#and it's about the not saying 'i love you' in those words but saying it in a thousand other ways

[hexescore]

oh and by the way, i love you.

♡ ◞ includes: caitlyn, ekko, jayce, jinx, mel, sevika, viktor, vi.

☆ ◞ summary: first 'i love you's with (character)!

△ ◞ warnings: gn! reader. pre-established relationship (caitlyn, jinx, mel, viktor). friends-to-lovers (ekko, jayce, sevika, vi).

CAITLYN KIRAMMAN

It's quiet, the early morning blessing you both with a peaceful silence that allows you two to truly appreciate the sight in front of you— each other. Caitlyn enjoys moments like this, waking up with you, getting to see the way the rising sun filters through her curtains to cast a golden glow across your skin.

Her hand, which is in yours, gives a gentle squeeze. You give her a sleepy smile, and she chuckles as she leans in to press a quick peck to your lips, and then another, and another, before you're both shuffling together, closer. Legs and arms entangled, a slowness in you both knowing that neither of you have to leave anytime soon.

"You know," She whispers, her eyes shut. She had imagined how she'd say this a million times, wondered when it'd be the right time, but Caitlyn quickly realizes that perhaps the right time is the time she makes to say it. So she makes the time. "I love you."

Your heart skips a beat, and you pull away to look at her. Her eyes open, and you can see the panic flashing in her eyes- was it too soon? did she get confused? had she-

"I love you, too." Her tense form immediately relaxes again, and she buries her head into your neck, shaking her head as she lets out a breathless laugh. You laugh along with her, both of you feeling nerves and excitement at those words.

"Don't scare me like that," she whines against your skin. Indulging this rare side of Caitlyn, you gently pat her back, cooing at her.

"'m sorry, 'm sorry, won't happen again." You'll definitely respond faster next time!

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

EKKO

Ekko had been acting quite strange as of late, and had you been any less keen you'd just assume he was busy- but this was different, he was most definitely avoiding you! Which is why you devised a plan to corner him and get to the bottom of this whole situation.

It was like any other day, except you had been lying in wait. Waiting, and waiting, until he was finally alone. You continued to follow him to a secluded area. "Ekko." He tensed up, but recovered quickly as he turned to glance at you.

"Oh, uh, hey, what's up?" Was he serious? You cross your arms over your chest, giving him a pointed look. Ekko's guilty conscious is clear as day when it comes to you, from the way his Adam's apple bobs to the way his fist clench and unclench. You frown.

"Ekko..." He doesn't say anything. "Alright, I'll ask it. Why have you been avoiding me?" He falters, looking ashamed. He knew it was wrong to avoid you, but when he came to realize how intense his emotions were for you it freaked him out. He hadn't... He didn't mean to... well, fall in love, during such a time.

The silence is heavy, and you debate just leaving, before Ekko clears his throat. "There are things that I've been meaning to tell ya... I'm just having a hard time finding the words..." He scratches the back of his neck.

"Like?" You press, needing to know what has been so hard to say that he's been avoiding you.

"Like... I love you?"

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

JAYCE TALIS

"Jayce? What are you doing?" Jayce, with his hand respectfully on your lower back, guides you away from the boring and artificial conversations of Piltover's finest. He excuses you both, much to your dismay. "Where are you taking me?"

"Somewhere private," He says through a tense smile. You soon find yourself down the hall, away from the party but still able to hear it's chatter. It seems Jayce hadn't prepared for what comes after he got you away from those flirty elites.

"Well?" You ask, head tilted in a questioning way. "Are you going to explain why you so rudely pulled me away? I was about to get some nice funding for your-" Jayce cuts you off, desperation rolling off of him in waves.

"Because I love you," He says, "And I can't stand to see them look at you, touch you-" He stops to take a deep breath before he gets himself too worked up. "Look, I know... I know you probably don't feel the same, and I understand if you don't, but-"

"Jayce," You call once, and like an obedient dog he stops everything he's doing. Instead he waits, hanging on to your words. Your arms wrap around his neck, and you pull him into a kiss. It's needy, filled with want and love and passion. Until you can't breath, you wait until you can't breathe to pull away, and look him in the eyes.

"I love you."

For the first time that night, Jayce's lips curl into a genuine smile. It's so bright and warm you get weak in the knees and butterflies in your stomach.

"Can we ditch the party now?"

"Oh definitely."

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

JINX

"Wrench!" Jinx calls dramatically, hand stuck out and awaiting her tool- which you promptly hand to her, repeating her words 'wrench.' She giggles as she grasps the wrench and twists a few bolts on her latest invention.

When she finishes, she takes in inhale of breath, ready to shout the next tool she needs, but already in her hand is a can of spray paint. She blinks a few times- how did you know? She grins, looking back at you, before looking at the can of spray paint.

"This is why I love you, ya know that?" She says, not really processing the words until you say them back to her.

"You... You love me?" The shock is evident in your voice. It's not that Jinx hasn't shown her love, her affections, for you, but this is the first time she's vocalized them and it has your heart hammering in your chest. She blinks a few times, lifting her goggles to rest on top her head.

"I did say that, didn't I?" She says, more to herself than to you. She then looks you in the eyes, that sparkle in them has your throat tightening up. "Yeah, I love you." You try to speak, truly, but you can't get a word out. "Jeez, is it that surprising, thought it was obvious?"

"No, it's just-" You finally manage to speak. Actually, you finally manage to get a good look at her. Her cheeks are a little flushed, she's fiddling with her tools, she's nervous- she's vulnerable- and you feel a protective instinct come on. "I love you, too- I really, really love you."

She laughs nervously, turning away from you. That's enough emotional vulnerability she's willing to share today. "Yeah, yeah, let's not get too mushy, 'kay?" You don't push it, instead nodding along. "Uh, anyways... Hand me that wrench again...!"

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

MEL MEDARDA

"You don't have to say it back," Mel Medarda has always been diplomatic, even in your relationship. She's also always been rather guarded, keeping all her cards close to her chest- but she allows you from time-to-time to catch a peak behind her walls. "I just wanted to let you know. I... I love you."

Undoubtedly, you love her back. You've loved her from the moment she smiled at you- Mel was hard not to love. Which is why you're having a hard time responding, because how could you even possibly begin to explain just how much you love her?

Mel begins to grow withdrawn, those small anxieties nipping away at her mind. Did you not feel the same way? Had she embarrassed herself with her little display? Did she ruin this relationship in one phrase? She takes a step away from you, wondering if she should take her leave.

Thankfully before than can happen, you've caught her wrist and meet her eyes.

"I love you, too." A breath of relief leaves you both. "Mel, I... I can't even begin to explain, I mean, it's just that you... god, you, you definitely deserve a better response than this mess but, I mean it, truly. I love you. I've loved you since the moment I saw you. I'll always- I'll always love you."

"Darling..." Mel started to feel flustered, your earnest rambling getting her cool and collected persona to crack a little. "I get it."

"Right, sorr-" Before you can apologize for your cute, anxious rambling, Mel shuts you up with a kiss. Something that symbolizes that you both understand just how much you both mean to each other.

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

SEVIKA

Sevika can't help but crack a smile at your antics sometimes. She's watching you with a close eye as you dance in an exaggerated way, being goofy in a way that's so very rare in the undercity. She shakes her head as you sit in the seat across from her, wiggling your brows. "Dance with me?"

"Not a chance in hell." She snorts, "How you made me fall in love with you is still beyond me." Sevika takes a drink, not noticing what she said. You, on the other hand, have gone still. "What's wrong with you now?" She asks, already exasperated.

"You love me?"

"What're you-... Shit." She definitely didn't mean to say that, but now that it's out there, she might as well commit. She downs the rest of her drink, clears her throat, and looks away from you.

"And if I do? Would that be a problem?"

"Not at all- I love you, too!" Your enthusiasm has her taken aback once more. She looks at you incredulously, searching your face for any sign of lying or messing with her. She finds nothing but genuine love. Shit, shit, shit. Sevika was so totally unsure on how to handle this.

"You love me, huh?" When you nod, eagerly, Sevika bites her cheek. Well... She supposes if it's you, she could try and give it a shot. "I guess, yeah, I do love you... so... what're we gonna do about that?"

You had a few ideas.

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

VIKTOR

"Yes, yes, I understand." Viktor says as he wraps the scarf you gifted him around his neck. "I'll be back tonight for dinner, not to worry." You don't really believe him when he says that, still you help him zip up his winter coat.

"If you're not," You say, taking a step closer, your lips hovering over his. "I'll personally drag you back here." Your lips meet his and he hums into the kiss, pulling away with a small smile.

"I'll be here." You just hum dismissively. You'll believe when you see it. He rolls his eyes at your sass, opening the door and stepping out. "Alright, I'll see you then. Goodbye, I love you." He closes the door, and just as quickly he's trying to pry it back open.

You're laughing your ass off on the other side of the door whilst Viktor's ears turn red. "Dear, please, open the door, I forgot my keys... and I need to say those words properly..." he groans, his head resting against the door. After a few seconds, the clicks unlock and it opens to reveal you, tears in your eyes from laughing.

"This is not funny."

"It's a little funny." You tease, handing Viktor his keys. "I lov-"

"Wait," He halts you. "Let me... Let me say it properly." His blush moves from his ears to his cheeks. He takes your hand and presses a sweet kiss to it, looking up at you through his lashes. "I love you."

"I love you, too, Viktor."

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

VI

You're patching her up after a particularly brutal beating. Her job, these missions, can get pretty violent, and it's always up to you to heal her wounds. 'I don't trust any other doctor,' she explains before you inform her that you are not a doctor. Despite that she still finds you after every fight she gets herself in.

You sigh, cleaning a nasty cut on her face. "You've got to be more careful." You tsk, reveling in the way she hisses at the disinfectant. It's what she deserves after scaring you to death all these times.

"Worried 'bout my pretty face?" You scoff, rolling your eyes at her.

"More like your brain- I'm afraid you can't afford to lose anymore braincells." She laughs at your snark. She likes that about you, likes everything about you, actually. Her hands find your waist, pulling you closer to her. You huff, pulling back to get a better look at her wounds.

"Hey," Vi calls, and you just hum in response. "I love you." You freeze, before looking down at her with wide eyes.

"Did you actually get brain damage-" She bites back another laugh, shaking her head. "Vi...?"

"I love you. Have for a while, so no, this isn't a brain damage confession." Oh. You falter for a second, hands shaky as you finish placing the band-aid on her cheek.

"If you're messing with me-"

"I'm not." She insists, earnest in her affections. "So... Do you-"

"Yes." You mumble, turning your face to hide it from her. "I... Love you, too, Violet."

[babyleostuff]

⸻ first date with hip hop unit

[ 🐚 ] where they would take their partner, what they would be like taking them out for the first time & what they would do to make them feel special

scoups

place: the aquarium

what they would do to make you feel special: is such an attentive listener and the way he keeps staring at you makes you blush so much (even if you usually don't blush, it's just the cheol effect) + at the end if the date you wonder if he paid even slight attention to the fish and whatnot (you could feel his stare on you for the whole time)

what they would be like taking you out: a shy mess, keeps ruffling his hair to occupy his hands with something (cuz he has to stop himself from grabbing your hand), the biggest gentleman out there

“oh, look at this one!” you pointed excitedly at one of the fishes that just swam by right in front of you. “it’s so pretty,” you cooed. 

you took a few steps to follow the small fish, forgetting that you weren’t there alone for a moment, too mesmerised to focus on anything else. it was nice to feel like a little kid once again, not having to worry about anything other than pretty fish and the shimmering blue and pink lights that made the whole place look like straight from a fairytale. 

“would it be corny if i said that you’re prettier?” suddenly, a deep voice pulled you out of your little bubble. 

“are you comparing me to a fish?” you fake-gasped and turned around, meeting seungcheol’s brown eyes that held a mischievous look that you grew to love so much, even though you hadn’t known each other for that long. 

his gentle laugh rippled through the air. “well, if you put it that way…”

you snickered and swatted his chest playfully. “i don’t think you’re supposed to say stuff like that on a first date, choi seungcheol.”

wonwoo

place: museum/ exhibition 

what they would do to make you feel special: takes candid photos of you (the morning after the date you get a message with the photos and a text saying “that’s how i see you” )

what they would be like taking you out: so so nervous, stutters, doesn’t know what to do with his hands, feels like he’s going to die at least five times

“click” 

you whipped your head around upon hearing the familiar sound, tearing your eyes from the painting after what felt like hours. but the exhibition wonwoo took you too was truly mesmerising, you had no idea how he found this place. 

“if you wanted to take a picture you could’ve told me,” you said, taking a step to the side. “i would’ve moved.” 

wonwoo lowered the camera, his hands slightly shaking, which in your eyes made him even more adorable than he already was. not to mention the fuzzy cardigan that made him look like the cuddliest teddy bear. 

“no, it’s… i wanted to take a photo of the painting and… and you,” he said with a gentle softness in his voice, blending in with the quiet hustle of people around you. 

“oh.”

mingyu

place: the funfair/ amusement park

what they would do to make you feel special: you know those games where you have to hit the targets to win the plushies or other stuffed animals? if you kept missing, gyu would miss as well, so you wouldn't feel like you were worse (he'd win once, though, because he'd really want to gift you a teddy bear)

what they would be like taking you out: tries his best to act cocky and smug but ends up tripping over his own feet, because he keeps staring at you too much

“i was so near, like one centimeter and i would’ve hit- oh my god, mingyu!” you exclaimed, stopping in your tracks. 

the man next to you landed on the ground with a thump, face first and all, for the third time in the span of the last two hours. 

“are you okay?” you gently placed the teddy bear your date had just gifted you on the ground, trying to keep it away from the dirt, and kneeled next to him. 

“this is really embarrassing,” he mumbled, leaning his forehead against the pavement. “i swear i’m not usually like this.” 

you shook your head, not really believing his words, because yes - maybe you didn’t know each other that well, but you’ve spent enough time together for you to know that kim mingyu was quite a clumsy person. 

“why do you keep tripping all the time?” you laughed, helping him up and brushing the dirt away. 

“you seriously don’t want to know,” mingyu answered, his face red as a tomato.

vernon

place: cinema + fast food place 

what they would do to make you feel special: buys you a small bouquet of your favourite flowers (you mentioned liking them once in passing)

what they would be like taking you out: not much changes in vernon's behaviour, completely chill and vibin' (mostly due to the fact that he's in such denial that you actually agreed to go out with him that he truly believes he's dreaming)

you stared at the small bouquet vernon was holding in his hands.

“uh, those aren’t your favorite right?” he asked when you didn’t say anything, and you didn’t fail to catch the note of disappointment in his voice. “i just probably messed up the names of the flowers. sorr-,” 

“how did you know these were my favourite?” 

“well,” he scratched the back of his neck awkwardly, “you said once and i remembered, and… yeah.” 

“i mentioned it like once,” you said, still too shaken that he remembered such a small thing to grab the flowers from his hand. “wait, aren’t you allergic to pollen? what are you doing holding a whole bouquet?” 

you took the bouquet and hid it behind your back. 

“it won’t kill me, you know?” vernon said with a smile on his face.

[caffeinewitchcraft]

I love writing. The first thing I do when I get up is write, the last thing I do before I go to sleep is write. Between reading horror/fantasy/speculative fiction books, I read books on craft by anyone and everyone. My passions in life are the craft of writing AND storytelling.

Note: those are two different things. Having a story to tell and craft (the way we tell that story).

I am not saying that people who use AI to tell a story don't have a story to tell. They do! But that doesn't make them writers.

We have folktales across every culture about not accepting ourselves for who we are and that way leading to madness. Your version might go a little something like this:

A person who feels different than everyone else wishes to whoever is listening that they wake up beautiful/smart/charming. In the morning they wake to a mirror at the foot of their bed. Their reflection is all of those things! Filled with confidence, they go out into the world but, before meeting anyone, they catch sight of themself in a window. Their reflection normal but (having seen themself in the mirror) they now perceive themself as hideous.

They rush back home to check. In the mirror they're beautiful! What a relief. They stare deeply into the glass. Slowly their hair grows tangled and their clothing ragged. Days and weeks and months pass. They can't do anything without watching themself do it in the mirror. Dishes are done at the sink with the mirror blocking the window they used to love looking at the garden through. They wake with the mirror in bed with them rather than their lover. Etc, etc.

Using generative AI is like that mirror. Surface level, it makes things pretty. It may be entertaining and it may convey the story you want to convey.

But it's not your voice. It's your story, but not your voice. And it will trick you into thinking there is something wrong with your voice, that the way you tell stories is hideous, that you are incapable of the craft of writing. It will lie to you and you will live your whole life feeling disconnected from your own stories because something else is telling them for you.

That's why I'm against AI. Because I love writing. I love the way people tell stories, imperfect or perfect, because it's people telling them. Writers grow and change. Their punctuation choice, their word choice, their choice of form matter to a written story. There is connection in those decisions. A deeper level to a story that AI can never touch, only a person can.

So, please. Give your own voice a chance to grow and be heard.

[dear-aubade]

Kisses After Midnight

Pairing: Joel Miller x Reader Smut

Summary: Joel gets back from a long patrol in the middle of the night. It’s clear that his baby missed him very much.

Notes: smut, sub!reader, soft!dom!joel, praise, dirty talk, unprotected piv, Joel calls reader every pet name in the book, teasing, slight orgasm denial, dd/lg vibes sorta (but no use of ‘daddy’), let’s play a game called how many times can the author use the word ‘sweet’ in one fic

For it being the end of the world, you and Joel had a pretty good life. He’d been in Jackson for about eight months—eight months in which he gave his heart to the sweetest little thing to ever walk the earth.

Your very existence seemed to be a mockery of the times you lived in. You were soft and sweet, edges not yet roughed. He didn’t know how you’d gone so long staying as doe-eyed as you did—hell, he didn’t know how you ended up with him. He felt far too…jaded. Far too rough to be with someone so beautiful and untainted.

And yet, you were drawn to him. He still remembered the first day you knocked on his door, asking in your honey-sweet voice, I told Maria I’d give you a tour of the town. Is that alright, Mr. Miller? Oh, he’d just about died then.

Things only took off from there. Something would break in your house, and he’d be called over to fix it. Then you would bring him some bread you baked as a thank you, and then he’d say, Well this is too nice, darlin.’ Why don’t you let me return the favor by putting some shelves up in your living room? He’d seen the piles of books at your bedside—your love of reading deserved to be displayed.

Somewhere along the way, you and Joel just…fit. Something clicked, and soon he was moving into your pretty little house, placing kisses to your pretty little lips, waking up pressed against pretty little you.

Yes, for the end of the world, you and Joel were doing quite nicely.

Except on long patrol days, that is. Oh, Joel knew how much you hated it. Now that you’d gotten used to sleeping in Joel’s arms you didn’t want to give it up, not even for a single night.

But Joel had a part to play in the community—he couldn’t stop working, no matter how much he wished he could spend all his time with you. He’d press kisses to your quivering bottom lip, murmuring reassurances that he would be back the very next night.

Which brought him to now. He’d spent a day and a half out in the cold with Tommy scanning for Clickers, thinking about his princess the entire time ice and wind battered his face. Finally, after a day and a half without seeing you, he was shaking the snow off his jacket and stepping inside your shared home.

Joel was quiet as he took off his shoes and shed his outer layers before heading upstairs. Once inside your room he stripped down to his cotton t-shirt and boxers, then slid under the covers beside you. He wrapped his large arm around your body, pulling you into him and was delighted to find you were wearing nothing but one of his shirts. He nuzzled the top of your head with his nose, then placed a kiss in your hair. “Hey there, sleepyhead.”

You let out a soft yawn, still groggy and half-asleep. “Hm?”

He chuckled lightly and kissed your cheek. “Wake up, pretty baby.” Normally Joel would never wake you up in the middle of the night, but you had explicitly asked him to do so every time he got back from a long patrol. He still remembered your teary eyes the morning after the one time he’d tried to let you sleep and just greet you in the morning. He’d never tried again after that.

Now you began to really stir, blinking your eyes as you looked up at him with a soft, sleepy pout that he wanted to kiss. However, it melted away when your eyes grew a little more alert. “Joel?”

He brushed the hair from your face. “Mhmm. I’m home,” he whispered before kissing you soundly on the mouth. He pulled away just slightly, eyes dancing over your face. “I missed my gorgeous girl’s eyes…and those lips, especially.”

You leaned up to plant another firm kiss to his mouth before holding to him, nuzzling your face into his neck, letting out a soft breath of something almost like relief.

He kept you pressed to the warmth of his body, “Was my little girl lonely ‘round here?” he murmured, rubbing your back gently.

You nodded into his neck. “Missed you.”

