#alina x alone

[bones-for-sure]

Firebird's Affect on Mal

Mal with bird-like traits/animalistic behaviour.

OKAY, so Mal is the Firebird, right? And I know that the Firebird was never actually a bird, but, and hear me out here. WHAT IF, Mal had bird-like tendencies or even just more animalistic traits. Just picture Mal preening and puffing out his chest when someone compliments him, or specifically his tracking. (subtly, but noticeable if you're looking at him). Alina gets sick once when they were kids, and Mal spends a whole day running back and forth from her room gathering blankets and pillows and food and water until Alina stops him (buried in a mound of the aforementioned blankets and pillows). Or Mal in the military being oddly aggressive and territorial because of the trauma from being bullied in the orphanage, and becoming weirdly testy and hostile towards people who approach his "area".

And of course, because I am, as always, ridden with a severe case of Malkolai brainrot, so: Mal wearing bits of colour and spending ages in front of a mirror "preening" his appearance (essentially dressing up pretty and dolling himself up) before going to meet Nikolai. Mal constantly seeking Nikolai's attention by hovering (or, as Zoya and Alina dubbed it, "fluttering") about the golden King. Mal making a cooing/trilling noise when he's content, discovered when he and Nikolai were laying in bed and Nikolai started running and hand through his hair at the base of his head, which led to a very shocked silence, embarrassed blushing, frantic denials, and a fair amount of teasing (and yes, Nikolai does take full advantage of this discovery and now his hand is almost always on the back of his pet tracker's neck, much to the pleasure embarrassment of Mal). Mal extending his territorial and protective behaviour to Nikolai almost as soon as he met him, much to both parties' confusion and Alina's delight.

[kylosroboarm]

Ok this isn’t Star Wars related, but I started watching Shadow and Bone and for anyone who’s read the books, am I gunna be totally depressed by endgame ships?

Cuz these bitches both told each other they’re not alone and I’ve already been through that shit with Reylo before and my heart just can’t take it again 😂

[chuulyssa]

୨・──── ALL I WANT IS LOVE THAT LASTS, IS ALL I WANT TOO MUCH TO ASK ? ────・୧

pairing ⸺ satoru gojo x reader

teaser ⸺ trying to mend your broken bond with gojo satoru becomes difficult at the entrance of a rival, and you are torn between love that aches and love that heals. will satoru be able to win you back in time — or will the scars of yesterday refuse to tie you to a love that was never meant to be?

SECOND IN ARRANGED. [GOJO SATORU X READER]

READ PART I HERE

content ⸺ fluff, mostly f!reader, heavy angst, misunderstandings, mutual pining, slowburn, hurt/comfort, angst with happy ending, love triangle, shitty choices, implied abuse, jealousy, implied torture, implied slavery, mentions of grape, death, massacre, murder, royal!au, magic!au, historic!au

count ⸺ 22k + 2k

author’s note ⸺ so this marks the end of the series with gojo! watch out for ones with other characters <3 this came out way later than i had expected it to, oof. sorry to keep all of you waiting! for some reason tumblr is not letting me post the whole thing, so if you want to read what happens after 22k words, i’m leaving the ao3 and wattpad links as well.

🎧 ao3 wattpad

Three years had passed since that incident. You were now twenty years old, working a respectable job at Jujutsu High as a teacher. It was nice to utilize the knowledge you had gained back at the School of Royalty. Jujutsu High, as a school, was similar to the one you used to attend as a child, except the children here were far more humble.

You preferred this over anything else though. You wouldn’t want to spend the rest of your time around spoiled kids who had never heard the word ‘no’ in their lives.

It wasn’t necessarily the kids of the nobility that you despised, but rather the ideologies they carried with them. You still cringed remembering Kamo Alina babble about traditions “back at her kingdom”. Perhaps you had hatred against all noble clans, except your own, the Gojo clan, of course. The rest seemed too hollow and self-absorbed, and their kids seemed either too coddled or too burdened.

You were in charge of the first years at the school. You had few students, but they were all the best ones you could ask for: Maki Zenin, Toge Inumaki and Panda.

Maki was from the Zenin clan, whom you knew to be cunning and sly. She was very different from what the papers said about her lineage though — Maki had a knack for being good at fighting and war skills, whereas her clan was famous for running with their tails in between their legs from their opponents. You had caught the little girl staring at you more than once during your training sessions with Utahime. It was nice to have her watch; perhaps it was best that way for her to learn the things you did as well.

Toge was from the Inumaki clan, and used to speak in only food ingredients to not accidentally curse those around him. And finally, Panda was the ‘son’ of Principal Yaga, and a cursed corpse.

Here, you were glad you weren’t in charge of shaping heirs of stupid clans in a factory. Rather, you were to train and enhance those who were willing to learn. And in this humble, quiet school, you had found something even the nobility, who looked down upon the place as often as they could, could never offer to you: peace.

Things back at home… weren’t the best. Satoru was almost always away for ‘missions’ with Suguru, and it had been a long time since the two of you had even seen each other, let alone talk. You couldn’t recall the last time you both even sat together in the same room alone. He never told you where he was going, and you never asked — what was the point after all? He wouldn’t say even if you screamed at the top of your voice.

His mother had quite a few times tried to fix the situation between you two, but it never worked. Satoru had developed a strained relationship with his mother as well. After all, she had a hand in keeping the secret of your engagement from him, so how could he trust her again? Every time she tried to help, the gap between the entire family seemed to widen even more. It didn’t help that his father had stopped talking completely to his mother as well. There were rumours around the clan that the leaders were sleeping in separate rooms after that incident with the Kamo clan. You would have felt bad for her, if you didn’t feel worse for yourself.

Shoko had decided to pursue her medical education in a different kingdom. There was a void from where she had left, and although you were happy for her that she was able to live her dreams, the emptiness you felt whenever you reread your old letters made you feel sorry for yourself.

Utahime had been the only one to stay back with you. When you told her about your plans to teach at Jujutsu High, she immediately dropped her own things and joined the same school. You would often feel guilty for leading her to a different path than she had originally intended, but she would constantly reassure you that she would never have it any other way. At the school, the two of you would fool around with each other a lot, but the hollow space left by the old memories of the others would always nag at your brain the second you were by yourself.

Dinnertime at the table became a quiet affair. Oftentimes, while playing with the food on your plate, you missed the old banters between Satoru and his father. It almost felt like a distant memory from a whole other timeline, as if those little moments never happened at all. You usually ate your dinner alone in your room now, since it wasn’t worth coming all the way to the dining room anymore. Satoru’s father ate out every day, and his mother used to be the only one to eat at the table. If it weren’t for her, you wondered if you would be eating at all.

This night seemed like any other night when you had decided to eat at the table. Yet you couldn’t look up at your mother’s face and into her eyes. She looked paler than ever as if she was sick. Her eyes seemed hollow and dark, and if it weren’t for the tight grip she had on her chopsticks, you would have wondered if she had any strength in her left at all. After finishing your food quietly, you set your chopsticks down, and were about to stand up to bow and leave, when she stopped you.

“Stay,” she said this one word softly, and it took everything in you not to collapse in her arms at the sound of her weak voice. She didn’t look at you directly, but rather somewhere on the table, and she looked as if she was lost in thought, though you knew she had become this way ever since that night.

You sat back down, and stared at her as her grip on her chopsticks tightened ever so slightly. She opened a quivering lip to speak. “My son... my Satoru... He’s never been this upset… at me.”

You swallowed. He had never been this upset at you either. He had never been upset at all. You used to wonder if Satoru Gojo even had the word ‘upset’ in his dictionary. And now that was all you could see.

“I just hope…” she trembled slightly, “... that you can find it in your hearts to… to forgive me.” She looked up, and you looked away, for you knew the sight in front of you wouldn’t let you breathe another moment. You knew she was holding back tears. You were too.

“There is nothing to forgive,” you croaked out, hoping what you were saying was making sense. “I just wonder if this is worth going about if he isn’t happy with it.”

“It’s not, you’re right,” she murmured, looking back down to her plate. “I was a princess. I was told I could never be wrong. Yet here I am, hoping I am not, even though every cell of my body tells me I am.” Then she looked right into your eyes, and something in your heart broke again at her state. “Would you want to marry someone who was not him?”

You stopped. No. No, of course not. No, you would never, ever even dream of marrying someone that wasn’t him. But what could you do now? What could be done? If he did not want it, then how could you? How could you do something like this to him against his will? So slowly, you nodded. “Perhaps I could think about it. But not now.”

“I understand. Goodnight to you.”

“Goodnight, mother.”

──── ୨ৎ ────

“Good morning, Miss!”

“Good morning, Miss.”

“Salmon.”

“Yes, yes, good morning to all of you. Hurry up now, the first class starts in 15 minutes,” you said swiftly, waving at the kids. You turned to Utahime, who was staring at the parents dropping their kids off to catch some hot single dad she, or rather you, could have a chance with. “What class do you have first, Miss Transfiguration?”

“The annoying third-years,” she grumbled. “How about you, Miss Charms?”

“My first years. I’m charmed.”

“Sure, you are.”

You watched the carriage Maki had stepped out of. It was rather modest for someone of Zenin lineage. But what really caught Utahime’s attention wasn’t the car — it was the man who stepped out to escort Maki.

He was tall, with dyed blond hair that shimmered under the morning light, and striking brown eyes. Utahime froze.

“Wow.”

“What?”

“Wow. Is that… him?” she whispered, gripping your arm.

“Him?” you asked.

“The guy! From years ago!” she hissed as if that explained everything.

You raised an eyebrow, watching as the man exchanged a brief word with Maki before returning to his carriage. “Iori, you’re not making any sense.”

Utahime pulled out her wand and immediately began tapping it on her temple at a rapid pace. “Don’t you remember when those exchange students introduced themselves? In the hall? That cactus transfiguration kid? This is him. Look.”

A floating picture hovered in your hands. It was slightly blurry, moving up and down serenely, but you could make out the younger version of the man fixing his carriage in front of the school gates clearly. You blinked at the picture, then at Utahime.

“You… remember him enough to produce this complicated magic?” you asked, though you didn’t know whether to be amused or alarmed.

Utahime shrugged unapologetically. “You gotta do what you gotta do.”

You sighed, shaking your head in disbelief. “‘hime, you’re a stalker.”

She grinned, utterly unbothered. “A resourceful stalker, I’d say. Anyway, don’t you think he’s—”

“Don’t say it,” you warned, already seeing where this was going.

“—handsome?” she finished, her grin widening mischievously.

You groaned, covering your face. “Utahime, he’s Maki’s guardian. You make it sound like I’m ready to adopt her or something. That’s weird.”

She waved off your protest, nudging you playfully. “Come on, he’s single. Uh, probably. And if he’s not, well, that’s just unfortunate for him.”

“Why are we even talking about this?” you muttered.

“Because,” she said with mock seriousness, “you’ve been single for far too long, and this is an opportunity. So…” She leaned closer. “Why don’t you try flirting with him?”

You stared at her like she’d grown another head. “Preposterous. Absolutely not.”

“Why not?” she teased, clearly enjoying your discomfort.

You glanced at the man who was now pulling away in the carriage looking like a war hero, and then back at Utahime. “Because I don’t feel like dying today. You know, the Zenin clan and all of that?”

She laughed, throwing an arm around your shoulders as you both headed back inside. “Suit yourself, but just know — I’m rooting for you!”

“Utahime,” you sighed, “you’re impossible.”

But her laughter was infectious, and you couldn’t help it.

You smiled.

──── ୨ৎ ────

The staffroom was unusually quiet, save for the faint scratch of your quill against parchment as you graded the first-years’ essays. Utahime, however, was anything but quiet. She had perched herself on the edge of your desk, her hands gripping the back of your chair as she swung it gently back and forth.

“Flirt with him,” she said.

“No,” you replied flatly, not looking up from the parchment.

“Come on, just a little?” she coaxed, leaning over your shoulder and nearly smudging the ink you’d just scrawled across a particularly poor attempt at a levitation charm essay.

You leaned back slightly, giving her a deadpan look. “Utahime, I am trying to work.”

“And I am trying to help you!” she shot back, as if her nagging about your love life was an act of selfless charity.

You sighed, putting down the quill and crossing your arms. “For the last time, I am not flirting with Maki’s guardian. That’s weird.”

“It’s not weird. It’s romantic,” she argued, dragging out the last word like it was a persuasive spell. “You’re single. He’s single—”

“We don’t know that he’s single,” you interjected, but Utahime waved you off.

“Semantics,” she said. “The point is, he’s clearly into you. Did you not see the way he looked at you yesterday?”

“The reason he even looked at me was because you shoved me in front of him like a sacrificial lamb,” you retorted.

“Details,” she said breezily, now swiveling your chair side to side. “But seriously, what’s the harm in a little bit of flirting? He’s charming, dashing, hot, and you’re… uh, you…?”

“Wow, thanks,” you said dryly, though you couldn’t hide the small smile tugging at the corner of your lips.

She grinned. “See? You’re already warming up to the idea,” she leaned in close to your face.

The door swung open. There he was, the same man both of you had just been talking about. He took one look inside the room and raised an eyebrow. Your eyes widened, because of course, without any context it looked like you and Utahime were just about to kiss. You shrieked and pushed her away and she laughed at you, though she stopped when she saw the man judging her silently. Maki face-palmed behind the man.

“Excuse me if I am interrupting something intimate,” he looked at you. “We had an appointment regarding Maki’s performance, yes?”

“Ho ho ho! Yes you did!” Utahime giggled and left the room, and it seemed like she had taken all the comfort out of it too, leaving you, him and Maki standing in it, staring at each other awkwardly. Maki coughed loudly and excused herself, and you made a mental note to reduce some points on her essay.

You cleared your throat as he took a seat across from you. His presence seemed to shrink the staffroom. He leaned back in the chair as if he owned the room. You focused on the stack of papers in front of you, determined to act professional. In your mind, you could hear Utahime’s voice still echoing: Flirt with him!

He folded his hands on the desk and his gaze flickered briefly to the papers in your hands before locking onto your face.

“I have to ask,” he began casually. “Are you and that colleague of yours… together?”

You froze mid-flip of Maki’s report card, staring at him as if he’d just asked you to duel. “What?”

He leaned back slightly with a faint smirk. “You and that woman. The way you two were before. It crossed my mind that you might be…” He trailed off.

“I’m not— she’s— what? No!” you sputtered, feeling your cheeks burn.

“Ah,” he said softly, as if the weight of the world had just been lifted off his shoulders. “Thank heavens. I wouldn’t have known what to do with myself if you were.”

You blinked. “Excuse me?”

His smirk softened into something more playful. “Well, I’d have had to rethink all my plans, for starters.”

“Plans?” you echoed, your voice coming out higher-pitched than you had intended it to be.

“Mhm,” he murmured, tilting his head slightly. “Plans like how to win your favour, of course. You can imagine how devastating it would’ve been to learn I stood no chance from the start.”

You could feel your brain short-circuiting. Was he flirting? Or was this just his sense of humor?

“I— uh— Maki!” you stammered, blurting out her name like it was a life saver. It technically was. “We’re supposed to be talking about Maki’s progress!”

“Of course,” he said smoothly. “Her progress is paramount. But forgive me — I’m a man of focus, and right now, my focus seems to have shifted.”

“Let’s have it shift back to Maki then,” you insisted.

He chuckled softly, leaning forward just enough to close the space between you ever so slightly. “As you wish. But if I may, just one more thing.”

You hesitated warily. “…What now?”

“You have the most fascinating reactions,” he said. “I could watch you get flustered all day.”

Your hands gripped the papers tightly, and you let out an exasperated sigh. “Mr Zenin, do you ever stop talking?”

His grin widened. “Not when I’m talking to someone this delightful. And it’s Naoya, to you, darling.”

──── ୨ৎ ────

For the school’s 107th anniversary, you and the other teachers had decided to plan a surprise event for the students, guardians and even the principal. But as you stared at the chairs lying askew everywhere, and the food stall looking like it had undergone a raid, you sighed. Who would have to clean everything up in the end? The teachers, of course.

You bent down to pick a random flask up from the ground, and you looked up to see Naoya standing at the entrance of the schoolgates. You watched as he shooed away the carriage with Maki and their driver in it, and walked towards you.

You got up quickly and panicked, eyes darting everywhere to see if he really was walking to you or not. Naoya stopped in front of you, and suddenly the flask in your hands seemed too heavy. You dropped it, but he caught the tin, lips curving into a smile at your surprise.

“Astonishing reflexes, hm?” You nodded at his words and he laughed. “That was quite the show, I believe. You handle large crowds really well.”

You half-laughed at the compliment, looking down at your shaking hands. Why were you so nervous?

“Yeah, well, the crowd has departed now, and this is the tough bit.”

“I can help,” he smiled at you, and you blinked in surprise.

“Ah, you don’t have to. Besides, we can’t make guardians work for us.”

“I insist.” He pulled the sleeves of his shirt up and put his hands on his hips. “Where are the inconveniences that have you so troubled? I shall fight them.”

You snickered a bit. His dramatic actions reminded you of someone.

A certain someone.

Maybe that’s why you liked his company.

You snapped out of your thoughts when you saw him staring at the upturned tables with dread. “Has there been a call of war here?”

“Close enough. The seller had mochis on his bill of fare.”

“That sums it up. But you can’t possibly expect me to dirty my hands with this. A nobleman shouldn’t be doing manual labor,” he shook his head and sighed.

You raised an eyebrow at that. “You’re the one who insisted on staying to help.”

Naoya grinned. “Well, I can’t leave my favorite teacher to fend for herself. Besides…” He picked up two chairs effortlessly with one hand, and turned around to see if you were still watching. “It’s a chance to show off.”

Maybe it won’t be as boring with him around after all.

You had found yourself in this lonely teahouse far more than you could admit for someone of your status. It usually buzzed with the chatter of lonely workers, gossiping seamstresses and little children. But it was better, far better than what was going on at home anyway. You stared at your chawan, and put your fingers around it to drink. But the vessel was hot, and you hissed as you withdrew your hand back, the tea inside seemingly hissing back menacingly.

“Careful, darling,” a voice said from behind you and you jumped. “I said, careful,” he taunted, rubbing the top of your head affectionately. You looked up to meet Naoya’s eyes, your own widening when you saw him.

“Naoya!”

“Fancy meeting you here. I didn’t think I’d find you in such a quaint little spot.”

“Me neither. Isn’t this place,” you waved around at the dull walls of the room, “below your usual standards, Mr Zenin?”

He crossed your table to pull out a chair in front of you and sat down. “I could say the same about you. Or perhaps,” he brushed his fingers on your lips to wipe the wetness of tea from earlier, “we were led here by fate.”

You choked on air at his action. “Fate? We’re just at a teahouse. It’s not exactly a meeting of the stars.”

Naoya grinned at your fluster, and leaned forward playfully. “Ah, but you see, fate works in mysterious ways. And right now, it’s working to bring me closer to the most captivating woman in the room.”

“Ha, ha,” you mumbled, staring into your vessel to avoid meeting his eyes. “You talk too much.”

He laughed softly. The server arrived with a platter of sweets, and bowed, “For the lovely couple.”

You spat the tea you had just sipped out. “We— we’re not—”

“Thank you, miss,” Naoya interrupted you swiftly, and nodded at the server, who immediately straightened up to take his leave.

You stared at him, aghast. “Naoya, we’re not—”

“Not yet, at least. But I’m not opposed to the idea. How about we take the first step?” He leaned in closer and planted a teasing kiss on your cheek.

Your jaw dropped — from embarrassment or at his audacity, you did not know. “What—?”

“There. Now we’re official.”

──── ୨ৎ ────

You clutched your bag tightly. Great, another rainy day. And you had refused the umbrella your maid had offered to you as well. Sighing, you looked at the sky. The downpour didn’t look like it was going to stop anytime soon. If only a miracle happened that would escort you back home safely.

“Stranded, are we?” Naoya’s voice broke through the rain. You turned to see him standing with a pristine black umbrella, grinning at you as if he was not surprised at all to meet you here.

“Yeah. You stayed back? Where’s Maki?”

“Oh, I left her to go home in the carriage,” he shifted the handle of his umbrella to one shoulder. “Need me?”

“I’ll manage,” you replied, not wanting to disturb him. Though part of you wondered whether he would be here if you hadn’t been stuck here as well.

“Let’s not ruin such a lovely sight with such a disaster. Come on, I’ll walk you home.”

“I’ll be fine, really. You don’t have to—”

“I insist. Or would you prefer I let you catch a cold? Then you’d have no choice but to rely on me to nurse you back to health.”

You groaned. “You’re impossible.” Realizing you had no way home without his help, you stood under his umbrella. He grinned at you, tilting the umbrella more towards you to shield you from the harsh rain.

“You’re getting wet,” you pointed out.

“It’s a small price to pay.” He glanced at you with a sly smile. “Don’t tell me you’re worried about me.”

“I’m not,” you scoff slightly.

“Good. I’d hate for you to think I’m fragile.”

The walk ahead was comfortable, although you didn’t think that was the case for Naoya. By the time you had reached the entrance of the clan, you could see Naoya’s sleeves were drenched. But he didn’t seem to mind at all. His eyes followed something ahead that you coulldn’t see through the fog that covered the atmosphere.

“Naoya? What are you looking at?” You asked, and he huffed in irritation — more so at the thing he had seen than at you.

He wrapped an arm around your waist and you involuntarily sucked your stomach in at it. He led you to the figure.

White hair… Lovely blue eyes…

Your fiance who refused to be yours.

Gojo Satoru.

He was leaning against a pillar with his arms crossed in front of him, staring at you two through his sunglasses as if he would rather be looking at anything else than at the fingers curling around your waist.

Naoya, much to your horror, approached Satoru with you still in his arms. “Greetings,” he said pleasantly. “We’ve met before, yes?”

“Yes,” Satoru replied coolly. Then he addressed you, though his eyes didn’t quite meet yours. “Who’s he?”

You started. Fuck. What was he to you? An acquaintance? The guardian of one of your students? An associate—?

“Her boyfriend,” Naoya stepped in before you could respond, and you watched Satoru’s eyes lose what little warmth they had earlier. He turned to you as if expecting you to deny the claim.

“What? I mean, I guess…? Maybe? But I’m not sure—”

Satoru arched an eyebrow, and let out a single syllable that made your heart break into pieces all over again. “Oh.” He looked at you with an expression you couldn’t understand at all. His lips were twitched, but he wasn’t happy. His eyebrows were furrowed, but he wasn’t confused. You felt like he was toying with your brain on purpose with all the failed hints his face gave.

Naoya grinned smugly. “Don’t worry, I’ll leave her in your care now, brother.” He was clearly enjoying himself.

Your eyes widened.

Look… I’ve never thought of you that way before, okay? You’re… you’re pretty, but you’re like a sister to me. That’s how I’ve always seen you.

Satoru’s eyes darkened, and he shoved his hands in his pockets, taking a step back. “Great. Fantastic,” he mocked you. “I’m so glad you’re being taken care of, my little sister.”

A few more minutes passed, though they were so awkward you did not have the courage to relive them. Naoya had left with a smirk and a wave, and Satoru had followed you inside the estate when all you wanted to do was get away from him.

“You’re… back, haha,” you mumbled, and he nodded. The rain patted against the windowsill softly, and each drop felt like it rained in your heart.

“Is he really your boyfriend?” He blurted out.

“Huh?” You were caught off guard. “Oh, um… I don’t know? He took me out for coffee once. Does that count?”

“No, absolutely not,” Satoru scoffed.

You paused. And then you let out a laugh. He stared at you and let out a bark of laughter as well.

“Him? Your boyfriend,” he wiped the tears off from his eyes. “The audacity!”

“Typical of him, I suppose,” you chortled.

“What did he even ask you for the coffee thing?”

“He said he wanted to talk about Maki’s essays,” you snickered, and he cackled.

“Essays?”

“Yeah!”

“You know, you should probably go on a real date sometime. Just so you can tell the difference between a parent-teacher conference and, y’know, an actual date,” he rolled his eyes.

“Oh, yeah? And who’s going to take me out on this ‘real date’? You?” You teased.

Satoru froze. He opened his mouth as if to respond, then quickly closed it, his gaze flickering away from you.

You felt the awkwardness returning from earlier. Forcing out a laugh, you waved your hand dismissively. “I’m kidding! Obviously. Haha. Anyway, I should, uh, go now. Busy day tomorrow and all that. So, um, goodnight!”

You practically bolted from the room, leaving Satoru standing there, staring at where you had just been. His hand twitched as if he wanted to stop you, but he stayed silent, his jaw tightening as he watched you retreat.

You locked your door, hoping you weren’t being wishful as always when you heard the faint murmur of his voice.

“Maybe I would.”

──── ୨ৎ ────

The next morning, you stepped out of your house, adjusting your bag of supplies on your shoulder. Rejecting your driver who had offered you a ride in the luxurious carriage, you walked on, greeting the little children of the various families of your clan. Crossing the gate of the main estate, you found Satoru leaning casually against a nearby carriage, waiting for something — or rather, someone. 

“Morning,” he said, grinning like he had been there for hours. His sunglasses reflected the surprise in your eyes under the morning light.

“Uh… good morning?” You blinked in surprise. “What are you doing here?”

He shrugged at you. “Thought you might need a ride.”

“Don’t you have work?” You asked sceptically. He had had missions and trips to be on all this time, so why was he here now?

He shrugged again, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Not yet. Free morning.”

“Oh,” you frowned at his excuse. “Well, I usually just walk to work. Sorry.”

“Ah, well, no problem then,” he straightened up, brushing imaginary dust off his sleeves. “I’ll walk with you.”

“What? No, it’s alright—”

Satoru waved the driver of the carriage off and waltzed over to you. “Too late. I’m committed now.”

You sighed in defeat, letting him walk with you. Silence loomed over you, the kind that made you hyper aware of every crunch the leaves under your feet made, every chirp the birds on nearby trees let out, and even every breath you didn’t know you kept holding.

“It’s a nice morning, huh?” He finally broke the tense silence, though the strain in his voice made it even more awkward.

“Yeah it is,” you glanced and nodded at him briefly.

Another long stretch of silence. When did you two become this way? Nevermind, you remembered the day it all had started a bit too clearly for your liking. But this seemed too delicate, too much. How was your walk with the arrogant Naoya Zenin more comfortable than one with the person you had spent nearly all your life with?

“So,” he started again, clearing his throat, “you walk this route every day?”

“It’s not that far,” you nodded.

“It’s been a while since I walked anywhere,” he chuckled softly to himself.

You risked a small smile in the midst of the unpleasant stillness. “Yeah, I remember. You always complained if the carriage wasn’t ready, or if you were sent to meet other clans on foot.”

“I was spoiled,” he grinned proudly. “Still am, probably.”

Despite yourself, you laughed softly. But it was fleeting, and the silence returned to keep reminding you of how much everything has changed. By the time you reached the gates of Jujutsu High, the sun was higher in the sky. Satoru stopped a few stops short of the massive gateway.

“Well, here you are,” he turned to look at you with softened eyes.

You nodded and adjusted your bag. “Thanks for walking with me.”

“Anytime,” he smiled. Faint as it was, it still didn’t reach his eyes.

In the faculty lounge at Jujutsu High, you sat with Utahime after she had barked at the other teachers to let her have some “alone time” with you. It seemed as if although she was trying her best to get you and Naoya together, she was hardly denying the rumours between you and her.

 She suddenly perked up mid-cursing at an answer paper of one of the third-years. “Oh, right! Did you hear? There’s a new recruit for a teaching position. Principal Yaga told me yesterday.”

“Oh, cool,” you snapped out of your own thoughts about the weird tension Naoya had landed you in. “Who’s interviewing them?”

“You, duh.” You groaned audibly and she laughed. 

“Hopefully it’s not another Ijichi,” you grumbled, wincing as you remembered the interview you had with him a few months ago.

“Be nice,” she said, though she snickered at the memory. “He was just nervous!”

“Nervous?” You huffed loudly. “Utahime, the man tripped over his own feet before he even sat down. And I wasn’t even intimidating!”

“You? Not intimidating?” She raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, definitely. Tell that to the first-years.”

“I’m a delight,” you shrugged, batting your eyelashes innocently. “Ijichi, on the other hand… couldn’t even make eye contact during the interview. I had to repeat my question three times before he answered.”

“Maybe this one will be better,” she got excited, and you knew what she was thinking of before it even came out of her mouth. “Who knows? They might even impress you—”

“No,” you snapped, and she giggled.

You were in enough of what your teenage self would have called “boy troubles” already to have a third one enter your life. First Satoru, then Naoya, and now Satoru again. You sighed. Shouldn’t you be flattered that a guy like Naoya shows interest in you? He’s rich, a noble (although the Gojo clan wouldn’t care about status either way), handsome and romantic. What more could you want? But on the other hand, Satoru is… well… him? You hardly think anyone would be able to compete with the Satoru you knew.

Utahime set down her papers and held your hand, as if determined to show you how a real man should hold you. “Alright, what’s wrong?” She asked gently. “You’ve been off for days. Don’t think I didn’t notice.”

You hesitated. “Satoru,” you muttered.

“Of course,” she sighed. She inhaled loudly before— “That insufferable, pompous cretin! A walking disgrace to his lineage! I’ve met noble horses with more grace and tact! A royal pain, in every possible way. That walking definition of idiocy needs to be knocked off his pedestal, preferably into a pile of mud.”

You blinked rapidly. You’d be lying if you understood a single word that she just said.

“What does that even mean?”

“Doesn’t matter,” she waved a hand dismissively, fuming with rage. “The point is, he’s an idiot. The biggest idiot. And if he’s making you feel like this, then I’m going to—”

“Okay, okay!” You smiled faintly at her ambitious attempt to choke thin air with her hands as if grabbing his throat. “But it’s not just him.”

“There’s more? It’s alright, I can fight—”

“Not for fighting!” You added quickly, alarmed. “It’s Naoya.”

“What did he do?” She stopped her antics.

“I just feel like I’m stuck between those two,” you palmed your face. You were utterly distraught. “Satoru keeps walking me to work, like he’s trying to fix things, but then Naoya, he’s been kind, attentive, and all of the good stuff you keep babbling about. I don’t know what to do if it ever came down to choosing between them.”

She leaned forward seriously, and forced your chin upwards to meet her eyes like your second mother. “Listen. Ask yourself two questions. First: Who sees you for you? Not the ‘I’m-strong-enough-to-not-need-anyone-else’ image you’ve been trying to put up, not the teacher you’ve become, but just… you. The good and the bad.”

“And the second?” You frowned thoughtfully.

“Who makes you feel safe?” She said simply. “Not just physically, but emotionally as well. Who can you trust with your heart, knowing they’ll look after it like the finest treasure?”

Like the finest treasure? The answer was simple.

But not the one you wanted.

Not who you craved.

“You don’t have to decide right now,” Utahime gave you a small smile. “Just don’t settle for less than you deserve, okay?”

You nodded gratefully. “You’re way better at this than you seem like, you know.”

“I’m a delight,” she echoed your words from earlier, giggling.

──── ୨ৎ ────

It had been almost a month since the walks with Satoru had begun. You had hoped as time went by you would’ve gotten more used to the tension it carried, but each day seemed to offer a new, worse one. The quietness lingered heavily between you, just like it had been all this while.

“So,” he started, glancing at you, “am I annoying you?”

“What?” You cross-questioned, startled at the insecurity in his voice. “No, why would you think that?”

“I dunno,” he shrugged, trying his best to be nonchalant, but you knew him too well to know it was an act. “It’s been over a month of me tagging along, and you haven’t said much. I thought maybe you’d prefer walking with someone else. Like Naoya,” he mumbled the last part.

“No,” you said firmly. “You’re not annoying—”

“I just hoped,” he cut you off, “you’d think this was better than with him. That’s all.”

You didn’t know how to respond, so you just hummed, looking away at a nearby tree and counting the number of leaves on it.

“Yeah,” Satoru chuckled quietly, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Thought so.”

You couldn’t reply to that.

“Here we are,” he murmured, opening the schoolgates for you just to find something to do. But when he followed behind you inside, you raised an eyebrow.

“You’re coming all the way in? Don’t worry, Naoya won’t step inside the school.”

“Good to know,” he adjusted his sunglasses, “but I’m not worried about Naoya.”

“Then?”

He closed the gates and turned to face you, beaming despite his earlier demeanour. “I’m a candidate for the teaching post.”

“What?!”

“What? You didn’t know?” He tilted his head, acting innocent. “Thought I’d apply for the position. Figured it was about time I contributed my immense knowledge to the next generation.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me. You? A teacher?”

“I’ll take that as a compliment even though it’s meaningless that way,” he pouted at you. He then pushed past you to the hallway. “You’re the one interviewing me, hopefully? Race you!”

“What the— Satoru, come back!” But he was already running to whatever empty classroom he could find. Talk about professionalism.

You marched off to Principal Yaga’s office and burst in, resulting in him nearly stabbing his own finger with a sewing needle. “Sir! I can’t do this.

“It’s 8 in the morning,” he sighed wearily. “And what is it that you can’t do?

“I cannot interview that man.”

“Why not?”

You gestured wildly at the hall, from where audible noises of furniture being dragged around could be heard. “Because it’s Gojo Satoru.”

“I see.” Yaga leaned back in his chair, staring at the hall with a transfixed look. “Well, if it’s such a problem, I’ll just have Utahime handle it.”

Uh oh.

“No, no. She’ll kill him. Literally.” And you didn’t feel like cleaning up a crime scene today.

“With killer questions?” He remarked thoughtfully, rubbing his chin. “Then it’s settled. She’ll—”

“No, sir! I’ll do it.”

“Are you sure? You don’t have to.”

“Yes I do,” you gritted your teeth. 

You had finally found the man after looking through twenty three whole classrooms spinning rapidly on a chair. You coughed loudly and he jumped, though he sighed in relief when he saw that it was just you.

“Thought I’d get fired if the Principal saw me this way,” he said as you sat on the chair in front of him. “And I haven’t even been hired yet. Imagine that!”

“You know I could reject you as a candidate as well, right?” You rolled your eyes.

“What? No, you wouldn’t!” He shouted indignantly. “I knew I shouldn’t have eaten your last mochi.”

“What? You ate my last mochi?”

Satoru gulped, and you groaned.

You clutched your clipboard, already regretting your decision. “Alright, Mr. Gojo. Let’s begin.”

He grinned. “Of course, Mrs. Gojo. Don’t let me distract you.”

“Let’s start with the basics,” you tried to sound as professional as you could. “What experience do you have working with students?”

“Well, I’ve been mentoring the younger sorcerers unofficially,” he leaned back in his chair with a lazy smile. “Does being charming count?”

“No.”

“Really?” He tilted his head. “Because I think it’s working on you.”

You paused. “This isn’t a date,” you glared at him. “It’s an interview.”

“So you do know what a date is,” his grin widened in size. “Guess Naoya didn’t ruin you completely.”

“Why do you want this position?” You gritted your teeth.

“Figured I’d spend more time with you.”

“How do you handle indiscipline in the classroom?” You deadpanned.

“Depends,” he tapped his chin thoughtfully. “Are we talking about kids or you?”

Fucking—

“Do you even want this job?”

“I do,” he said simply.

You slammed your clipboard on the table in annoyance and stood up. “You’re following me, aren’t you?” You pointed an accusing finger at his face.

He looked at you incredulously. “What? No. Why would I—” He stopped, and his tone softened. “I’m here because I’m sick of the nobility and their entitlement.”

“Huh?”

“You heard me.” He stood up as well, crossing his arms and speaking more earnestly than you had ever heard from him. “Kids from those circles? You can’t change them — they’re too far gone. But here? The students come from humble families. They still have a shot at thinking for themselves, at doing things for the right reasons. I want to make sure they don’t grow up like us.”

You were stunned into silence, but before you could respond, a voice came from the doorway.

“Congratulations, Satoru Gojo. You’re hired,” said Principal Yaga, sparing one glance into the room and then leaving again.

Satoru’s expression changed again, and he was beaming like he hadn’t just bared his soul out to you a few moments ago. “Looks like you’re stuck with me, huh?”

You groaned, burying your face in your hands. “…Great.”

──── ୨ৎ ────

“This,” you gestured to a nearby door, “is the main classroom. It’s where first-years have their lessons. It’s equipped with barriers for live combat simulations, so the—”

“You know, you’ve got a really soothing voice,” Satoru cut in. “Ever think of switching to narration?”

“Shut up,” you shot him a glare. “Are you just here to waste my time?”

“Can’t I appreciate you a little?” He pouted, but when your look refused to soften, his shoulder sank and head drooped, and he trailed behind you like a small puppy.

So cute.

No, fuck, what the fuck are you thinking?

You walked on ahead, and the whispers from all those years ago that had remained in your thoughts seemed to bloom louder again.

You don’t even belong in this house!

We’re not kids forever, you know.

The two people I trust the most in this world!

Nothing more. Nothing less.

“Are you oka—?”

“Why are you here, Satoru?”

His smirk faltered. “I told you. I want to help shape the next generation—”

“And you’re telling me it has nothing to do with me?”

His gaze softened. “Would it be so bad if it did?”

You bit your lip, trying to shut out all the voices echoing in your head. “After what you said to me all those years ago? Because if you think that can be fixed then—”

“Stop.”

You did.

“I don’t know how old you think I was then, but it’s not like you were any older than me at that time. I want you to understand that,” he spun you around to face him, “I want to change. I want to show you how much I regret raising my voice at you that way.”

“Is that all you regret?” You asked.

He paused a bit, then fixed his sunglasses to cover his eyes completely. “No. I regret saying that—”

“Hey there!” chirped in a voice you almost didn’t recognize from how much you were focussing on Satoru’s words. Satoru’s face hardened when he saw the person waving at you from behind. You turned to look at him.

“Naoya?”

“Yes, missed me? I dropped Maki with the driver earlier than usual for you,” Naoya strode up to you, and hooked his arm with yours, snatching you away from Satoru’s grip. “Let’s walk you home, darling.”

“You know, Naoya, for someone who talks a lot about class, you’re pretty shameless when it comes to interrupting private conversations,” Satoru spat venomously, making the latter turn around to face him sneering.

“Private? Oh, forgive me,” Naoya snickered. “I didn’t realize you were finally learning how to talk to a woman. But could you get a different one? This one’s taken.”

“Oh, shut up. Isn’t it past your bedtime, Zenin? Shouldn’t you be off practicing your bowing skills or groveling to your clan?”

“Groveling?” Naoya smirked, clearly unbothered. “Not my style, Gojo. That’s more your speed, isn’t it? Or did you think running off to teach would make people forget how much of a disappointment you are?”

“Uh, okay,” you tried to interrupt. “I don’t think—” 

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Satoru cut you off, leaning forward with mock curiosity. “Must be hard living in a world where your only personality trait is kissing your elders’ feet.”

“Says the man who threw away everything his clan worked for,” Naoya mocked back. “Couldn’t handle the pressure of actually being useful?”

