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chuulyssa · 1 day ago

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You blinked. “Excuse me?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You hesitated warily. “…What now?”

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

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

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

──── ୨ৎ ────

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A certain someone.

Maybe that’s why you liked his company.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Naoya!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“There. Now we’re official.”

──── ୨ৎ ────

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m not,” you scoff slightly.

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

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

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

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

White hair… Lovely blue eyes…

Your fiance who refused to be yours.

Gojo Satoru.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your eyes widened.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No, absolutely not,” Satoru scoffed.

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

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

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

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

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

“Essays?”

“Yeah!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Maybe I would.”

��─── ୨ৎ ────

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What? No, it’s alright—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s not that far,” you nodded.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No,” you snapped, and she giggled.

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

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

You hesitated. “Satoru,” you muttered.

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

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

“What does that even mean?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And the second?” You frowned thoughtfully.

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

Like the finest treasure? The answer was simple.

But not the one you wanted.

Not who you craved.

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

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

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

──── ୨ৎ ────

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You couldn’t reply to that.

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

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

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

“Then?”

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

“What?!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I cannot interview that man.”

“Why not?”

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

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

Uh oh.

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

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

“No, sir! I’ll do it.”

“Are you sure? You don’t have to.”

“Yes I do,” you gritted your teeth.

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

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

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

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

“What? You ate my last mochi?”

Satoru gulped, and you groaned.

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

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

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

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

“No.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fucking—

“Do you even want this job?”

“I do,” he said simply.

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

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

“Huh?”

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

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

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

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

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

──── ୨ৎ ────

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

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

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

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

So cute.

No, fuck, what the fuck are you thinking?

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

You don’t even belong in this house!

We’re not kids forever, you know.

The two people I trust the most in this world!

Nothing more. Nothing less.

“Are you oka—?”

“Why are you here, Satoru?”

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

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

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

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

“Stop.”

You did.

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

“Is that all you regret?” You asked.

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

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

“Naoya?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Of course.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Wait—” Naoya protested.

“Hey—” Satoru stepped forward.

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

──── ୨ৎ ────

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

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

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

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

Just who should you love?

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

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

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

“Finally decided to get a break?”

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

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

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

“Hm?”

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

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

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

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

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

“I said ‘take your time’, didn’t I?”

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

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

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

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

“But I’m scared,” you croaked out.

“Scared?”

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

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

You nodded slightly.

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

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

──── ୨ৎ ────

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You groaned aloud.

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

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

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

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

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

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

You remembered the scenario all too well.

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

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

Satoru Gojo.

You didn’t even have to look up.

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

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

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

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

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

“Don’t touch that!”

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

“And what’s that supposed to mean?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Showing off, huh?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What the—?”

“Language.”

“—hell”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“About what?” You asked curiously.

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

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

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

“There it is,” you smiled.

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

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

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

──── ୨ৎ ────

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What the hell?

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

Just what has this girl been through?

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

Something was not right.

──── ୨ৎ ────

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

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

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

You huffed and began scribbling on fresh parchment once more.

Dear Shoko,

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

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

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

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

With love and exasperation, Your favourite patient

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

Dear Suguru,

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

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

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

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

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

Yours, Your favourite troublemaker

──── ୨ৎ ────

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

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

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

“Hm?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

──── ୨ৎ ────

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

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

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

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

“Shut up. Now where’s the oak tree?”

“Out?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sh-Shoko?”

“Duh.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Excuse me? I am always important.”

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

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

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

“Shoko, you’re a genius.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“The girl, please,” you deadpanned.

The elders blinked. “Why the girl?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Owie, that hurt.”

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

“Cheers!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Excuse me?”

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

You nudged his arm, rolling your eyes.

“You’re impossible.”

“And yet, you’re still here.”

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

“...You okay?” You asked softly.

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

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

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

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

“You’re the only person I love.”

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

“Do you feel that?”

Yes.

I feel the love.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Ten minutes. I’m trying to behave.”

“You? Behave? That’s new.”

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

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

“Satoru — people are watching!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Do you ever get tired of flirting?”

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

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

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

“Maybe I just like the view.”

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

“That is not what I meant.”

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

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

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

You closed your eyes, parting your lips.

A sister.

No, that was a lie.

He loved you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Unbelievable,” you read his lips.

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

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

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

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

“You didn’t ask,” you said flatly.

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

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

“Jealous much?” You teased him.

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

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

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

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

“Yeah, yeah. Keep telling yourself that.”

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

“You didn’t answer me earlier.”

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

“You didn't ask.”

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

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

“You know what?”

“Love me like you did?”

Your feet stopped.

Did you?

Or more than that, should you?

“Is it bad if I do?”

“No, not bad at all,” he smiled.

“Satoru.”

“Hm?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I don’t know.”

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

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

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

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

Something you recall seeing in your own eyes.

Three years ago.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I can’t do this anymore.”

──── ୨ৎ ────

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

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

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

“Mistake?”

“By not saying no to Naoya right away?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“We need to talk.”

“What?”

“I said we need to talk.”

You shrugged and nodded, signalling her to begin speaking.

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

“Maki, I—”

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

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

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

You called her gently. “Maki…”

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

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

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

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

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

──── ୨ৎ ────

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Why did you remember the worst moments of your life?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’ll never escape me, little one.”

Beat.

Did he know?

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

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

You didn’t trust it one bit.

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

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

“You don’t have the Gojo surname.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Because I’m not one of them.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your half-sister.

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

Sister?

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

Your blood.

The Kamo blood.

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

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

“No. I won’t,” you responded firmly.

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

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

Almost.

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

You paused outside the study, hearing low voices.

“...I know I failed you, Satoru.”

Your breath caught. That was Satoru’s father.

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

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

There was a heavy silence.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Another pause, this one heavy with unspoken words.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Who are you?” You immediately asked.

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

“I–It’s me, Princess!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Kamo clan?

Of course, it’s them.

It’s always them.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And the Kamo clan was behind it.

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

Why couldn’t they just leave you alone?

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

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

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

“Please, I—”

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

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

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

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

──── ୨ৎ ────

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

Your father was dying.

And that was going to break you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What about him?”

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

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

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

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

“Mother,” you whisper.

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

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

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

“But what do we do now?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What?”

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

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

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

“Naoya,” he spat venomously.

You blinked, utterly confused. “Naoya?”

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

“What about Naoya?”