He chuckled, kissing your neck, holding you close. “I’m right here now.” His sweet thing. His nose brushed along your jaw and neck, taking in your scent. “Let me ease that pretty little mind a bit, hm?”

Your breath hitched and you nodded, eyes getting a little more glossy…

“C’mere, babygirl…” he whispered, cradling the back of your head to pull your lips to his. Joel’s hands roamed over the curves of your body, mapping out each and every familiar piece of you, his palms warm and strong against your skin. He nibbled at your bottom lip until you parted your mouth in a gasp to allow his tongue to slip inside.

Joel soon broke the kiss, panting softly before he started trailing his lips down your throat and collarbone, nibbling and sucking as he went. “Missed that pretty little voice,” he murmured in that low voice of his. “Can you use it again for me sweetheart?” Joel knew how you got when he spoke to you like this. He knew you would be putty beneath him in no time.

You nodded, letting out a strained, “Mhmm.”

Joel pressed your back to the mattress so you were looking up at him. “Use your words, babygirl,” he reminded, dipping to kiss up your throat again. “Or do I need to make you?” His teeth caught on the sensitive skin below your jaw.

You gasped. “I-I can use ‘em.”

“Good girl,” he murmured, pulling away to look at your face, studying your expression. His fingertips brushed the edge of your neckline. “Can I take all this off, baby?”

You nodded, eyes big and wide. “Yes Joel, please.”

He let out a short, breathy chuckle. “So polite.” With that he got to work, pulling the shirt over your head with one swift tug, leaving you bare beneath him. He looked you over greedily, tracing his hands over your sides, squeezing your thighs, making you squirm. “Oh, sweetheart,” he groaned, eyes falling over your body. “Look at my sweet baby.”

You let out a soft whine of impatience, but Joel cut you off. “Ah—you gonna be a good girl?” He knew you would be. You always were. He just liked hearing it from your strawberry lips.

You nodded, eyes doe-like. “Yes, promise!”

He smiled. “Always listen so well for me.” He sat up a little to remove his own shirt and throw it to the floor, but swiftly leaned back down to kiss you deeply. You tasted like honey on his tongue and his hands slipped along your sides to rest on your hips, locking you in place.

You uselessly tried to buck against his strong hold, trying to press the apex of your thighs closer to his, but he was having none of it. He chuckled. “Needy girl…always gotta have me ‘s close as possible, hm? So greedy, baby.” His sentence was punctuated by a nip to your neck.

��Jus’ missed you.”

“I know darlin’, I know.” Such a soft, sweet voice you had. He met your big, glassy eyes as his fingertips dragged along your neck….your collarbone…until he grasped one of your breasts with his large hand.

He silenced your gasp with his kisses. His sweet girl—so sensitive, you were. You whimpered into his mouth as he brushed his thumb over the peak of your breast.

How had he been apart from you so long?

You were aching. Joel always likes taking his time with you, you knew that, but sometimes all you wanted him to do was pin you down and ravish you instead of playing you like his favorite instrument, stringing his fingers along each little spot that would make you sing….

Joel’s warm mouth closed around your breast and you let out another soft whimper as he flicked his tongue over the peak. Your hands were in his hair, threading through the salt-and-pepper curls while his tongue and teeth were at work.

Eventually, you couldn’t take it anymore. “Joel,” you whined, voice quivering.

“Don’t worry pretty girl, I’m gonna give you what you need.” His fingertips dragged down the center of your tummy, drifting farther and farther below…

“Oh,” Joel cooed, and you moaned softly as his fingers dipped into your wetness. “You’re so ready for me, sweetheart.”

You felt like you could cry from the need, the white hot flames that needed to be fanned and then extinguished. “Joel—”

“I’ll take care of you, darlin’. Don’t worry your pretty little head.”

His thumb found purchase on your bundle of nerves and you keened, arching your back, trying to get closer closer closer while he stoked the fire between your legs. He held you the whole time, murmuring how beautiful you were, how pretty your little voice was, how good you were being for him.

You could feel yourself slowly unraveling; the thread of your very being was fraying, coming apart as you climbed higher, higher—

He removed his hand.

Oh, you whined at that, your climax being ripped away so cruelly and carelessly. “No, no, Joel I—”

“Shh, shh baby.” He quieted your protests with a kiss. “I just had to get you ready for me—want you to finish around my cock.”

His bluntness made you squirm, and you’d been so lost in your pleasure that you hadn’t realized you could feel his hardness against your hip, thick and heavy.

Joel shucked down his boxers and tossed them to the side while you lay there waiting, aching for that fullness you knew so well—

You squealed as he tapped the wet tip of his length against the bud atop your slit.

He chuckled and silenced your high-pitched noises with gentle shushing. “I gotcha, honey,” he murmured.

Then he slid inside.

Joel let out a soft groan next to your ear as he fully sheathed himself within your wetness. “So tight for me baby—“ He cut off with another grunt, sliding out before pushing right back in.

He was so big, his strong arms holding you as he rocked his hips, filling you up, up, up until you swear you could feel him in your tummy. Your walls clenched against him, breath hitching with every thrust.

“My baby,” he crooned, ducking his head to kiss along your neck and shower you with praises as he held you to him. “My sweet babygirl. Missed you so much out on the trail, thought about your pretty little pussy the whole time—”

Your head fell back with a gasp as the tip of Joel’s hardness tickled that spot deep inside that had your toes curling.

He chuckled. “Is that the spot, baby?” He pointedly thrust again, making you moan, and grinned knowingly. “Oh, I think it is, hm?” He picked up his pace again, hitting that spot over and over and over.

You felt something start to coil in your lower belly, something familiar and white-hot. Joel reached down to rub circles into your clit, which made you let out a high-pitched whimper and clench around his length.

You were babbling mindlessly, thoughts empty save for him and how good he was making you feel. “Joel, Joel, I—oh please—I need—”

“I know what you need babygirl.” His teeth caught on your earlobe as he kept his pace. “Can feel—fuck—can feel you clamping down on me. You gonna finish for me already?”

You nodded, your lips parted in a silent gasp of need, eyes big and wide as you whined out a desperate, “Mhmm!”

You bucked your hips into his, and this time when you felt your legs tighten, your breath fail, your tummy coil, Joel murmured hushed affirmatives you your jaw and neck and ear—

You cried out as you fell over the edge. Your back arched, your muscles seized, and your vision blurred with overwhelmed tears as you felt the warmth of Joel finishing inside you soon after.

“That’s it sweetie—fuck, so good for me, such a good girl falling apart on my cock, taking me so well—”

You were letting out desperate needy noises, his name falling from your lips like a prayer as the crackling heat lingered.

“I know, I know,” he murmured, claiming your lips, swallowing your whines with his mouth. “You did so good baby, so good….look at you, my pretty girl, my baby….”

Your body went lax, melting against him, each coo and murmur bringing you deeper under.

“That’s it…I’ve gotcha…” Joel maneuvered you as if you were light as a feather so that you were laying side by side, still connected, him still thick and warm inside of you.

Completely blissed out, you nuzzled into his chest, relishing in the feeling of his strong arms around you. Your eyes drooped.

“Tired already, babygirl?”

“Mmm.”

Joel hummed and pressed a kiss to your forehead. “That’s okay, darlin’. Just fall back to sleep. I’ll be holdin’ you the whole night through.”

Soon the fog overtook your mind completely and you drifted off, comforted by the knowledge that your Joel was home again.

[dirtylittlesecre7]

Oh my gosh— someone who writes for nam-gyu? Am I dreaming?! I CANNOT find any fics of him!! Need headcannons about him rn😩 I feel like that man would enjoy making you cry and upset, like he would grin and laugh while doing so. (Cough— Hatefuck—cough..) Just need headcannons about that man so bad😩🫣

This is actually my first time asking, so I really don't know what to say🥲 but I hope you consider this🫶🫶🫶

-🌟anon

warning | nsfw content

word count | 0,6k

a/n | thank you so much for your request luv! I hope I could write something as you wanted

！he's had mixed feelings from the moment he first saw you. hate? anger? like?

oh no, not like. he just hates you so much that he wants to fuck you until you know your place.

"fucking bitch."

"huh?" thanos looked at him incomprehensibly, about to turn his head to you, but nam-gyu quickly changed the subject "nothing."

！he's insanely jealous of thanos👀 even if you don't respond to his flirting, seeing a man next to you makes him angry enough. at least it gives him a reason to make you cry more.

！he should be the only one who annoys you. if he sees someone picking on you, he'll quickly intervene, at first he'll protect you from that person, but then...

"are you too stupid to not protect yourself? no. don't even think about crying." his emotionless voice makes you tremble as he watches you quickly wipe your tears away "good. don't you dare unless I make those tears flow."

！he likes to tease you until you cry because he thinks you look so beautiful with tears in your eyes. If you turn your head and try to hide your face from him, he will forcefully grab your chin and make you look at him with your eyes full of tears. you will see that he is trying to calm down by taking a deep breath because oh...you have no idea how horny he is.

！If he can't sleep at night, he will come to your bed and bother you. If he can't sleep, you can't sleep either. but strangely, talking at night is when you get along the most. guess you are both too tired to argue, but that doesn't mean he won't say a few things about you.

okay, now please hear me out..

！this man is completely clingy when he loves you, but he is also hard when he fucks you, I can't say he doesn't like slow sex, but when he can fuck you like crazy, he doesn't really think about the other option.

！I say clingy because he can never be comfortable if his hand is not on your body in some way. he has to touch you in some way so that he feels better. when you least expect it, you may find his hands on your waist pulling you closer to him "mm...look who's here?"

！If we talk about life outside of the game, you can become his only world. yes, he likes to make you cry and upset. but only you. the others have never caught his attention and they don't. he still thinks you have the most beautiful tears.

！I can't say he's very loud in bed. he'll mostly let out short gasps and short moans. he likes listening to you more, whine for him and he'll make you see stars.

！he likes to tease you and make you cum so much that you cry from sensitivity. when you beg him to stop, he just puckers his lower lip in a mocking tone.

"aw.. does it hurt? what should I do?" he leans into your ear while his fingers, which don't stop, hit the inside of your pussy hard while you just had your 3rd orgasm "Is that all you can take? c'mon.. you can give me more, hm? ah..yes don't hide your voice from me, fuck-"

！he'll run his hand over you while you're sleeping at night, sorry not sorry. when you open your eyes and notices how his fingers are expertly tangled in your wetness, he'll smirk and say "you awake? good. now you better spread your legs for me and be loud as possible."

he's obsessed with you in some way, romantic or not, and he has no plans to leave your side.

[boopshoops]

What your favorite TWST character says about you :)

As a note before I begin: I saw one of these that shamed malleus and randomly even chenya enjoyers- (claimed that they were pick mes or something? 😭) so i wanted to make one that was more positive out of spite <3 make it more about the writing and why people appreciate the characters. Take each of these with a grain of salt i spose- also a lot of them share similar themes <3

(Aka fans who have different views or even blatantly incorrect views of characters will always exist everywhere, but insulting the entirety of a group solely for enjoying a character, many for different reasons, is probably not a great idea!

I get that sometimes people suck and thats understandable, but quit generalizing ok? Ok.

From a malleus enjoyer who just thinks hes a silly little guy and im tired of feeling like i have to defend myself bc he's my blorbo 😵‍💫)

Final note: i love unapologetically taking frustration and turning it into something that can make people smile 💕 also i blindly wrote this from 11pm-midnight :))) dividers by @/cafekitsune!

Heartslabyul:

Riddle: you enjoy and/or relate to the idea of healing from the past. Working hard to improve oneself for the ones around you and yourself: creating a healthier environment where you can be happy

Trey: there is immense complexity in things that are seemingly mundane. Digging deeper and deeper to find something truly sweet and heart warming is your joy.

Cater: maybe you relate, or maybe you used to, or maybe parts of the connections made in the past/presence/future dont feel as deep as you truly want them to be. There is something beautiful about a desire for genuine human connection, but also peace in being alone. There is a safe space for you yet, just be patient. 💕

Deuce: you love drive and determination. An endless stubbornness that keeps one going against all odds. Against every person who tells someone they cant. You watch them get proven wrong, and its pure bliss.

Ace: you find the connection between people beyond words heartwarming: even the seemingly simple ones. The ability to have a connection with someone who can get up to some mischief, tease back and forth, yet be there when you need them to be one of the most valuable things.

Savanaclaw:

Leona: Adversity over a lack of belief in oneself is a very difficult thing to overcome- yet it is very possible with the right crowd, the right amount of time, healing, and effort. You think someone's worth lies more than just within their title/job/appearance, but within the fact that they are able to stand back up and keep moving onward despite the odds. The hope for that change, and the ability to get out of bed in the morning on its own is strength.

Ruggie: Despite being through so much trauma at such a young age, recovery happens anyway. Its not perfect, at times the lessons learned are even rough. The survival tactics that once helped are now hard to ditch when theyre not needed anymore, but the ability to smile and joke and keep pushing onwards is something you value in life.

Jack: Self discipline can be both extremely useful as well as harmful in different ways. You find the way people can constantly strive to better themselves at what they love and/or morally to be highly admirable.

Octavinelle:

Azul: People can be cruel. And sometimes that cruelty inspires cruelty. Sometimes its simply used as a way to move on and survive insecurities created from it. Its hard, its a fight, but those insecurities are part of what make people beautiful. They are nothing to be ashamed of, and even the many tactics and smart ways of learning to overcome cruelness can be beautiful too.

Jade: The mind is extremely powerful. Intelligence and knowledge are not the only important things, no. Using that intel to find entertainment in the surrounding world can be exhilarating. Finding and discovering new unknowns: learning their ins and outs until they're a part of you is something you can relate to.

Floyd: speaking of fun- you love what is essentially the written version of a roller coaster. Ups and downs, ins and outs. Every single twist and turn is exhilarating and new. Every different perspective provides new insight into a multitude of different things. You are along for the ride, and you are having a lovely time.

Scarabia:

Jamil: self discovery can be very difficult after purposefully suppressing parts of one's self for a long time. Yet, the healing happens anyway (once again aha <3). People discover new parts of themselves, slowly becoming more comfortable not only with their environment, but how they react to it. The discovery is freedom, and freedom is bliss to you. New traits about oneself bloom like a flower: if not in the soil, then stubbornly in the cracks of cement. You gently take that bloom from the concrete and pot it, placing it gingerly in a beam of sunlight.

Kalim: Happiness isnt only sunshine to the one smiling, but to everyone else around them. It is delightfully infectious. However, happiness isnt a constant. You think emotions all emotions should be experienced rather than suppressed, because holding back sadness for the sake of others is a disservice to one's self. Discovering your own emotions, any range of them, is what makes people uniquely human. If anyone is holding those emotions back- hell, any part of them back, they need to be let out of the cage.

Pomefiore:

Vil: "Beauty is on the inside" is a saying thats been around for a long time, but beauty comes in so many forms. It can come from the stubborn desire to improve one's self: to be kinder, to help those around you, to be good. However it is impossible to be perfect. At times, for some, this can be crushing. People are hurt unintentionally, natural frustration can brew, the wrong actions can be taken: and thats okay. You believe whats important is to pick yourself up and keep going. To err is to be human, and that is beautiful too.

Rook: Error is beautiful. Symmetry is beautiful. Asymmetry is beautiful. A crack in the side walk is beautiful. Small things are beautiful, big things are beautiful. The nurturing of something through endless care is beautiful. The undeniable traits and hobbies of every individual that make them unique are beautiful. You find the endless optimism in finding beauty to be, in itself, beautiful.

Epel: Sometimes people will view others in ways that they wish not to be perceived as. This isnt in our control, as much as we sometimes want it to be. All you can do i be unapologetically yourself. To be you to the utmost degree. To prove those who thought otherwise to be foolish. You find this strength to find value in yourself despite others opinions admirable.

Ignihyde:

Idia: you have depression /j

Ok for real-

Life can be such a cunt. It can beat a person down, down, down and leave them vulnerable enough to fear it. To fear that beating, whenever it may next come. The anxiety of never knowing what or who will come next, or what one could lose. At times it feels more comforting to find a routine in solitude. But you know that the small things that give joy will wiggle their way in with time. The broken will meet people who love and care and find comfort in the companionship of healing, even from the little things: like a new story to read or game to play.

Ortho: You value unconditional support. Support through everything: the good, the bad, the just kind of okay. Knowing that someone can have ones back for every little thing- to be there solely because they care and wish the best for others- is something you look up to and maybe even wish to be for another.

Diasomnia:

Malleus: god damn people can be so hard to read and understand. They are so complicated: they are books you have to pay attention to from start to finish. But once you reach the end, you have a deep seated appreciation for them, and for the ones who stuck around to read your book too. Even if it was just for a fleeting moment: it is a happy moment. As painful as temporary things can be, it is also what you think can make the relationships we love and have loved so valuable.

Lilia: there can be suffering everywhere. There is war. There is famine. But there are also endless new sights to see. New discoveries to be made to help those still going through famine and war. New ways to love and understand people you never thought you'd understand. The development and positive parts of humanity, even though at times it can look bleak, are ever present to you. You love the discovery: of places and of people.

Silver: you believe that there is solace in being your own individual, regardless of who you are bound by blood to. Being shaped my experiences, friends, hardships, and new places are what make a person who they are. You value finding roots in and making your own home.

Sebek: Dedication can be a hard thing to come by, but when it does it can grab someone by the reigns. Using every waking moment to cherish that thing, learn more about it, become better at something, and strive to better ones self can be very admirable to you. But, on the other hand, it also calls for the occasional rest.

OTHER (just for ones I know well enough, sorry!)

Neige: You love kindness despite hardship. One can go through horrible things and still choose to be kind. The world could begin to end, and one could still choose to be kind, because it means everything.

Chenya: Curiosity fuels exploration. It fuels art. It fuels everything. It fuels excitement. It fuels friendships. It fuels medicine. It fuels life. Curiosity is endlessly fun, and you think that is very whimsical

Meleanor: Sacrifice for others can be tragic. Knowing what another person has given up for someone else, maybe even everything, is gut wrenching but undeniably a selfless love to you.

Crewel: There can be kindness in strictness. In teachings, there can be a parental guide. There can be someone who cares for you and undeniably wants you to succeed. They know that you can, so they push you towards it. You want this support.

Trein: Love surpasses time. When the ones we love are gone, the memories of them are still held close, with the love once given to them, we can show to others through advice and guidance that comes with time. You find comfort in that.

Crowley: People are flawed. We all know this, yet despite a persons flaws... however many there may be, there is still something hopeful and human about it. About having those flaws and persisting regardless. You may even like those flaws, and the unashamed desire to press on even with them on display.

Fellow/Ernesto: Live for yourself. This is what you desire. People are often caught up in material or monetary things. After all, we live in a world that required it to survive and even be respected. To throw away those views and simply live as you see fit: regardless as to whether you earn those things or not, is something you admire.

Rollo: Sometimes the attachment we have to those we lost can be painful. Regardless, that pain is proof that there was care and love. The things done for others, whether alive or dead, are done selflessly. Grief can fuel hatred, but it can also be caused by love. To unlearn hatred and learn to love again after the fear of loss is a natural human experience. It is a process you understand and admire those who take the time and strength needed to properly love again.

Thank you for reading <3

Tags <3

@lowcallyfruity @skriblee-ksk @justm3di0cr3 @cecilebutcher @kitwasnothere

@techno-danger @thehollowwriter @distant-velleity @the-trinket-witch @scint1llat3

@beneathsakurashade @qsoap @twsted-canvas @prince-kallisto @kathxrat-01

@sillyslipperybananapeel @jadelover69 @tixdixl @twstinginthewind

[xaiquyn]

I'm bored, so answering all of them in one right here.

who is/are your comfort character(s)?

The entire cast of the Moomins (but especially Snufkin and Joxter)

lighter or matches?

Matches. I like the smell of them and I weirdly struggle with using a lighter.

do you leave the window open at night?

In summer when it's hot, yes. When it's cold? No.

which cryptyd being do you believe in?

I genuinely believe that ghosts could exist. Not saying they do exist, saying the could.

what color are your eyes?

Blue/green. It's hard to tell and seemingly changes with the lighting.

why did you do that?

What?

hair-ties or scrunchies?

Scrunchies are fun. :)

how many water bottles are in your room right now?

Five. All open, two empty.

which do you prefer, hot coffee or cold coffee?

Don't drink coffee. :/

would you slaughter the rich?

Yes. Let me maul the corpses of the rich.

favorite extracurricular activity?

Art of all sorts.

what kind of day is it?

In terms of weather? Cold. To the point where I skipped school to avoid frostbite. In terms of my mood? Weirdly contented. I feel properly at peace for the first time in a while.

when was the last time you ate?

'Bout five hours ago. (It's 20:00 rn)

do you love the smell of earth after it rains?