“Useful?” Satoru laughed maniacally, and you felt a shiver run down your spine. “Is that what you call wagging your tail for every decision the Zenin fossils make?”

“Enough! Please. You two are acting like kids—” You stepped in between them and raised your hands.

“Don’t think I don’t see what you’re doing, Gojo,” Naoya chided. “Trying to fix what you broke, crawling back like the desperate little rat you are.”

“Desperate, huh? And what are you? You’re just a carbon copy of every other one of your morons. Must be boring living without a spine.”

“Better a spine than whatever it is you call yourself. A disgrace to the Gojo clan. No wonder they’ve been so quiet about you. They’re probably embarrassed.”

“Okay, enough! I don’t have time for this,” you shouted.

Naoya immediately shut up. “Are we overwhelming you, darling? I can always walk you home. Gojo here,” his expression soured again, “can find his own way back.”

Satoru’s jaw tightened. “Funny, I was about to say the same thing about you.”

“Yeah? Then why don’t you just let her choose?”

“Of course.”

Both of them turned to you simultaneously, and you made a mental note to never interrupt their conversations ever again. Before things could escalate further, however, a sharp voice cut in.

“What in the name of all things holy, proper, appropriate, virtuous, demure, and absolutely not Utahime Iori is going on here?”

“Wow, did you just compare yourself to a holy being?” Satoru snickered, and earned a slap on the back of his head by her.

“I said ‘absolutely not’, you white-haired freak.”

“Utahime!” You sighed in relief, running to hug her around the waist, and she patted your head pitifully.

“There, there. You were stuck in this pissing contest between manchildren, weren’t you? You poor, poor soul.”

“Woman,” Naoya curled his lip, “don’t you have better things to do than stick your nose where it doesn’t belong?”

“Like you’re doing right now?” Utahime replied coolly. “We’re leaving,” she yanked you away from them with her.

“Wait—” Naoya protested.

“Hey—” Satoru stepped forward.

“No. Bye,” Utahime turned around with her nose high in the air, and you gave a meek wave to both of them. They did cancel their plans to walk you home, but god did you feel grateful to be dragged away from their fights about winning you like an object.

──── ୨ৎ ────

Life had taken a strange, twisting turn ever since Satoru had re-entered your world. The once awkward silences during his walks with you were replaced by lively conversations now. He was speaking to you more now. He would sometimes do or say things that reminded you of how he was, but it wasn’t quite the same. He still hadn’t joined you for dinner again, despite the seat you subconsciously left empty every night at the table.

Meanwhile, Naoya was relentless in his pursuit — walking you to school, picking you up, showing up at your door with every excuse in the book, Impress to Repress: A Noble’s Guide to Obtain the Perfect Wife. Funnily enough, you didn’t suppose it would be too far-fetched to think he had that book somewhere in his room with the way he would speak with you.

“I thought you might need help carrying your books,” he’d say, flashing you that perfect smile as though you couldn’t see past the charm. Or: “A lady shouldn’t walk alone in the evening.” And his favorite: “I dropped Maki off early for you.”

It wasn’t entirely unwelcome, though. Naoya was charming and thoughtful in a way that had its appeal, but it also left you feeling like you were being swooped away too far, like he was a strong tide made to sweep you off your feet. But when the tide receded, you found yourself glancing over your shoulder, wondering if Satoru had noticed.

Just who should you love?

Naoya was kind — kinder than you’d expected him to be. He knew how to make you laugh, smile, blush all the same. But his ego often left you bristling. He would decide for you even though you wanted to do it yourself, and part of you wondered if he was just like the Kamo servants and nobles you had seen earlier.

And then there was Satoru. He’d shattered your heart three years ago with careless words. The memory still burned like a fresh wound, but there were moments now when you saw something different in him. Something softer. Something that almost made you believe he could fix what he’d broken. But it was too toxic to linger on.

You reached the teacher’s lounge and found it empty except for Utahime, who was leaning against a desk, flipping through a stack of papers. She glanced up as you entered.

“Finally decided to get a break?”

“Yeah. Did you bully all the other teachers out again?”

“Thank me for that,” she poked her tongue out as you sat down laughing.

“Actually, I came here to ask you something,” you hesitated.

“Hm?”

“Why—” you huffed. “Why did you step in that day? You know, with both of them. You were supposed to let me… choose.”

Utahime set her pen down with a soft sigh. “Because you weren’t ready.”

“What do you mean?” You frowned. “I could’ve—”

“Could you, though?” She wondered loudly. “I’ve known you long enough to recognize when you’re drowning in your own head. You’re still holding onto pieces of your past with Satoru while Naoya’s practically dragging you into his future. And you? You’re just standing there, caught in the middle, hoping someone else will make the choice for you.”

You spluttered at how accurately she described your situation. “But you said—”

“I said ‘take your time’, didn’t I?”

“You did,” you sighed. “But what if it’s too late?”

“If it is, then a choice will be made for you,” her eyes darkened. “You know what clans are like. The Kamo clan even set up a proposal for Satoru, and he was just seventeen at the time.”

You opened your mouth to argue, but what could you say? If it wasn’t for your mother that day, Satoru would’ve been married off at the mere age of seventeen. The Kamo clan’s elder daughter had been married off at a young age as well, from what you had heard from their maids. Who’s to say that won’t be the case for you as well? How long could your mother shelter you after all?

Utahime softened slightly. “I stepped in that day because you needed time. But don’t think for a second that I’m going to keep doing it. This is your life. Your future. And you’re the only one who gets to decide who’s in it. So stop running in circles.”

“But I’m scared,” you croaked out.

“Scared?”

“What if I make the wrong choice?” You said quietly, looking down at your own hands.

Utahime leaned back with a small smile. “Then you deal with it, just like everyone else. But at least it’ll be your choice, not theirs.”

You nodded slightly.

“Oh, and one more thing — next time, don’t let two grown men fight over you in public. It’s embarrassing.”

You sat there, chewing on your own nail and wondering if you should laugh, cry, or start packing your bags to run away from both Satoru and Naoya entirely.

──── ୨ৎ ────

On Utahime’s advice, you had prepared two separate diaries to recount heart-fluttering scenarios you had with each man to help you ‘decide’ between them. As much as you found the whole idea ridiculous, you figured trying it won’t hurt. You had asked both Naoya and Satoru to buy you a diary each just to see how differing the outcomes would be.

Now, you picked a diary that looked posh and had a sophisticated-looking leather twine to strap it shut. The cover looked menacing, and the pages were eerily white. You did not have to second-guess to know who bought this one.

“Naoya,” you muttered, scribbling his name along the first page. You then turned to the next page, and began writing.

1. Cafe dates... he always ordered my drink without asking. Polite, attentive, charming... but also predictable.

2. Parent-teacher meeting dates? Oh god, does that even count? It’s just like what Satoru said.

You paused. Were you supposed to add Satoru’s name while writing in Naoya’s diary? Scoffing, you continued.

He made sure my notes were perfect, held doors open, smiled at every passing teacher like he was running for class president.

3. Dinner at the estate — ugh. The way he spoke to mother, like he was auditioning to be the next clan leader. Why is he so flawless?

You groaned aloud.

“Is he just too perfect or am I just being unfair?”

Annoyed, and also running out of romantic scenarios to write for Naoya’s diary, you picked up Satoru’s diary. It was like the old one you had maintained when you were thirteen. You giggled a little remembering how much you had to plan and strategize on the diary’s hidden location to keep it away from him. You couldn’t be caught dead with him knowing what was in it.

The first thing he had said when you had asked for a new diary was, “Why, is my charm too much for you that you have to pen it down so you don’t overflow?” And god, was he right.

You ran your fingers on the spine of the diary. It was your favourite colour — you wondered how he still remembered that. Did he have his own secret diary you had to find soon? You opened it and began writing.

“Where do I even start with you, you pumpkin?” You giggled at the words you had just scribbled.

1. The staff room date. Well, if you can even call it a date. You barged in uninvited, stole half my lunch, and started criticizing my handwriting like you were some literary genius. Just like you used to. What did you call it when we were kids? A calligraphy competition on every page, huh?

You remembered the scenario all too well.

The staffroom was peaceful for once, the only sounds coming from the ticking clock and the low murmur of the other teachers quietly going about their breaks. You were tucked into the corner by the windows, your lunch spread in front of you, savoring the rare moment.

And of course, it was then that the door flung open with an obnoxious swing.

Satoru Gojo.

You didn’t even have to look up.

“Well, well, look who’s having lunch all alone! No invite for me? Rude.” he smirked, sliding into the chair opposite you like he belonged there. Without waiting for your response, he reached over and casually snatched a piece of your lunch.

You sighed. “I didn’t invite you because I didn’t want you here.”

“Fair enough. Lucky for you, I’m here to grace you with my presence anyway.” He gobbled up your lunch. “Hmm, not bad. You didn’t cook this yourself, did you?”

You snatched your box away from him. “Can you not? This is my lunch.”

Satoru leaned back with a huff. “Whatever.” He noticed your open notebook. “What’s this? Lesson plans? Don’t tell me you’ve been taking this teaching thing seriously.”

“Don’t touch that!”

But he did. And he held it out of reach, flipping through the pages. “Relax, I’m just taking a look. Whoa. Your handwriting hasn’t changed a bit.”

“And what’s that supposed to mean?”

“You know, it looks like you’re trying to win an award for best handwriting or something.”

You flushed. “I just like making it neat!”

“Neat? Are you kidding? I remember trying to copy your style once when we were kids, and mom thought I was possessed.”

You snorted. “Maybe you were just bad at writing.”

“Oh, absolutely. I gave up halfway and just stuck to my chicken scratch.”

2. The sparring match. I hated you for pairing up with me for what? “Showing the kids how it’s done”? What does that even mean? And what kind of lunatic goes easy for three rounds and then wipes the floor with you in the fourth? But afterward, you stayed to help me fix my form. You didn’t have to... but you did.

In the grounds, you stood with your wand in your hand, and across from you stood Satoru, smirking confidently, his wand poised like an extension of his arm.

“Showing off, huh?”

“Shut up, you’re the one who needed my help in ‘teaching these kiddos’,” you shot back. “And besides, I don’t need you to show off in front of them."

“Who said I’m showing off?” He grinned. “Just here to make sure you don’t embarrass yourself.”

He flicked his wand, sending light spells your way. You blocked them as best as you could, but he was always one step ahead.

“You’re not even trying!” You shouted.

“Of course not, I’m just giving you a chance.”

But then, without warning, he shifted his stance and cast a powerful spell that knocked your wand from your hand.

“What the—?”

“Language.”

“—hell”

“Just showing you how it’s done,” he shrugged, and you gritted your teeth.

He stepped closer, handing you your wand. Reluctantly, you took your wand.

“Since when did you become better than me at this?” You asked him.

“Since you forgot your old self among your new troubles,” he replied with a twinkle in his eye.

3. The stargazing. God, Satoru, you’re insufferable. Who even points out constellations while lying on the grass and makes up fake names for them just to make someone laugh?

You laid on the grass, watching the night sky stretch endlessly above you. Satoru was beside you, dramatically pointing at every star he could set his eyes on.

“You see that one? That’s the Satoru constellation. Handsome, charming, and clearly the best in the sky.”

“I don’t think that’s a real constellation,” you giggled.

“It is if I say it is,” he pulled a face.

“Alright, alright,” you shook your head. “You’re impossible.”

“And yet, here you are. Lying next to me, staring at my constellation.”

You stayed quiet, watching as his expression softened. He turned to you, lifting his head with the palm of his hand and looking right into your eyes with his bright blue ones.

“You know,” he whispered. “Stars are kind of overrated.”

You turned to look at him. “Why’s that?”

He spared half a glance at the sky before leaning in to nuzzle into your neck, but he stopped short, barely a few inches away from your skin. “Because I’ve been staring at something brighter all night.”

Your breath hitched, but before you could respond, he turned back to the sky, his usual grin breaking the moment. “I’m just a chill guy, just thinking, you know.”

“About what?” You asked curiously.

“How someone as brilliant as you still gets stars in her eyes every time she looks up.”

“Wow, that’s surprisingly poetic of you.”

“Right?” He gushed over himself. “Don’t get used to it though. I have a reputation to maintain.”

“There it is,” you smiled.

“But seriously,” he laid his head down on the grass right next to your chest. “I don’t mind the stars. I just think the view’s better when you’re in it.”

You turned away, pretending to admire the flowers, but the heat in your cheeks might have given you away.

Why did you look at me like that, like I was the only star that mattered?

──── ୨ৎ ────

Maki leaned against your desk, watching you intently. “So... what's going on with you and Naoya?”

You widened your eyes. She had insisted on staying back to help you rearrange the chairs after class, yet here she was now, asking you questions about your personal life. 

“Why does that matter?” You asked, sounding more defensive than you had intended to be.

“He’s from my clan,” she said, as if that was enough of a reason for you to talk about the weird love triangle you had landed yourself in. She sat on your desk, swinging her legs up and down.

“Look, I... I don’t really know. I mean, it’s definitely more than what I expected, but I’m not sure where it’s going.”

Maki raised an eyebrow, her lips pressing into a thin line as if she was considering something. She seemed rather skeptical.

“Alright, just don’t martyr yourself for him.”

Your stomach twisted at her words. Did she even realize what she was saying? You looked up at her, trying to read her expression, but it was hard to tell what she was really thinking.

“What does that even mean?” You asked incredulously.

Maki sighed, pushing herself off from the desk. She walked a few steps towards you. “He’s not worth it,” she said, and then she left the classroom just like that.

What the hell?

You’d known all this while the Zenin clan was among the more orthodox and conservative ones, and you considered yourself lucky to be part of the Gojo clan, one of the more lenient ones. But seeing a young girl, a student you had been teaching for a while nonetheless, voice out a cryptic message, or rather a plea for help from misogynistic fucks, perhaps, made you second-guess the whole idea all over again.

Just what has this girl been through?

Later that day, you spotted Maki and Naoya leaving together, and felt the pit in your stomach deepen.

Something was not right.

──── ୨ৎ ────

Your ears had perked up when you had been told by your mother that there was another meeting of the clans of the nobility, but that wasn’t what had you interested. It was the fact that all the clans would be present, and that included the Ieri, Iori and Geto clans. As much as you were sure your friends would hate to attend this stupid meeting, Satoru’s suggestion of sneaking out made you far more excited than you should be.

So here you were, writing letters to Shoko and Suguru to attend the meeting at all costs after barking Utahime’s ear off to do so as well. You crumpled your parchment up and threw it in a corner for the fifth time.

What were you even supposed to write to friends you’ve grown apart from?

You huffed and began scribbling on fresh parchment once more.

Dear Shoko,

I can already picture you rolling your eyes at this letter. “What is she up to now after not keeping contact for ages?” you’re probably thinking. Well, for once, it’s not mischief, or boy troubles, or even weird investigations cough cough.

It’s been so long since we last saw each other, and I’ve missed you more than words can say. Remember when we used to sneak out of classes just to sit under the old tree and complain about literally everyone? Things have changed so much since then — we’ve changed so much. But I think a part of me still hopes that when I see you, it’ll feel like no time has passed at all.

There’s a clan meeting coming up (ugh, I know), and I heard your clan will be attending. Please tell me you’re coming. I’ll even tolerate your sarcasm if it means we can catch up properly. Bring your flask, too — I have a feeling we’ll need it. Oak tree, Iori Estate, don’t forget.

I can’t wait to see you again. Write back if you have the time, or just show up and surprise me. Either way, I’ll be waiting.

With love and exasperation, Your favourite patient

Good enough, you thought, but Shoko probably won’t even read all of that. Eh well it didn’t matter anyway.

Dear Suguru,

How have you been? Really been? I’ve missed having someone to talk to who actually listens. I’m sure your clan keeps you busy, but I hope you’ve found a moment or two to breathe.

There’s a clan meeting coming up, and I heard the Geto Clan will be attending. Just the thought of seeing you again after all these years makes me... well, nervous, if I’m honest. Not because of anything bad, but because there’s so much I want to say, so much I’ve wanted to ask you.

Do you remember the last time we all sat together, back when things were simpler? I miss that. I miss us. Maybe this meeting will give us a chance to find that again — at least a little.

I hope you’ll be there. No pressure, of course, but if you come, we’ll be waiting under the oak tree out back in the Iori estate. We’d really like to see you.

Take care of yourself, Suguru. And don’t overthink this letter as much as I overthought writing it.

Yours, Your favourite troublemaker

──── ୨ৎ ────

You sat across from Satoru in the carriage to the meeting in silence. His eyes were fixed on the passing scenery outside, but you could tell from the way his fingers fidgeted against his knee that his mind was elsewhere — most likely at the fact that both his mother and father were in another carriage together.

Over the years, their relationship had grown even more strained than it had become on that unfortunate day. You couldn’t imagine what it would be like for either of them to be forced to act like a healthy couple for the sake of a few hours in front of thousands of other people.

“Satoru?” You called softly, and he snapped out of his thoughts.

“Hm?”

You patted his knee. “They’ll be fine.”

He huffed a short laugh, turning his head just enough to glance at you. “You’re too optimistic. What if they explode at each other in the middle of the meeting? Or worse, drag the entire Gojo name through the mud?”

“Then you can just blame me,” you shrugged, trying to lighten the mood. “Say I tripped and caused a distraction, or spilled tea on someone important, or whatever it is that nobles dislike.”

“Oh? And they would believe that? Miss perfect student?” He cracked a small smile.

“I’m not a student anymore,” you stuck your tongue out at him, and he laughed.

“Yeah, but I don’t think that would really improve things.”

“It might. Chaos is a great way to bond people. Just look at us!”

He turned fully to face you now in amusement. “That’s your big plan? Turn the meeting into a comedy night?”

“If it gets you to stop worrying for five seconds, then yes,” you smiled.

He leaned back in his seat, the faintest smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “You’re ridiculous, you know that?”

“Maybe. But ridiculous is what you need right now.”

He held your gaze for a moment, the storm in his eyes quieting just a little. “Thanks… for, you know, trying.”

“Trying?” You gasped as if offended. “I excel at this. Just wait — by the end of this night, you’ll owe me for single-handedly saving the Gojo name.”

──── ୨ৎ ────

You tiptoed through the dimly lit corridor, Satoru trailing behind you with his usual cocky grin. He wasn’t exactly stealthy, but he was trying his best, even if his ‘best’ meant occasionally tripping over his own feet and knocking random armours on the way.

“This is dumb,” he whispered to you. “We should just portal her out.”

“No! Tha’ll make it too obvious,” you whisper-shouted. “We’re supposed to be discreet.”

“You’re whispering like a toddler playing hide-and-seek,” he snorted and you shushed him. “That’s the opposite of discreet.”

“Shut up. Now where’s the oak tree?”

“Out?”

“Obviously, genius, but where’s ‘out’?”

“Uhhhh,” he dragged out his response before pointing to a very clear exit. “There? You didn’t see that yet?”

You chose not to dignify that jab with a response, pushing open the door to where Shoko and Suguru were supposed to wait for you as per your letters.

“Fuck, it’s dark in here,” your voice echoed for some reason.

“Careful, princess. Wouldn’t want you to be caught swearing like you’re not from a noble clan,” Satoru snickered, and you wanted to whack him on the head like Utahime had done the other day.

“About time,” a bored voice said, making the two of you jump and turn in horror, staring at the darkness to make out the figures that were inching closer and closer to you. “We thought you chickened out from what you said in the letter.”

“Sh-Shoko?”

“Duh.”

“Shoko!” You ran up to her as she came into the light of the estate, hugging her like your life depended on it. “Missed you.”

“Missed you too,” she patted your shoulder. “Did you two get lost, or were you off making out in a broom closet or something?”

“What?” You deadpanned. “I haven’t seen you in years, and this is how you greet me?”

Suguru grinned from beside her. “I mean, she’s not entirely wrong,” he gave a light punch on the chest to Satoru. “You’re a little flushed.”

“See?” Satoru smirked. “I told you we should’ve taken the broom closet route. Much more efficient.”

You groaned. “Leave that! Utahime’s stuck in some ridiculous ceremony, and we need a plan to get her out.”

“How bad could it be?” Shoko said. “Light some incense, wave your hands, maybe sacrifice a virgin or two, chant a bit, and she’s done, right?”

“You’ve clearly never been to an Iori ritual,” Suguru replied. “They’re like a cult, but boring.”

“Oh, they’re worse than boring,” said Satoru. “They make you kneel for hours, bowing and chanting. And if you screw up, they start over. It’s like boot camp for spiritualists.”

“Exactly,” you said, sighing. “So, we need a distraction. Something big enough to pull her out but small enough not to get us executed by her clan.”

“I say we fake an emergency,” suggested Suguru. “Like, ‘Oh no, a curse is loose!’ Then she’s got to leave.”

“Too obvious,” Shoko lit a cigarette. “They’ll know it’s fake when Satoru doesn’t stop the ‘curse’ immediately.”

“How about an eating contest?” proposed Satoru, immediately earning an actual punch from Shoko.

“What if we convince them that Utahime has to perform an exorcism somewhere else?” asked Suguru. “Like, say, the riverside.”

You snapped your fingers at his brilliance. “Yes! Perfect! We’ll say her ‘spiritual energy’ is needed for a very urgent ritual. Shoko, you’ll pretend to be an elder. Suguru, you’re the messenger. Satoru, just— stand there and look important.”

“Excuse me? I am always important.”

“Anyway—” Shoko interrupted, taking a long drag. “I bought props just because.” She pulled out her bag and unzipped it. Out came tumbling fake moustaches, eyebrows, caps, cloaks and god knows what.

“What the—” you were stunned. “Why did you get this stuff?”

“Told you, just because,” she shrugged. “It’s a stupid clan union meeting. Thought we’d need some entertainment.”

“Shoko, you’re a genius.”

The four of you tried to find the ritual hall amongst the many rooms of the estate. After bullying a random security guard and having him lead you to the hall, Satoru dramatically banged the door open. The elders of the Iori clan all turned to look at the four of you, and Utahime, who was kneeling in the center surrounded by them, glanced up and immediately put her head back down with curses disguised as a cough.

The air was thick with incense and your eyes were burning. Shoko scratched her fake beard, and stepped forward to speak in a loud, rumbling voice. “Elders of the Iori clan!” She lifted her hands up and flailed her arms around wildly to address them. “There has been a disturbance under your watch,” she thundered, “in the northern woods, of which none can speak.”

“A disturbance?” A grandma squeaked. “What kind, Master Yoo?”

You had no idea who Master Yoo was, but if this plan was working, you didn’t care either.

“It shall remain classified,” Suguru stepped forward slowly with a hunchback and a stick. “None can speak of it without endangering  everyone else.”

“It is the kind,” you bowed to them, “that only the heir of a true princess born to a clan as unique as yours, in the shadow of an oak as old as yours and for a purpose as grave as this may resolve.”

“Us?” An old man exclaimed. “So you have chosen us?”

“Your heir, to be exact,” Suguru clarified.

“Ah, well, then, we shall send the boy—”

“The girl, please,” you deadpanned.

The elders blinked. “Why the girl?”

“Her energy is unique and, uh, mesmerizing,” Shoko boomed, making them fall to their knees. She dramatically walked to the squeaking grandma and grabbed her by both collars of her kimono. “Your heiress has been chosen by the spirits of the longgone.”

“Chosen, you say?” She squeaked in response. “Why wasn’t this revealed earlier?”

Satoru sighed dramatically while you lifted Utahime up. “Do you always question the will of the spirits? No wonder they never bless this place.”

The elders were flustered. They waved Utahime away. She rose stiffly and, still muttering long strings of curses, followed you all out.

Minutes later, the five of you were lounging by the riverside, the cool night breeze rustling the trees. A bottle of sake was being passed between you, the props of earlier long discarded.

“A divine mission? Really?” Utahime was exasperated. “That’s the best you could come up with?”

You laughed, and Shoko said, “Well, it worked, that’s all that matters.”

“You’re welcome by the way,” Satoru grinned. My ‘important face’ is the only thing that made the whole act believable.”

“That’s because you’re aging,” you sighed. “Aging enough to be one of those elders by now.”

“Owie, that hurt.”

“Your face is important for comedy, not authority, Satoru,” said Suguru. Then, he raised his drink. “To divine missions, friendships, and chaos wherever we go.”

“Cheers!”

The moon was still high, and you wondered how long it would take for your clans to realize that all of you were missing from the main event. The air was filled with the faint sounds of laughter and clinking bottles as your friends enjoyed themselves nearby. Satoru, however, had wandered off to the water’s edge. He crouched, plucking smooth stones from the shore and skipping them across the surface with surprising precision.

You hesitated for a moment, then walked over, unable to resist teasing him.

“What’s this?” You asked playfully. “The Gojo Satoru, retreating from the crowd to have a quiet moment with his thoughts? I thought you thrived on attention.”

Satoru did not look back at you. “Oh, I do,” he half-chuckled. “But I also thrive on balance. Can’t be too perfect all the time — it makes people insecure.”

You snorted. “How generous of you to consider the feelings of the peasants.”

He glanced back at you, a smirk tugging at his lips. “See? You get it.”

“Oh, I get it. You’re just here to keep the river from feeling too plain without your dazzling presence.”

He laughed, straightening up and brushing his hands on his pants. “Alright, you caught me. I was giving them all a break from my charm. But what’s your excuse? Couldn’t handle the drinking game?”

“More like I couldn’t handle Suguru trying to explain his ‘philosophical approach’ to sake. What did he say again? ‘Is the sake good because you’re dreaming, or are you dreaming because you’re drinking good sake?’ My brain was melting.”

“Fair point. His monologues can be,” he grinned, “intense.”

You stood beside him now, staring out at the water. He tossed another stone, this one skipping three times before sinking. “Is this what you do when no one’s watching? Brood by the river and play with rocks?”

“First of all, it’s called skipping stones, not playing with rocks. Second, brooding? Me? That’s your job.”

“Excuse me?”

“You’re the one standing there like the protagonist of a tragic romance novel, sighing at the stars. Very dramatic.”

You nudged his arm, rolling your eyes.

“You’re impossible.”

“And yet, you’re still here.”

There was a comfortable silence over both of you. The night felt quieter now, the laughter from the group fading into the background. You shifted, suddenly aware of how close you were standing.

“...You okay?” You asked softly.

He turned to you, his usual grin faltering just slightly. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“I don’t know. Just feels like there’s something on your mind.”

He held your gaze for a moment, then looked back at the water. “Maybe. But nothing a little stone-skipping and your terrible jokes can’t fix.”

“Terrible?” You grinned. “I’ll have you know I’m the funniest person you love.”

“You’re the only person I love.”

Your smile faded a bit as you looked into his eyes, and he did the same. Suddenly, everything you did was making you feel embarrassed — your breathing, blinking, shaking hands… until he grasped your fingers and put them on his chest.

“Do you feel that?”

Yes.

I feel the love.

You nodded, and he smiled a little. He tipped your chin up to meet your gaze. “How about we ditch the ditching of our super important clan meeting?”

“There’s nothing I wanna do more,” you breathed.

You and Satoru were sneaking back toward the main hall, your laughter still echoing softly as you wiped imaginary dust off his shoulder.

“I can’t believe you slipped on that rock,” you poked your tongue out at him. “All that talk about being graceful—”

“It was one rock, and it was slippery,” he cut you off. “Besides, I saved it. You’re the one who almost fell in the river trying not to laugh.”

“Saved it? You looked like a baby seal trying to ice skate.”

His mock-offended gasp earned another burst of laughter from you. But as you approached the entrance to the meeting hall, your mirth faded. Standing just outside the large carved doors was Satoru’s mother, speaking to a few people. But then she turned around, and her piercing eyes narrowed as they landed on the two of you.

“You two,” she said sharply, and you winced in unison. “How fortunate you both decided to rejoin us.”

“Fortunate?” Satoru was unfazed. “Or just impeccable timing, Mother? You know I always aim to impress.”

“Your absence was noted.” She ignored him completely and turned to look at you. The subtle scrutiny in her eyes made you feel like you’d been caught sneaking sweets from the pantry.

“We just needed some air after all the formalities,” you added hastily.

“Then I trust you’ve had enough of it.”

Without waiting for a reply, Satoru’s mother coolly turned and swept back into the hall. Satoru let out a dramatic sigh. “Well, that was fun.”

Shaking your head, you followed him into the hall. The hum of conversation and clinking glasses immediately engulfed you. The room was grand, the walls lined with banners representing the noble clans in attendance. You recognized faces from the Kamo and Iori clans, along with a handful of others. The two of you slid into unoccupied chairs near the back, just out of your parents’ immediate line of sight.

“Let me guess,” Satoru whispered to you. “Five minutes in here, and you’ll be begging to sneak out again.”

“Ten minutes. I’m trying to behave.”

“You? Behave? That’s new.”

True to his prediction, boredom set in quickly though. The speeches droned on about alliances and tradition, and Satoru began fidgeting. At one point, he caught your eye and mouthed, ‘Let’s go.’

Before you could answer, he grabbed your hand and led you toward the balcony doors. He tugged you through the crowd, weaving around clan leaders and dignitaries with the ease of someone who knew exactly how untouchable they were. You barely managed to stifle a laugh at the old nosy lady he had pushed as he pushed them open and pulled you into the cool night air.

“Satoru — people are watching!”

“Good. They can admire how stunning you look while I steal you away.”

You stood against the railing, the city lights below shimmering like scattered stars, though none of them could light you up like the man in front of you did. Satoru leaned beside you, his elbow brushing against yours.

“Do you ever wonder why they even bother with these meetings? It’s just a bunch of old people pretending they’re still important.”

“Careful,” you smiled. “Those ‘old people’ include your parents.”

“Apologies. Allow me to rephrase: a bunch of old people... and my extraordinarily distinguished parents.”

You laughed softly. “It’s not like you and me here are any better. What is to guarantee that I won’t be bored here?

“Bored? Here, with me? I’m hurt. My company is way more exciting than whatever that was,” he gestured wildly towards the hall. He leaned against the railing, his silver hair catching the moonlight like it was showing itself  off. “And besides, you’re the one who kept looking at me like you wanted to escape. Don’t deny it.”

You crossed your arms, raising a brow. “Oh, I was looking at you? Pretty sure it was the other way around, Gojo.”

His grin widened, his eyes narrowing in mock challenge. “Caught me. Can you blame me, though? You’re kind of hard not to stare at.”

The way he said it — too casual, too confident — made your heart skip a beat. Just like it always would when he was around. Just like always.

“Do you ever get tired of flirting?”

Without missing a beat, he replied, “Do you ever get tired of pretending you don’t like it?”

You opened your mouth to retort, but nothing came out. He tilted his head, watching you with an expression that was both smug and softer than usual. “Speechless? That’s a first. I’ll take it — and your blushing face — as a win. See, you like my balcony adventures!”

You sputtered, trying to deny it, but he only laughed, the sound low and warm in the quiet night.

“Maybe I just like the view.”

“Flirting back now?” said Satoru, and you furrowed your brows at him. “I knew you’d cave eventually.”

“That is not what I meant.”

“Too late now,” he grabbed your hand for a second time that night. “I think I like this better,” he leaned in.

The space between you felt smaller. His voice was quieter as he added, “I meant what I said near the riverside. I always will.”

A hand wrapped around your waist, and you couldn’t care less about the number of people that could walk in on you at this exact moment. You inched closer to him, too shy to ask for what you wanted. But he did so as well, granting you the permission you needed.

You closed your eyes, parting your lips.

A sister.

No, that was a lie.

He loved you.

Your lips brushed against each other’s for half a second before—

“Oh, there you are. I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”

You both jumped slightly, and Satoru pulled back, his expression immediately darkening. You turned to see Naoya strolling toward you with his usual smug smile.

“Hope I’m not interrupting anything important,” he bowed in front of you, kissing the back of your hand like he owned it. “Care to join me for a dance?”

You opened your mouth to answer, but Satoru stepped forward, his hand still lightly brushing your other one. “Actually, we were in the middle of something—”

“I’m sure it can wait. After all, a Zenin doesn’t ask twice.”

You glanced between them, and with a resigned sigh, you forced a polite smile and stepped toward Naoya, your heart sinking as you felt Satoru’s hand fall away.

“...I’ll be back,” you said to Satoru.

His only response was a tight nod. As Naoya led you back inside, you couldn’t help but glance over your shoulder. Satoru stood there on the balcony, his hands in his pockets, watching as you disappeared into the crowd.

Naoya led you onto the dance floor with confident strides. “You’re light on your feet. A perfect match for me, wouldn’t you agree?”

You bit back a retort, focusing instead on the music and not the way his hand lingered just a little too long on your waist. You still weren’t sure whether the tingling on your hand was because of Naoya’s little kiss or due to Satoru’s touches earlier. And you didn’t get a chance to ponder on it either.

Naoya twirled you out dramatically, and when he pulled you back in, his lips brushed your knuckles in a gesture too showy to be sincere.

From the corner of your eye, you caught Satoru leaning against a pillar stiffly. His hands were shoved deep into his pockets, but you could see the tension in his shoulders. His jaw was tightened as he watched Naoya spin you across the floor.

“Unbelievable,” you read his lips.

But if he had a problem, he’d say something, you thought. Or was he too much of a coward to do so?

Naoya dipped you — dramatically, of course — and you couldn’t miss the way Satoru’s expression darkened, his knuckles whitening as his hands clenched into fists. Finally, he pushed off the pillar, striding toward the two of you.

“Mind if I take over?” He said smoothly. “The lady looks like she’s had enough of your theatrics.”

“Is that so?” He raised an eyebrow. “I didn’t hear her complaining.”

“You didn’t ask,” you said flatly.

Naoya’s smirk faltered just enough to give you a flicker of satisfaction before Satoru stepped between you. “Thanks for warming her up for me, man.”

Without waiting for a response, Satoru took your hand and placed his other hand on your waist, effortlessly guiding you into the next step.

“Jealous much?” You teased him.

“Jealous? Nah. Just couldn’t stand watching him butcher a perfectly good waltz.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the small smile tugging at your lips. At first, the dance felt awkward. His hand was just a little too tight on your waist, and your steps were slightly out of sync.

“For someone so full of himself, you’re surprisingly bad at this,” you said.

“Excuse me?” He replied, mock-offended. “I’m amazing at this. You’re just distracted by how good I look.”

“Yeah, yeah. Keep telling yourself that.”

But as the music slowed, and the crowd dispersed, his teasing grin softened. His hand on your waist relaxed as his thumb brushed against the fabric of your dress.

“You didn’t answer me earlier.”

That caught you off guard. You looked up, meeting his gaze, and for a moment, the noise of the room faded into the background.

“You didn't ask.”

The corners of his mouth lifted, not in his usual cocky smirk, but in something gentler, more genuine.

“Well, then, I will. Do you still… you know?”

“You know what?”

“Love me like you did?”

Your feet stopped.

Did you?

Or more than that, should you?

“Is it bad if I do?”

“No, not bad at all,” he smiled.

“Satoru.”

“Hm?”

“Why did you? That day. Why?” You asked him softly the one question you had been dying to ask for three whole years.

“I… Fuck. Naoya, him, I couldn’t—” his hands dropped from your waist, and you flinched a little, moving a few feet back, realizing that your question might have messed your moment up. “Angel—”

“Attention, please,” Naoya clinked a glass loudly. “I have an announcement I’d like to make here.”

The hum of conversation in the room died down as all eyes turned toward him. You and Satoru both turned to look at him.

“This is a moment I’ve been looking forward to all of tonight. All my life, I have wanted nothing more than to serve the woman of my dreams, and tonight, I wish to solidify not only the bonds between our families but also the bond I share with this remarkable woman.”

He turned to you, his smile widening as he reached into his pocket. He strutted towards you. Your blood ran cold as he pulled out a velvet box, dropping to one knee in one fluid motion. Naoya opened the box, revealing a glittering ring) “Will you do me the honor of becoming my wife, Ms Gojo?”

The room erupted into soft gasps and murmurs of approval, particularly from the Zenin elders. You stood frozen, every pair of eyes in the room drilling into you. All of them, all their stares and expectations felt suffocating.

Your eyes looked at Satoru’s and he seemed like he wanted you to say no. You looked at the elders and they all wanted you to say yes. You looked at your mother, and her eyes were glossy, yet you would take that more than anything else at this moment. Because they didn’t have your answer ready for you in them. They wanted to let you choose. 

“I… I don’t—” you were barely audible. Could everyone just look away from you?

The words stuck in your throat. The weight of Naoya’s proposal, the stares—

“I don’t know.”

The collective murmurs grew louder and confused. For a split second, Naoya’s expression flickered. He looked irritated with your answer. But just as quickly, he smoothed it over, standing and pulling you into a light embrace.

He laughed softly and brushed his lips against your cheek. “She’s overwhelmed. It’s a lot to take in, I understand. These things can’t be rushed, can they?” He turned to the crowd, his tone light and reassuring. “She’s just shy, that’s all. I’ll give her all the time she needs.”

Polite applause broke out, and the pressure in the room became unbearable. Naoya’s hand settled on the small of your back, guiding you toward a quieter corner, and you wanted to wrench it away from your body.

But you couldn’t. Your eyes darted to Satoru. He hadn’t moved. His icy gaze was locked on Naoya, his jaw tense, his entire body screaming for you. And yet, beneath the frustration in his expression, there was something else — something raw and unspoken.

Something you recall seeing in your own eyes.

Three years ago.

You finally cornered Satoru in the training courtyard after quite a while of him dodging your presence for the rest of the night. He was leaning against a pillar, arms crossed, staring at a fountain in the middle of the gardens.

“Satoru.” You stepped closer to him. “Why have you been avoiding me?”

He didn’t even glance at you, his gaze fixed somewhere in the distance. “I’ve been busy.”

“That’s a lie and you know it. You’ve been avoiding me like I’m some kind of plague.”

Satoru finally turned to you, and said with a bitter laugh, “What do you want me to say? That everything’s fine? That I’m thrilled about everything that’s happening?”

“You could at least tell me the truth! I don’t understand why you’re acting like this.”

His jaw tightened, his hands curling into fists at his sides. “You don’t understand? Fine. Do you know how hard it is for me to see you with him?” His voice cracked slightly, the anger giving way to something new. “To know he gets to touch you? To see you smile at him like that?”

You froze, the weight of his words hitting you like a tidal wave. “Satoru…”

But he didn’t let you finish. He took a step back from you. “You didn’t even reject him. You stood there, and you let him—”

He stopped himself, his voice breaking off. He looked away, running a hand through his hair in frustration.

“I didn’t know what to do! Everyone was watching, and I—”

“You should’ve said no!” He shouted. The silence that followed was deafening. He stared at you, his chest rising and falling as he tried to rein in his emotions. Then, he whispered quietly, as if about to cry any second. “You should’ve said no.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but the words wouldn’t come.

“I can’t do this anymore.”

──── ୨ৎ ────

The Gojo estate was eerily quiet as you made your way to Satoru’s mother’s quarters. Your heart pounded in your chest. You knocked softly, and her calm voice invited you inside.