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

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

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

“That we didn’t what?” you whispered.

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

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

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

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

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

“Satoru—”

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

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

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

──── ୨ৎ ────

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What are you doing in here?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“To my dearest child,

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That’s a lie,” he said flatly.

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

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

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

And Satoru.

Satoru’s eyes flicked to you briefly before continuing.

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

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

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

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

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

“Satoru!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

──── ୨ৎ ────

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misswynters · 2 days ago

Text

Innocent

short drabble

featuring. ambessa x princess!reader

requested by anon

a/n. a short drabble in honor of the new league cinematic video. (not proofread)

Whispers followed you wherever you went, delicate and sweet like the trailing ribbons of your pastel gown. A princess from a distant land, they called you, with eyes like morning dew and a smile so radiant it could disarm even the most hardened souls. You walked beside Ambessa Medarda as you entered Piltover’s council chamber, her imposing presence drawing wary glances and tightened jaws. But you, oh, you were such the opposite compared to her with your delicate hands grazing the edge of the table as you curtsied. The softness of your voice weaving through the room like silk.

They couldn’t understand it. What was someone like you, someone that was the vision of elegance, doing at the side of a woman like Ambessa? A warlord who ruthless and cunning, with a reputation for crushing anything that stood in her way. You looked out of place at her side, like a butterfly perched on the shoulder of a lion. But appearances, as Ambessa had taught you, were the first weapon in your arsenal.

“Your Highness,” one of the councilmen greeted, his tone dripping with condescension as he rose from his chair. “It is truly an honor to have such a distinguished guest among us.” His gaze lingered a moment too long on your soft hair and the glimmering jewels that adorned your wrists. You smiled, tilting your head ever so slightly.

“Thank you, my lord,” you said, your voice so sweet it bordered on saccharine. “I must confess, I find Piltover to be… overwhelming. Such brilliance and innovation, but so complex. I hardly know where to begin.” You laughed softly, the sound drawing smiles from more than one member of the room. Ambessa remained silent beside you, her sharp gaze watching, as you worked your magic on the men.

“You need not worry, Princess,” another councilman intersected, his voice laced with eagerness and a touch of pride. “We are more than happy to guide you through anything you wish to understand. Perhaps… I could offer you a private tour of the academy?” His tone was almost gallant, but the hunger in his eyes was unmistakable.

Your cheeks flushed, as you clasped your hands together. “That is so kind of you, my lord,” you said, casting your gaze downward shyly before glancing back up through your lashes. “I wouldn’t want to impose, but I’ve always been so fascinated by Piltover’s Hextech. Perhaps I could ask you a few questions later? I wouldn’t want to take up too much of your time.”

Ambessa fought the smirk tugging at her lips, her arms crossed as she leaned back against the far wall. You were perfect. Every tilt of your head, every soft-spoken word was calculated to pull strings you weren’t even sure the men knew they had.

The council meeting proceeded, but you hardly paid attention to the broader discussions. Instead, you focused on planting seeds into the minds of the men. Compliments so subtle they felt like afterthoughts, questions that seemed harmless but dug at the roots of Piltover’s inner circle. By the time the meeting was over, you had gathered more than enough information to satisfy Ambessa’s expectations.

As the members filtered out, one lingered, his gaze fixed on you. “Princess,” he began, a nervous chuckle escaping him. “I couldn’t help but notice your… curiosity earlier. If you truly wish to learn more about Hextech, I could arrange a demonstration for you. Something private, of course, so you could see its full potential.”

Your lips curved into a soft smile, even as the words you spoke were sharp enough to cut. “You are too kind, my lord,” you murmured, stepping closer until you were just within his space. “I would love that. Perhaps tomorrow evening?”

The man nodded eagerly, his face alight with excitement as he stumbled over his words. Ambessa cleared her throat, her presence suddenly oppressive as she stepped forward. “Her Highness will have a full schedule,” she said, her voice like the edge of a blade. “But I’m sure she’ll find time for your… demonstration.”

As the man hurried off, you turned to Ambessa, your expression dropping the moment he was out of sight. “Amateur,” you muttered under your breath, your sweet demeanor melting into something sharper. Ambessa chuckled, resting a hand on your shoulder.

“You’ve done well,” she said, her voice low and approving. “They’re all wrapped around your little finger.”

You looked up at her, a small smirk playing on your lips. “Of course they are,” you replied, your tone light but edged with pride.

Later, as you sat on the edge of the bed in Ambessa’s quarters, she watched you from her seat by the fire. You were still the picture of sweetness in your pink nightgown, your hair falling in over your shoulders, but she knew better. Beneath that façade was a mind as sharp as any blade she wielded.

“You were perfect today,” she said finally, her voice breaking the silence. You turned to her, your smile genuine this time as you padded over to her chair.

“Only because you taught me,” you said softly, kneeling at her feet. Ambessa reached out, her rough hand brushing against your cheek, her touch surprisingly tender.

“Couldn’t be prouder,” she murmured, her voice softer than you’d ever heard it. You leaned into her touch, your eyes closing as a contented smile spread across your lips.

Innocence was your mask, manipulation your weapon, and loyalty to Ambessa the thread that bound it all together. You were exactly what she had shaped you to be. It was easy to manipulate others when they weren’t expecting it from a person with such a sweet demeanor. Clearly you proved them wrong, well eventually.

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#arcane #ambessa x reader #ambessa x you #ambessa #ambessa medarda #arcane ambessa #ambessa arcane #ambessa league of legends #arcane angst #arcane fic #arcane drabbles #arcane imagine #arcane x reader #arcane drabble #arcane writing #arcane x gender neutral reader #arcane x female reader #arcane masterlist

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potatoplace · 2 days ago

Text

A Place In This World

The Afterthought: Chapter 5 | series masterlist

ACOTAR x Archeron!Reader

chapter 4 | chapter 6 | ACOTAR x reader masterlist

Story Summary: Working at Sevenda's is a welcome escape from the River House, where you've become little more than a ghost after Starfall.

Warnings: toxic family, depression, self deprecating thoughts (none of them are too terrible this chapter)

Words: ~8.4k

Author's Note: I never seem to get as far in the plot as I want to in every update... This chapter isn't too crazy exciting, but there's some sweet moments and a little bit of angst with the sisters. I hope you all enjoy this update! Title is of course from Miss Swift 🫶

18+ only pls

🤍🤍💔🤍🤍

Your neck was stiff when you came to, the beginnings of the morning sun spilling across your face.

