But if you need snacks or–”

“I’ll call you.” You shake his shoulders before forcing him into a bear hug. “Thanks though.” 

And with that, you go your separate ways at the end of the work day and try to ignore how the pain medicine did close to nothing all day to help with the twisting in your abdomen. 

Still, you’re relieved to know you can tough out the next few days in silence due to Jungwon backing you up on your false-sickness nonsense nearing the end of your shift. 

“I feel like I’m coming down with a fever.” You whined to your boss, happy that the first day cold-sweats from your period makes it appear as just that. A fever. 

“She’s been a bit out of it all day. If you need me to help out on the down-low while she’s recovering, I don’t mind.” Jungwon had added, smiling at your boss and not at all bothered by the unpaid work he’ll probably have to do for your sake. 

A great friend he is. You’re lucky to have met him. 

An amazing friend, really. For helping you find space for yourself in crowded clubs and within your own bed. For lending a hand at work and showing up every day for your shifts despite simply being an artist that’s presenting his work there. No where is he needed within that museum outside of, well, you. 

And he’s always there. So for him to not be here now, when you’re making your way to your apartment door? It feels...wrong. Mostly because, as alone as you are when you walk inside and as silent as it is, you don’t entirely feel as alone like you once did here. 

Still, you go about your nightly routine and fall into bed with those same cramps in your gut. It’s not long before you’re drifting off, pleased to know that at least when you’re sleeping, there’s no pain in your body. 

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

A strong scent wakes you, forcing your eyes open in the darkness of your room. 

Familiar. Warm. Spicy.

Cinnamon.

A tug, just a little pull inside of you brings you to your feet as you wander through your apartment. Straight to the front door. Straight out of the front door. 

“You know where I live?” You whisper drowsily, rubbing your eyes and walking straight into his grasp, ignoring the feeling of sticky blood leaking out of you just from getting out of bed alone.

“No.” Sunghoon speaks against your hair, rubbing your arms as he holds you against him. 

“Oh.” You accept his answer with a nonchalant feeling inside of you. Who even cares how he ended up here? 

“Come back with me?” He whispers, already taking a step back and smiling wickedly when you instantly follow, forcing your nose further against his chest and up to his neck. “I hear it dripping, love, come.”

And you do. All the way downstairs and into a car with heavily tinted windows. 

You feel comfortable, safe. 

The cramps in your belly are nowhere near as you slowly but surely come to your senses. Half-awake but feeling buzzed next to him. Still, you smile while keeping your nose planted up and against his neck even as he drives. 

You like the sound of his little laughs each time he tries to push you back to your seat, and you like even more the way he mutters to himself through it when he relents and lets you do as you please. The short drive in the dead of night doesn’t offer much in terms of danger anyway. 

And slowly still, your mind clears. Breaking out of the buzzed fog when he brings you through the cathedral

 silently. Past the pale-eyed nuns with pursed smiling lips, past the windows and hallways. 

No longer are you buzzed by the time you make it through those heavy doors of the extravagant room. The same one you prayed in. The same one you nearly fainted in. The same one you tried to forget. 

“How do you feel?” He asks just moments after the doors close. 

You can sense the slightest bit of hesitation in his voice when he asks you that, only now realizing that you’re in your pajamas and fucking staining them.

“What do you mean?” You ask, squeezing your legs together in an uncomfortable show of what’s happening between them. 

“Are you awake?” He asks now, still slightly hesitant in front of you. You can almost see him hold himself back. 

From something.

“As far as I know.” You tilt your head, glancing around the room. “Um, can I go to the bathro–”

“Can you read that clock?” He interrupts you and points to the candle-lit wall. 

“Three thirty–” You pause, squinting to make sense of the exact minute. “three.” 

He smiles at the fact that you’re entirely awake with him this time, despite the drowsy lure he had you in when he appeared at your door. 

You’re here of your own free will, and you’re not running. 

“Do you want to go home?” 

You’re confused by the questions. As confused and drunk as you felt upon stumbling out your apartment door, you very much came here willingly. If anything, you’re just a little weirded out by the fact that you were paying such close attention to him that you missed the way blood seeped through your clothes. 

“No?” You offer back to him before taking a deep breath. “Can you show me where the bathroom is though?” 

And before you can even comprehend it, Sunghoon is right up against you. Looming and staring down as his hands rest on your shoulders before sliding down to your waist. 

“Now, now.” He chuckles, lowering his face just an inch, resting his lips on your forehead. “Why would I want to do that?” 

“Because I’m gross right now?” You laugh awkwardly, trying to take a step back but realizing that his grip on you tightens. 

“Oh, have you forgotten?” He laughs out, lowering himself more, dragging his lips all the way down your face, neck, chest. 

“Ah, wait–” You panic when you feel his nose against your stomach, threatening to go lower. “I’m like…” You’re embarrassed to say it now. 

After all, you came here with the clear indication of fucking. Period or not, you’re not afraid of a little bit of blood but…this.

“Sunghoon, I’m on my period.” You finally speak into the room, trying to push his face from your stomach. 

“I know.” He smiles, pressing his nose harder against your stomach. “Drove me crazy all day.” He dips his face down instantly, inhaling deeply between your legs.

Something inside of you is insanely turned on by his blatant interest in you. 

“All day?” You ask, hands reaching for his hair as he drags his nose straight through the mess you’ve made. 

“Could smell it, darling.” He laughs, pulling back and looking up at you. “Smells so sweet, not gross. Delicious.”

Why the fuck is the blood smeared against the tip of his nose so alluring? Jungwon was right, you really are into some freaky shit. Then again, it’s not so weird considering you’ve never done this before. Everyone’s gotta start somewhere when it comes to kinks, right? 

“Can smell something else too.” He looks back between your legs, ignoring that you are trying to act like you don’t want to let him. “You’re aroused.” 

Oh. 

And just as you’re preparing for some sort of pressure between your thighs, you feel a waft of cold air rush up your body when he stands and grabs your face with both hands. 

“You never came back.” He hisses against your lips, dragging you back and further into the room with him. “I had to sniff you out like a fucking dog.” 

Your mouth falls open at the spiteful shift in his voice, following his movements all the way into the room until he’s spinning around and pushing you from his hold. You fall back against something insanely soft, and instantly you moan at the feeling of silk against you. 

Barely able to catch your breath, he’s over you. He’s on you. Tucking his face into the crook of your neck with a low rumbled growl in his throat and inhaling over and over again. 

Inhale. Inhale. Inhale. 

And you can feel him nose his way all the way up to your face, opening his eyes and staring straight through you with slack lips just over yours. 

You’re mesmerized by him at this moment. Never has a man acted this way with you and it’s insane to think you’d ever be satisfied with someone who wouldn’t. You almost strain your neck to kiss him, and you truly would have if it weren’t for the fact that you feel him sink his hand into your shorts.

Not even a second to truly comprehend how ice-cold his fingers feel when he slips them down and slides two of them into you. He watches your face when he does it, his own slack lips turning to a smile when you moan out at the smallest of pleasure he wants to offer you. 

“Oh, look at you,” He coos, feeling your arms shoot around his shoulders when he continues to slide the digits in and out of you. “So sticky, what a pretty little mess.” 

You groan in embarrassment at the act, knowing full well that you’ll have to face the fact that you like it at some point after he’s finished with you. You don’t mind admitting it so much now though. The way his fingers slide through the thick mess, forcing the scent of brass to mix with his own cinnamon aroma? To die for, truly. 

“I could just eat you up–” He chokes in a whisper this time, struggling to maintain his composure from the sickening sweet smell of your blood. “Would you like that?”

You lift up instantly, kissing against his slackened smile. It’s one sided, as he simply lets you do it and nothing more. Mostly because he, himself, is spiraling into a frenzy of what he needs more than what you want. It’s all pleasure the same though, as he feels your tongue trace against one of his sharpened teeth.

Just a small bite. Just a taste.

“Ah–” You pull back in a wince, the flavor of blood hitting the back of your taste buds as you look up at him with confusion.

He doesn’t allow much looking though, as you hear that same rumble from his throat right up against your lips. You feel his tongue lick you up, slurping the blood straight from your new wound and moaning through the flavor of it. 

His eyes flutter closed as he tries to hold down his thirst, knowing that his fingers are fucking dripping with this same sweet, red slick. It wouldn’t take much now for him to break and let it all drip down his throat. He could end this now if he’s not careful.

And when he opens his eyes again as he pulls back from your sweet tongue, he notes the look of confusion still on your face. His eyes roll in fond annoyance at you for that, only because you have this stubborn need to question despite having the clear answer bleeding from your mouth. 

“You’re still trying to pretend you don’t realize?” He asks, whispering real close to your lips, darting his tongue out and offering a small kitten lick as he buries his fingers deep. 

Your lips open for him in a moan and he licks into it again. Your still bleeding tongue only drives him further and further from a stable mindset. No one, not in hundreds of years, has tasted this fucking sweet. He almost can’t savor it with the way his body rises from slumber at the mere fucking scent of you from ten blocks away. 

His cock pulses for the first time in decades for you. God, he feels more alive than he did when he was actually cycling blood through his veins. 

“You just sliced open that pretty tongue on my teeth.” He chuckles, basking in the warmth he can only feel with you beneath him. “My fangs, love.” His fingers continue their slide all the while, the sounds of squelching blood filling his ears more than your soft groans for more. “Still, you seem to deny what this is and what I am.” 

You can hear his words, but comprehending them isn't quite as easy. Like, yes, he’s got a vampire kink. Whatever. 

“I get it, you’re kinky.” You huff out, missing the way he stifles a laugh at your denial of the truth. 

“You’re a stubborn one–” He smiles, flashing the same fang that sliced through your tongue. “It’s a bit frustrating. Perhaps even endearing.” 

And then, suddenly, his fingers come to a halt and he waits for you to look at him. Just as you go to speak, he’s sliding his fingers out of your mess so quickly, shushing you with his red stained digits. 

“Now, listen.” 

It’s silent. More silent than you ever thought the world could be. 

“Do you hear it?” 

You shake your head, feeling his fingers leave a trail of your blood against your lips as he drags them away and up to his own mouth. 

There, he hangs his fingers from his mouth, licking gently and tasting thoughtfully before sliding them further in. He sucks them clean in an erotic show of his blood-lust before letting them fall from his still licking tongue. Then, he’s slotting them right back between your legs, wanting more to taste. 

“No? You don’t hear how loud it is?” He asks now in a lower tone, still thirsty, still in need, dipping down to lick the blood from your face. “All that blood in you, bundled up right–” His fingers press hard against your clit. “Here.”

Your body jolts in pleasure, eyes rolling back at the mere sensitivity he forces your body into. God, kinky is right. He knows how to use words. His voice is so elegant while spewing the filth, so proper.

“Ahh, that feels good, doesn’t it?” He questions you in a moan that mimicked your own, now lowering himself from your face and kissing down your clothed chest. Down, down, down. “Do you think you’ll believe me when you feel the blood drain out of you?” His voice echoes in your ears, reminding you of the vampire-like thirst he’s trying to act upon. 

And when he slips your shorts down your legs, you don’t even protest. Which at this point isn’t weird at all. The dude is insanely into it and you can’t help but feel like you can vibe with it if he keeps acting like this. He’s good at roleplaying. 

Instead of an embarrassed protest, you respond to him by spreading your legs and presenting the red mess he’s smeared all over you. Inviting him.

He glances up at you as he watches, saying nothing, thinking nothing except for the fact that– you are perfect. 

In every way, spread out and dripping blood, perfect.

You feel an intense jolt of pain shoot through your body just seconds later, followed by a loud and almost animalistic moan from the man between your legs. You lift slightly as you try to look down at him, witnessing the way he sucks the flesh of your thigh into his mouth, blood weeping from the new wounds his teeth create.

So much blood. He’s the one drunk now, utterly fucking mesmerized by the amount of it you pour for him. Your fleshy thighs offer the freshest, he couldn’t help but take a sip before giving you what your quivering body is truly begging for. He has to quench the genuine thirst before playing with his food, at least. 

And as you watch him it’s like you’re nothing but a piece of meat at this moment. He’s sucking and sucking against your thigh until you’re sure your toes are numb. They’re tingling, and you can physically feel the blood being pulled from you. As if his teeth are two syringes seeping it out of you. 

Af if they are. Not because they actually are, right?

And by the time your toes are effectively filled with static, he finally releases the fleshy bite on your thigh. You stare down, listening to him smack his lips and lick the corners of his mouth, seeing the way he doesn’t make eye contact with you at all before he’s turning his attention and burying his tongue into your crimson coated cunt. Without warning, but with so much eagerness with his tasting lips. 

Your eyes flutter with a loud and strained gasp, eliciting a groan of his own to bubble into the blood that falls against his tongue with each passing pulse of you. He licks in time with your heartbeat, which is fucking insane that you can tell he does it. Never before now have you heard your heart beat so loudly, so frantically in your ears. 

And you would be embarrassed, perhaps even worried that the taste is awful. Maybe it’s too much for him, maybe this kink is all just for show and this is a limit he’s only willing to try once before realizing himself that he doesn’t necessarily like drinking the blood from a woman’s pussy…except– Sunghoon gives you no reason to feel like any of that is true. 

No, no. Oh no. He’s fucking relishing in it and you can tell by the way he moans and skews his head to dig his tongue deeper. You can tell by the way he smothers himself, not coming up for air for even a second of the time he’s spending down there. 

And god, you can feel the mess of it all. Sticky, smearing all over your thighs when his fingers trace you mindlessly before gripping your thighs just to pull you down the bed, closer against his face, sliding his tongue ever deeper.

Moaning, fucking slurping it out of you without so much as a breath. 

He’s not breathing.

And now? You panic, focusing more on the time he’s spending burying his mouth and nose into you than the feeling of it. Your hand shoots down into his hair, pulling his head back and away from you. 

Then your breath is caught in your throat at the sharp image. His eyes blown out, widened at you. Nose, cheeks, chin, tongue all glistening with sticky crimson slick, and a smile.

He smiles at you. 

At least before his tongue is clicking and he’s poking it into the side of his cheek before reaching back, grabbing your hand, and shoving it out of his hair before sinking his face right back between your legs. As if to show you that he was annoyed by that. 

You don’t get to think about it though, because this time he’s licking you more frantically than he already was. Fast tongue flicking and fucking you, his teeth dragging against your pussy lips, refusing to let you believe that he wants to breathe fresh air right now. 

Your hands find purchase in his hair yet again though, and you feel him grip your legs and stiffen his shoulders to keep his head in place just in case you try to pull him from you again. You hear the deep growl. You feel it rumble against you as if to warn you to keep your hands to yourself if you’re not going to let him do exactly what he said he would fucking do. 

So, you don’t pull him away. Instead, you play in his hair with your weak hands. Twisting and twirling strands of it between your fingers until he’s pulling his tongue back on his own. 

A shock to you, truly, that he does it at all. But you guess it makes sense when you feel another sharp pain in your thigh, right below the preview bite he had given you. 

Just when you were gaining feeling back in your toes too. 

And he goes back and forth like that for a while, until his face is utterly soaked in diluted blood and pussy-slick. Until he needs to look at it pulse, and watch how beautiful you still, fucking still, have more to pour out for him. 

He’s amazed, really. Never has he served himself a woman that’s openly bleeding for him like this. After all, he prefers to drink his dinner from the carotid artery and be done with it. He was far more creative back in the day though, you know, when his cock still worked. 

Most of his sexual pleasure came from drinking alone. Never getting hard but always reaching climax in one way or another when he gets that last, delicious drop of blood from his victims. But now? Oh, now. You’ve stirred his arousal back to life. Not from pure hunger, but lust.

It’s been so long that he’s lusted. So, so fucking long since he’s cared enough to fuck his prey or give in to the temptation of menstrual blood. In fact, he can’t even recall ever allowing his victims to fall away from the drowsy lure he puts them in. Many of them didn’t know what was happening to them before death and he preferred it that way. 

Until you. An average looking commoner with insane fucking blood. Devilish blood. Divine, demonic, angelic, fucking celestial tasting blood. 

After all this time, he’s had beautiful face after beautiful face. He’s had men, women, celebrities, false-prophets, and even purely divine bodies.. But you…oh no, he can’t simply kill you like those utter throw-aways.

There was a reason he didn’t end you the first night. Something in him caught fire on the taste of your drunken blood. The alcohol you had ran through his veins along with a taste he’s never once fathomed existing. It was the first time in hundreds of years where he forced himself to let you walk out of his quarters. 

Blood with no comparison. So thick, so sweet, so…damning. How could he have just killed you there? How could he pretend like it’s not addicting? Like he didn’t want you to continue producing more and more of it, all for him to drink up?

Of course he wants all of it. He wants to drain you to your last fucking drop, but then he’d never taste it again. Not in thousands of years, at least. So now, as his cock pulses awake and your heavy flow only produces more and more for his hungry mouth to lick up– fuck.

It’s been so long since he’s felt something for a victim like this, and even longer since he’s wanted to use his cock. No, needing to use it. It feels almost foreign to him now after so many centuries, to fuck and eat at the same time. To indulge in all the pleasure, and not just the one that keeps him alive. To want you to feel the pleasure too, to need you to want him without the false sleep forcing it.

You. 

You’re the one. You’re the one he’s going to keep. For as long as you’ll let him, and when you stop letting him, he’ll have no choice but to lure you again. Forever. All for him. 