Satoru’s mother was seated by a low table, a cup of tea in hand. She looked up, her eyes softening as she took in your disheveled state. “Darling, what’s the matter?”

You sat across from her, your hands trembling as you tried to form the words. You choked a sob. “Did I make a mistake?”

“Mistake?”

“By not saying no to Naoya right away?”

Her expression didn’t waver, but she leaned forward, placing a comforting hand over yours. “You were caught off guard,” she said gently. “Anyone would’ve been overwhelmed in that situation."

Tears welled in your eyes again, and you shook your head. “But now I’ve hurt Satoru. He… he’s so angry with me. I don’t even know how to fix this.”

She sighed softly, her grip on your hand tightening slightly. “Listen to me, dear. Voicing your uncertainty was not a mistake. It’s far better to be honest about your feelings than to make a choice you might regret.”

You wiped at your tears. Her words were comforting, but they were not enough to ease the ache in your chest.

“But what if I choose wrong? What if I lose everything?”

She stood then, moving to sit beside you. She wrapped an arm around your shoulders, holding you, and you took this moment to let it all out. You cried on her shoulder, staining her dress, but she didn’t care. She merely held you and let you cry and scream all you wanted.

“If you choose to marry into the Zenin clan, I won’t stop you. But make sure it’s truly what you want. Not what they want, not what Naoya wants. What you want.” You clung to her, your tears soaking into her sleeve. “As for Satoru…” she smiled faintly. “He’s stubborn, but he’ll come around. He just needs to be reminded that he’s not losing you.”

The school courtyard was quiet that morning. The winter night had forced most of the kids to stay indoors, and the chilly effect of the weather had perhaps drowned out their usual noise. You were lost in thought, replaying the events of the previous evening, when Maki appeared in front of you.

Her stance was confident as always, but her eyes betrayed her. They were rimmed with red, and her face was pale with exhaustion.

“We need to talk.”

“What?”

“I said we need to talk.”

You shrugged and nodded, signalling her to begin speaking.

She took a deep breath in. “Don’t do it. Don’t marry into the Zenin family.” The words came out in a desperate rush.

“Maki, I—”

“You don’t understand. They’ll destroy you. They’ll take everything good about you and crush it until there’s nothing left.”

Her hands were clenched into fists, trembling at her sides. You reached out to touch her arm, but she pulled away.

“I’ve seen it. I’ve lived it. The way they treat women, like we’re nothing but tools. They’ll smile to your face and stab you in the back the moment you’re no longer useful.” Her voice cracked, and she stopped, her back to you.

You called her gently. “Maki…”

She turned to face you, tears spilling down her cheeks despite her obvious effort to hold them back. “You’re stronger than me, I know that. But they’ll find a way to break you too. Please… don’t let them.”

The raw emotion in her voice shattered something inside you. You stepped forward and wrapped your arms around her, holding her tightly as she cried into your shoulder.

“I’m so sorry, Maki,” you whispered to her. “For everything they’ve done to you."

She clung to you for a moment before pulling back, wiping at her tears furiously. “Just promise me you’ll think about it. Don’t let them win.”

You nodded, your throat too tight to speak. As you watched her walk away, shoulders hunched against the weight of her past, you couldn’t help but wonder what horrors this brave girl had endured — and what kind of future awaited her if she stayed under the Zenin family’s thumb.

──── ୨ৎ ────

“What the hell are they doing here?” you whisper-screamed to your  mother. Your voice was trembling despite your attempt to sound composed.

The last time the Kamo clan had graced the Gojo estate with their presence, it ended disastrously. More than that, he was here — the face of your nightmares, the man who had haunted your memories for over a decade.

You clenched your hands in your lap, nails biting into your palms as you stared down at the tatami mat, praying for this to be over. But no prayer could save you now. Not when you were practically being forced to bow in front of Kamo Daijiro, the man who had shattered your childhood before it had even begun.

Kamo Daijiro grinned wickedly as he took his seat, his wife Lady Akane and his daughter trailing behind like his shadows. His voice was oily and smug as he broke the silence.

“Ah, the Gojo family. Always full of surprises, aren’t we?” He said mockingly. “First, a marriage proposal with my daughter, Alina, rejected outright by your mother. What a waste of time, huh?”

The room seemed to blur around you. His words faded, replaced by the echoes of the past: the cold stone walls of the basement, the suffocating darkness, the metallic clink of chains binding your wrists.

“Stay quiet,” his voice whispered in your memory. You could feel his hand gripping your arm, dragging you down those steps into hell. Your chest tightened. You blinked rapidly, trying to ground yourself, but his next words yanked you back into the present.

“And now, of course, the Zenin proposal with you.” His gaze landed on you sharply his lips twisting into a cruel smirk. “Two rejected proposals. Not every family is lucky enough to fail so spectacularly, hmm?”

Your heart pounded painfully, the edges of your vision going white. The scars on your fingertips throbbed — perhaps from the rough stones you had used to carve evidences of your torture on the walls of the Kamo estate.

“Sell her,” his voice echoed in your mind. “She’ll fetch a good price.”

The memory hit you like a punch to the gut. You were three years old, crying for your mother, and he was laughing. Laughing as strangers examined you like a product, bartering for your life.

Why did you remember the worst moments of your life?

Satoru’s — no, your mother’s voice broke through the haze. “Speak something sensible or leave, Kamo.” Her words were firm, but you could hear the strain in her voice. She was trying to protect you, but she seemed to realize that even she couldn’t erase the ghosts of the past from your mind.

Kamo Daijiro tilted his head, feigning politeness as he bowed slightly. “Ah, but you should be made aware of what you’ve caused, Lady Gojo. Two lives ruined because of a stupid fantasy between your kids.”

“Enough, Daijiro,” said Satoru’s father.

You blinked, startled by the unexpected intervention. Satoru’s father rarely spoke, let alone in defense of his family. Wasn’t he the one hellbent on getting Satoru married just a few years ago? Perhaps his time in isolation in his room made him realize his mistake. 

“Let me remind you that the Gojo family does not bend to the whims of the Kamo Clan. We never have and never will. So whatever you think, we do not care. Yet you cannot stand here under our roof and speak that way about us, Kamo. Leave.”

Daijiro’s smirk faltered,. The confidence in his posture waned for a fraction of a second. But that moment was enough for you to breathe again. Your mother’s hand slipped over yours under the table, grounding you back to reality, your present away from the horrors of your past.

As Daijiro stood to leave, he glanced at you one last time. His eyes gleaming with a twisted satisfaction.

“You’ll never escape me, little one.”

Beat.

Did he know?

The Kamo family took their leave, but one pair of eyes lingered. Kamo Alina.

She hadn’t said a word throughout her father’s tirade, but now her gaze bore into you, there was something haunted in her expression, something that wasn’t there three years ago when she had tried to charm Satoru out from under your nose.

You didn’t trust it one bit.

You found yourself alone in the garden after the fiasco from earlier. The crisp air nipped at your skin, but it wasn’t enough to shake the phantom memories of The Kamos’ voices echoing in your mind.

A soft rustle behind you made you turn. Alina stood there, her posture hesitant. That was new — gone was the confident, smug girl who used to mock you mercilessly as a child.

“You don’t have the Gojo surname.”

It wasn’t a question. Her tone was quiet, almost confused.

You stiffened, your fingers curling into the fabric of your sleeves. “Why does it matter?”

Her lips pressed into a thin line, and she stepped closer, her hands wringing nervously. “It’s just... strange. You’ve lived with them for so long, haven’t you? And you were even engaged to… you know. Shouldn’t you have their name by now?”

The words cut deeper than you expected. You knew why you didn’t have their name. Why Lady Gojo had never officially adopted you despite raising you like her own. Because your past was a stain that no amount of time could wash away, and your future a fate you wanted to live.

But you didn’t say that. Not to Alina. Not to anyone.

Instead, you crossed your arms, forcing a smirk. “Why do you care? Planning to make fun of me again, like when we were kids?”

Her expression faltered, and for the first time, you saw something genuine in her eyes. Regret. “I…” she paused. “I’m not here to make fun of you.”

You blinked, caught off guard by her tone. It wasn’t what you expected, and that unsettled you more than anything else.

“I just... I don’t understand. Why aren’t you proud to be a Gojo? To have a family like that?”

Because I’m not one of them.

Not yet, anyway, a voice in your head hoped.

But you didn’t say that either. Instead, you looked away, your voice colder than you intended. “You wouldn’t understand.”

She flinched like you had just yelled at her, and her hands dropped to her sides.

Yet, you couldn’t shake the feeling that she might understand, more than you gave her credit for. Because for all her faults, she wasn’t Kamo Daijiro. Or Kamo Akane. Or those auctioners. She wasn’t the one who had abandoned you, sold you off, abused you like you were a piece of meat.

And then it hit you. The thought that had been nagging at the back of your mind ever since you saw her face.

Kamo Akane’s daughter. That was who Alina was. Which made her...

Your half-sister.

The realization made your stomach drop. Your eyes widened at nothing in particular, and your fingers began shaking.

Sister?

All this time, you never gave a thought about it. But it was so obvious, so clear.

Your blood.

The Kamo blood.

You gulped. No, never. Never the Kamo blood. You didn’t want to be associated with the Kamo clan, not in any way.

“I guess you won’t tell me, will you?” Her voice broke the silence, and you glanced back at her. There was no malice in her expression, no smugness, just confusion.

“No. I won’t,” you responded firmly.

She nodded slowly, her shoulders slumping in defeat. “Maybe I deserve that.”

She turned to leave, and for a moment, you almost stopped her.

Almost.

The Gojo estate was unusually quiet that week since the chaos of the Kamo family’s visit was finally behind you. Yet, you couldn’t sleep at all at night. So you did what you always do. You wandered the halls aimlessly, walking from door to door in search of sleep.

You paused outside the study, hearing low voices.

“...I know I failed you, Satoru.”

Your breath caught. That was Satoru’s father.

“I was so focused on the family, on tradition,” his father continued with regret. “I thought I was protecting you, ensuring our legacy would thrive. But all I did was push you toward a life you didn’t want. A life you didn’t deserve.”

Satoru’s response was softer than usual. “You didn’t just push me — you forced my hand. That engagement with Alina... I didn’t even have a say.”

There was a heavy silence.

“I know,” his father finally admitted. “And when your mother stood there and defied me... I hated myself for it. Because deep down, I knew she was right.”

You inched closer to the door. You know you shouldn’t be eavesdropping on this intimate conversation between a father and a son, but you knew you would have stayed awake for a couple more hours if you didn’t hear this completely.

His father sighed with a sound that was weary and old. “I wanted to say this to you for a long time. I’m proud of you, Satoru. Not because of what you are, but because of who you are. Strong, stubborn, and a lot like your mother.”

There was a soft chuckle from Satoru, tinged with disbelief. “Like mother? That’s a first.”

His father continued. “I know I have no right to ask for your forgiveness. But I want you to know, I’ll never stand in your way again. Whatever you choose for yourself, for your future... I’ll support it.”

You could hear the emotion in Satoru’s voice, even as he tried to hide it. “That’s all I ever wanted, Dad.”

Another pause, this one heavy with unspoken words.

“I’m sorry it took me this long to figure it out,” his father admitted.

There was the faint sound of movement, and you imagined Satoru standing. “Thanks, old man.”

You pushed open the door to Satoru’s room a few minutes later. You didn’t expect him to be present there, obviously. He might still be with his father, and you didn’t wish to eavesdrop on their conversation anymore.

Satoru’s room was empty, eerily quiet. His desk was tidy, his bed neatly made. Everything was in its place, except him. You sighed, sitting down on the edge of his bed.

For days, the memory of his half-finished confession had haunted you. The way he’d almost spoken, almost revealed just why he had told you those harsh words all those years ago. Almost. Before Naoya cut him off, of course. Why did he do that? Why did he say that? Why had he pushed you away? You clenched your fists, planning to stay there and wait all night if you had to, just to get the answers of those questions that had haunted you all this time.

The sound of the door creaking open jolted you from your thoughts. Relief flooded you, only to freeze when you realized it wasn’t Satoru standing there.

“Who are you?” You immediately asked.

It was a young woman. She was dressed as if she was a servant of the Gojo clan, but you didn’t recognize her.

“I–It’s me, Princess!”

“Tomoko?” you asked, frowning at the maid’s pale, trembling figure. “From the Kamo clan?” Your eyes widened in realization. “What are you doing here?”

“I... I need to tell you something, Princess,” she stammered. Her eyes darted nervously around the room. Her fingers fidgeted with each other. She couldn’t even look you in the eye. What was she hiding? Why was she here anyway? Something was wrong — terribly wrong.

“What is it?” you asked cautiously, standing up.

Tomoko wrung her hands, tears brimming in her eyes. “I... I poisoned Gojo-sama,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “Your father, your highness.”

“What?” The word burst from you like a gunshot. For a moment, you couldn’t breathe. “What the hell are you talking about?”

Tomoko flinched, but she continued, her voice shaking. “I didn’t want to do it. I swear on your greatness, Princess! But I was ordered to — by my clan… The Kamo clan.”

The Kamo clan?

Of course, it’s them.

It’s always them.

Your knees felt weak, and you stumbled, grabbing the bedpost for support. “What poison? How long — how long does he have?”

“It’s a rare poison,” Tomoko said, her voice cracking. “They got it from somewhere and had me— had me seal it in his wine. There is no cure. He has days left. A week, at most, Princess.”

The room spun, and anger surged through you. “You poisoned him, and you’re only telling me now?”

“I didn’t have a choice!” Tomoko wailed, falling to her knees. “They threatened my family. And— and me too! If I didn’t do it, they said they’d kill us. I— I’m so sorry.”

“Sorry?” Your voice rose, trembling with fury. “Oh, you’re sorry? And what the fuck do you expect me to say?” She gasped at your choice of words. “You expect me to forgive you for poisoning someone? For poisoning my fucking father?”

“I didn’t know what else to do!” she sobbed, her hands clutching at her chest. “Please, I can’t live with this guilt.”

You stared at her, your hands shaking, your mind racing. Satoru’s father, the man who had finally begun to reconcile with his son, finally, finally begun to relive and make up for all the wasted time, was dying.

And the Kamo clan was behind it.

They had already torn your life apart when you were a child. And now they were doing it again.

Why couldn’t they just leave you alone?

“Get out,” you said, your voice low trembling with barely contained rage.

Tomoko looked up at you, startled. “But—”

“Get out,” you repeated, louder this time. “And don’t ever show your face here again.”

“Please, I—”

“Leave!” you screamed, your voice breaking. “You will only get killed here — by my soldiers or by my hands!”

Tomoko scrambled to her feet, stumbling toward the door. She hesitated for a moment, as if she wanted to say something else, but the fury in your eyes made her think better of it. She fled the room. The door slammed shut behind her.

For a moment, you just stood there, your breaths coming in short, ragged gasps. Then, slowly, you sank onto the bed, burying your face in your hands. Tears stung your eyes, but you refused to let them fall. Not yet. Not until you figured out what to do.

Because another piece of your newfound life was tearing, and no amount of rage or despair could change that.

──── ୨ৎ ────

Ever since that night, you had been hoping, praying even, that whatever Tomoko had said that day was false. That your father was perfectly healthy, and he’d live a long life. But Satoru noticed how his father would stumble on his steps at times. Your mother noticed her husband’s loss of appetite. And overtime, as this worsened, you couldn’t deny it anymore.

Your father was dying.

And that was going to break you.

You hadn’t spoken a word about it to anyone. You should, you knew that. But how? Mother was always too busy fussing over him. Satoru had been avoiding you since that night with Naoya. How were you supposed to say a word?

The hallway outside Satoru’s parents’ room was dimly lit. They had begun sharing rooms again, and you wanted to be happy for them. But this would only go on for about five days longer, you thought ominously. You stood awkwardly near the door, waiting for your mother to emerge. Inside, you could hear her fussing over her husband tenderly.

“Stay in bed, please. The tea is still warm — I’ll bring it to you.” “I’m fine, love,” he replied weakly. “You’re the one who needs rest.”

There was a muffled sound of her setting something on a table, and then footsteps. she opened the door, stepping out into the hallway. She startled slightly at the sight of you, but her face quickly softened when she realized it was you.

“Are you waiting for Satoru? He’s not back yet,” she said, smoothing her sleeves. “No, I—” Your throat felt tight, and you took a moment to gather your courage. “Mother, I need to tell you something.”

Her eyes narrowed slightly in concern, and she gestured for you to follow her into the small sitting room across the hall. She sat gracefully, folding her hands in her lap. You tumbled into your seat, taking a deep breath.

“It’s about Father,” you begin hesitantly.

“What about him?”

“I… I know what happened to him,” you said cryptically. She raised an eyebrow at you, gesturing for you to continue. “One of the Kamo maids, Tomoko… She stayed back after the leaders had left and disguised herself as one of ours. And she told me. That she had poiso—”

“Enough,” she held up a hand to stop you, and you flinched. For a moment, her expression didn’t change. Then she closed her eyes and let out a long, quiet sigh. “I know,” she said softly.

The admission took you aback. “You... you know?”

She nodded, her fingers tightening briefly around the fabric of her kimono. “He told me as soon as he realized. In the past two days, we’ve consulted every healer, every remedy. There’s nothing… nothing that can be done now.” Her voice trembled just slightly, and she pressed her lips together to steady herself.

“Mother,” you whisper.

She waved a hand dismissively, but her eyes glistened with unshed tears. “I should apologize to you for allowing the Kamo clan to enter our lives. I couldn’t protect my family as I should have. I’m a terrible mother.”

You shook your head vehemently. “You’re the best. The best mother and the best leader. And everything else you are.”

“Thank you, darling.” You could see the strain in the smile she gave you, and she looked older in the candlelight.

“But what do we do now?”

Lady Gojo exhaled, leaning back slightly. “Now, my only concern is making his last days as peaceful as possible. If Satoru were to find out...” Her voice broke for a moment, and she looked away as if to compose herself. “It would destroy him,” she continued. “He’s been through too much already. I won’t let this pain touch him — not yet.”

You felt a lump forming in your throat at her last words. “What can I do?”

She smiled faintly, though it didn't reach her eyes. “Just be there for him. When the time comes, he’ll need you more than ever.”

You were pacing outside the garden. Every step crunched against the gravel path. Your thoughts were swirling with your mother’s confession, and her desire to keep it a secret from Satoru. But the last time you had kept something a secret from him, it had resulted in the loss of three years from your life. You couldn’t let that happen again.

But could you disobey your mother? So you had been doing the best thing you could possibly do in that situation — avoiding Satoru all day. But apparently, that wasn’t enough.

“Hey,” his voice startled you as he appeared seemingly out of nowhere. “What’s going on with you?”

You whirled around, clutching your chest. “W-What do you mean?”

He squinted at you, crossing his arms. “This!” He said, as if that explained everything. “You’ve been acting weird. Stuttering, avoiding eye contact, mumbling when you talk to me. That’s not like you at all.”

You forced out a laugh, waving your hand dismissively. “Oh, come on. You’re imagining things.”

Satoru took a step closer. “Don’t lie to me.”

You panicked and shouted. “I’m not lying!”

He narrowed his eyes in frustration. “You can’t even say that without stuttering.” Then he sighed. “Alright, tell me. What’s going on?”

“If you think of me as your sister were all the moments we spent together false or am I overthinking?” You blurted out.

Satoru froze, caught off guard. For a moment, the only sound between the two of you was the rustling of leaves in the evening breeze.

“What?”

“Three years ago,” you pressed, your voice trembling slightly. “At the Kamo meeting. You called me your sister after they had brought up—”

“I know what I said,” he cut you off, his jaw tightening. His hands clenched into fists at his sides.

“Then… why?” you whispered, stepping closer. “Why would you say that? Why would you—”

“Naoya,” he spat venomously.

You blinked, utterly confused. “Naoya?”

He let out a bitter laugh, running a hand through his hair. “That bastard. He...” Satoru trailed off, his expression darkening.

“What about Naoya?”

Satoru hesitated, as if weighing whether or not to tell you. Finally, he exhaled sharply. “He said... things. About you. About what he’d… do to you if we, you know, got closer to each other. And I couldn’t let that happen. He was older, definitely experienced and all of that. I didn’t feel like the strongest anymore when I saw him say that.”

Your breath caught, and a cold chill ran down your spine. “Satoru. When did this happen? What did he say to you?”

“Don’t make me say it,” he snapped, but his anger seemed to be directed more towards Naoya than at you. “It happened right around the time you got detention, I still remember. He had told me he didn’t like how we were with each other. And how I was nothing, pathetic. How I could never protect you from… from him. And he had struck a deal with me that day — that he would stop it all if I was able to convince everyone that we couldn’t... that we didn’t...”

“That we didn’t what?” you whispered.

Satoru met your gaze with guilt. “That we didn’t belong together. That you were like a sister to me.”

You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. But he continued.

“And then that day I had found out we were engaged. I was so happy, but also devastated. If that guy didn’t like us then, how would he like it if we got married? So I tried to stop it. Tried to break your heart. Like a coward. Like a fool.”

“Stop it!” You staggered back. “You’re not a coward!”

“Yes I am,” he shook his head. “You don’t understand. I got scared. He was older than me. He knew more. What if he whipped out some charm I didn’t recognize and killed you or something? I’d never be able to forgive myself. Not that I can now either.”

“Satoru—”

“I didn’t deserve the tears you spent on me that time. I didn’t deserve to see you break down. All those times your eyes would brim, my heart would claw at me to stop itself.”

“You don’t mean—” Your eyes widened, and he merely nodded, not looking at you at all.

“I didn’t have a choice,” he said quietly, his shoulders slumping. “But it doesn’t matter now. None of it matters now.”

──── ୨ৎ ────

Satoru’s father’s funeral was held on a chilly afternoon. The air was thick with unspoken grief. The Gojo estate, usually buzzing with life, was eerily quiet. Even the wind seemed reluctant to disturb the solemn atmosphere. The bare branches of trees trembled like fragile fingers.

A sea of black-clad mourners gathered, their heads bowed in respect, but it all felt hollow to you. Each condolence, every whispered prayer, was a reminder of the man who was no longer here, and you couldn’t shake the gnawing guilt in your chest.

You stood off to the side, your hands clasped tightly in front of you, staring at the pristine white casket adorned with lilies. The sight blurred as tears welled in your eyes, but you blinked them away, unwilling to cry in front of so many people. Your grief felt undeserved, selfish even, given the weight of your secret.

You had known about the poison. You knew about the slow and inevitable death of Satoru’s father. You knew, yet you had done nothing, just let it all happen. Could you have stopped it? Could you have saved him? The questions circled in your mind like vultures.

Satoru stood at the front, his back straight. His face seemed like it had been carved from stone. The usual spark in his eyes was gone. It was replaced by a cold emptiness that made your stomach churn. He hadn’t cried, not even once, as far as you knew. You wished he would. You wished that he would let himself grieve, scream, do anything to release the agony he must be feeling. But he was silent, like a statue among the living, and it broke your heart.

The ceremony dragged on. Each passing moment felt heavier than the last. When it finally ended, the crowd began to disperse, murmuring their condolences to Satoru’s mother, who stood like a ghost beside her son. You watched her, too, feeling a pang of sadness at how frail she seemed. 

You wanted to approach Satoru, to say something, anything. But your feet felt rooted to the ground. What could you possibly say that wouldn’t sound as numb as you were feeling? The guilt in your chest tightened its grip, and you turned away, unable to face him.

Back at the estate, the house felt colder than ever. Dinner was a silent affair, just as it had been a few months ago. Because just as the lively chatter had begun to replace the clinking of utensils and the occasional sniffle, it had been snatched away from you.

Satoru’s mother tried to maintain some semblance of normalcy, asking if anyone needed seconds or more tea, but her voice was brittle, and no one answered her with more than a shake of their head. You couldn’t bring yourself to eat, pushing the food around on your plate as you stole glances at Satoru.

He sat across from you, staring blankly at his untouched meal. The shadows under his eyes were darker than ever, and his usually flawless posture was slightly slouched. It was as if the weight of his father’s death had physically pressed down on him. You wanted to reach out, to say something, but the words died in your throat. Instead, you watched in silence as he eventually stood, his chair scraping against the floor, and left the room without a word.

You couldn’t sleep that night. The house was too quiet, the kind of quiet that made every creak of the floorboards and every whisper of the wind feel deafening. You found yourself wandering the halls, your feet carrying you to the room that had once belonged to Satoru’s father. It was untouched, as if he might walk back in at any moment. The faint scent of his cologne lingered in the air, and it made your chest ache.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered into the emptiness, tears streaming down your face. “I’m so, so sorry.”

The days following the funeral were no easier. The once lively Gojo household felt like a mausoleum. Meals were eaten in near silence, and the air was heavy with unspoken grief. You found yourself avoiding Satoru more and more, not because you didn’t want to comfort him, but because you didn’t know how.

One evening, you found yourself in the library, hoping to distract yourself with a book. But the words on the page blurred together, and you couldn’t focus. The guilt was a constant, gnawing presence, and no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t shake it. The image of Satoru’s father lying in his coffin haunted you, and you couldn’t help but wonder if things would have been different if you had acted sooner.

“What are you doing in here?”

You jumped, the book slipping from your hands as you turned to see Satoru standing in the doorway. His hair was slightly disheveled, and his expression was unreadable. You quickly wiped at your eyes, hoping he hadn’t noticed the tears.

“I just needed some quiet,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

He walked into the room, his footsteps soft against the carpet. He picked up the book you had dropped, glancing at the cover before handing it back to you. “Mother’s calling you,” he said, his tone carefully neutral.

“For?” you asked, trying to sound casual.

“Dinner,” he said bluntly. “You haven’t been eating at all.”

You nodded, and he stood up and left without saying another word.

Dinner that night was a solemn affair. The dining room was heavy with silence, broken only by the occasional clinking of chopsticks against plates. Satoru’s face was blank, his appetite long gone. His mother sat at the head of the table. Her posture was perfectly composed. You sat beside her, feeling like an interloper in this world of quiet mourning. A seat was left empty, for whom, you didn’t have to guess.

The ache in your chest was unbearable, but guilt magnified it tenfold. You had been the one to discover the truth, the one who knew about the poison before anyone else. And yet, you had done nothing.

A soft knock on the door broke the oppressive quiet. One of the maids entered, bowing deeply as she held out a folded piece of paper. “Lady Gojo—” she glanced at her, unsure of how to approach her in her desensitized state — “we found this while cleaning the late master’s study. It’s addressed to you, Princess,” she bowed to you.

The maid extended the letter to you, and you accepted it hesitantly. Your heart immediately sank at the sight of your name scrawled in bold, deliberate handwriting. Satoru’s mother nodded at the maid to dismiss her, then at you.

“Read it,” she said softly. “Whatever he’s written, it’s meant for you to hear.”

You unfolded the paper carefully, your hands shaking as you smoothed it out. The opening lines confirmed your suspicion.

“To my dearest child,

If you are reading this, then it means I am no longer among the living. There are matters I could not speak of while alive, and so I leave them here, trusting you to read with an open heart.”

Your voice wavered as you read aloud. Satoru and his mother both watched you intently. 

“In my absence, I leave behind all that I have built, not as burdens, but as tools for you to continue shaping our legacy.

To my wife, the pillar of my strength, I entrust our estate and all its affairs. She has always been my compass, and I know she will guide our family with the same wisdom and grace she has always shown. To my son, Satoru, I leave my knowledge, my pride, and my unwavering belief in your potential. He is destined for greatness, and though I may not be there to see it, I know he will honor the Gojo name with dignity and strength. So I shall also leave our ancestral blade, a symbol of our family’s strength and honor, along with the records of our techniques and histories.”

To you, my dear daughter, I bequeath the east wing of the estate, yours to claim as a sanctuary and a symbol of your place among us. Furthermore, I leave a yearly stipend from the family’s accounts, ensuring you will always have the means to build a life of stability and comfort.”

But then your voice caught, the words ahead freezing in your throat.

The second paragraph shifted abruptly, no longer a formal testament but a recounting of events that made your blood run cold.

“The past few years I had spent alone were ones spent to find the roots of your journey home, here. I know the pain you carry, and the secrets you keep. I know how you came into this world. Kamo Akane, your mother—”

You stopped reading it aloud, and instead your eyes began darting back and forth the lines as you read it in your head.

Kamo Akane, your mother, made the impossible choice to keep you despite everything she endured. She bore you with strength, but her circumstances were cruel. Kamo Daijiro never accepted you, and he made sure she couldn’t either. When you were only three years old, they both agreed to sell you to the traders of Mizuho.

Your breath hitched. The paper in your hands crinkled as your grip tightened. You couldn’t read further. The memories you had buried deep threatened to overwhelm you. The cold basement. The chains. The voices. The pain.

“What is it?” Satoru asked with concern. “Why did you stop?”

You shook your head, unable to meet his gaze. “It’s nothing.”

“That’s a lie,” he said flatly.

You tried to fold the letter, to hide it away, but your trembling hands betrayed you. Satoru reached out, his fingers brushing against yours as he snatched the paper. “If you won’t read it, I will.”

“No!” you protested, but it was too late. His eyes scanned the words quickly, his expression darkening with each passing second. He reached the part about the traders, and his jaw clenched. His hands shook, but he didn’t stop until he reached the final lines.

I knew about the poison. I knew what the Kamo clan had done to me. But this is not a burden you should carry. You have suffered enough, and I do not want you to feel guilt for something beyond your control.

And Satoru.

Satoru’s eyes flicked to you briefly before continuing.

I know you’re reading this as well. You won’t listen even if I told you this letter is meant for her alone. Satoru, please do not fight.

But the word “fight” was blotched with ink. A tear had smudged the letters. Satoru’s hand hovered over the page, and you realized with a sinking heart that the tear was his own.

He folded the letter carefully, setting it down on the table. His movements were unnaturally calm, but you knew better. The storm was brewing.

“Satoru,” you said hesitantly. “Please don’t—”

He stood abruptly, his chair scraping loudly against the floor. “Mother.” His voice was tight, barely restrained. “May I have your permission?”

“Satoru!”

Satoru’s mother regarded him for a long moment. Her gaze flicked to you, then back to her son. Finally, she nodded. “Do what you must. But remember, no harm is to come to the Gojo clan’s reputation.”

He bowed deeply, his fists clenched at his sides. “Thank you.”

“What?” You stood, panic rising. “You can’t just let him go! This isn’t—”

Satoru’s mother silenced you with a look. “He deserves his revenge.”

You stared at her, incredulous. “Revenge won’t bring him back! It won’t fix anything!”

Satoru didn’t wait to hear more. He left the room, his footsteps echoing down the hall. You called after him, your voice breaking, but he didn’t look back. The door slammed shut behind him, leaving you and his mother alone in suffocating silence.

“How can you…?” you began, your voice trembling with anger and disbelief. “How can you let him do this?”

Her expression softened, but her resolve remained. “Because I know my son. And I know he won’t find peace until he has faced this head-on.”

You sank back into your chair, your hands clutching at your chest as though to hold your breaking heart together. The letter lay between you and Lady Gojo, as if to remind you of everything you had both lost and everything that was yet to come.

──── ୨ৎ ────

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[lucyrose191]

BROKEN DECISIONS: HEALING| T.WOLFF

Pairing; Toto Wolff x fem!Schumacher!reader

Summary; You had learned to channel the pain from Toto’s actions into the need to protect and love your child. You were healing but will that be affected by Toto finding out the reason you suddenly disappeared?

Warnings; Age gap mentioned but not specified. Fluff.

Author’s Note; I know I said I’d post a Seb fic before this but this was so much easier to write and I had a lot more motivation for this. Possibly a part 3 if you want.

F1 Master List, Part 1

September 2024

The pain that had consumed you so overwhelmingly all those months ago had seemingly disappeared as you stared down at your daughter who lay in your lap, eyes closed as she slept peacefully, subtle puffs of air released as her chest raised every few seconds.

The thick tufts of bright white hair that sprouted from her head marked that little Alina Elisabeth was most certainly a Schumacher.

Maybe you should feel guilty for the relief that settled in you at the lack of resemblance she shared with her father but the love you felt in your heart as you stared down at the person you cared the most for in this world shrouded any negative emotion you could possibly feel.

The loneliness you had felt was also no longer lingering in your chest, your family had been your rock since the moment you arrived in Switzerland, your mother especially. Mick ensured her was there for you too, even though he was busy with the world endurance racing, he made sure he called frequently and tried to visit when he could.

You sent him a photo of his new niece as soon as you could after giving birth to her and he was already besotted and excited to meet her.

The pain from birthing her had also long been forgotten, unlike the memory of holding her for the first time.

It was hard to describe the rush of emotions that were bursting beneath your skin. You would go to hell and back again if just to experience this for the rest of your life, to continue living in this bubble of warmth and completion.

There was the slightest bit of lingering sadness towards the knowledge that Toto hadn’t been by your side yesterday and witnessing his daughter being brought into the world, maybe it was even unfair that he had been robbed of that opportunity but then you remembered how you had tried to tell him the news of your pregnancy before you left and how he refused to listen.

You weren’t going to beg and plead for him to listen to what you had to say, no matter what there news was.

You had a lot more respect for yourself than that.

It didn’t matter anyways, you didn’t need him and you’d ensure that Alina didn’t need him either. You have full confidence in your ability to raise her alone and give her the best life she could possibly have, a life that would provide her with opportunities others could only imagine having.

November 2024

Alina Elisabeth Schumacher was now two months old and each day it felt as though your love for her multiplied.

Even through the rough patches where you seemed lost in knowing what she needed or what was wrong, it didn’t deter you in the slightest. You had smiled more in the last two months than you had in the last ten years and it felt riveting.

Never would you have thought that a child could fill a gap in your life that you didn’t even know existed but here she is and your heart is full.

Your life felt whole and complete and you owed everything to her, to your little girl who had fixed your healing heart without even trying, just by simply existing.

Today was an important day, Mick was coming home after finishing the world endurance season, which he had performed amazingly in, and it was going to be his first time meeting his niece in person.

You had FaceTimed so much in the last few months, Mick hadn’t wanted to miss any part of his niece growing and so every night at around six he’d ring so that he could say goodnight to her, no matter what time is was where he was at.

Alina loved her uncle already.

It was around 2pm when you heard the front door open followed by the sound of bags dropping to the floor and Mick walking into the kitchen.

You didn’t waste any time in wrapping him into a hug. "Hey, how are you?"

Mick tucked his head into the crook of your neck and tightened his arms around you. "I’m great, it was amazing but how are you, are you okay?" He asked, pulling away and holding onto your shoulders as he looked you up and down.

You smiled at him in pure happiness. "I’m amazing, she’s amazing. Come and see her," you told him and grabbed his hand, pulling him upstairs to your room.

Alina was napping which is all she ever did at her young age but you didn’t care if she woke up because the look of awe on Mick’s face as he set his eyes upon her would make it worth it.

"She’s tiny," he whispered, reaching a finger inside the cot and smiling as she wrapped her fist around it. "She looked so much bigger over the phone, she’s beautiful, Y/N, really." He looked up at you and smiled.

"That’s because she takes after me," you smirked and he rolled his eyes, slowly pulling his hand away before turning to you.

"Do Mum and Gina know?" He asked.

You didn’t need him to emphasise, you both knew what he meant, the unspoken topic that neither of you brought up throughout your entire pregnancy and even after.

"No," you replied honestly, swallowing uncomfortably.

"Y/N-" he sighed.

"Don’t," you cut him off. "He didn’t want to know, Mick. He didn’t care and I’m not going to beg him to."

The sympathetic look he gave you in response to the defeated words you spoke filled you with the need to cry but you didn’t.

You simply stood there for a moment before sighing. "I think I’m going to quit."

Mick gave you a look of horror. "What!?" He whisper shouted. "You can’t, you’ve been with Mercedes for nearly a decade!"

You shrugged. "I don’t want to work for him anymore, not when he is adamant on acting as though he didn’t give me the wrong impression, as though I don’t have his daughter at home who he doesn’t know about because he didn’t care enough for me to tell him."

He didn’t say anything, knowing that your point was completely reasonable. He just hoped this didn’t ruin everything you had worked for.

December 2024

You walked side by side with Mick through the pits of the Yas Marina circuit in Abu Dhabi, drawing quite a bit of attention to yourselves, not only because this is the first glimpse anyone has seen of you all year but because of the three month old you held in your arms.

You walked into the Mercedes garage as though you weren’t about to reveal why you hadn’t participated in this season, pretending you didn’t notice how everyone paused what they were doing to stare as soon as you crossed the threshold.

Their stares burned into your skin but none more than Toto’s, you felt the trail his eyes left across your entire body and the way they settled on the sleeping baby in your arms.

You ignored the burning sensation he was leaving on your skin, instead focusing on the mechanics and other team members that were approaching to speak to you and introduce themselves to Alina.

It was around twenty minutes later before you were left alone, Mick took this opportunity to take Alina to go and show her off to anyone who would give him the time of day, you loved how much of a proud uncle he was.

"Can we talk?" His voice was low and gravelly in your ear as he spoke in a hushed whisper, startling you momentarily.

You scoffed and shook your head. "You weren’t up for talking in January, I’m not up for talking now."

"It’s important," he tried to reason and you laughed.

"What I wanted to say was important but you didn’t care, what was important to me wasn’t important to you. It’s not nice being on the receiving end of that, is it?"

You had hit the nail on the head with that one and by the stunned silence Toto was confined into, he knew that as well.

"Please, I know I don’t deserve it but can you please just come and have a civil conversation with me in my office," he pleaded, knowing that he really had no leg to stand on because he was the one that was completely in the wrong.

You wanted to make a comment about how poetic it was that he wanted to go and talk in his office, just how you did all those months ago and yet you had no luck but you didn’t.

You relented and agreed but that did not mean you were going to be easy on him.

You sighed and stood up from your seat, following him to his office.

You refused to speak first as he shut the door which resulted in a thick, heavy silence for a couple of minutes as you both stood there, Toto staring at you whilst your eyes strained on the ground.

"What happened in Abu Dhabi last year-" he started causing you to look up at him, not expecting him to even bring that up considering how certain he was to avoid it before.

"It wasn’t a mistake, I just- I spent two years fighting my feelings for you because you deserve so much more than I am. The baggage I come with- I’m divorced twice and I have kids and I’m so much older than you and you deserve so much more than to be with a man that comes with all that and can’t give you everything."

You stared at him blankly though you were surprised that he had supposedly felt something for you for an entire year before you noticed anything.

"I never thought of you as anything but my boss and a friend but then last year, the way you looked at me and the way you acted, I thought you liked me and it confused me, my mind was baffled the entire season but no matter what you caused me to feel, I fought against it but then with his forward you were in Abu Dhabi, you made me think you actually wanted me and even if you didn’t then that’s fine but what isn’t fine is leading me on with your stares and your touches and then leaving me alone in a hotel the moment I gave in and even after that when I tried to speak with you, you ignored me and dismissed me. Do you know how used and disgusted I felt?"

You knew the look of guilt on his face wasn’t fake but that didn’t change anything, his guilt was nothing compared to what he had put you through.