The ground outside was glistening with a fresh layer of snow, nearly untouched at this time in the morning. It seemed even the early risers had chosen to sleep in today, after the revelry of Starfall last night.

You, however, wouldn't stay asleep any longer. Not with the cold numbness slithering through your chest, curling itself around your heart, your lungs, your ribs. An absent hand came to rub at your chest, to bring some semblance of life into your hollow heart once more.

No such luck.

A glance at the clock that had recently been placed above your bedroom door told you that it was half past six.

That gave you two and a half hours to bathe, drink tea, possibly eat something, dress, and make your way to Sevenda's.

You did just that, sinking down into hot water, a sigh leaving your lips as your body soaked in the heat. You could almost pretend you felt alive.

After forcing yourself from the bath, you dressed in a simple, dark green dress. It was made of cozy wool, and the long sleeves were easily pushed up to make whatever work Sevenda would give you easier. It fit you loosely and reached to just above the tops of your feet, something you were grateful for after last night.

The feel of all those males' eyes on you... It was unsettling then, and unsettling to think about now. You could hardly imagine wanting to be looked at like that by someone you actually liked, let alone by strangers... How could Feyre stand it? How could anyone stand it? You supposed each person was different...

You shook your head, clearing those thoughts away. No need to contemplate how inexperienced you are in the romantic world, despite what Nesta claims.

Quietly, you crept downstairs, keeping an ear out for anyone who might be awake, teapot in hand. Thankfully, no one was in the kitchen yet, and you were able to prepare a pot of tea with no interruptions. Safely ensconced in your room again, you sipped at the lovely orange and cinnamon tea you had made.

As you stared out at the still-sleeping city, your mind drifted to last night. How Feyre had had no time for you, and Mor hadn't appeared while you had been in the House of Wind. Feyre had been crowded by the citizens of her city, that was understandable... Mor not showing up worried you though, but you were sure there was an explanation. And your other sisters and their mates, well, you hadn't believed they would interact with you anyways.

Azriel had been... Surprising. Caring. Sweet, almost. Him noticing that you had left wasn't something you had even considered, with how close he had been with the pretty redheaded friend of Nesta's. And... You had become accustomed to not having your absence noticed.

Your eyes closed for a moment, a wave of sadness washing over you.

You still felt so alone.

The minutes continued ticking past as you stared blankly out the window, sipping on your tea when you remembered to.

Soon enough, it was fifteen minutes until nine, and you peeled yourself out of the armchair. Boots first, then the short cloak, scarf, and mittens Azriel had given you for Solstice- also the ones that he had draped around you last night in the cold.

You wondered how he had gotten them...

You just barely remembered to grab the cup that Sevenda had lent to you before you snuck out of the River House, into the snowy city.

The walk to Sevenda's was peaceful, quiet. Most citizens of Velaris seemed to still be sleeping, and the blanket of snow on the ground muffled everything. The silence of the normally bustling city matched the feeling in your heart.

Empty. Cold. Quiet.

Sevenda's was warm already, the smell of spices lingering pleasantly in the air when you pushed your way in through the door.

"Ah, Y/N! Lovely to see that you decided to come in," Sevenda's warm voice greeted you from the left, a hand waved in greeting.

"It's nice to see you too, Sevenda. And thank you, again. I really appreciate the offer. I brought back your cup," you added, raising your hand to show it.

"Thank you, dear," Sevenda said, taking said cup from your hands. "Would you like to get started?"

You nodded your head, and let the fae lead you to the back of the restaurant, into the kitchens. It was large, with multiple shiny, silver stoves along the back wall, three matching cold boxes, a wall completely taken up by pots, pans, anything that you would need to cook. There was also counter space galore, with two other fae already working dough in the far corner.

"For today, I'm going to see how you do with prep work, mainly with fruits, vegetables, and meats. If you do well, I'll keep you on full time, if you'd like," Sevenda said, her words sparking a bit of hope in your chest.

Chopping, dicing, cutting. You could do that.

"That sounds perfect, Sevenda. Thank you for giving me this chance."

Sevenda smiled warmly at you, and placed a gentle hand on your shoulder. "Of course, dear. Now... Are you feeling alright?" She asked more quietly, a concerned look in her eyes.

You nodded. Even though you weren't, you didn't want to rehash last night's events. "Yes, thank you." You even shot her a smile that you hoped was at least half-convincing, relieved when she returned the expression. "What should I start with?"

"First, you'll need an apron and to wash your hands," Sevenda said, leading you to the large sink, which conviently had a plethora of aprons hanging on hooks next to it.

You did as she asked, scrubbing your hands under hot water halfway up your forearm, dress sleeves already pushed up to your elbows. You tied a dark blue apron around your neck and waist, and faced Sevenda, who was pulling a cutting board from a cabinet. You noted the location, wanting to be as useful as possible as often as possible.

"I'll start you off by demonstrating how I like everything to be cut, and you'll do the same thing right after. I know it will be a lot to take in, but most of it is fairly simple. Let me know if you have any questions, alright?"

"Alright," you said resolutely, nodding your head.

The hours passed quickly, filled with you absorbing the information that Sevenda was feeding you through her demonstrations, taking in every angle that she used the knife at. You did decently, your cuts a bit clumsier than Sevenda's but still accurate enough. She was kinda, reassuring you that in time, you'd gain confidence and surety in your movements.

It was lovely.

Feeling needed. Feeling useful. You had entirely forgotten how that felt over the last two years, being the extra sister with no magic to help in a way that someone else couldn't.

By the time your shift was finished, Sevenda had pulled you aside to speak with you, anxiety building in your gut even as she smiled warmly at you.

"I'd like to hire you on immediately, full-time if you'd like," Sevenda offered, a twinkle in her eyes. "You've already got the basics down, and you're on track to catch up with my other prep cooks so long as you keep at it with the same enthusiasm you showed today. So... Would you like to have a job?"

A smile- a true, unburdened smile spread over your lips. "I'd love to, Sevenda. Thank you so, so much for this opportunity."

"Thank you for solving my dilemma of hiring a new prep cook, Y/N! Now, do you have an account with the Bank of Velaris already?"

You thought for a moment before answering. "I do... But it's the one that Rhys and Feyre set up for me. Would I be able to make a new account?"