“Love,” He rasps out, staring at the way your pussy shines so prettily in front of him, the pulse drawing him to near starvation despite being drenched in his meal. “Never have I wanted to fuck before I–” 

Kill, is the word he almost used. It’s instinctual, but instead he releases a moan from his throat at the mere thought ignoring that instinct. Drinking, sipping. Forever just a fucking appetizer and never the full meal. He can settle. He will settle.

Never. Truly never has he wanted to stop himself from drinking just to fuck and he needs you to know that. The feeling is too erotic for even him to comprehend right now, meshing with his hunger and making him feel –-

Gods be damned, he could kill you. 

He should kill you. Given the fact that he has never let a meal leave this room without being drained entirely. Never while they’re awake and fully aware anyway. Insanity. You’ve made him go insane, losing his wits enough to treat you as something more than a victim.

Despite hunting you as one. Despite never having to hunt anyone like he has you. Wanting you to be here willingly. Wanting you to love the feeling of his thirst. Wanting you to learn how good the drain feels. Wanting you to know what he is and needing you to love it. 

Needing you to stay alive. 

Insane. 

He’s fucking losing it.

He knows that if he can never smell this scent again, if he can never taste it, or have your fingers in his hair, if he can never want to fuck again? Oh, he’d crumble. 

He’d take a walk at noon.

You’re not dying tonight. In fact, never shall you feel the cold slab of a morgue freezer if he has anything to do with it. No blood wasted when it comes time for you, and no life truly lost either. 

If just for the sex. If just to quench a never ending thirst. 

If just to live in insanity.

“Before you–” You release in a breath that he chases. As if craving the life under him like an animal. “Before you, what?”

“Kill.” He whispers as he swallows each breath of yours, tasting the sweet sleep that you once held in your body. His own eyes feeling drowsy as if you have your own lure on him now. 

Even the panicked gasp you release at his choice of word there, he swallows it, kissing you hard in a drowsy groan and smearing the blood all through the kiss, letting your breath rumble out of his mouth as if the moan were from his own lungs. 

“So vacuous.” He chuckles now, feeling the pleasure of his cock jolt through his body. He presses himself between your legs, relishing in the sticky blood seeping straight through his sleep pants. “Do you feel that?” He continues, rutting against you as if he’s a virgin of all that he’s experiencing right now, licking each smear of blood from your cheeks and chin. 

“Ah, Sunghoon,” You groan, but you try to be serious in your tone. Feeling the orgasm that once was bubbling up settle back in your stomach. “You’re making a mess.” 

“Mm, I am.” He mutters mindlessly, pressing harder against you now as the taste settles in his throat. “Love, tell me. You feel it?” 

Of course you fucking feel it. 

The nod you lend pleases him, knowing that it’s not just his imagination. Finally, he can feel the warmth of a living being wrapped around him. Finally, he doesn’t feel so cold. 

“You can’t fathom what it is that you do to me,” He continues his sweet talk, running his lips down to your neck, leaving trails of that blood all the way before immediately piercing his teeth into the same wounds he left on you already. He feels your pulse against his teeth when he sucks and only groans weaker against you as he ruts. 

“Ah–” You wince in pain again, feeling the wound reopen with a cold and sharp prick. The pain ignites something inside of you to press your hips up, sliding yourself against his red-drenched pants. 

He chuckles into his bite at your willingness, his hands reaching straight down to shove his pants down in one movement. Euphoria runs through him at the feeling of your warm blood against him when he presses back against you.

Really, the feeling alone paired with the taste of your fresh blood yet again only drives him to keep going. After all, he has all the time in the world. His intention to keep you here only lends him the ability to press his length straight into that bloody, sopping wet hole of yours. The one pulsing for him, the one that lends his favorite smell, taste, and feeling in the world. 

His teeth are forced to retract when he throws his head back at the sensation of sinking deep into your cunt, one fluid motion reminding him of how much he loved this feeling before. How often he’d fuck, and fuck, and fuck until suddenly, he just– couldnt. 

You’ve ignited so much life within him, even while doing nothing more than lying here bleeding. No longer does he feel bored with the world considering he’s managed to find you in it. He could possibly even love you if you let him.

Especially with the way you react nearly the same as he does. As if you haven’t fucked before. As if you’ve never mixed scents with another being before ever coming to this city to chase your own demise. The little sounds you make could be so much more than what you think they are. 

They’re so similar to the ones you make when he bites, when he sucks, oh, so so similar. So deeply seeped in pleasure, pain, hesitation.

“Darling, are you afraid?” Sunghoon manages to say as he feels himself warm from inside of your tense body. “Do you believe me now? Do you understand now?”

You frantically shake your head at the tear of his cock spreading your walls open around it. That one slide rendering you near faint considering the amount of blood he’s taken from you already. The feeling of…ice. It’s in you, running from your veins all throughout your body. So, so, fucking cold. 

No, no, no. No living being on this earth could feel this hard inside of you while being this…oh. His hands have been cold on you too. Always. His scalp under your fingernails as you scratched. His lips, his tongue, all of it was freezing until your blood was coating him. Everything about him is ice.

Still, you shake your head through the pleasure, cock warming him both literally and unintentionally. He just sits inside of you, feeling the beat of your heart gush that same blood past his length and out of you. Your eyes slightly open to look at him, afraid of what you’ll see. 

He’s smiling. His eyes are…brighter.

“C–cold.” You manage to stutter out, nearly feeling brain freeze from the way he pulls his hips back and plunges into you again, warm blood splashing out and against his pelvis, coating your thighs more. And oh, that bite on your thigh, it’s dripping again. 

“So cold, yes?” He chuckles when he dips down, moving his hips steadily in and out of your sticky mess. No longer thirsty, just…aroused. “Do you understand?” 

You frantically shake your head again, grabbing onto him from over his shirt. You’re panicking inside, your fingers gripping so tight, trying to find heat. Needing heat. 

How did you not think about this more? It took this to recognize that he never warms? And he’s smiling at your panic? 

God, but it feels so, so fucking good. 

“Love,” He coos at your panic, pistoning his hips easily with the slide, bringing both of his hands to your face and forcing you to look at him. “I’m dead.”

Ah. 

So he is. 

Yet, the feeling of him inside of you feels better than you’ve ever had. The way his hands hold your face, the way his eyes blow out for you, the way his entire face is tinted in red. He’s so alive yet…

Entirely dead. 

“You’re afraid?” He asks through his own forgotten pleasure, wanting you to stay but entirely willing to put you to sleep so this doesn’t have to end. 

“Sunghoon,” You interrupt any words he’s about to give you, opting to continue fighting the truth when you note the softer tone of voice he uses despite the quickening pace of his hips. “Harder.”

Oh, the fire within burns colder than it ever has at those words. He doesn't even need to pull you? You don’t want to pretend this isn’t happening? You’re accepting him? 

If you want him to go harder, he’ll make you feel like no other. Harder he goes, using all of his pent up frustration of not being able to drain you fucking dead, all of his strength, all of everything he’s missed out for the past centuries– all of it. It’s behind his thrusts now as he slams into you. The blood that splatters out only makes the moment all the more grand to him. 

Breaths leave you with each slam, the sticky sound from below being drowned out by the sheer sound your heart rate in your ear. You’re still panicking, but you can’t help but want more. After all, surely what’s left for you after he’s done is….no, it’s not real.

He feels the fear pulse around his cock and moans out at it, the squeeze so tight, the gush so delicious. This entire room smells of you, and he wants it to be fucking drenched in you. The fear inside of you right now only intensifies the pleasure, and he knows he should be calming you through it, he knows he should tell you that you’re making out of this alive, but–

The way the heart beats so frantically when one is terrified. You’re dripping with fear, the smell of your blood intensifies with each petrifying pulse squeezing his cock to the point he feels his own heart make an attempt to pulse. Your life runs through him entirely out of fear that you’ll lose it. 

He can’t tell you, not when your body reacts so flawlessly. Exactly how it’s supposed to react. So delicious is that fear, he wonders if it makes your blood taste any hotter. He dips down, sinking his teeth into your neck once again and confirms his suspicions. It does taste hotter, sweeter, and it pumps itself so beautifully against his eager fangs. Almost as if you truly bleed for him, because he’s not even needing to suck for it at this point. 

It just drips, and pours, and bubbles out all for him to swallow up. 

You push through it though, the pain is so good, and if this is what it’s like to die, perhaps you’ve found yourself in a lucky position. At least you’re not being ripped to pieces by a stranger, or crushed beneath your own car on a highway. At least this way, you’re being held and seemingly adored.

And the fear, excitement, and pure adrenaline in your body forces it out of you. A rush of heat slamming Sunghoon right in his gut when you convulse under him. Legs shaking as you moan out both in disbelief and intense ecstasy. The blood tastes even sweeter now for him, so sweet that he has to pull back in a guttural and demonic growl.

It’s been so, so long since he’s felt a woman cum around him. His own body reacts in an instant, releasing his own thick secretion into you as you shake through it. Sweating, panting, drooling, crying, bleeding. All for him. 

And the explosion behind his eyes is a reminder to keep you alive. He forces himself to keep the inhale from happening as he plunges into you one last time, coating the inside of your bloody walls with a flurry of freezing ropes. Amazed at the feeling he has long forgotten, his body shakes through it and renders him near psychotic for the release. 

You continue to shake with him, shivering at how the man makes you feel as if you’ve been lying in snow for days, but you keep your eyes closed. 

You’re terrified of him, of this, of the truth hitting you square between the eyes as if it wasn’t obvious all along. Fantasies, legends, fairy tales. How many of them are based in reality? 

You know what’s coming now, based on those same stories. 

The last bite, the drain, fuzzy images, death.

And you embrace for it, trying to relish in the post-orgasm bliss before it happens because you know there’s no way to run from him. If he’s truly what he says he is, there’s no chance in this world that you can stop him. You’re going to die, and the strange way in which your brain accepts the inevitable is more calming than petrifying. 

You never knew you’d be able to prepare for it like this, but here you are. Waiting for it. Accepting it. And when you feel the air of his body shift down to you, right up against your neck, you squeeze your eyes shut and hold your breath.

His cold hand tilts your face and all you can do is anticipate as you feel his teeth graze the abused and swollen marks there. 

Here it is. 

You inhale deeply, hoping that if there’s an afterlife, this last breath will be a good memory for you until–

A kiss.

He kisses the wounds. He licks them. He nuzzles his cold nose against them, and then he pulls out of you and lays directly on top of you. 

It’s silent as you lay here, still trying to prepare to fucking die and he’s just prolonging it? 

“Get it over with.” You gripe, frustration dripping out in your weak voice. 

It’s laughable, really, that you’ll sound so argumentative and petty over the loss of your life. So laughable that even he’s chuckling about it, right against your ear with no breath fanning against your skin. 

“Get what over with, darling?” He asks, not having felt this drowsy drained state in so long. 

Your mind is racing though, seemingly trying to think of everything that has ever happened in your life onto everything you wish still could happen, only to consistently land on the fact that you don’t want to believe what’s happening. 

You know very well the denial you’re forcing yourself into, even in the face of demise, you don’t want to believe any of this. 

“I still can’t believe that you’re— No,” You dead-pan before taking in a terrified breath, still keeping your eyes closed. “They’re not real.”

“I’m very, very real.” Sunghoon argues back, infatuated with the denial you try to keep. “You know that I am.” 

“So, you have to kill me then?” Your voice gets smaller as you accept the truth little by little, your breath shakier. “Fucking get it over with then, stop trying to savor it, it’s not like I can run now, right?” 

You still like the way he laughs, so breathy despite having no breath of his own. And through that laugh, he lends another kiss before you feel all of that weight lift from you and dip onto the bed next to you instead. 

“Don’t beg for it.” Sunghoon warns, pulling away from you and forcing his instinct to remember the release of the orgasm he just had. “I won’t be able to stop myself if you ask me so prettily.” 

You pause, your eyes opening against your will as you look at him. He’s facing away from you, but you can see the damp blood drying in the strands of his hair. Your eyes trail down, a puddle of blood staining nearly the entire lower half of the bed and it’s still dripping out of you. 

Or perhaps, that’s whatever it is he fucking shoved into you and fucked out of himself. 

“None of this is happening.” You say to yourself. “I did not just fuck a vampire.” 

“You’re right.” He comments with another laugh. “A vampire just fucked you.” 

Well. You’re still not ready to believe that. Even with the absence of heat, even with the lack of breathing. 

“Prove it.” You ask, unsure as to why you’re wanting it both to be real and just a dream.

You back away when he immediately does as he’s asked. Turning to you and crawling over you. There, he lowers his body, chest to your cheek. 

“Listen.” He says, reaching to hold your face and press it up and against his chest. “Anything?”

You wait, listening for a thump, anything to prove he’s wrong. Fucking any sound at all to blow his cover. 

You’re frozen as you listen, your body going into fight or flight as the seconds turn to minutes. Unfortunately, your body is not a fighter, nor a flier. You’re stuck with his hand on your cheek, holding you so tightly against something you wish was alive. 

A little thump, thump, thump could be the most relieving sound to you, but no. There’s nothing. 

You pull away from him now, body still frozen but head running a mile a minute. How many proofs does he need to provide for you to understand that it’s not fantasy? 

And finally, you feel your body jerk away from him on its own. He’s startled by the movement and you use that short second to roll off of the bed. You do your best to stand, but your brain immediately pulses in pain. Your vision goes fuzzy, dizzy.

Right, you’ve lost a lot of blood tonight. To think your toes aren’t still numb, to think you’d be able to stand without dropping to the ground.

“Thousands of years.” Sunghoon stands quickly, stalking over you and wrapping his arms around you. There, he presses you back on the bed and straddles your hips. “I’ve never told another soul and let them live to remember it– until you.”

You shake under him, the weight feeling more dead now than it ever has. He’s heavy as he holds you down, but somehow his grip on you is gentle. His voice is soft. His eyes are hesitant. He’s not holding you here to hurt you, it seems.

“My love, I told you time and time again,” He glances away from you, feeling something within him shrivel at the thought that now you’re unwilling. “Is it different now? To find that I’ve told no lies to you?” 

Still, he soothes you as you try to comprehend reality. You think hard through the dizzy fog of blood-loss, running more with your mind than your body. He did tell you. And you’re still alive. He just drank and drank from you, and you’re still alive. 

He came to your apartment, he told you he smelled you. 

He’s never lied. 

You just refused to listen. 

He drank you, he fucked you, he held you, and now he’s holding you. 

“I don’t want you to fear me.” Sunghoon admits with sad eyes, trying to ignore how long it’s been since he’s felt sad at all. 

So many emotions you force him to feel, this was not one he was looking forward to. 

“How can I not be afraid?” You breathe out in slurred speech, as if to mock him, because you now know that he truly can’t do it himself. 

“It’s too late to be afraid.” He says apologetically. “You’d have died weeks ago had I wanted it.” 

Why are you still falling in love with his voice? With his stupid grammar, and his horrifying dead-skin? Even with the fear in your stomach, why does this make your heart flutter?

“I’ve never felt so full,” He admits now, releasing his grip on you slowly. He can smell your heart slow, knowing you’re starting to calm now. “Until now.” 

You stare up at him as your eyes recover back to clear vision, in awe of how gentle a killer is being with you. Inspecting the way he’s drenched in your blood, yet you truly still are breathing. He could have killed you time and time again. 

But he didn’t. 

He’s never once lied to you about what he is, and still you struggle to believe what he says. Even when his words match his actions. Sure, he’s a vampire, but he’s not going to kill you? 

What reason do you have to believe him save for the blatant truth behind it? Do you want to believe him? Would you rather be dead?

He knows you can’t fathom the truth so quickly though, and that’s why he’s being gentle. He has nothing more than patience to give to you, if it’ll end in your acceptance anyway. The fact that he can hear your heart beating correctly again only gives him hope that he’s right about not having killed you on the first night.

After all, he truly hasn’t lied to you. Never has he felt full, even after killing several a night. Always hungry, always thirsty, always needing more and more of the syrupy life strangers offer to him under his lure. But you. Entirely aware, flowing with blood that drives him crazy…you’ve managed to fill that desire in him. 

Why should he lie to you? Why would he kill you if there is no need? Despite fighting the instinct, he’s satiated by you. His cold body warms with yours. He will never get enough of you, so how on earth could he just…take that away from himself?

And you do stop fighting. In fact, you lay with him in a bloodied mess and sleep. Despite wanting to ask questions, wondering if he can even sleep at all. Your body is tired, your mind is still petrified, and your hands still cling to the source of it, unsure if you’ll make it to morning at all.

Still, somehow, this feels holy. 

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

PART TWO Fanart by @a-the-na 🖤🖤🖤🖤

[ambrosiagoldfish]

I loved your Adam x 3rd spouse piece! I think you really captured his personality! I also just really like you're writing style! You did an qmzyjob and I think you'll continue make amazing pieces like this? Have a wonderful day or night and continue to rest if you can! 🥰🥰🥰

Benefit of the doubt Pt.3

Adam x 3rd Spouse! Reader

Viewer discretion is advised

Warnings: Hurt/Comfort, Angsty, General Adam TW’s, Reader HIGHKEY has a complex about being loved, Reader finally talks about their issues, Lucifer and Lilith scout for new kissing partner but fails miserably/hj, Lilith will probably be OOC in the future (once Season 2 comes), Adam has abandonment issues, Adam is a puppy in private but a bitch in public, And the couch returns once again (why do all the sad things happen on this couch), This is set way before the show, and Gn! Reader! (Annnnnd We popped the Y/n cherry! It’s used only once tho)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 4

Request box: Open

Word count: 3664

A/N: Hi!!! Thanks so much! I’m using your request as the ask for part 3 so I hope that’s ok! You all were so nice with all the love for part 1 and 2 😭😭🫶🫶 this part is also pretty long but I just couldn’t stop writing it. I wanted to do 1 more part set in the past before we jump to the angst that is the show. So I guess you could call this the penultimate part! A lot of people wanted to see Lucifer hit on Reader and try to do what he did with Lilith and Eve but with Reader. And I had quite a hard time coming up with a reason that could occur in the past but I think I figured it out.