"I thought I was doing what was best for you," he replied defeated, knowing how pathetic he sounded and how weak his response was.

"I couldn’t look at myself without feeling the urge to throw up after the way you left me there and it was all down to your insecurities which are ridiculous by the way. I can’t believe you think I’d care about how many times you’ve been married or how many kids you have or how old you are, I only ever wanted someone who loved me and treated me right, you could’ve done that but the man that spoke to me in January, I’ve never seen you like that and that man is not someone I would ever be with."

"You didn’t deserve that," he replied in agreement. "I was overwhelmed by the guilt I felt for leaving you there and trying to ignore my feelings for you which I thought were wrong to be feeling but it is not an excuse for the way I spoke or dismissed you, it was wrong of me. I’m sorry."

"I know," you shrugged. "But I don’t forgive you, not right now at least."

Toto shook his head. "I’ll earn your forgiveness." He said confidently.

"Okay." You whispered.

The air between the two of you shifted as Toto looked at you apprehensively, shifting on his feet. "Your baby-" your heart thumped loudly in your chest. "Is she?" He asked, not needing to continue.

You weren’t going to deny the truth and so you replied honestly. "Yes, it’s what I tried telling you in January."

The look of anguish that appeared on his face was heartbreaking to see because you could tell he truly regretted his actions but it was simply the consequences of his decisions, he was still able to make up for it.

"What did you name her?" He asked quietly.

"Alina Elisabeth Schumacher, Elisabeth after my grandmother."

"You chose well…. Could I meet her?" He asked carefully, not wanting to overstep with you but of course you would allow him to see her, not only because your daughter deserved a chance to have a father but because you knew he was a good father and he would’ve been there had you been given the chance to tell him of her.

"I’ll go and get her." You told him, swiftly walking passed him and out of the door.

It was George that happening to be holding her as you re-entered the garage, the man looking up at you with a pleased smile. "Y/N! I’m happy your back, am I getting my beginner back next year?" He asked as he handed her over to you.

You smiled weakly and shrugged your shoulders. "I’m honestly not too sure yet, George but I’ll let you know."

"No worries," he waved you off. "She’s beautiful by the way."

You thanked him before turning away and heading back to Toto’s office.

Alina was wide awake now and her dark eyes were looking around curiously as you walked through the small corridor.

As soon as Toto’s eyes laid upon her you practically saw how he immediately fell in love with her, his eyes softened as they took in her features, probably trying to find anything that resembled himself.

"I think she has your eyes, but that’s about it," you commented lightly causing him to laugh.

He stepped forward and held his hand out for her, smiling and laughing as she reached out and grabbed his finger before shoving it into her mouth.

He looked at her in awe, as if he couldn’t believe she was a part of him. He reached out with his other hand and tickled her cheek with his finger causing her to gurgle around his hand.

"You can hold her," you told him, lifting her out towards him. He looked at you unsurely but you encouraged him with a nod and that was everything he needed to take her into his arms.

Alina threw away her grip on his hand as he held her and instead pressed both of her hands into his cheeks and pressed her face up against his causing you both to burst out into laughter which resulted in her copying you.

"She’s so small," he muttered almost to himself but you heard him.

"She didn’t feel it when I was pushing her out but she does look it," you joked but also serious, it had hurt like hell.

The mention of her birth spiked a sudden interest. "When was she born?" He asked.

"September 3rd, she was two weeks late, didn’t want to leave I suppose so I had to get induced."

He looked at you worried. "You didn’t do it alone, did you?"

You shook your head, "No, don’t worry, my mum was there with me."

"That’s good," he replied, pulling away from Alina’s grabby hands and instead brought her into a hug, resting the side of his head against hers.

God did he look good holding her.

Alina cooed and babbled as she lied her head on his shoulder and reached her hand up to grab his ear and pull on it.

The immediate connection between the two was impossible to miss and it was sad they had both missed out on this but you refused to let yourself feel guilty about it.

"Thank you for this," Toto’s voice broke you out of your thoughts. "I know I don’t deserve it."

You shook your head. "You deserve a relationship with her, no matter what I wouldn’t have kept her from you."

He smiled and tightened his hold on Alina, still struggling to believe she was really his.

He had four kids. Wow.

He did not want to think about how he was going to explain this one to them.

"We should probably go back out there, there’s still a race that’s about to start." You mentioned, hating to break him out of his bubble but he had priorities.

After much coercing, you managed to get him out of his office but he kept his hold on Alina, he didn’t think the team would suspect anything, they probably just thought he wanted to hold her but even if they did have suspicions, he didn’t care.

Everything felt right as he held her, now he just needed to make it up to you and he would do everything needed for you to forgive him because he wanted this, he wanted you and this family you had created, no matter how long it took.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

People who asked to be tagged or asked for a part 2:

@pear-1206 @luckyladycreator2 @urmotheris @lightdragonrayne @viennakarma @woozarts @carolloliveerr @nuggetvirgo @myescapefromthislife @minkyungseokie @oatmealandsugar @hc-dutch @arieltwvdtohamflash @grayxiu @bigsimperika @emilyval1 @eternalharry @msbyjackal

[too-deviant]

The incessant ringing of loneliness (or three weeks part two).

Pairing: Luke Castellan x Apollo!Reader

Summary: Luke is back, officially. But you can’t find it in yourself to be happy about it.

Content: angst, loser!luke makes an appearance, a lil fluff, this one is probably happier than part one

Word Count: 4k

Notes: i can’t thank you guys enough for the love on three weeks :( it really means the world, and i hope you enjoy this one too! i don’t think there’s gonna be a part 3 just because i want the rest of luke and r’s story to be up to your own interpretation - especially since his path to healing is such an important factor and it could go in any way. hope that’s ok with you guys :)

꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷

You weren’t very popular at camp.

Despite the fact that you’d been there for longer than most of its occupants, and that you’d bandaged up some of their gnarlier injuries, you just didn’t have what it took to have people know your name upon first glance.

Clarisse had her unbridled aggression — she scared people into knowing who she was. Charles Beckendorf was the guy you went to when you broke a sword and didn’t want Chiron finding out about it, plus he was six foot six and kinda hard to miss. The Stoll Twins were behind pretty much every crazy scheme that ended up in Hermes losing desert privileges. Luke was…well, he was Luke. Need I say more?

Point is, while everyone knew everyone, not everyone really knew you. They knew your face, your parentage, and your overall skill set. But they didn’t know your name, or what made you tick.

Which was fine, really. You liked the alone time you got in the infirmary when your sister would run out to gossip with her friends in Aphrodite whenever she saw them walk by. You didn’t mind that, when your cabin got their hour of free time each day, your siblings would rush off to their friends and you would simply settle down with a good book.

It’s not as if you were entirely lonely — you had your fellow Apollo kids. You, Alina and Lee bonded especially, being the older kids of the group. So you had them — the only difference was that they had other people, too.

Which, again, was fine.

Except when you started to take care of Luke, you finally felt like you had a person. You looked forward to seeing him after meals each day, and you found excuses to linger in his room whenever possible. Call it odd, but you grew to enjoy the fact that nobody else knew he was back. Because that way, you had him, he had you, and that was that.

But then Luke got better.

You didn’t even have time to worry about it — one minute you were scarfing down your breakfast, eager to bring that second plate up to the Big House, and ignoring the strange looks your siblings sent you. Then in a split moment, everyone was cheering, people were standing and suddenly you didn’t feel so crowded anymore.

You heard murmurs of excitement, but people were practically standing on the table around you — unhygienic, much? People are eating here — and you couldn’t see what they were looking at. You tugged on your brother’s leg and he glanced down at your raised brow, then he said, “Luke’s back!”

It was like you were sucked back in time. No — it was like you were sitting in a waiting room, shivering from the cold breeze that whisked in through the automatic doors. And then the doors closed, and you could release the tension in your body because the warmth was already reaching your fingers — only for someone to walk past and make the doors open again, sending the sharp sting of the cold right back to where it was before.

Yes. That’s what it was — the warmth Luke’s eyes on you had provided was suddenly ripped completely from you the second your brother's words reached your ears. Replaced with the blistering cold of nobody ever knowing your name.

So it was back to normal for you. The normal you had grown accustomed to — the normal you liked. The normal you thought you liked, anyway. 

You didn’t even catch a glimpse of Luke’s face as you stood and left the Pavilion, focusing on the floor beneath your feet rather than the crowd forming around him. Oh, but you couldn’t forget that he was back, it was all anybody could talk about. Once they’d done the math and realised he was the patient you’d been taking care of for three weeks, you locked yourself in your cabin to avoid all the questions, and didn’t see him until the very next day. 

The chatter of Luke’s return had died down when you woke up the next morning — a little later than you usually did, Lee having to shake you so you wouldn’t miss breakfast. You rubbed the sleep out of your eyes and pulled a clean camp shirt over your head, stumbling a little due to the fact that you hadn’t fully woken up yet. 

When you were ready, Lee was waiting by the door. A few of your siblings were still getting themselves into a line after his loud Fall in! had woken them up, so you had time to stretch your arms and let out a sigh once you had taken your place beside him. You and Alina always walked with him to mealtimes, even though neither of you were counsellors, and you greeted her with a smile. 

The air was stuffy again — so much so that even Lee let out a wince when the shining glow of the front door hit his eyes. Then he stepped out of the cabin — his usual routine of checking the garden and cabin for pranks before letting them out coming into play. But he stopped. 

“What?”

He swung his head back at you, brows raised and smile growing, “Luke’s back.”

Out of instinct, you rolled your eyes, “Pretty sure we all know that, already.”

“Yeah, but —“ He turned fully then, hands on the doorframe and grin shining, “He’s back, which means the Hermes kids are finally under control again, which means we don’t have to worry about being pranked first thing in the morning!”

“Holy crap.” Alina was grinning now, both of your siblings looking at you and each-other with this excited expression that made you sort of angry – why are they perceiving Luke? They’re not allowed. 

You huffed a sigh as Lee started to lead the line outside, “He got back yesterday, there’s no way he’s already –”

But he was. As you stepped into the sun, the skin on your thighs already forming an uncomfortable layer of sweat, you looked to where the Hermes cabin was filing out of their door, led by the one and only Luke Castellan. You paused. 

He’d been back a day. Sure, his scar had healed nicely, but it was only three days ago that he was struggling to hold his own in a sword fight – if he was back to his counsellor duties, was he going back to teaching sword fighting? You were unsure he should even be in charge of all those Hermes and unclaimed kids so soon, but going back to teaching only days after coming back to camp? There was no way he was ready for that.

Should you say something? Or would he dismiss you, now that he was done with you?

You watched as he walked with Chris, chatting idly as if nothing was wrong. But you saw Chris glance occasionally at the jagged line through his brother’s eye, and you saw Luke attempt to ignore it. 

Should you say something?

You tripped. You were so busy staring creepily at Luke that you tripped over your own feet and tumbled into Lee’s back. He stumbled slightly but righted himself with a huff and a chuckle, turning and asking if you were alright. 

But you had looked straight back in Luke’s direction – he was still talking to Chris. He wasn’t looking at you. 

He wasn’t your person anymore.

Luke was unsure. 

Which didn’t happen often — as one of the oldest campers, and the one everyone else looked to in times of peril, it was sort of essential for him to be sure. He needed to know what to do, to have a solution for every situation, and to be completely calm about it. Otherwise, camp would go to shit. 

That much was obvious — he didn’t know why you hadn’t told him this in the three weeks you spent together, but camp had turned itself upside down in his absence. Apparently nobody was prepared for him to be gone for so long, and they kind of all lost their shit. 

He was happy to be back, don’t get him wrong. He lit up when he saw his brother’s faces again, when he felt their arms wrap around him. He laughed when Travis joked about thinking he was dead, and when Connor quipped that the camp was seconds away from starting a revolution. He nodded at Chiron, smiled amusedly when Mr D rolled his eyes, he scooped Annabeth into his arms, whispered to her that yes, he was alive, and he let himself be whisked to his table, the crowd following like moths to a flame. 

It was slightly overwhelming, but he was well-equipped to deal with it. He liked the feeling — if he ignored the throbbing on the side of his face, it could be like he’d never even left. The quest never happened, the dragon never happened, and people are just happy to see him because he’s their counsellor. Of course they would be. Everything was fine. 

Everything was fine — so he ignored the urge to scan his eyes across the crowd in search of a familiar head of hair. He stopped himself from glancing at the Apollo table, from looking in Lee’s direction, just in case he wasn’t standing alone. 

Because he didn’t need you anymore. Not that he didn’t appreciate all you did for him, but the healing was done. He was better, he was back at camp — he was Luke Castellan again. If he looked for you, if he met those eyes and returned that smile, it would be admitting defeat. Admitting that he wasn’t better, that he still needed his doctor. 

But he didn’t. Because he was back, baby! And he didn’t need to think about that stupid quest, his stupid dad, or his stupid scar ever again. 

He had a short chat with Chiron, who looked a little uneasy when he expressed his readiness to get back to camp duties. He told him that it was fine if he needed time to settle in, but Luke was firm. He didn’t need to settle, he didn’t need to wait. So Chiron sighed, and told him to escort his cabin to the climbing walls for their morning session. 

And that’s how the rest of the day went — climbing wall, arts and crafts cabin, strawberry fields, archery practice. Luke did it all, just like he used to before he left. If people would just stop looking at his damn scar, maybe he could pretend he never left at all. If they stopped murmuring about him being the secret camper, hidden from them this whole time, he could avoid thinking about you and the sweet touch of your fingers on his face. 

The fact that he hadn’t seen you at all since his return helped him on that front — you weren’t around at breakfast, lunch or dinner. You weren’t in the infirmary whenever he peeked through the windows. You weren’t with the rest of your cabin when they were paired with Hermes for hand-to-hand defence practice. 

Not that he was looking for you, or anything.  

“Hey, man.” Chris clapped him on the shoulder as they walked up to breakfast. It had officially been twenty-four hours since Luke’s return, and the chatter had died down significantly. That was good for him, helped him ignore the fact that he was ever not there. 

All he had to do was keep his eyes off you — who had magically reappeared in camp — as you also walked up to breakfast, the Apollo kids trailing behind you, Lee and Alina. 

“Listen, you did great yesterday.” His brother was saying, and he zoned in on it. “It was like you never left.”

Cool, that was the plan. 

“But it’s sword fighting today.” 

Luke raised a brow, “So?”

“So…” Chris sang, awkwardly waving a hand, “You don’t have to jump right back into training us, is what I’m saying.”

He scoffed, running a hand through us curls, “Nah, bro, I’m good.”

“Are you sure? Because —“

“Y’know, Chris,” Luke sent his brother a cheeky look as they took their seats around the Hermes table, “if you’re scared to get back to my gruelling training sessions, just say that.”

Chris’ face fell, appalled, and he put a hand on his chest, “Scared? Dude, you’re the one who should be scared. I’ve gotten good since you’ve been gone.”

And there it was — a reminder that it wasn’t the same. That he couldn’t pretend he had never left, because nobody else was. Whatever, it’d be fine. A couple of weeks and this would all blow over and he would never have to think about it again. 

The Amphitheatre, unlike the rest of the camp amenities, was familiar to him. He didn’t need to stand and take it all in like he did with everywhere else, because he’d been here not even a week ago with —

No. Stop. You aren’t in his life anymore. He never went on his quest. Everything is how it should be. 

The kids gathered around him were letting off a range of emotions as Luke stood before them, sword in hand. The younger ones were giddy, eager to get back to training with their favourite teacher. Some of the older ones, however, were only slightly confused that he’d bounced back so quickly. If he had to spend three weeks in the Big House before even going outside, was he ready to jump right back into sword training? Maybe he’d go easier on them today, take it slow. 

“Alright — if there’s anything I've learnt over the years, it’s that sword fighting is all about reflexes. So, today, we will be working on y’all’s dodging skills. Oliver, get up here!”

Luke was back on Mount Tamalpais. The fiery breath Ladon was shooting at him seared his skin and burnt holes into his shirt. He was ducking out of the way, but there was no room to breathe when another one of his hundred heads came at him with a fierce snarl. His sword felt useless in his hands, every swing being deflected and every jab proving useless compared to the dragon's swift movements. 

He blinked, and he was back at camp. Sparring with an unclaimed kid who’s name was lost on him. Sweat dripped down his brows but he wiped it away with shaky fingers. He gave an off-handed comment on the kids form before calling a water break. 

“Yo— woah, man!” 

Chris looked wide-eyed at Luke. He had tapped him gently on the shoulder and he had responded with an aggressive swing towards him. He stepped out of the arc just in time, but Luke still dropped the sword like it had burnt him. He stepped back, hands shaking, and stared at the ground. 

It was odd — being at Archery in the mornings. You’d spent three weeks skipping the hour in favour of taking food to Luke and ensuring his dressings were changed. Which for most cabins, was what? Three classes a week? 

Not for the Apollo kids — who have always and will always have their first hour spent on the Archery fields. Mainly because it’s when the sun is rising, shining on them in the early mornings and giving them their power to hit the bullseye. You included, even if healing was more your purview. 

So you’d missed probably around twenty classes, give or take a few. Your form was, well, subpar at best. Lee had to spend the entire hour making sure you didn’t accidentally hit one of your siblings — and that was after he had to re-teach you the basics. 

You probably would’ve been better had you not been so distracted — your mind whirring with thoughts of Luke. You wished your brain would just leave it alone, but apparently you weren’t done mulling over the situation. You wanted to slap yourself across the face and say hey, idiot. The three weeks is up, he’s healed. It’s over. But your siblings would probably look at you weird, so you decided against it. 

Instead, you threw yourself into your duties. Archery was a bump in the road, but now you were smooth sailing. You didn’t focus on anything else but what you had to do that day — not taking a moment to breathe because if you did that, you’d start thinking about Castellan again. You didn’t want that, you really didn’t want that. 

It was going really well, too. But then Chiron just had to interrupt your canoeing session, asking you to clear out any medical supplies you left over in the spare room of the Big House since nobody was staying there anymore.

Oh, great. You were thinking about him again. 

And then all the thoughts you’d been suppressing since ten in the morning were overflowing your head, and you thought you might have had to ask Mr D if you were going mad because when you cracked open the door and peeked your head in, Luke was sitting on the edge of the bed like usual and you had to blink to make the hallucination go away. 

Except it didn’t go away. Instead it looked at you and smiled, “Hi.”

Your lips parted, and you stepped in. Your eyebrows curved in on themselves, “Uh, hey. What are you…”

You were still about seventy percent sure that he wasn’t real, but nobody was there to listen to you talk to air, so you replied anyway. Luke clicked his tongue, let out a chuckle, then sighed, “I don’t think I can do it.”

Okay, fifty percent sure. 

“Do what?”

“Go back out there.” He gestured a hand to the window that pointed outside, although it was still covered with the curtain. “I thought…I dunno, I guess I got too excited yesterday. Thought I was ready to jump back into it.”

You stepped fully through the threshold, and he followed you with his eyes as you walked over to the desk. Nothing but a few spare bandages that you scooped into your arms before looking back at him. You tilted your head, “Healing isn’t linear. It’s perfectly normal to feel like you’re on top of the world one day and then like it’s crumbling around you the next.”

He stood, walked over to you. Thirty percent. 

“I don’t want to disappoint them.” 

“You won't.” You shook your head, “You made a big step, coming back to camp. That's it for now, you don’t need to take any more big steps for a while.”

He nodded, “No more big steps.”

“Not until you’re ready.”

Luke’s hands reached out, taking the bandages from where you cradled them to your chest. He put them back onto the desk behind you. Ten percent. 

His eyes bore into yours, “I don’t think I’m done healing.”

You shook your head surely, “I don’t think you are, either. And that’s okay.” 

He nodded, lips clicking when he parted them, “Which means you’re not allowed to leave me yet. You have to stay with me until I’m fully better.”

You shook your head then, stammering, “It’s — that’s not how it works. What you went through, it — you might not ever be fully better.” 

But Luke just nodded like he knew that already, taking a step closer, “I think I’m okay with that.”

“Oh.” You didn’t know what else to say. What the hell do you say to that? “Okay.”

He nodded, pressing his lips together, “So you’re not gonna leave me.”

Five percent.

A shake of your head, “Not until you ask me to.”

“Good.”

He wrapped his arms around you, and you froze. Okay, he was real. He was really there. You were sure. You hugged him back — he buried his face into your neck and whispered something about you never leaving him again and you whispered something in return about how you wouldn’t dream of it.

So, apparently, you severely underestimated what it was like to be friends with Luke.

You’d thought about it — of course you had. You would imagine what perfect golden boy Luke Castellan was like when he didn’t have to be a perfect golden boy. When he could just be a boy, hanging out with his friends like a normal person would. What jokes did he tell? Did he still keep up that Luke Castellan Grin or did he relax into an easy smirk? Did he make his friends follow the rules even when they were alone? Did he follow the rules when he was alone?

You wondered, although you never thought you’d actually find out. But he’d made it clear you were never leaving his side so long as he still needed you — and he was sticking to that. Firmly.

The summer sun was hot on your back — only this time your dad seemed to be going easy on you, as you weren’t completely uncomfortable under the warm cotton of your camp shirt. You still wafted it every now and then, proving some cool air to your chest, but overall you were feeling good.

You walked into the Amphitheatre with the rest of your siblings — who were less than amused that, despite Luke’s return to camp, Tyler P from the Hephaestus cabin was still running sword fighting practice. They heaved themselves onto the tiered seats with dramatic groans, but he simply grinned at them.

You paused from where you were about to sit down next to Alina when a waving hand caught your peripheral. It was Luke, tucked into the very top corner of the steps, smiling at you from the shadows.

“What the hell are you doing?” You asked when you reached him, raising your brow in amusement. He patted the spot next to him and you sat down, just as Tyler began to talk. Luke leaned in.

“I’m watching.” He muttered into your ear, then he smirked at you, “You can’t stop me from doing that.”

“I wasn’t going to.” You murmured, leaning back on your elbows and watching as your siblings paired up reluctantly. “Thanks for pulling me away, though. Gives me an excuse not to take part.”

Luke huffed a laugh, “He can’t be that bad, right?”

“Just you wait.” You smirked.

Turns out, Tyler was that bad. Every ‘new skill’ he tried to teach them either (a) they already knew, something Luke liked to whisper at you with a shake of his head, or (b) he couldn’t even do it himself, let alone teach others how to. Another thing Luke commented on from where he sat beside you, hands aching to get in there and show him what was what.

“Just one tip, and then I’ll go.” He begged under his breath as Tyler dropped his sword for the umpteenth time. “Please.”

“No.” You didn’t even look at him, “Because one tip turns into a demonstration. And a —“

“— a demonstration turns into a class, yeah yeah.” He rolled his eyes, but you just grinned at him. He smiled, “You’re mean.”

“I know.” You said in a faux-sympathetic tone. You pouted at him, “I’m just so cruel, aren’t I?”

His eyes narrowed, and his mouth stretched into a disbelieving grin, “Damn, doc. What happened to you?”

You scoffed amusedly, “You did.”

His mouth dropped open and you smiled, looking away. He poked your side and you shuffled away with a giggle, attempting to ignore his riled up smile. He didn’t relent, for every inch you moved away from him, he scooted right back towards you. You looked at him with a narrowed gaze, “I miss when you were too miserable to talk to me.”

“No you don’t.” He shook his head. He was right, you didn’t.

He let out a slow breath through his nose, and you felt it on your face. That was when you realised how close your faces were — mere centimetres apart. You swallowed thickly, but you didn’t move away. Luke’s smile stretched, and his hand began to inch up your arm.

You squinted, “What are you doing?”

It was his turn to feign confusion, pulling his lips into the same pout you did only moments earlier, “What are you talking about?”

His hand was at your elbow now, sliding higher. You shook your head, a minute movement, “Doctor Patient Fraternising isn’t allowed.”

He gasped, pulling his hand back in favour of placing it dramatically against his chest, “It’s not?”

“Nope.” You grinned amusedly, “Sorry.”

“Damn.” He leaned back, glancing at you for a second before looking back towards Tyler’s shitshow of a sword lesson, “Guess I’ll have to get another doctor.”

You snorted, “You’re a loser.”

You stood up and went to rejoin your siblings, and Luke shouted after you, “I’m your loser!”

“What was that?” Lee asked when you stopped beside him.

“What? Oh,” You glanced back at where Luke was sat, and he averted his gaze from where he had been looking at you. You looked up at your brother, “He’s just happy to be back, is all.”

He chuckled, “Sure.”

Whatever. He was your person again and Lee could suck your dick if he had anything to say about it.

🏷️ @aceofswordsandarrows @cowsandcomics @number-onekidqueen @kestisvrse @m00ng4z3r @mischiefmoons @how2besalty @iinlovewithfictionalppl @lilacspider @l0ve-dov3 @coffi-cake @ironmanbaldes @onecojg @hiraethavis @freaking0utficrecs @delphifarms @wildlyfreemoon @candylandy8173 @sinnercry @featherofthecrow @babellucci @telliette @totallynotnic

[aeristudios]

F.U.C.K.

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: ex!bf Seungcheol x fem!reader

𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: angst, smut, small fluff, lovers to exes au, 18+

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: 3.1k

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: You've been on and off forever and you couldn't leave him alone if you tried. You have an itch only Seungcheol can scratch.

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: unprotected sex, oral, missionary, riding, praise, dirty talk, creampie, clit stim, multiple orgasms, a bit of overstimulation, Coups is a lover boi, angsty feelings about the relationship

𝐀𝐍: Thank youuuuu @hobeemin & @wongyuseokie for reading this for me and Beezy you are the best hype woman ever <3. Also thank you @aaagustd for making this sexy ass banner 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭: 💿 F.U.C.K- Victoria Monet, Dirty Dancer- Orion Sun, Idea 686- Jayla Darden, Strings- iyla, Behind- Woodz, Forgive Me- Chloe x Halle, Art- Tyla, I Could Imagine- Alina Baraz, Good& Plenty- Alex Isley, Masego and Jack Dine, Skin Tight- Ravyn Lenae Steve Lacy, Idea 683- Jayla Darden, Body and Soul- Emotional Oranges and Biig Piig, Butterflies- Tyla, Between Us- Alina Baraz, Nasty- Tinashe, Under The Moon - Alex Isley, Jack Dine (spotify)

It’s complicated. Your Facebook relationship status has been that way for over a year. If someone asked, you wouldn’t know how to define your relationship with Seungcheol. You can’t say you’re just friends when the love is still there, but you can’t stay together longer to just work. Something happens, and you argue and split up. Months, sometimes years, can go by, and you feel like you’ve finally moved on, but all he has to do is call, or you have an itch that needs scratching, and there he is, ready to make it go away.

He stands there in front of you, his dark hair clipped and trimmed perfectly, highlighting the handsome features on his face: his dark, round eyes, high cheekbones, and plump pink lips. He comes dressed in a simple white tee and sweats, with an overnight bag in hand, as he knows he is staying the night. Seungcheol smirked as he walked in, placing a small kiss on your temple. 

“Well, hello to you too,” you say, shutting the door behind you. You watch him take off his shoes, walk into your living room, and admire the view of the city through your picture windows. You just moved into your high-rise condo a couple of months ago, and your job promotion allows you to level up in life and enjoy nice things for once. Your place looks straight out of a movie, with your tastes added. Your favorite color is blue, and you included it in your decor. 

“You kept the couch?” Seungcheol points at the royal blue sectional sofa with matching gold-trimmed throw pillows you bought from your favorite thrift store. “Yes,” you say proudly. “That couch is my pride and joy. We’ve been through a lot together.” Memories about the many times you spent together on the couch, clothed and unclothed, cloud your mind. He chuckles as you sashay to the kitchen, grabbing a bottled water. You offer him one, and he shakes his head, returning his attention to the city's shining lights. He’s been in your life for five years, meeting at a grocery store with both of your hands on the last bag of cherries. He relented, letting you have them in exchange for your number. You didn’t give it to him, hoping that you would see him again. At the time, you just moved to the city, and if you were meant to meet again, you would give him your number. A couple of weeks later, you did when you went to a birthday dinner with your former roommate. His eyes twinkled when you exchanged glances, and you felt like it was fate.  “You did it,” he felicitates you. “You did everything we talked about doing all those years ago. I’m proud of you.”

You would have late nights with him in your shitty old apartment, eating Chinese takeout in bed and talking about your hopes for the future. Seungcheol wanted to have it all: a nice house, cars, and riches beyond his dreams. All you wanted was a good life. You grew up poor, raised by a single mom who worked two jobs to ensure you had a roof over your head. You understood each other in that way, and it worked between you two for a while… until it didn’t.

“You got your high rise before me,” you appear beside him. “What does it feel like, being the top broker in your firm?”

“It’s nice,” he nods. “It keeps me busy.”

You knew that all too well. One of the reasons you broke up was time. His work felt more important than maintaining a relationship with you. You swear if someone called in the middle of the night, he would answer in a heartbeat. It’s not like you aren’t busy; you work on Wall Street. But you still made time to be with him at all important events and when it mattered most. The energy wasn’t reciprocated.

“I see nothing has changed,” you say, taking a swig of your water.

“Yeah,” he mumbles. “I think I am ready for it, though.”

“Are you now?”

“Yeah. There is no point in having all of this if there is no one to share it with, right?”

You didn’t have to say anything back because he was right. What is the point of working hard, making more money than your parents could ever dream of, traveling, and having life experiences without having someone to share them with? It also incredibly frustrates you. Why did it take five years for him to get to this point? The back and forth, blocking each other on all accounts. Was it worth it?

You two are silent, watching the city lights twinkle in the distance. His fingers slip in between yours, pulling you closer to him. Just being near him makes your heart skip several beats. No one like him can melt you just by his touch and presence. Yes, he can irritate you to no end, but he also makes your soul smile.

“I missed you,” he says, gazing at you. 

“I know.” 

You kiss him, the magic stirring in your chest as he returns your feelings; sparks all around you two like fireworks. Your hands explore him fervently, pulling off his shirt and throwing it on your couch. He unhooks your bra, helping you out of your shirt and exposing your breasts. He bites his lip as he palms his growing bulge, the very thought of his lips all over you making you hot.

“You’re beautiful,” he whispers. 

You take his hand and guide him to your bedroom, climbing over your king-size bed. He follows you closely, his index finger sliding up your thigh. It feels electric, having him touch you again after so long. You have tried moving on, going on dates, and having one-night stands here and there. But deep down, those people weren’t him. Seungcheol knows your body, what makes you tick, your boundaries, and what drives you crazy. It’s exhausting trying to find that chemistry with someone else. Too bad you can’t just make it work. 

He slides your shorts and panties off with one hand, your naked body being illuminated by the moonlight. He notices your sheets, trying to hold it in before succumbing to a belly laugh. 

“Cherry sheets? Really?” He says in between breathes.

“Come on now,” you chuckle. “You know I love my little house on the prairie sheets.” “I swear you were born in the wrong generation,” Seungcheol expresses, brushing his thumb across your cheek. “Yeah, maybe,” you muse over his words. “I’m glad I met you in this lifetime, though.” He admires you, his thumb caressing your cheek before he kisses you again. This time, it’s more heartfelt, your bodies hungry for another as each minute passes. His hand travels down to your inner thighs, spreading your legs apart and slowly entering a digit into your wet core. Seungcheol licks his lips, watching your eyes roll back as you unravel his arms. “Shit,” you moan. “Keep doing it just like that.”

“I’m going to do more than that,” he whispers in your ear. 

Seungcheol was already great with his fingers, slipping one more in you as his tongue played in circles on your neck, your sweet-smelling perfume intoxicating to him. He loves the way your brows furrow when he goes deep, your mind focused on nothing else but cumming all over his hand. You play with your clit, drunk on the pleasure he’s giving you, with your wetness pooling onto your sheets. You two are connected in a way, in your own little bubble surrounded by ecstasy.

“Fuck baby,” you pant as pressure builds up in your stomach. “I’m almost there.” He pulls his fingers out of you quickly, snapping you out of your zone, and you whimper in protest. He aggressively pulls down his pants and briefs, revealing his hardened cock already leaking with precum. He slides down to your entrance, his face nose deep in between your legs before he dives in; his tongue attacks your sweet nectar. Sensational couldn't even begin to describe how you feel. He eats you with an enthusiasm that almost makes you laugh despite the deep pleasure he brings you. “You taste better than I remembered,” he mouths. “Cum for me.”

Your body is at its brink, ready to fall, when Seungcheol slips his fingers in, working together with his tongue to make sure you hit that pool of ecstasy. Your hands grip his hair, and your orgasm hits you like cool water on a warm day. You feel him smirk against your thigh, leaving you with lasting, small kisses before lifting his face and revealing your essence on the lower half. You cover your mouth to hold back your giggles, and he rolls his eyes, leaning over and kissing your lips. “I’m not sorry,” you breathe. “You knew what you were doing.”

“You shouldn’t be,” he smirks. “Especially when I’m going to make you do it again.”

Seungcheol lifts your leg, pulling himself back as he rubs his throbbing dick against your entrance. Your eyes grow wide as he taps your sensitive, swollen clit, a mischievous grin on his face. 

“Don’t worry, baby,” he says as if reading your thoughts. “I’m going to start slow.” “You don’t want me to blo—” you start to protest. “No, I’ve waited long enough,” his deep and velvety voice serves as a warning. FUCK.

He enters you inch by inch, stretching you out the way you like, your fingers already gripping the sheets. You look at him through a hazy daze, his focus on burying himself deep inside of you, bringing you a deep satisfaction. You enjoy watching his Adam’s apple shift when he moans, his voice barely audible while he dives into you. You remember the first time you slept together; he had your legs over his shoulder, fucking you long and deep on top of your blue couch at your old place. You both didn’t intend for it to happen that way; you were caught up in the highs of seeing a band you both enjoy, and one thing led to another. His dick is long with a bit of a curve, fitting perfectly like your pussy was molded and made for him. No one has even come close. 

“Give it to me,” you breathe. “Please, I need you bad.” Seungcheol loves it when you beg for it, and he obliges, his thrusts becoming harder, deeper. Maybe it’s because you love him, but he is the sexiest thing you’ve ever seen. The way his hips roll as he snaps into you, watching him come in and out of you with your wetness coating him, turns you on. Your hands grasp his face, your thumb slipping into his mouth as he fucks you silly. You can barely form words in your head, let alone say anything else but “fuck” and “make me cum”. He fucks you in a way that makes you have wet dreams and leaves you with a puddle in your sheets. If he were a Greek god, he would be Eros, the god of love and sex. That’s how bad he has you. “Turn over,” you grit your teeth. You lean up and flip him over, his throbbing cock still inside you as you are on top of him. You let your body take over, riding him while his hands are placed firmly on your breasts. You set the pace, and he follows, a harmonious rhythm between the two of you, your senses heightened to another level. You are on this incredible high, sliding on his shaft while you vigorously play with your clit, ready to cum. “Did you miss this?  He teases you as he grinds harder into you. “Did you miss sitting on this dick until you cum?” You nod fervently, your hand still playing with your clit, and you are ready to explode. 

“Fuck,” he grits his teeth. “I’m close. Let’s come together like we always do.” You erupt, screaming his name while he sloppily pumps into you, his hair sweaty and his succulent lips red from biting. He leans up and kisses you hard, your moans and words of praise swallowed and digested. Whatever you were going to say, he felt it more, your hearts beating in unison powered by your feelings for each other. He talks you through it, helping you come down from your high before he releases his own, spilling into you until he is completely spent. You’ve been on birth control for years, and Seungcheol is the only person you’ve let hit without a condom. It just feels so right with him. You roll off of him, collapsing on your pillow as you try and catch your breath. His breathing is relaxed, and when you gaze at him, his eyes are closed, already half asleep. You attempt to get out of bed, but he grabs your arm, pulling you close to him. 

“Stay,” he kisses your shoulder. “I sleep better when you’re with me.” 

You can’t deny him when he is in this state, pulling on your heartstrings like that. 

“Fine, you win,” you say without much effort. 

Glancing at the time, it’s after 12, and fatigue finally hits you at least. Snuggling into him, you fall into a deep sleep, but not before admitting that you still love him and would do anything for him. 

The sunlight is not kind as it peers through your windows and wakes you up a little after 9. You had forgotten to draw the curtains before you fell asleep, but you didn’t have much energy left after the night you had. You woke him up after three, sucking his cock until he exploded down your throat, and he returned the favor by eating you out until you were ripe from overstimulation. You made such a mess that you had to change your sheets and listen to him teasing you about your “old lady” sheets. Whatever, you liked them.

You rolled over, and Seungcheol was already awake, scrolling through his phone. He notices you and kisses your forehead before removing your blanket and smacking your ass.

“Good morning, beautiful,” he says, leaning back against the headboard.

You chuckle as you get out of bed, grab your silk robe, and walk into the bathroom. You feel sore; last night’s shenanigans are indeed catching up with you. You just want to lay in bed and relax, but you have this nagging feeling in your stomach. You could brush it off and deal with it later, but knowing you, you will overthink, turning it into something it's not. You have to know how he feels.

Finishing up in the bathroom, you leave to find him setting orange juice on your nightstand with a couple of ibuprofen. He is only dressed in his sweats and nothing underneath, your center aching for him despite the tenderness you feel.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, reading your look. You have never had a good poker face.

You sit down on the bed, take your two pills, and wash them down with orange juice. You allow yourself to get your thoughts in order. You're unsure what to say, but you know the conversation needs to be had.

“What are we doing?” you blurt out. “I love you, and you never stopped loving me. Why can’t we just get it right?”

The silence is too deafening for your liking. It would be like you to tear the band-aid off first thing in the morning. But you hate being in the dark, not knowing what the future will hold. You’re not saying that you have to jump the broom, but you have to know if there’s any chance he feels the same way you do.

“I-I-m sorry,” you shake your head. “I shouldn’t have sprung that on you first thing in the morning. Forget I said anything.” 

You attempt to leave the room before Seungcheol catches your arm and motions for you to sit down. Grudgingly, you do, sitting on your ottoman and facing him. “You didn’t even give me a chance to respond,” he complains. “You can’t always assume how I feel is something bad. Give me a chance.” You nod, knowing deep down he is right. “You are right,” He admits. “I love you, and this song and dance we’ve been doing for years is tired. I came to you last night because I missed you and I need you. You’re the only one in my life who has always kept it straight with me, even when you get on my nerves.” You smirk at his comment, knowing it’s true. “But we have also been apart for a long time, and as much as I want to jump back into our usual routine, I recognize we have grown up a bit and need to get to know each other as our different selves.” You nod slowly, mulling over his words, unsure what to say. “I also don’t want to see anyone else,” he breathes. “You are the only person I want to see, to do this with.” He points at the sheets, and you roll your eyes. It would be like him to somehow bridge it back to sex. 