ABSOLUTELY. One of, if not, my favourite smells. I love it with all my heart and I apparently taught my parents the word for that smell. (petrichor)

are you a parent? (all answers qualify)

No.

can you drive?

Nope.

are you farsighted or nearsighted?

Genuinely don't know. Never cared to figure out what either of those would really entail.

what hair products do you use?

Like I pay attention to that.

imagine we’re at a sleepover, would you paint my nails?

No. Nail polish is the most vile smell on this horrid Earth filled with horrid smells.

do you say soda or pop?

Depends on which one whoever I'm speaking with says.

something you’ve kept since childhood?

This old plush I've had since I was a baby.

what type of person are you?

Introvert?

how do you feel about chilly weather?

Love it! That's my kind of weather. Even better is when there's a fog covering everything to the point of barely being visible. I like to go out into the woods near my house and pretend I'm a cryptid.

if we were together on a rooftop, what would we be doing?

Stargazing.

perfume/body spray or lotion?

No?

a scenario that you’ve replayed multiple times?

Having a girlfriend/boyfriend. Had to replay that one alot to figure out I'm aroace..

about how many hours of sleep did you get?

Last night? 'Bout four.

do you wear a mask?

Nope.

how do you like your shower water?

Lukewarm at the hottest. Cold if I'm in the mood for it.

is there dishes in your room?

Yep. There's a bowl I forgot about earlier today.

what type of music keeps you grounded?

Folksy-type music. Especially the type I get wanderlust from.

do you have a favorite towel?

No? Do some people?

the last adventure you’ve been on?

Christmas. I had a bit of a breakdown when it was like 19:00 or smth, the day was a bit overwhelming. And my dad noticed, and for the next two hours we drove around the town.

is there a song you know every word to by heart?

A lot! To name a few: Flight of the Crows by Jhariah, Suffering by Amélie Farren, Shut Eye by Stealing Sheep, and Constellations by The Oh Hellos to name a few.

what’s your timezone?

GMT-5 (I think)

how many times have you changed your url?

Once

someone in your life, other than a relative, you’ve known for 10+ years?

Nobody.

a soap bar that smells good?

You think I pay attention to that? When showering, I'm not even mildly present. I am fully dissociating.

do you use lip balm?

Nope.

did you have any snacks today?

Most of the food I had today was snack, minus bacon.

how do you take your coffee?

I don't drink coffee.

an app you frequently use besides this godforsaken site?

Ao3.

what’s your take on spicy foods?

Love 'em.

you get a free pass to kill anyone, who is it?

My mother.

can you remember what happened yesterday?

Not much of it.

favorite holiday film?

Don't really watch Holiday films.

what was the last message you sent?

Me confirming to my overbearing mother that I was still alive at school on Monday.

when did you first try an alcohol beverage?

Still underage.

can you skip rocks?

Yep.

can i tag you in random stuff?

PLEASE. I LOVE TO BE INCLUDED IN ANYTHING.

here’s weirder asks

who is/are your comfort character(s)?

lighter or matches?

do you leave the window open at night?

which cryptyd being do you believe in?

what color are your eyes?

why did you do that?

hair-ties or scrunchies?

how many water bottles are in your room right now?

which do you prefer, hot coffee or cold coffee?

would you slaughter the rich?

favorite extracurricular activity?

what kind of day is it?

when was the last time you ate?

do you love the smell of earth after it rains?

are you a parent? (all answers qualify)

can you drive?

are you farsighted or nearsighted?

what hair products do you use?

imagine we’re at a sleepover, would you paint my nails?

do you say soda or pop?

something you’ve kept since childhood?

what type of person are you?

how do you feel about chilly weather?

if we were together on a rooftop, what would we be doing?

perfume/body spray or lotion?

a scenario that you’ve replayed multiple times?

about how many hours of sleep did you get?

do you wear a mask?

how do you like your shower water?

is there dishes in your room?

what type of music keeps you grounded?

do you have a favorite towel?

the last adventure you’ve been on?

is there a song you know every word to by heart?

what’s your timezone?

how many times have you changed your url?

someone in your life, other than a relative, you’ve known for 10+ years?

a soap bar that smells good?

do you use lip balm?

did you have any snacks today?

how do you take your coffee?

an app you frequently use besides this godforsaken site?

what’s your take on spicy foods?

you get a free pass to kill anyone, who is it?

can you remember what happened yesterday?

favorite holiday film?

what was the last message you sent?

when did you first try an alcohol beverage?

can you skip rocks?

can i tag you in random stuff?

[kirammanswifey]

wedding planning struggles with arcane characters x fem reader

characters: viktor, jinx, vi, caitlyn, jayce, ekko, silco, mel and sevika.

writer's note: did i told you guys that i love this dynamic? because i do, i reaaally do, it's just so comforting describing this kind of mundane and simple problems. i'll exploit this dynamic much more, exciting scenarios are coming. as you already know request are open ;)

marriage proposal link:

Viktor

The excitement of planning your wedding with Viktor fills you with energy. From choosing the flowers to the menu, every detail matters. You've spent hours discussing colors, flavors, and sensations, but lately, you feel like Viktor isn’t sharing your enthusiasm. Today is one of those days when, sitting next to him in the lab, you try to capture his attention.

"Viktor, what do you think about the tablecloths? Do you think we should go with an ivory tone or something more vibrant, like a sky blue?" you ask, flipping through fabric samples.

He barely glances up from his project. "Whatever you prefer, darling."

You sigh and move on to the next question. "And the menu? We have options between a fish dish or meat. Which one do you think the guests will like more?"

"Whatever you decide will be fine," he responds with little interest, his eyes still focused on his work.

Frustrated, you decide to test him. "What do you think about the paper napkins? I was thinking of choosing ones with a floral pink print. Do you like the idea?"

Without looking up, he murmurs, "Yeah, sounds good."

Your patience runs thin. "Viktor! Paper napkins are for picnics, not for our wedding!"

He finally stops, looks at you, clearly confused. "Sorry, I wasn’t paying attention. I was focused on this experiment."

"Exactly, Viktor. You’re always focused on something else. You don’t care about the wedding, do you? No matter what I ask, you always say that whatever I prefer is fine. Does this marriage even matter to you?" The words come out with more force than you intended, but your frustration takes over.

Viktor puts down his tools and turns to face you. "That’s not true. Of course it matters. But you’re better at these things. I trust you to make the right choices."

"It’s not just about making the right choices," you reply, your voice shaking. "I want you to be involved, to do this with me. I don’t want to do it alone."

Viktor rubs his forehead, clearly searching for the right words. "I’ve been involved. I suggested we have the wedding in the Undercity, in the old market where I used to spend my childhood. I wanted that place to have meaning for us. But you refused, you said it was dangerous."

You sit in silence for a moment, processing what he said. "I did it because I want our guests to be safe. Not because I don’t care about what that place means to you."

"I understand, but that was my way of participating, and I felt rejected," he says, his voice low but full of emotion.

Your frustration turns into sadness, and you can't stop the tears from filling your eyes. "Viktor, this is important to me. I just wanted you to feel as excited as I do."

Seeing your tears, Viktor quickly approaches and takes your hands in his. "I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you feel like I don’t care. This marriage means the world to me, just as much as it does to you. If I’ve been distant, it’s just because I sometimes get lost in my work. But I promise to be more present."

You embrace him, feeling the warmth and sincerity of his words. "That’s all I wanted to hear."

He gently strokes your hair, whispering, "We’ll do this together. From now on, I’ll be your partner in all of this, not just in the big things, but in every little detail."

You smile through the tears, feeling the weight of the tension lift. "Thank you, Viktor. I love you."

"And I love you," he replies, his voice filled with tenderness. "I always will."

You both remain in each other's arms, knowing you've found mutual understanding, strengthening your bond and the excitement for the day that is to come.

Jinx

Planning a wedding with Jinx is, to say the least, a roller coaster. You're sitting in your small living room, surrounded by catalogs, fabric samples, and endless task lists. Jinx is on the floor, playing with a knife and tossing it in the air, seemingly uninterested in the process.

"Jinx, can you focus for a second? We need to decide on the wedding theme," you say, trying to get her attention.

She shoots you a quick look, a mischievous smile on her face. "I already told you, we're having a wedding with explosions and fireworks. What else do we need?"

You sigh, trying to stay calm. "Yes, but we need more details. What colors do we want to use? What style of decoration?"

"Colors... hmm," Jinx leans back, holding the knife above her head. "I like blue, you know, like my hair. And pink, because it's fun. How about those?"

"Blue and pink, fine," you say, jotting it down in your notebook. "And about the food? We need to decide on the menu."

Jinx rolls her eyes, clearly bored. "Food? Whatever, something that'll keep them energized to dance all night."

You stop and look at her intently. "Jinx, are you really interested in this? Because I feel like you're not taking any of it seriously."

She sits up quickly, her smile fading a bit. "Of course, I'm interested. It's just... all this planning stuff isn’t really my thing. I like spontaneous things, you know?"

"But this is important to me," you say softly but firmly. "I want it to be special for you too."

Jinx goes silent for a moment, her gaze softening. "Sorry, I didn’t mean for you to think I don’t care. I just have a hard time sitting still and thinking about things so... organized."

You move closer to her, taking her hands. "I know, and I understand. But I want this day to be perfect for both of us. I need your help to make it happen."

She looks at you, her blue eyes shining with sincerity. "Alright, toots. I’ll do it. You just have to guide me a little, okay? I’m not great at this, but if it’s important to you, I’ll do it."

You smile and hug her, feeling her vibrant energy now more focused on you. "Thank you, sweets. It means a lot."

"We’re gonna make this wedding explosive, in a good way," she says, grinning again with that unmistakable spark. "And I promise I won’t blow anything up. At least not too much."

You both laugh, feeling like the planning now has a unique touch, with Jinx’s essence but also with the care and love you share.

Vi

The excitement for the wedding has you glowing. You've spent the whole day talking to your parents about the plans, thrilled about every luxury they can include thanks to their generosity. When you walk into the apartment you share with Vi, you're euphoric, eager to tell her every detail.

"Vi, you have no idea what we're going to have at the wedding!" you exclaimed, dropping your purse on the couch and walking over to her. "My parents are handling everything. We’re going to have imported flowers, a special performance from Seraphine, and even a chocolate fountain. It’s going to be amazing!"

Vi, who was sitting on the edge of the bed sharpening her fighting gloves, looked up. "And what else? Are they bringing unicorns too?" Her tone was clearly sarcastic.

You stopped, surprised by her reaction. "What do you mean by that?" you asked, crossing your arms.

She shrugged, setting the glove aside. "Nothing, just that it seems like your parents are turning this wedding into more of a show than a celebration."

"That’s not fair, Vi," you said, feeling defensive. "They just want the best for us."

Vi sighed, running a hand through her short hair. "Sure, the best for their perfect daughter, who’s lucky enough to get to marry someone like me."

The comment hit you harder than you expected. "What are you implying? That my parents are doing this just out of obligation? Vi, they support us, and I... I’m happy they’re helping. I don’t understand why you have to be like this."

"Why do I have to be like this?" Vi stood up, her voice rising slightly. "Because this isn’t what I imagined. I didn’t want us to have to depend on them for everything. I wanted to give you a wedding I could afford, something that came from me, not from them."

Vi’s words took you by surprise. You felt like the conversation was going in a different direction than you had expected. "Vi, my parents just want to help."

She shook her head, taking a step toward the window. "You don’t understand. It’s my pride, deer. It hurts that I can’t give you what you deserve. Every time you talk about the things they’re paying for, it reminds me of how little I have to offer you."

You walked over to her, taking her hand and forcing her to look at you. "Vi, you’ve given me more than any luxury or extravagance ever could. You’ve given me your love, your support, your strength. I don’t care who’s paying for the wedding, because the only thing that matters to me is that you’ll be by my side."

Vi’s eyes softened, her expression shifting from frustration to something gentler. "I’m sorry," she murmured. "I just... feel so useless sometimes, seeing them do everything."

"Vi, you’re not useless," you said firmly, caressing her cheek. "You are everything I’ve ever wanted. This day will be ours, no matter who’s paying for it, because the most valuable thing to me is marrying you."

She leaned in, her lips brushing yours in a soft, emotional kiss. "Thank you for understanding," she whispered against your lips. "I promise I’ll do everything I can to make this day special, even if I can’t pay for it with money."

"It’s already special because it’s with you," you replied, hugging her tightly. "I love you, Vi."

"And I love you, more than words can say," she said, holding you as if she never wanted to let go.

You both stayed there, embraced, letting the tension fade, knowing that, no matter the problems, together you could overcome anything.

Caitlyn

The room was adorned with a golden glow, the walls decorated with elegant tapestries, and the wedding plans scattered across the table, along with details and proposals. You were excited, visualizing what your wedding day would be like, but you couldn’t help but notice that Caitlyn seemed quieter than usual. Her gaze seemed fixed on the corner of the room.

"Cait? What do you think of these centerpieces?" you asked with a smile, wanting to share the excitement of the planning. "We could choose lavender flowers, something simple but elegant, right?"

Caitlyn didn’t respond immediately. Her fingers played with the edge of her glass, but her mind seemed to be elsewhere. Finally, she looked up at you with a forced smile, which didn’t quite hide the worry in her eyes.

"It sounds good, although... I'm not sure my parents would agree with something so... simple," she said with a tone you couldn't ignore.

A knot formed in your stomach. You knew Caitlyn came from an aristocratic family, with many traditions that were expected to be upheld, but you never imagined that external pressure could interfere so much with something so important to both of you.

"What do you mean by that?" you asked, already sensing the growing tension in the conversation.

Caitlyn took a deep breath, standing up and walking toward the window as if she needed space to organize her thoughts. "My family... expects us to have a wedding that represents our status, something worthy of tradition. I don’t know if they would accept the venue being decorated with lavender flowers..." her voice lowered as she continued speaking. "They want everything to be big and glamorous, with high-profile guests. They think a simple wedding, even if it’s on our own, doesn’t reflect what’s expected of us."

Your heart raced. You knew Caitlyn’s parents weren’t exactly easy to please, but you never imagined their expectations would overshadow what you both wanted for this day.

"But... Cait," you began, trying to understand, "isn’t this our wedding? Why do we have to do it the way they want? I don’t want a celebration that doesn’t feel like ours. I want it to be something of ours, not just a display of status."

Caitlyn turned toward you, her face now more serious. "I know! I know, and I agree with you. But I can’t disrespect them, not without consequences. They... pressure me in ways you don’t understand. If we don’t meet their expectations, it would look like a failure for our family."

The tone of her voice grew more desperate, more exhausted. You knew she didn’t want to give in, but you also understood the internal battle she was trapped in, between the love she felt for you and her loyalty to her family.

"So, you want our wedding to be some kind of act to impress your parents, instead of what we really want?" Your voice cracked as you asked, feeling the dream you had for that day crumbling.

Caitlyn quickly walked over to you, taking your hands firmly, her gaze filled with regret. "It’s not that. I don’t want that. It’s just... I can’t stop feeling the pressure my parents put on me. They have so much power, and I don’t want to hurt them in a way that will cause us more problems."

The pain in her eyes broke your heart. You knew what that meant to her, the conflict between the love she had for her family and her desire to do things her way.

"I love you, Cait. And I want this wedding to be ours, not a show for them," you said, trying to calm the storm that was brewing in the air. "Cait, I know you’re strong, and I know we can face all of this together. It’s just not fair."

A tear fell from her left eye, something you had never seen before. Caitlyn, so strong and determined, now seemed vulnerable, lost amidst her own expectations and those of others.

"I’m sorry," she whispered. "I just want you to be happy. I don’t want you to think I’m not considering you. I’m just so trapped in this... and I’m scared that everything will end up being what they want, not what we want."

In that moment, you knew it was time to set aside the anger and hold her. She was having a hard time, caught in a difficult situation, struggling to find a way to satisfy both your desires and her parents’ expectations.

"We can do this, Cait," you whispered, your arms gently caressing her delicate back, and she leaned into you, resting on the person she loved and needed most at that moment. "If we support each other, we’ll find a way. The wedding will be everything we dreamed of, and what your parents expect, but always within what really matters to us. It doesn’t have to be a sacrifice if we do it together."

Caitlyn looked at you for a long moment, as if evaluating your words, evaluating your feelings. Then, with a soft smile, she cupped your chin and kissed you. "I promise I’ll do it. We’ll do it together, like always."

The tension that had filled the room disappeared, and all that remained was mutual understanding and the certainty that, no matter how many difficulties there were, they were willing to face them together. And that was the only thing that mattered.

Jayce

The flowers, the music, the menu... everything seemed to be taking shape, but there was something in the air, a growing sense of discomfort that you couldn’t ignore.

"Jayce, do you really think we need to invite all those people?" you said, the fatigue and frustration beginning to seep into your voice. "Your guest list... it's huge!"

Jayce, who until that moment had been reviewing the papers with enthusiasm you couldn’t share, looked up at you, smiling with a mix of confidence and energy. "It’s Piltover, darling! We need to make this wedding a big deal, something everyone will remember. We have to invite the most influential figures, the city leaders, the people who really matter."

Your breath quickened. You knew Jayce was a man of great ambition and vision, but at that moment, you couldn’t help but feel dismissed by his words. As if all that mattered to him was image and status, and not the fact that this day was so much more personal for both of you.

"I don’t understand, Jayce," you said, trying to keep calm, but your tone came out firmer than you’d expected. "Why is it so important who’s there? Why can’t we do something more intimate, with the people closest to us, with the ones who really matter?"

Jayce frowned, dropping the papers on the table and approaching you with an intensity that made you feel vulnerable. "Are you saying you don’t want to make this a big event? That you don’t want all of Piltover to know what our union means?"

"No, I’m not saying that," you replied, your voice trembling with the accumulated frustration. "What I want is for this day to be something we remember, not what Piltover thinks of us. I want a wedding with meaning, with the people who truly matter to us, not a party to impress others."

Jayce crossed his arms, his jaw tense. You could see his mind starting to process your words, but you could also tell there was something inside him that refused to give in. "This is important! This isn’t just a party, it’s a statement. We’re talking about our future, our position in this city. Everything we do, everything, reflects who we are."

A wave of anger took over you. Each word from Jayce felt like it dug deeper, as if he was ignoring your own wishes, your own feelings. "You’re obsessed with appearances, Jayce! Everything always has to be big, flashy, as if only that has value! I... I just want a day that feels real, something that’s ours, something that reflects who we are as a couple, not a damn parade of names and titles."

The air immediately grew tense, and Jayce’s gaze darkened. "You know what? I don’t understand why you’re so upset. This is an opportunity to show everyone what we’ve achieved, to show them we matter, that we’re not just... I don’t know, residents of Piltover. Doesn’t it matter to you that this day is on par with what we’ve built?"

You stood in silence for a moment, the anger mixed with pain. There was something in Jayce that you didn’t want to lose sight of, something you wanted him to understand. "It’s not about that, Jayce," you said, now calmer but still hurt. "It’s about me wanting you, about this day being for us. I don’t want every decision we make to be based on what others think or what’s expected of us. I want this to be our day, with the people we love, not all those... important people."

A sigh escaped his lips, and for a moment, it seemed like he finally understood. But then, his voice grew softer, but still full of frustration. "I’m not asking you to forget what you want. I just want you to recognize that this is bigger than us, that what we’re doing doesn’t just involve us, but an entire city. What we build here can be remembered, and I want everyone to see it."

The conflict grew bigger in your chest, as if you were caught in a tug of war between what you both wanted. Finally, unable to take it anymore, you said, your eyes full of tears from the intensity of the moment: "I don’t want to stay with someone who only thinks about that. I don’t want this day to be just a showcase. I want it to be something more, something... real."

Jayce looked at you, and for a moment, he thought everything was lost. But then, something in his eyes changed. He came closer, took your hands with a delicacy you hadn’t expected, and in his voice, now softer, whispered: "I’m sorry... I didn’t think about how you’d feel. I... I just want what’s best for us, for you. And I want it to be perfect, I promise. But... I know we also need something that we want, something that makes us feel complete, not just everyone else."

Seeing the sincerity in his eyes allowed you to relax a little. His frustration was still there, but now he seemed willing to find the balance you both were seeking. "We’ll do it our way," he said with a sigh. "I don’t want to get lost in all of this. I want it to be your wedding as much as mine."

Then, with a slight smile, you hugged him. You didn’t know how the day would be, but you knew you’d face it with Jayce by your side, because what truly mattered was what you both wanted, together.

Ekko

The wedding had stopped being just a dream. All the preparations were becoming more real, but as you moved forward, you realized that Ekko's vision of the event was not at all what you had imagined.