You still felt like such a child, knowing so little about how the city you lived in worked. You had spent so long wishing and longing to leave that you'd hardly taken the time to learn about Velaris. Seeing how you were stuck here, likely permanently... The thought sent a pang of sickness to your stomach. But still, since you were stuck here, you might as well start learning about the city in which you will die.

"I'm sure that could be set up... Would you like any help with it?" Sevenda asked.

"That would be amazing, but you don't have to," you said, hoping that she didn't feel forced to help you, after your breakdown last night.

"Oh, nonsense, I'd love to help you Y/N. We can go in a few minutes, I just have a few more questions for you. Now... Would you like to work five or six days a week?"

That was an easy choice. "Six days would be best, I think." Less time in that house, waiting to be left out of events and dinner conversations.

"Alright, and if you ever want to go down to five days, just let me know and we can work something out. Do you have a specific day that you'd like off?" You shook your head. "Would Mondays be fine with you?"

"Mondays would be just fine," you replied. "Do you..." You paused, rolling the question over in your head. "Do you know of any apartments for rent? You don't have to answer, of course, I just thought I would ask," you said quickly, already regretting the question.

Sevenda merely smiled at you. "I do know of a few close by. Once you have a week or two of pay in your account, we could go look at a few sometime, if you'd like?"

You nodded quickly. "That would be amazing, Sevenda. Did you have any other questions for me?"

Sevenda closed her eyes for a moment before fixing them on you once more. "None that I can think of at the moment, but you'll be back tomorrow in case I forgot anything. Now, let's go get you a personal bank account," she said cheerily, rising from the table you had sat at. You followed her lead, letting her take you to the large, white marble building that had a large matching sign with, presumably, its name written in the large gold lettering on it.

Making an account was easy enough, and within the hour you had a small metal card, magically linked to your bank account in hand, your first day of pay already deposited by Sevenda.

You walked back to her restaurant with her, parting with a brief hug, initiated by Sevenda.

"I'll see you in the morning, Sevenda," you said, the words repeated back to you by the kind, chocolate eyed fae.

And then your legs carried you without thinking, back to the River House. The snow had melted just slightly, and was significantly more trampled than when you had arrived this morning. The sun was nearly set already, casting a pretty orangey-pink glow over the city.

Pretty.

The River House was warm when you entered, and thankfully there was no boisterous laughter coming from the living or dining rooms.

A part of you still longed for someone to ask where you were, what you had been doing all day.

But you knew better by now. And you were proven correct when no one came to greet you, even while you made a small dinner of rice with grilled vegetables. You even ate in the dining room, a rarity for you in the past months, the tiniest part of you hoping that Feyre might come in to talk with you. Or that Mor would show up, and you could spend part of the evening together.

Neither happened, and soon enough you were back in your room, a fresh pot of tea in hand, soothing, calming lavender and chamomile again.

You had enjoyed your day at work, but it had exhausted you. All you wanted at the moment was to fall asleep, but you chose to do something else before crawling into your makeshift bed in the tub tonight.

You would try to read. With your gift from the twins in hand, you pulled the cookbook that Nesta had gifted you, filled with lovely illustrations of soups and stews from all corners of Prythian.

Slowly, you let the magnifying glass read out the title a few times, your brain trying to make sense of the letters on the cover turning into the words you were hearing. It was embarrassing, how long it took you to be able to understand a sentence, even with it being read aloud to you. Heat rushed to your face, even with no one in the room to witness your shortcomings.

You tried reading a recipe, going one word at a time with the glass. That... Sort of worked, though it was slow going. And you felt like the only reason you were mildly successful was that the words were being read aloud to you.

How pathetic.

You sighed heavily before draining your last cup of tea and shutting the recipe book. That was enough of disappointing yourself for the night.

You stripped yourself of the dress you'd donned the morning, changing into a soft, long sleeved white cotton sleep dress that met the skin of your ankles, swishing softly against them with each step.

Sleep came easily to you that night, your body tired from doing so much work when it had grown accustomed to sleeping all day and rarely moving. It was a pleasant kind of tired, though, letting you drift into a peaceful sleep.

The next morning went much the same, with you rising before the sun to bathe and have a soothing pot of tea. Work flew by, with you completely focused on improving your knife skills for the seven hours you were there, determined to not let Sevenda down.

Before you knew it, you'd already worked three days in Sevenda's homey restaurant, settling in comfortably, even with the other fae you now worked with. Josi and Torma were the other two prep cooks, and both of them had been warm and welcoming to you. Sevenda's sous chef, Wren, had been a little less friendly, but you'd noticed that he was like that with everyone except Sevenda. He wasn't rude, or anything, just quieter.

It was on your fourth morning of work, a Saturday, that your routine was interrupted.

Azriel was in the kitchen, patiently watching a pot of oatmeal cook, shadows playing around his wings and over his shoulders, a couple of them breaking away to crawl up to his ears.

"Good morning," you said quietly, going to the cupboard that housed the kettle.

"Good morning, Y/N. You're up early," Azriel remarked in a neutral tone, neither judging nor questioning.

"Mm, thought I'd have a cup of tea before everyone else was buzzing around..." You said, feeling mildly guilty that you hadn't told him the full truth. You set to filling the water and setting it on the burner next to the one Azriel was using, then turned to grab your teapot. "Would you like a cup?" You asked before you could stop yourself and consider the possibility of being rejected, even for a simple cup of tea.

"I would very much, Y/N, thank you. Would you like some oatmeal? I'm afraid I've made too much..." Azriel said softly, a tiny frown on his face as he stared at the pot before him.

A small smile grew on your face at his reaction. "That would be nice, thank you." You pulled two of your teacups out of the cupboard. A few minutes later, the two of you were sat on stools at the kitchen island, a bowl of oatmeal and a cup of tea in front of each of you. The oatmeal was delicious, flavored with cinnamon and brown sugar, which paired well with the apple cinnamon tea you had brewed.

You ate in a comfortable silence, occasionally stifling a giggle when a shadow brushed over you, their cool touch tickling the back of your neck and your ankles. Curious little things...

Soon enough, though, it was time for you to depart from the River House, and return to the one place that you felt wanted in this city. Azriel had finished his breakfast as well, so you grabbed his dishes, ignoring his protests in favor of washing them.

"You don't have to do that, you know."