“So…” your voice trails off. “What are we then? We are more than friends but not together? I don’t understand.” “I want to be with you,” he grabs your hands. “If we fight and storm off to our houses, I’d rather it be that then we break up and don’t talk for months at a time. I hate that.” You nod, finally understanding what he is saying. He is scared of the future, just like you are. But in this life, you would rather go through it with him than anyone else. You have too much time and feelings just to throw it away. “Maybe we can try talking to someone about it this time around?” You say. “A therapist or something? I want to be with you, and maybe working through our issues to understand each other better sometimes is what we need.” “Yeah, I’m open to that.” He hugs you, embracing you tightly before leaving sweet kisses on your face. You are deathly ticklish, and he knows it. He moves his kisses elsewhere until you find yourself in your bed, his body towering over yours. He leaves you one more kiss on your lips before laying his head on your chest. “We’re going to be okay,” he whispers.

You look down and smile, caressing the dark stresses in his hair.

“Yeah. We will be.”

[deliciousangelfestival]

The Imperfect Couple - 5

Character: politician!Bucky x ex-wife!reader

Summary: A separated couple must pretend to be happily married while the husband runs for Vice President, dealing with old issues and political pressures during his election campaign.

Warning: The couple's arguments could be triggering.

Chapter 1 , Chapter 2 , Chapter 3 , Chapter 4 , Chapter 5, Chapter 6 , Chapter 7 , Chapter 8 , Chapter 9 , Chapter 10 , Chapter 11 , Chapter 12 , Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist || If you enjoy my work, please consider buying me a coffee on Ko-fi 🙏🏻

By the way, I publish my book Arrogant Ex-Husband and Dad, I Can't Let You Go by Alina C. Bing on Kindle.

Thank you to everyone who has read this chapter. Leave a comment and Reblog, please. I'd love to hear your thoughts. ❤️

You were deep in conversation with Greg, discussing the next move, when suddenly, you were called to Steve’s office. As you entered, you noticed Steve and Bucky sitting with serious expressions.

“What?” you asked, feeling a twinge of anxiety as both men locked eyes on you the moment you walked in.

Steve exchanged a glance with Bucky before he spoke up. "We found a comment that mentioned our divorce," Bucky said, his voice low.

“Oh,” you replied, crossing your arms defensively. “Does it also mention how you kidnapped me?”

Bucky chuckled, a small smile playing on his lips. “The things I’d do to bring you home.”

You rolled your eyes, refusing to be swayed by his charm.

“When we separated, did you ever tell anyone about our divorce?” Bucky’s tone grew more serious as he leaned forward, searching your eyes for the truth.

“Me?” You raised an eyebrow, the memory of Caroline’s threat flashing in your mind. “Did you forget that your mother threatened me not to tell anyone?”

The tension in the room thickened as you spoke. Caroline had made it clear she didn’t want the divorce to be public knowledge. She wanted you as far away from Bucky as possible, and she had the power to make it happen.

You’d learned quickly that fighting her was futile. Every news station and newspaper in the country had mysteriously closed their doors to you after the separation, leaving you with no choice but to pursue a career as an independent international journalist.

“That woman is ambitious as hell,” you muttered under your breath. Caroline’s wealth and connections were unmatched, and she wasn’t afraid to use them. She had even used Julius’s money to secure people who would do her bidding. Once you left the country, it seemed she lost interest in you, allowing you to continue your work in relative peace.

Working alone as a journalist in foreign countries had its challenges, but it also opened your eyes to the world. You found purpose in being a voice for the unfortunate, using your platform to shed light on the truth. Along the way, you met new friends, formed new connections, but you never let slip the truth about your marriage or divorce. The scars left on your heart were too deep, and the thought of trusting another man terrified you.

'What’s the point of having a husband if he can’t protect and defend me? you thought bitterly, the pain still fresh.

But perhaps, in a moment of vulnerability, you’d let a clue slip. You couldn’t lie to fellow journalists; they had a way of sensing the truth.

“What about your family?” you shot back, narrowing your eyes at Bucky. “Don’t just point fingers at me.”

For Bucky, the divorce was never acknowledged. He even burned the documents in the fireplace, a secret known only to him and God.

His parents, especially Caroline, were too embarrassed to admit their golden child had been divorced, while Julius, who never agreed with the divorce in the first place, remained silent.

Shawn, his oldest brother, was too high to care, and Hazel never bothered with such matters.

“It wasn’t my side either,” Bucky said, his voice steady as he locked eyes with you.

“Suit yourself,” you replied, your tone laced with a mixture of defiance and resignation.

“Sooner or later, the person who wrote it will show up,” Bucky added, his voice calm but carrying a cold edge.

“How can you be so sure?” you asked, a flicker of unease crossing your face.

Bucky merely shrugged, a dangerous glint in his eyes. “If they take too long, I’ll use my way to find them.”

A chill ran down your spine at his words, the threat lingering in the air. You knew what he was capable of, and the thought of him resorting to his methods sent a shiver of fear through you.

Steve, sensing the tension, stepped in, patting Bucky’s shoulder in a calming gesture. “Let the cyber team do their job. We don’t need you taking any extreme measures, especially with the convention so close.”

Steve understood Bucky better than most. While Bucky might present a soft, composed exterior, inside he was a beast—a man unafraid to take risks, to do whatever it took, especially when it came to you. The lengths he would go to protect what was his were both terrifying and awe-inspiring.

But Steve also knew the stakes. If the truth got out—that the future Vice President’s family, particularly Bucky's mother, had abused his wife to the point of divorce, and that the wife, thought to be widowed, had been kidnapped before the election—it would destroy the perfect image the Barnes family had worked so hard to maintain.

And it wouldn’t just affect Bucky; it would drag you down with him.

It would be the scandal of the century.

That’s why, before it could escalate, they had to find the source.

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

The Barnes family gathered in the opulent conference room, tension crackling in the air like a live wire. Everyone was present, except for Shawn, who, as usual, was nowhere to be found.

Greg stood at the head of the table, flipping through his notes. “Well, after the Rogers family makes their appearance, it’s time for the Barnes to take the stage.”

“Of course,” Caroline chimed in, her voice sharp with authority. “All of us need to be up there.”

“Me too?” you asked, directing your question to Greg.

“Yes,” Bucky interjected before Greg could respond. “We’ve prepared the ramp for Tim’s wheelchair.”

Before you could even register the thoughtfulness behind Bucky’s statement, Caroline’s voice sliced through the room, dripping with venom. “No. It will ruin the balance. Everyone else can stand on their feet. While…”

“You know what? I hope you die and rot in hell!” you snapped, your voice ringing with years of pent-up anger.

The room froze, every head snapping in your direction. Caroline’s eyes widened in disbelief, her mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. “Did… Did you hear that? She cursed me!”

You didn’t back down, the rage pouring out of you like a dam breaking. “So you’d rather parade your cocaine-addicted son who crashed his car and killed someone than show my brother who, despite losing a leg, works tirelessly from nine to five?”

Caroline was too stunned to reply, her face draining of color. Bucky, though usually stoic, couldn’t keep the anger from his voice. “You’re out of line, Mom. Tim is her only family left.”

Hazel, normally indifferent, nodded in agreement. “This time, I’m with them.”

Caroline, her voice trembling with indignation, shot back, “Is this how you treat your own mother?”

“No, Carol,” Julius said, his voice cold and cutting, “this is what we call karma.”

Bucky’s jaw tightened as he fought to control the emotions boiling beneath the surface. “She’s been in the same position as you,” he said, a lump forming in his throat as memories of his mother’s cruelty resurfaced. “You only felt that sting for three minutes, but my wife endured it for years.”

Caroline’s eyes narrowed, her fury now directed squarely at you. Her face flushed with rage, and you could almost see the steam rising from her ears. “So what? You want me to apologize?”

You met her gaze without flinching, your voice icy. “No. I don’t need your apology. It wouldn’t be enough to cover the pain I’ve suffered because of you. And honestly? I’d feel relieved if you died. If someone could confirm you’re burning in hell, it’d be the best news I’ve heard in years.”

Caroline, still believing she was the true victim, stormed out of the room, her heels clicking angrily on the marble floor. Julius and Hazel exchanged a glance before following her, leaving a tense silence in their wake.

Bucky watched them go, his fists clenched at his sides. He turned to you, his eyes searching yours for any sign of what you were feeling. “Are you okay?” he asked, his voice softening for the first time that day.

You shook your head, the adrenaline still pumping through your veins. “I don’t know. It felt good to finally say what I’ve been holding in, but it doesn’t erase everything she’s done.”

Bucky nodded, stepping closer to you. “You shouldn’t have had to go through that alone. I should’ve stood up for you sooner.”

You looked up at him, the tension between you both palpable. “It’s too late for regrets, Bucky. We’ve both been through hell. The only thing that matters now is what we do next.”

He reached out, taking your hand in his. “Then let’s make sure this doesn’t break us.”

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

Before the convention starts, the air buzzes with the anticipation of the event. As you stand in the corner of the vast convention hall, adjusting your outfit, a familiar voice calls out your name. You turn and see Ian, the British journalist you’ve met a few times before. His tousled hair and easy smile make him stand out in the crowd.

“Ian!” you greet him, a genuine smile spreading across your face. “What are you doing here?”

Ian chuckles, clearly pleased to see you. “I’m here to cover the election, of course. But, honestly, I jumped at the chance to come because I knew you’d be here.”

You laugh softly, shaking your head. “So, you flew all the way out here just for me?”

He grins, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “My boss didn’t believe me when I said I knew you. I had to show him a picture of us together just to convince him.”

You laugh again, feeling the warmth of his presence. “Well, I’m glad you made it. It’s been a while.”

As you and Ian catch up, the conversation flows easily, your shared ideas and interests making the time fly by. He tells you about his latest assignments, and you share some of your recent experiences. The banter between you is light and effortless, the kind that comes naturally with someone you’re comfortable with.

But then, you sense a shift in the air, and before you can react, Bucky appears at your side. He’s polite, as always, his smile perfectly in place, but you can sense the underlying tension in his posture. His eyes dart between you and Ian, and although he doesn’t say it, you know he’s not thrilled about the easy rapport between you and the British journalist.

“Hi,” Bucky says, his voice calm but laced with something you can’t quite place. “I didn’t mean to interrupt. Just thought I’d come by and check in.”

Ian extends his hand to Bucky with a friendly smile. “Ian, nice to meet you.”

Bucky shakes his hand, his grip a bit firmer than necessary. “Likewise. I’ve heard a bit about you.”

There’s a brief, almost imperceptible moment of silence, where you can feel Bucky’s eyes on you. His polite smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes, and you can tell he’s itching to separate you from Ian.

“Well,” Ian says, oblivious to the tension, “I should get going. Need to find my spot before the chaos begins.” He turns to you, his smile warm and genuine. “Let’s catch up properly after this?”

You nod, still smiling. “Definitely. See you around, Ian.”

As Ian walks away, Bucky’s gaze follows him, his jaw tightening slightly. Once Ian is out of sight, Bucky’s shoulders relax, but only a fraction. He turns to you, his expression unreadable.

“You two seem close,” Bucky says, his voice carefully neutral, but you don’t miss the hint of something more beneath the surface.

“We’ve met a few times,” you reply casually, though you can sense Bucky’s unease.

He nods, but his eyes narrow slightly, as if something about Ian doesn’t sit right with him. Deep down, Bucky’s instincts are on high alert. There’s something about Ian—something he can’t quite put his finger on—that doesn’t add up. And as much as he tries to push it aside, the feeling gnaws at him, making him wonder if Ian’s presence here is as innocent as it seems.

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[atlabeth]

mine forever

request from @nghtwngs

pairing: nikolai lantsov x fem!tidemaker reader

a/n: SO sorry for posting this early and having to delete 💀 i was formatting and didnt realize i was not saving it as a draft lmao. but thank you for sending this in love!!! and PLEASEE send in as much nikolai as you want i miss writing for him so much

wc: 1.4k

warning(s): hurt/comfort. reader is insecure, nikolai is the sweetest as usual

join in on my 3k celebration!!

“You’re avoiding me.” 

Your eyes didn’t move away from the horizon when you heard Nikolai’s voice, though you felt your muscles tense. 

“Clearly not well enough,” you remarked. “Seeing as you found me.” 

“You know I’ll always find you,” Nikolai murmured. “But that means little if you will not talk to me.” 

Of course you were not talking to him. You did not know how to talk to him—not when you so clearly didn’t understand the issue plaguing you. 

All you’d ever known was the life of a Grisha. You were tested when you were young, revealed to be a Tidemaker, and whisked away to the Little Palace, where you’d been honing your abilities ever since. You rebelled against the one thing you knew, joined the side of the Sun Summoner, and now you were in the midst of a war for the very survival of your people. 

There were so few Tidemakers left after the Darkling’s massacre, which meant Alina and Nikolai were counting on you more than ever in their fight to reclaim Ravka. 

But when you needed your powers most, they disappeared. 

You— you just didn’t understand, because it didn’t make sense. You’d spent years studying the Small Science and how to wield it, how to manipulate the water around you no matter how miniscule. 

This was not merzost. You had never tampered with the way of the world, never attempted to bastardize the abilities you’d been granted.

Like called to like. There was a part of you that connected to the water, that allowed you the affinity for all of this.  

You had just… lost it. For no apparent reason. 

“There is nothing to talk about,” you stated simply. The cold of the railing shocked your fingers as you set your hand down, but you welcomed any sort of feeling. 

“Do not be ridiculous,” Nikolai said wryly. He came out onto the balcony and stopped beside you. You could see him looking at you through your peripherals, could feel his intent gaze. “Nobody avoids me unless they have a reason.”

You huffed a bitter laugh. “I certainly have a reason, moi tsarevich.”

“So we’ve gone back to titles?” Nikolai’s lips quirked up. “Shall I start referring to you as Grisha? Tidemaker, even?”

You scoffed. “That would be inaccurate.”

“Ah,” he nodded. “We’ve reached the root of the problem.”

“We hardly did anything,” you said. “Do you talk just to hear the sound of your own voice?”

“I do, as a matter of fact,” Nikolai said. “But you should know your scornful words have no effect when I’m aware of your true feelings.”

“If you are aware of my true feelings, you should know I would like to be left alone.” 

“You want to be left alone because you feel useless without your power,” he said. “Any man worth their salt would not fall to that, and fortunately, I’m worth quite a lot.” 

You finally turned to look at Nikolai, though you could not muster the full force of your anger when you did. He had that slight smile still, the glint in his eyes, and all you could think was that you didn't even deserve this kindness. 

“Because I am,” you said. 

He shook his head. “You are not. Far from useless, actually.” 

“You served in the First Army, didn’t you?” 

“I hardly see how that’s relevant—” 

“Just answer my question.” 

“...Yes,” he said. “I was infantry. The 22nd Regiment.” 

“And if you had lost the ability to shoot a gun, would you be allowed to stay on the front lines?” 

Nikolai shook his head. “I will not participate in hypotheticals to help you feel worse.” 

“Because you know it’s true.” You looked back out at the horizon—the sun was steadily setting. “I have no place here anymore.” 

He said your name with a slight huff. “That is not true.” 

“I’m not Grisha anymore!” you exclaimed as you whirled back to face him. “The only reason I have ever gotten anywhere— the only reason I am here, the only reason I ever met you in the first place— it is all because of my power.” You pulled your jacket tighter around yourself in the wake of a cold wind. The material was noticeably thinner than your kefta, but you could not bring yourself to wear it anymore. “I’m useless now. To— to Ravka, to the Second Army— to you.” 

His brows furrowed. “You are not useless to Ravka— and you could never be useless to me.” You averted your eyes, unable to meet the full weight of his softened gaze, and his frown deepened. “That’s what this is about then? 

“Don’t act like it’s so ridiculous,” you muttered. 

Nikolai had the nerve to laugh, and you glared at him. He held up his hands in defense, but he could not fully bite back his smile. 

“I apologize, lapushka, but I did not even consider that as an option for why you were so upset.” 

Nikolai took your hands in his, hands that had been the key to your power the entire life, that were failing you, and he held them like nothing else in the world mattered. “Do you know how absurd the thought of me not loving you is?” 

You glanced away, but Nikolai gently cupped your chin with a few fingers and tilted you back to meet his eyes. 

“Because it is,” he continued, letting his hand fall back down to grasp yours. “I love you with everything in me. I love you because you are you—not because of your powers. Not because you are Grisha.” 

“Who am I if I am not Grisha?” Your voice came out as little more than a whisper, near a desperate plea. You’d never felt weaker, never felt smaller. The only thing you’d known all your life had been ripped away from you, and you felt as if you’d been shoved into an endless void. 

Nikolai said your name softly as he squeezed your hands. “You are a soldier of great renown. A revolutionary on the right side of history. The most loyal friend someone can have. And lest you somehow manage to forget it, you are the woman I love.”

“You deserve better than—” you swallowed the lump in your throat. “—than some broken, failed Grisha.”

“You are not broken,” Nikolai murmured, and he never looked away from your eyes as he lifted your hand to press a kiss to the back of it. “We are merely on… a different path.” 

“A different path,” you repeated, and you could not help your wry laugh. 

“Yes,” he nodded. “And we will go down every step of it together. Do you understand that?” 

Nikolai fought for everything he had, despite his standing as a Lantsov. He was a soldier on the front lines, he rose through the ranks on the sea under a pseudonym, and now he was clawing his way through useless formalities in order to take back the throne that he deserved. 

And here you were—someone who was given everything because of some power inside you. And now you didn’t even have that. 

It just did not seem right. It did not make sense. For a man as powerful as Nikolai to stick by your side despite such a misgiving. 

“If you don’t, that is alright.” Nikolai shrugged. “I will just have to spend extra time showing you how much I revere your very being.” 

“Nikolai,” you murmured, and his grip on your hands tightened. 

“I cannot pretend to understand what you are going through,” he said. “I cannot lose what you have lost because I’ve never had it in the first place. But I can promise you wholeheartedly that we will figure out what is wrong. Together.” 

“And what if we don’t?” you asked. You couldn’t help it. 

“Then nothing will change,” Nikolai vowed. “Milaya, nothing can tear me away from you, whether you are Grisha or not. Do you understand that?” 

A part of you still could not. Who were you if you were not of use? 

But when you met Nikolai’s eyes, those beautiful hazel eyes that seemed to glow with the sunset, full of softness and admiration and love, you found that you could start to.

You may not have believed in yourself, but Nikolai did. And that had to mean something.  

“I’m beginning to,” you murmured. 

“Good,” he said, and his lips quirked into a smile. “But fear not, milaya. I hold enough love for you inside of me for the both of us in the meantime.” 

[evandsolo]

𝐈𝐧𝐯𝐢𝐬𝐢𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐒𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 | Bang Chan

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: Bang Chan x f!reader 𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞 : royalcore!Bang Chan. Flirt. Smut (more suggestive than fully described but still.) MDNI 𝐖𝐨𝐫��𝐬: 3.426 𝐏𝐥𝐨𝐭 : Amid whispers of silk and shadows, a lady-in-waiting and the kingdom's fiercest general find themselves entangled in a dance of flirtation and unspoken promises. WARNING UNDER THE CUT ! UNDERAGED PEOPLE PLEASE DO NOT READ! 𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 : This was actually written for one of my friend whose a Stay ! But i thought it should not stay in my computer, so enjoy ! ✿ 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: smut, unprotected sex, fingering, aftercare. Please let me know if i've forgotten any.

The room was packed. The orchestra had played non-stop for hours. The rustling of silk and taffeta had filled the room all evening. It was a magnificent reception. One that no one will forget. One of those evenings that celebrate love and union. The ballroom was decorated with flowers, from floor to ceiling, the buffets overflowing with food. I had never seen such beautiful decorations before. Everything was simply sublime. Generals, soldiers, highnesses from all the surrounding kingdoms, everyone breathed joy and jubilation.

I could never have dreamed of a more beautiful event for the princess I had accompanied my entire life. Alina deserved the union of love she had experienced today, so much did her heart overflow with love and kindness. Everyone knew it, she would be a wonderful sovereign.

The crowd had ended up scattering, dissipating, as the night wore on. The bride and groom had received many congratulations until the last minute. They too had ended up slipping away, to enjoy this new union together. Only a few people remained in the room, who were still accompanying the orchestra. Some were still waltzing and would surely do so until dawn.

“You’re not dancing?” A voice called out from behind me, over the flying notes of the violins. “You’ve been here all night, making merry for everyone, but you haven’t stepped on the dance floor once.”

I turned around to look at the person who had surprised me, tearing a heartbeat from my chest. I come face to face with broad shoulders, covered in a velvet soldier's jacket. My breath chokes in my throat. I would recognize these shoulders among many others. General Bahng, head of the kingdom's armies. 

“How do you know I did not dance, sir ?” I answered, catching his huge brown eyes. 

It wasn't the first time we met. He was always there, around, since Alina's engagement. Watching over her, over the kingdom. I was always lucky enough to be able to admire him. He wasn't very tall, but he knew perfectly how to handle swords, which didn't take away from the natural charisma he gave off. In the outfit he wore tonight, in the colors of the kingdom, he shone all the more. A few strands of rebellious hair fell over his forehead and his smile could have melted any of the ladies present tonight.

“I’ve been watching you. You’re glowing, how could I look away?” He said with an amused smile. The sparkle in his eyes had never seemed so bright to me as it did at that very moment.

“So you didn’t have an eye on the bride and groom? You’re failing in your duty, General.” My tone echoed his. I clasp my hands behind my back, looking completely innocent. “Thank you for the compliment.”

“Come dance with me. That way I can keep an eye on the apple of the kingdom.” He then extends his gloved hand towards me and I observe him for a few seconds before slipping my hand into his. “I hope you are a good dancer, General. I wouldn’t want to make a fool of myself in front of this huge crowd.” I joked before following him a few steps further, onto the dance floor.

The last couple still present leaves the dance floor and we find ourselves alone, with just the orchestra. The violins begin to resonate, then all the sweetest notes of the wind instruments follow and finally, the piano rises in turn. 

I feel his hand come to close on my waist while the other one tangles around my fingers. We were so close that I could feel his breath, crashing on my face. I come to place my hand on his shoulder and in rhythm, we begin to waltz. His eyes catch mine and I think that at that precise moment, I forget reality. I dive into his gaze and there is nothing more than him and me. Everything disappears in the room, as if a bubble had formed around us. 

The music takes me somewhere else. I forget everything, I think of nothing more, except the warmth he diffuses in the hollow of my waist. The ease with which we understood each other in gestures. Everything seemed terribly natural. As if we had always danced together. Then, his hand leaves mine, to come and grab my waist, letting me gently go backwards, before coming back to hold me against him. His smile does not dissipate and in his gaze, I see only joy and a certain form of tenderness, which I had never seen in him. My smile became wider as my cheeks turned a little bit rosier. 

“Why're you blushing ?” He said. “Are you that surprised to see that I can dance ?” 

“Actually, I am ! I never thought you were so talented. I have to admit that the surprise is rather pleasant.” I admitted, with a slight smile. “Did you practiced for this evening?”

“Not for tonight in particular. But any self-respecting man must know how to turn his date’s head. And I was hoping one day to have the chance to make you twirl.” 

Those words took my breath away. For a few seconds, I found myself staring at him without really understanding. Our steps stopped abruptly and I almost fell, tripping over his feet. Have I heard correctly? Or even understood what he meant?

“Be careful my Lady.” He said, catching you. “ Never thought that admitting I've been thinking about you day and night, would have that effect on you.” I see the mischievous glow in her eyes and the small smile that adorned her lips. All signs that did not deceive. I had understood well the first time.

“ You can't say that, General.” I mumbled, blinking a few times trying to stop the rush in my chest. 

I could not deny the fact that the General was probably the most handsome man I had ever seen, nor even the attraction that might exist between him and me. It was not the first ball we shared, there had always been this particular feeling in the hollow of my belly when he was close. Like a cloud of butterflies, which suddenly fly away. My gaze was undeniably drawn to him. 8So hard that it was difficult to look away. There had always been this tension between him and me. That kind of invisible link, against which I could not go. 

“Why? I have said nothing...” he breathes with a smile of amusement, making me whirl again, before stopping on my wrist. His thumb traces the edge of the ribbon that was tied on it. A garnet red satin ribbon. A gift he made me at the last ball we attended. We had been talking until late at night, by the fountain in the winter garden of a neighboring kingdom’s castle. Around a huge bouquet, I found a ribbon, which he had untied, before coming to tie it around my wrist. He kept some in his jacket pocket. Since then, this piece of cloth has never left my skin. It was dear to me.

“You kept it...” he said in a whisper, the eyes shining with a new light. “It beautifully brings out your porcelain skin. Red suits you so well.”

“Why should I not keep it? You don’t throw away a present. I like it. It reminds me of that wonderful evening we shared.” Say I in a breath, while his thumb continues to electrify my skin, as he holds me so close, that I feel his breath on my cheek. In a graceful movement he makes me spin again on several turns, before abandoning me in the middle of the track, alone. His laughter echoes through the room as I look for him. I find him further away waving something red between his fingers. It is fine and above all, it reflects the light. I quickly understand what it is, when I look down on my wrist, now naked. 

“If you want it.... Come and get it, My Lady.” He said before running away into the halls of the castle in a playful laugh. 

“General ! Come back !” I shouted, before I set out to chase him. 

I do not know how many corridors or intersections I take, just by following the echo of his laughter. It sounded like a little bell, which pointed the way. I felt my breath burning in my chest as I walked across the open patio to look for him. Suddenly, his laughter fades and I stop, my chest rising at a frantic pace, as I try to catch my breath. 

“General, where are you hiding?” I throw, breathlessly. I hear noise on the stone behind me, but when I turn around there is no one. Frustration fills my entire being as I call again. "General? Give it back to me!” 

“Don’t you like to play, my Lady ?” I heard, as a distant voice that reached me like an echo. I turned again to move forward, but I had the impression of chasing a ghost, under the lights of the torches that adorned the walls and the moon, which entered through the openings. I knew how much he loved to play. It was his thing. Charm and play. But tonight it was getting cold and especially it was late. Yet I wanted to get back what was mine. 

As I turned into another corridor, wishing he was there on the other side waiting for me, a hand grabbed mine and I suddenly hit the cold wall. I found myself surrounded by his perfume, the scent of mint, mixed with apple, geranium and vanilla, intoxicating me. His breath is stranded in the hollow of my neck, all against my skin and it’s a huge shiver that runs through me. 

“Do you plan on giving me my ribbon back now?” I throw while trying to keep up. He runs my skin with light kisses for a simple answer before facing me. “Don’t be so hasty... Why not make the evening last a little longer?” He said, drawing a line of kisses along my jaw.

“We’re in the middle of a corridor.... That’s not right. Someone might see us.” I whisper, eyes half closed, while one of my hands comes to slide around his neck, to go caress his hairline. 

“Who cares ? Don’t you think we should finish what we started… that other night?” He stands up and looks into my eyes. I can read a lot of emotions in it. The glow that shines is no longer just playful. The flame that now inhabits his eyes, makes me shiver. 

“Here? Now?” I ask, in a small voice. I had no apprehension, I was perfectly confident. “General. Your impatience will lose you...” I breathe, letting my hands slide on his shoulders. 

“Here, now. I can no longer contain the envy that devours me. Is it worthwhile to wait? I want you.”

I want you. 

These words resonate in me like an echo. They trigger like a cataclysm. Suddenly, I feel dizzy again, as if some barriers had fallen. I watch him lean down, getting closer and closer to kiss my cheek, then the corner of my lips. I lose breath.

“I want every inch of you.” He whispered against my skin, before locking his words in a kiss. It is hot, desperate. I savor the depth of it. I give it back with much more aplomb. Nothing holds me back. It was as if, all the desire I tried to restrain, had escaped to take possession of every cell in my body. One of his hands leaves my waist to go up along my bust and run down on my chest. The contrast between the warmth of his skin against the fabric and the freshness of the marble against my back, gives me the feeling of consuming myself on the spot. 

I could feel this knot take possession of my belly, as our skins rub against each other, intertwine. I end by breaking the kiss, to let my lips run aground on his jaw. I feel his hands, on every inch of my skin, like a thirsty man looking for an oasis in the desert. Quickly I feel it in my back, come to grind the fabric of my corset. The latter is undone more quickly than it should be, piteously lying on the ground. 

“I wanted you for so long… You cannot imagine how long my soul has been calling to you.” He utters between two kisses laid down along my skin, pulling me almost a whimper. I feel it coming to mark my skin along my bust, on the curve of my chest, up to my belly, covered with lace. His hands, meanwhile, were already exploring my legs, under the silk of my skirt. “Let me love you as no man will ever love you.”

“Love me. Make me yours.” I whisper slightly tilting my head back as I feel the pulp of his fingers go up along my thigh. It’s so close and my whole body is burning to know it even closer as it goes up. It’s slow. Almost too slow. It gives birth to desire in me, it animates, and gives me the impression of burning from within, so much the envy seems to consume me. I had never felt anything so strong, but never had I wanted it so much. I was his, in the shadow of the moon, only spectator of what was happening. 

A moan escapes me as it makes its way under the fabric to seek what was most intimate in my core. I cling painfully to him, my hands seeking support where they found it to keep me in balance, while waves of pleasure are making their way into the hollow of my belly. His kisses rise up to come and run down my neck. His fingers were playing with me, as if he already knew me by heart. I could feel it everywhere and nowhere at once. On me, in me, it felt like it was in every inch of my core. 

I come to tighten my grip on it, as I feel this bubble growing in the bottom of my stomach. It is threatening like a wave that grows again and again as it comes to stoke the fire. I drop my head on his shoulder in a moan. It is omnipresent, I feel like I have only him, all around me. To be surrounded only by his being, his perfume, his skin. 

“Not so fast, my Lady.” he whispered in the hollow of my ear, coming to take off his hand, and I suddenly felt like an orphan. I wanted more. I whine in protest. I almost begged him with my gaze. I wanted it, without waiting. What was he playing at? 

In a burst of frustration at having been cut off in my flight, I reversed our positions, to come in turn steal countless desperate kisses. I come to mark his neck, while I am busy on his jacket, which falls to the ground in a deaf noise. Quickly and clumsily, I come to untie his shirt to infiltrate my hands under the fabric. I needed his warmth, his touch, to feel his skin under my fingers. I feel him tremble at my passage, as I leave a line of wet kisses on his skin. I savor the lines drawn of his musculature under my fingers, tracing it without forgetting a tiny patch. 

“Why make me wait if you wanted it so much?” I ask against his skin, as I now snatch up to the buckle of his belt. I trace it with my fingertips. “I don’t want to play anymore.” I mused as I now stared at his hungry look. “You knew I would die of envy. Why leave me there, consumed by desire?” 

“It will only be more delicious.” He says in turn, as I slide my hand under his belt to feel all his desire, marked by the lack of space and the stretching of the fabric under my fingers. “It’s better to reach the summits together, my sweet.”

I finally untied the buckle of his belt, then the opening of his pants and let my hands venture to the edge of his underwear and finally under the elastic. I grasp the full measure of his desire, trapping a little bit of my lip between my teeth, without ever ceasing to stare at him. I could almost see the flame dancing in his eyes. There is lust, love, passion in the way he looks at me, while my hand plays with him, surrounds him, tastes him. As a fair return, of the game his hands had played a few moments earlier. A moan escapes his throat, and it’s my turn to leave his skin. I take my hand back, with a slight smile on my face. “Not so fast, Christopher...” I threw, amused, teasing him with his name muttered. 

“I didn’t know you were such a player...” He said, as I came to prick my mouth with countless kisses, while I found myself again, cornered against the stone wall. His hands quickly come to grab the fabric of my dress to pull it up to my waist. The pulp of his fingers against my skin electrifies me and I gurgle with impatience against his lips. “P-Please…” I beg him with a breath, as his thumb touches me. I wanted it all. I wanted no more barriers between us. I’m busy sliding his pants down his thighs, while quickly, I feel the lace grounding at my feet. 

Then, finally, he comes to grab one of my thighs and lifts it up against his hip, so that our bodies can align perfectly, and in a passionate kiss, our bodies unite, with a slowness, but a passion that knows no equal. He waits a few moments, before I look at him and beg him to continue. I feel it everywhere, in the slightest movement. Each thrust takes me into a world where there is no more than us. 

I come to put my head in the hollow of his neck, to try to smother pitifully the moans that escape me, while he fills me with the most natural way. I feel it collides with the center of my pleasure and I cling not to lose my anchor with reality. But I feel the waves take possession of my lower abdomen. The knot is febrile, it threatens at any moment to explode and overwhelm me completely. 

“More.. please…” I groaned against his skin, I needed more. I wanted to touch the heavens under his touch. He tightens his grip on my hips, before coming to slide his hands under my buttocks to lift me completely and I close my trembling legs around his waist. I feel it further away at each thrust and none of us is able to hold the slightest sound that escapes our bodies while our eyes cross again.

“You’re perfect.” He said, while thrusting harder, deeper, until I felt the knot exploding. My vision fills with stars, and for a few moments nothing is clear around me. My breath is short, jerky. I feel my core clenching around him as he reaches his high. He then let his head fall back on my shoulder, while he moaned my name in a last stroke. 

Our bodies separate after a few seconds and I rest my feet on the ground, without really letting go. I still needed an anchor to make sure that I had not dreamt what had just happened.

“Are you okay, my Lady?” He blows, lifting the cloth up on his body to cover himself again. I nod my head, while taking a breath. “I am fine, marvellously fine.” I finally confirm without turning my eyes. “We should take care of you tonight.” He adds, while lifting me in his arms, making me laugh as I grab his neck. “ What a playful gentleman you are.” I chuckle, as my heart gently thumps in my chest. “Where are you taking me?” I finally ask, as he climbs the castle stairs. 

“Where my love for you has no limits,” he said, with a smile full of riddles. 

After making sure that everything was fine, the night ended between the delicate sheets of his apartments and I felt at last complete, surrounded by his tenderness, his laughter and his warmth. I felt more loved than ever.

I really hope you appreciated it, do not hesitate to reblog or to leave a note i’d love to read all about your thoughts. ✿ Evandsolo, 2025 ✿

[kasagia]

I love you... I am sorry III

Pairing: Aleksander Morozova/The Darkling x fem!witch! reader Summary: Your past is catching up with you, Aleksander regains his full powers, and everyone around you says you're losing your mind. Too bad that they didn't notice that you went mad agea ago. Aleksander Morozova's Masterlist ~•♤♤♤•~Main Masterlist ~•♤♤♤•~ Part 2 ~•♤♤♤•~ Part 4 ~•♤♤♤•~

"How did you do that?" Ulla asks you as you both hunt for food in the forest. You move slowly through the trees, keeping an eye out for any movement in the bushes in the distance or the audible sound of a deer or a wild boar.

"What?" You ask, stopping. You close your eyes and focus on the sounds around you. You place your hand on the tree trunk next to you and focus on its energy, the tips of its leaves fluttering in the wind and the veins in its roots. You open your eyes when you locate a deer nearby and nod to the black-haired one to follow you.

"Dragging Aleksander here with us. Mother was convinced that we would go alone with Alina and her retinue. And yet he actually ordered them to take him with us on this journey."

You shrug at her words and prepare your bow when you manage to spot deer tracks in the snow. You slowly follow the trail, telling Ulla to be quiet. A few seconds later, a whistle pierces the forest as you hit your target with an arrow.

"I'm not inside his mind. I have no idea what made him decide to come with us." You sigh, feeling the woman's gaze on you. She throws the small game you'd hunted earlier over her shoulder and helps you carry the deer to your camp.

"That's the kind of crap you're telling my mother. I know perfectly well that he changed his mind because of you. You avoid being around him like the plague when he doesn't have a gag, and he keeps looking at you like a desperate, furious, kicked puppy. Just blurt it out and say what you did."

You want to roll your eyes at her, but you keep any hint of your irritation to yourself. Your hand instinctively goes to your bare neck—the place where the glass heart pendant once rested. And Aleksander's blood. You don't know what he did with it, and honestly you don't want to know.

Lately you've been overcome by... a feeling of emptiness. Numbness. Not of your limbs because the magical properties of the heart necklace have left, but... of your soul. You've had it a few times before, usually during the winter-spring equinoxes. Ordinary people had the biggest endorphin surge then. You, on the other hand... let's just say you found your way better in the darkness and shadows of the longer nights... not because of one Shadow Summoner.

"He annoys me. I don't need to be around him anymore, so I don't. Besides, I'm almost certain that he's planning my painful, long, torturous death this way. At the hands of the volcra or his nichevo'ya—I'm not sure yet." You shrug and fall silent as you approach the camp.

You frown when you see that the fire is almost extinguished, and there is not a single living soul around it. Strange. Very.

"You two are like two stubborn donkeys. When will you realize that you really…"

"Stay behind." You tell Ulla and release the deer. She gasps from the sudden burden but makes no further sound at the sight of you acting strangely.

You approach the fire and use your boot to sweep away the ash that was left there from the burnt branches. You wrinkle your nose and uncertainly reach for a log to throw it into the fire. You crouch over the barely burning hearth and blow, throwing in a handful of dried herbs from your hip bag, causing the fire to suddenly ignite with a living flame. And in the process, you remove another witch's spell.

You gasp as you are suddenly pinned to the ground, a hooded figure looming over you, now holding a dagger to your neck. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Baghra, Alina, her loyal friends tied up next to the Aleksander, right where you left him.

You snarl as the witch presses the dagger to your neck, drawing your attention back to her.

"Jelena. We haven't seen each other for a long time. How long has it been? An age? Two?"

"What betrayed me?" She asks dryly, completely ignoring your attempts at decent conversation. Rude. You mentally prepare yourself for a fight with her.

"The seal under the ashes. If you can't cast a spell without drawing your weird markings, just don't do it." You mock her as she presses the dagger to your skin

You hiss in pain, crimson-black blood running down the column of your throat, drawing the younger witch's attention. Jelena bulges at you, her hand on the dagger trembling as she surveys her handiwork.

"You are vulnerable. It can't be real…" She mutters to herself in shock, scanning your blood as if it were a living stream of water in the desert.

"Not so vulnerable." You gasp and use your magic to throw her off of you. You sigh, pressing a hand to your neck and feeling the sticky blood on your fingers. "I still have a few tricks up my sleeve. So if I were you, I wouldn't taste me. What do you want?"

"Kill you. Just like practically all of the witches from Ravka and Fjerda."

You snort at her obvious statement, watching in relief as she tucks the dagger into her boot. It's nice that for old times' sake she decided not to slaughter you with such a primitive tool. Ulla's searing gaze reminds you that you need to be quick with her if you don't want the young Morozova to enter this interaction uninvited.

"Oh please. I'm not that popular." You joke, earning a slight twitch at the corners of her mouth. You sigh, sitting down by the fire and nodding for her to do the same, ignoring the stares of your forced companions. Especially the one with exceptionally dark irises. "I thought you had finished your hunt for me a long time ago?"

"It's nothing personal. The Great Witch has a bounty on your head. And I need the money they offer for your head. I happened to be passing by and heard your name. I decided to try my luck."

"And they say it's a bad thing to gossip." You mock your bonded companions. "Since when does Reyana want me dead?"

"The leadership in the coven has changed since you were gone. Reyana is dead. Luke has taken command."