One day, after arguing with the organizers about the floral arrangements, you came home to find Ekko looking at some drawings he had on the table, extravagant sketches with half-written ideas. It seemed like he was researching something, but as soon as you walked in, his expression changed.

"What's wrong?" you asked, noticing the slight tension in his face.

Ekko looked at you with a knowing smile, but he didn't seem as enthusiastic. "I was thinking about how to make our wedding something truly unique... I don't want to follow all those boring standards."

You walked over, confused but curious. "Boring standards?"

"Yeah, why do we have to do something like everyone else? Why not have the wedding in an abandoned place in Zaun, where everything started for us? An art show and an improvised banquet for those in needs instead of... this?" he said, pointing to the guest list and the more traditional ideas you had considered.

Ekko's proposal left you in shock. He was serious. A wedding in the Undercity? Full of improvisation? At that moment, an uncomfortable feeling began to grow in your chest. "What? Ekko, are you joking? What's so special about that? It's dangerous, and it's not what I want for us!" You spoke with awareness, since both of you had been born and lived in the Undercity, and you knew better than anyone that it would be quite risky to celebrate the wedding there—interruptions were the least of your concerns.

Ekko looked at you with a mix of surprise and frustration. "I thought you were like me. Why do you like all these... conventional things so suddenly? These ordinary weddings that mean nothing. Didn't you want something authentic, something that truly reflects who we are?"

Ekko's words hit deep, and for a moment, you felt hurt. What did he mean by saying traditional weddings meant nothing? Did he think your dreams and wishes for that day were worthless?

"Ekko..." Your voice trembled a little as you approached him. "Does our wedding mean nothing to you? Is all of this just... a waste of time?"

The silence between you two stretched, and his eyes softened. He slowly approached, taking your hands gently. "No, babe, it's not that. I don't want you to think I don't care. It's just that... I want it to be unique. I want our day to reflect us, our story, who we are. And who we are doesn't fit society's rules."

You sat down, letting Ekko's words sink deeper. It was true, he'd always been someone who fought against the established. Someone who dared to dream the impossible, to challenge what others expected of him. But did that really mean that the wedding you had dreamed of would be lost?

"I just want... I want it to be something beautiful," you said with a sigh. "Something I can always remember as the most beautiful day of our lives. I don't want to do anything weird or strange."

Ekko then smiled, getting closer to you, with a light of understanding in his eyes. "It will be," he said with conviction, "but we'll do it our way. We're not going to follow the standards. I know you don't want that. I don't either."

For a moment, the weight of the situation began to lift, and everything felt much clearer. It was true. You had been so focused on making everything perfect, so eager for the wedding to match what had been your dream, that you'd forgotten something fundamental: you weren't like that.

Finally, you opened up, feeling vulnerable but relieved. "It's just... I just wanted to feel like a normal girl with a normal wedding. I don't know... like the ones I see in the Upper City, with everything so polished, so... perfect. I just want to feel like I belong. Like I'm not different."

Ekko looked at you silently for a moment, and his hands gently squeezed yours. "You're more than that," he said, his voice soft but sure. "You don't have to fit into anything or anyone. What we have, who we are... is unique. And that's what I want our wedding to reflect."

Your breath calmed, and finally, a genuine smile appeared on your face. "Then... let's do it. Our way. A unique day, without following rules."

Ekko hugged you, letting the warmth of his body calm you. "I promise," he whispered in your ear. "We'll make it unique. We'll make it better, but our way."

You both stayed there, surrounded by the warm silence that only the two of you shared, knowing that, even though the road to the wedding wouldn't be conventional, the important thing was that you'd do it together, and that would make it special.

Silco

Silco was standing by the window, looking out at the city from his office high up in the building, where the bustle of the Undercity felt distant but always present. Despite the imposing view, something in his gaze betrayed a void, an internal worry that he couldn’t shake off, even with the love he felt for you. The wedding was drawing closer, and while he knew he wanted a future with you, there were parts of his history, his past, that haunted him, and those shadows didn’t disappear easily.

You were on the other side of the office, going over some details for the ceremony. The environment you were in was bright and luxurious, but for some reason, you couldn’t shake the feeling that everything you were about to experience didn’t quite belong to you. You couldn’t stop thinking about how Silco had pulled you out of the brothel, a life you had left behind but which always silently haunted you. You weren’t sure if you’d ever be able to fully free yourself from that past.

“I don’t know if I deserve this…” you murmured, without thinking too much, looking at a list of flowers for the wedding.

Silco lifted his gaze, the cold serenity of his face mixing with something darker, something that seemed like an internal struggle he was trying not to let you see. He walked toward you, the sound of his footsteps echoing in the room.

“What are you talking about?” he asked, his voice deep but calm, though this time there seemed to be a hint of concern beneath it.

You sighed, not wanting to talk about it, but the sadness overwhelmed you. “I can’t stop thinking about what people will say… They’ll look at me and think, ‘that’s the girl who worked in the brothel.’ They’ll never take me seriously. I don’t feel like I deserve something as… beautiful as this.”

A heavy silence fell between the two of you. Silco stared at you, his eyes as intense and calculating as always, but this time there was something different in them, something closer to concern. He approached you, stopping right in front of you but not touching you yet. He looked at your face, your eyes full of uncertainty, and his lips tightened as if his own demons were struggling to surface.

“You know what bothers me the most?” he said finally. “That you keep thinking you don’t deserve this. That you keep looking at the past as if it’s the only thing that defines you. Those people have no idea what you’re capable of. And you… you’re so much more than any shitty place you’ve come from.”

Your eyes filled with tears that you couldn’t stop from spilling. The emotion swelled within you like a wave. “But… what about my parents? I don’t know anything about them. They sold me like I was merchandise. I have no idea if they’re alive or dead, if they care about me. I never knew if they really loved me…” The anguish spilled out in words, and the tension in your chest increased, as if the gravity of the moment were crushing you.

Silco looked at you with a mix of rage and frustration, as if all that pain were a threat to the fortress he had built around himself. But it wasn’t anger that dominated his voice when he spoke.

“You don’t have to carry that guilt or that damn shame. You don’t have to see all that past as a burden that keeps you from walking toward the future. I pulled you out of that shit, and no one, no one, has the right to judge what we are or what we’ve been. Because what I’ve built for you, and what you’ve done, isn’t measured by what others think. The only thing that matters is what I see when I look into your eyes… and when I look at you, I see a woman who makes me want to break the damn world apart to give you what you deserve.”

Silco’s tone was direct, filled with something he couldn’t express with simple words, something deeper. With a firm hand but an unusual gentleness for him, he touched your face, lifting your chin so you would look at him.

“I don’t care what people think. And I don’t care what you’ve been or what you’ve done. The only thing that matters is what we are now. Us. I don’t want this wedding to be just a formality. I want it to reflect everything. And if you’re by my side, then that everything makes sense.”

Despite the confusion in your heart, part of you began to calm down, at least a little. Silco would never lie to you, not in his coldest gestures nor his warmest ones. His words weren’t just empty promises; they were the words of someone who had fought as much as you had, albeit in a different way, to find his place in the world.

“So you really think I deserve this?” you asked, your voice trembling with emotion.

“You deserve everything.” He answered without hesitation. “And I won’t let any shadow from your past cloud what we’ve achieved. If there’s one thing I’ve learned through all this time, it’s that you and I have the right to create whatever we want. What we’ve done or been before doesn’t matter now.”

You stepped toward him, resting your forehead against his chest, the weight of your insecurities beginning to dissolve by the firmness of his support. “I don’t know if I’m ready for all of this… but being with you makes me feel like maybe, just maybe, I deserve something better too.”

“You always have.” He whispered, wrapping you in a firm embrace. “And if you ever forget that, I’ll be here to remind you.”

And in that embrace, the security Silco offered was more than enough to extinguish the doubts that still burned inside you. It didn’t matter where you came from, or what you had suffered. What mattered was the future you both would build together.

Mel

There was something in the air, a subtle tension that you couldn’t help but feel as you sat at the wedding planning table. Mel was completely absorbed in the details, as if everything had to be perfect and according to her vision. She had told you about the decoration, the guest list, and even the type of outfits she thought you both should wear, but something didn’t add up. Mel was making decisions without consulting you, assuming her preferences were the only ones that mattered.

“I’ve decided it will be in an indoor venue, with all sorts of baroque decorations, and I’ve hired the most prestigious orchestra in Piltover. We want to make our position known, right?” Mel was so confident, looking at the papers and giving a satisfied smile while she handled everything, not letting you intervene.

“What about what I want?” you asked, feeling a mix of frustration and discomfort building up in your chest. “Don’t you want this to be our wedding, not just yours?”

Mel looked up, surprised by your tone, but quickly recovered, giving a small smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Of course. But… it’s not that complicated, don’t you think? I’ve always been the one to take the reins in this, I always get it right, everything perfectly.”

Your heart began to race. “Mel, you’re not letting me participate. It’s not just your wedding. This is about us, about what we want to share, not about what you think it should be.”

Mel furrowed her brow. “You know, right? Our wedding has to be something that stands out, something that tells the world who we are. I’m not trying to do it alone, it’s just… I’ve always known what’s best.”

“That’s exactly what bothers me!” your words came out forcefully. “You always think you know what’s best, but what about what I want? You’re always planning everything without asking me, always making decisions like everything has to revolve around you.”

The tension was palpable. Mel crossed her arms, her expression hardening. “And what do you know? Do you think I’m not trying to do what’s best for us?” Her voice was sharper now, as if each word was filled with contained frustration. “What about you? Don’t you realize nothing is ever enough for you? You always want something more, something different... Don’t you get tired of living within your own limits?”

What she said stung, like a sharp jab to your chest. “I’m not looking for a spectacle, Mel. What I want is a wedding that reflects what we share, not what the world expects to see.” You felt the emotion take over. “You’re suffocating me with your expectations, with your perfection, Mel. Sometimes, I feel like your need for everything to be perfect is taking away from what truly matters. Perfection isn’t what I want from you, what I want is for us to be together, real.”

Mel stood still, looking down, her face showing a discomfort she didn’t often show. For a moment, she seemed to hesitate. “It’s not that... It’s just that... I don’t know how to do things any other way.” Her voice was softer now, but there was still a layer of tension. “My life has always been about controlling things, doing them the way I want. It’s the only thing I know how to do well. And... I don’t want our wedding to be like any other. I don’t want people to look at us and think we’re ordinary.”

Your eyes softened, and you moved closer to her, taking her hands. “You don’t have to be perfect, Mel. I don’t care if it’s not the most luxurious wedding, or if everything is under control. What matters to me is you, and how we feel together. I don’t want you to drown in your own expectations.”

Mel sighed, the sound of her emotional weariness filling the air. “Sometimes, I feel like... I’m not enough.” Her gaze drifted, as if afraid her words might reveal something she didn’t want to show. “It’s easier to control everything than to accept that things might go wrong. Sometimes, perfection is the only thing I have.”

“You don’t need to be perfect for me, I’ve told you that,” you said softly, caressing her cheek gently. “You just need to be you. And that’s the best part of all of this, Mel. I want you, with all your imperfections, and that’s what I want our wedding to reflect.”

Mel took a deep breath, and a small smile appeared on her face. “I guess I owe you that. This wedding... might be simpler than I thought, but what matters is that it’s ours. Does that sound good?”

The tension immediately dissipated, and the atmosphere between you two softened. She moved closer, and finally, her hands intertwined with yours in a genuine embrace. “Thank you,” Mel said, her voice softer than before, vulnerable and real. “I promise we’ll do it the way you want. It will be our wedding, our way.”

“Thank you,” you replied, hugging her tighter. “All I need from you is for you to be you. And that’s the most perfect thing we can do.”

Both of you smiled, understanding that even though you had differences, the strength of what you shared was far more important than anything else. In the end, what mattered was your mutual commitment, not control, not perfection, but the love you had promised each other.

Sevika

The idea of planning the wedding seemed, in theory, fun and exciting. But in practice, it was an absolute mess. Both of you were trying to organize everything, but Sevika and you weren’t exactly the most organized. There were papers all over the table, piles of disorganized notes, and plans that didn’t match what you both wanted.

"This is a nightmare," Sevika muttered as she picked up a crumpled piece of paper from the floor. "How are we supposed to organize this if we can't even agree on a venue?"

You sat down in the chair, watching the disaster around you. "I know," you sighed, running your hands through your hair. "I wanted it to be simple, but it seems like I can't even do that right."

Sevika let out a bitter laugh, a sound you knew all too well. "Simple? Everything here is a disaster, and we're up to our necks in nonsense. I don't know if I'm the worst at this or if it’s just that this isn’t what I imagined."

Both of you were overwhelmed, and the tension was building. The lack of organization and control wasn’t just reflecting the physical chaos, but also the underlying anxieties of both of you.

"I told you, Sevika, this doesn’t make sense! We’re not getting anything right, and I feel like we’re already ruining everything." Your voice rose with frustration because you not only felt the wedding was out of control, but that this lack of success in the small details was affecting you more than you wanted to admit.

Sevika looked at you intently, frustration clear in her eyes. "And what did you expect? We're not people who do everything perfectly. We’re used to improvising, surviving, doing things our way." Her tone hardened, as if she was trying to justify what had happened. "I don’t know why you thought this would be different."

"Because it’s our wedding, Sevika! It’s not the same as always!" You were about to lose your temper. "I’m tired of you solving everything with ‘we’ll improvise’. This is important to me, and it matters a lot, do you understand?"

Sevika stepped closer, her taller frame and steady gaze making it clear this discussion had escalated too far. "I know, I know… but what I’m telling you is I don’t want it to be a traditional 'under control' wedding. Enough with the outside pressures." Her voice was softer but no less intense. "You know what scares me the most? That I don’t know if I’m capable of doing this right, that everything I plan won’t be enough for you. Because I know I’m not perfect. I’ve always been a warrior, not a princess who wants to sit at a fancy table."

A sharp pain pierced you as you heard her words. It wasn’t just about the wedding. There was something deeper in her tone. "It’s not about that, babe," you said, frustration transforming into a softness that took over you. "I just want it to be our moment. But it seems like we can’t even agree on the smallest thing."

Silence filled the room for a moment. Sevika, with her gaze fixed on the floor, seemed to be thinking. Finally, she stepped closer and, unexpectedly, placed her hand over yours.

"I’m sorry," she said, her voice softer, full of sincerity. "I didn’t want this to affect you so much. What’s going on is… I’m scared, you know? All of this is new to me. I’m not used to planning something so… so personal, and that scares me."

You were taken aback by her vulnerability. "I understand you’re scared, I’m scared too. But do you know what makes me lose that fear? Remembering that I’ll be with you, that we’re making the ultimate promise to share our lives together," you said, feeling the intensity of the connection between you both. "What matters is that, even if everything feels like a disaster, we’ll be together."

She smiled almost imperceptibly, with a mix of sadness and relief. "Do you really think I can’t do it right?"

"No, it’s not that," you replied, gently touching her face. "What I mean is, it doesn’t matter if everything is a disaster, as long as it’s our disaster."

A sigh escaped Sevika. "You’re right."

Both of you remained silent for a moment, understanding that perfection wasn’t what mattered. What mattered was what you shared, and that was more than enough for either of you.

Sevika, now calmer, hugged you softly. "We’ll do it right, doll. I promise."

You smiled, relieved. "Yeah, I know."

And, even though the wedding was still a mess, the only thing that mattered was that it was your mess. Your love was the only thing you needed to make everything make sense.

[witherby]

hello! great work so far :-) im getting into batfam myself and been loving the platonic/familial works you do w littlest wayne! was wondering if you'd ever do an teen y/n or just an older one? I'd love to see you tackle the idea of a robin y/n or jaybe just some angsty kid stuff,,,,,, hope you had a good new years!

-- :33Anon

I love angst with my whole heart and soul, and I'm happy to write it with a slightly older Reader. Hope you don't mind I've commandeered your prompt to showcase the ability you guys voted on.

This one's a long read so I'm splitting it up. This part is roughly 2400+ words.

The Littlest Wayne: Uncertain Home

(Part 1/2)

Masterlist is Here!

Uncle J'onn is looking at you curiously.

He's been doing that a lot, lately. When Daddy brings you to the Watchtower to be babysat so he can go save the world, one of his co-workers that they can afford to spare gets put in charge of keeping an eye on you. Usually it's Uncle Hal, but this time it's J'onn and he's in his natural form, which you don't mind. Green is your favorite color, and his whole body is green! He's nice and calm, and tells you lots of stories and plays any game you want, even if it's hard for him not to cheat and read your mind. He says it's instinct. You don't hold it against him because you still have fun.

Lately, though, when he talks to you, he tilts his head a bit. He usually does that when he can't understand something.

You wipe your face, checking for cookie crumbs. All clean. You search your shirt for any weird marks or stains. All clean. You scrunch your nose and puff out your cheeks, pouting.

"What's wrong, uncle J'onny?" You ask him. Daddy says the way to get honest answers from someone is just to be forthcoming (Dicky told you what forthcoming meant when you asked him later), so you are. "Did I do something wrong?"

That seems to snap his train of thought. J'onn shakes his head and goes back to sorting out the jigsaw puzzle pieces for you. You're good enough at this to do 100-piece puzzles, now, and when you get really stuck you don't even cry anymore!

"Nothing is wrong, Flittermouse," he says, watching you start putting the edges together first like Dami taught you. "You are simply...changing. Differences are not inherently wrong."

"What's inherably mean?"

"Inherently. It means instinctively, or something that is "set in stone." A rule that does not change. I am stating that change is not something that is always wrong. It's not a firm rule."

You pout and try to process all of that in your brain. It was a partial answer. Daddy says that means people might want to hide something from you.

"What's changing?" You ask him. "I got older a week ago. Is that what you mean? I'm four, now. Grandpappy says I'm getting so big and growed up. He says to not do that so fast. I dunno how, though. He's silly."

J'onn hums. His eyes look away from you as he considers what to say. You put one whole edge together before he speaks again.

"You know that I am not a human, correct?"

"Yeah, I know," you say. "I don't care. I love you. And auntie Diana. And uncle Clark. And uncle Barry. And —"

"Thank you," J'onn gently interrupts. "Do you also know that, sometimes, humans are born not entirely human? That sometimes they get special abilities?"

"Yeah, I know that," you repeat.

"I suspect that —" he cuts himself off, hesitates, then starts again. "Little one. You are showing signs of being one of those humans with special abilities."

"I am?" You ask. You perk up. "Can I fly?!"

You immediately abandon the puzzle and climb onto your chair, about to jump off of it to try and fly around, but J'onn catches you by the back of your shirt before you can hit the ground.

"You cannot."

"Aww...then I don't wanna be a megahuman," you complain, stomping your foot.

"Metahuman."

"Whatever."

"I am sorry," J'onn says, "I did not mean to upset you. I do think you are developing powers, however."

"Not fly powers?" You frown.

"No, not flight powers."

"Boring," you say, blowing raspberries. J'onn cracks a smile at your antics and you giggle. "Help me do the puzzle, please!"

"Alright," he relents, sorting more pieces for you. You're both quiet for a while, and you get the whole frame done before he speaks again.

"Little one. Do you know your father's rule about metahumans?"

"Yeah," you say, grinning, because you're a great listener. You pitch your voice down and make it scratchy. It's adorable in your four-year-old tone. "No metas in Gotham. I am Nighttime. Raaahhh."

J'onn huffs in amusement. "Right. He usually means what he says, does he not?"

"Yeah," you agree, "daddy is a bad liar. He lied and said he didn't eated the last cookie once, but he did eated it. Alfie was mad, 'cause it was for Dami, but Dami didn't care. He likes brownies more than cookies. I like brownies, too."

"I figured," J'onn says. He's not looking at you again. This time he's frowning.

"Do you want brownies?" You ask, figuring that was the issue. "I don't have any. I can ask for some when Daddy comes back. I'm good at sharing, 'cause I'm a good noodle, like Jay says."

"No, but thank you for offering to share. Jason is right, you are a good noodle."

You preen. "I know!"

J'onn drops the subject again and helps you complete the puzzle. You squint at every piece in concentration and politely ask him if he can dim the lights so you can work better. He complies, and after another hour and a half, you have a completed image on the table.

"Yay! We did it!"

The sounds of chatter and footsteps appear down the hall moments later, and you spring to your feet in delight.

"Hello!!!" You shout.

A chorus of "hello!" greets you in return from multiple heroes, and the rest of the Justice League files into the room one by one. They don't look too roughed up, so the mission wasn't very dangerous. That's good. You stand by the door and offer them hugs. Everyone complies, to your endless delight.

"Daddy!" You cheer when you see him, running and hugging Batman's legs. He scoops you into his arms and you grin and point at the table. "Uncle J'onny and I dided a whole puzzle! I didn't give up!"