You rolled your eyes playfully, even though he couldn't see your expression. "I know that, I wanted to." Bowls, cups, silverware were all placed in the dish rack, clean and shiny from the water dripping off of them. Once that was finished, you returned to your room for a brief moment to grab your scarf and hat, and when you returned downstairs Azriel was lingering near the front door.

"Going somewhere?" Azriel asked neutrally, only a bit of curiosity in his tone.

You blinked at him once, twice. Strange, that it would be him who would know that you were employed first. "Yes, I'm going to work," you said plainly, hoping that his neutrality would continue. While you wanted your sisters to know... You wanted them to find out because they paid attention, not because Azriel had.

"Oh? Could I walk you there?" His question caught you off guard- if anything, you had anticipated him asking if Feyre or Rhys knew or had approved of the job. In your surprise, you nodded in agreement, and moments later the two of you were out the door, walking through the fresh layer of snow that had fallen overnight. You noticed a few of his shadows moving in front of you, pushing some of the snow from your path.

Cute.

"How long have you been working?" Azriel asked from your right, following the path you were taking.

"Just a few days, so far," you replied, trying to give the minimum information so you wouldn't bore him... Starting a new job was hardly an accomplishment for a fae of his age.

"Are you liking it?"

You nodded immediately. "I'm loving it already, working with food is probably the most natural choice I could have made." Too many words...

"That's wonderful, Y/N. It's nice to see you smile again," Azriel said softly, drawing your eyes to him. He was wearing a small smile on his lips, one that you realized matched your expression. A light flush spread over your cheeks- was your happiness always so obvious?

"It's nice to feel like smiling again..." You said quietly, more to the air around you than Azriel himself.

Sevenda's was in sight now, and you slowed your pace. While Azriel may just be being nice... He was still being nice to you. And having someone be kind to you was something you craved nearly every second of every day, so you wanted to savor it, even if it was selfish.

"Do..." Azriel paused, as if he was considering his words carefully. "Does Feyre know that you're working? She hasn't mentioned it."

"Uhm... No, I haven't told anyone yet," you admitted.

You saw Azriel nod his head in your peripheral, and you hoped it was one of understanding.

"Do you want them to know?"

You hesitated. "If you're asking if you can tell them... I'd rather you not."

Another nod as you approached the door to Sevenda's, stopping in front of it. "I won't tell them, then. Sevenda's, hmm?" You bobbed your head in confirmation. "That's good, she's a great boss from everything I've heard."

"She's amazing, if I can be honest," you said, gratitude in your voice. And she was. She had been so kind to you, and so helpful.

"I'm glad, Y/N," Azriel said, his voice the warmest that you had ever heard from him. "I'll let you get inside. Have a good shift."

"Thank you, Azriel. Have a good day," you said, waving goodbye to him before entering the warm restaurant, a smile on your face.

Your day passed quickly, filled with the delicious smell of spices and fresh cut vegetables, the sounds of sizzling meats and bubbling stews. This job at Sevenda's was truly a blessing, distracting both your mind and body as you listened to the friendly chatter between your coworkers and focused on what you were doing.

The River House sounded empty when you returned, completely devoid of sound. No running water, or voices in the living room. The entire night, you saw no one, not even Nuala or Cerridwen. You even spent a few minutes sipping tea in the living room - though you left quickly, feeling out of place even while alone - hoping to see Feyre for a moment. You hadn't seen her since Starfall, and... You wanted to see her. You also would have been able to ask her where Mor was, but alas, the question would have to wait.

The next evening, after your final day before having a day off, you saw Feyre for the first time in five days. She was glowing with happiness, both naturally and from the magic you knew she had gotten from... One of the High Lords - you still weren't sure which.

"Y/N! Come, sit with me for a little bit," Feyre said, dragging you onto the couch in the living room with her. You had just barely gotten your boots and scarf off before she met you in the entryway. "I feel like I haven't seen you in forever."

"It has been a bit," you agreed, settling in beside her. You glanced around, noting that Nesta and Elain were seated next to each other on the love seat, angry stares trained on you.

At least they weren't glaring yet...?

"So, how have you been?" Feyre asked you, drawing your attention away from your other sisters and back to her.

"I've been fine, Fey. Just..." You debated telling her about your job. That would also mean Nesta and Elain knowing... But... You wanted Feyre to know. "I've been... I've been working."

Nesta scoffed from where she was seated, whispering something to Elain. You frowned. What problem could she possibly have with you having a job?

"Really?" Feyre asked skeptically. "You... Where are you working?"

Her tone, the sheer disbelief in her voice had you regretting ever opening your mouth. Being honest was obviously not a good choice for you anymore. "At Sevenda's restaurant..." You said quietly, met with a dainty snort from Elain. Heat rushed to your face, especially when Feyre frowned at you, as though she didn't believe you.

"Really? That's... That's really nice, Y/N. I'm happy for you," Feyre said with a strained smile. You didn't believe her for a second.

Still... "Thank you, Feyre. What about you? How have you been feeling?"

"Tired," Feyre moaned dramatically, a hand on her forehead. "The little one seems to be draining all of my energy, I've had to start eating double what I normally do just to feel like I can function."

"Maybe you can stop by Sevenda's when Y/N is working," Nesta suggested in a snarky tone, causing Elain to giggle into her hand. "If she even works there... What Sevenda would need with you, I have no idea."

Tears pricked at your eyes, though you fought them. Why were they so mean to you?

Feyre glared at Nesta, but said nothing in your defense.

She probably agreed with Nesta's words.

"I'm sorry that you're feeling so exhausted Feyre. Maybe there's something that could be taken off your plate for a little bit, until you're feeling better?" Another scoff from Nesta.

"I don't think there is, Y/N. It takes a lot to run a court..."

You knew that. Of course you knew that. "Oh... Well, I hope that you feel better soon, then. I'm... I'm going to go take a bath. I'll see you later?"

Feyre nodded. "I'll see you later. At dinner?"

There was no way in hell you would be showing at dinner tonight. "Maybe," you said, standing from your place next to her. You made your way out of the living room, ignoring Nesta and Elain's glares, up the stairs and into your room.

Happy. You had been happy when you returned home. You were proud of the fact that you had gotten a job. And yet the three people that should have cared, should have shared in your happiness and pride? They couldn't care less. They didn't even believe you.

That only served to solidify your choice to leave this cursed house as soon as you could, to continue in your plan to have your own living space. And, of course, it put tears on your cheeks, on the blanket that you curled into as you laid in the bathtub.