Since Luci and Lilith would still be together at this time I’ve decided to add Lilith in as well for POLY GOALS. Also they may seem malicious but I genuinely don’t think they are (they just find Reader hot LBH) 😭😭 Also I added a few more people to the tag list!

Tags: @tired-of-life-86 @nervoussystemss @qopia @lovelyemily

It’s been a while since Adam first moved into your newly shared home. You weren’t sure exactly how long, it was hard to keep track of time in heaven. Days seemed to blur together. It made sense to you at least, it is heaven after.

After Adam moved in, your life was filled with so many new things to experience with him, and the same was true for him. While he may seem a bit brutish, (and at times he can be) he loved the new things you showed him, the new feelings you showed him.

You were so kind, so thoughtful and so, so patient with him. You never forced him to do something he didn’t want to do but you would still push him to explore new things, even managing to convince him to be a part of heaven's official duties. That’s why, at times like these, you knew exactly what to do.

The sound of Adam slamming the front door as he entered the house made you jump. Even from a few feet away, you could hear him mumbling curses about something as he plopped himself down on the couch. You followed quickly behind, gently laying next to him

“Hey, what’s wrong?” You try to keep your voice light and soothing. Looking at him it was obvious that something was bothering him. The gold feathers of his wings were unkempt from them flaring up, his halo was slightly crooked and his LED mask showed an almost snarled expression.

Your hand slowly caressed his wings, moving the out of place feathers back to normal. But no matter how hard you tried they would stick back out.

“It’s nothing, just some lame shitty meeting I have to go to tomorrow” he crosses his arms and looks away from you.

“Hmm? Something tells me there’s more to it than that, right?” You snuggle into his belly, rubbing it softly .

His mask pouts “Dammit’ bitch, how do you always see through me, huh?” He sighs defeatedly before continuing “You know how more people are starting to kick the bucket or whatever? Well, heaven’s worried about the surplus of sinners so they're having the aforementioned shitty meeting to come to a solution and…”

He pauses

“And?” You look at him anticipatingly

“And… He’ll be there.” Oh… So that's why he’s upset. “They’re having the meeting in their brand new “heaven embassy” down in hell.” His voice mocks

“Oh, I’m so sorry Adam, Have you tried asking Sera if you can sit this one out?”

Adam groans, putting his face in his hands “Yeah like forty fucking times but she keeps saying that it’s my “heavenly duty” and she won’t let me.”

You bring your arms around Adam’s neck pulling him in towards you. You weren’t sure what to do if you were being honest. There’s nothing you can do really, if even Sera won’t let him miss it. Hmm…

“Adam, I know it’s gonna suck but if you can’t get out of it, then that’s that.” Adam looks at you a little confused “but I can go with you, I’m sure Sera wouldn’t mind an extra pair of hands in the discussion.”

“What! Hell no!” He shouted as he sat up from the couch, shaking his head defiantly.

You look at him confused, “Why?”

“That’ll only make the whole thing fucking worse! If it’s just me, I don’t have to worry that he’ll get anywhere near you!” Adam’s mask turns into a slight grimace as he attempts to keep his eyes off you.

You make your way to him, the sound of your footsteps falling off as you stop in front of him. You grab his hand as the other one moves up to his face, cupping it.

“Adam…” you rubbed circles on his hand as you continued “We’re partners. You haven’t forgotten my promise right?” You play with the golden ring on his finger.

Adam groans “No, I haven’t… sigh Shit- Fine! But… just stay by me, alright?” Your face lights up before your arms wrap around his shoulders joining you both in an embrace

“Of course,” you rub his wings gently before you grasp his hands in yours, leading him by them. “Come on, you must be tired right? It’s getting late. Couch or bed?”

“Couch. I’m way not in the mood to make a bed right now.” You laugh at his comment as you pull him to lay on the couch with you. His soft, warm body pushes up against you as you both slowly drift off to sleep for the day ahead.

-

A not-too familiar sight laid before you, the pearly gates of heaven, guarded by the one and only Saint Peter. There was no real reason for you to ever come here. You never had the chance to die, which is when most, if not all Winners see it for the first time. No one’s allowed to leave heaven unless given permission by a higher up and on top of all that, you weren’t really that enticed to leave the oh-so perfect afterlife, so there had never been a reason to see these golden gates.

But now, here you were standing behind them with some other angels. You didn’t know most of them, the only ones you recognized were Sera and Adam. As expected, it was pretty easy to convince Sera to let Adam take you along. They even prepared an extra wide seat for both of you to share. How generous!

Ever since you woke up this morning, Adam had been… Nervous? Scared? The right word doesn’t really matter but he’s been sweating buckets and was clearly more agitated than normal. His feathers were once again unkempt and you tried your best to keep them in order but he always seemed to get them messy.

Eventually, right on schedule, a flaming portal opened in front of the group. Sera was the first to enter, then followed by the others. Finally it was just you and Adam but as you take a step towards the portal, Adam stops you

“What is it?” You look up at him.

“Just… stay by me, ok?” Adam’s voiced was softer than normal, a way he only did when you two were alone

Nodding your head with a smile, your hand comes down and interlocks his. One of his bright golden wings veils itself around you, bringing you closer to him. You snuggle into him slightly before you both step into the portal.

You didn’t know what to expect when you stepped through the portal but a sight that was almost like home awaited you. The familiar gold that heaven was so fond of was everywhere in the building, accents of white and orange were also present. All and all, it was a familiar sight in a not-so familiar place.

But there was definitely something that wasn’t familiar in that place. Sitting in a chair at the end of the room was him, Lucifer Morningstar. The aura he had definitely made him seem angelic but there was clearly something about him that separated himself from divinity. Though you do have to admit that he was much shorter than you anticipated.

There was something that surprised you however, to his left sat a tall woman with long blond hair and horns. It took you a second to put 2&2 together but when you heard Adam mutter “Shit…” you knew immediately it was Lilith. And from Adam’s reaction even he wasn’t expecting her to be there.

You squeeze his hand gently as comfort, giving him a smile before you both walk to your seat. Your body is pushed closer to him as his wing wraps tighter around you. Looks like there’s no calming him down.

Finally the meeting starts, Sera begins by explaining the issue of the fast growing population in hell, leading to groups trying to form uprisings against heaven. To be honest you didn’t really understand it too well, just a lot of business-y sounding words that weren't really your forte. So you just stayed quiet.

From what you could tell, the meeting was going… well? They haven’t been able to agree on a proper decision even with Sera leading the conversation. Adam though, was being eerily quiet. You don't even think he’s said a word since you both got there. Sera seemed to notice this.

“Adam, want to share any ideas?” Sera spoke in an encouraging tone slightly gesturing to him. This seemed to catch Lucifer and Lilith’s attention. Maybe they didn’t recognize Adam because of the mask?

Adam was caught off guard but still talked “Oh uh… Man, I don’t know, can’t we just fucking kill them?” Both you and Sera looked over in surprise, “What? That would solve the problem wouldn't it? “ He shrugged

Sera sighed “Ok, how about we take a short recess to clear our minds to let in new ideas. We’ll resume the meeting in 30 minutes”

With that, everyone went their separate ways for the time being, you and Adam were the first to leave the board room, he practically was pulling you along and you could tell he wanted out of there. You both ended up in the lobby, neither of you saying a word.

The silence was so very loud. The only sound was yours and Adam’s breathing. Adam’s hand was still firmly tied to yours, not even the slightest hint of letting go. You rubbed your thumb in circles over his hand when a voice echoed through the air

“Adam, may I have a word?” Sera’s voice echoed lightly through the lobby. She gestured to a door next to her. You both made your way over to her and was about to go in when Sera put her hand in front of Adam stopping him

“What the hell Sera?!”

“Alone, please.”

Adam’s LED eyes widened his mouth slightly agape. He looked down with a scowl before turning his face to you. Your free hand going up to his mask, caressing it.

“Go talk with Sera,”

“But-“

“Shh, I’ll be fine,” You give him a kiss on the cheek, the cold of the metallic mask reaching your lips, “I’ll just be in the lobby, I won’t go anywhere till you get back. Ok?” Adam didn’t look at you, clearly avoiding eye contact, you grab his chin lightly and gently turn him to look at you,

“Ok?”

Adam’s mouth formed a frown and he groaned “Fuck- fine, ok…” You gave him a smile as Sera walked into the room, you felt his grip loosen and loosen, until finally his soft hand left yours as he walked into the room. He gave one final look back before closing the room's door.

Silence filled the air once again. It wasn’t like it was with Adam, that comfortable silence that you shared ever so often. This one laid in the air, thick and heavy, threatening to suffocate you at any given moment. You sat on one of the many yellow and white sofas in the lobby.

You tried your best to ignore it. Paying attention to less important details about the scenery around you. The weird zigzagging pattern of the carpet of the floor, the intricate designs on the doors, the huge windows. Heaven sure had a unique taste in interior design.

You tried so hard to ignore the silence that you eventually ignored the sound that broke said silence. Footsteps began echoing through the lobby approaching you. You didn’t realize someone was next to you until you heard a voice say.

“Ahem Hello!” A male voice startled you as it chimed in with a sickening sweet tone. You look towards the direction of the voice only to be greeted by the king of hell himself, Lucifer. You jumped back to the other side of the sofa in shock.

“Oh sorry, I didn’t mean to scare ya.” He chuckled softly, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m Lucifer, But judging on your reaction, I guess you already knew that. I’ve never seen you before so you must be relatively new, right?”

You nodded your head sheepishly to answer his question. You honestly didn’t know what else to do, what could you do? You slowly picked yourself up from the sofa.

“I’m sorry but I have to go-“ you turn to leave only to bump into a tall woman. You must have been so surprised by Lucifer that you completely missed Lilith coming up behind you.

“But we haven’t even learned your name yet, Dear.” The woman’s voice sounded both somber but also welcoming, it was quite frightening how much it could calm your nerves if you kept listening to it. “How about we talk? No harm in it, right?”

“That’s a wonderful idea, Darling!” Lucifer came up from behind you, a sharp smile on his face. “Come on, sit and chat!”

Crap… they had you cornered. You had no telling what they’d do if you set them off, you wanted the meeting to go as smoothly as possible, for Adam. A few minutes to indulge them. that’s it.

You bit your lip but sighed “Ok… but just a few minutes”

“Great!” Lilith took your shoulders moving you to sit down beside her as Lucifer sat on the other side, sandwiching you between them. “So, I’ll ask again, what’s your name?”

You hesitated for a moment but decided it was better to get the conversation over with as quickly as possible.

“Y/n”

“That’s a very beautiful name,” Lucifer spoke, his tone trying to make him sound almost charming, almost. “So, if you don’t mind us asking, who are you to… Adam?” He gestured over to the door Sera and Adam went through earlier.

“I’m his spouse.” This time you answered with complete confidence, not even a shred of hesitation in your voice.

“Ah!” Lucifer nodded his head in understanding. “How’s that going?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, I for one know how much of a hassle that man-child is,” Lilith laughs, covering her mouth slightly “I asked around, is it true he hasn’t taken that ridiculous mask off since he got it, hmm? Has he even shown you his real face yet?”

“No but-“

“He can be so… tiresome at times, don’t you agree?”

“No. I don’t. Adam is the best thing to ever happen to me-“

“Exactly.” Lucifer interrupted you as your eyes furrowed “You don’t have anything else to compare it to. Of course you’d see trash like the “first man” as the best thing ever.”

Trash. That word really set you off, at least it would have, if it wasn’t for the next sentence .

“But hey! It’s fine! Eve was the same way! You too are honestly very alike, let me tell you-“

Thousands upon thousands of thin threads binding you up. That’s what this conversation felt like. Each annoyance was just a new thread getting tighter and tighter as they were pulled taut, threatening to simply slice through your body, your soul. But they didn’t, instead they kept stretching past their limits until finally those words came.

Like… Eve. It felt like each of those tightly pulled threads were all cut at once with those words. Any and all tension suddenly seemed to disappear. A strange sensation of losing any care about your situation.

You know what? To hell with the meeting! You quickly stood up from the sofa causing them both to jump slightly. You turned toward them, your voice was louder than you thought was possible for you. You weren’t sure what had gotten into you but you felt so… Angry.

“I am nothing like Eve. And I’m especially nothing like either of you.” You had enough, it was untelling what would happen if you stayed. You started walking toward the room Adam was in when Lucifer grabbed your arm

“Wait! That’s not what I meant-“

“Don’t touch me, snake” you stared daggers at him before quickly grabbing his hand and shoving it off.

“We’re sorry if we upset you Dear, but that’s no way to talk to someone” Lilith walks up to you, putting an arm in front of Lucifer in a protective stance.

You walk up to the tall woman, she was at least two heads taller than you but still, you barred your teeth before speaking “Oh! You really think I care about what the first whore thinks of me, Huh?” Your voice dripped with poison from every word.

Even Lilith seemed caught off guard by your sudden change in demeanor as her face turned into a scowl. Red horns protruded through Lucifer’s head, his eyes turning red with anger. You turn your attention back to him.

“What are you gonna do?” Lucifer’s gaze slightly softened with hesitation “Exactly, nothing. Less’ you want to dig yourself deeper into this cyst pool you’ve created for yourself and end up on even worse terms with heaven.”

Without even sparing them a glance, you try to make it to the room, only to be greeted by Adam and Sera standing by the door. How long were they standing there? You must have not heard them over your screaming..

“What the fuck are you assholes doing to them? ” You rush over and grab him by the hand, the action startling him “Babe, what happened-“

“Nothing. Sera. Open a portal back home.”

“But-“

“Sera!” Your voice was gritty and rough “open a portal. Now... Please…” your voice cracked at the end

Sera had never seen you show so much anger before, but here you were, your entire gaze filled with nothing but pure unadulterated wrath.Threatening to burn anyone who got in your way. Whatever happened clearly set you off like nothing else before.

Sera nods her head “Understood”

“Thank you…”

A familiar flaming portal opened up, you quickly made your way through it with Adam following suit. The portal ended up right inside your home, closing as you both were fully through. You honestly didn’t know where you were going but eventually your body couldn’t go any further than the couch

Feeling the soft couch beneath you made your aching muscles feel like they were melting away, and only then did you realize that you were crying.

Adam crawled next to you, hugging close to you. “What the happened out there, Babe?”

You felt your body slowly break down, as more tears left you then you had cried your entire existence. Adam hugged you tighter, his wings coming over you like a blanket.

“H-How much did you see?” Your voice was shaky as you sniffed slightly.

“Not a lot, just some shit towards the end,what did those bastards say to you?”

You cleared your throat slightly. “I only talked to them because I didn’t want them to get upset and ruin the meeting and make your day even worse than it already was”

Adam’s LED mask shifted into a small sad frown “Sweetheart, you never have to talk to any motherfuckers you don’t want to, let alone for me. “

You smile but look away “it wasn’t… it wasn’t…” you tried to get the words out but couldn’t. You took a deep breath before trying one more time,”It wasn’t the only thing that set me off.” Adam looks at you curious

“They said that I reminded them of… Eve, and it just made me so… angry. I was created for you, to love you-“ your tears start swelling back up as you spoke “I want to be so much better than Eve, than Lilith for you. And then she pointed out how I’ve never seen Your face, which I’ve always been fine with, but at that moment, I started to think ‘what if they’re right?’ What if the reason you don’t want me to see you is because I also remind you of Eve”

You choked back tears “So to be compared to her when I’ve tried so hard… if I’m not better than her for you, then what is even the point of me! I was created to make you happy, if I can’t do that better than someone who hurt you so bad then I’m just useless-“

Soft lips met yours, cutting you off. This felt different than what you normally got on the cheek. It was warm compared to the cold metallic feel you’ve felt previously. Your eyes opened slightly looking at Adam’s LED mask… or what you thought was going to be a mask. He had pulled his mask off while you were crying.

You pulled back from the kiss “Adam your mask!” Adam just kisses back again

“That fucking thing doesn’t matter right now.” He paused “You're not useless and will never be useless to me. Fuck- I love you because I love you! Not because you were created for me or some stupid shit like that! You make me so fucking happy. I’m sorry if I ever made you feel like you were just some object that was made to make me feel better, because you aren’t.”

“Adam…” to think tears could roll down your face this harder than before “I love you so much Adam” you cry into his soft chest.

Adam kisses you again “I love you too Sweetcheeks.” Adam paused before clearing his throat “So umm… how do I look? I hope I didn't disappoint you…”

You look up at his newly unveiled face, just as you had been told, short brown hair, golden eyes, and a little bit of stubble on his chin. By all accounts, he was completely ordinary. So ordinarily perfect.

“Perfect. So so perfect. What’d I do to end up with such a handsome husband, hmm?”