"That son of a whore..."

"Believe me, I hate him more than you. But I need this reward, Y/N." She says, sending you a serious, meaningful look. You sigh, knowing exactly what you need in exchange for her 'loyalty' to you.

You stand up and go to Nikolai's bag, rummaging through his things, pulling out a pouch of gold and playing with King Ravka's coins, looking from under your lashes at your old companion.

"How much does he value my head then?"

"5 thousand gold bars for your heart. And thousand for your head."

You scoff at the absurdity of the amount. You fiddle with the purse a little, casting a spell of limitlessness on it. You sigh, closing your eyes as you use up a significant portion of your powers on such a… trivial thing. You knew perfectly well that Jelena didn't have the strength or resources to acquire such a spell. None of the lesser witches did. But you were no ordinary witch…

"Nice. Maybe I could give them to him myself; it would be more rewarding than watching over those spoilt children." You mumble, sitting down by the fire and throwing the purse at her.

She raises her eyebrows, turning it over, trying to spill all its contents. When she sees that the coins are not running out, she raises her eyebrows, gives you a wicked, wolfish grin, and puts it in her bag.

"Since when have you been dealing with kings and queens?" She asks curiously, nodding at the people she has trapped.

"Since when circumstances force me." You mumble and dig into the pocket of your coat. You lean in and hand her a roll of paper, text starting to appear on it. “Here. An illusion spell. Strong enough to trick Luke into thinking you gave him my head and not some farmer or criminal’s.”

"He'll kill me if he finds out I've deceived him. Why would I help you and make him believe you're dead?"

"Who said you knew it wasn't me? Sell him a story; you can lie, right? You'll have your money, and I'll have peace... for a while. We both know I'm stronger than you. You would never win anyway. So take advantage of my generous and good heart and leave. Or I will make sure you won't be able to."

"Smart. And cunning. But watch yourself. There are many besides me who will try. And when no one succeeds… Luke himself will come for you." She warns you and stands up, dusting the dirt off herself.

"Oh I know. And I can't wait." You promise her, the dark, cold tone of your voice sending shivers down the young witch's spine.

"By the way, your boyfriend is cute. I understand now why you killed half of our coven for him." She adds with a wicked smile, nodding her head in Aleksander's direction. "If he didn't stink of you so much… I might still be tempted." She says, licking her lips.

"He is centuries older than you." You growl at her, fighting the blush that wants to bloom on your cheeks at her words.

"Has that ever stopped us?" She asks cheekily, waving at you before disappearing into the fire she started. You giggle, finally letting yourself lose control.

You take deep breaths and press your hands to the ground as a trail of blood begins to run down your nose. Damn necklace. The lack of it has weakened you more than you thought it would.

“What the fuck was that?” Ulla asks, being at your side sooner than you’d like.

You take a few ragged breaths, feeling her gently brush your hair away from your face and soothingly rub your back as shivers run through your body. You were too old for this shit.

"The past. And too much use of magic. Don't worry, lapushka. It'll pass… in a few hours." You assure her and place a hand on her shoulder, standing on wobbly legs. "Take care of these idiots. I need to take a nap for a while." You say and trudge to your tent.

Aleksander's glance is duly ignored by you.

“Will you stay for dinner?” Aleksander asks you, trying to control little Ulla who was running around the room, already setting the table for three.

“Will you stay forever?” His little sister asks you, completely ignoring her brother. You laugh, amazed at how happily she welcomed you just hours after you first met.

You kneel down to be at her height and send a few dust butterflies her way, cleaning the table that has been unused for a long time.

"I will stay as long as you want me to." You declare solemnly, to which Ulla throws herself into your arms with joy, chattering about how she will finally have someone suitable to play with dolls, because Aleksander, with his too low voice, is not suitable for pretending to be a princess.

You smile, stroking her dark hair. You lift your head to take a glimpse at your lover, but instead of seeing that beautiful, tender look he gave you whenever you and Ulla had one of these interactions, he looks at you with a blank, distant gaze. And from the shadows gently swirling in the corner of the room and his clenched fists, you can tell that nothing pleasant is on his mind.

"Ulla, go get some bread from the kitchen. Y/N, she must be starving after this exhausting day." The girl nods on command and runs excitedly for food. You know perfectly well that her obedience will not last long. She will disappear the moment her excitement dies down. "Don't promise her such a thing."

"Why? Are you bored of me already?"

"Because we both know perfectly well that sooner or later you'll leave us." You open your mouth to start arguing with him, but he continues, not giving you the opportunity. "You... won't be living as long as we will."

"Aleksander..." You mumble and try to put a hand on his shoulder, but he pulls away from you before you can.

He grips the back of the wooden chair, barely sparing you a glance, and your heart aches to see him going back down the old paths of isolation Baghra had led him down.

You won't let him do that though. Not after he's claimed you as his. You walk over to him and gently cup his cheek in your hand, briefly appreciating the way his delicate stubble teases your skin before you pull him in for a kiss, momentarily dispelling his dark thoughts and the shadows he's unwittingly let loose.

You loved kissing him. His soft lips against yours, the quiet sighs every time you tenderly caressed his cheek, his hair, the way he trembled under the smallest act of your undeniable love and tenderness. You loved him. Madly. To death. Sometimes so much that it worried you how much power he had over you. Almost as much power you had over him.

"I promise you. I will find a way. I AM finding a way. And I will stay forever. Even if I have to claw my way into eternity, I'll fucking do it because I love you. More than anything in this saint-forsaken world." You whisper shakily and press your lips to his in a silent promise.

Aleksander wraps his arms around you, enveloping you in a tight embrace as he presses you against his chest, hiding you from the world in the safe warmth of him around you. He buries his face in the crook of your neck, allowing himself to be vulnerable with you - rare moments that you hold close to your heart.

"I... just don't give her false hope... and me." He mumbles against the skin of your icy neck, sending shivers down your spine from his warm breath.

"My dear Shadow Summoner... I will never leave you. I promise. Nothing will take me away from you. Neither Baghra nor death." You say, stroking his hair and pressing a kiss to his temple.

"I would be careful with Baghra." He mumbles a quiet warning against your ear, and you giggle, pressing kisses along the line of his jaw.

"I am not scared of shadows anymore." You promise him tenderly and capture his lips in a gentle, slow kiss, enjoying the way he entwines his hand in your hair and pulls you as close to him as possible, as if he wanted to make sure that really no force would tear you away from his embrace.

"I love you. I will always love you." He whispers against your lips and rests his forehead against yours, inhaling your scent deeply.

"I love you too."

Your bubble of peace only lasts for a moment. A few seconds later you hear quick, small footsteps as his sister returns.

"I found honey!" She exclaims happily and places the jar in the middle of the table, right next to the bread.

You give her a smile, ignoring Aleksander's embarrassed blush and destroying his attempts to explain the small supplies of their pantry by announcing that you're going fishing tomorrow. After all, they had to eat something.

As it turned out later, you had never been happier than that night, eating bread with honey in the company of the two people most important to you.

"So? Who was that?" Alina takes you out for a chat as soon as you leave your tent.

You look around the clearing, seeing Zoya and Nikolai sitting next to each other with bowls of food, Ulla writing in her book next to a still-tied Aleksander, and Baghra watching it all from a distance with a sneer on her face. It's a good thing Feydor, Ivan, Genya and David had the decency not to stare at you like the rest of them did when you went closer to the campfire for food.

"I have no idea what you're on about." You mumble, rubbing your aching temples and with a grateful smile you take the plate of food from Ulla. Deer. Oh the irony.

"No? So who immobilized us all 4 hours ago?"

"Maybe Ivan was having a bad day." You say evasively, biting into the meat. You really had the feeling that you were going to kill more than just that deer today. You wonder how much the world would miss Alina Starkov.

"Y/N…" Ulla starts, giving you one of her damn looks that you can't refuse. Bitch. She must have learned that from her brother.

"You have your past and I have my past. You don't need to know anything more."

"But our past does not threaten our mission." You raise an eyebrow at Alina's words and cast a significant glance at Aleksander - your first in weeks. You freeze as his dark irises stare back at you.

Another mistake you made today. You think to yourself as you let yourself drown in the blackness of his eyes. And you see many things there. Betrayal, pain, rage, but also... concern. For reasons obvious only to saints, he cared about what happened today. He really cared.

Before you can escape to the safe materials of your tent walls, Ulla unties the gag and ropes binding Aleksander. (The condition he was here under – he was to have shackles blocking his powers and a gag if he tried to throw another fold. They only took them off when you were nearby to eventually stop him.)

Your delayed reflexes cause you to stand, but you don't get very far before his cold, commanding voice echoes through the camp.

"Stop."

You freeze. Your heart beats a few times, but you don't turn to him yet, your gaze goes to the forest path that could take you far away from here and this uncomfortable conversation.

"Don't even try." It's like he reads your mind. A second later, he's standing right behind you, grabbing your arm and forcing you to turn to face him. You lift your chin, giving him an emotionless look, silently hoping he can't feel your heartbeat through his grip on your wrist. "Who was that?"

"My friend. Old one. From my last coven." You answer as briefly as you can, trying to ignore the way he stares at you intensely, as if he wants to rip the true, better answer out of your soul through your eyes.

"That's what I heard. Same with the part where she talks about how you killed half of them for me. Why?

A shiver runs down your spine, your heart clenching at the dry, indifferent way he asks you the question. So you do the one thing you do best – you enter a self-defence mood.

"None of your fucking business." You growl, practically spitting angrily in his face.

He raises an eyebrow at you, the tension between you so palpable that out of the corner of your eye you see Alina nodding at the others to move away from the two of you, clearly taking them out of the potential path of your mutual rage.

And good. You've never desired more to hit him ever before. To sink your claws into his heart and make him suffer as you did. To send him the darkest curse you have in your books. To leave him as miserable, as abandoned, as hurt, as angry as you have been all these centuries without him.

He deserves that for being a hypocrite. He... he had no right to worry about you when he was acting like this. So cold to you. Like nothing ever connected you. Like you where nothing to him.

"Everything you do in my name is my damn business. But let's move on to more pressing matters, why on earth was she able to hurt you? Why were you bleeding? I thought you were beyond… that you were insensitive to any attack."

"It's none of your damn business anymore." You repeat firmly, seething with rage that he has the nerve to be outraged at you for allowing yourself to be hurt. Like you're begging Jelena to put a dagger to your neck.

"Y/N..." Ulla's warning fades beneath the rush of shadows across the clearing.

His burst of power is so sudden and so fast that you can't block it, not with so much emotion churning inside you. And the bastard took advantage of the moment perfectly.

As if from a distance you can hear Ulla and Alina's screams as she tries to shine her light through his shadows, but Aleksander is stronger even than the Sun Summoner with her amplifiers.

Which is logical. He's had centuries of practice.

Without your necklace, all you can do is stand there, dazed by the sudden darkness around you. And though his shadow creatures growl around you, though you should be looking around frantically for a way to escape from him, all you can do is look into his eyes as he maneuvers you and pins you to a tree with his body.

You see many things in his eyes. Fury, rage, spite, and resentment, most of all. He wraps his hand around your neck, tightening it, reopening the wound that had somehow healed itself during your brief nap.

He watches the blood run down the column of your neck, staining his fingers. His grip on your throat tightens. You grunt and snort, fighting for air, but he doesn't seem to notice at all. He stares at your red and black blood, completely ignoring your gaze.

"Go on. Kill me. Do it." You hoarse into his face, his grip on your neck tightening.

Shadows circle around you like crazy, you can hear the others' cries in the distance, but they're effectively muffled the moment he leans down and rests his forehead against yours.

You freeze, completely unaware of what's going on. How can he be so hateful towards you one moment and then… hold you so gently, like you're still the only thing in this damn world that matters to him?

"You're a damn poison. A plague. How many times... how many times when I think I've finally gotten rid of you, you come back and…" He sighs, and you feel his breath tremble slightly as he traces the wound on your neck with his index finger. "I've dreamed of killing you as many times as I have of having you in my arms again."

The confession catches you off guard a little. You wonder if he wants to sweeten your death with sweet lies, but you know Aleksander. He doesn't lie. He just avoids the truth that's inconvenient for him, but he's never lied to you... unlike you.

"Same here." You mumble as your noses brush.

His lips so close to yours, memories of the days when you had every right to press your lips against his, to feast on him like he was the best delicacy in all of Ravka. He was still... just not yours anymore.

"I hate you." He whispers, shattering your heart into another thousand little pieces.

"I know." You answer, swallowing hard. After a while he pulls away from you. No hesitation. No trembling. As if pulling away from you was as easy as pulling away from a stranger. A slip in his composed stance. That was all you could count on.

The lack of his hands on your body, the cold without his touch becomes something much more uncomfortable than his gentle strangling of your neck. You wonder what would be better, death by his hand, as he holds you, or without him, living each day alone with the ghostly memory of his touch. Indeed, there are fates worse than death.

"Never again… never give it to me again." He says and pulls your necklace out of the pocket of his kefta. The glass heart with his blood rests on your neck again. He gently lifts the material of your shirt and hides it under it, covering it with his hand. Your heart beats like crazy under his palm. Pathetic how small and helpless you felt under his slightest touch. How desperate you were for him like a dry well for water. "I don't want… don't leave me. Not you."

"But you hate me." You mumble, unable to meet his gaze. Not if you want to maintain some dignity and not cry in front of him.

"And I've known you too long for you to die before me. Just like everyone else."

If he knew that with each such confession your heart was dying in longing for him, he didn't seem at all merciful today to spare you them. Or maybe he just didn't want to be merciful to you anymore.

"I have no intention of dying after you." You respond with a challenge of your own, congratulating yourself internally as you see his gaze harden and his hand involuntarily clench into a fist. It felt good to know you could hurt him as much as he could hurt you. That you still affect him...

"You killed those witches… to gain the spell to create this. Yes or no?" He asks, his hand tightening on the glass necklace hidden under your shirt.

You swallow, looking away from him. He’s having none of it. He grabs your chin and forces you to look at him properly, to confront the pieces of your past you’ve desperately wanted to keep from him.

"Yes." You mumble, unable to stop yourself from leaning into his touch.

"You are a monster." He responds, stroking your jawline with his thumb as he looks at you with a faraway gaze, thinking intensively.

"Everyone with as many centuries lived as we do is one." You state, undaunted by his accusation.

All was fair in love and war.

And when you were at war with Ravka, Fjerda, with the whole world against you, when he and Ulla were everything to you... what else could you have done? Nothing. If you could turn back time, you would go back and do the exact same thing.

Love could make you crazy, reckless, selfish, monstrous, but if you could live another day with Aleksander... you would do the same and worse. Much worse. You could do anything in the name of your love for him.

Even kill yourself.

Even live for him forever.

"Who is chasing you?" He asks, but seeing you turn your head away from him again, he cups your cheek and forces you to look at him properly. He leans in a little, his fingers unconsciously caressing your skin, which burns from his touch. And you want, no, you CRAVE more. So much more… "Y/N."

Your name falls like a whispered prayer from his lips, so tender, so different from the way he treats you now, so similar to the way he whispered it in the middle of the night and pulled you into the safe embrace of his arms.

You almost cry. You almost cry for him; you almost cling to him, crying your heart out, explaining to him the sacrifices you've made for him, how many enemies you've made by giving him your heart and yourself completely. But you don't. No, knowing he'll pull away from you the moment he gets the information he needs.

You weren't that much of a masochist.

"It's none of your business. I'm not yours. And you're not mine either."

You don't know who you're reminding of this, whether it's him, yourself, or both of you, but after your words he goes back to his cold demeanor towards you.

"You're right. Sometimes I forget about it." He pulls away from you as if burned.

You feel him shrinking the number of his shadows, letting his power hide again. After a moment, a blinding light appears instead of his shadows, and then you are back in the clearing, Aleksander, as usual, an ocean away from you.

"Good job, Alinochka." He praises her, giving her one of his smirks that once made you melt. Now it makes bile rise in your throat.

You know perfectly well that he's saying this specifically to hurt you, to show you the truth of your words. To prove to you that after all these centuries he has moved on and is truly no longer yours.

But that didn't mean it hurt any less.

And when you see Alina staring at him with the same inscrutable, angry, and lovesick gaze you had all those centuries ago at the beginning of your relationship, you know one thing.

You were slowly getting tired of apologising to him for loving him.

It's been ages. It felt like ages. I hope you enjoyed it! Any comments/messages/hearts are greatly appreciated and thank you so much!!! If you want to, let me know what you think 🥰🖤🖤🖤

Taglist (I hope everyone who wants to be here is here): @aoi-targaryen @chelseyyouraverageluigi @watersquirtpewpewboomm @summersummoner-pat @barnes70stark

@zeeader @the-desilittle-bird

@thepassionatereader @budugu

@sinistersnakey @diaries-of-a-hopelessromantic

@aryhyuuga

@oh-thats-cute

@meadows5

@dreamtheatre

@sinistersnakey

@lovelydoveval

@shatteredheartofdarkness

@m-ichelles-world

@ariesmai

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[simp2537]

Masterlist

🔥-Smut 🧨-Angst

🩹-Hurt/Comfort 🧸-Fluff

🫶🏻-Yandere

🗝️-Dark/Darkish Aleksander Morozova

Series

Moon Helios: Y/n Starkov a legendary warrior, fierce protecter and monster. Bred and broken in servitude to her saint. She knows nothing but her mission in life. To live, and die at her saint’s command. Aleksander Morozova the most powerful of the grisha, a monster. A general who has been fighting alone for hundreds of years. She hates him, he needs her. 🔥🧨🩹🧸🗝️

Series trigger warnings: Child abuse, anxiety, religious trauma, racism, manipulation, division of canon, Alina hate?, trauma, ptsd, bullying, insomnia, self-neglect, mental health issues, guilt tripping, cult theme, blood consumption, cannibalism?? Lost of murder, talks of SA in other characters, Sexual acts, future smut, predatory behavior(not from Aleks) and all other shadow and bone stuff

Act I: The Sanctuary Act l : The academy Act I : Burn Marks Act I : Where’s my epic background music Act I : Necklace for a Lifetime Act I : The Motherland Act I : A Helios is Born Act I : The Return

Act II : The Blood Helios

Series Blurs

I Have a Dream🧸🩹

Oneshots

Marking (Aleksander Morozova x fem!reader) 🔥 Touch her and die (Aleksander Morozova x fem!reader) 🩹🧨 Scars (Aleksander Morozova x wife reader)🧨🩹 Tension (Aleksander Morozova x fem!reader)🔥

Harry Potter

Series

N/a

Oneshots

A Miracle (Mattheo Riddle x pregnant!reader) 🩹 A Fathers love (Matthe Riddle x wife!reader)🩹🧸🧨 Reunion (King!Siris Black x fem!reader)🩹🧸

John Wick

Series

Pupllis: She was a weapon from birth. Born and bred to kill for the high table. John Wick a legendary assassin who knew more fame than any. She was a gift to him, he didn’t want to keep her. As there time together passes and they learn to care for one anyone the High Table comes for them. platonic! John wick x child!fem! Reader.🩹🧨🔥🗝️🧸 (Smut is not with John but future Oc)

Chapters One

Oneshots

N/a

My Hero Academia

Series

The Final Alice: Aizawa never wanted to be a father but that plan was thrown away when he found a girl during a mission. This girl was like no child he’d ever seen before. As she grew her power and background remained a mystery. How will her life turn when she meets a charming red head with sharp teeth and an explosive blonde. platonic!Aizawa x daughter!reader, KiriBaku x fem!reader.🧨🩹🔥🧸

Help Pick A Hero Name Help Pick A Hero Name pt 2 Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Chapter Seven Chapter Eight Chapter Nine Chapter Ten Chapter Eleven

Oneshots

N/a

Narnia

Series

From the Stars : A star fairy and the prince of the kingdom that destroyed hers. What could happen? Prince Caspian x fem!reader🧨🧨🧨🔥🩹🗝️

Sneak Peak Star Fairy Royal Bloodline Cast Act I ~ Cast

Oneshots

Yandere Prince Caspian x reader headcannons🫶🏻 Something New (King Caspian x wife reader) 🔥

Percy Jackson

Series

N/a

Oneshots

Runaway (Percy Jackson x gn!reader)🧨🧨🩹🫶🏻🗝️ Misery is the Truest way of Love (Yandere Pereabeth x gn!reader)🫶🏻🧨🗝️ Lovers Quarrel (Pereabeth x gn!reader)🧨🩹 Stage Lovers (Yandere Perceabth x male!reader) 🧨🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻🗝️

Blurs

Bottom Percy 🔥

Winx Club

Series

Fairy of Monsters : Alastaria the forgotten sister of Bloom. She slowly begins to unravel her true nature, thread by thread. How will she survive the many trials of her life. Sky of Eraklyon x Oc. Dark Winx Club fix.🩹🧨🗝️

Chapters one : Advesperascit  Chapter two : Monochopsis Chapter three : Kalopsia

Oneshots

N/a

The 100

Series

Project SS: It stared as an idea. Take a dying child and infect them with the SS serum. These children would be raised in isolation, to be the future soldiers for the ark, then earth.

Most died out over time.

Not her, Not Y/n Kane. The only child of Marcus Kane and his wife Alice Kane. After her birth, born with a weak heart Alice Kane decided to give her to the scientists that were working on the project.

Forging her husband’s signature upon the document Alice Kane was sentenced to death. The deal though and Y/n Kane became the most deadly of the super soldiers.

When protecting a friend she finds herself in a cell. Then in her way to earth with the rest of the 100. How will her love continue knowing she’s just puppet to be controlled. Will she grow out of such a horrible situation and blossom with the help of her friends and loved ones. Or will she fall so deep into her created identity that there is no hope. Bellamy Blake x fem!reader.🔥🧨🩹🗝️

Sneak Peak Chapter One Chapter Two

Dead Boy Detectives

Series

Scylla: She’s a half-breed mutt and he’s a crow. She was trapped in hell for hundreds of years before she met a teenage ghost who helped her escape. They later met another boy who would soon die and join there friendship. The group created the Dead Boy Detective Agency. Later as their classes become more difficult pieces of her life before her friends is slowly revealed. What should happen when she met and falls deeply and helplessly in love with an enemy crow. 🔥🧨🩹

Sneak peek Cast Chapter One Chapter Two

Oneshots

Poly Crystal Palace x mermaid reader x Niko Sasaki🧸

Twilight

Series

Hunter : When Charlie and Renee’s relationship was breaking the pair thought it’d be a good idea for them to have another child. However they couldn’t convince another child. So instead they chose to adopt a two year old little girl with a strange mark on his wrist. Bella was four when she met her new little sister. At first she didn’t like Y/n. She was always taking her dad’s attention.

Till one day Bella cut her knee on the sidewalk while playing. The first person that ran to her when she was hurt was Y/n. From that day forth Bella and Y/n were inseparable.

When Y/n was five her parents realized their marriage wasn’t working. Then they realized how smart Y/n was. Then two men from another country came and told Renee that they wanted Y/n to go to a special school for extraordinary children. They paid Renee and she sent Y/n off when she was five.

What happens when Y/n turns fifteenth and goes home. Will how different Y/n is change her life. Will the new being in her home change her.🧸🩹🧨🗝️

Hunter Prologue: Last Defenders Chapter One : Reunited Chapter Two : Home Sweet Home

Request list/Requests are Open

[undiscovered-horizon]

In Emerald Hearts, Emerald Minds - Nikolai Lantsov x Reader

[mentions of unwanted advances + suggested groping + suggestive/sexual (consensual) themes]

☽ REQUESTS ARE OPEN ☾

SUMMARY: When Vasily asks you to forget his half-brother and marry him instead, you escape the Little Palace along Alina. Nikolai realizes something strange is going on when Kaz mentions seeing a similar emerald ring on the woman that came with the Sun Summoner. With how much you and Nikolai have been running in circles to find each other, the reunion aboard Volkvolny feels almost fated.

WORDCOUNT: ~ 4.6k

>>Grishaverse-inspired playlist&lt;<

It feels like the Winter Fete has been going on forever. The champagne keeps on being poured, the guests keep on dancing and the circus acts just keep on performing as though tomorrow is a mere mirage, a concept of a certain time period that never actually comes. Inside those walls of gold and marble, the misery devouring all of Ravka seems like nothing beyond a mad nightmare - something so removed from reality, it’s hilarious in its ridiculousness. Everyone is so carefree and happy you almost take their joy as your own.

Almost.

The orchestra begins playing Waltz of the Flowers and you feel your throat tighten. Despite doing your best not to, your mind relives that fateful night when everything changed. For the longest time, you’d been claiming that the change was for the better but now, standing alone for another year in a row and watching the dashing aristocrats spin to the music, you’re not so sure anymore.

“You really need to stop doing this,” Nikolai says firmly. Although his tone is decisive and clearly unwilling to accept defiance, a pronounced hint of amusement lives between his words - a thread of light-heartedness, one might say.

Your eyebrows gently furrow. “Doing what?”

“Smiling at me like that. Any longer and I might ask you to marry me.”

It feels like you’re about to burst at the seams. Trying to contain your emotions, and failing at it quite horribly, you bite your lower lip. “I might say yes.”

“Where have you gone, Kolya?” you whisper under your breath. The gloss of vacancy covering your eyes blurs the dancing bodies into one mass of faceless strangers. But it also makes you not notice someone approaching you.

“I find it quite admirable.”

Vasily’s voice startles you. To your now-gone relief, you didn’t have the displeasure of running into him all evening - until now. If you were to list all of the things about the older Lantsov son that makes your skin crawl, you’d be done by the time another Winter Fete is organized. The top of the list, however, deserves to be mentioned as it’s an inseparable part of your every interaction with the prince: he’s quite adamant and crude in his desire to be more than just a future brother-in-law to you.

“Excuse me?” you stutter out.

That patronizing look on his face is now accompanied by a cocky half-grin as he realizes he caught you off-guard. “Your devotion to my brother. For all we know, he might be already dead, Saints’ protect him.”

“Don’t even say that!” you hiss at him. Right after, you look around to check whether one of the guests has noticed your unpleasant exchange.

Despite what you’ve just said, you know he’s right. There’s no way you can be sure that your Kolya is either dead or alive. Perhaps this is the detail further ripping your heart apart - you don’t know anything about his fate; you’re mourning, although you’re yet to see the coffin. You haven’t for a few years now and each passing month of silence only made court gossip more cruel and bold.

“All I’m saying, dearest,” Vasily begins quietly as his hand drags along your arm, “is that the moment the news of Nikolai’s death reaches the Grand Palace, you’ll be thrown out. On the other hand, I can make you the Queen of Ravka. And unlike my brother, I won’t disappear off the face of the Earth and forget about his beloved lady.”

The word of endearment is dripping with sarcasm as it leaves his chapped lips. His breath reeks of alcohol and you unknowingly turn your head away. Vasily seems to think you’re about to leave his side, so his hand tightly grips your arm. The hold is almost bruising. He yanks you even closer towards himself.

“Kolya hasn’t forgotten about me,” you say in a shaky voice. Maybe he’s not as foolish as he appears and Vasily is genuinely trying to break you down.

The prince studies your face for a moment, definitely noticing how shaken you are. His eyes have the strangest glint to them - something between desire and contempt. “Is that so?” he barely stifles a grim laugh. “He would have written you a letter if that were true, no?”

Tears sting your eyes. Vasily is certainly smarter, or at least more cruel, than he lets on. He knows exactly what to say to get into your head. It’s a startling difference between him and Nikolai - only one of them does what he can to keep a smile on your face. Well, did.

His dirty, rough hand grabs your chin. Vasily forces you to look at him, his smile wavers upon noticing your desperation. “Consider your options, зайка,” he purrs out. The prince’s other hand trails your face. “The choice is yours.”

A tear falls down your cheek. You feel it rolling across your skin and you silently hope the guests surrounding you are watching this scene. Then, you lean in even closer to Vasily’s face. The whisper leaves your lips like a viper’s venomous hiss: "I will marry you the day you lay his dead body at my feet."

To your surprise, Vasily drops his hands and takes a step back. Despite the self-assured smile on his face, you can see the fury inside his eyes. “As you wish.” He bows curtly, turns on his heel and marches away, undoubtedly looking for another glass of alcohol and a lady naive enough to warm his bed.

The palace suddenly feels stuffy and overcrowded; the music is too loud, the plethora of smells make your head spin.

Outside. You need to get outside.

Bumping into several guests and mumbling half-coherent apologies, you run through the halls of the Little Palace. When the cold, night air hits your flushed cheeks, only then do you stop. Taking in a deep breath, you can actually feel your thoughts becoming clearer. 

With each gust of freezing wind, all the anger and sadness is leaving your shaking body. Vasily just wanted to get a rise out of you and, as much as you don’t want to admit it, he succeeded. Unlike he claims, Nikolai surely is alive. Maybe bruised or sick or not sleeping well but as long as there’s no news about him being dead, he is as alive as one can be. The same starry sky hangs above your and his heads. Perhaps, in this small moment of longing, he’s thinking about you too. Wherever he is.

A tired sigh leaves your lips. You’re about to turn around and go back inside when a silhouette moving in the night catches your attention. The shape is swift although careful like a lizard approaching a fly. You see them looking around before running for another few meters only to hide behind a bush or piece of architecture.

Curious and a little scared, you follow the stranger towards one of the carriages. Quietly, you get close enough to grab their wrist. The shape lets out a gasp and turns around to look at you.

“Alina?!” you whisper. What in Saints’ mercy is she doing? You look at her warm, casual clothes and the bag on her back. “Are you running away?”

“I need to leave,” she answers equally quietly. Her voice as well as her stare is filled with certainty - she’s convinced beyond reasonable doubt this is the right thing to do. “Please, don’t try to stop me.”

You let go of her hand. “Stop you?” A dry chuckle leaves your lips. “I’m coming with you.”

“What?” she deadpans. Alina is staring at you with a vacant stare and her mouth slightly agape. Apparently exchanging royal comforts for hay and stolen apples is unthinkable.

“If I have to spend one more day around Vasily, I will murder someone.”

Alina slowly nods her head - she can definitely understand the sentiment. A dimwitted Fjerdan would have more charm than the older prince. But then she squints her eyes, looking at you with a sense of scepticism.

“Out there, there won’t be warm beds and three-course dinners, you know?”

“I know,” you answer with a careless shrug. Loitering and wandering isn’t for ladies of your sort, it’s like throwing a finless fish into a tank with sharks. Despite that, you’re quite convinced the means justify the end, at least in this scenario. “But out there is my Kolya. And I’m done politely waiting for him.”

A shadow of sadness covers her face. If there’s anyone who can understand your plight, it’s her. In fact, she is luckier than you - she saw her lover maybe an hour ago. Pleasant or unpleasant, the meeting confirmed to her that Mal is at least alive. It’s not a privilege you could afford.

“Then let’s go,” she says to you before opening the chest in the back of the carriage. Forgetting all of your etiquette and social standing, you climb into the compartment with her. Towards adventure or death, you’re going somewhere.

“The ring gave you away,” Kaz announces. “It’s too expensive for a bodyguard.”

Jesper knits his eyebrows together, suddenly remembering something. He leans towards Kaz but speaks a little too loudly for the question to be inconspicuous: “Didn’t that girl wear the same-”

When Kaz’s cold glare meets Jesper’s squinted eyes, the dark-skinned man immediately closes his mouth halfway through the question. Both of them sit back as they were but the cat is already out of the bag. Well, not entirely - half of it is peeking out of the metaphorical sack.

Nikolai looks between them with unmissable suspicion. Although he’s heard enough to be aware of the possibility that the Sun Summoner isn’t travelling by herself, this is the first time either of the Crows admits it.

His heart begins to beat slightly quicker: Alina run away from the Little Palace along with another woman and that lady was wearing a royal jewel at the time. As long as Vasily didn’t lose his signet on one of his distasteful escapades, the course of events points to only one person - you. Shoving his restless excitement into the deepest chasms of his heart, Nikolai manages to remain his composure:

“Who was wearing that ring?” The prince-turned-privateer unknowingly fiddles with the heavy jewellery on his finger. Noticing the Crows’ reluctance, he makes them an offer: “If you tell me who you saw wearing an emerald ring, I might, say, give you ten minutes to escape.” Nikolai vaguely gestures to the closed window on his right-hand side.

Kaz knows there’s no point in lying any longer. The man in front of him is not only well-informed but also smarter than he looks, making the Crow wonder whether he also knows the answer to this question but prefers to play some kind of a game. In any event, he’s done his part of the deal and his ex-accomplices are left to their own devices. Additionally, he could really use those ten minutes. “A young woman that accompanied Alina Starkov. High-born, confident, decisive. Not a Grisha as far as I know.”

“Not a Lantsov, obviously,” Jesper chips in.

Brekker’s keen eyes catch the barely noticeable change in Sturmhond’s expression - the corner of his mouth merely stuttered up and down but it is enough to tell Kaz as much as he needs:

“You know her.”

Know her? If Nikolai had a weaker grip on his emotions at the moment, he’d laugh until his stomach and diaphragm hurt and then he’ll burst with laughter once more, unspeakably joyous that he might get to see her sooner than he thought. Yes, he does know her but in the way heart knows blood and lungs know air. She’s the ligament that keeps his bones together, the fibres that construct his muscles, the very blood that runs in his veins. Does the Moon simply know the stars? Do trees know their roots and branches?

But for now, he needs to stay focused. 

“Not really,” Sturmhond answers while scrunching his nose. “Many aristocrats wear a ring like that. While I may know of a lot of them, I hardly know anything about them.”

Kaz fights back a mocking half-grin begging to twist his thin lips. “I’d argue that an emerald in Ravka is a rather rare gem.”

“Hers is probably genuine. Mine’s stolen.”

Silence falls between the three men. Nikolai and Kaz are staring each other down, battling in some kind of war of wits and nerves, waiting for the other to give in. Jesper is stealing glances at both of them, feeling the cold tension rise in the air.

Against his deep-seated desire, Kaz doesn’t inquire further about the emeralds or the strange coincidence that the two enigmatic characters wearing them might know each other. He sits back in the chair, his shoulders visibly drop. As much as he’d love to dig deeper, he’d much rather get out of here and reclaim his freedom that is now endangered.

“Well, gentlemen,” Nikolai begins in an upbeat tone, “your ten minutes start now.”

Without saying anything else, he leaves the room. Only then, when the dark, wooden door close behind him, does he let suppressed emotions wash over him. A quiet chuckle brushes past his lips and for a moment even tears sting his eyes. Delight, worry, relief - conflicting sensations merge into one, completely overpowering flame burning inside his chest.

Maybe he doesn’t have the Sun Summoner and he still needs to come up with a plan to catch her but Nikolai hasn’t been this happy for a while now: his солиышко is alright, still making the world brighter and warmer. If he can get to Alina Starkov, he might see her again, although he begins to wonder whether she wishes to see him after all those years of silence and ignorance. But if he can see her, just witness the marvel of her entire being even for one last second, he’ll be cured of the longing and loneliness that has been gnawing at him ever since he left Os Alta.

You’re following the Shu man to what you assume is his captain’s cuddy. The ship creeks and groans under the weight of the crew as well as the power of the waves. The bussing crewmen spare the three of you a glance, only to show disinterest and go back to their duties. It’s a nice change compared to the kerchen ship you travelled on to Novyi Zem, where the captain asked Alina and you to stay under the deck because of the sailors’ superstition. After getting off the ship, it took you a good week to wash out the reek of cured cod from your clothes and hair. Sometimes you still felt like you can smell it in the air, even in the dusty wind sweeping through Novyi Zem.

Your ‘guide’ pushes the door and they swing open with a creak, the list of the ship aiding the motion. Except for the squeaky hinges, probably rusting faster than anyone can manage, Volkvolny is in good shape. In fact, it looks brand new - no mould or woodworms.

“Captain, request for charter,” the stocky stranger announces with a hint of amusement or excitement in his voice. Despite his imposing visage, the Shu man has made a good impression on you but the long sword on his back kept you vigilant against getting too comfortable in his company.

Only when he moves to the side, presenting the three of you to his captain, do you see the face of the infamous Sturmhond.

You want to laugh. In fact, you have to clench your fists to stop yourself from bursting out with laughter. This situation feels like the strangest coincidence that you can think of, which in turn makes you suspect that it’s not a coincidence at all. Because what are the odds?

Nikolai’s face momentarily brightens up when he recognizes you, a new glint lights up his eyes. He looks different than you remember but in all the right ways: his shoulders look broader and his hair is longer, curling in a way that makes him appear more infantile. You remembered him as a handsome man but the Nikolai in front of you is beautiful enough to be considered unreal.

He's staring into you like a deer caught in headlights until Tolya hands him Alina’s unusual means of payment. As Nikolai is turning the piece of jewellery in his fingers, you notice another change: his hands look rougher, definitely scarred from all the adventures you hope you’re yet to hear about.

The blond prince turns his attention back to Alina, Mal and you. “A gold hairpin can get you anywhere. But an emerald ring?” He gestures to you. “It can get you everywhere.”

“It’s not for sale,” you answer, although you know he’s not trying to buy it. After all, he’s the one that gave it to you.

“I don’t want it.” Nikolai shakes his head. Then, a flirty smile appears on his face. “Looks better on you anyway, doll.”

You’re about to respond to his remark when his attention is once again placed on Alina. “Now, Tolya says you’re looking for a charter. Where are we sailing?”

Alina begins the story with ‘the creation of the world’ as your mother used to say: the Little Palace, Darkling, Morozova’s amplifiers and the Fold. Nikolai nods along, never giving away that he’s privy to most of the story. He doesn’t believe in the Sea Whip at first but that’s hardly his fault - not too long ago people wouldn’t believe in the existence of the Sun Summoner and now she’s standing beside you, nervously rubbing her hand. As you have expected from the moment you saw that Nikolai is Sturmhond, he agrees to the insanity of taking up the quest to catch the amplifier.

“Tolya will show you around.” He sends you off. You’re about to follow your friends out of the cuddy when he adds: “You, emerald lady, I’d like to talk to in private.”

Alina gives you a concerned look (‘blink twice if you need help’)  but you only smile and nod at her in response. With Mal tugging at her arm, she reluctantly leaves you and Sturmhond alone.

The moment the door closes behind Tolya and your friends, Nikolai runs around his desk towards you, engulfing you in a bone-crushing hug. His hand threads through your hair, pushing your head further into the crook of his neck. Even if you tried, there’s no way you can pull away or even move. Taking a deep breath, you smell the familiar fragrance of his cologne but now it’s mixed with the scent of resin, saltwater and seaweed.

Then he pulls away, looking you up and down with burning worry. “Are you alright? Are you hurt? What are you doing here?”

You swear he could be bleeding out on the floor and still he’d be apologizing for staining your clothes. It’s heartwarming that despite the years and evident change in his appearance, Kolya is still Kolya.

A wide smile enters your face. “Looking for a frisky sailor to take me on a voyage filled with indecency, obviously.”