🤍🤍💖🤍🤍

In your first three weeks of work, you never saw Mor. You did, however, receive a letter from her on your first day off, read to you by the glass the twins had gifted you. She had apologized profusely for not showing up to Starfall, though she had a good reason. The citizens of the Hewn City had demanded to have a member of the High Lord's Inner Circle stay with them through the celebration, and as the only one already there, that duty had fallen to her. And in the week since, she had been constantly fighting with Keir over the upcoming election that was planned, hardly having a moment to herself.

Which was why the letter had taken so long to be written.

You felt horrible for having thought she had abandoned you, though you knew there was a reason you had jumped to such a conclusion.

Every week since then, Mor had managed to find the time to write you a letter, each one asking about how you had been, informing you of the lastest bullshit her father had put her through. You looked forward to each letter from her, but wished that you could see her in person, or at least write a letter in response. You missed your friend. According to her most recent letter, the one that had arrived two days ago, she would be returning to Velaris for a few days in the next week.

You were excited to see her again, but more than that, you were excited to move into your apartment today.

Sevenda had shown you to two different available apartments last week, and on Monday you had signed your lease. The building was only a couple of blocks away from Sevenda's, and it was a cute little place on the third floor, with a balcony that had a decent view of the mouth of the Sidra and the harbor. You already knew that you would be taking your tea on it once the weather had warmed, the view was too amazing to pass up an opportunity to look over.

The walls inside had already been done in a shade of light pink the day before, the cabinets of the kitchen coated in a pale lavender, a move in gift from your new landlord. It was a small space, that was true. Besides the bathroom and built in closet, the apartment was one large room, with no walls separating the living room from the kitchen, the kitchen from the bedroom.

But you didn't mind.

Because it was yours.

And truly, how much space did you need? There would be enough room to have a small dining table, a loveseat and a couple of armchairs in front of the fireplace - which you had been absolutely delighted to see - and a large bed. You could even put up screens or curtains to partition off your bedroom, if you felt like it.

The possibilities felt endless as you lugged your small amount of belongings over to your new place, bursting at the seams with happiness.

Today, Sevenda had given you the day off so that you could move in, though you had tried to insist that you wouldn't need the whole day. Still, she had made it clear that you deserved the day to settle in and purchase whatever you needed, even going as far to give you a week of advanced pay.

Moving your belongings took you less than an hour, even in the snow, and only three separate trips between the River House and your apartment. The presents you had recieved for your birthday and Solstice, the clothing that you couldn't part with, skincare items, and your hairpin all went with you, but everything else in your old room stayed.

You had decided against informing anyone of your move, choosing instead to quietly remove your things. If they truly cared about you, they would notice your absence soon.

If they didn't... You would deal with that if it came.

By midday, you were shopping in the Palace of Hoof and Leaf, on the hunt for cookware. You already had the wonderful measuring cups and spoons that Nuala and Cerridwen had gifted you, as well as your tea set from Azriel, but you would need a bit more than that to be able to cook at home.

That lead to you entering a lovely little shop, filled to the brim with pots, pans, and cooking utensils in every color of the rainbow.

For now, you only bought one frying pan and one pot with a lid, both in a shade of pink that matched your measuring cups. You also purchased a set of three mixing bowls in the same shade, made of a light but durable clay. A spatula, wooden spoon, whisk, and a set of silverware also came home with you, along with a few cleaning supplies that the store happened to carry, but anything else could wait for now.

You carried your bounty home, arms sagging under the weight of your purchases as you climbed the stairs to your apartment. Everything was put away in a matter of minutes, and you allowed yourself to relax on the floor for a bit, letting your arms flop out to the sides.

You could hardly believe it... A smile crept across your face as you lay on the floor of your own apartment, that you had earned the money for. You had done this for yourself, all on your own.

Once your arms felt less weak and tired, you sat up and looked around the room. It was... Fairly barren. Your pink bedding set and blanket from Mor were in the far right corner of the apartment, the box of your clothing placed next to it. Near the door to the bathroom you had placed your box of toiletries, and in the kitchen you had already stacked your cookbooks and teas on the counter and placed your dishes in the cupboards.

You needed some kind of furniture tonight, if you could manage to find something your weak arms could carry home.

And towels! How had your forgotten about towels? Oh- and food, you would need something at least for tonight.

You let out a breath. Maybe Sevenda was right, that you would need most of the day to get settled. You got up after another moment and put your boots back on, along with your hat and scarf.

A trip to the Palace of Thread and Jewels provided you with the towels you needed, in an assortment of pastel shades and sizes, as well as a fluffy purple bath mat. You even remembered to pick out two fluffy pillows as well, just in case you slept on the floor or in the tub tonight. As you were leaving the Palace, you couldn't help but pick out a soft, sky blue blanket one of the outdoor stalls, the green skinned fae bidding you farewell with a kind smile. You walked home, snow beginning to fall just before you entered the building.

You deposited your bags on the floor to the left of your front door, and set down the stairs immediately after locking up. Before the snow started to accumulate, you wanted to get a chair or something so that you would have a place to sleep for the night. If you couldn't find anything... Well, the bathtub looked to be the same size as the one in the River House.

When you had been out earlier, you thought you had spotted a second hand store, filled with mismatched furniture. You retraced your steps, and found it to be in the middle of the Palace of Thread and Jewels.

Inside, it was cluttered, with small paths leading through the building. It was near the back of the store that you found something you might like- a tall backed, wooden chair with a pink velvet cushion and backing, the legs of the chair curved and elegant.

Why would someone ever part ways with this?

You continued to the back of the store, finding a pale, short fae male sitting behind a counter, reading a book.

"Hi, I'd, uhm... I'd like to buy a chair that you have?" You asked shyly.

"Which one?" He asked, without looking up from his book.

"The uh. The wooden chair with pink velvet on it."

"Fifty gold marks," the male said shortly, a hand extending to take your bank card and press it to his ledger, all while continuing to read. He handed it back a moment later. "Have a good day, miss."

"Thank you," you said quietly before leaving the counter, going to collect the chair into your arms.

The walk home was slow going, the chair decidedly too big for you to comfortably carry for more than a few steps at a time. But still, you made it, dragging the piece of furniture up the stairs and through your door. You managed to lug it in front of the fireplace, settling into it for a moment.