“Oh stop, now you’re just being fucking cheesy” he laughs, he would never admit it but his eyes were a little watery just from hearing you say that.

“It’s true though” you lean in and wrap your arms around him, killing you both with a deep kiss.

Truly ordinary. You couldn’t be happier

[risuola]

III — GAMBARE, GAMBARE // In the world of crime and blood, Sukuna knows what's off limits. You certainly are one of those things and yet, he's unable to stop thinking of you.

contents: smut, little angst-ish in some places, mafia!au, unprotected sex, a hint of body worshipping, violence, mentions of death, subtle threats, reader discretion is advised — 3,2k words

a/n: third part, thank you so much for support guys! it means the world to me to see how INSANELY big is the tag list now. i literally love y'all~ ❤️ also, just as the first part got inspired by the absolutely menacing quote from our king, it only felt natural to include the famous gambare, gambare (do your best) into this one.

ᴅᴇᴀᴅʟʏ ᴀᴛᴛʀᴀᴄᴛɪᴏɴ | masterlist

Sukuna prefers to think of himself as one of significant intelligence. Over the years, during which he ruled over the entire criminal milieu, he proved himself to stand atop of anyone who dared to even think of overturning his jurisdiction. All the exceptionally dumb bold ones that once wished to take the position of a boss from his hands had learned the hard way why troubles with Sukuna Ryomen are the least desirable fate of anyone who bears any volume of oil inside their brains.

It’s not only tactical or business intelligence that he’s priding himself with. It’s also the excessive knowledge about general rules of life that allowed him to comfortably push and pull the edges of what’s right and wrong, bending his own reality to his liking. Now it’s intuitive – he just knows where he can put more pressure and where it’s not worth his time. He knows what to bet his money on and what won’t realistically pay back. And most importantly, up until that point, Sukuna thought he can tell with his eyes closed which people he should consider crossing paths with, what men can be useful whilst he aims to reach his targets and which crowds he shouldn’t mess around with – for various reasons, most of which being just business and inconvenience. Same thing concerns women. Ryomen’s position works like a magnet and not a day passes by without girls, often way too young to even think of him, throwing themselves at him, led by fantasies of money and power veiled in the shades of love. If he wished, he could have a different toy every time the night falls and if he’d be just slightly less trained, he might have fallen for the temptation. But he didn’t.

Sukuna learned it from experience, not exactly his own, but of his pawns, that allowing random women in the proximity of their profession usually leads to catastrophes. Girls get persistent, they grow attached, they fall in love sooner than it’s even logical and then they threat, they blackmail; all of which eventually leads to their deaths because dealing with just barely adults that weaponize tears and screams is something he doesn’t allow in his circle. There were no exceptions, any man bearing similar power to Ryomen knows that there’s no place for romance in the world of death and bones, the one that’s stained in red and sorrow. If there happens to be love, it’s always of people from inside the criminal circle, sharing the same set of broken morals. Mafia should never tie itself romantically with civilians. Especially him, the leader, the menace that he is in the world of misdeed, murder and corruption, knew all too well why he should never, ever, even think of someone from outside of his tale as of anything more than one time plaything. That would be irresponsible, straight up naïve. It would be foolish. He knew all of that and not even once he felt any need to engage into any kind of relationship with someone that he deemed non-profitable to his general targets.

Then why the fuck he kept thinking of you? Why he kept seeing you after what was supposed to be a fun one-time fuck? Why did the taste of your lips and the sweet scent of your skin made him so completely addicted that he couldn’t focus on his own business without his mind wandering to the memory of you at least once an hour? He just liked your body, he told himself every time he thought of sending you a message. You were a good lay, it was purely physical. You did, after all, take his dick like you were born solely for this very purpose. He was meeting you only for sex and it was an accident that some of these meetings began with a dinner. All of the gifts he showered you with were just a form of payment for the service. Sukuna knew much better than to let his emotions take control of him.

“What’s on your mind?” Your quiet voice tore Ryomen out of the realm of his self-criticism. The tone that you spoked with was raspy, the testimony of the rough, throat-fucking he had used you for just few hours prior, and yet, it still somehow flowed with cottony softness, so characteristic to you.

“Nothing important,” he replied bluntly, lowering his gaze to where your face was buried into the broad muscle of his chest; your frame completely hidden in his own, much larger and stronger. It was another night you spent in his house, one of those that began with the reservation in one of Tokyo’s best restaurants that served traditional Japanese cuisine. You showed up in a dress made of dark olive silk, long enough to reach your high-heeled sandals and clinging to your shapes as if it was made to be worn over the divinity that was your body. The long, scandalous slit exposed one of your legs and the thin straps accentuated your shoulders and cleavage just perfectly. It was a dress that he himself bought and ordered to be delivered to you in an expensive box before that day. Now that very same gown was laying somewhere, discarded on the floor in the living room of his mansion.

“Sometimes I feel like you’re plotting my death,” you chuckled against his skin, the vibration of the act made him scoff because both him and you knew that the scenario you offered wasn’t exactly falling into the realm of fiction.

“If I were to kill you, I wouldn’t need to plot it. One bullet is all it would take,” he retorted with calm and despite any logic, instead of creating some distance, instead of running away you hummed at his statement and pressed your lips to the center of his chest.

You were way over fearing Sukuna and his world. The few months that you spend seeing him, you came to terms with the heavy weight of tragic fate that was now resting on your shoulders. It couldn’t end well, you shouldn’t tangle yourself with a man such as him, the path of your normal life should never come even close to the blood tainted one he was walking through. You should have never left the club with him and once you did, you should have run out his house the moment he gave you a chance. Instead of that, you stayed. That night, after the time of Ryomen’s pursue and the unfortunate event with Naoya and his gang, soon turned into two. Then just few more and then many more. The one-night stand evolved into continuous romance and though it was strewn with roses and intimacy, it came also with the realization that the more you see him, the less days you have left. There was no way for someone like you, an outsider, the mere civilian with no mafia bonds whatsoever, to be living a long life. Sukuna has enemies, there are people that want the power he holds and will eventually target you. That is, of course, if he doesn’t kill you himself over time – out of boredom or prevention. You knew a lot, he had told you more than he should.

But you loved him. You had seen him do some pretty dark things that would make most people’s eyes water, and in all honesty, it did the same thing to yours, but then, with you, Sukuna was always protective. You loved the way he always seemed to know just what you needed, the way he read you like an open book and knew just what to say or do to put you at ease. You loved the way he made you feel like the only woman in the world, how he made you feel beautiful, even on the days you felt like a total mess. He was a danger, a threat so deadly you shouldn’t play with it, he was a flame that you were bound to burn yourself on, but he was also the only person in the world you felt so safe around. Ever since you met, he had protected you. Even if his words were harsh and his own deeds rough, he never failed to envelop you in a bubble inside of which nothing and no one could hurt you.

“Oh, how much you’d miss me,” a certain sense of amusement hinted in the tone you used as the sheepish smile stretched your lips. Ryomen acted suddenly, grabbing the tiny thing that was your body and pressing your back to the mattress. His fingers wrapped around the frail of your neck; it wouldn’t take much of his strength to snap it and yet, you seemed rather comfortable with his grip secured around your airways. Over the time you managed to grow enough trust to know he won’t hurt you for no reason. Your lover was a man powerful enough, there was no need for seeding fear in you. You were also smart enough to differentiate the real danger from the playful acts. If Sukuna truly wanted you to be scared, you most definitely would be scared shitless.

“You think so?” His tone dropped an octave as he crawled above you; your bare figure now trapped underneath the weight of his presence. He got your legs between his initially, the heavy shaft of his dick rested over your lower belly as he shifted his hand from your throat down to cup your breasts. Your body seemed to never stop attract him, no matter how many times he touched and tasted it. You looked almost angelic in the dim light of that morning; the remnants of sleep still painted over your features and the only things that disturbed the innocence of your picture were the marks he had left on your plush, velvety skin. Red and angry spots that he sucked onto your flesh adorned the beauty of your frame, ultimately making you his own. “Aren’t you a little too confident?”

“I think I’m confident just enough,” you grinned playfully, smoothing over his hands, one staying on top of his palm on your breast and the other reaching up his arm to touch more of him. There was always a hunger lingering inside of you, you were never completely satiated and even if your body was utterly exhausted, you were always happy to take more. Sukuna made you feel ecstatic, like you were really his only one and though it was an illusion that you chose to believe in, it felt good to imagine yourself as his only care.

“And why would I miss you, huh? Aren’t you only a plaything for me?” The question he asked was meant to sound venomous but the sound of his voice betrayed the lighthearted intention. “Do you think I’ll blink twice when discarding you when I get bored of what you can give me?”

“I don’t think you’ll hesitate,” a chuckle once again shook your chest gently as you watched how Sukuna gently pulled your legs up from underneath him and brought one of your ankles to his face. The kisses he smeared along your shin were delicate, completely contrasting with the threatful impression that he was trying to make. He was worshipping you so openly, it made you blush every time. “But even though I know you wouldn’t think twice before killing me, I also think you’d miss me afterwards.”

Once the tender caresses finished, your calves landed on top of his shoulders as he leaned forward, squeezing a breathy moan out of you as he pushed his length into you to the very base of it, sliding on enough spit that it made the entrance easy. Ryomen learned your body through and through, he knew you can take it, he knew you’re always ready and eager to take him. Even if it’s early, even if it hurts. No matter when and where, if he told you to sit on his dick in the middle of a grocery store, you’d probably do just that and ask no questions. And yet, he knew where the boundaries are. Not once he pushed you when you were feeling bad. Not once he used you when you were not ready. The knowledge he now had about you came from observation.

“I think I would miss you,” he purred, his lips so close that they brushed against yours as he spoke. He’s got you in a mating press, filled to the brim with his bricked-up manhood and completely at his mercy. “You are addicting.”

“So keep me safe,” you whispered, cupping his face and chasing the kiss he was yet to give you. The request caught him slightly off guard. The pleading undertone made his heart clench; a feeling that he’s gone without for a decade at least and though he hated the odd sensation in his chest, he also couldn’t deny the warmth that spread throughout his body.

“You are safe with me,” the reassuring lie he followed with a heavy press onto your lips, sealing his words with his own tongue and silently promising you his protection. A vow that he wished to keep and yet, feared he won’t be able to. But now, it wasn’t important. Now you were here, in his bed, on his dick. Now there was just you and him.

Your dainty fingers found their place in his hair as he began thrusting into you. The new slick that combined with the remnants of the night made his movements easy as he dragged his hips back almost all the way out and then pushed back to the point of his pelvis clashing with the back of your thighs and your ass. The pace he set wasn’t fast. It wasn’t anything of what he’d most often pick, there was no violence intertwined into the melody of his hips. That morning it was sensual, it was deep and just rapid enough to stimulate every sweet spot inside of you. Stroke after stroke he was driving you crazy, he just barely started and already you felt yourself dripping. The filthy, wet sounds filled in the early aura and the muffled moans and whimpers accompanied them.

Sukuna allowed your legs to fall lower from where they were pressed against your chest and you hooked them around his hips. The newly earned access to his neck and shoulders you immediately used by allowing your hands to wander in the area, scratching his skin just to force a low purr from his throat. Every sound he made, you swallowed greedily as the kiss continued. Your tongues were dancing to the fiery rhythm of intimacy.

The coil in your stomach tightened all too quickly, you wished it to give you more time to enjoy what he was willing to give you but no matter how much you wanted your body to calm down, he made it absolutely impossible to achieve. Your veins were running with pure ecstasy and lust, the heated flurry that now was your brain was focused only on him, on the rhythm of his hips, on every sweet little lie that he whispered to you. Ryomen knew how to make you weak, he knew just how to angle his body to hit that one spot, the most sensitive one and you could feel him grinning against your lips. He knew you were close. The delicious squeezes that your cunt did on his girth were enough of a hint to notice and it gave him a sense of pride to be able to make you come undone so easily.

“Just few moments more,” he murmured and you nodded eagerly. Tears prickled in your eyes, gathering along your lash lines like crystals that he wished to kiss away, but was now too engulfed in the taste of your lips to part. His movements got quicker, just a little heavier as he began slamming into you with more force than at the beginning. Mornings tend to rid Sukuna from the ability to last – the ones that he spends with you in his arms, with your naked body pressed against his, unknowingly shifting against his dick for hours. That makes him unable to keep his composure for too long. Sometimes he feels like you strip him of all qualities that he once prided himself in, leaving him bare only to your eyes, with only the most primal needs exposed and he felt good with that kind of freedom.

“…don’t stop, oh god, ‘kuna~”, you were whimpering, arching your back underneath him and squeezing your little hands over his shoulders. “I can’t, I—”

“Oh, you can. Do your best,” Sukuna chuckled, teasing you with such impossible tasks. Your head fell back, your thighs were trembling against his sides and he could tell he’s losing you. You were far too deep in the realm of desire to hear his words; all of your world now came down to what you felt, to how you felt him and Sukuna loved your blissed out state. He loved the way he was the one to push you so far over the edge that you wouldn’t notice if the world was ending. But what he loved above that, was how you were gripping onto him; holding him tightly, pulling him closer as if you never wanted him to move away, as if he was everything you needed. And he was.

“God, you’re so beautiful,” he muttered against your throat, painting the skin over there with wet trails of kisses and new, red marks – the ones gentle enough to fade in a matter of hours. You moaned something incoherent. “Cum for me,” he allowed, not even sure if you’re registering his words. It had to be unconscious; the way your brain caught his voice between the blurry lines of everything else.

Your climax hit you like a rock; his name was slipping over your tongue continuously, so sweet and breathless that Sukuna was once again reassured that he never wants to hear anyone else calling him. Your walls were squeezing his throbbing length, he twitched and flexed inside you, groaning with satisfaction and before he allowed himself to come, he pushed himself up. As he sat on his heels, he pulled you with him; your body now on top of him and he used his hands to guide your hips up and down his dick. You wrapped yourself around him, finding a safe space for your face right where his neck connects with his muscular shoulder and all he needed to feel the bliss was the sensation of your teeth sinking into his skin.

White seed painted your insides as he shot it as deeply as he could reach with you on top of him. Few more moves, few more groans and you could feel him relax. His strong arms snaked around your waist as he shifted slightly to lean against the headboard, straightening his legs in front of him. You stayed pressed against his chest, catching your breath and feeling the tension leaving your body as the morning went by. And as Sukuna held you so close to his heart, he couldn’t rid himself of the feeling that it felt so right and that made the question bloom inside his brain. Was it still strictly physical? Was it ever only about sex?

taglist: @yihona-san06 @tiredscavengerskeleton @son4aras @vixorell @cecesharktales @isleqt @thickmacandcheese @captainchrisstan @bbylime @sad-darksoul @shartnart1 @kiki17483 @grimreaqueer @phoenix-eclipses @fan-of-encouragement @valleydoll @aleeeeeeees-stuff @marifujioka @going-to-californiaxx @just-pure-trash @edenofeve @impulsivethoughtsat2am @thigh-o-saur @heyohalie @matchat3a @bubblearts @littlemisspropaganda @aconstructofamind @lawislife18 @rzcnlb @sunukissed

[surftrips]

luke x daughter of aphrodite!! maybe a super cute fluff where they help luke show percy around and just their experience with percy!

-🥽 anon

stop this prompt is soo cute ! thanks for sending it in <3

"You okay?" Luke asked the newest camper in his cabin.

"Super."

"We all have them, you know." Luke clicked his tongue. "Intense, recurring nightmares. That's normal here. For the first time in your life, you're just like everyone else."

"So are you also... Do you not know who your..." the blonde boy began to ask.

"Am I unclaimed?" Luke shook his head. "No, Hermes is my father. That doesn't matter though, we're all on the same team here."

"Why is it okay they ignore some of us?"

"Spend too much time figuring out what the gods do whatever it is they do, you'll drive yourself crazy. Sooner you can stop worrying about that, the sooner you can enjoy what this place actually does offer."

"And what's that?"

Luke smiled, guiding Percy out the door to show him the rest of camp.

The two boys ran into Clarisse and the Ares kids first. Luke explained to Percy that the Ares kids were always confrontational and brutally honest, but he had nothing to worry about, as long as he was around.

"Come on, let's go figure out what you're good at."

After crossing off archery and metalworking, and dodging several near death experiences, they sat down for lunch.

"Is there a Greek god of disappointment?" Percy sighed.

"We're gonna find the thing you're good at, I know it," Luke reassured him. "We should try-"

Before he could finish his sentence, Luke's eyes lit up and a smile crossed his face, causing Percy to turn around.

A girl came over to Luke's side of the table and kissed the top of his head. "Hi, love."

Luke beamed, turning toward Percy. "Y/N, this is Percy, I'm giving him the tour. Percy, Y/N. She's in Aphrodite."

That much he could tell, Percy thought she was one of the most beautiful girls he had ever seen.

"Ah, bonjour! Comment ça va?" she asked him.

Percy looked confused, only recognizing the first part of the sentence. "Uhhh... hello?"

Y/N smiled softly, "Guess he's not in Aphrodite then. Any luck finding out your skill, Percy?"

"No, unforunately," Percy grumbled.

"Aw, don't worry. Soon enough you'll be like Luke here," she had moved to sit in his lap by now, one of his arms curled around her waist. "Did you know he's the best swordsman at camp?"

She looked at Luke proudly, Percy swore he saw hearts instead of pupils in her eyes.