"Good job, Mouse," Bruce says, reaching out to adjust the light. "You did it in the dark?"

"Yeah," you grin, kicking your feet. "Did you punch bad guys?"

"I did."

"Did you win?"

"Yes."

"Can we have ice cream?"

"Maybe after dinner." He carries you down the hall and towards his temporary quarters, the place he'll stay after a particularly tough mission when he can't make it home right away, and deposits you gently on the bed. "I have to debrief with everyone, and then we can pack up and go home."

"Okay, daddy," you say, already digging through the nightstand for a toy to play with. "I stay right here!"

"Good job," he says again, kissing the top of your head, and leaves you alone with a small wave.

--

The next time you need to be at the Watchtower, it's with Uncle Clark and Auntie Diana. The mission wasn't a super dangerous one, so they both got to stay behind and entertain you.

Today, you're a cashier at your world-famous grocery store. You have the best ingredients all over the world.

"Welcome to the groshy store, what do you want stranger?" You demand, getting into character. Clark looks mildly offended.

"Whoa, hello. That's a lot of 'tude for a paying customer," he says.

"You didn't buy nothing yet! Whataya want!"

"Uh. Some carrots please."

"All out."

Clark narrows his eyes at you. "Can you check in the back?"

You turn around. You turn back.

"All out. Whataya want!"

"You barely looked!" He insists.

"FRESH OUTTA CARROTS, BUB. WHATAYA WANT."

"Oh my goodness, now there's yelling. I think I need to speak to a manager."

"Okay!" You shuffle across the room and grab Diana's hand, leading her back to Clark. "This is the manager. Auntie, tell him all the carrots are gone. He can't have any."

Diana covers her mouth to stifle her laughter. "You heard them, stranger. There are no carrots here."

"Well, aside from the blatant nepotism, auntie, I think you're hiding the carrots from me," Clark huffs, crossing his arms. "I need them for my soup. Guess I'll go to the grocery store across town. I hear they're nicer."

"No," you gasp, "wait. Okay maybe I have one secret carrot. I go get it."

You leave their giggling forms and run over to the toy box that was set up for you on the watch tower, thrusting your hands inside to dig around. You squint your eyes, but all the bright colors are hard to distinguish properly. In the dark spaces, deeper into the box, is where you cast your focus. Instinctively, you follow the trail and close your hand around a plastic carrot. You lift your hand triumphantly.

"Okay, got it!" You cry, only to startle when you find both Clark and Diana kneeling beside your toy chest. Diana picks you up around the waist and takes several steps back, and Clark's eyes turn that funny shade of blue they do when he's using x-ray vision. "Umm, I gotted the carrot already. It's in my hand."

"Are you injured?" Diana asks you, expression deadly serious. You frown and shake your head. "You're certain? I could sense something in that box with you."

"No, I'm fine," you promise. Clark stands up and his eyes go back to normal. He shrugs, brows furrowed.

"There's nothing in there but toys."

"Yeah," you nod, "toys and dark spots."

Both heroes look at you. You squirm in Diana's hold shyly.

"Um, want to pay for the carrot?" You ask, holding it up. "It's only ten dollars. Orrr one lollipop." You whisper conspiratorially. "I can be bribed."

Diana and Clark exchange glances. Clark gingerly takes the carrot from you and puts it back in the toy box.

"Sold. Let's go to the kitchen and pick out which flavor you want."

You grin, forgetting about the game, and Diana puts you on the ground so you can follow excitedly after them. With a couple "pretty please's" and your lethal puppy dog eyes, you even manage to get two lollipops. You ask to be hoisted onto the counter so you can swing your feet as you enjoy the candy, and both heroes perch on either side of you.

It's quiet for a while. It feels like that weird, anticipatory quiet you felt with Uncle J'onny, but you don't know what for, so you wait for one of them to speak. You finish off one whole sucker and open the second one when it happens.

"Mouse?" Clark eventually asks, "can you explain what you meant about your toys? That there are dark spots in there?"

"Yeah," you say, "shadows. Dark spots. Light not touching."

"And you can...feel shadows?"

You hum, thinking it over. "Um...yes. Kind of."

Clark and Diana look at each other again. They're frowning. You frown.

"Can you tell us what you mean by that?" She asks.

"Um. I wanted the carrot, for uncle Clark," you say, "so he can buy it at my groshy store. And the dark spots showed me where it was, and I grabbed it."

"Did they also help you complete the jigsaw puzzle, when you were with J'onn?" Diana asks. "It was quite dark when we got back." You nod.

"Yeah. Easier to do in the dark. It's not cheating!" You blurt. "I didn't cheated!"

"Okay, ya' didn't cheat," Clark agrees, gently patting your back. There's a slight drawl in his words which usually shows up when he's stressed out. "We're just curious, is all, darlin'. Seems you've got a... A special talent, we can call it."

"It's a power. They're a metahuman, Kal," Diana says simply, "and you know Bruce's rule."

The rule? Which one? Always brushing your teeth before bedtime? Or maybe no sweets until you finish your dinner? Hmm, but you haven't had dinner yet. That doesn't make sense.

"No metas in Gotham. I'm very aware, Diana."

"Then you see the problem."

Oh. Now you think you know why uncle J'onny was upset that day.

"Now wait a minute," Clark says. He looks genuinely angry, which confuses you. Did they not like that you could ask the dark for help? They had superpowers, too. You figured they would be happy. "They're his kid."

You are. You're Daddy's little Flittermouse, scampering around and bringing joy. That's what everyone tells you. They love you.

"You've seen how hard he works to keep us out of Gotham," Diana says. "We can be trusted to babysit, but we can't enter the city? What does that tell you?"

"That's different. He's territorial, we all know that. He's not a monster, Diana. He would never hurt them —"

"I'm not saying he is. I'm not saying he would. But I am saying that he doesn't bend his own rules. He does not make exceptions."

Oh.

You sit almost numbly on the counter and watch Clark and Diana start to argue over your place in Gotham. Over your place at home.

You think about Daddy's rule about no metas in Gotham. You think about your new ability to interact with shadows.

Oh.

The lollipop tastes like ash on your tongue and the tips of your fingers feel like tv static. When you blink, your eyes sting as they well up with tears. You've been so good about not throwing fits, about not being a crybaby, about being as strong as your super cool daddy and brothers and grandpa.

But you can't call them that anymore, can you? They don't want metas in Gotham, and that's what you are, now. You can't live with your family anymore.

Large, fat tears roll down your cheeks and your bottom lip wobbles. You whimper and both Diana and Clark whip their heads around to look at you in shock.

"No, oh no, don't cry," Diana coos, "you don't need to worry. Your father isn't —"

You bat her hands away when she reaches for you and jump off the counter, running underneath Clark's cape. They don't catch on to what you're doing in time.

Clark practically rips it off and fans it on the floor, floating above it with wide eyes. Diana kneels next to the fabric and frantically pats it, searching for you.

But there's nothing. You've fled into the shadow Clark's body cast and allowed the darkness to swallow you.

[01zfan]

sweetheart | l. at

nerd!anton x nerd!reader | 5.1k words

a request i got and it kinda made me go a little insane.

contains: anton pretends to be an insecure little nerd to plot on the reader, fingering, reader is implied to be a virgin

Anton is a sweetheart. He’s non assuming and soft spoken, so quiet that he has to clear his throat each time he speaks. He’s kind, always extending the same tenderness and patience to people he received as a child. He’s one of the few men in his program that the girls didn’t have trouble approaching if they had a question or trouble with an assignment. 

Each time anyone approached him with a question he was helpful, pushing his thick frames up his face before leaning to the paper. With a pencil he’d mark where the mistake was, and explaining it with a gentle voice that had girls leaning in even closer. 

After they got a smell of his cologne and the look of his soft skin everything else was easy. The girls would tilt their heads in curiosity about Anton, intrigued at how someone so shy made it this far in life. How someone was so cute from afar but something more once you got close. All he had to do was avoid their eyes and chew his lip a few times before they were sliding their phones over to him.

Just in case I need help with another assignment.

Anton’s eyes would always widen in shock. Not from the surprise of being pursued but just how easy it all was. The girls never found out that Anton was red in the face from the rush and he ducked his head to hide a smile of satisfaction. They would laugh lightly seeing his reaction, observing what they thought was insecurity. Before going on about their day they’d touch his shoulder or pull on him playfully.

Anton is a sweetheart.

But he also has a problem.

He knows he does. His friends compared it to a sweet tooth that bordered addiction, or someone who would walk into a casino with a twenty dollar bill expecting to hit big. They sometimes even called Anton a psychopath when he’d get all giddy telling them about his day. 

Anton knew he had a problem, but it was hard to stop when he got the sweet fix or hit the jackpot each time. Nothing could top the feeling of euphoria Anton would get when he’d come to one of those girls after they asked him to come to their place. He’d look at the messages in the comfort of his room and smile, knowing what it meant when they’d preface the study session by saying they were alone. He’s addicted to the game he’d play every time, faking the shy and insecure nerd that pretty girls were going to eat for dinner. Like they were throwing him a bone by inviting him to their apartment or dorm under the guise of doing homework. 

They’d answer the door in something easy to take off or something that would cling to them like a second skin. If they were particularly desperate it’d be both, yoga pants that showed everything and a cropped shirt that rode up with every movement. Anton loved shamelessly gawking at the girls behind his glasses, shuffling from foot to foot in front of them before they invited him in. He waited for each direction, eyes darting around their room before he was invited to sit down or told to take out his notebook. He would purposefully be a step behind, showing how lost he was to be in a room that didn’t belong to him or his other intraverted friends.

He loved letting the girls make the first move. On their bed settling in as they really got a look at him in the setting of their room. Something about how clueless he was made the girls all the more strung up. He looked everywhere but at them, shrinking himself on their bed. His timidness made the girls love making the first subtle touch on his flexed arm, or purposefully grabbing his pencil so they could compare hand sizes. Anton loved acting like he was nervous wreck from the longing stares to the side of his face, like he hadn’t done this dance a million times before. He loved messing up his words while trying to act oblivious to the hungry look in their eyes. He loved the pretty smile the girls would get like he was the one falling into their trap. 

His absolute favorite part was when they’d turn his head with their soft hands. Anton would falter from the eye contact, letting his lips part in confusion as they focused on him. The notebooks and assignments between them long forgotten as they shuffled closer to him on the bed.

“Have you ever been with a girl before?” 

They’d always ask that. Voices light and airy, already having an answer in their mind.

“I have.” 

He’d always answer with a stutter. The falter in his voice never made them push any further. They assumed by Anton’s darting eyes that the number was so minuscule asking about it would only embarrass him. 

(He stopped being embarrassed of his conquests a long time ago. He also stopped being able to keep track.)

Anton is a sweetheart, with a problem of seeing pretty girls eyes flash when they realize that he is more than capable.

The moment was always the same. The mood in the room would change when Anton would sheepishly take off his oversized hoodie. Each time silence would settle over the room when they saw what he was hiding underneath. His undershirt hugged close to his body, showing the chisel and the hard work he put in at the gym. When he was feeling tired while working out he’d replay the sight of the girls taking in his toned body. They’d reach out to touch his chest as if they were expecting it all to be fake, other times they would just let out a breathless wow.

He always basked in seeing the girls try to maintain their composure. They would become the ones averting their eyes and stumbling over their words. They would be shellshocked on their side of the bed, wondering what else he was hiding. But Anton was still sweet, he always was. He would always wait patiently to see if this was really what the girls wanted. He would pick at the seam of his pants and look down to the forgotten homework to let them know they could go back to what they were doing and pretend this never happened. But the obvious bulge in his pants always made pretty girls reach for the waistband of their pants without a second thought.

Anton was never sure if they gawked at him in an attempt to get his confidence up or if they were truly surprised. As if his build and height were no indicator, each time Anton took off his pants to reveal his dick they were always so shocked. That’s when the resolve would truly fall, when their jaws would drop and they’d blink their eyes from the sheer surprise. Precum would leak from his tip just from the sight of them coming to terms with what was twitching and red and angry in front of them.

“You’re big.”

The infliction in their voice was always different. Some girls would be excited, others would be confused, a few times they almost seemed disgusted. Like there was no way the shy kid in the back of the class was hiding this.

“Am I really?” 

Anton wasn’t an idiot. Even if he said it looking down at the bed, he knew that he was endowed and it was pretty. But sometimes he just needed to hear it an extra time, or look up to see a quick head nod when they couldn’t fathom saying it again. He was an insecure nerd after all. The quiet recluse in the back of class that barely had friends. An absolute sweetheart that threw girls around and manipulated their bodies into positions they didn’t even know about.

He loved being a good fuck. For a long time he believed he was put on the Earth to fuck pretty girls and to stop them from judging books by their covers. Anton was killing two birds with one stone by cooing at girls condescendingly while he gave them everything. It was his civic duty to exert his strength and to kiss girls until they were breathless and his glasses fogged. Each time he heard I didn’t know you had that in you an angel gained it’s wings. Whenever they’d tell their girlfriends what the shy nerd did to them in their dorm Anton was making the world a better place. Sometimes he would get called back, sometimes he would run through entire friend groups just to prove he was really committed to the cause. 

No matter how many people Anton fucked, no one seemed to believe it. Like it was collective psychosis that the nerd was a good lay, or a big open secret everyone was hush about. Anton was still treated like he was meek, his soft nature made everyone believe he was an open book, so much to the point that they made wrong judgements about his character. He actually hated staying inside and enjoyed exploring the city and trying new things with his friends. He was a sensitive person but he could also advocate for himself and admit when he was wrong. He was quiet, but only because he valued personal, quiet conversations more than anything. 

He eventually learned that people’s preconceived notions of him couldn’t be helped. Anton could fuck the entirety of the campus and people would still treat him like he was made of glass. He decided to be an optimist, finding the silver lining in people assuming he was the sweetheart with a cute smile. Their perception of him could’ve been worse, being shy was infinitely better than being loud and obnoxious. So when people would assume things about Anton’s personality he would only react positively. He would let his eyes go wide, acting shocked when someone would tell him about their first impression of him. 

“I thought you were an asshole at first.”

You told Anton nonchalantly, as if his whole world didn’t crumble. You didn’t even spare him a second glance as you wrote on your lab report. You were too busy adjusting the calculations and reading over the proper way to dispose the chemicals a million times to make sure it was right while Anton sputtered to himself. He was caught off guard by your honesty and surprisingly quick answer as if it was on the forefront of your mind. You only tilted your head up for a second before you had the answer. 

Anton didn’t know what to do about you. Just when he thought he had seen every girl in his major you came along, sitting in the back of class with him. You seemed to be the recluse of a person everyone mistook Anton for. You were in and out of class, not bothering to raise your hand during discussions or to socialize with your peers. You also didn’t seem to latch onto him like other girls of his major did. When they looked for Anton’s face in the lecture hall you walked right past him, not bothering to look up from your notebook or laptop. For the first time in his life Anton felt compelled to make the first move. He thought that you two had built up a good rapport, and that you saw him as your kindhearted and resigned classmate.

But you saw him as anything but that. You said it confidently too, and loud enough for your classmates at the next lab table to look over.

“What do you mean?” Anton said quietly.

You frowned looking up from the pamphlet. You were visibly annoyed, you even motioned to the undisposed chemicals to show him that you two still had class.

“Can we talk about this when our grade isn’t at stake, please?” You asked.

You weren’t commanding for his benefit. You weren’t taking into account that he might be afraid to hear a negative opinion about himself. You weren’t looking at him like girls had before, like you were trying to pick him apart for your own entertainment. You were willing to put validation for Anton on the back burner because you had other things to do. When Anton would have girls gush over him you were benevolent, indifferent to his fake insecurities. 

The more you paid attention to your work rather than him, Anton found himself scrambling. He was working hard for your affection. When the teacher announced that class was over and lab reports were due the next morning he leapt at the chance to invite himself over. He was supposed to be shy and insecure, getting nervous over the mere thought of being alone with the opposite sex. His facade went over your head. Instead, Anton watched you do the cost-benefit analysis of inviting him over before you shrugged your shoulders.

“Alright. Just follow me.” You said before setting a ridiculously fast paced speed walk to the other side of campus.

But Anton followed you. He bobbed and weaved through crowds and essentially chased you across the common area while you continued on your pace. Other girls would walk with Anton, trying to pry information out from his clammy hands. You barely spared a second glance over your shoulder like you were trying to lose him. Anton followed you all the way to your dorm, then up the stairs, then waited for you beside your door as you put your backpack on your desk and pulled up a chair next to yours. You didn’t extend an invitation towards Anton to take a seat. 

He waits for you to step in. He’s laid the trap by taking off his hoodie even though you kept your room cold, and shuffled his seat closer to yours. He put his elbows on the table next to yours coming closer to the lines you stopped writing on your paper.

He laid the trap. He can see you hesitate, looking from him to the assignment and then back to him. Anton keeps his eyes on the paper, rubbing his fingers over his lips to stop himself from smiling.

“Do you work out?” You asked.

Your voice didn’t have the sultry infliction that girls usually had when they asked him that question. You didn’t reach across and squeeze his toned bicep or shamelessly drag your eyes over his broad shoulders. You asked the question simply, no other intention except for wanting an answer.

“I do. Sometimes.” Anton said.

You only hummed and went back to your paper. Anton scooted closer to you, hoping his Le Labo Lavande 31 and the hand across the back of your chair was invading your space enough for you to really get a good look at him. Anton watched your eyes dart again. You were nervous, eyes wide and Anton felt the rush.

“You smell nice.” You said.

The line was pulled from the trap. You’re caged in and Anton looks to you. He knows about the death grip you have on your pencil, it makes him brave enough to invade your space even more.

“You forgot to write your observations here.” Anton says, trying to make lab reports as sexy as possible. 

This assignment would’ve been abandoned a long time ago. If this was anyone else it would’ve never made it out of their backpack. You were adamant about your work, looking at the tips of his pretty fingers where you left a spot blank. He should have his report out too. He should be writing something just like you try to, instead Anton leans closer and he swears the pencil in your hand is going to break from the pressure. 

Is this how he should’ve been acting with those girls all that time? This is real nerves rolling off your body. The anxiety almost makes Anton nervous by extension, he shivers when he finally lets his hand on the back of your chair touch your body. You stiffen and he’s amazed. You went from being indifferent to being too aware. He feels you back away slightly, but when his hand tightens on your shoulder you lean in. You’re hot and cold, not knowing what you want. He can feel you tremble, and your eyes dart from his eyes to his lips. 

“I’ve never done anything before.”

Anton comes closer. His hand that pointed at a random thing on your paper turns into a fist as he distracts you completely. He brings himself forward until he’s in your line of sight, even when you try so hard to look at anything but him. He smirks when your eyes dart past him, and he fully lets his arm rest across your back. You’re malleable, before you refused to even bend to him but now you move from his slightest touch.

“What do you mean?” He asks. “You’ve never done what before?”

He should go for the nerds more often. The way you already seem sweaty and antsy just from thinking about what is happening makes Anton want to play with you some more. He knows it’s perverse, like a dog playing a smaller animal to death. He wants to see if you’ll twitch, if you’re playing dead just to try and make a run for it. 

“I’ve never—I know that—” Anton raises his eyebrows and nods to each one of your broken statements. “It just seems like—”

“Like what?” He smiles and nudges you. His smile is toothy, yours is tightlipped to a straight line. “C’mon. Talk to me.” He continues.

“You smell really good.” You repeat.

You’re the twitching body of a mouse in his jaws. He just smile and nods at your statement, how you go back to saying old things in an attempt to catch your footing. He forces you to sit in the uncomfortable silence. He waits for you to say something knowing you can’t, he waits for you to touch him even if you’re caught like a deer in the headlights.

“I look good too, right?” He starts drawing shapes on your shoulder.

He’s having too much fun. He’s entertained seeing your intelligence fail you. You’re stumped, you drop your pencil to fully clench your fist. 

The pencil is rolling back and forth on your lab report, the small sound is the only thing that speaks. You’re still desperately trying to figure out how you got into this situation, how one thing led to another so quickly that his hand is reaching underneath the sleeve of your shirt.

“You look good, Anton.” You agree.

“Thanks.” Anton smiles and you do too, averting your eyes and nodding to yourself to feign indifference. Anton looks down to your shirt, still playing with your skin underneath your sleeve. “You do too.” He says.

Another bout of silence. You let yourself be touched, hands still clenched on top of the table. Anton rests his hand on top of your fist, smoothing over the protruding veins trying to coax them open. This is more fulfilling than playing with popular girls. The game still hasn’t ended for him. He’s on the fifth consecutive jackpot when you finally open your mouth again.

“I don’t.” Your hand opens and Anton clasps over it, smiling to himself when it disappears. “I don’t know what you want me to do.” You stutter.