You almost decided to skip getting ingredients for dinner... But your stomach rumbled in protest, at the thought of continuing to neglect your health in favor of avoiding discomfort. So instead, you pulled yourself from your new chair, then went back down the stairs and into the snowy city one last time today.

The Palace of Hoof and Leaf was a bit further than the Palace of Bone and Salt, but you knew where to find what you were planning to cook for dinner. It was easy enough to find rice, chicken, zucchini, broccoli, and a small set of spices, a large enough selection to satisfy you for at least your first month. Snow had begun to fall heavily while you had been in and out of shops, already covering the tracks that had been on the bridge when you had crossed it earlier, and when you finally made it up the stairs and through your front door, you were feeling tired.

Tired enough that for the moment, you placed the chicken in your cold box then walked over your chair, and plopped down.

You would consider today a success, even with how tired you now were. After all, you were tired in your chair, in your apartment.

🤍🤍💙🤍🤍

Two days after you moved, you had an unexpected knock on your door, just a few minutes after you returned home from work.

Perhaps it was finally Feyre, realizing that you had moved.

You were proven wrong when you opened the door, however, to see Azriel standing before you, a cloth bag filled to the brim with little jars.

"I- Hello," you said, surprised at him being here, even if he had taken to walking you to work on the mornings he was in town. "Can I- Can I help you?"

"I just returned from Illyria, only to find one of my shadows to be very frantic over the sudden emptiness of your room," Azriel said, though there was no accusation in his tone. "And after I spoke with Sevenda, she... She directed me here. I hope that's alright?"

You were even more surprised by the efforts he had gone to to find you, than his presence at this point. "That's fine, Azriel. Was there a reason you wanted to see me?"

"I... Yes," Azriel said, somewhat shyly, and you swore that you almost saw a flush covering his cheeks. "You never did tell me which teas you enjoyed, so I brought you a jar of each. I thought you might like to have a bit more, now that you're living on your own."

That was... Incredibly sweet of him to do. You were running low on your tea stash at the moment, and knowing that he'd thought of you...

Don't get any feelings, or hints of feelings, you reminded yourself. Humans and fae don't belong together, no matter how kind and attractive they are.

"Thank you, Azriel," you said, stepping aside to let him through the doorway. It was only polite, after all, to let him in. "I'll take those," you said as you grabbed the bag from his hand, moving into the kitchen to take arrange the little jars on your counter.

"You don't have a bed," Azriel observed from behind you, a hand on your chair, where your blankets were still piled.

"Oh, I'm uhm... I'm still working on that," you said sheepishly, abandoning your task of organizing the jars. Your eyes darted over everything, looking for anything else he could find issue with.

"Let's go solve that, then."

"I- What?" You asked, thoroughly confused. He was offering to go shopping with you...?

"We can go find you a bed today, Y/N. You need something to sleep on, and while a chair is fine for a little bit, it really would be best for you to have a bed," Azriel said simply. You were still staring at him in shock, so he sighed lightly and said, "Think of it as a housewarming gift, Y/N. You can pick out whatever you want, and my shadows will bring it here for you."

"I- But... Why?" You managed to get out, even as you mentally kicked yourself for being so awkward.

Azriel's mouth turned up in the corners at your reaction. "You need a bed, and I'd like to know that you're sleeping comfortably."

"But... Why?" You repeated, still confused.

Azriel sighed and shook his head. "You're my friend, Y/N, I like to know that my friends are well taken care of. And that starts with a good night's sleep, which starts with a bed," he explained as he walked over to your closet, pulling out the scarf and hat that he had gifted you. He wrapped the scarf around your neck and put the hat on your head, lips turning up more as you stood there and let him. "Now get your boots on, unless you really don't want to go."

Your eyes narrowed playfully at him, but you did as he said, slipping your boots on and lacing them up. "Alright... Thank you, Azriel."

His lips turned up into a full smile this time, a beautiful sight on his face. "You're welcome, Y/N. Now, let's get going before it gets too dark."

You let him lead you across the Sidra, to a shop in the Palace of Flame and Steel that specialized in wooden furniture.

"Pick out whichever one you like most," Azriel had told you, with a pointed look telling you that he would know if you tried to pick the least expensive option.

He watched as you went from bed to bed, mattress to mattress trying to find the right combination. You had been in the store for nearly an hour by the time you made your choice, settling on a walnut frame. It had a nice headboard, with little creatures carved into the posts on both sides, a feature that was continued at the corners of the end of the bed. Some of them looked like little cats, a pet that you had always wanted to have but never could afford in the human lands, and when you had been able to, your family had firmly shut the idea down.

For the mattress, you had laid on one that felt like a cloud, supporting your body in a way that you had never experienced. Perhaps... Perhaps Azriel was right, after all.

You felt dreadful, though, as he paid for your new furniture, even as he reassured you that it was a housewarming present and he was more than fine paying double the amount if he had needed to.

He walked you back to your apartment, and, as promised, your new bed was already set up along the back wall, looking extremely inviting even without bedding on it.

"You should let me repay you," you insisted to Azriel, a hand on his forearm stopping him from leaving. "I can't... This is too much," you said.

Azriel's eyes shined with understanding as he read the guilt in your own. "It's okay, you know. To be given things, without the need to reciprocate. But... If you still feel that you need to repay me, I suppose you could make me dinner some time," Azriel suggested.

You narrowed your eyes at him. "Are you sure I can't pay you back?"

He shook his head. "The only payment I will accept is in the form of food, Y/N. Again, this is a housewarming present, it is a gift that I am giving to you of my own free will. I am, however, partial to your cooking, which is why I would accept that as payment."

You sighed, but nodded your head. You would pay him back with food, as often as he liked. "What days are you in the city?"

🤍🤍❣️🤍🤍

It took two more days before Mor was in town, which you found out about two hours into your shift when she burst into Sevenda's, speaking loudly enough that you could hear her in the kitchen.

A moment later Sevenda appeared, your blonde friend in tow.

"Y/N!" Mor exclaimed, pulling you into a hug once you had set down your knife. "Oh, girl, I have missed you so much!"

You squeezed her back tightly, overjoyed to see her again. "I've missed you too, Mor!"

Mor pulled away a moment later, her face serious. "Where are all of your things? I went up to your room in the River House to see you, and none of your stuff is there! Feyre had no idea either..."

A flush spread over your cheeks. "Oh, uhm... I moved out?" You said hesitantly.