"I think it's come up once or twice," Percy responded.

The Aphrodite girl smiled again, "Have you shown Percy the lake yet?" she asked Luke.

"No, not yet. Do you want to come with us?"

"You mean, do I want to show him the place where we met? Is that even a question?"

The trio finished up their food and headed back outside. Y/N led the way, her presence enough to clear a path in the group of campers idling outside. Luke and Percy followed a few feet behind her.

"So... how long have you two been...?" Percy asked shyly.

"Three years. Since we were 16," Luke responded. Though Percy had only known Luke for about a day at this point, he couldn't help but notice how Luke's entire demeanor had changed since Y/N's arrival.

"Oh, wow. That's a long time."

"I got really lucky."

"What do you mean?"

"Before I got here, I had nobody. I mean, there was Annabeth and Thalia, but they're like my sisters. Y/N was the one that showed me what love is."

"Is that what you meant earlier? About enjoying what this place has to offer?"

He smiled. "You might be surprised, Percy."

"Are you boys coming or not?" Y/N called back toward them.

"Yes, ma'am!" Luke yelled back, jogging up to where she was. They were almost at the lake by then.

"So, Percy, anyone at camp catch your eye yet?" Y/N asked, her hand wrapped around Luke's arm.

"Babe, he just got here." Luke said.

"So? I knew I liked you the second we met."

Luke blushed, caught off guard by her sincerity. That was one thing he wasn't sure he would ever get over, her ability to express her emotions so unabashedly. It was something he still struggled with from time to time, but for her, he would let down all of his walls.

"I wouldn't say I have a crush on her or anything- she kinda just scares me but she did catch my attention," Percy interrupted Luke's thoughts.

"What's her name?" Y/N asked.

"Annabeth, I think."

Y/N nodded knowingly, looking over at Luke. "Well, I guess we'll just see if anything special blooms there. Anyway, we're here!"

The sun was beginning to set over the horizon now, painting the sky in beautiful hues of purple and pink. A gentle breeze accompanied the three as they sat down by the water.

Y/N leaned against Luke's body, savoring the warmth he offered. He absent-mindedly twirled a piece of her hair.

"Three years ago, I was sitting right here, when I saw someone a few feet away from me. He was throwing rocks into the lake and disturbing my peace," Y/N began. "When I looked over to see who it was-"

"You saw the most gorgeous man you've ever laid your eyes on," Luke cut in.

"Hey!" Y/N playfulled smacked his shoulder. "I know you've heard this story one hundred times but Percy hasn't yet."

"Yeah, I haven't yet!" Percy backed her up.

The two older campers laughed. "Thank you, Percy. Now, where was I? Oh, yes, I saw this boy with curly dark hair and soft brown eyes, and I thought that's him. He's the one. This was before I was claimed by Aphrodite, but I just had a feeling, you know?"

Percy nodded, even though he wasn't sure he had experienced that feeling yet.

"But anyway, this boy looked kind of sad, so I decided to sit next to him."

"I think that's why he was throwing rocks into the water," Percy broke in.

Y/N giggled and Luke nudged her shoulder to continue.

"You're right, Percy, I had the same thought. When I sat next to him, I sensed that he was annoyed."

"Okay, love, let me finish from here." Luke softly kissed her shoulder and she buried her head in the crook of his neck.

"I wasn't annoyed-" he clarified. "At least, not at you. I had just been claimed by my father, but I was still frustrated with the whole idea of gods having children and just ignoring them. Then, this angel sat next to me and for the first time, I felt seen."

Y/N looked up at her boyfriend, her face full of nothing but admiration. No matter how many times she heard this part of the story, she still couldn't believe how she got quite so lucky.

"Percy, our parents may never redeem themselves for their wrongdoings, but I thank the gods every day they sent me Y/N." With that, Luke gently placed his hand on her cheek and leaned in to kiss her.

"Hello! As lovely as this story is, still a minor here!" Percy waved his hand in front of their faces enthusiastically, causing all three of them to burst into laughter.

[thatdeadaquarius]

College be kicking my ass but we continue on like Scaramouche (alive and kicking, but still crabby about it all lmfao)

Random idea but what happens when the acolytes got hold of Creator that is able to squeeze into small places (like a cat would but less liquid) and knows how to escape? Think of sagau but instead of all the deaths, its just they got overexited and chased the Creator the moment they see them which scared them shitless seeing a mob just appear out of nowhere.

I mean who wouldn't after seeing your favourite person in your favourite game just appear right in front of you? (I apologize in advance to the poor unfortunate sucker)

Imagine a world-wide search that keeps getting them heart attacks. Venti just flying by with Dvalin ony to see you on top of the floating pillar above Dragonspine LEANING PRECARIOUSLY OH MY ARCHONS GET AWAY FROM THE EDGE---

Zhongli walking around trying to find peace and quiet only to sense your presence which led him towards Azhdaha's domain and nearly shouted in terror seeing you hanging by one of the limestones above the slumbering dragon your grace what and how the in the fucking name of teyvat did you---

Yae Miko screaming in surprise seeing you inside one of the cupboards of your grace's house (you made a small temporary one in each country in case u need more rest) that she and Ei found in one of the remote islands.

Nahida and the entire Forest Rangers having one of the most intense, frustrating and most challenging game of hide and seek in the entire freaking forest.

You hiding underneath the sand like a fricking snake everytime Cyno spots you from a disrance.

-Vine Boom 🧨

I am no longer apologizing for lateness simply bc atp its basically assumed Im terribly sorry 💀 /so gen

  

Content under -----------------✄

☆

Sun: Reader, (you/they/them)

Orbit: Headcanons-ish, Imposter SAGAU? Imposter SAGAU Reversed Ver? unclear (NOT DARK)

Stars: little here, little there

Comets & Meteors: Content Warnings: reader/you thinks everyone is hunting them down, dark sagau fake-baiting lmao, & Trigger Warnings: none known.

Please comment if I missed any. /gen

No but the traumatic experience of you cautiously wandering into Mondstadt after realizing ur in Genshin like, ✨👄✨

and every single street/alleyway you try to go down to even avoid it is just people all looking at you like: 👁️👄👁️ ???

and ur over here equally just like: 😃 tf u lookin at????

u get up near the cathedral and finally see a playable character, Barbara, and she just fully GASPS and POINTS at you like she’s getting paid to be an actor for this

shouting sm nonsense like: “My Creator??? King of All???? IS THAT YOU?????”

and after which a few nuns check the commotion, Rosaria and Barbara’s Visions are glowing, and all join in heckling you

Venti coming (literally) flying around a corner on a breeze, saying he was trying to catch up to you, and ohhh now ur Convinced:

None of these bitches must be happy to see you, you did forcefully control their bodies if by the sounds of it they knew you/they must’ve been aware during the game, aw damn looks like u gotta run for your life now

You just book it out of Mond, Venti/Barbara yelling after you to come back, and meanwhile you’re leaving a shell-shocked Jean/Diluc/Kaeya (with Visions glowing) in ur wake on the way out

Not one being, mortal or otherwise, convinces you to stay in Mond, and you finally get to Dragonspine- the only place u know they wont follow

(well maybe the pyro characters but ur betting if u can make it up the mountain theyre not committed to,, running you down? arresting you?? ur not sure)

u make it all the way up and luckily everythings all solved like u did in the game, the traveler must be well into teyvat by now, and u decide to say “for the already achieved achievement” and fuck around and find out near the nail

U thought as u finally got on it u heard a scream somewhere in the sky, and u spotted Dvalin carrying Venti/Barbatos, and once again book it out of town (damn u cant believe theyre so committed they got the dragon in on it…)

so u haul ass all the way down the mountain, traveling only at night, living like a vampire, holing up during the day when u see Mond citizens/knights/gods/etc. walking around presumably looking for you

but u make it, finally! sweet, sweet Liyue, ur 2nd home (besides Mondstadt)

Only to immediately, like right outside the fucking gates to Liyue Harbor, run into Zhongli.

and he’s standing there like this mf knew u were coming, and the first thing out his mouth is some BS like, “…Darnell, that you??”/ref LMAOO

but instead of laughing abt it u just scream and run for your life haha

oh jesus h christ- he’s sending the adepti after you fuck- how hated are you??

sure u maybe hate Celestia a little, and sympathize with the traveler, but this seems a little extreme?!

you go to the one place u know he/any other adeptus doesnt like to come often, Azdaha’s cave

and after a night (well, day bc ur sleeping during the day now) of Azdaha sleeping peacefully, he wakes up fully coherent and u actaully have a rlly pleasant conversation with him about Liyue food lol

he also kept mentioning some kind of god? but like in reference to you?? are u connected to them, u kinda know a lot of gods atp so ur not sure which he means, a god to rule them all??? Celestia?? yeah u guess u know those fucks-

Cue u looking down from ur perch in the stalagmites above, u found a ledge and Azdaha helped you,

only to see a very concerned and borderline nervous Zhongli down below, Azhdaha just greets him like nothing’s wrong, but as soon as he sees you’re uncomfortable, helps you escape (more like teleport) away

(the old geo archon was probably nervous just be around Azhdaha u assume)

and now ur on the islands of Inazuma

u know exactly what islands are all but abandoned, the ghost one, the electrocuting one, and the scary bird one, all great options 👍

Raiden and Yae Miko manage to find you on every single one, with Yae getting more and more exasperated, and Ei getting more and more concerened with every position they find you in

hanging out on the banks of the electro river that would kill you if it weren’t for the little electro trees fending it off (thank fuck u maxed that shit out while in game)

bc u assumed they’d hate to be around it, plus lots of ronin- nope Ei is almost… scolding you?? oh but she’s got her Musou no Hitotachi out fuCK-

(she was slaying ronins that were getting too close to you)

she also is constantly jumpscaring you on tsurumi island/ghost island bc while the ghosts are gone, the creepy atmosphere isn't, and it makes her all the more terrifying as The Raiden Shogun comes walking out of the fog into the cave you've hidden in, stuff of ur nightmares for weeks as u just bird box style try to be silent and stealth around the island to get to an abandoned boat,

literally her scary ass purple sword glowing silhouette wandering around in the fog as you paddle away 💀

getting to thunder bird island and Yae Miko is literally both running/teleporting as quickly as she can to you, as you jump from floating rock to floating rock to escape her, god its so unnerving to watch someone so lazy running after you

she keeps getting in this weird “praising the heavens pose” sometimes when you jump, oh shit she’s aiming hER ATTACKS AT YOU THATS WHY-

oh good- she missed and deflected some stray debris coming ur way, u gotta get to the bird area and see if you can glide away (u managed to get a glider at some point thank fuck)

the bird is luckily on ur side against all these mfs trying to hunt u down (for controlling their bodies u guess) and flies u back to mainland teyvat

sumeru u thought would have the most mercy on u tbh, maybe fontaine bc Neuvillette only rlly cares if u break “fontaine” laws, maybe he wouldn't care to chase down a mortal like u over this

and nahida bc shes just nice

which is somewhat true, as you are acting like tarzan swinging around on vines and shit to escape the forest rangers

but she does show up in ur dreams, but shes just all foggy or distorted, u guess bc ur not of this world or smth??

and so it just unnerves u more, and u try to make it out to the desert, where at least there's no gods to worry about

mf ur hunkered down in a pyramid and see the shadowy shape of Cyno walking thru a sandstorm at you 💀

U dont kno how u got out of that one tbh, smth abt “king deshret made a plan for this” and left it behind for ppl to use to escape underground, sweet

And while Nahida and other eremites, scholars like Alhaitham/Kaveh/Dehya were looking around the desert sands, u slip by them

And u make it to the oasis at the edge of the desert, and steal an old rowboat to cross to fontaine (if i had a nickel everytime u needed to escape a god via old rowboat, youd have 2 nickels- )

and getting to Fontaine is not much better.

U literally get to the clockwork tower, foggy, ominous, uninhabited except for treasure-seekers occasionally, its perfect

until Neuvillette himself just strolls in abt 3 nights of u making camp there

u nearly shit urself as he just fake-knocked on a wall, meanwhile ur like hanging from the ceiling (four limbs out suspending you type of fictional shit)

luckily, mostly bc u were trying to wait him out (which wasn't possible ur limbs hurt so bad) he was, finally, the first person around u long enough to be genuinely kind and patient and answer questions

(Neuvillette acc couldn't figure out where u were at first, and was very confused how u got ur voice to boom around this chamber of the tower, after a minute of talking u trusted him enough to tell him to look up lol)

just in time too, he was able to hide u from the archons a little longer bc u were nervous

(u were already intimidated enough by Neuvillette being irl himself, talking to you, let alone all the other gods/vision users, as u realized afterwards thinking abt all the ppl trying to “hunt u down”, that if they all counted as ppl actually wanting to see you, that was a rlly overwhelming amount, esp if their first instinct is to run at you??? what are you, a fan-abused/disrespected kpop idol????)

☆

trying to be fancy and schedule posts once i get enough free time to actually wrangle my adhd to actually partake in my favorite hobbies 💀

well as long as I'm not getting slammed with lots of shifts again

hope u guys had a great weekend and have a good week! Happy late Valentine’s Day :)

Safe Travels Vine Boom,

💀♒

If you wanna join a taglist, DM me what for! "Pspspsss, please tag me for [All SAGAU posts, Only SAGAU Language AUs, diff fandom, etc.]!"

(If you ever wanna drop, just DM me! "No more taglists/[specifically this AU/fandom] please!")

♡the Beloveds♡

@karmawonders / @0rah-s / @randomnatics / @glxssynarvi / @nexylaza / @genshin-impacts-me / @wholesomey-artist / @thedevioussmirk / @the-dumber-scaramouche / @chocogi / @fallen-starr / @areaderofbooks / @devilangel657 / @esthelily / @justinsomniachild / @nanithefuck / @questionotmystopit

@kiyomi-uchiha777

[saintobio]

sincerely yours. (10)

↳ gojou satoru/reader

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

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

tags/warnings. depression, intoxication, trauma, implied suicide attempt, toxic relationships,

notes. important announcement ! as you all know, this series has always had an extensive approach into detailing the events in its side stories (ie. sera x sukuna x naoya, yuuji x megumi, maki x yuuta x miwa, etc), but while writing the chapters, the word count and the plot building had become too exhausting for me to produce consistently, esp with the amount of scenes and side stories i was introducing to the story, so i've decided it's best for me to stick to the main characters, reader & gojo, and will only add side stories as necessary. this really hurts me knowing that i can't achieve the level of comprehensive writing and world building that i did for sincerely not, but i really want to finish sy as soon as possible and removing a chunk of side stories would be some of the things that'd help me achieve that 😭 i hope you guys understand. hopefully i'll figure out a way to write those side stories instead of completely abandoning them mid-way in this series. but as always, thanks for ur continued support <3

series masterlist -> episode eleven

“It’s a little weird.”

What was supposed to be her bed time had turned into a moment of reflection for Sera who, instead of being fast asleep at this time of the night, had unconsciously brought herself inside Sukuna’s home office to join the up-and-coming tech mogul in his late-night programming. 

She wore her silk pajamas, pacing back and forth in her boyfriend’s office as her mind flew back to the recent encounter she had with her ex-boyfriend. Who knew that Satoru’s kid would look just like a carbon copy of him? No, actually, the question should be: who knew it would be a different woman by his side acting as the mother of his child? Sera had to laugh at herself, shaking her head as she realized how truly and undeniably ridiculous her ex was. It was clear that day that he wasn’t really as loyal of a partner as he claimed himself to be. 

Did he really just go through all those crazy things with you, only to look like a whore-hopping fool now? 

If he was bound to end up with someone else other than you, then why did he have to make Sera’s life miserable in the first place? 

She may have done terrible things before as a selfish and materialistic lover of his, but that wouldn’t change the fact that Satoru also contributed to her role as the side-piece in his marital relationship. He allowed her to cling to him like a mistress. Being his side-piece wasn’t even something that she had forced upon him. It was his promise, an idea that he planted on Sera’s head, saying that she would need to stay by his side and that he would marry her guaranteed that he had already secured the merger and divorced you. He swore like a fool that he would divorce you. But guess what? The jerk ended up falling in love with his wife and suddenly had no use of Sera. Suddenly, he was such a good husband who couldn’t be more loyal. Suddenly, he was a lovestruck man who had always been in love with his childhood friend. If he had downright dumped Sera the moment his engagement was announced, if he had not been prideful and ambitious since the beginning of his marriage, he probably would have had better luck at having that healthy relationship he yearned from you. 

But how come the blame of being the third-party was all on Sera when her only mistake then was loving the person who promised her all the good things in life? 

Now, you see, this was all just bitterness brewing at the back of her head. She knew what she did was still wrong and that she wasn’t innocent. Sera swore to herself that she would never look back on those awful days ever again, but seeing how Satoru was running around freely with a different woman just reminded Sera of his days as a spiteful, two-timing man. Somehow, it felt like he had changed and yet didn’t at all. 

Ha ha ha. How ridiculous was that? 

“What’s funny?” asked Sukuna, her present boyfriend and thankfully so. He was Sera’s blessing, because she never would have thought that a man like him could still exist in a world full of Satoru’s and Naoya’s. “You look cute smiling to yourself, though.”

“I know,” she responded to the compliment, shifting to settle herself on his lap, though his attention remained fixed on his laptop screen. “It's just strange to me,” she continued, her voice thoughtful, “how Gojou appears his usual self, yet there's something off about him.”