You’re too cute for your own good. Finally you look at him with big eyes and your eyebrows raised. You give into his touches a little more, finally warming up to all the attention. Still your pupils shake, and Anton brings his hand from your shoulder to your face to keep you from turning away.

“Can I make you feel good?” He asks.

You could barely nod before Anton was guiding you up from your chair and backing you towards your bed. He watched you stumble when the back of your legs hit the edge. You looked up at him, your pretty eyes already looking wet. Maybe he really did have a problem. Because he loved seeing them widen in surprise when he put his hands underneath your arms, lifting you up just enough to set you on the edge of your bed. He loved seeing your jostled expression and the tiny yelp when you landed so perfectly on your sheets.

Anton watched you stay in place, catching your breath from the sudden movement. He watched your chest still as his hands went to the bottom of his tank top. He’s grateful to have such a captive audience. There’s no way he can pretend to be shy after this. You’re astonished as he slowly lifts his shirt, and he watched you shamelessly stare at him before you realized he could see you. 

Anton let you eat him alive before he came up to you, until you had to tilt your head upwards to see him. You didn’t dare lift your hands from the bed, like he was going to disappear the moment you touched him. Like he was straight from a dream you only looked up to him, waiting for what he was going to do next. Anton wonders if you thought you’d end up in this position, with him looming over you and his hand creeping to a spot under your chin. He absolutely can’t stop doing this. The view is too pretty, your stillness is addicting. Like you’re too afraid to even breathe too loud in case it’d break the tension. He bends closer to your lips, eyes still open after you screw yours shut. You preemptively grip your mattress for dear life and he can’t help but smile.

He smiles into the kisses, each peck bringing you closer and closer to your mattress. When your back is against the sheets Anton climbs on, refusing the break contact. You look so pretty underneath him, eyes squeezing shut again when another wave of realization hits you. You’ve never been in this position before, with someone like Anton looming over you while still being so sweet. He runs his hand over the apple of your cheek, and fixes your shirt that left your stomach exposed.

“Is this okay?” Anton asks.

He knows it is, because your legs seemed to spread a little bit more and more with each passing second. By the time his hand drifts down to your neck you’re completely open, your soft pants bunching at the place Anton wants to touch you next. The valley of your chest gives him a straight path down, and your bent legs open further.

“Want me to touch you?” He asks.

He knows he’s cruel. You’re metaphorically dead and his face is covered in blood, but still he continues. He’s jumping around your body, reaching out a playful hand like you have the life to play back.

“Please touch me.” You whine pitifully.

Anton presses a chaste kiss to your forehead as his hands work past the elastic band of your pants and underwear. You flinch from his hands, then you preen your hips towards his fingers, then you pull back. He’s mocking when he coos at you, the time pressing a kiss to the side of your head. He almost feels bad. You’re clearly fighting against something, your eyes are shut tight as you press your head into the mattress. Anton tries kissing your eyes open, but it only makes you squeeze them tighter.

With you writhing underneath him, he took the time to look around your room. Your little pegboard above your desk where you had calendar marked with all the important due dates of upcoming assignments. Your neatly placed books and papers, your stuffed animals around your pillows. You didn’t make your bed this morning, instead laying on crumbled sheets and gripping whatever you could get your hands on. Your hand went to Anton’s forearm and clutched it, whimpering something that he couldn’t decipher.

“Does it feel good?” He asks.

You nod, and when Anton tries to pull away he feels your nails dig into his forearm. You seem unaware of what you’re doing, how you’re silently begging him to keep going. You’re just moving underneath him, already beginning to twitch helplessly. Anton purposefully pushes his fingers deeper into your clit until he knows he’s bringing you the smallest amount of pain. He’s pulling the strings, watching your body react to him because you can’t control it. By this point the girls would already be asking him to take his pants off, but you can’t even form a coherent thought. He’s having fun in his jeans, watching you twitch and twist and grip his arm with all your might.

“Anton.”

You flick your hips up and he presses his hand to your hip, pinning you to the bed. You still try to swivel, useless against his strength. He’s intrigued that you aren’t trying to be defiant but you simply can’t help it. All the other girls were pliant immediately, so desperate to please the quiet boy in class they underestimated. You’re defiant because you can’t handle it.

“What’s up?” He asks.

His completely even voice makes you whine. The flush across your cheeks tells him you’re embarrassed, red hot and real unlike his facade.

You don’t answer him. You just dig your nails into his arm and attempt to get his prodding fingers to slide in. He raises his eyebrows at your not-so-subtle attempts to get him to inside of you.

“You want me to finger you?” He asks.

You nod like a good girl and Anton almost feels bad for asking you the question in a mocking tone. He makes up for it by giving you what you want immediately, sucking in a deep breath to match your deep breath. He smiles when he sees you arch off the bed. This is so much more entertaining than anything else. Just two fingers has you making unfiltered noises and gripping the sheets. Anton has to bite his lip to stop himself from laughing, and he has half a mind to ask you if you’re okay in a serious tone. But he just continues driving his fingers into your hole.

He picks up the speed, just to hear the lewd sound you two make. It’s wet, Anton can already feel the mess on the palm of his hand. He pulls your waistband down to your knees, bringing your thighs closer together. He has to fight against your soft thighs clenching around his hand. He’s still able to drive his fingers in and out of your heat. He likes the resistance even though you clearly want more. Anton is surprised when you lift your shirt on your own accord. It’s obvious you’re doing it to relieve some of the heat you feel, but he’s still flattered nonetheless. His hand presses against your stomach, applying force to the lowest part.

“I can’t.” You whimper.

That’s when Anton finally laughs. He chuckles at how panicked you sound and how you turn your head in embarrassment.

“Do you want me to stop?” He asks while picking up the speed of his hand.

You nod your head but when Anton tries to pull his hand away you clench your thighs to keep him in place. He chuckles again, situating one legs on the side of your body and the other between your closed legs. He casts a shadow on you below him, and he can see your eyes open the slightest bit from his movements. He drives your legs apart with his knee, and continues pumping that spot deep in you that leaves you shaking your head.

“I can’t.” You whimper.

“You can.” Anton sees your eyes open, wide and staring directly at him as he drives your legs apart further. “You’re so close.” He says.

Your entire body moves from the speed of his fingers. Even your chests jumps underneath your shirt, and he wants to lift it up to reveal the rest of you. He lets you take it at your own pace since you’re giving him so much already. He just pinches and grabs a handful of your stomach, marveling in how soft you are.

“So cute.” Anton coos. “You had no idea, right?” He asks.

You shake your head and you don’t stop shaking it, like you’re trying to will away your impeding orgasm. Anton watches all of it. He’s never had a pretty girl twitch for him so much, or reach a greedy hand up to grip your chest. Something you do when you’re close, something he wants to do for you. His hand superimposes yours, and grips harder too. You’re arching into his palm and preening your hips on his fingers, and then he watches your body go rigid.

“You’re cumming.” Anton teases.

Your whimpering yes rips through the room, and Anton feels wound up himself. He has to set his sights on something else. Pretty confident girls are fun, but seeing your shame manifest in the way you push and pull at him is much more intoxicating. He likes that he knows what you want but you’re too scared to say it, it’s your body that has to act on its own to fulfill your needs. When you continue going, and your strangled moans turn to broken oh my God’s and your legs start shaking, Anton knows he won’t be able to get enough. He keeps pushing you further because he knows you can take it, and you continue whimpering. He doesn’t stop until you sound panicked, and your hand starts pushing his away.

He still looks down at you with a smile on his face. Your head is turned towards your fluffy comforter, exhaling and inhaling so hard you move the fur with your breath. He’s satisfied seeing what he’s done to you, and he’s even more amused when you turn your head to face him.

Your eyes are wide, your lips are swollen and slick from your mindless drooling. Anton feels something in his chest when your eyes move past his body to the prominent bulge in his pants. He’s a step ahead, shaking his head and moving back to rest on his haunches. That comes later, when he plays with you some more and you start voicing how badly you want to please him. When you reach your hand towards his crotch Anton grabs your hand instead, intertwining your fingers.

“I just wanted to make you feel good.” He says.

He’s a sweetheart, after all.

[chuulyssa]

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

link to part i

pairing ⸺ satoru gojo x reader

teaser ⸺ trying to mend your broken bond with gojo satoru becomes difficult at the entrance of a rival, a distinct memory from your past. torn between love that aches and love that heals, you are left to pick up the remnants of what could have been and lay to arrange what will be. choices hold the power to break or mend, and satoru meets your guarded heart that threatens to either tear you apart or weave you back together. 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?

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.

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[seresinhangmanjake]

A Trade

Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x reader

Summary: When Feyd asked for your hand, your father refused and took you away from him. Now he’ll do anything to get you back, and he’s not above kidnapping your sister to offer a trade.

Notes/Warnings: kidnapping and threats of death. I think that’s it. Feyd’s soft for reader.

Words: 4000

Feyd-Rautha Masterlist / Main Masterlist / Tag list

He sits quietly, his chair facing another of its matching set, and leans forward with his elbows braced on his knees. His hands clasp, fingers squeezing and releasing and squeezing and releasing in an effort to suppress the rage he hasn’t been able to let go of for weeks.

With eyes scanning over the figure sitting his opposite, Feyd’s teeth grind, wearing down the grit of his molars. It’s hard not to scrutinize. As he takes in every feature of her face, his lips and eyebrows involuntarily quirk in distaste. It’s not that her features aren’t nicely proportionate or well-placed on the structure of her face; they’re just…wrong. Familiar, but incorrect. 

“You don’t look like her,” he says. 

Her stare is just as intense as the one he knows so well. And though she may not look quite right, the aura she exudes does not stray from what he expects of someone with her blood. 

She jerks on the binds that are keeping her wrists locked behind her back and huffs when they don’t give way to her strength. “Well, we aren’t twins,” she states. 

There’s a bite there, but no soft edge to cushion the blow. She doesn’t know the proper way to deal with him. She doesn’t know how to ease the tension in his bones with her words. He supposes that is one of many things that makes the difference. It’s why he loves you and would not love a woman like her. 

Again she tugs on the ropes confining her. 

“Don’t bother,” he says.

She lets out a groan before finally surrendering. “You know, she told me all about you. About what became of the two of you. How it happened,” she says. “And I understand. I do. But do you honestly believe having your men abduct me was the best idea?” 

Feyd leans back in his chair. His arms cross over his chest. You are the only one who questions him, the only one allowed to question him, and his jaw ticks as he pulls back on the desire to slide a blade across your sister’s cheek.

“I do,” he says. 

Your sister shakes her head. “You know they’re giving her to Kenric. Father is with her on their planet in the process of signing a formal agreement.”

Feyd shoots up, hungry acid eating his insides. He’d heard news of the pending engagement, but he does not care to listen to those words strung together for a second time, especially not in a voice that so closely resembles yours. It makes him want to hurt something, damage something, but when the nearest target flinches at the sharpness of his movement, he pauses. You would want him to pause. He takes a breath and runs his hand down his face before circling to the back of the chair and gripping the edge of the seat. His knuckles whiten. 

“She is not marrying Kenric,” Feyd says. “Your House will give her back to me if I offer them you in return.”

She hums, unconvinced, and a crease forms at the center of his brow. He’s far from appreciative of how unsure she seems, considering this plan was the only one well-formed enough for execution. As the second born, she may not be as important as you are, but she’s a daughter of a Great House nonetheless, and no elite would allow the death of one of their own, certainly not their child, without some attempt at preservation first. They'll have to agree to his terms.

But if they don’t…

Feyd stares into the blank space by your sister’s head, his vision hazy, shapes blurring with each image of you that travels around his mind. Things had been so well. Content, yet passionate. Fulfilling. They’d been as close to perfect as Feyd could recognize from others’ descriptions of the feeling. 

You were a gift unto him without anyone realizing it. Your parents sent you for education, for experimentation, for practice in learning how to infiltrate other Houses so when the day comes for you to lead beside another, you would have the knowledge and skillset to manipulate any Great line from the inside out.

It wasn’t presented that way to his uncle, of course. You were introduced with the suggestion that the Baron see a curious girl, an innocent flower wanting to expose herself to foreign practices. But the act did not fool Feyd. He instantly saw the spots where the rose’s thorns had been clipped. What stood before him was a weapon briefly tamed for the sake of disguise who would grow back her barbs once planted within his walls. And he found much amusement in your deception.

It took mere weeks for you to fall with Feyd into deep affection. You were always around, always peering where you should not have been peering, listening to what did not belong to your ears, and when he got fed up with your lack of covertness, he confronted you. Confrontation which led to lessons in stealth that tucked the both of you into dark corners hidden from prying eyes. Dark corners that only shadowed your bodies if you were pressed against one another. Bodies that were so close breaths couldn’t help but intertwine. Breaths that brushed heat over faces and ceased only when lips met.

And then with one mistake, one request, you were gone. Kidnapped by your family’s guards. Taken from behind his turned back. Sand through his fingers.

“I believed her when she told me you loved her,” your sister says, snapping Feyd back to attention. Her mouth is parted, and as her eyes scan his face, they’re alight with something akin to wonder but with a few tainting specks of disgust. A reasonable reaction; one he anticipated. Her sister in bed with a Harkonnen—how horrible. “Nevertheless, it's fascinating to witness for myself.”

Feyd’s eyes narrow. His spine straightens. He squares his shoulders. “I asked for her hand first. She should be mine.”

A scoff bursts from your sister’s throat. “That is not what I have heard,” she tells him. “You did not ask; you demanded. And you were both naive,” she says. “She was not sent here to fall in love. Not to mention, your family has a reputation you should not forget.”

“She does not fear me,” he snaps. 

“She does not have to.”

“I am a Lord, an heir, as much as any other son of the Great Houses. My title makes me worthy. They had no valid reason to reject me and take her.”

“Do you think there isn’t more to it than any title put upon you?” she asks before she says, “It’s the wars your House involves yourselves in. The greed. The possessiveness. The pale hands in everyone else’s pots. The children you would produce.”

His jaw clenches. “And what would be wrong with our children?”

“What would be right with them? Everyone would fear the deplorable monsters they might grow to be with your blood coursing through their veins.”

Feyd’s heart prickles. 

He hadn’t thought much of children; he’d simply thought of you and what it would take to keep you by his side. Anything else he’d deemed the concerns of a much later time, but now, with it forced into his mind, he finds himself unexpectedly devastated. Normally he wouldn’t care about opinions, but to understand what ideas others might conjure up at the possibility of your union sickens him. The children you would create would be nothing less than flawless. Warriors. Survivors. Leaders. A pristine blending of you both. He knows it. 

Your sister’s chest caves with a heavy sigh. “Look, I do not say these things to hurt you in retaliation for dragging me here against my will. They are fact.”

In his silence, Feyd can feel her studying him from the inside out, not wasting a single passing second. Her position—the ties around her wrists that keep her bound to the chair—which would cause great concern to others, seems to fade in importance against her consistent, concentrated observing. It does not last long before he grows tired of it. 

“What?” he spits.

Pity bleeds into her irises. “She did try to convince them,” she says. “She claimed you’re different than you appear. Not as harsh. Not as impulsive as everyone believes.”

His gaze falls to his feet. “She was lying.”

“Clearly,” your sister agrees. Then her voice tips; softens. “But she was desperate. She would’ve said anything, though it wouldn’t have mattered. They refused to listen.”

Feyd’s eyelids pinch. He can picture you as desperate as he is. Begging. Begging as a Lady such as yourself would beg: with wit and strategy, utilizing every trick in the book short of falling on your knees. You’re like him. He begs as you do, but in his own way, with his own tricks.

“What do you believe will come of this? Really.”

Feyd looks up at her. “I told you, she will be mine again,” he doesn’t hesitate to say. “That is what will come of this.” 

“And if it doesn’t?” she asks. “Will you stop?”

“What do you think?”

As if he had cracked open her skull to reveal her brain, Feyd has an unobstructed view of each one of her thoughts nestling deeply into her mind. She said so herself what she and her House—what all Houses—think of him. War, greed, possessiveness. And he is but a fraction of the Harkonnen’s totality of power. What he’s done by taking her brushes the cusp of his capabilities, and his uncle would not restrain him from conquering another planet and snuffing out an elite lineage to obtain what he desires.

As your sister runs through the many repercussions of his plan’s potential failure, he decides he has wasted enough of his time on her. He can no longer stand to look at the face that lacks the features he prefers.

“Where are you going?” she says when he turns on his heel. 

“We’re done for now. You’ll be escorted to the guest quarters.”

“Not a cell?”

Feyd halts. 

“You’re her sister,” he says over his shoulder. And then he leaves her behind. 

—

“They’ll come today.”

Your sister looks up from the plate of food in front of her, her eyes landing on Feyd as he stops just in front of the dining table where she sits.

He’s reminded again how different she is from you. How when you sat in that same seat—a seat he is struggling not to scold your sister for occupying—you were the lone bright object in the room. Nothing about this soul-sucking black hole was capable of dimming you, and yet your contrast fit perfectly. You slotted into his fortress as if you were meant to one day rule over its every occupant, himself included. But Giedi Prime’s design does not blend well with your sister. She’s a royal-purple-velvet, gold-embroidered splotch in a sea of onyx black, and he wants nothing more than to remove her.

Soon. You will be back with him soon. Soon, you will be eating in that seat. You will be wearing his clothes. You will be existing in this space as you should be.

“How do you know?” your sister asks. 

Feyd blinks. “It’s been three days. Enough time to have been informed of your absence and return home to confirm it,” he says. “And she’ll know where you are.”

“You’re so sure?”

He gives a single nod. “She knows me,” he replies. “She knows taking you is not out of the realm of what I would do for her.”

---

Reader POV

You know where she is. From the moment your parents were informed of her disappearance and the three of you rushed to your home planet, not a single of your seconds was wasted on juggling alternative possibilities. How it is not blatantly obvious to everyone else is a shock, but perhaps your sister’s missing presence from the palace has turned frantic minds to mush. You’re the only one who isn’t running about, searching through closets and under beds as if a grown woman is playing a child’s game. 

You have to tell them. Recovering your sister cannot be a solo mission, despite how much easier that would be. Not to mention, to leave for Giedi Prime without notifying your parents would rightfully increase their panic, and no good would come of that.

So you speak his name.

They call him a demon. A monster. They curse and condemn him. How dare he demand one daughter and, after being denied, so quickly move on to stealing another. The implication that he’s taken your sister to replace you makes you ill, but to defend the love you share with him would further stir their tempers. 

“You’re certain?” Your mother asks through the trembling hand covering her horrified mouth. 

You meet your father’s blazing stare and try to ignore the hateful bile gathering at the corners of his lips. You nod. “I should go alone,” you tell them. 

“Absolutely not.”

“He’ll listen to me. He will not be cooperative with you.”

“That creature will listen to no one!”

“I know him. His thoughts, his tactics,” you argue. “I’m the one person who can get through to him.”

To his credit, your father takes a calming breath. It can not be denied that his emotions often guide him over logic, but he’s not a man known for idiocy. He sent you to the Harkonnens, and he’s not forgotten how well you’ve been trained to learn from your environment.

“Fine,” he eventually agrees. But he does not accommodate you beyond that. 

All efforts to ease his disgust for your lover fall on deaf ears. He won’t hear that Feyd hasn’t hurt your sister. He won’t believe that he hasn’t peeled her skin from her bones or starved her out of her perfectly tailored dresses. And though his eyes threaten you to surrender your conviction, to confirm his ideas and stoke the flame of his fury, you don’t give in.

Arriving at the doors of Giedi Prime’s fortress is done without guards flanking your sides. They stay on the ship. “He doesn't respond to intimidation strategies,” you tell your father. “It’s best not to storm his home with forces in tow and demand things of him.” Not lies, but you can’t say you’re honest for the sake of striking a deal without inflicting wounds on each other’s guards. True that it’s best to avoid an all-out battle, but it’s more true that your motivations are guided by seeing him again. 

When you do finally see him, you see no one else. The world falls apart and you cannot tear your eyes from his face. Neither can he keep his off of you. You’re yards apart, a rooms-span away, and yet you can already feel him from the anticipation of being in his arms. You’ve been living off of the memories of his touch, and now here he is, almost within reach.

Your father is shouting, but your heartbeat thumping in your ears shields you from the full power of his voice. “You dare steal my daughter!” you think he says. “Where is she!”

Feyd ignores him. He stares still. His mouth parts. And then, with determination in his steps, he walks to you. 

Before you can bask in the warmth of his looming closeness, his arm is reaching toward you, and in what seems like the blink of an eye, his palm slides across your cheek, his fingers weave with the strands of your hair, and he pulls you into a kiss.