“Well, here he is.” Nikolai points to himself and winks at you. “And he’d really like to know why you’re in Novyi Zem with the Sun Summoner and whats-his-face and not in the Grand Palace in Os Alta.”

You let out a heavy sigh and shake your head gently. “I grew tired, Kolya.” His eyebrows slant upon hearing the exhaustion in your voice. Despite the sheer happiness he feels when you say his name, the concern gnawing at his heart seems to be more powerful. “Years have gone by without you giving me even the tiniest sign that you’re alive and well. And your brother, Saint’s have mercy on him because I won’t, has been adamant about marrying me ever since you left. I told him I will accept his proposal the day he lays your dead body before me.” You make pause, noticing a strange shadow hanging over Nikolai’s face. But he’s not saying anything for a moment, so you finish what you wanted to say: “I had to get away from it all. There’s only so much uncertainty and intruding fingers a lady can take.”

“By the Saints,” he breathes out, “did Vasily lay a hand on you?”

You feel his grip around you tighten but it’s not painful, rather securing. “If you’re asking whether he hit me or forced himself on me, then no, he did not. He did, however, make it abundantly clear what he wants from me. On multiple occasions.”

Nikolai’s face twists in a scowl. The glint that lit up his eyes when he saw you is now gone, exchanged for something dark and unstable. “I’m so sorry, if I knew-”

“I know, love,” you interrupt him. He doesn’t need to announce the ends he’d go to in order to ensure you’re safe and comfortable. Nikolai has never said or done so but you’re fairly convinced he wouldn’t shy away from fistfighting Vasily if he said something less-than-savoury to you. “But neither of us could have known.”

“I promised you’d be safe in Os Alta.”

“And I promised to stay put.” You can’t keep laughter in any longer. You’re not quite sure whether your chuckle is born out of happiness or disbelief. “Now look at us.”

Suddenly, he knits his eyebrows close. At first, you think he’s confused but then the slight rise of his cheeks suggests something closer to contempt or disgust. "Would you actually marry Vasily if he gave you my dead body?"

You can only give him an indifferent shrug. "Maybe?” you ponder aloud. “If you were dead, I would lose all care about what happens to me or with me. In a way, I’d be dead too."

Nikolai takes one of your hands and kisses its fingers. Your breath hitches in your throat when you feel his warm lips against your skin. “I could never rest in peace knowing how he’s treating you.”

“Having you haunt me would be incomparably better than you just being gone. Everything is better than silence.”

His shoulders slouch. Nikolai looks away from you for a moment, admiring the floor in his cuddy but even this can’t hide his guilt and shame. “I couldn’t have just popped in for a visit. Not anywhere in Ravka.”

"You couldn't even have written me a letter?"

"Someone at the palace would recognize my handwriting. I couldn't risk it."

"Then you could have dictated the letter to one of your crew."

That self-assured, flirty smirk appears again on his face. "And scandalize my crewmen with the things I want to tell you?��

As much as you’ve dearly missed his insufferable humour, at the moment it’s making your skin crawl. “This is a serious conversation, Nikolai,” you state firmly.

“I am serious, солиышко.” The pet name rolls off his tongue with both weight and lightness as though it belongs exclusively to you and no one else can ever claim it as their own. He kisses your hand again but keeps it against his lips for a while longer. Then, he places your fingers on his chest and you can feel the soft thrumming of his heart. “Do you think I never thought about writing to you? That I didn’t stay up at night thinking about what I will tell you when we meet again? Countless letters I have begun only to tear them apart and throw them into the sea or burn them. If some people found out we know each other, you’d be in much greater danger than Darkling following your steps. I’d rather deal with the heartbreak of staying away from you than know I put you in danger because I can’t live without you.”

It brings you a grim sense of comfort that he’s been equally torn as you were over the lack of contact. You never thought about it before but Nikolai must have been worried sick, not knowing whether you’re alright and happy. Has he imagined your plight and misery as often as you did his?

“What did you write in those letters?” you ask in a shaky voice.

“I wrote about how much I miss you, how it physically hurts to consider that you might think I have abandoned you. When I was hungry, cold, tired or sick, only the memories of you made me push on. On nights when I couldn’t sleep, I’d stare at the sky above me and wonder whether you’re looking at the same stars. I wrote that wherever I go, I see your face. You are in every sunrise and sunset, every flower I see and every fire that warms me.” Nikolai lets go of your fingers, placing both of his hands on either side of your face. The softness in his eyes makes you swoon. “I only wrote the truth,” he says slowly, making sure you understand the weight of his words.

Swallowing back tears, you lean into his warm touch. “My beloved, my heart yearns for you?” you jest in a dramatic voice.

A playful smile creeps back unto his lips. “If only my heart.”

“Gross.”

“You wanted a frisky sailor.”

"You’re a pirate, not a sailor.”

"I’m a privateer,” he drones out the word as though it makes a world of a difference.

"Pirate sounds sexier."

Nikolai gives you a fake frown. “Oh, I definitely am a pirate."

Without thinking twice, he’s kissing you. The sensation is just as comforting as you remember. His soft lips are doting on you, growing needier with each peck as though this is some feverish attempt at making up the lost time. 

He pulls away to catch his breath and although you’re panting yourself, you unknowingly chase after him, unwilling to dismiss this carnal desire just yet. Nikolai seems to notice your eagerness - he flashes you a cocky grin and shortly pecks your lips again.

“You crossed Ravka, the Fold and the sea just to find me?” he whispers. His eyes are stuck to your wet, swollen mouth.

“And I’d do it a hundred more times if I had to.”

You exchange a few more hungry kisses, pecking and nipping at each other’s lips, before Nikolai continues the conversation:

“I want to say that I’m flattered but I’d rather not encourage you to do something this stupid and dangerous ever again.”

“Hate to break it to you but you took all the stupid with you.”

He rests his forehead against yours; hot, laboured breaths brush against your flushed cheeks. “I’d like to clarify that I’m not stupid, I just can’t seem to think about anything other than you.”

Nikolai wraps his arms around your waist. In a swift motion, he turns you around and pushes you against the edge of his desk. His strength surprises you when Nikolai effortlessly lifts you and places you atop the table, pushing off maps and navigation essentials. Firm, warm hands are restlessly wandering across your body, unsure where to lay or what to grab.

You gasp quietly when his fingers sneak underneath your shirt. “Is this the indecent part of the voyage, my frisky sailor?”

“By the Saints, I hope so,” he whispers against your lips. Then, he furrows his eyebrows questioningly. “Is that offensive to say around a living Saint?”

“I don’t think Alina heard you.”

His nimble fingers are quickly undoing the buttons on your clothes. “Well, she will hear you in a moment.”

“Gross,” you say with laughter in your voice but the word gets muffled as Nikolai gets back to kissing you again.

Even if the crew did hear you that day, no one dared say a word.

зайка [zay-ka] - bunny (feminine; term of endearment)

солиышко [sol-nee-shko] - little sun (unisex; term of endearment)

[cherryheairt]

Can you write something like Benji doesn’t want to get married like ever and then suddenly falls in love with his betrothed

Promenade Under a False Pretense

named! reader x Benjicot Blackwood

No description, from House Cargyll of Crownlands

When Benjicot first found out about his bethrothal, he was determined to break it off. It was not the first time his father had arranged a woman to meet his son. He hoped this would be the last, that his father would lose all hope that his son would marry a noble lady.

His last bethrothal was when he was six and ten. The Lady hailed from The Reach, a beautiful sight in the Riverlands. Lady Lannister was only a year older than him, with flowing golden hair and green eyes to match the Lannister name. A Lioness she was called, but was the furthest from one a person could be.

She was meek and shy, sensitive and soft. Lady Lannister visited Raventree Hall with her Lord father, Tyland Lannister. Benjicot had taken her on a promenade through the garden, already plotting ways to make her run back to The Reach where she belonged.

During the promenade, the young Lady seemed overjoyed to be offered so kindly a tour of her future home. But alone, Benjicot dropped his flowery words and spoke his mind directly. In the gardens, he insulted any soft points he could find on her—which were many, in his mind. Though mostly he found it easy to poke at silly flaws thar he cared nothing for. But, he knew a Lady like her would care for her own insecurities. Her hands, too manly for a woman. Her face, too sharp and sunken. Her ears, protruding when she tucked her hair behind one.

Nothing he gave a damn for, for he cared little for a woman's appearance. However, he found it too easy to make her sob and run back to her father. At supper, Lord Lannister announced that the bethrothal was to be broken because his daughter simply wasn't ready for marriage. Ben's father accepted this, though he shot his son daggers across the table. He could only smirk into his cup, celebrating his freedom still.

Now, Benjicot was a man of nine and ten. His father thought he matured enough to try his hand at another bethrothal.

"The last was a fluke." He declared to his son, though a nervous look stayed in his eyes. He knew his son too well, that his temper was nothing to be easily quelled.

Benjicot was determined to make this one run away even faster. A little challenge between himself and himself only. He would show his father that he needed no one to lead the Blackwoods.

When Lady Cargyll arrived, followed by her parents, Benjicot smirked at the sight. 'Alina', as she was named, was a beauty indeed. Most from the Crownlands were, though she held herself with an assurance and confidence befitting a much older and experienced lady. She clasped her hands in front of her, wearing a deep red dress of her house colors. Though her symbol was a white goose, she resembled nothing of one's likeness.

Across the hall, she sharply met Benjicot's eyes directly, not shying away from his green glare. She bowed slightly, lifting her skirts in a polite curtsy. "Lord Blackwood, I am honored to be welcomed into your home. I have been eager to meet my future husband for some time now."

Ben's father gleamed at the praise, preening like a peacock at the Lady's kind words. He welcomed the Cargylls into his hall with open arms, seating Alina right next to Ben to allow them to get to know each other.

Silently, they seated themselves next to each other. For propriety's sake, he pulled the chair out for her, pushing her in a little rougher than necessary when his father nodded in approval and turned his gaze.

Lady Cargyll made no complaint, only shifted in the seat and smoothing her skirts. Slightly irked but still determined, Ben began to eat without a word. Wolfishly scarfing his food down to get it over with so he could speak with her with no chaperones around to overhear his next words.

Gracefull as a swan, the young woman next to him took slow and savory bites of her meal. She placed her utensils down after each one, being only a quarter way finished when he had been done minutes ago. He sat back, glaring at the side of her unbothered face. Frustratedly, he could not tell if she was purposely stalling or plain slow. Though, the amused gleam in her eyes that shined for a mere second led him to believe it was the former.

Smiling brightly, Alina thanked Lord Blackwood for the delightful meal. In turn, Ben's father seemed to brighten even more and pat his son's shoulder. "It is Ben's favorite! I had hoped you would enjoy it, too."

She glanced to Benjicot now, eyes teeming with a sort of hidden agenda that he could not place as he met her gaze evenly. "Yes, indeed. You have good tastes, Ben."

He seethed at the name, though he could not openly protest it. Leaning in slightly he murmured, "I thought you might enjoy it. Seems you have a liking to all things edible." He tried, though she gave no indication of insecurity. Laughing, prettily and gracefully, Alina pretended like he had just told the funniest quip in her ear.

"I had heard you were funny from the young squires in King's Landing. But truly, none have done you justice." She spoke just loudly enough for both of their parents to overhear, shared proud smiles amongst the elders between discreet cheers of wine glasses. Then, when they had all looked away, she leaned over to his own ear, warm breath flushing over his neck. "But even your jokes cannot match the ego you are also said to have. Shall we take a walk?"

Ben leaned back in his seat in a huff, determined to have her in tears by the end of the evening. All women had their tells, even the most confident. Shaking his head, instead he stood and gentlemanly offered a hand. "I think a dance might be more well-suited for the evening."

She looked up through her lashes at him, pointedly taking his hand and allowing him to lead her to the open clearing in front of the tables. "Do you dance often, Ser Benjicot?"

"Not unless I have to."

"'Tis a shame then, I think any young Lady must be vying for a dance with a young knight like yourself."

Ben found himself flustered for a moment, the seemingly kind compliment coming from nowhere. It must be a segue to a backhanded one, he mused. He felt his cheeks warm despite himself, glancing away from her intense gaze as he looked to the head table, which was alight with conversation. None could hear them from over there.

"A shame it is." He replied. "How no knights must be asking the same of you. I only did so because my father would be pleased by the prospect of me providing charity for the unfortunate."

Alina giggled, bright smile aimed directly at him. Again, he held a huff back from escaping his lips. How infuriating she was, and it hadn't even been an hour since they met. Lady Lannister had at least had the decency to make herself scarce when Benjicot had made it known he found no interest in her. Lady Cargyll, unfortunately, did not seem to swayed.

"I see what you are trying to do, Ben." She commented, sounding lax as ever. "There's not a single force in the Realm that could possibly get me to break this engagement."

Ben felt his stomach squeeze with frustration. He would try everything in the Realm and beyond to do just the opposite. He swore not to marry years ago, when he squired in King's Landing himself and saw the hundreds of unhappy marriages noblemen and women put themselves through at hand of their parents. He would retire an old and content man, succeeded by his nephews or cousins.

"I have every intent of the opposite." He grit out. "You'll go crawling back to your father, begging him to find you another bethrothed to deal with you."

Alina's smile stayed ever-still, though he didn't miss the strained look cross her features. "It's you, an immature brat who thinks he can always get his way, or an old man from the North who probably can't even stand without two servants up his ass." She hissed quietly, continuing the trained steps of the dance as if they were second nature to her while Ben still skipped a few in his forgetfulness.

He stayed silent, knowing that most women got the same option. He would choose an old hag, if only for the knowledge that she'd be dead sooner than later, and he'd only have to deal with the marriage for a few years. But he didn't get offers from old maids because there were none. He was a young man, and his father would choose only the 'best' for his heir.

"So, yes, Ben; we will be married by the fortnight's end as expected." She ended concisely, floundering off when the song finished and back to her seat, leaving him to stand stupidly in the middle of the room.

If words could not sway her choice, then he would show her how miserable life would be living in Raventree Hall with him.

🐦‍⬛

The next day, Samwell Blackwood and Lord Owen Cargyll suggested that their son and daughter take a horseback ride to the riverbank. To show Lady Cargyll her future homelands, and to build a bond. Chaperones consisted of Alina's handmaiden, a mousy little thing that made nary a peep since her arrival, and Roy, the Maester-in-training for Raventree Hall. The old man mentoring him to eventually take his place was mere moons away from retirement and much too old to be riding out on the fields. Though Roy was young and inexperienced, he still clutched a stick up his ass just as tight as his mentor did.

Ben couldn't decide whether he loathed Roy or Alina's presence more during the first half of their ride out. But, when the man had taken to complaining about every 'impropriety' the bethrotheds supposedly did, he was definitely sure it was Roy who was worse.

His posture on horseback, his manner of speaking roughly, and even speaking to Alina too 'loudly' was all criticized by Roy. Ben had half the mind to simply ride off back home alone, leaving the three to walk back themselves. But, he had plans that needed to be done, and he only had two weeks to do them. If he got lucky, today would mark the final day of his bethrothal.

Roy and Dina rode behind a few yards. Too close for him to be able to use any sort of discretion. Any comment Roy made to the Cargyll women went right in one ear and out the other, it seemed. Alina rode on with a peaceful air to her, enjoying the pleasant day on the moor. She accepted all critiques with a polite apology and an immediate fix, though Ben couldn't tell if she was annoyed or genuinely unaware of the fact that she wasn't doing anything wrong.

Besides being near him in the first place, that is.

His anger was redirected from her for the moment. Roy, the everlasting smartass that he was, would be a nuisance in the plans he had specifically for Alina. In the back of his mind, he vowed that his first act as Lord Blackwood would be to find a new maester immediately.

"Maester." Ben halted his horse suddenly, earning a loud huff from the mare. Craning his neck back over his shoulder, he feigned his best 'tired' face and squinted in the sunlight. "I feel terribly ill."

The man behind sighed deeply. "We can turn back, Ser Benjicot."

"I don't think I'll make the ride—" He coughed in his hand for show, gagging a bit after. "I need to rest here."

Maester Roy rubbed his forehead, nodding reluctantly. "I shall fetch Maester Lorant immediately. Stay in the vicinity." He said, whipping his own horse around and riding back North for Raventree Hall.

Ben smirked slightly to himself, noting that the Maester hadn't even bothered to question the fact that he'd be alone with only one chaperone. A young lady, at that, though she was married and a proper chaperone. As soon as Roy was out of eyeline, he turned and continued on.

After a few steps, he noticed the women's horses still unmoved. Craining his head back exasperatedly, he asked, "what's the holdup?"

"Shouldn't we stay put, Ser Benji?" Alina asked in a higher-pitched voice than she had all day. Her horse met him parallel as she looked straight at him with concern. "Wouldn't want you fainting in this heat. You should rest, I can go ahead and fetch some water."

Benjicot rolled his eyes, nodding towards the riverbank ahead. "It's just over the hill. I will live til then, I'm quite confident."

"Poor thing, you must feel awful." She continued, placing a hand over his forehead like a concerned septa might.

He swatted it away quickly. "Come on." He said shortly, moving to a trot.

Alina's quiet laugh was heard clearly behind him, which he vehemently ignored. The silence was filled with Dina and Alina conversing as they leisurely made their way to the riverbank.

Dismounting, Ben and Alina stepped along the bank as Dina stayed near the horses, much more lax in terms of 'babysitting'. Ben was grateful for it, hating eyes on the back of his head from anyone.

"This is the border between us and the Brackens." He started dryly, nodding towards the distant hills of Bracken land. Leagues away, Stonehedge stood and hosted the greatest annoyance of the Blackwood's lives.

"So it is." She replied, kicking a rock around with the toe of her riding boot. Anyone who knew geography and history from their studies was aware of Bracken and Blackwood disputes over hundreds of years. He was glad she at least found enough interest in such things to remember small details like that. Many houses beyond the Riverlands deemed Bracken-Blackwood feuds to be trivial and a waste of resources.

"It is a new order—the border moved recently due to a treaty between us. The Tully's made sure of that." He said, amused at the memory of the young Bracken knight's face twisting when Lord Tully made sure of the border being declared by the river rather than stones that could easily be moved around. This was still disputed between the two houses and its men, however, who still listen to their forebares rather than their paramount Lord.

Benjicot followed his own desires, too. Believing that Blackwood land spanded far beyond the river and that the Brackens owed more than they gave. Samwell, however, forbid him from crossing the river.

"What did you bring me here for?" Alina asked with a raised brow, already tired of the unchanged scenery. Grass and trees as far as the eye could see. She had no different views back at home.

"To show you my land, of course." He shrugged, nulling his biting words back. There was no point in hostility, especially when the heat was indeed getting on his nerves already. When continuing on their walk downstream, Ben watched as Alina focused only on the little fish scurrying down in a fight for survival. While she was distracted, he swiftly brought a foot down in front of her own, immediately watching as she fell to the mud in turn. Half of her dress was wet on the bottom from both mud and water as she found her grounding in trying to catch herself.

Gasping, Alina turned an evil eye towards Ben, accusing him wordlessly.

He held his hands up, taking a step backward. "A rock must've been in your path. Don't blame me for you not paying attention." He snickered quietly, wiping a stray droplet of water that splashed on his face.

Sighing, Alina stood, boots stuck in the river as she lifted her skirt with one hand. Seeing her struggle, Benjicot could not withhold a chortle.

"Help me out. It's the least you could do." She said, squinting up at him from her place in the shallows.

Debating for a moment, he gave in and held out his hand. When she grabbed it with more force than expected, Ben nearly yelped as his footing betrayed him and he was pulled into the water with her. Both now lying in the flowing water, Alina on her back and Benjicot practically straddling her on top—Alina took her chance to snicker at the look on his face.

"Not so knightly now, hm? Bloody Ben—"

Scowling, he wrestled with her further into the river. Bad idea, he remembered all-too-late as they quickly were submerged into the depths. Yelps were lost to the air as water filled their lungs and they became swept away by the current. Ben took no time finding his pace in the water, righting himself and breaching his head above the stream. Looking around frantically, he could not find Alina above the water either.

Sucking in a deep breath, he dived under and searched for her. Ahead a few yards, Alina tugged her boots off and twisted this way and that against the rush. Ben, who weighed his morals against allowing a Lady to drown (no matter how much he disliked said lady), swam towards her. Grabbing her arm, he found her to be a lot heavier than she appeared. Together, they sprang out of water and gasped for breath.

With a knitted brow, Ben grit his teeth and held her shoulders when they sat upon the bank. "Can you seriously not swim?" The very idea of such a thing was preposterous. In the Riverlands, everyone could swim by the time they were 5 years of age or even less.

Alina matched his fury evenly. "Of course I can swim, you bloody oaf!" She aggressively brushed sand from her exposed skin, though she got nowhere with the wetness still clinging to her. "Do you know how heavy these dresses get? Obviously, we do not practice swimming in them."

Ben threw his head back, suddenly very tired. Whether from the heat or the sudden adrenaline dying down, he didn't care. Originally, he had just planned to leave her leagues from Raventree Hall and run off with the horses. See how long it might take her to find her way back to his home, and however long that was would be a great wake-up call for Lady Cargyll. Who would want a selfish husband like Benjicot?

His idea seemed grand yesterday, when he sat awake scheming it. There was truly little to do without physically harming her in order to scare her away from this marriage—not that he would allow himself to harm a Lady for any reason. Tripping aside, words were his greatest weapon against those he could not fight. Even then, Bloody Ben was not known for his sharp tongue, but rather for his battlefield prowess.

Leaning only on his elbows, Benjicot sat back to admire the stillness. Besides the rush of the river, the world was completely still. Beside him, Alina gave up her wringing and mimicked his position. In his peripheral, he saw her staring.

"I'm sorry."

He sat up from his deflated position. "What?"

She focused her hands on untangling her hair. Staring out ahead, at what would be the direction of Raventree Hall, she seemed to have the exact same melancholy look that he sometimes felt in the depths of the night after his father announced the marriage.

"I would fight it too, if I were you."

"What are you jabbering about?" He huffed, swiping mud from his face.

"You have it good. The heir to the ancient Blackwood House, knighthood, a carefree life with your friends."

This time, he stayed silent. He did have it good. And he was determined to keep it that way until he died.

"But I don't, Ser Benjicot." She looked at him, eyes glossy not from the scrapes on her legs and arms but from fear. "I can't live in the North—living my days out as a broodmare while my decaying husband finds pleasure in every cunt he comes across. Raise his children who will hate me like he does solely for my disposition. Tolerate the brutish nature of his councilmen and never live a day without the judgemental eyes of Northern ladies."

Such vulgarity for a young lady. He almost blushed if not for the seriousness of her tone.

"If I have to be unloved for the rest of my life, then so be it. At least you would have the decency to ignore me rather than subject me to that humiliation. I will be close to my family—and perhaps we could say that I am defective and they will give you another wife of your choice."

"I don't want that." he murmured quietly. Perhaps the most docile tone he had ever used with her—or anyone else. His knee touched her own as he scooched up to sit by her side, folding his hands over his bent legs. "Have you ever been to King's Landing?" He continued.

"Unfortunately." She sniffled unsubtlely.

"You've seen what I have, too, then. There's not a single happy marriage in the Realm. Those are are..." His mind flashed blurry images of his mother and father, who were never seen apart in their very few years of wedlock. "...are ripped apart. The Gods do not will it."

Alina mimicked his posture, a very unladylike way of sitting that slightly amused him. "I just want peace. We can be friends through this, can we not?"

The allure of the pools in her eyes nearly drowned Benjicot. Why had he conceded so easily to this girl's whims? Did he subject himself to the fate his father planned for him so easily? After over three years of evasion, Benjicot was simply tired. After Alina would come another. He wouldn't put it past his father to make Benji simply show up at a weirwood tree one evening and be greeting with the sight of a random woman and his and her family all sitting together to bare witness to their wedding.

If he had to choose between that and Alina, then he supposed there was worse options.

"Friends." He confirmed, nodding finally. If nothing else, a lifelong companion to soothe the loneliness in his heart.

With the mutual agreement heavy in the air, the two young betrotheds resigned themselves to be wed within the fortnight.

🐦‍⬛

Don't know how to feel about this one. I had ideas that just didn't translate to words :/ Sorry for taking so long (cough months cough) for this to be posted i loved the idea <3

obviously more of a leave it to you ending. will they, won't they? (they lived a long life and fell in love with some tragically long 150k story, miscommunication arc, pregnancy trope, blah blah blah)

lol thank you, @damneddamsy , for giving me the inspo to finish it 😭 forgot how much I love Ben and his character

[kitzuukts]

a round of MCD headcanons for my eventual rewrite project:

Laurance never regains his sight. His face is mauled with void burns from Ungrth tearing the boundary of the Nether and the Overworld. In fact, he can only see when in shadow knight form :)

Garroth x Laurance x Aphmau frfr

Werewolves actually don't exist. They are replaced with Lu'pines, the wolffolk, who cannot turn people and morph between a teue wolf and wolf-ish human (think mystreet werewolves, leona, etc).

I lied. There are werewolves. But they are not the lu'pine. They were led by the Ultima, a cursed man, but were all slaughtered by decree of the High Priest of O'khasis.

Only two survived. The red-eyed ultima and a lu'pine-werewolf who follows him whispering that their cause is just and that they are the perfect lifeform and the ultima should turn or slaughter everyone in their path. The ultima is not pleased.

Witches and warlocks are not a weird seperate species of people. It's a profession, some have immense talent, but it's not a birthright.

Aphmau, Garroth, Lucinda, Laurance, Travis, and Aaron are reincarnations of Irene, Esmund, Menphia, Kul'zak, Enki, and Shad. Aphmau is NOT Irene.

The Irene Dimension is actually limbo. That constant chiming is actually to keep those inside from losing themselves in the nothingness.

Aphamu's total love interests are Garroth, Laurance, Zoey, and Aaron. No one else.

Garroth and Laurance treat Dante like a son. He's only a couple years younger than the two and HATES this.

The process of becoming a shadow knight is essentially being maimed, killed, and injected with shadow knight blood. Once ressurected, the knight is essentially undead, bloodlusted, drawn to the Nether and Void, and briefly physically weak. During that period of weakness, initiates are often abused and beaten in any way the others see fit to "break them in."

Zenix and Vylad were taken prisoner by the shadow knights to transform. They were frnding off the knights to save a small village and let them escape. Vylad sacrificed himself as a chance for Zenix to get away, and he ended up tripping and getting captured anyway.

It tooks years for Katelyn to get over Jeffery's death. She went into the Irene dimension to protect Abby and was horrified to learn that Abby had to geow up without her. It haunts her to this day.

Hyria knew the moment Lucinda was born that she was Menphia's reincarnation. She taught Lucinda magic against her father's wishes because of this.

Laurance is a meif'wa. It's funny.

Laurance can speak wyvern. After Ungrth's passing, he speaks with Raven for a long time about the event. Raven joins the trio's cuddle pile that night.

Zoey loved Aphmau. Aphmau might have loved Zoey, too. But after she was trapped in the Irene dimension for so long, Zoey realized that her love had not only weakened her but was futile, she had maybe three years left to live. She gave up, dying of a broken heart a mere year after Aphmau returned.

One day is eight in the Nether. One day in the Irene dimension is one year in the Overworld.

Levin and Malachi are about ten at the beginning of season one, and around 14-15 at the end of it. The gang is trapped for 7 years this time.

The gang trapped is Aphmau, Garroth, Laurance, Zane, Katelyn, Travis, Lucinda

Zane might have actually loved Kiki if he stayed long enough. They had sex, it wasn't a weird pendant that made Kiki pregnant :/

Alina is Aphmau and Garroth's daughter. Lillith Garnet is hers and Laurance's. It shatters Shad Aaron that Irene Aphmau chose them over him. He succumbs to the latent destruction of his nature.

The Divine Warrior's poweful magical prowess has also cursed each of them. Shad became a werewolf, the Ultima. Irene would always lose her emotions, in each lifetime she lived. Esmund would be last to die, alone and hated, unable to keep his family safe. Enki would lose his sanity to the demon Micheal he had sealed away in his mind. Menphia would suffer the same curse as Shad for defending him, as the first vampire. Kul'zak would be blinded to the knowledge he thirsted for, each and every time.

In modern MyStreet, "werewolf" is synonymous with lu'pine. The Ultima is a myth. Something of note is that there are also rumors that a Maxima meif'wa would exist, with eyes of silver-blue.

Sasha claims shadow knights don't feel, but she lies. She still loves Kenmur. She still looks up to Candenza. She still sees Laurance as a goofy older brother. She pretends she doesn't.

Gene did do all those horrible things. He probably kissed Laurance at some point too.

Much more species diversity, lore and overall explaining. Currently, we've seen humans, lu'pines, meif'wa, wyverns, vampires, ghosts, and elves in the series proper.

Her name is Nana Ashida.

[10diamondz]

10DIAMONDZZZZZZ

"All I can think is Genshin Men"

GENSHIN IMPACT

PENDING WORK/S (?)

Itto x Fem!Reader (Angst to Fluff)

:> You've been kidnapped, the one and only Itto was determined to get back his wife. So, he told his gang to babysit the twins while he was away.

:> FAMILY COMES FIRST (CAPITANO/FEM!READER) /FLUFF/

Summary: Capitano brings his daughter to a Harbinger meeting because you are currently sick. The Harbingers are surprised, and Alina(daughter) was in awe about the 11th harbinger’s eyes, calling them "water eyes." Her innocence softens everyone in the room, even making Childe smile.

:> A NIGHT TO REMEMBER (CAPITANO/FEM!READER) /FLUFF/

Summary: Capitano and his wife (Fem!Reader) decide to go on a long-overdue date, leaving their young daughter Alina in the care of Arlecchino, despite Alina's initial hesitation about the "scary lady." To ease the evening, Arlecchino introduces Alina to Lyney, Lynette, and Freminet, who quickly win her over with magic tricks and playful charm. 

:> FATHERLY COMPETITION (CHILDE/FEM!READER) (UNCLE!CAPITANO) /FLUFF/

Summary: Childe getting jealous when his own childe wants more attention from his Uncle (Capitano).

:> INTERRUPTED THINGS (CHILDE/FEM!READER) /FLUFF/

Summary: You and childe finally got an alone time after Childe came home home from an exhausting work. Just when you two get all intimate, your little one wants to show his work!

:> SILENT TREATMENT (ARATAKI ITTO/FEM!READER) /FLUFF/

Summary: You gave him the silent treatment after he ditched a planned date for beetle fighting

:> BUT FATHER! (DAD!Capitano x Mom!Reader) /FLUFF/

Summary: Alina, has a crush on Chongyun, but.. Capitano seems to be hesitant about it...

:> SPOILED ROTTEN (DAD!Pantalone x Mom!Reader) /FLUFF/

Summary: Pantalone spoils their daughter Rosaline with extravagant gifts, like a diamond tiara, which annoys his wife. She scolds him for overdoing it, and he agrees to scale back (a little).

... Void

[maimingaffairs]

Hiiii hope ur well

would u mind doing a darkling x moon summoner fix like she’s disguised as the queens gorgeous lady in waiting but she’s really the kings personal gaurd/assassin.

and aleksander finds out about her when she saves alina from the attack on the way to the little palace.

and of course u have free rein whether u want to continue this or have a jealous trope with Alina and I won’t shy away from smut lol (I’d love a scene where the moon summoner catches the contucdor at the winter fete and helps control his mind to get answers)

thank youuuu

SWEET ANON! i want to preface this with an apology, because it took me so long to write... and it is... a very long piece of writing. i hope it meets the mark though. it might be one of my personal faves that i've written. i love u <33

AS ALWAYS, PLEASE SEND IN REQUESTS <333333

warnings: canon typical violence, some angst

word count: 10.5k

The Dark Side of The Moon (aleksander morozova x fem! moon summoner! reader)

READ PART TWO HERE

He needed you.

No, he didn’t need you, he reasoned with himself. He just… really wanted you. 

His hands were still in position, but The Cut he intended to use was long forgotten and faded. You stood behind him and he gaped at you from over his shoulder. You looked as lovely as ever, but even more so now that power was thrumming just underneath your skin, so freshly used. 

The Fjerdan that had been a part of the ambush on the road back to Os Alta, lay over Alina with a smoking, gaping hole blown through his chest. 

The girl pushed the body off of her in a panicked manner, and you dashed past the Black General and grabbed onto both of her hands to pull her to her feet gently. 

“Breathe, breathe, Sankta Alina. You are safe.” You assured her and she stared up at you with wide eyes. 

“Who are you?” She asked, almost belligerently. 

You opened your mouth to answer her question and General Kirigan let out a low hum from behind the two of you. 

“Yes, Lady y/n. Who are you, indeed?” He asked, walking towards you as if you were simply his prey. 

He couldn’t help the glee that settled in his stomach when he looked at you and Alina. His Sun Summoner had finally been found. He could have gotten by with just her. And then there you were. 

His Moon Summoner of legend. No one knew for certain if there was to be a Moon Summoner one day or if it was just tales of a desperate man, but The Black Heretic knew for certain that now he was indefinitely unstoppable. 

“Are you insane, General Kirigan?” You asked angrily and he came back to the present moment to see that you’d wrapped your arms around Alina’s shoulders and pulled her against your chest while she let out sighs of distress.

You weren’t taller than the girl, if anything you were a few inches shorter, and this was an amusing sight for him to watch. You snapped a few times in his direction and you shook your head. 

“You could’ve gotten her killed! Why didn’t you ride off alone with her?” You demanded and then you let go of the girl and rubbed your forehead, “Saints, Kirigan. She’s the Sun Summoner.”

You and him had always gotten along nicely, truth be told. You posed as the Queen’s Lady in Waiting, and whenever there were large events that the General would attend, you two often had friendly conversations. But you weren’t really just the Queen’s Lady in Waiting. And The General knew this. You served as the King’s personal assassin. 

You’d never had to do much more than keep an eye on the man, thankfully, because in instances like that, you’d have to use your power. The power you tried to keep hidden. 

When The King had heard word of the Sun Summoner being brought to the Capital, he’d sent you off to make sure that she and the General and his Grisha made it home safely. 

He was right for that evidently. 

The General didn’t seem to like your outburst and he approached the two of you and he reached up to twist a bit of your hair around his finger curiously. Silver strands glowed in the aftermath of your vicious outburst of power and he dropped the piece of your hair.  

“Were you ever going to tell anyone that you are the Moon Summoner?” He asked slowly and you felt Alina’s eyes on your face. 

You glanced up at the girl in front of you and then over your shoulder at Kirigan and you shook your head. 

“No. Because I didn’t want to just be a saint. I’m much more than that, as you can see.” You said quietly and he hummed. 

“Indeed you are, Lady y/n.” He said lowly and then he nodded to Alina, “She rides with me. Did you ride here on a horse?” He asked. 

You gave him a nod and pointed at a white horse in the distance, speckled with grey. 

“Excuse me? Can someone please explain what’s going on here?” Alina asked desperately and the two of you turned to her. 

He beat you to answer her and he held his hand out for Alina, waiting for her to tentatively grab onto it. 

“I have found my two lovely Saints now.  All is right in the world.” He said with a grin and you felt a sense of unease in your stomach upon seeing his toothy grin. 

-

The ride back to Os Alta was mostly silent. You had gone off ahead of the two on your horse, determined to get to the Capital as quickly as you could so that you could hurry yourself up to the Queen and spend the rest of the day in hiding. You knew what would happen if you ever revealed yourself. You’d be thrown to the wolves. Everyone would know your name, everyone would want to use you. From a young age, you’d learned to keep your powers a secret, and to only practice them alone. 

As soon as your horse rode up onto the gravel path in front of the Little Palace, you jumped from your still moving horse and you gathered your cloak up and quickly ran towards the Grand Palace. You stumbled inside and slammed the doors behind you, despite guards trying to filter out to get outside to meet the General and the Sun Summoner. You pushed your way through a few guards until you got to the grand staircase and bustled up the marble stairs. 

Once in the hallway, you smoothed down your riding clothes and walked quietly towards the King’s study. You tapped the door before you opened it and you stood in the doorway, peering in at the King and Prince Vasily who sat inside. You bowed your head respectfully and cleared your throat.

“Your Grace, I’ve delivered them safely. There were Fjerdans, just as you predicted, my Prince.” You reported and the two men nodded their heads. 

“Thank you, My Lady. Please. Clean yourself up and return yourself to my mother’s side at once.” Vasily ordered and you didn’t protest. 

Within the hour you’d gotten yourself thoroughly cleaned up and dressed with the help of a few servants, and you faithfully returned to your Queen’s side. 

You didn’t mind the Queen. Not at all, really. She was a bit of an airhead and as vain as can be, but you much preferred her company to her husband’s or even Vasily. You didn’t even mind Nikolai, though you hadn’t seen the boy in many, many years. 

You sat in silence next to the Queen for most of the afternoon as she had tea and read through her books, and you felt relieved to be away from the Grisha. Away from Alina Starkov. Away from General Kirigan. 

Just as the thought of all three had slipped your mind, The General begged for your attention once more and you and the Queen both turned your head to the doorway of the Library to see Kirigan standing there. He bowed his head respectfully to the queen and he bent his knee ever so slightly. 

“My Queen. May I steal your lovely Lady away for just a moment or two?” He asked, and the Queen raised an eyebrow.  

“Why? What business do you have with her?” She asked and you wanted to swear under your breath. He was going to tell her, surely. 

The reveal didn’t come, and instead, he gave a simple excuse. 

“I think Miss Starkov needs someone kind and.. well… perhaps non Grisha to speak to. This new life must be hard for her and it’s even harder when there’s only reminders trying to soothe you.” He explained calmly, but you could see the way his fingers fidgeted behind his back from how his forearms flexed underneath his kefta. 

“I suppose. Have her back by the time we finish dinner please.” She requested and the General nodded once and held his hand out for you. 

“After you, Lady y/n.” He said primly. 

You looked down at the Queen miserably and stood up. You held the skirts of your dress up off of the ground as you strode towards Kirigan, and you politely took his arm. 

He led you away from the library, and as soon as you were out of earshot of the Queen, he cleared his throat. 

“So. I believe a discussion is in order about your… abilities.” He said slowly and you shook your head. 

“No. I don’t want to talk about them. I want you to forget about them. Please. They’re mine and mine alone.” You said softly. 

Kirigan placed a hand at the small of your back and he very gently nudged you towards the doors that would take you outside to the Little Palace. 

“You are a gift to this world, y/n. Why hide it? You, Alina, and I could accomplish so much. We could tear down the fold, we could further expand it, we could bring the sun and the moon down to touch the earth. Yet you deny Ravka of these wonders. Why?” He asked and stepped outside with you. He carefully guided you down a small set of stairs and you shrugged. 

“I don’t know,” you said cautiously. Or perhaps it was fearfully. You weren’t sure. 

“Well, you’d be doing a great service to this great country by embracing who you are meant to be… what was it you called Alina? Ah yes. Sankta y/n.” He finished and you shuddered at the sound of it. 

There was power dripping from the title he gave you and you would be lying if you said it didn’t appeal to you somewhat. But you quickly shook the thought away from your head and instead decided to become fascinated with a fraying bit of lace on the bodice of your dress. 