The question clouded Sukuna’s eyes in confusion, tilting his head to the side as he tried to comprehend her description. “You mean dude got uglier?”

I wish, Sera thought. “No, he’s… he’s different. The vibes are different. For a second, he even looked like he was dissociating the whole time he was with that girl,” she said, referring to Satoru’s new girl as though she was your cheap alternative, “But then again, why is he with her in the first place if he looks absent-minded the whole time, you know what I mean?” 

“Was he like that with you before?” 

“At times, but it’s not like the way he’s acting right now… I don’t know, I can’t explain it. The energy is off. That’s just not how he acts when he’s really, really into someone.”

To be honest, Sukuna didn’t give a damn about Satoru Gojou’s life and any normal boyfriend wouldn’t really like hearing their girlfriend talking about another man, especially her ex at that, but he knew Sera found joy in old money gossip and he was aware of the demoralizing past she has had by associating herself with them. Sukuna was acting all engaged in their conversation because he wanted to make her feel heard and that he shared her simple joys in life. Besides, it was through her that he learned so many inside scoops about the people that ran the country’s biggest conglomerates. It was like watching one heck of a messy episode of Dynasty. 

“Didn’t he get into a car accident?” he recalled, remembering the headlines on the news that day, “Then, we saw him at the expo and he couldn’t really remember you. The guy’s probably got his head all messed up.” 

Sera was bitter at the time thinking that Satoru was toying with her when he asked who she was, when the truth was, he was actually diagnosed with amnesia. It was such a shock to her, truthfully, because having amnesia felt like something you would only see on a movie’s screen. Well, in that case, she could also say karma’s a bitch. The director might be onto something here.

“He’s probably not mentally fine, but still…” she thought carefully and played the scene in her head again. What was it about the Gojou that she saw the other day that was different? “He just has a different vibe to him that it feels uncomfortable. It’s like he’s rude, but not so rude? He doesn’t have much of a personality anymore. Like a complete stranger.”

“Maybe it’s the new girl rubbing off on him.” Sukuna was back to typing on his laptop as he said that. Frankly, he was just saying anything at this point. 

Sera shook her head in response. “Well, I don’t know about that girl he’s seeing and I don’t really care, but it’s common knowledge to the filthy rich that she’s Y/N’s best friend. That’s why I recognized her right away, and that’s why it disgusted me,” she pressed on, “Tell me, would you—and be honest about this—would you fuck your best friend’s ex?” 

The humor on her boyfriend’s face came right as she asked that. “Babe, you fucked a married man. It’s worse than fucking somebody’s ex.” 

“Shut up.” Rolling her eyes, she got up from his lap and sighed, but Sukuna wasted no time in pulling her back onto his lap. His chuckle was mingling with the gentle kiss he had planted on her cheek, unaware that his actions made Sera’s heart flutter. “Forget it. I shouldn’t even be talking about Satoru with you.”

The man stretched his arms and finally closed his laptop, patting Sera’s thigh afterwards. “On that note, I do have another ‘dude from your past’ that I gotta meet tomorrow.” 

Her reaction alone was a response for him. “Naoya?” she protested, face contorting with disgust. “What for? I told you not to take on that project.”

“Yeah, I considered it, and you know, the partnership could really benefit CleaveTech,” Sukuna reasoned, leaning back as he outlined the situation to her from a business standpoint. Given her own background working for the Gojou Group before, he expected her to grasp the significance of this partnership and set aside any personal grievances or emotional attachments. “The Zen'in Group is a major client. It’s all pros and no cons here.”

“The contra is the guy you’re gonna work with,” she highlighted with a hint of annoyance rising from her throat, “Naoya is nothing but an opportunistic motherfucker. Mind you, he’s a stupid elitist, too.” 

He held back a laugh, not even threatened by a man who had a terrible history with his girlfriend. “Nah, I’ll deal with him. Just trust me on this.” 

As much as Sera wanted to object, she knew Sukuna had a point and that she really shouldn’t hinder his company from being partnered with such a large conglomerate. She just didn’t like the thought of her boyfriend being around a man who manipulated and humiliated her to the point where she had been blacklisted by multiple companies, leaving her to resort to being somewhat of a prostitute just to make ends meet. 

The world was harsh for the not-so-rich, and all Sera wanted was to give those upper class people a taste of their own medicine. But seeing as her desire for revenge would clash with her boyfriend’s chance at company growth, she had to set aside her personal grudge and support him on this one.  

Still, there was nothing wrong with being curious. “Is there any other reason you agreed to this partnership?”

Sukuna smirked as if he expected that question from her. “Blame it on my little brother, he’s been bugging me ‘bout it.”

“Yuuji?” Sera asked, clearly confused. 

To which her boyfriend quickly answered, “Yeah. He said it’ll give him an opportunity to work with his best friend. You know that kid, Fushiguro, right?” 

Ahh. Toji’s kid aka the heir to the Zen’in business empire. Sera had met Megumi before, and while that other brat Mai used to be unreasonably rude to her, the younger boy was always civil and respectful at least. He never even once treated Sera like dirt when she was spending time with Naoya at their mansion. Perhaps their upbringing really differed because he was raised by Toji and the other Zen’ins were raised by demons. 

Nevertheless, with a connection now established between Sukuna and Naoya through Yuuji and Megumi, Sera couldn’t help but feel that her peaceful days as a nouveau riche were about to become far more intriguing. Depending on the cards she would choose to play, they could even turn into a living nightmare. 

— —

You weren’t exactly abandoning your company; you were merely taking a break, a necessary pause given your current mental state after the whole break-up with Toji and the Osaka thing. Your mind was just too overwhelmingly occupied to even properly function. Each day, mustering the energy to show up at Hearte's head office became increasingly challenging, especially when faced with individuals who relied on you for major decisions and creative direction. 

To make matters worse, Akemi’s sudden resignation hit hard.

You received her decision by a simple letter, a mere piece of paper, without even having the guts and decency to meet with you in person. Was she scared? Or was this her way of rubbing salt on the wound, shoving it in your face that she was now taking things to the next level with your ex-husband? 

She did cite in her resignation letter that her reason for resigning from the role was due to conflict of interest. You wanted to laugh when you read that part. No, you wanted to choke in your fit of laughter after reading through her asinine reasons. She could have been upfront and mentioned that the so-called ‘conflict’ was the very man her best friend had previously married. 

Obviously, everyone in the office felt sad knowing that a core member of the company left without at least a 30-day notice, but they were all also aware that her resignation was due to personal albeit controversial reasons. Did Akemi not care about her image at all? The same colleagues she had trained, managed, and collaborated with would now likely gossip about her behind her back. She would become a hot topic of disrespect among the people that once heavily respected her. Did she also not care about the company you two created together anymore? This was the same company you two had passionately dreamed of during your late-night conversations on a New York rooftop. She was the one who wanted to build a fashion house together with you.

Yet, it seemed she was willing to throw it all away for a man already entangled in complicated familial dynamics. Her immediate resignation and refusal to speak to you in person just further confirmed it to you that Akemi was willing to forsake your friendship by choosing a man who already had a child with someone else. 

Since she chose that path, you couldn’t help but interpret Akemi’s actions as a deliberate slight against your friendship. It seemed clear that she no longer viewed you as a friend and was essentially cutting ties with you. Otherwise, why would she take such a step? Akemi wasn’t the type to be vindictive; she likely believed she was sparing you further pain by severing your connection. However, regardless of her intentions, her actions felt deeply disrespectful and hurtful.

If this was what she wanted, then kudos to her and her unbelievable confidence to choose a man like Satoru Gojou. Besides, it didn’t even take you a week to find another replacement. Your family connections were powerful after all. You readily had a pool of potential candidates for the role of the Head of Sales, Retail, and Merchandising—all from prestigious backgrounds and unparalleled expertise. While the competition was tough, you selected the person you deemed was the most qualified to be your second-in-command. This was someone you had esteemed since college, a person who excelled in both business acumen and creative vision.

Yuki Tsukumo. She was influential in every sense, and you trusted that she would be able to manage the high pressure environment of a start-up fashion house and transform it into an iconic brand, a household name that would one day rival Chanel and Miu Miu. 

You may have succeeded in replacing Akemi. You may have shown her that her position in the workforce was easily replaceable, but her role as your friend still left a lingering, repugnant mark that proved far more difficult to erase. This underlying sentiment could explain the unreasonable anger festering in your heart—a visceral reaction born from feelings of backstabbing betrayal. 

It was hard enough for you to travel all the way to Osaka with a broken heart, but it became much more agonizing to watch your own son run up to Akemi like she was his mother. It was a goddamn slap to your face, indeed, to see that your ex-husband had already chosen a woman to have his happy, little family with. That he wanted to be a good man and be everything you wished for in a husband for her. 

As they say, nothing hurts more than building a man for another woman. 

And honestly? You cried so much on the way home that you became numb. Now, you were just trying to get over it. You were trying to bury the searing pain in order to forget the betrayal you felt. It was all too much for a person to handle and it wasn’t like you hadn’t gone through the same old shit before. Wasn’t it worse before with Satoru actually cheating and all? He technically wasn’t crossing any lines here, so it shouldn’t hurt you. It shouldn’t. You had been here before. If you had managed to get through such an awful time as his previous wife, his relationship with Akemi shouldn’t be too hard to accept. No, you weren’t trying to lowball your pain, but it was better to be an optimist in this situation than be a suicidal, self-destructive person. You had a business to run and a child to raise. You had to be strong. 

Or at least, that was what you told yourself. That was what you had been telling yourself over and over, each time you got up from bed forcing yourself to have a false positive mindset. In fact, that was also why you had to take this extended break because you had to have your peace of mind. You had to have some form of release to remember why you needed to stay alive and keep yourself going.

Not just for Sachiro’s sake, but also for your own. 

Your safe haven for now was at the horse ranch, where the tranquility of riding and the beauty of nature provided the perfect ambiance for reflection. How long has it been since your last visit to Willow? Your father had been joking that you shouldn’t be leaving a beautiful, white Friesian horse unattended for years, especially not for the expensive price he paid her for. True enough, because the moment you saw the mare again, you almost forgot how majestic she was for her breed. Willow was a completely docile and graceful horse, so alike to you in many ways. However, one thing that was unlike you, was that she lived in peace, existing solely for herself and not for anyone else.

If only you could be like her. 

As you reached out to stroke your rare-breed horse, a new and unfamiliar stallion in the stable caught your eye. To think of it, your family shared this equestrian estate with the Gojou family. This realization meant that the strikingly elegant and tall gray horse in the adjacent stall belonged to none other than Satoru.

“It’s a Thoroughbred,” the equine caretaker informed while guiding your horse out of the stable, “Mr. Satoru got him recently and named him Six.” 

A gray Thoroughbred, renowned as the most expensive horse breeds out there. It could fetch a price as high as $70 million, and of course, Satoru was the perfect owner for such a prestigious horse. The stallion embodied his essence completely—its color, its build, its rarity. On the other hand, you couldn’t help but find his naming convention by number a bit odd. His previous black stallion was named Eight. This time around, it was Six. Couldn’t he be more imaginative?

“He’s beautiful,” you mumbled, nonetheless, in awe with the regality of the horse. 

“He’s a good boy, too,” added the enthusiastic horsekeeper in a thick country accent, “Mr. Satoru was here yesterday and played polo while riding him. They were perfectly in sync even if it was his first time riding him.”

Of course, he would play polo. That was one of his favorite recreational sports. The burning question at hand was, who was with him during his visit? Because if the caretaker mentioned Akemi, you would certainly lose it. This was your private space with him. This estate was a place that none of his other women had access to, not even Sera. This was a location filled with memories from your childhood. For him to bring another woman here would be crossing the damn line. 

“Did he bring anyone with him?” you asked, trying to sound casual as you dusted off your boots. 

The caretaker denied. “No, he was alone. He just came to play polo and check the horses he recently bought.” 

Oh… “He bought more than one?” 

Did he seriously get Akemi her own horse? Your heart was racing at the thought, but the caretaker led you to the stable near the exit to show you the other horse than your ex-husband had purchased. It was a brown Shetland pony. 

“He got a fully trained Shetland for your son,” the horsekeeper proudly declared, showcasing the pony as if he had been instructed to do so in anticipation of your visit. It was obvious that Gojou had already briefed him on introducing Sachiro’s new pony to you because he knew you would be asking about it. “His name is Elmo. He is kid-safe and very friendly.”

Frankly, you wanted to sigh in relief, but at the same time, it warmed your heart to know that Satoru got his son his own horse at such a young age. You could already sense him planning to make Sachiro take equestrian classes when he gets older, and probably join him on his horseback riding sessions, too. You could imagine just how perfect it would be to see the father and son bonding here, racing together, playing polo together… yet it would not be you who would be watching them on the side.  

This future he was setting up with his son would be an experience he would share with Akemi. 

There was no you in that vision anymore. 

The caretaker likely questioned your sanity when he noticed the bitter smile on your face as you mounted your mare. He might have even doubted whether you were sane enough to ride alone, without a guide, particularly through the woods since Willow had not been ridden for some time now. However, you had done it countless times before and were quite familiar with the trail, and so you dismissed his offer to lead you and assured him confidently that you knew your way back.

You needed this solitude. You craved this moment of peace, alone with your thoughts and surrounded by nature, to reflect on the ceaseless torture of your life. It was just never-ending, squeezing every drop of happiness out of your system to make sure that you would only live to suffer. You really thought you had your happy ending with someone else? You actually believed you had found the perfect man to be your actual husband? 

Well, unfortunately for you, Toji was not the one. 

At first, your mind flew to Toji as you went on to the trail, allowing the mare to continue trotting as you held the reins to control her. You remembered Toji’s text that morning, asking you for the hundredth time if he could meet with you. He likely wanted to apologize in person, but you doubted he would change his mind and take back the things he said. Because they were true. He could never fill the void left by his deceased wife by being with another empty soul. It was painfully, unmistakably true. You were better off dead if that was the case, because even if you did end up marrying him, you would never be regarded as the person he loved the most. After all, your role in this world seemed to always be the second option. You were never the first in other people’s books. Not with your ex-husband. Not even with your family, especially with Gen around. You were meant to be a bystander, watching others live their perfect lives while you were forced to be in your misery. Someone like Toji would not have a guaranteed blissful marriage with you and you had to spare him from that. You had to draw the line and step back from this charade that you were playing with him, knowing that you were never the right person to be with him, so at some point, you had to accept his drunken words. They came from a place of truth, and that truth would set the both of you free. 

Even it hurt. Even if it fucking hurt to hear his words. You couldn’t deny them. 

You could easily forgive him, but his words might take a while for you to forget because even thinking about it now was bringing a wave of pain into your chest. You didn’t even notice that you were losing control on Willow’s reins by the time you entered further into the woods, bouncing on the saddle as you galloped along the challenging path. With the speed you were riding right now, inexperienced riders would certainly find it unsafe and scary. But for you? It was just what you needed. The breeze of fresh air, the thrill of riding alone, the peaceful sound of nature—you could die there and be at your happiest. 

Maybe that was where you had to be; to disappear and leave them all behind. Wouldn’t that be best for everyone? If you were to vanish, they could finally be free. Your presence, even from the beginning, was a burden for everyone—for your dad, Gen, Satoru, Toji, and even Akemi. The people you trusted the most would be the same people who would secretly celebrate your demise. So, what else was hindering you from taking matters into your own hands and ending it all yourself?

“Giddy up!” 

Was it Sachiro? Definitely. But now he had his father, and he was likely starting to see Akemi as a mother figure as well. Your role as his beloved mama could be easily replaced if you were to leave him now. It wouldn’t hurt him as much that way. Three years with Sachiro seemed sufficient enough, and he was at an age where he could grow up alongside his father. In this short span, he would have lasting memories with you, yet not enough to deeply grieve your absence. He was a young child, surrounded by people who would offer the whole world to him. At least, for that, you were eternally grateful. It brought you comfort knowing that your son would have support after you were gone, and that he would find a mother figure in Akemi. Given the brief time he spent with you and the rest of his life with her as his stepmother, Sachiro would likely come to love and accept Akemi as his own mother. This was the best outcome you could hope for.

My child, my son, my baby… please don’t get mad at mommy. 

Tears were gushing out of your eyes and you hadn’t even realized it until they started blurring your vision. You were far too lost in your own thoughts, unaware that you were now in an unfamiliar and seemingly dangerous part of the trail. The path was getting a little bit too steep and poor Willow was clearly stressed at your inconsiderate handling. There were multiple obstacles on your rocky terrain and you weren’t as steady and controlled as you wanted to be because the horse wasn’t comfortable navigating such a difficult path with the pace you were forcing her to.  

“Ah!” 

Your attempt to balance was interrupted by Willow’s loud neigh, signaling her distress before she bolted into a full rampage. She was sprinting at an estimated speed of 20 miles per hour. Not even a skilled rider like Satoru himself would be cantering that fast on unfamiliar terrain and an unfit horse. But you, you clearly had a death wish, because instead of fearing for your own life, you were far more concerned at the thought of how dreamy Satoru and Akemi’s wedding would look like after your demise. They would definitely make Sachiro their ringbearer. Suguru would be the best man. Shoko, the maid of honor. People on the internet would praise them for being an attractive couple. They would anticipate their beautiful kids together, living in the same mansion he bought as a gift to you. He would kiss her good night, tell her loves her, and offer the whole world to her. They would exchange vows and promise themselves a lifelong commitment to be by each other’s side through sickness and in health, and only in death would they part. 