Instantly, the long-awaited sensation threatens to kick your legs out from under you. Your bones warn of their weakening strength. Your heart briefly stops, but then beats return with a ferocity that could shame a beast in battle.

The *shing* of your father’s metal blade unsheathing is met with its sister sound from the multiple swords of Feyd’s guards. It buys you a few more seconds of holding each other, and you use those seconds to give all that you can.

Feyd knows how to kiss you. You know how to kiss each other. Though relatively tame in front of your current audience, he kisses with the promise of what his mouth would do to yours were you alone; echoes of what you shared before you were taken.

When you sense your time is about to run out, you plant your hands on Feyd’s chest, and as he cups your cheeks, you break the kiss. Your eyes find home in his. 

“I’ve missed you,” you whisper. 

He grins ever so slightly. “They can have her,” he says. His thumbs brush over your cheekbones and he rests his forehead against yours. “But I’m keeping you.”

I’m yours is on your lips, but his body is partially jerked out of your arms before you can speak. All gentleness in your lover switches off like a light. 

“Get off of my daugh–” 

Your father chokes, his nails clawing at the hand around his neck. 

“You don’t tell me not to touch her!” Feyd shouts with a squeeze, slowly pulling your father closer. Being inches shorter, your father must stand on his toes to keep Feyd’s grip as loose as possible, and as much as you find yourself enjoying the sight, you cannot allow it to continue.

“Feyd,” you start. As you caress his flexed bicep, you keep your tone velvety. “Feyd, let him go.” But he does not hear you. Or he does not listen. His fingers tighten. Your father’s face swells red. “Listen to me. I love you. No one is going to take me away from you. I won’t let that happen. You won’t let that happen. We will be married. We will be here, together, just you and me as we planned,” you tell him, “but I want you to let him go.”

A beat passes. Two beats. Three. Then Feyd expels the breath he’d been holding. His chest deflates, and one by one, his fingers unpeel from your father’s skin. 

Your father heaves. “Y-You…” he says through his attempts to recover. His hand rubs his rapidly bruising flesh. “You are promised…to Kenric. The agreement was all but–” he coughs “–but signed.”

A growl emerges, and from your left, Feyd lunges. Your father gasps. His eyes widen as he stumbles a step backward. 

“No!” You rush in front of Feyd to grab his face. Shaking your head, your thumbs stroke his cheeks. “No,” you repeat softly. 

The heat in his irises soothes as he keeps his eyes on you. His arm curls around your waist, and his gaze drops to your mouth. You want to kiss him again. You almost do, but then you remember why you’re here.

You look to the nearest Harkonnen guard, one of many you’re familiar with after your time on Giedi Prime. “Bring my sister. Please.”

He glances at his Lord, who nods in response to the silent question. Then Feyd’s attention returns to you, his eyes go to your lips, and he leans in. 

You struggle to care about anything other than his taste. After you were taken, you were lost to the devastation of believing your mouth and tongue and teeth would never have him again. And you’re lost now. Lost in the pleasure of those fears extinguishing. So lost that not even the echo of approaching footsteps is enough to cleave your bodies apart. 

“A relief to see that clothes are still on,” your sister’s voice greets. Reluctantly, you unseal your mouth from Feyd’s to look past his shoulder at your sister. There’s an unreadable expression on her face as she watches him bury his face in your neck. Acceptance, or revulsion.

Thankfully, your father seems to have missed her comment, so focused on seeing her well and unharmed. He takes an unsteady step in her direction. “Daughter–”

The Harkonnen releases your sister from his hold and she meets your father the rest of the way. “I’m fine, father.”

“That monster–”

“Didn’t do a thing.” Her eyes flick to the hand covering his throat. One brow arches as her head turns your way. “To me.”

Your father draws her into a hug, his hand going to the back of her head. “Good. Good,” he says. “Then let us take you both home.”

A chill runs throughout your limbs. Feyd’s arms cinch around your waist. He lifts his head, his vision glazed over as his eyes prod yours. “You’re not leaving,” he mutters.

You shake your head. “I’m not leaving.”

“You are leaving,” your father intrudes, his voice dropping an octave. “You are leaving this place. You are leaving that beast.”

Your sister sighs. “Father…”

“You are returning home, and you will marry Kenric.”

A muffled noise rumbles in Feyd’s throat. Like thunder on the horizon. A threat of a storm. You press your palm against his heart to feel the beats harder, faster. 

“We departed before anything was signed,” you say. 

Your father stomps his foot like a petulant child. “You made a commitment!”

Your head jerks back, and suddenly, red infects your sight. Intent on approaching your father, you untangle yourself from Feyd’s arms, but fingers latch onto your wrist, keeping you from gaining significant distance. You let him hold you back. 

“You made a commitment!” you snap.

“And I will keep it!”

Nails dig into your pulse point, and you know Feyd is straining against his urges as much as you are. “No,” you push. “You will walk free with one of your daughters, and the other will remain where she belongs!”

“You do not belong here!”

“Yes, I–”

“Father,” your sister repeats. 

He whips around. “What!”

“Let them be,” she says. 

Silence falls over the room. Feyd’s grip eases but does not disappear.

“He is selfish and stubborn and feels no guilt in how he loves her,” she continues. “I can’t say I’m interested in seeing what else he’d be willing to do to get her back should she be ripped away from him again, but I have no doubt it would be devastating. And I’m sure you would not survive twice.” 

Your father’s brows dip in the center. His fist clenches. “Do not disrespect me.”

“It's not disrespect,” she says. “I would fear for you, for our people, our home. Leave her, and I will marry Kenric.” 

You suck in a sharp breath.

“I have no attachments to any man. It causes me no harm to step into my sister’s place.”

“No.” Your father shakes his head. “I won’t allow it.”

“You will if you’re smart,” she replies. Tension radiates from your father, his body practically shaking where he stands. “And surely you aim to be a smart man. Surely you don’t intend to take unnecessary risks that could hurt everything our House is meant to protect.”

He opens his mouth, but the threat of humiliation is enough to shut him up. It has always been an area where he falters. Inadequacy and the fear of being looked down upon. It’s why you were marrying the son of Lord Kenric. Your House is not a weak one by many standards, but your father could not let go of the whispers among other Houses that they are stronger. He sought a match effective in showing your equals the value of his House and offspring. And blinded by his decision, there was no room for him to consider the consequences.

You watch in awe as he stands down, shrinking in the shadow of your sister’s wisdom. A smart man indeed. 

When your sister nears you, she reaches out to take your hand in hers. Feyd releases you as, for the moment, his nemesis has been subdued.

“You don’t have to do this,” you tell her. “I’m prepared to fight him tooth and nail.”

She lightly chuckles. “Your brute would burn down the world. This is what’s best. Safest.”

“You’re sure?”

“I'd decided on this path before you arrived,” she says.

You look for hesitation, any regret, but she’s a stone wall—sturdy in her decision—and you recognize that arguing would implant a tone of dismissiveness of her wishes. 

“Thank you,” you mouth.

Your sister squeezes your fingers. She tips her head to you before she glances at Feyd. You peek over your shoulder, but his face is blank. Whatever passes between them is indecipherable—some unspoken understanding. 

“Keep him in line,” she says. Then she steps away from you.

Your father glares the entire way out of the fortress, and you know you’ve severed your ties today. You’ve made a choice, picked a side, and neither he nor your mother will ever understand. Whether or not they’ve become an enemy you will learn in time, but at the very least, it is unlikely you will be welcomed into the home where you grew up. A sacrifice you accept. 

As the doors close, Feyd comes up behind you. His arms circle your waist. Your back meets his chest. His lips plant on your neck. “Come to bed,” he says. 

You grin.

---

A/N: thanks for reading! If you liked it, let me know :)

[mayakern]

A Note From Our Founder (and some other things)/ The World's Longest Newsletter

Hey, y’all. The past week has brought us a lot of extremes: first the fear, horror, shame and despair as we realized just how dire the business’ financial situation was… and then relief, gratitude, hope, joy—so many overwhelming feelings I don’t even have the words for them all. Y’all showed up for us in a big way and I cannot even begin to express how thankful I am for that. Many of you have followed the store for years. You’ve watched as it’s grown—bloomed—and seen me do the same, as for better or worse, my identity and the business’ are so closely intertwined. So much of my life is invested in this little indie clothing brand that the prospect of it hurtling towards failure made me feel like I, too, was hurtling towards failure. But you all showed up and helped us avoid a huge crisis and for that I cannot even begin to say how thankful I am. How thankful we all are. Not only did sales rise to meet our crisis, but you showed us such an overwhelming amount of kindness—sharing our store on social media and with friends, offering us words of encouragement, telling us just how much you love our clothing and how much it has meant to you—that will touch me forever. We’re not quite out of the woods yet—our immediate payroll concerns have been addressed, but we’ll still have to get a bit scrappy and roll with the punches for the next few months, if not longer. But thanks to all of you, now our problems look solvable and not like unavoidable catastrophes. Thank you. Maya Founder/Co-Owner Maya Kern LLC

In case you haven’t heard, we’re still running our sale—almost everything in our store, including garments that were already put on clearance, are 20-50% off. Many items are being sold at or below the amount we paid to make them to help us recoup some of our production costs. Some of our buttery soft viscose shirts are as cheap as $9 right now! This sale will be ending Sunday night at midnight US central time, so don’t miss it!

Also, we heard from y’all that our store’s auto region detection was buggy as heck, so for your convenience we’ve added a “Store Location” drop down to the top of our store page. Many of our items are already sold out in the US, but some of those sold out garments are still in stock in Canada.

We’ve heard y’all loud and clear—many of y’all have asked us when our petticoats will return and have also suggested that we run some preorders to help us secure funds for production. So from January 16th at 12pm Central to January 30th at 12pm central, we’ll be running preorders for our much loved petticoats! For those of you unfamiliar with our petticoats, they are a lightweight, sensory friendly under layer that adds the perfect amount of volume under our midi skirts. While many petticoats cut corners by either offering only a limited size range or by stacking layer upon layer of scratchy, flimsy tulle to create the desired volume while growing heavier with every added layer, our petticoats use fewer layers of a stiffer, higher quality tulle that maintains its volume under the weight of a skirt. Because all tulle regardless of quality can be quite scratchy, we also added a satin slip as the base layer of our petticoats to make sure that they are sensory friendly and non-irritating.

This time they’ll be available in classic black and lovely blush. We’ll also be offering a small discount to anyone who buys a petticoat during preorders. (Please keep in mind that the blush petticoat photos are mockups and so the final color may be slightly different)

And lastly, if you’ve made it this far, we have some production news! I could not be happier about how much y’all have loved the cozy matcha set—they’re already sold out in the US (tho our Canada store still has a few left!). Creating this loungewear set has been on my bucket list for so long and I am ecstatic that y’all share my love for them. Thanks to how good the sales have been, we’ve been able to plan more cozy sets for later this year, even though they are quite expensive to make. First up will be a spring/summer version with short sleeves and shorts. These will have a different, less warm interior but will still be made of 100% cotton.

I have some ideas rolling around for a new cozy set or two for the end of 2025, but I’ll just let y’all stay curious about that. In truth I am so excited about the next winter concept that I can hardly bear to keep the secret, but I shouldn’t get ahead of myself.

Thanks so much for reading and have a great rest of your day!

[emotionalsupportgoblin420]

So first, lemme introduce you to my f/o of the week: Tfa Bumblebee

(Also, I will be rping as my Shisa s/i)

Me.

He would start with playing a song that is calming and that I like. Music always calms me down. Once I've settled down a bit, he'd hug me and just sit there till I was okay and playing calming music.

No. He doesn't wear clothes period lol /nm /silly

Him. He's also the one who needs protection more often as my yokai powers keep me well protected. Even against decepticons.

Low light, a candle, some snacks, maybe some hot coco for me, and some warmed up motor oil for him if it's the cold months, some blankets, a plushy for me, and anime while we're all cuddled up.

He would beg me not to leave, and I would have to to protect him.

Yessir! We're two nerodivergent dumbasses ofc we would lol /lh

I'm the only one who gets sick, and it's constant comfort, pity, and cuddles, which my touch starved ass LOVES.

Obvi we can't have bio children but he's not entirely against it. But preferably WAY in the future when we're both more mature lol.

Probably to somewhere like an amusement park. (Fun fact: In the canon, Bumblebee has gone to an amusement park. Whether or not his 16 foot tall robot ass was or was not allowed on any ride remains unknown, but imagining him on a roller coaster is fun as hell to me.)

We both kinda do. Him more than me, but we can always tell when the other is upset.

Not often, but it does happen. Usually over something petty ngl. It usually goes down like this: yelling, petty insults, storming off, coming back to talk about it calmly, apologizing, and forgiveness. Works for us. Neither of us are ones to linger on things long.

Me. I have made it my life's mission to torment him lol (in a loving way ofc. I try not to take things too far and to apologize when I do).

Both of us match each other's energy level, and we both have a love for speed. He sees me as a "goddess" (his words, not mine), and I am deeply insecure, and he helps with that while he's very confident (downright full of himself in a fun way.) The problem arise when you realize we both have ADHD. I'm innatentive, and he's hyperactive. That makes for an interesting combo to say the least lol. Also, he's a yapper and sometimes, I just wanna be left alone. This has led to a few petty arguments.

Yep. We both do. I always have to kiss him if either of us is leaving.

Omg yes. Sometimes, he won't shut up. But, I knew what I was signing up for, so I can't complain too much, lol.

Me. I'm the flirt in the relationship, and I wear it like a badge of honor.

Me! I LOVE animals! I already have a hamster and a crow (the crow is my familiar). If I could, I'd have horses, dogs, cats, cows, goats, ducks, and millipedes. I do have to restrain myself a little but will get some of those one day lol.

I'm aight with it most of the time. He loves it. He loves people knowing I'm his.

Pika Girl by S3RL

Bee would, and I'd help Ratchet patch him up.

The song Bumblebee always reminds me of him (for obvious reasons). Fire reminds him of me (because of my dark flame magic).

Either one of us, really. I could do it by being flirty (and possibly explicit 😏). He gives me his puppy eyes, and I am not leaving, lol.

Neither of us ngl. I'm too ticklish, and he wouldn't feel shit if I tried.

Video games! I don't care much for playing, but I love watching. Especially Legend of Zelda games.

Mine's alcohol. His is video games.

Him. He's such a toddler when he's drunk (I think it's kinda cute ngl. Also, according to G1, cybertronians can get drunk /nm /gen)

We like the basics. Babe, honey, sweetie, sweetheart, the usually. Babe is the most common one between the two of us.

Him. I freak out a bit. I hate the sensation.

If he could choose my outfit, he'd probably choose my yellow plaid dress and white leggings (assuming it's for a night out. If we're staying home, he'd pick some sort of laundering)

Oh, we're both handsy. But he can be more explict with it. If he can do it discreetly, he'll try to squeeze my thigh (not to say I mind ofc).

Me! I like to tell SCP stories! Unfortunately, I'm dyslexic so I often stumble over my words lol.

Me again. I love to forage for edible mushrooms, and I make mean fried mushroom nuggets if I do say so myself. He tried to cook once and nearly burned down the whole base. Optimus banned him from ever doing that again so... yeah.

We both make dirty jokes, but when it comes to stories that make the other blush, I'm the reigning champ.

Me. I draw all the time and make jewelry as well.

I'm most likely to fire up the stove at ungodly hours because I'm hungry. He keeps me company, which I appreciate.

Me. I cuss like a sailor (and I'm not happy about it).

He's the one always wanting to try something new. I'm a bit vanilla ngl. I just don't think of some of the things he does.

Me. He'd be against for like 10 minutes before caving to the cuteness and helping me beg Optimus to let us keep it lol.

Neither of us ngl. He doesn't eat, and I'm a lightweight when it comes to food portions.

Me as a joke lol.

He likes sunny and I like rainy.

Either of us. Without hesitation.

I would, and he'd join. The most likely song to create such a situation is Classic by MKTO.

Yes we both can.

Hell yeah 100%. We match each other's freak lol.

No. Both of us are chronic oversharers.

Him. He's literally a car lol.

Him more than me. If I don't give him enough attention, he starts begging like a dog. He knows what to do for my affection.

Me ngl. Nothing too bad. Just something little like hiding the game he was playing or something like that.

For me, it's happy stims, hugs, and nuzzling my face into him while I hug him. For him, it's some kind of gesture, like taking me on a nature or something.

California vacay and checking out cool stores and universal.

Any swimming is skinny dipping for him. I wouldn't, tho. I hate feeling that exposed outside of the comfort of either of our rooms.

He is. I physically couldn't carry him, lol. Not to mention, I usually fall asleep while cuddling or during a drive.

He doesn't get it, but he's willing to stargaze for me.

I usually will just spread my legs while we're alone, and he jumps at the opportunity. He'll just gently brush his hand against my bits, and I'm good to go.

I'm serious with grocery shopping, and he throws random stuff into the cart.

Me ngl.

I'm top dommy mommy. He's bottom twink.

He does.

Ask for OTPs and Self Ships

copied from a now gone post and blog: original url https://glitter-and-gasoline-deactivate.tumblr.com/post/687208822931095552

TW: angst, suggestive content, etc.

Who would end a heated argument by defending their actions with ‘because I love you!’ ?

What would they do if the other woke in a manic state after a nightmare?

Do they wear the other’s clothes? (sweatshirt, bandana, necklace, etc.)

Which one is more protective? Who needs to be ‘protected’?

Describe their cozy night in.

Who would beg the other not to leave? Who has to leave to protect the other?

Would they build a pillow fort together just because?

What happens if one of them gets sick?

What are their thoughts on having children?

Describe their first date.

Do either try to hide their emotions if upset? Can the other still tell?

Do they have many heated arguments? How do they smooth things over?

Who’s the bigger tease?

How do their personalities compliment each other? How do they clash?

Do they always say ‘i love you’ before leaving?

Can they stay up all night just talking?

Who’s more likely to pull the other in by the waist and kiss them passionately?

How likely are they to have fur babies? How many and what kind?

How do they feel about PDA?

Choose one song that perfectly describes their relationship.

Who would get into a fight to defend the other’s honor? Who tends to the other’s wounds?

What reminds each of their partner?

Who’s more likely to convince the other to stay in bed come morning?

Who’s more likely to give the other a massage?

Do they have any hobbies they share?

What are their vices?

Who is the light weight that needs to be taken care of after a party?

What are there thoughts on pet names? Do they have any?

Who is more likely to jump in an elevator? Who freaks out?

Your OTP gets to pick out each other’s outfits; what is each wearing?

Can they sit side by side without touching the other or are they handsy? (lacing fingers, touching knees, etc.)

Who’s the better story teller?

Who’s the better cook?

Who’s more likely to tell a dirty joke or story to make the other blush?

Who’s more artistic?

Who’s more likely to fire up the stove at 2am because the other woke up in the middle of the night hungry?

Which is more likely to swear?

Who is more sexually experimental? Who’s more vanilla?

Who would rescue an injured animal and nurse it back to health? What would the other think?

Who has an insatiable appetite? And what does the other do to help?

Which one would take their jacket it off and drape over the other one because they were visibly shivering?

What’s their favorite type of weather to enjoy together? (getting snowed in together, watching thunderstorms, etc.)

Who would give their life for the other without a second thought?

Who would dance in the kitchen making dinner? Would the other join in or watch from the doorway?

Can they fall asleep without the other?

Would they get frisky at the movies by themselves?

Does either of them have a secret that could potentially ruin their relationship?

Who’s the better driver?

Does either of them have a hard time being away from the other?

who’s more likely to do something out of spite?

What’s a non verbal way they say I love you?

Describe their weekend getaway?

Would they ever go skinny dipping?

Who’s more likely to carry the other to bed?

Do they like watching clouds or star gazing?

What do they do turn the other on/put them in the mood?

Whose the serious one when grocery shopping and who likes to toss random things in the cart?

Who’s more likely to hold a grudge after an argument?

Who tops? Who bottoms?

Who pulls the other closer when they’re sleeping?

[ichnit3]

NEW POST FROM @ichnit3

his prize possession 💵🩷

idk what this really is yall… it’s a drabble ig …

His favorite kind of girls were the lonely ones who sat alone at the bars while their friends danced around with other men, gosh he could go for those all day - taking them to his home and molding them into his personal 'good little girls' before slowly getting tired of them and throwing them out. But the day he found you he just couldn't throw you out.. he wanted to keep you. You were his prize possession, he treated you like a trophy — everything you wanted he would get not matter what it was.

But if you want something you had to do something back in return and those 'returns' were movies for him... the once sweet man at the bar offering to pay for your drinks and making you giggle now had your hands tied up with a camera in your face. “Smile for me baby” his voice raspy but heavenly — the only thing you could do was smile. “Good girl” his ‘good girl ’.. his ‘ innocent girl ’.. his ‘ beautiful piece of art ’.