“I don’t know, General.” You finally replied as the two of you walked into the Little Palace. 

“You’re destined for great things, my Moonbeam.” He said softly and then took one of your hands in his, stopping you in the middle of an empty hallway, “You don’t have to agree, but I would encourage you to accept your Grisha side and come here to train with Alina. We three are destined for something ethereal.” He said gently and reached up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear.  

Little butterflies erupted in your stomach and your mouth was suddenly dry. 

“I’ll think about it.” You whispered, and he brushed a thumb over your cheek as he pulled his hand away from your hair 

“Good girl. I know you’ll make the right decision.

-

Whether it was the right decision or not, you did in fact choose to join Kirigan. When you told him, he was elated. In his own way. His dark eyes gleamed proudly and he had taken you by the hand and promised you greatness, and truthfully, you believed he’d deliver. 

But training was simply kicking your ass.

You knew how to handle your powers, that wasn’t hard. But to advance them and use them in ways you’d never even imagined? That was hard. 

Typically, you’d spend most of your time around Kirigan as he insisted that he was best to train you, but sometimes you were stuck going down to the training yard or to Baghra. 

Baghra was a woman full of disdain and had a certain distaste for you, it seemed. Sometimes it was as if she was trying to scare you away from your training entirely. 

Like right now, for instance. 

You sat with your legs crossed in a shabby little wooden chair while the old woman paced the room in silence. You wanted to ask her what she was pacing for, but you didn’t want to face her wrath. So you instead watched her go back and forth, like a slow, unsteady pendulum. 

Finally her eyes met yours and she stopped moving, her thin lips becoming even thinner as she pursed them together. 

“I’m no longer sure what to do with you, admittedly.” She said, her words slow and well thought upon. 

You arched an eyebrow curiously and she only shrugged and sat across from you, folding her bony hands properly across her lap. 

“You know what you’re doing. That’s more than Alina can say. But you aren’t great. You won’t hardly be successful or powerful. Do you know why?” 

You didn’t verbally ask her to tell you why. You only leaned forward a bit and held your hands out questioningly. 

She tutted at you and then she leaned back a bit in her chair.

“You’re doing this for all the wrong reasons, so when you’re faced with the reality of the situation, you are no longer motivated to use your power accordingly. I think that would have a lot to do with The General, wouldn’t you think so?” She asked, almost accusingly. 

“The finger pointing is a bit juvenile, isn’t it, Baghra?” You asked in a flat tone, “If you have an accusation to make, best be direct.”

It was her turn to cock an eyebrow now and she let out a little scoff. 

“Alright then, little girl, let me be frank. You are doing this because of your attraction to the General. Not because you want to tear down The Fold. Alina may not be good with her power yet, but make no mistake; she wants only to liberate this country. What do you want? A moment of approval from a man? A pat on the head like a kitten?” 

You slowly rose from the chair and you towered over the woman, shaking your head, your jaw setting tersely. 

“Preposterous. You cannot possibly fathom why I am doing this.”

“Correct, girl. I cannot fathom what motivates you. I never claimed to. All I claimed to know is what you’re doing it for. Tell me this: do you believe that this will bring you the affection you crave?” 

You stared her down incredulously before you shook your head.

“This is absurd. I am leaving.” You snapped and turned sharply. 

You stormed towards the door, your fingertips vibrating just slightly, and when you looked down, silvery light made your skin light up ever so slightly. You grit your teeth and pushed open her door and walked out, making sure to slam it behind you. 

You didn’t crave his affection. You didn’t want a pat on the head.

You walked off up to the courtyard, lost in angry thought. 

Come to think of it though, The Fold had hardly crossed your mind during the weeks of training you’d been subjected to. Kirigan never spoke of it when you two were together. Most of the time you’d spent with him was just… casual conversation between two friends. Sometimes he’d give you his hand and allow you to mess around with your power with the aid of his amplification. 

But otherwise, it wasn’t much else more. 

You slowed your steps until you were stopped entirely near the doors to the Little Palace and you blinked a few times. 

There was no way that Baghra was right. But she wasn’t really wrong, either. 

Why were you doing this? 

That was the question that kept you up that night. 

-

You laid in your bed across the hall from the Queen’s room and you tossed and turned for the whole two hours you were laying down. 

Your mind raced relentlessly, replaying what Baghra had earlier said, her words echoing like church bells in your head. 

You groaned frustratedly and you pushed yourself up out of bed and reached out in the dim light of the moon to grab onto your robe that hung from one of the posts on your bed. You tossed it around your shoulders and slid your arms into the thin sleeves and tied it up tightly. You moved your hair over one shoulder and slid on a pair of flat, slipper-like shoes, and you rushed out of your bedroom. 

You’d go wake Alina. That’s what you’d do. Talk to her about this entire thing, hear what she would have to say about it. You sighed quietly and walked down through the winding halls of the Grand Palace until you reached the double doors that led out to the Little Palace. You padded out over the grounds and you glanced around cautiously, chewing on your bottom lip. 

When you finally got inside of the Little Palace, you walked determinedly down the hallway towards Alina’s room before you stopped at a crossroads. There was hardly any light in the halls at this time of the night, yet down the hallway that held Kirigan’s room, there was a sliver of light under his door. You glanced back at the hallway that would take you to Alina and you thought for a moment before you turned and walked hurriedly through a hallway. 

You didn’t even think or have half the mind to knock before you pushed open the doors to General Kirigan’s room. 

If the much taller man was surprised to see you intruding in his room, he didn’t make any indication of such a feeling. Instead, he just eyed you from his position, bent over his war table. You took a step inside his room and closed the doors behind you, letting out a long sigh. 

“Do you do this often to The Royal Family? Or are unannounced intrusions reserved for me?” He asked and then looked back down at his table. 

When you didn’t answer, he flickered his dark eyes back up to you and looked you up and down a few times, and suddenly you felt very naked underneath his gaze, despite being clothed.  

“I just… I…” you trailed off and suddenly felt very foolish to barge into his personal chambers without so much as a knock and you looked down at the ground. 

“You just what?” He demanded, but his tone wasn’t harsh. Only curious. 

“I couldn’t sleep. I don’t know. I intended on rousing Alina but I don’t know what happened. I just… found myself here.” You answered, your cheeks heating up in embarrassment. 

He continued to stare at you for a while and then he shook his head once, reaching out to beckon you forward.

“Well. Are you going to stand by the doors for the remainder of the night? Come join me over here.” He suggested and you slowly made your way across the floor to him. 

You felt a pang of nervousness in your chest. A new feeling around him. Usually you felt much more at ease around The Darkling, but now you just felt so small. 

You finally rounded the table to stand at his side, and you met his eyes which had followed you from the door to his side. 

“Would you like me to make you some tea?” He asked and reached out to twist a piece of your hair around his finger, a habit that he had made within the last few weeks. 

“No, I don’t think that would help much. But thank you.”

He looked down at you and he let out a sigh, “I am not sure why you came to me, then. I cannot lull you to sleep, my sweet moonbeam.” 

His words sent you fumbling for your own and you blinked a few times. You only shrugged in lieu of speaking and looked down at his war table. 

You watched him lift his arm out of your periphery and nearly jumped when you felt his hand gently touch the side of your face. He carefully turned your face towards his and he cradled your face against his palm. His touch was gentle, and you wondered if he’d ever been this delicate with anything in his life before. 

“Would you like that? Is that why you came to me? Did you want me to lull you to sleep? Soothe all your worries away?” He asked slowly. 

Though his words could easily have been mocking, his tone was light and kind and full of something you placed between want and concern. 

“I don’t know.” You whispered and nuzzled your cheek into the palm of his hand. 

He clicked his tongue against the top of his mouth, “That isn’t really an answer.” He commented. 

You knew it wasn’t. And you knew he was far too sharp to think otherwise. You couldn’t fool him, and you knew that. He could read you like an open book, he always could, even when you two were simple acquaintances. But you couldn’t really call yourselves acquaintances now. Could you even say friends? 

He trained you often, and much of your time was spent with the General, much more than with the Queen these days. He knew so much about you. Some from being told by you, some from guessing and confirmation from you, but mostly what he knew about you went unspoken. He knew you were lonely, he didn’t need to ask you that. He’d deduced it quickly after your time spent with him. 

You only kept your eyes on his nose and his thumb idly brushed back and forth against the side of your cheekbone, the contact making your skin tingle underneath his touch. 

You finally closed your eyes and focused on the faint sweeping noises the pad of his thumb made across your skin and a little sigh escaped your lips pleasantly. 

“What keeps you awake?” He asked very quietly, and you let out an equally quiet hum. 

“Many things. Perhaps I just don’t belong here. I lack purpose. I’m better off how I was before.”

His fingers curled around the back of your head and he pulled you a little bit closer to him. 

“You lack no such thing.” He protested. 

“Then what is my purpose? To help you tear down The Fold with Alina? To become a living Saint? I don’t want that. I don’t want to become a bedtime story. I was meant for more. I was meant for the things they leave out of bedtime stories.” You whispered and you could’ve sworn you heard his breath hitch. 

“Your purpose does not align with the Sun Summoner’s. Indeed you are correct. You were meant for more. She walks in the light. She walks with the light. You wait in the dark, you strike from the darkness where no one watches. You and I are more alike than you could ever imagine.” He said just above a whisper, but the quietness of his voice did nothing to conceal the intensity of which he spoke with. 

“I don’t know what I am.” You breathed and opened your eyes only to find his just inches away from yours. 

“You are the silver flicker of light in the dark and then you are the darkness.” He answered earnestly. 

You closed your eyes again, and as soon as you did, you were swept forward into his arms. He pulled your head against the center of his chest and wrapped his other arm around your middle. There was something oddly protective about his embrace and he ran his fingers through the hair at the back of your head. 

“Let me lull you to sleep, little one. You need a reprieve from your mind.” He insisted. 

You gave him a permissive nod against his chest and he very slowly walked you away from the table and he sunk down into an armchair. He pulled you down onto his lap and he lifted your legs up over the side of the chair. You curled your head against his chest much like a cat and you wrapped your arms loosely around his neck, your legs dangling over the side of the chair. 

You took in his scent as you buried your face against his clothes and were comforted to find that he smelled of leather and something of embers, and then something sweet yet faint that you couldn’t place. 

You opened your eyes when he grabbed one of your arms away from his neck and laid it against your chest before he reached up with the same hand and traced his fingertips against your skin, and a warm feeling washed over you. Everywhere his fingers touched, a silvery blue trail of light followed underneath your skin. 

“Sleep, little one.” He cooed and you closed your eyes again, obeying him. 

The last thing you remembered before sleep overcame you was his voice above your head, muttering what you recognized as sweet nothings in his native Ravkan tongue. 

He had indeed lulled you right to sleep. 

-

In the days after you had fallen asleep on him, The General had been very insistent that you were with him for the majority of your day. He claimed your skill set was of use to him, and truthfully, he was right. Even before you were his Moon Summoner, you were the King’s assassin, and you didn’t need your power for the things you’d accomplished there. 

Around his entourage and Corporalki, you were treated as if you were his most esteemed soldier. But behind closed doors and away from prying eyes, his intense and hard demeanor was gone and he was softer with you, kinder. He always had been kind to you, but this was different. It was a different type of kindness. 

The morning after you had fallen asleep on him, you awoke in his bed, the black sheets tucked around you with care. He hadn’t been in the bed next to you, but you hadn’t expected that of him. He was an early riser. 

You wondered if he had slept next to you at any point during the night. You couldn’t remember. In fact, you didn’t even remember him moving you to his bed. You wanted to ask him if he had, but it seemed listless. Even if he had, it hadn’t mattered. Or did it? Sharing a bed was typically something you only did with someone you trusted, and Kirigan didn’t seem like someone who’d just open his bed up to anyone. 

It was the best sleep you’d had in quite a long time, that was for certain. 

It was just past noon when you finally emerged from The Grand Palace and made your way to The Little Palace. You had pulled your hair up into an intricate braid and you fiddled with the ends of it as you walked. Once inside, you spotted Alina walking down the hall and you hurried up to her and gently grabbed her arm and gave her a little smile. 

She didn’t return the smile, instead she looked anxious and unhappy. You pulled her off to the side and stopped walking, eyeing her with concern. 

“Has something happened?” You asked and she sighed, a long sigh that had sounded like it had been pent up for a long time. 

“I’ve been informed I’m to showcase my… powers in front of everyone during The Winter Fete.” She said anxiously. 

You raised an eyebrow and then shook your head a few times, “Who told you this?” You asked, feeling a bit of frustration. If Alina was to showcase her talents, then surely you’d be asked to as well, and that was specifically not something you wanted to do. 

“Kirigan. David, too. Genya. All of them. I don’t want to be presented like a show pony.” She stated and then you sympathetically patted her arm. 

“I understand. No one does.” You agreed and she let out a short laugh and pulled her arm away from your gentle grasp. 

“Well. Why don’t you work your magic and tell Aleksander to call it off.” She suggested. 

You blinked in confusion and then you tipped your head to the side. 

“Aleksander? I’m afraid I don’t know an Aleksander.” You replied, eyes searching her face. 

“Kirigan. It’s his name. Aleksander. Did he not tell you?” She asked you as if it was one of the most common things to have known. 

“No?” 

Ouch.

In all the time you’d spent with The General getting closer to him, he’d never once told you his first name. He didn’t talk much about himself, and when he did it was vague, ambiguous. Everything about himself was left up to interpretation. 

He liked it that way, you noticed. It left more room for mystery. It kept anyone from crossing the brooding man, because simply no one knew definitely just who he was or just how ruthless or constrained he could be. 

“Oh. Well then perhaps don’t mention you heard it from me. I’ve got to get down to Baghra. Please just… do what you are able to about this situation. I am not ready to be a spectacle in front of Ravka.” She pleaded and then walked off. 

You stood against the wall for a moment, listening to her footsteps echo until they were gone entirely. An eclectic range of frustrations began to make your fingertips tingle and you pushed away from the wall. You walked with intent to The General’s room, your brow knitting together in annoyance. 

His door was the only thing that made you come to a stop and before you could decide against it, you pushed it open and stepped inside of his room. 

He didn’t have to look up to know who it was. You were the only one that dared come unannounced, after all. 

He sat at his desk on the far end of the room with a thin parchment letter in his hand and he didn’t tear his dark gaze off of the paper as he held his hand out in your direction. He outstretched his pointer and middle fingers and curled them in the air at you in a ‘come here’ motion and you did. 

You stomped petulantly towards his desk and you laid your hand down firmly on the desktop with a quiet thump. 

Now, you had his full attention. He lifted his inky eyes towards you slowly and he took in your appearance before he slowly laid the letter down. 

“You are upset.” He observed and you simply scoffed and folded your arms across your chest.

“What gave it away?” 

“Perhaps the stomping like a child. Or maybe it’s the fact that you can’t hide your emotions on your face. Do you intend on telling me why you’re cross? Or did you have another reason for this visit?” He asked and leaned backwards in his chair casually. 

“I don’t know, Aleksander. Maybe I just wanted to come in here and pout.” You snapped. 

Now it was his turn to fold his arms across his chest and he looked up at you with amusement, the same kind of amusement a parent would watch a fractious child with. 

“Ah, you’ve been speaking with Miss Starkov, it seems.” 

You stared at him in disbelief. That was it? That was all he had to say? You nearly stomped your foot down on the hard floor but refrained, not wanting his amusement to grow. 

“Why wouldn’t you have told me your name as well?” You asked, and you hadn’t realized how stupid you sounded until just now, but you had no intention of backing down at this point. 

“Would that have pleased you, lapushka?” He asked with a little grin and you snorted, turning your head away from him. 

“I don’t care. It’s your name. You do what you want with it. I just figured perhaps we were closer than that.”

“Why do you figure that? Because you fell asleep in my arms like a little kitten? Or because you woke in my bed?”

You felt your heart drop to your stomach and you turned towards him, a frown covering your lips. You didn’t answer him, you simply stared disdainfully into his caliginous eyes. His words had hit you like a slap across the face, so real that you almost wanted to hold your cheek. 

“Don’t look at me like that. I didn’t say you were unjust in feeling that way. I just asked if that was your reasoning to figure we were close.” He replied once he realized you weren’t going to speak. He clicked his tongue and rose up from his chair and stalked towards you, reaching out with a hand to grab your chin. 

“My ambiguity is one of my greatest layers of armor.” He started. 

But you cut him off. 

“Right. But you’ll tell the first pretty girl that catches your eye your name and give up that ambiguity. Very selective of you.” 

He unfurled his finger from his grip on your chin and he tapped your lips to silence you. 

“Sometimes, to soften someone to your liking, you must strip away a piece of your armor. Miss Starkov is apprehensive at best regarding her situation. You require no such softening.” He explained and you took notice of the fact that he hadn’t bothered to move his finger away from your lips. 

“You trust me, and for that I am lucky and I am grateful. I needn’t reveal bits of myself to you just to make you trust in me. You simply just do. Little Moon Saint, I don’t need to take off my armors around you. You take them off for me whenever we are alone, whether you realize it or not.”

You shook your head just slightly and gazed up at him, warmth gathering under his touch on your face. 

“I know hardly anything about you.” You whispered, “How can I be removing your armor when I know nothing about you still?”

He shushed you and he leaned closer to your face, to where you could feel the air coming softly from his nose and you closed your eyes for a brief second before opening them again. 

“Most things about me go unspoken. I like it that way. You don’t need to know my history to know me. You don’t need me to beg you to trust me. You don’t question the deaths caused by my hands, and you know very well I don’t question the lives taken by yours. I told you. We are more alike than you could ever imagine.” He explained, his voice lowering, almost in reverence now, “Everything inside of me wants for you.” 

This, you weren’t expecting. 

And if that was a surprise to hear, it was even more of a surprise to feel his lips crash down against your own. 

-

The day of The Winter Fete came quickly. Thankfully, Aleksander had shared your sentiments in not wanting to have you display your power for the party. In fact, he was quite adamant on you being a secret kept from the rest of the world away from the palaces. You were thankful for that. 

You’d practically been inseparable from him in the weeks since he’d kissed you. He’d kissed you a handful of times in the time since then, too. Somewhere in the realm of the things that went unspoken but were simply known between the two of you, it had become evident that there were strong feelings between both of you. 

You hardly shied away from those feelings. If anything you were diving headfirst into them, which it seemed he was doing the same, because he’d insisted a handful of times in the last few weeks that you stay and sleep with him in his room. 

You liked to think that you cured his loneliness in the same way he had cured yours but you hadn’t had any confirmation on your daydream. 

So, there you sat, perched upon his desk while he nimbly unboxed a long, black gown for you. He held it up for you to see and you hummed approvingly. It was black with threads of dark blue and silver embroidered onto it in swirls and star like patterns. You smiled up at him and raised an eyebrow at him. 

“What? No kefta for me? Do you think me to be delicate?” You teased and Aleksander let out a slow laugh before he laid the dress down on his bed and walked to you. He gently pulled you off of the desk and turned you around. He undid the buttons on the back of the current dress you wore and he tapped the back of your neck. 

“You are anything but delicate. Trust me. As much as I’d like to see you in a kefta, this isn’t the time for you to be revealed. You must keep up appearances, Lady y/n.” He explained and moved back only a step once your dress was undone. 

You blushed a bit and held the loose dress up to your chest, hesitating to take off your dress in front of him. 

Aleksander sensed this and he placed his hands gently on your elbows, “Would you like me to give you the room so that you can change in privacy?” He asked kindly, brushing his thumbs against your elbows. 

You shook your head. It’s not like you really minded, but you still had a set of nerves at the thought of undressing in front of the man you adored. 

You let out a very quiet, shaky breath and you let the dress fall away from your shoulders and you slowly stepped out of it, leaving you in only your underwear before him. You didn’t dare turn around, for if you did, Aleksander would’ve seen the horrific blush that covered your cheeks now. 

His hands found yours as they lay at your sides and he gently interlocked your fingers before he leaned forward and pressed a gossamer light kiss against the nape of your neck. You shivered under his lips and you could feel them curl into a smug smile against your skin. 

“I didn’t take you for the shy type, little one.” He murmured and very slowly lifted his lips away from your neck. 

You didn’t respond to him, you simply gave his hands a light squeeze, but much to your dismay, he pulled away and you heard him walk away from you. There was a swish of fabric behind you and then he was back, gently placing a hand on your waist to move you towards him a bit. He didn’t turn you around, and you were thankful for that.

Instead, he reached around you and held your dress in front of you for you to step into it. You were used to being dressed, it was common practice for you and had been for years because of your place at court. But this felt different, and though he was dressing you, you couldn’t help but feel as if Aleksander was at the core of it all, stripping you completely naked. There was a different kind of vulnerability to letting him dress you. 

You stepped into the dress and he slowly pulled it up over your hips and you slipped your arms into the sleeves and he lifted the bodice of the dress up over your shoulders completely and pulled it taut before he began to button up the long row of buttons at your back. After the last button was done up, he tied the ribbon at your waist tightly and then he encircled you in his arms from behind, tugging you backwards until you were pulled flush against his chest. 

“I wish desperately that I could parade you on my arm all night. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a color look so lovely on anyone.” He whispered, resting his chin down against your shoulder. 

You leaned the side of your head against his and you placed your hands down on top of his wrists. 

“And I wish that you could kiss me breathless in a room, far away from the party, but alas, it seems we have duties to attend to.”

“Such a shame, isn’t it?” He asked playfully and with a hint of reluctance, pulled away from you. 

You finally willed yourself to turn around and face him. 

A look of reverence crossed his face and he reached out to cup the side of your face in one hand. The look in his lightless eyes was unreadable, but you got the sense his stare was altogether pleasant. 

“Tell me something.” He murmured and reached out to brush the pad of his thumb across your bottom lip. 

“Hmm?”

“Do you trust me?” He asked, though you felt like he was asking something entirely different. The look in his eye told you that he didn’t want to know if you found him to be trustworthy. His words unspoken were louder than the ones he’d verbalized. 

No, he meant to ask ‘do you trust me with your heart?’

You searched his face for a long moment before you finally nodded once and you watched as a flicker of relief splashed across his face, and for a second, you swore his eyes sparkled with tears that had been long since blinked away. 

He leaned in to kiss your forehead once and he dropped his hand away from your face and walked to the wardrobe next to his bed. He pulled on the rest of his clothing, save for his kefta, and you sunk down on a little sofa next to his bed, pulling your legs up underneath you as you watched him. 

He adjusted the collar of his shirt and as he did, the sound of footsteps distracted you from watching the man get ready. 

“Ivan. My kefta.” He called out, but once you looked past him, you could see that Ivan was not in the room. Only Alina. 

She took his heavy kefta off of his war table and approached him with hesitancy, not saying a word. 

When he turned around, his face changed in surprise and he shook his head once. 

“You’re not Ivan.” He remarked. 

Alina looked down at the kefta in her arms and shifted a bit. 

“Sorry to disappoint.” 

“Do I sense a little disdain for my Heartrender?” Aleksander asked, clearly amused now. 

You lifted your hand up to rest against the side of the sofa and moved close to the edge, perching yourself to stand. 

“You know, once you get to know him, he’s actually quite funny.” He added and you very slowly rose to your feet, your dress swishing. 

It didn’t rouse either of their attentions. 

“I bet you find volcra hilarious.” Alina quipped, eyes transfixed intently on Aleksander. 

He gave her a smile and she nodded to the kefta in her arms. 

“May I?” She asked, unfolding the thick garment. 

“Thank you.” He replied and turned around, allowing the Sun Summoner to slide the kefta around his shoulders. 

You eyed them warily and stayed silent, your teeth searching for a bit of your cheek you could bite down on. 

“I hear you were able to focus and split light without the gloves.” He spoke, eyeing you as he got his kefta on with her help. 

“I appreciate the gesture, though.” She responded, and you pressed your lips together. 

You stepped in front of Aleksander and pulled the lapels of his kefta forward to adjust the coat, your brow furrowing only slightly. You didn’t miss the amused smile that made the corners of his lips curl upwards before he turned back towards Alina.

“Well, they were only a safeguard, really. In case of nerves.” He informed her, and you watched as the girl leaned slightly closer to Aleksander. 

Half of you had made peace with the fact that you and Aleksander didn’t make it incredibly public knowledge that you… were together? Was that even the right way to describe your situation? You didn’t know how to answer that. Yet, the other half of you, despite clarification on where you stood with him, wanted to pull him backwards and stand between the two of them. You almost gagged in spite of yourself. Or maybe it was in spite of them.

“I imagine there are few gatherings in Keramzin that involve such… spectacle.” He commented down at her and you wanted to speak up. Make them aware that you were still in the room. 

No. Don’t. You told yourself. 

“None, in fact.” Alina answered. 

She peered over his shoulder and caught your eyes. You weren’t sure of what your face looked like, but she widened her eyes and quickly moved away from him.

“But I’m actually not that nervous! I may have considered throwing myself down the stairs to get out of it once or twice.”  She left his bed chambers and much to your antipathy, he followed her. 

You stood back for a moment as they continued to chat before you gathered the skirts of your dress and walked through the doorway of his bed chambers and brushed past the two of them, squaring your shoulders as you passed by. You slipped out of the room with a sigh of annoyance and you walked down the hallway. You listened to the taps of your boots against the marble floors and you puffed out your cheeks. 

Jealousy wasn’t something that came naturally or easily to you. You’d always been sure of yourself, aware that you were likely the prettiest face in the room, confident in your abilities and powers. You were almost sick to admit that perhaps you were jealous of Alina. 

She got to be by his side tonight. She got to wear a kefta just like him. She got to be shown off to the rest of the world as Ravka’s saving grace. 

You didn’t want that for yourself. Not really. But you didn’t want it for her, either, selfishly. 

Did you even have a right to feel jealous? It’s not like Aleksander had explicitly said that you were his and he was yours. You felt fair in assuming such, but then again, you’d always been a little too sure of yourself. 

You simply shook the thought away and headed off to report to the Queen. 

-

“Oh, it’s nothing, moya tsaritsa. Only a little headache. I’ll be off to find a healer and back to the party before you know it.” 

Lie. 

You felt bad lying to the Queen as you rose from your seat next to her and scurried out of the room. You’d made yourself scarce all day, with the exception of being with the Queen, and you planned on keeping the pattern. 

You just didn’t want to watch Aleksander and Alina. 

You walked out to the courtyard and weaved around horses and guests until you were on the outskirts of the palace grounds. You were thankful that you could finally breathe without sharing the breath with someone else in your proximity. The cool evening’s air swirled around what skin of yours was exposed and it chilled your cheeks, tinting them pink. You flexed your fingers a bit and tapped imaginary points in the air at your sides, little fissures of silvery light appearing underneath your fingertips. 

You tried your best to be apathetic about everything that you’d felt during the day, and you kept walking, approaching a thick bramble of trees.

A loud scream escaped your lips when you felt a cold hand clasp around your wrist and you yanked your wrist back, stumbling backwards on the uneven path. You fell back and caught yourself on your elbows, preparing your hands to summon the moon. Your eyes settled upon a head of white hair and you furiously widened your eyes.

“Baghra!” You yelled and looked down at your dress. It was dusty from the dirt and you could feel a little tear in your sleeve, just above your elbow, “What is the meaning of this?” You asked angrily. 

You climbed to your feet and stared down at the old woman, your lips tugging downwards in a heavy frown. 

“Don’t look at me like that, girl. You need to get away from here as quickly as you can.” She stated venomously and you gaped at her. You shook your head with a dry laugh and you went to speak but she cut you off instantly. 

“You are being used, you stupid girl. Aleksander. He is using you. Just the same way he is using the sun girl. I am warning you, y/n, please. You must go. I will tell her the same thing but hear me now-“

“What are you going on about?” You asked snappily, your eyes narrowing on her. 

“You and Alina Starkov are but pawns in Aleksander’s game. He does not mean to liberate Ravka from The Fold. He does not mean to create heroes out of the three of you. Has he promised you otherwise?” 

“No. He hardly speaks of The Fold to me.” You replied defensively. Your hand formed fists at your side and you could feel your fingers begin to thrum with the electric feeling of the moon pooling within them. 

“No? Perhaps he’s just too busy distracting you with sweet words and little touches? Keeping you from your lessons, insisting you don’t need them, only to drown you with his attention. Making you feel special and perhaps even loved?”

You didn’t respond, and your silence became her indication to keep speaking. 

“Trust me, stupid girl. He’s making Alina feel the same exact way.” She finished and then she shook her head, “Do what you will, Lady y/n. You’ve always known this to be your home. I understand it must be hard to fathom leaving, but if you want to live free of chains, you’ll go. I’ve arranged safe passage out of Os Alta tonight. If you wish to join Alina, then you’ll meet her and I down the hill behind The Grand Palace. Half past midnight.” 

You stared at her in disbelief and you wanted to argue, but she had already turned and retreated back into the trees, and you swore that you watched shadows engulf her.   

-

You were only human at your very core. 

That’s what you kept telling yourself as you cried into your hands on your balcony. Only human at your very core… right?

Who knew if Baghra was right? At least about Aleksander’s intentions. This isn’t what bothered you. 

“He’s making Alina feel the same exact way.” Her words echoed in your head and only made you cry harder, and you let out a frustrated groan and you hit the side of your head with the heel of your hand, as if the impact would knock the thought right out of your mind. 

It would explain her behavior earlier that day. It would easily explain how she, too, knew his name- and before you. It explained the way she gazed up at him; dreamily, as if she’d fallen head over heels already. 

You weren’t going to leave Os Alta, that was for certain. You couldn’t. You adored your Queen and you hadn’t known a life outside of the Ravkan Capital. You’d just learn to avoid Aleksander. Perhaps that was a good thing. It would cease your distractions from the Queen and King. 

“I’ve never seen you cry before. I don’t like it.” 

You jumped at the sound of Aleksander’s voice behind you and you wrapped your arms around yourself and you shook your head. 

“Go away please.” You whispered. 

You didn’t really want him to go away. Not deep down, at least. He probably knew that, too. He knew you better than anyone.

Hands gently grabbed your arms and coaxed you away from the iron railing of your balcony and you were being turned around before you could protest it. You didn’t meet his eyes when you were moved to face him. 

“I have been made aware that Baghra sought you out. I don’t know what was said, but I’m sure I can only assume it had something to do with planting doubt in your mind based on the way she was sure you’d have run far away from here by now. But you aren’t a runner. I know that.”

His words made more tears spill over your cheeks and you still refused to look at him until he tapped underneath your chin and tilted your head backwards slightly. 

“I care not about your intentions with The Fold, Aleksander. I said I trusted you and I meant it. Perhaps that’s where I went wrong though. Because I do care that you were stringing me along at the same time as Alina. If you needed something of me, it would’ve been best to lay it out on the table. Not bury me in your sweet kisses and words until I was nothing but a mindless slave with no questions for you.” 

“Is that what you believe you are to be to me? A mindless slave?” He asked and you simply shrugged. 

You expected an angry outburst, you expected him to chastise you loudly, but it never came. Instead, he took your face in his hands and he swiped his thumbs underneath your wet eyes to rid you of the tears on your cheeks. 

“You are strong and you are intelligent. No one could make a mindless slave out of you. Not even I. My kisses and gentle words are reserved for you and you alone. Not Alina. Never Alina. You, however. Oh, how do I begin? Ever since I watched you kill that Fjerdan, I knew that I had to have you by my side. One way or another. Though, as a lover was preferable.

You are disarming in the most wonderful way, and though you may not know all of my secrets yet, you have already released them from their chambers. I’m tempted to call you a thief with the way you’ve stolen my heart away, but if I’m to be honest with you, y/n, I’d be lying if I said I didn't hand it to you willingly.” He murmured earnestly. His eyes shone with his own tears, and though they never fell, the message was still there. 

You fell forward over his chest and laid your head on the center of it and his arms weaved around you protectively. Defensively. Adoringly. 

He showered kisses atop your head and you two stood in silence for a very long time like that. 

Perhaps you’d be burned for trusting him this way. In every way. Perhaps you wouldn’t. Only time would tell. But in that moment, all that mattered was that he was there. Questions about Baghra’s words could wait. They weren’t meant to be spoken now. No words were meant to be spoken now. 

Until he did finally speak. 

“My love, I do hate to ruin such tender moments,  but I’m in desperate need of your help. There will be plenty of time for me to make up for every single tear spilled from your pretty eyes this evening, and that I promise you. However, your skill set is needed.” He said softly, his tone apologetic. 

You stayed against his chest for a while longer and then finally nodded, “Of course. Whatever you need, Aleksander.”

-

You walked hand in hand with The Darkling down the candlelit hallway, deep within the Palace, and you two were accompanied by one of his Squallers, Zoya. 

Aleksander had filled you in quickly. Alina had been kidnapped and there had been an attempt on her life. You couldn’t help but feel relieved that you hadn’t been the one on his arm all night now. They now held a man associated with the crime deep underneath the Palace, and they needed him to talk. 

That’s where you came in. 

“Has he talked?” He asked, his hand tightening around yours in a manner you could only imagine was protective.  

“A lot of lies,” Zoya answered, “Ivan’s with him.” 

You entered the room with him and Zoya and your eyes fell upon Ivan’s intimidating figure standing tall behind a small, pudgy man who was bound to a chair. 

“I’ve been swindled,” The man said simply, desperation twinging his words, “hoodwinked.”

Aleksander didn’t seem to care and he squeezed your hand once more. 

“My guards tell me that they caught you fleeing the scene of the crime.” He spoke. 

You rolled your shoulders back and stood tall, carefully releasing your hand. If you were to get answers out of this man, he had to fear you. You didn’t much command fear while clutching your General’s hand. 

“Yes. I followed them.” The man insisted. 

“Followed whom?” Aleksander prompted, lifting his head curiously. 

“They come from the other side of The Fold. From the start, they seemed, just, a bit off to me, so when they left our stage, at the fete, I followed them. To see what they were up to, and at the time that I walked into that room, they were gone and… Saints, it was… unspeakable. So I ran… I…” 

You snorted and then you stepped forward, “No, that’s not the truth.” You interjected and then looked to Ivan with a raised eyebrow. 

“He did cross The Fold with the others,” Ivan began, “The rest were lies.” 

You gave a satisfied nod and you looked up at Aleksander who swept his hand out for you, inviting you to step closer to the man. 

The man began to insist that he wasn’t lying, but you and everyone else in that room knew, you couldn’t lie to a Heartrender. 

You stepped behind the man and you laid your hands on his temples, “Do you want to tell the truth to The General?” You asked lowly. He didn’t respond. 

“Do you know we keep records of everyone who crosses The Fold?” Aleksander began, and then rattled off the known passages for the evening. 

“You didn’t cross with them. Did you?” You asked, leaning down close to his ear. 

He shuddered but he didn’t answer. You looked up at Aleksander who nodded and you closed your eyes. Your fingertips began to glow and they grew so cold that they burned, you pressed them tightly against the man’s skin and he clenched his teeth. You eased off a bit and then cleared your throat. 

“You have another way across The Fold. What is it?” You asked slowly. 

“I don’t know what you mean.” He protested, but Ivan cut him off. 

“He does.” 

You sighed and brought forth your power again, this time a bit more and he winced sharply as the bitter cold from your fingers cut into his skin and left it frostbitten. 

“I’m an entertainer!” He exclaimed, “Oskar, Oskar Krepkov!” He shouted as you pushed more of your light forth, watching his veins turn white and stony underneath your touch, just as they’d been filled with moonstone. 

You eased off when Aleksander came towards the two of you and lifted up the man’s sleeve. 

“Well that is certainly entertaining. You are The Conductor,” he said darkly, revealing scars of tallies up his inner forearm, “Arken Visser, are you not?“ he pulled away from the man and gave you a nod again as he walked away.

“You smuggle Grisha out of my palace! You help them abandon the war effort.”

“No, I deal in-“ he was cut off by a sudden sharp pain in his head, caused by you pressing the heels of your hands to the hardened veins over his temples. You closed your eyes tightly and worked to spread the unforgiving cold of your light through his head, feeling it spread through his veins while Aleksander questioned the man about a woman named Nina. 

You zoned back in as Aleksander finished, and you opened your eyes to look up at him. 

“…might that have something to do with you, Mr. Visser?” He asked, in reference to Nina’s disappearance. 

“No.” He answered shakily, his teeth now beginning to chatter. You were lowering his body temperature by now surely, and his lips began to glaze over, tinted with blue. 

“I don’t!” He protested again, his voice shaky. Ivan confirmed this and the man let out a shaking sigh, “See?”

“May I interject?” You asked and looked up at Aleksander who nodded once. 

“By all means, Darling. Speak your mind.” He said with a little grin licking at the corners of his lips. 

“You might want to begin talking, Mr. Visser. Your heart is slowing and you are freezing from the inside out. The light of the moon is a cold one.” You whispered and you felt him stiffen under your hands. 

Aleksander had a proud smirk on his face and he glanced back down at Arken. 

“My guess, you struck a deal with these three thieves to kidnap Alina Starkov. But you have a stronger relationship with a certain West Ravkan general, who has notions of ruling his own country. So long as The Fold separates him from us- darling, I think you’re being too gentle with him,” he added for you, and then walked around the chair, brushing past you gently, “So you made another deal. You put on a disguise. And you played at being assassin.”

You took a deep breath and summoned more of your power, the beams of light from your hands beginning to sear into the skin of his temples.

“That’s right!” He cried, in obvious pain, “The prize to bring her back to Ketterdam was a million! Split four ways. But Zlatan offered me the same number… to kill her, so,” he let out another scream as you tightened your grip on his head and Aleksander’s eyes widened, “you give me half that, I’ll get revenge for you. I can get close to Zlatan!” He tried to bargain, but he didn’t have much left to bargain with. 

Aleksander looked at Ivan and Zoya pointedly and they began to walk away. 

“No.” Aleksander answered and then looked up at you, “I think I’ll handle that myself. And I think… I’ll let my lovely Moon Summoner handle you.” 

He gave you a short nod and stood with his hands behind his back and you nodded back at him. 

Arken began to scream and protest between the chattering of his teeth and you rolled your shoulders back, and just like the Fjerdan that attacked Alina, you shot a bright beam of silver light through his temples and let go, watching as his head fell back limply on his neck. 

Aleksander stepped towards you just as you stepped away from the now dead man, and he grasped your freezing wrists, pulling you to his chest.

“Promise me,” he began, leaning down close to your face, “Promise me that you’ll stand by my side forever. We will be revered, formidable. I will give you a crown, I will give you my love, I will give you whatever you ask for, if you promise me forever.” He pleaded and stared down into your eyes desperately. 

There was nothing that you wanted more in that moment and you studied his black eyes for a long time, searching for any sense of trickery within them, but all you found was the same want that you wore within your own eyes. 

Perhaps you’d be burned for trusting him this way. In every way. Perhaps you wouldn’t. Only time would tell. All you could do was accept his offer now, and give him your payment in the form of three words.  

“I promise. Forever.”