“Willow!” 

You let out a shriek as the reins slipped from your grasp, causing you to tumble off the saddle and crash onto the ground. The impact was first felt in your elbow, and a sharp, searing pain then radiated through your body. There you lay, sprawled on the dirt, helplessly watching Willow galloping out of control up the mountain, and then tragically plummeting off a cliff.

“Nooo! Willow, no!”

Utter hysteria overtook you. You sobbed uncontrollably, unable to determine which pain was more agonizing—the clearly broken elbow, the loss of the horse you had inadvertently led to its death, or the heart-wrenching reality of Satoru starting a family with someone else.

You were pathetic. You were such a pathetic excuse of a human being and this was why you deserve hell. 

“Willow!” 

Toji couldn’t love you. Your own son didn’t want to be around you. Satoru had gotten over you. And now, you drove a poor innocent horse to its demise because of your recklessness! 

You were crying hysterically as you held your pained elbow, crawling by the cliff’s edge as you screamed for your horse’s name, but in the end, there was nothing you could do. You could only apologize to poor Willow for having such an irresponsible owner, and now she was dead because of you. 16 years of her life, she was able to live in peace until you came and ruined it all for her. It should have been you. You were the one who should have jumped off a cliff. You should atone for your sins and follow her, but you were too weak, far to overcome by the excruciating pain on your hip and your broken elbow to move or do anything at all. 

That was, until your mind had completely shut down, leaving you as a mere body to be discarded alone in the darkness of the woods. You hoped that no one else would find you soon. 

— —

“A-Angina?” Satoru’s eyes went wide. His whole world stopped before him.

“Yes. She was diagnosed with stable angina,” Dr. Mori confirmed, much to your husband’s horror. “But there is another factor that requires her to have more rest. You need to take good care of your wife, Mr. Gojou. Her body needs a lot of nutrients so she can carry safely.”

He could barely process the whole thing in his head because the news kept coming one after another, leaving him in a befuddled state with a flood of unanswered questions running through his mind. “What do you mean…?”

“Your wife is seven weeks pregnant.”

…

…

“Y/N?”

“Y/N!”

“Are you out of your mind?!” 

You could barely pry your eyes open, but when you finally managed to, you were met with the concerned expression on Gen’s face. The harsh glare of fluorescent lights and the antiseptic scent confirmed to you that you were in the ER, likely an hour or two after the incident in the woods. The memory of the trail quickly flooded your thoughts, and a pang of sorrow gripped your heart as you recalled Willow's final moments before she fell off the cliff. The poor horse had lost her life, while the one responsible for her tragic death remained alive, save for the bandage wrapped around your arm.

“Why did you ride into the woods alone?” Gen persisted with her barrage of questions, standing by your bed as you attempted to sit up. “Are you suicidal or what? Riding your horse in a dangerous trail like that—”

“You know what, maybe I should have just died back there!” you snapped, wincing from the pain in your elbow. Her choice of words struck a nerve in you. “Maybe I’d prefer that over sitting here, listening to your sanctimonious lecture like you're so perfect yourself! How obnoxious.”

“Then, maybe you shouldn’t be riding so recklessly and causing alarm to everyone else!” 

“Did I literally ask you to come save me?!” 

The atmosphere around you two just became even more uninviting, with discomfiting silence seeping through as you and Gen were engaged in a sharp glaring contest. Your father stood behind her, clearing his throat to cut the tension. 

“That’s enough, Gen.” Your dad placed a hand on her shoulder, and although she wanted to protest, she knew better not to keep stirring the pot after receiving his strict gaze. “Let’s just be thankful your sister is safe. There’s no need to be so overwhelming.” 

You rolled your eyes, drawing in a deep breath before you looked away from them. None of them would ever understand your pain unless they were in your position. They didn’t carry the same baggage as you, so they would never fully comprehend the weight of your suffering. You had already dealt with similar pain on your own before and that was why you didn’t need any of them to come to your aid, meddling with your life like they knew exactly what you were going through. “Just leave me alone, you guys. I wanna rest.”

Since when did your relationship with your sister start to get rough? It wasn’t really like this before, but ever since she started to become too overprotective over you and your choices in life, particularly choices linked to Satoru, Gen had started to become insufferable in your eyes. She was acting too much like a mother; controlling your decisions, lecturing you about your personal relationships, being too involved with your private life. There, ever since that, you started to distance yourself from her, and she didn’t like that. Her stubbornness wouldn’t allow her to cease acting like this mature, picture perfect big sister to you. 

With that said, Gen would have normally gotten annoyed when you asked them to leave you alone, but this time around, she seemed to have reflected on her insensitivity a lot better with your father around. “I’m sorry, okay?” she said, her tone still tinged with stubbornness, “I just got worried. I don’t know what’s gotten into you to put yourself in danger like that, but… please, Y/N. If you’re going through something, you can always speak to us. Dad and I, we’re here for you.” 

To be fair, if you had to put yourself in their shoes, it really would have been alarming to know that your sister almost died. This wasn’t the first time you were at death’s door either, so they were probably scared shitless when they were informed of your situation. Your absolutely reckless situation. You didn’t mean to cause a scene, neither did you intend to bother them on their already busy schedules. You just had so many things in your mind while you were horseback riding, too engulfed by your own sorrow that you didn’t realize the repercussions after the incident had already taken place. 

“I’m sorry, too.” Your voice softened with humility. “I didn’t mean to worry you guys. It was just really an accident.” 

Of course, Gen suspected it was more than just an accident. Your dad did, too. It was obvious on their forlorn faces that they were worried for your mental and emotional well-being, but none of them dared address the elephant in the room. It seemed they didn’t need to, anyway, since one of the many reasons that contributed to your earlier breakdown took a peek from behind the curtains, clearing his throat and sending you a look of sympathy. 

“Y/N?” Toji looked at your father and your sister for approval before stepping further inside your space in the ER. “Can I talk to you?” 

There was no escaping Toji’s presence anymore. No more hiding, no more avoiding. You knew you had to have this talk with him no matter how many times you ignored his flood of texts and calls. While this may have struck as an opportune moment for him to speak to you in person, facing the painful truth of your situation weighed heavily on you. Besides, hadn’t the irony presented itself right there? If Satoru were the one trying to speak to you, even if he was the father of your child, Gen would have been quick to lash out at him. Yet with Toji, even with the general knowledge of what had transpired between you two, your sister still showed no hostility towards him, allowing him to approach you freely and without interference.

But then again, Toji was far from being a cheating, manipulative scumbag who not only caused you suffering but also sought to selfishly acquire your family’s company. Therefore, he wasn’t considered a threat. 

Alright, then. Since Toji genuinely wasn’t a threat to your current emotional state, you agreed to talk with him. It was the first time you had seen the not-so-confident side of Toji Zen’in. He was typically a man of virtue, often holding his chin high, offering the best advice, and having insightful perspectives on life. However, it seemed you had shattered that confidence in him. You could sense his cautiousness around you as he stood by your side in the ER, assisting you with your needs, and eventually agreeing to your request to walk you to the rooftop garden.

“I don’t really think there’s anything else we should talk about.” It was you who first broke the silence, staring at the cityscape while sitting on a wheelchair. The calm breeze allowed your mind to seize the moment with a peaceful mind. “I already heard what you had to say.” 

Toji found it better to kneel down in front of you to meet your eyes as he spoke to you in a sincere and earnest voice. “Y/N, I was drunk when I said all that shit back there. I didn’t mean them. I didn’t mean to hurt you with my callous words, and I feel awful that you had to hear them from me. You trusted me. You sought comfort from me. I wasn’t thinking like a normal person when those things came out of my mouth.” 

“That doesn’t mean they weren’t true,” you replied with quiet resignation. It was the acceptance in your face that seemed to have caused Toji’s heartbroken gaze. “It’s okay, Toji. I think, when you said all those things, it actually made me realize some aspects of our relationship that had to be addressed. It made me more self-aware and it opened my eyes on the bigger picture.” You touched his hand, giving it a comforting squeeze as you mustered the courage to speak your next words. “It’s for the best that we part ways. It’s not fair to me to become a placeholder for your wife the same way it isn’t fair to you to have to deal with my ex-husband always being present in my life. Our unresolved feelings won’t really be resolved by being together.”

“Y/N…” Toji’s voice hinted at his vulnerable emotions, though he restrained himself from showing it fully. And you didn’t miss the apologetic look he had presented to you. “Despite all that, I hope you know that I’d been true to you. I do love you and will always love you. I’ll always be someone you can rely on, someone you can seek comfort from, someone you can turn to when you need help…” 

Damn it. Why did he have to make it sound like an actual break up? Now, it tugged at your heartstrings and hit you in a place it shouldn’t have. You weren’t good at these things and it certainly was your first time dealing with such a mature and mutual separation, but wasn’t that a good thing? No further drama was to happen, leaving a stark comparison to your separation with Satoru. While this one didn’t hurt as much, it still brought a hollow feeling in your chest. 

“Same for me,” you agreed, displaying a weak smile. “You’ll always have a spot in my heart, Toji. I’ll always be grateful that I met you.” 

Sometimes, two people didn’t need to be together to love each other. Friendships could still thrive between ex-lovers, and that was why closure was so important. It not only closed a certain chapter of your life in a healthy way, but also allowed you to heal and open yourselves to a new beginning without any bitterness left behind. 

It shouldn’t be considered bad to remain friends with an ex. It also shouldn’t be bad to give a parting kiss from said ex, right? 

You weren’t the one who initiated it, after all. It was Toji’s hand that gently stroked your cheek. It was him, who leaned forward and pressed his lips onto yours. It wasn’t forceful, but neither was it passionate. It was simply a tender kiss of goodbye, feeling the warmth of each other’s lips for one last time before you two would transition from being lovers to friends. What you didn’t understand from this supposedly bittersweet moment was the faint tears that somehow managed to escape your eyes, perhaps because you knew that once Toji left, you would be alone again. 

You had no one by your side to love you, cherish you, choose you, and offer their entire world for you. You were meant to live this cruel world all by yourself. 

As he pulled away, he pressed his forehead against yours. “Please learn to love yourself before anyone else, Y/N. It’s what you need and what you deserve.” 

That night, while you were getting your MRI, your mind kept flying to the possibilities of a future without having anyone by your side. Any normal person would tell you to focus on loving yourself first, as Toji did recently, focusing on what matters most, and ridding yourself of the toxic things that hinder you from moving forward with your life. Things weren’t as easy as they sounded. Besides, it was different being on the receiving end of the said advice. How could you do those things when the primary cause of your pain was someone whose life would always be linked to yours forever? 

Based on the result of your MRI scans, your doctor recommended that you undergo elbow arthroscopy. It was just a minimally invasive procedure compared to open surgeries, but considering how much of an overthinker your dad was when it came to your health, he insisted on your confinement at the hospital until you had been completely cleared of any other issues. He really placed a big deal on your condition and emphasized to the doctors that they make sure nothing was missed. It could have been worse; you could have had a broken hip or a fractured leg, but at least you only had a dislocated elbow. Nothing that couldn’t be easily corrected by surgery and physical therapy. 

The decision was for you to stay there for two days, and on your first night, a crying Sachiro ran inside your private room because his ‘mama has a boo boo’. Gen said he was picked up from daycare and dropped off at the hospital because the poor kid was looking for you. She didn’t mention who dropped your son off to you, but you could tell it was Satoru. You could sense it by the glances she exchanged with Ian after you asked how Sachiro came to the hospital. 

So, in that case, Satoru must have found out about your little incident and didn’t care enough to see you. Did he not even have an ounce of care anymore? Or was it Gen who stopped him from seeing you? 

“Did you ask him to leave?” you confronted Gen in a mellow voice, rubbing Sachiro’s back as he snuggled into you on the hospital bed. 

Your sister knew exactly which man you were referring to, and she denied having done such. “No, I didn’t even talk to him. He took Sachi here and left.” 

You didn’t know why you looked at Ian to confirm the truth of his wife’s words, but hurt yourself upon seeing his bowed head. It was an apologetic expression that did signify your ex-husband’s blatant act of ignoring you. To hear about your near-death experience and simply leave without even checking on you should be your wake-up call. He didn’t care anymore. No, why should he care? He had Akemi. His only responsibility with you was to be a supportive father to your son. 

Why did the pain in your heart feel far more agonizing than the discomfort on your dislocated elbow?

If anything, you wanted to ask for the strongest anesthetic they could offer to numb your pain. You were desperate to have anything even if they had to put you into an eternal sleep. That would have been much easier to deal with than feeling disregarded by a person you supposedly had moved on from. Satoru did nothing wrong here. It was you who had that expectation, only to disappoint yourself when things didn’t happen as you imagined. 

And just when you thought things would get better as long as you ignore your torturous thoughts, it didn’t help that being in the hospital kept giving you flashbacks of the time you were in this exact room, hearing Satoru crying helplessly from outside and begging for you not to terminate his child. What comes around certainly goes back around. Or worse. 

Such depressive thoughts had you occupied throughout your stay there, and your unusual placidness alarmed the nurses instead of being assured that you were doing well. You heard your doctors telling your father and sister to always keep a close eye on you as the incident may not seem serious, but the trauma would undoubtedly be present somewhere and somehow. Were they aware? Of your intrusive thoughts of wanting to hurt yourself? 

The elbow arthroscopy was successful and by the second day, you were free to go home. You were placed on certain medications to help with the swelling and the pain, and while you were walking around the hospital with a listless mind, you happened to pass by the Obstetrics and Gynecology Department. What a deja vu it was, remembering the time you had seen Satoru there waiting outside for Sera. Back then, it was one of the climactic events in your life that led to a domino effect on the downfall of your marriage. Not that you were reminiscing, but it did remind you that Shoko was probably there in her consultation room and it would be nice to talk to a friend who had witnessed the wild history of your marriage. 

You asked Gen to wait for you in the car while you headed to Ieiri’s consultation room, assuring your visibly worried sister that everything was fine and that you wouldn’t take too long. You had to give Gen some slack, because despite the strains in your relationship as sisters, she was still always there for you. At the end of the day, she was family. 

Shoko, on the other hand, was the next closest thing you had for a sister. She welcomed you inside her room in a very worried embrace, telling you that if she had known about the incident, she would have gone straight to your hospital room on your first day, but you told her not to worry about it and understood that being in the medical field already had her schedule tight. 

“Well, I guess it’s perfect that you’re here, too.” Shoko smiled warmly, sitting behind her desk. She had exciting news to offer, it seemed. “I just wanna say that… of course, I’ll still be sending you a formal invitation and everything. I actually have a few gifts along with it.” 

You shared her enthusiasm. “Hmm… is it what I think it is?” 

The wedding. The most eventful day of her life would be arriving soon and you were the first one to hear it. 

“Yes!” she answered, with the utmost joy coruscating from her eyes. “I want you to be my maid-of-honor, Y/N. I’d be extremely happy if you could make it. I know you just got into an accident, but it won’t be until two months, so—”

“Hey, it’s okay.” You eased her worries by chuckling. “I’m completely fine, of course I’ll be there. I can’t miss it.” 

Shoko was grateful to hear your answer, relieved even, because by asking you to be her maid-of-honor, you should already understand who Suguru’s best man would be. That was a touchy subject for you and she was keenly aware of it, but you didn’t want her to worry. You didn’t want your relationship with your ex-husband to have a negative impact on the relationship of all the other people surrounding the both of you. It was already bad enough that Shoko and Suguru almost called off their engagement after they fought over their morals as you and Satoru’s friends, and you were glad that they somehow made things work. They somehow set aside their disagreements and ultimately chose their love over anything else. 

Their love was beautiful, and while that wasn’t something you could easily have, it was something you deeply admired. 

“Where are you guys planning to hold your wedding?” you asked, steering the conversation away from any mention of your ex-husband. “Here or overseas?” 

She delighted you with her answer, sounding as if this was the perfect wedding she had always dreamed of. “It’s an intimate wedding on the lakeside. Suguru chose the location, actually, since he wanted our wedding to have the view of Mount Fuji.” 

“That’s perfect,” you said with wide eyes. “Lake Kawaguchiko?” 

“Yep. That’s exactly where it’d be.” She smiled with her eyes. “You know this resort… Hoshinoya Fuji? We already booked the place, and we have a luxury cabin for friends and families to stay at.” 

You had been there before, but you were too young to remember. All you knew was that it was a high-end resort that had the best panoramic views of Lake Kawaguchiko and Mount Fuji. The hotel owner was also a close friend of the Gojou family, so that was probably why they were able to rent the entire place for the wedding, especially at a peak season for tourists. 

Since the fall season was arriving, you could only imagine the stunning views of the autumn foliage there. It offered the perfect weather, too. It wouldn’t be as hot as summer, nor as freezing as winter. Surely, it would be nice to do some nature walks and stargazing, maybe ride a boat or bathe in a hot spring. You looked forward to it, except for the fact that your ex-husband would also be there. 

And just what a perfect timing it was, because as Shoko sorted through her patients' medical records above her desk, a file slipped from the pile, revealing the name of your very friend, Akemi. 

“Oh,” Shoko murmured apologetically as she retrieved the record, not wanting to ruin the mood of your conversation. “She, uh, came by a few days ago... with Gojou.”