His friends were even jealous of him. His sweet girl who started to do everything for him — “ my love .. could you make our guest some tea? ” your sweet smile and cheerful voice made the other men crave you. “ you’re a lucky man ” , “ mmm i would love to be laid up with her all day ” , “ her innocence… it would drive me insane ” , “ she’s such a sweetheart ” .

Those were a few things his friends would say about you — sometimes they would be sweet and kind things but sometimes it would be very sexual things. Yet he never got mad but instead he would do some of the things with you … fucking you by a big open window, playing with you under the tables at restaurants, or even teasing you in front of his friends. You were his ‘ prize possession ’ and his only.

“shh.. shh you’re okay my sweet girl” he whispered in your ear causing a goosebump reaction to hit your warm body. pumping and pumping you felt your nails dig deeper into his back while his cold hands helped your body bounce on his thick cock — “ you feel it baby? is that why you are lost for words? ” the non stop pumping now had your legs twitching. You felt his breath against your skin .. it was heavy and yet steady. he wanted to please this his toy … because again you are his prize possession and soon to be the love of his life.

[hockeyboistrash]

operation get luke a girlfriend | l.h

summary: jack is tired of watching his brother pine over his best friend so he takes matters into his own hands to get you both to admit your feelings for each other. His plan, however, goes horribly wrong.

this idea popped into my and had to write it. I've never written for Luke so I hope I've done it justice. this one has been cooking for a while so I hope you enjoy. This is basically 4.2k words of best friends to lovers.

@star2fishmeg this one's for you 💖

You and Luke were best friends. You would do anything for each other. It could be after midnight but you would still pick Luke up after a roadie. Luke would ditch a game of Chel with his brothers if you were having a bad day, bringing you your favourite food and movies. Whenever asked about it the same three words would be spoken. ‘We’re just friends.’ No one was convinced though, especially Jack. Watching his younger brother pine after his best friend was painful to watch. He wanted nothing more than his brother to be happy. You brought him out of his shell. Luke was quite reserved around people unless you were his family so Jack and Quinn were surprised when he said more than two words to you the first time you met.

It didn’t faze Jack that Luke was dressed up to go to a party, only smirking at him as he got his stuff together. He saw the way your eyes lit up when Luke agreed to go to your party and how his brother bit his lip to try and hide his smile after you hugged him. It was obvious there was something more between the two of you and Jack hoped tonight one of you admits it. 

Luke wasn’t normally one for parties and he has a game tomorrow but when you invited him he couldn’t say no. The party playlist you curated was playing as he slipped into your apartment. It didn’t take long before he heard his name being called from across the room. “Luke! You came!” You shouted, flinging your arms around him while Luke wrapped his arms around your waist instinctively. 

“Of course I came. You asked me to come.” He mumbled, loud enough so only you could hear him. Luke was glad you couldn’t see his face, heat rising to his cheeks. 

“Well I appreciate it.” You told him, your lips tugging into a grin. “Let’s get you a drink.” You said, grabbing his hand and pulling him to the makeshift drinks table. Luke looked down at your intertwined fingers, liking the way it felt. He knew he shouldn’t though because you’re his best friend. Best friends aren’t supposed to miss the feeling of your hand in his when you let go. Luke missed the warmth of your hand in his cold one. He could shove them in his pocket to try and warm them up but he preferred the alternative, holding your hand. “Earth to Luke.” You waved your hand in front of his face, giggling as you brought him out of his inner spiral. 

“Yes. Sorry. Thank you.” Luke stuttered out. 

“Is everything okay?” You asked, eyebrows tugged into a slight frown, worried about him as he was a little distracted. 

“Everything's fine.” He told you, trying to cover up the fact he was thinking about holding your hand again. You weren't convinced though. You've known Luke for a couple of years now and you knew when he wasn't being entirely honest with you. You also know he likes to downplay everything. 

“I know it's easier said than done but you don't have to worry about tomorrow. You're going to defend like hell out there and win.” You said, giving his forearm a comforting squeeze. Luke loves your positivity. It's contagious and never fails to make him feel better. He knows that there's no way the team will win every game but you still tell him he will and he still goes onto the ice with a pep in his step. “Maybe you'll even score a goal.” You winked, your laugh was music to Luke's ears. He could kiss you right now. He wanted to kiss you but there's no way you felt the same about him so he buried those thoughts deep in his mind. He would rather bury his feelings than risk losing his best friend.

Your name was shouted from across the room before Luke could think of a witty comeback. You grabbed his hand and started dragging him with you. Luke’s eyes widened seeing the karaoke set up. “Not gonna happen.” Luke said, shaking his head vehemently. 

“Relax Luke, I wasn’t going to make you sing. I just- This is going to sound dumb.” You started, biting your lip slightly. “Basically I kinda agreed to sing one song on the karaoke machine with Maria but now I’m nervous and, I don’t know, I thought having you there would make it not as bad. It’s dumb I know.” You rambled. 

“It’s not dumb.” Luke mumbled. He was taken aback by your admission. You were one of the most confident people he knew. “I’ll be standing right here, cheering you on.” 

You grinned, thanking him before going over to your friend. She handed you a microphone as the start of the song began playing. Your eyes twinkled as they found Luke in the small crowd of your friends that was gathering. To him, it felt like it was just the two of you in the room. He was so engrossed in your performance that he didn’t notice he wasn’t the only one watching you intently until someone nudged him, his drink spilling over his hand. “They’re amazing aren’t they?” They shouted over the music, gesturing to you at the front of the room. Luke couldn’t quite put his finger on it but there was something about this guy that made his skin crawl. He grunted in agreement hoping he got the hint that he wanted to be left alone until you came back over. He didn’t.

Luke didn’t even get a chance to greet you before the guy next to him did. He didn’t remember you mentioning anything about a new guy in your life. You told each other everything. Your new friends, any potential boyfriends or girlfriends, anything that is going on in your lifes so he was confused when you greeted him. “Luke this is Scott, Scott this is my friend Luke.” 

‘Friend’ That stung a little. Luke wasn’t sure why though because it was true, you are friends yet hearing you introduce him to some guy, who you may or may not be hooking up with, as a friend caused an unfamiliar feeling to bubble inside. 

“I’m gonna head out.” Luke mumbled, leaning down so only you could hear him. He wasn’t in the mood to third wheel which is what it felt like to him. Luke only knew you and your roommate at this party and only came for you. 

“Oh, okay. Let me walk you out.” You said trying to hide the disappointment in your tone. You made the short walk to the front door, handing Luke his coat. “Thank you again for coming. I know you have a game tomorrow so it means a lot that you came.” 

“Of course I came. You asked me to come.” Luke shrugged. He could add so much more, he wanted to in fact yet there was something holding him back, maybe it was the rational side of his brain that knew if he continued speaking it would change everything. He wanted to tell you that he knew coming would make you smile and he loves your smile. He wanted to tell you that he misses you when he’s gone, wanting to spend all the time he could with you. 

“Well, I’ll be there tomorrow night, front row wearing number forty-three.” You told him, your lips turned up into a smile. It was contagious causing Luke’s to do the same. He loved when you wore his jersey. 

“See you tomorrow.” Luke said, giving you a quick hug. You didn’t let go though, leaning up to give him a kiss on the cheek. 

“See you tomorrow, Luke.” You said, turning quickly to the door and heading back inside the party. 

Luke stayed frozen in the hall, staring ahead. He didn’t miss the way Scott was watching the two of you. He must have watched you kiss Luke. You kissed Luke. On the cheek. Something neither of you have done before. The most you have done was hug each other but never kissed. Luke was glad you went back inside so you couldn’t see the blush creeping onto his cheeks. 

Luke wasn’t exactly sure how he made it back to his and Jack’s apartment but he did. It was like he was on autopilot. Locking the door behind him. Slipping his shoes off and hanging his coat up. “Luke?! Is that you?! You’re back early.” Jack called from his spot on the couch where Luke left him earlier in the evening. 

“Y/N kissed me.” Was all Luke said before heading to his room leaving Jack shocked.

“What the fuck.” He mumbled, surprised at his brother's confession. Jack immediately rang Quinn to inform him of the revelation, ignoring the time difference.

“This better be good.” Quinn greeted, sighing at being interrupted and wondering why his brother is still up so late.

“Hello to you too.” Jack said, rolling his eyes. “Thought you’d want to know Y/N kissed Luke.”

“What?!” He shouted down the phone. “Are you sure? When? What?!” Quinn was lost for words. He knew his brother was madly in love with you and that you were madly in love back, anyone with eyes could see that except you two. Their mom also picked up on it. 

“I don’t know. He didn’t elaborate.” Jack said. “It’s time though.”

“Jack, don’t.” Quinn warned, knowing exactly what he was on about. This wasn’t the first time he brought it up but Quinn was insistent that they shouldn’t meddle in their brother’s love life. Jack was bored of waiting for either of you to make the first move and decided to take matters into his own hands.

“Too late. The plan has been made. Operation get Luke a girlfriend is a go.” Jack said, ignoring his brother's concern and hanging up on him. 

-x-

Jack had a plan. It wasn't a great plan and Nico told him that at any opportunity he could. All he could do was shake his head at his teammates' antics knowing that once Jack had an idea there was no way to stop him. 

“We need to somehow find out if Y/N is dating this Scott guy.” Jack said, his voice low in case his brother walked in. They had just finished practice and were sat in their stalls in various states of undress. Jesper and Dawson leant forward, hanging on every word. 

“We could just ask them? Aren't they coming to the game tonight?” Nico suggested while Jack gave him an incredulous look, like that was the craziest idea he's heard. 

“Or we could invite them round to the team party and ask them about how their life is?” Dawson piped up. 

“Yes! That's it!” Jack exclaimed, making Nico roll his eyes because that was basically his idea, just more straightforward. 

“Won't Luke ask Y/N to come?” Nico asked. 

“Nah he's freaking the fuck out that he's ruined their friendship or something.” Jack told them. He finally got it out of his brother what had happened last night. That you were talking to this guy, Scott, and then you kissed him when saying goodbye and then you haven't messaged him about the kiss. Luke was convinced it was the end of the friendship he knew and loved. “So we gotta give them a little push.”

Nico shook his head, getting up to go to the shower just as Luke was coming into the locker room. “This is a terrible idea.” He mumbled, wanting no part of it. 

-x-

Your eyes lit up when you saw Luke leaving the locker room, your lips tugged into a smile just as bright. The Devils had just won so you're not sure why your best friend didn't look his usual happy self after a win. His eyes landed on you, surprised you're here and wearing his jersey. He made his way over to you, his strides large so it didn't take long for him to stand in front of you. 

“You still came?” Luke said, struggling to hide the surprise in his tone. He could feel his finger twitch by his side, the urge to tuck the stray bit of hair behind your ear strong.

“Of course I came. Did you not want me to come?” You asked, worried that you overstepped. You looked down at your shoes, wanting to hide from his gaze. 

“No, no. I'm glad you came. I want you to be here. It's just- I didn't hear from you all day so I didn't know if you were still coming.” Luke stuttered out, hating that the thought of him not wanting you here crossed your mind. “I want you here, Y/N.” He reiterated, silently pleading for you to look at him again. 

“I'm sorry I didn't message you today. I had a little too much to drink after you left and then I didn't wake up until midday. I thought you'd be too busy at that point so I didn't want to bother you.” You admitted, looking back up at him. Luke wanted to tell you that he's never too busy for you. It was on the tip of his tongue but as always his brother has the best timing.

“Y/N!” Jack exclaimed the moment his eyes landed on you. 

“Hey Jack.” You smiled at the older boy. “Great game tonight.”

“Thanks Y/N.” He grinned, not realising he was interrupting something or not caring. “You're coming to the team meal, right?”

“Team meal?” You asked, eyebrows furrowed. You looked at Luke hoping for some clarification.

“I was going to tell you.” He told you, rubbing the back of his neck. “The team is having a little get together next weekend and you're invited if you want to come.” Luke could kill his brother right now. He was going to ask you himself but now he’s worried you're going to think he didn’t want you there. The rational side of him knows he's just overthinking however ever since the kiss his thoughts have been in overdrive.

“I'd love to come. As long as I'm not intruding.” You said, biting your lip slightly, a nervous habit of yours. You always felt a little weird going to team events, official or unofficial ones, as Luke’s plus one because you weren't dating. That fact you were very much aware of. 

“You're not intruding, Y/N. All the guys would love it if you came.” Jack assured you. “Besides, we need someone to keep this guy in check.” He teased earning an eye roll and a playful shove from Luke and a giggle from you. 

“Well I'll be there.” You confirmed. “Do you need me to bring anything?” 

“Oh, errm, I think Cap is sorting all that out so better ask him.” Luke told you, trying to get you to leave for a moment so he could curse his brother out.

“I'll go and do that.” You said, spotting Nico across the corridor. You gave Luke's hand a little squeeze and smiled at him. “I won't be a sec.”

Luke watched you go over to Nico and Dawson, waiting until you were out of an earshot before scowling at his brother. “Why on earth would you mention the dinner when you know I haven't asked them yet.” 

“Didn't know you actually were going to ask them.” Jack shrugged. He was trying to hide the amusement this situation gave him. 

“Well I was and now Y/N's going to think I don't want them there.” He hissed, keeping his voice low so you can't hear them. 

“They're not going to think that.” Jack told his brother even though he knew it was no use. Once Luke had something in his head it was hard to change his mind. “Y/N is in love with you! It's so obvious but you refuse to see it.”

“We're just friends.” Luke insisted, trying to convince himself more than Jack. 

“Friends don't do what Y/N does. Friends don't kiss.” He pointed out. Luke clenched his jaw, trying not to make a scene. That was the last thing he wanted right now. All he wanted was for Jack to shut up, to stop him giving him hope knowing it'd only bring him heartbreak. Luke couldn't handle your rejection. 

“I'm not interrupting am I?” You asked, your smile fell when your gaze landed on Luke. You rarely saw Luke angry. You knew he got angry on the ice but this was different. The last time you saw him like this, eyebrows furrowed and jaw clenched, was at a bar and some creep was hitting on you, not taking no for an answer. 

“Not at all.” Jack said, slightly shaking his head at his brother before walking away, leaving the tension hanging. Luke was about to follow but you grabbed his hand, stopping him in his tracks. 

“Is everything okay?” You asked, willing for Luke to look at you instead of staring ahead. 

“Everything's fine, Y/N.” He hoped you would let it go. The problem with being best friends though is you know when something is wrong. 

“Luke, you don't have to keep things from me. I know something is wrong.” You said, searching his face for any reaction, the silence killing you. “D-did I do something wrong? Please tell me if I did something wrong.” 

“I-I'm sorry.” He had to get out of there. It broke his heart being the cause of your hurt but he didn't want to make things worse. “Jack’s my ride and I-I have to go.” Luke stuttered out before walking away to join his brother. 

“Luke, wait.” You pleaded softly but it was no use. He was gone. You didn't want to cause a scene so you willed the tears that threatened to fall to wait until you got home. 

“You alright, Y/N?” Nico asked, making you jump slightly not realising there were people still in the corridor.

“I'm fine.” You said with a forced smile. Nico saw right through it but he didn't want to bring it up. What he was going to do is kill Jack. He knew it was a terrible idea to interfere with Luke’s love life and now he may have ruined their friendship. “I better go too. Got a lot of work to catch up on. Great game tonight though.” You rushed out before hurrying to your car, wanting to put as much space as possible between you and the arena. 

The moment you got home you made a beeline to your room, ignoring your roommates calls. You threw Luke’s jersey off, the material feeling uncomfortable on your skin. You were spiralling, pacing the room as your mind went over every little detail from the past couple of days. One minute you were discussing summer plans and inviting him round to your party and the next you're kissing him. That's when the realisation hit. 

“You're home early.” Your roommate said, leaning against the doorframe. “Thought you'd be hanging out with Luke tonight.”

“He probably doesn't wanna see me ever again.” You mumbled, face down on your bed. 

“Don't be ridiculous of course he does. You're his best friend.” She sighed, sitting on the edge of your bed. “What happened?” 

“I kissed him last night.” You admitted, biting your lips slightly feeling nervous under your roommate's gaze. “And now I've ruined everything.”

“What makes you say that?” She asked and you told her everything. From the way you felt brave enough to kiss him on the cheek goodbye to not hearing from him all day. Then you told her what had happened at the rink. She listened as you spilled every thought and feeling you had without judgement. She let you get everything off your chest before chiming in. “It sounds to me that Luke is being stupid. He’s so in love with you that it’s kinda sickening sometimes. I swear he’s permanently got heart eyes whenever he sees you. Just give him a little time, you know how in his head he can get.” You nodded, taking in her advice knowing she was right. 

-x-

You weren’t going to come to the team dinner. Even though Luke has apologised for what happened after the game and you were talking again something felt off between you. It was like there was an elephant in the room that neither of you were talking about. Jack had texted you, persuading you to still come and so did Dawson and some of the other guys. That’s why you were standing in front of the door, finding the motivation to knock on the door.

Nico was the first to greet you, answering the door when you finally knocked. He took your coat, hanging it up on the coat rack by the door while you walked down the hallway to the living room where you were met with a chorus of hello’s. 

“Damn, Y/N! Got a hot date after that we don’t know about.” Dawson called from the breakfast bar, a drink in each hand. You couldn’t help but look down at your outfit, feeling a little self conscious. You knew he didn’t mean it in a bad way but now you were worried what you were wearing was a bit much. Luke wanted to assure you it wasn’t too much, that you looked beautiful tonight. Well to him you always did. 

“Nope. No hot date.” You told him, your eyes not leaving Luke as if it was him you were telling. They followed him as he excused himself to the kitchen, not missing the way blush dusted his cheeks. You decided to join him in the kitchen, wanting your best friend back and the only way that would happen is by talking to him. “Hey.” You greeted, making Luke jump slightly.

“Hey.” It was soft, like he didn’t want to ruin the silence. Your eyes raked over him, taking in every detail in case this was the last time you saw him. From his curly hair, which you enjoy running your fingers through, to his hands, which you miss holding.

“Please tell me if I read the situation wrong. That you didn’t want me to kiss you goodbye.” You said, your directness surprising Luke a little. “Because right now I feel like I’ve ruined everything.” You waited for an answer, the silence killing you. Your eyes flickered over Luke’s face looking for any reaction, willing for him to respond, but nothing. 

You took that as your answer, leaving Luke alone in the kitchen and heading out of the front door, grabbing your coat on the way. You didn’t care if everyone saw what happened. At this rate you would never see the team again. You didn’t stick around long enough to hear their concerned questions or to see Luke realise what you were saying.

“Y/N, wait!” Luke called after you, running down the street in a t-shirt and jeans. Even after everything you were concerned he was going to catch a cold or something.

“Luke, what are you doing? Where’s your coat? You’re going to get ill.” You rushed out, fretting over him. He hadn’t even noticed he didn’t grab his coat. That was the last thing on his mind, the first being you.

“I don’t care. I had to catch up with you.” He told you, pulling you to the side so you weren’t in peoples' way. “I’m sorry.”

“Luke-” You sighed but he continued, wanting to get everything off his chest.

“Y/N, I’m sorry I’ve been a shit friend recently. I’ve just been so in my head about everything and that’s not an excuse but I’m sorry. If anyone’s ruined anything it’s me.” Luke rambled. “You kissed me but I thought you were going out with Scott so I tried to put distance between us which was very stupid of me because I realised I hate being apart from you. I liked that you kissed me though.”

“Y-you did?” You asked.

“Yes and I wish I could kiss you back this time.” Luke said, cupping your cheeks with his hands. They were cold but you didn’t mind. It felt natural, like they were where they belonged. “If you want me to, that is.” He added, not wanting to overstep. You didn’t trust your voice to reply to him, to tell him yes you wanted to kiss him. That you wanted him to do that for the longest time. You leaned up, brushing your lips against his, an invitation for him to kiss you. It was soft, Luke wanting to savour every bit of it. Your lips were sweet from your lip balm, a fact he would remember for a long time. “I love you, Y/N, and I’m so sorry I was too chicken to do anything about it too.”

“Well you weren’t the only one who was scared.” You assured him. “I love you too.” Luke couldn’t help but smile hearing those words come out of your mouth. You leaned up to kiss him again, his cold skin touching yours making you shiver. “Let’s head back and get you warmed up.” You said about to walk back to Nico’s apartment when Luke stopped you.

“Or we could just go back to mine.” He suggested, not wanting to go back to everyone just yet. 

“Fine but you’re having a warm shower. I can’t have your mom or your coach kill me because you got sick.” You told him. 

“But it’d be worth it though.” Luke grinned and he was right. It would be worth it because you are in love with your best friend.