You didn’t need to ask. You didn’t need to hear any further detail. Akemi’s visit likely revolved around her desire to conceive, as she wouldn’t have visited Shoko otherwise. Why? If it were simply to monitor her polycystic ovary, why did she choose Shoko instead of her own gynecologist? Thinking of how your ex-husband and best friend were attempting to start a family together left your heart shattered in unimaginable pieces, stirring up painful memories of your pathetic marriage with Satoru and reopening old wounds you thought had already healed from. Wasn’t it ironic that a couple of years ago, you were crying over the same situation with Sera? 

You couldn’t stand this feeling anymore. You thought you had already freed yourself from the pain of loving him, yet here you were suffering from the same heartbreak over and over and over again. Tears threatened to spill, but you held them back, the ache in your chest too raw to confront just yet. 

“It’s funny.” Although you displayed an outward smile, the sadness in your voice reflected your otherwise inward thoughts. You didn’t know why you said that. You were just too… too emotional. Almost like you couldn’t breathe. “He was never this passionate with me. They seem so in love.” 

Ieiri’s eyes carried sisterly concern in them. “Y/N, it’s not really what you think.” 

Was it? You weren’t sure what to feel anymore. You certainly weren't there to hear it anymore, either. Satoru chose her, just like what you wanted for him to do. Just like what you asked him to do. He had moved on, he had found someone who would love him for who he was, he had chosen the woman he would share the rest of his future with. Call yourself ridiculous for even feeling hurt about it, because you had no right to be and you definitely chose this. Either you own up to it, or you cry about it for the rest of your life. 

Both choices had no happy endings. 

— —

When Satoru learned about your incident in the woods, he thought he was going to lose his mind. 

Was it out of love that he swiftly left the office in the middle of a meeting just to get to where you were? 

He still had to pick up Sachiro from daycare, and he felt bad telling his son on the way to the hospital that his mother was hurt. It actually gave Satoru a hard time explaining to the 3-year old that they had to go to the hospital because his mommy was there and that she had an unfortunate encounter while riding a horse. 

“Dada, is… is mama okay?” Sachiro pouted with wide, tearful eyes as he clung to his father’s hand. “Sachi wants to go to mama!” 

“She’ll be okay, Sachi.” Gojou carried his son and soothed him as they went inside the hospital, searching for you. “Mommy’s strong, remember?” 

Was it out of love that he wanted to be the person that brought your son to you when you most needed him? 

According to the nurse, your room was on the seventh floor, but when he got there, your room was empty. It was Ian who told him that you went up the rooftop garden to get some fresh air, insisting that if Satoru wanted to go and talk to you, that it was best to leave Sachiro with them. 

And so he did. He ran hastily, almost out of breath, until he reached the rooftop, scanning every face within the vicinity until his tired blue eyes finally landed on you. 

Satoru laughed in disbelief. He scoffed bitterly, with each breath full of disgust. The tips of his fingers felt cold, while his breathing grew thin and ragged. He could feel his stomach clenching at the humiliation of seeing you engaged in an intimate make-out session with Toji Zen’in. 

How sickeningly sweet. 

At that point, he was laughing at his own expense, ignoring the elderly lady who looked at him like he was a crazy person. He stood there frozen for a few minutes, watching you kiss another man before it finally woke him up from reality. 

It was out of love that he let you go. 

You see? This was where his attachment to you would lead him. It was pure and unreasonable selfishness, but he would gain nothing at all from even seeing you. He didn’t need to care for you at all, no. You had Toji. You seemed to be goddamn happy with your life with Toji. And what a romantic fucking moment that was, too. 

Satoru couldn’t think straight when he hurriedly left the hospital and got inside his car. He desperately wanted to forget the painful image of you locking lips with somebody else. How? How would he? Fuck! He was mad, mad at himself for choosing to come to your aid like he still had any role in your life. He was disgusted at himself for ignoring Akemi’s calls after promising her a movie date after work. He couldn’t believe he had her waiting all by herself in that cinema, waiting for him to come while he was stupidly running around the hospital to see his ex-wife. 

You chose Toji, then you better be happy. Satoru hoped you were happy, and that wish came from a place of genuineness. He genuinely hoped the best for you. Because for him, it was time to fully let go and stop himself from trying to be the superhero whenever you were in danger. You weren’t his wife anymore. 

So, was it out of love that he headed straight to Akemi’s apartment that night with a bouquet of red roses? 

She didn’t know what happened nor was she given the full detail as to why he unintentionally stood her up on their date night. He had just briefly explained that he had to drop Sachiro off to you at a hospital because you got into a small accident. Akemi, being your friend, got immediately worried upon hearing the situation and asked if Satoru was able to check on you. 

He said no. He said Toji was there. He said he left as soon as dropped Sachiro off. 

And in an effort to apologize for not paying attention to the current woman in his life, Satoru pulled Akemi in a tight embrace. He held her in her arms, drunk from the sweet and citrusy notes of her perfume, before pulling away to kiss her. He kissed her with the same passion as you did with Toji. Perhaps even more, even better. He completely devoured her lips, with a hand on her cheek and the other on her waist. The taste of her tongue was sweet like strawberries, while her lips were red like cherries. 

This woman was all he needed. 

But was this love? He didn’t know. It was too soon to tell, too early to answer, too hasty to even consider. 

— —

The current situation you were in reminded you of your younger self after your mother had died. It was the same before; you never left the house, often locking yourself in your room, shutting yourself off from the world, and drowning yourself with the pain and loneliness of losing somebody important. 

Sure, no one really died for you to be acting this way right now, but the feeling was still the same. Was this really a comeuppance to all of your wrongdoings before? But just how terrible were you of a person to be hit by this unbelievable truckload of sorrow? You might as well spur on the physical pains of your angina again if this torment continued. Otherwise, how else do you avoid it? 

You were being a terrible mother, too. You were too engrossed by your own misery that you couldn’t even properly take care of Sachiro. He didn’t deserve to have an incompetent and irresponsible mother like you. He deserves someone better, someone like Akemi, who not only has all the motherly traits a woman should have, but also the physical and mental capacity of being a true, strong woman. 

Sachiro was bound to have that, anyway. Now that his father was planning his lifelong journey with another woman, and now that he was trying to build a happy family with her, you were no longer needed in the picture. There was no need for you. 

How many more times would you tell that you have accepted it? 

Because, god be damned, you knew you couldn’t. You knew you were lying to yourself when you said everything was fine, lying to Satoru when you told him you didn’t need him in your life anymore, lying to Toji for telling him that you wanted to marry him, lying to Akemi that you didn’t care if she was seeing your ex-husband, and lying to Sachiro when you promised to him that you would never leave his side. You were a liar. A terrible liar. A pitiful, terrible liar. 

How would you tell the universe that you couldn’t take it anymore? That, for once, you wanted to be showered by happiness and all the good things in life? 

Sera was right. Not everyone could have it all. There were people of lesser fortune who weren’t blessed to live a lavish life like you, yet still work hard to achieve what they want. Why couldn't you achieve your own happiness without blaming it on the universe? If this was simply a lesson, then weren’t you the top student at this rate? 

God. God, help me. You really didn’t know how to deal with this life anymore. You weren’t sure how to proceed. You couldn’t rely on anything other than the bottle of alcohol on your hand—what was once full was now half empty after you took another swig. This was your second bottle already, wasn’t it? Or third? 

You got up from the floor and failed to walk in a straight line as you made your way towards the balcony. Your steps were unsteady, wavering like a leaf caught in a gentle breeze. With each attempt to move forward, your body swayed from side to side, struggling to maintain balance. You almost lost grip of the bottle you were holding. No, it did, in fact, slip from your hand and ended up crashing into the floor. Shards of glass lay across the ground, ready to pierce the soles of your feet to mirror the same physical pain your heart was experiencing. 

“Stop,” you muttered under your breath, begging for your chest to stop hurting. But it only worsened, and your antidote to that was to wash it down with even more liquor. No matter how expensive it was, you didn’t even like the taste of alcohol. You hated the sting on your throat whenever you drank it. You despised the bitterness it left on your tongue. However, it did great at numbing your emotions. 

It just felt wrong in many ways that you were seeing Satoru’s face whenever you closed your eyes. You could see his smile, his loving eyes, his beautiful lips. You missed his embrace, his kiss, his touch. You missed hearing his I love you’s. Him. You missed him. You yearned for him. Three goddamn years, and you were still undeniably in love with him. 

“Satoru…” you cried, sitting on the floor. Each breath made it harder and harder for you to catch as tears continued to stream down your face. You were tired of pretending, denying that you no longer had feelings for him when you knew deep down that you would always choose him. “S-Satoru… come back to me, please.”

Was it him coming inside your room? Or was it your vision making a fool out of you? 

“Baby, what are you doing?” Satoru’s expression was engulfed in immense worry as he knelt down and reached out to you, touching your cheek and looking at your eyes somberly. “Don’t do this yourself, Y/N.” 

Your head hung low, your gaze unfocused and glazed, as you fought to keep your eyes on the path ahead. You had to reach him. You wanted to touch him, hug him. And despite your best efforts, your movements were disjointed and erratic, betraying the effects of the alcohol coursing through your veins.

“Y/N, that’s enough.” Gen had to use force just to be able to snatch the bottle away from you, forcing you to wake up to the reality where Satoru no longer existed to be there for you. It was her who came rushing inside your room in the middle of the night. The bottle of liquor was now spilled all over the floor. The same could be described with your emotions. “Get it together. You haven’t been acting like yourself lately!”

You couldn’t, even if you wanted to. You were in delirium after having dealt with all the terrible things the world had thrown at you. If you couldn’t drown yourself in alcohol, how else would you have been able to numb the pain? How else would you have been able to… forget? 

As much as your sister tried to hide the obvious sympathy in her voice, even your drunken mind could recognize it. “We all know you’re going down the depression lane again, but never to this extent.” Her voice cracked in the middle of her sentence, cradling you into her arms as a tear fell down her face. The Gen who would usually lecture you, was now holding you in her arms as her only baby sister. “Stop this, Y/N, please. Don’t ruin your life the second time. I-It’s hurting me. It’s hurting Dad. Do you… do you realize what Sachiro’s gonna think of you when he sees you like this?” 

“Gen…” Muffled sobs unwillingly came out of you, leaving you with such excruciating pain in the chest, so much so that it didn’t even feel like you had done surgery to fix your (quite literally) broken heart.  “I w-want him back,” you continued to cry, “I want my husband back. I want to be with h-him, Gen.” 

“Y/N.”

“Where’s S-Satoru…? D-Did he leave? Please take me to him—”

“Y/N, listen to me.” She gently cupped your cheeks, forcing you to look at her pained eyes. “You’re intoxicated. He was never here, and he’d never come for you. You have to let it go.” 

“But—”

“He’s not good for you. He never will be.”

— —

It had been two weeks since Satoru last heard about you. Miwa was the one who updated him that you had already returned to your family’s mansion, letting him know that you were okay and that you were recovering well. Frankly, Satoru was starting to get annoyed at the fact that his secretary was still giving him updates about you. What did he care? He wasn’t your husband anymore. 

Besides, Toji was probably visiting you every day, so why did he have to worry about you? If there was anyone he should be worried about, it was Akemi. She had been experiencing terrible pelvic cramps lately, which needed to be given serious attention, but you would never see her being dramatic about it. The only thing she needed was for Gojou to accompany her visits to the OB-GYN, and even then, she never showered herself in self-pity. She carried herself like an independent woman, and that was exactly what Satoru needed in his life right now. 

He had a son to raise. He had a company to run. It wasn’t the perfect time to commit himself to someone lawfully. Heck, he didn’t even believe in marriage anymore. He realized that two people could still love each other without getting married. As long as Akemi didn’t pressure him about such things, he was fine with having her around. She didn’t ask for anything much, anyway. 

As for you, well… 

“What are you planning with that mansion you gifted Y/N?” asked Nanami, seated on the couch inside Satoru’s office, casually reading a newspaper. “Do you even remember that?” 

He certainly did. “What about it?” he questioned, idly toying with a pen on his desk. “It’s her property now. She can sell it if she wants.”

Better yet, you should let Sachiro inherit the property someday. His son was already set for a life of privilege having wealthy parents on both sides, but wouldn’t the mansion be a substantial addition to his assets in the future? Satoru couldn’t help but envision the kind of man his son would grow up into. He hoped Sachiro would not inherit his father's immaturity and pettiness but would embody the kindness and altruism of his mother. From a business perspective, however, Satoru planned to groom his son to be a leader, as he was the sole heir to the Gojou Group. Additionally, he would also inherit half of Creston and the entirety of Hearte. No wonder Sachiro was recently listed as the wealthiest kid by Forbes Japan. He even beat Megumi Zen’in from the list even though the teenager was the heir of the Zen’in business empire. 

These were the thoughts that should consume Satoru—the future, not the past. His kid, not you. And he was right about doing so, because when he came home to his penthouse, he was told that he had a visitor. 

A visitor on a Wednesday afternoon? 

Your brother-in-law, the esteemed prosecutor who sent his evil stepmother to jail, appeared on his front door, carrying Sachiro in his arms. It was hard to tell what type of emotions were visible on the man’s face, but he definitely didn’t bring any good news. 

“Ian?” Satoru promptly made way for the man to come in, ushering him into the penthouse and allowing him to set Sachiro down. The young boy was quick to dart off to his playroom, leaving the two men in an uncomfortable silence. “What’s going on? Weekends are usually my schedule with Sachi.” 

Ian cleared his throat, a hand on his pocket. “Do you mind looking after Sachiro for the time being?” 

By saying ‘for the time being’, it seemed like Ian wanted to actually say ‘until further notice.’ But that confused Satoru even more, because what was happening for the man to come here and ask him to let Sachiro stay beyond the agreed schedule with his father? He couldn’t read through Ian’s expression and it was making him uneasy. 

“I can, but… why so suddenly?” Gojou asked, glancing at his oblivious son. 

“It’s Y/N’s idea, Gen doesn’t know about it.” Ian released an awkward chuckle. “You know how my wife is.” 

Gen would absolutely hate it, Satoru was aware for sure. Though the questions lingered in his mind. “Why would Y/N want Sachi to stay with me? Where’s she?” 

Was it him or was Ian having a hard time explaining the situation? It felt like he was walking on eggshells, deciding between what had to be said and what shouldn’t. He was careful with his words when he spoke again, “Y/N flew to Monaco this morning and will be back when she’s ready. She says Sachiro should spend all of his time with you while she’s gone.” 

Monaco? Why would you be there?

Confusion bathed Satoru’s eyes. “Is it for a fashion event or something?” 

“No, she’s just…” Ian struggled heavily. “Well, to sum it up, she has to go there to sort some things out. It’s a personal thing, but she really needs this time for herself and we think it’s the best for her right now. I don’t know how long she’s gonna stay there or when she’ll be back, but I hope you understand what I’m trying to say here.”

No, he didn’t. Satoru found it difficult to fathom his ex-brother-in-law’s words, seeing as he had no general idea of what was truly going on. But if you were flying to Monaco, surely Toji wouldn’t allow you to go there all by yourself? 

Ahh. It made sense now. I see what’s happening here. 

Satoru’s lips curled into sarcasm. You would be vacationing with the love of your life. Is that what it was? Planning your halted wedding? Choosing wedding gowns? Looking for venues? There was no way you would be flying to Monaco alone, especially without Sachiro around when you two had been inseparable since his birth. 

“What kinda mother is she?” Satoru muttered in disgust, unaware that Ian had overheard him. But Ian had heard loud and clear. How could you leave your son behind like this? Couldn’t you face your ex-husband to discuss it, instead of just dropping Sachiro off as if he were some unwanted toy?

“Hold it right there,” Ian interjected, becoming defensive at the accusation. “You have no idea what she’s going through.”

How would he know? No one was telling him shit. No one was giving him details, so did they expect him to understand things and accept them as they were? Did they do the same thing to Satoru when he was at the verge of losing his sanity asking everyone for forgiveness over and over? 

“I've never taken sides between you two, Satoru, you know that,” Ian continued, trying to maintain a calm demeanor and speak with clear judgment, “But one thing I’m not gonna let you do is call Y/N a bad mother.”

Satoru’s chest tightened at Ian's words, a mixture of guilt and frustration bubbling up inside him. He knew he shouldn’t have spoken out of turn, but the pain and resentment were too raw to contain. It felt like you were abandoning him and your child, like you were off to a new chapter in your life again, and leaving everything behind. Perhaps this was his trauma from the New York thing crawling back at him, but it definitely reminded him of the day you had abandoned him. For three fucking years. How long would it take you to return now? 

Why do you keep doing this? He was sick of it. You kept running away instead of talking to him. He gets it, people change, circumstances change, but couldn’t you at least have the decency to talk to him about it? Was it wrong for him to wish you’d handled this differently? To wish that you’d talked to him, involved him in the decision-making process, instead of just making this unilateral decision and leaving him to pick up the pieces? 

Satoru took a moment, collecting his thoughts before continuing. “It’s fine, I’ll take care of Sachi,” he reassured, “I’ll take some time off work and have ‘Kemi help me out.” 

He looked back at Ian, his eyes pleading for further details, for answers, for some semblance of clarity in the midst of this emotional turmoil.

Yet none of it was given. 

And so, would it still be wrong to assume that he could now completely forget about you? That this opportunity to be with Sachiro would allow him a chance to share it with someone else? If you spent three years of your life playing house in New York with Toji, would it still be unfair for Satoru to do the same with Akemi?