Mor blinked at you a few times before a smile slid over her face. "You... Moved out?" She giggled. "And you didn't tell anyone? Was it this morning?"

You shook your head. "No, it was on Wednesday," you admitted softly, turning your gaze to the floor.

"And Feyre didn't... Oh, sweets," Mor cooed, pulling you into another hug and stroking your hair. You pushed her away after a moment, face bright red at being comforted in front of your coworkers.

"It's okay, Mor, really. I've already accepted that they don't notice me," you said, hoping that you had successfully hidden your pain. You may have accepted that your sisters pay you no attention, but it didn't mean your heart didn't hurt.

Mor frowned at you, but accepted your answer for the time being. "Well, when are you off work? I can stop by again, and you can show me your apartment!"

"I'm normally off right around five, you could come back then."

"Sounds like a plan, sweets!" Mor said brightly before leaving the kitchen, waving at you before being shooed out by Sevenda.

You quickly got back to work, determined to make the day pass by quickly.

And it did. The next five hours went by fast, filling you with a feeling of accomplishment as you finished everything Sevenda had asked you to do a few minutes faster than usual. Something as simple as that made your day so much brighter, easier to fight away the feeling of loneliness that followed you most hours of the day.

Mor met you outside as she'd said she would, a shining ray of sunlight even as the sun had begun to set.

"So- I leave town for a few weeks, not that I wanted to," Mor grumbled as you linked arms with her and began to lead her to your apartment. "And when I come back, you've already had a job for three weeks and you've moved into your own apartment? I am so proud of you Y/N."

You blushed at her words, but still allowed yourself to soak them in. "Thank you, Mor. I'm glad that you're okay with it."

Mor frowned. "Why wouldn't I be okay with it? I think it's amazing that you decided to move out, everyone deserves their independence."

You nodded, but your thoughts were on your sisters... What they surely thought of you, leaving without a word... "It's just... I don't know. My sisters... Weren't very supportive of me even having a job, let alone having my own apartment."

"Oh, hon, don't worry about them. I think they're just jealous of you having your own life outside of our little circle. Now, Nesta and Elain... They could certainly use a talking to," Mor hissed. "And Feyre isn't much better, letting them get away with their behavior."

You shook your head. What would they have to be jealous of? Being lonely? Having at most three friends, if you were being generous with the term? "It's fine, Mor, really. I've stopped expecting them to act any certain way, it's just... Easier."

Mor sighed next to you. "I suppose so... Anyways, tell me what's been going on!" Mor said cheerily, sensing your hesitancy to speak about your sisters.

"Well... Not much, beyond the moving out and getting a job. Although..." You thought about Azriel, how you now considered him a friend- and he thought the same of you. "Azriel has been very nice, he brought me some tea blends when he found out I moved. And helped me find a bed."

"Oh, I'm sure he did," Mor said suggestively, wiggling her eyebrows at you. You smacked her arm lightly and shot her as much of a glare as you could muster.

"Not like that Mor!" You exclaimed, blood rushing to your cheeks at her insinuation. "He helped me go to a store and his shadows brought it back to my apartment."

"Oooh," Mor laughed. "Okay, I misunderstood, Y/N. I'm glad that he's been a good friend to you while I've been away."

"I am too, Mor," you said softly, a hint of a smile on your lips.

You unlocked the front door of your building, letting Mor pass through the doorway before you, then led her up the stairs.

"Three flights? I must be spoiled, only having a flight to go up one at my place," Mor said by the time you reached the top, your fingers fumbling for the correct key.

"It's not all that bad, Mor," you giggled as you swung the door open, letting her go in first, and closing the door softly behind you.

"Oh, Y/N! This apartment is so you!" Mor said brightly as she looked around. "The bed looks amazing." She flopped down on it, sighing happily after she did. "You chose good, sweets."

"Thank you," you giggled, plopping down next to her. "I'm so glad the owner was willing to paint, it saved me from trying to do it myself."

"And it looks lovely too, and as I said, very you. So," Mor started, a hand flung onto your thigh. "I thought, if you have a day off while I'm in town, we could do a sleepover again! Either here or at my apartment, whichever you'd prefer."

"That sounds lovely Mor. If you're still here tomorrow, and you don't have plans tonight, I have tomorrow off," you offered.

"That's perfect! I'll go get a change of clothes and pick up some food on my way back, if that works for you, Y/N."

You nodded. "That sounds like a plan to me, Mor. I'll see you in a little bit?" The two of you stood from your bed, Mor's hair the tiniest bit rumpled from being squished against your mattress.

"Yep! Any preferences on food?"

You shook your head. "Anything is fine by me Mor, get whatever you've been missing while in the Hewn City."

Mor's face scrunched up at the mention of the Hewn City. "Don't remind me," she groaned. "I think I'll get some kind of pasta. Pasta sounds perfect for a sleepover."

"That sounds good to me. Walk safely, Mor, it's been slick out at this time recently," you warned, smiling when Mor winked at you playfully.

"I'm always careful, sweets. See you in a bit!"

You shut the door behind her, a smile on your face. You hadn't realized just how much you had missed your friend until you saw her again.

Not wanting to waste your alone time, though, you pulled yourself into the bath, determined to finish before Mor returned. While you didn't feel disgusting, you felt a bit dirty from work still, and if you're spending the night with Mor you'd like to smell decent.

Still, you let yourself relax in the steaming water for a few minutes, bubbles coating the water's surface. Your lungs expanded and collapsed rhythmically, lulling your heart into a state of peace.

Maybe... Maybe you could belong in Velaris.

Maybe it was your sisters that you didn't belong with, any more.

But with Mor? With Azriel? At work? You felt like you had begun to carve out a tiny little place for you to exist peacefully, if not happily.

A deep sigh left you.

You wished... You wished you could belong with your sisters once more. Your heart longed to see them, to share your joy with them. But... They never seemed to share in it with you.

So, you would settle for carving out a space for yourself.

No, it's not settling, you told yourself as you began to scrub at your body with a cloth. It's choosing to live, not to merely exist.

You may not know what you want out of life, but you're willing to find out now.

You willing to try your hand at living once more.

🤍🤍💝🤍🤍

General Taglist: @daughterofthemoons-stuff @lilah-asteria @meritxellao

The Afterthought Taglist: @darkbloodsly @angelbunny222 @uniquedreamsblog @romantasyreader28 @that-one-bibliophole @idkmyoldonewasembarassing @deathtopistachios @saltedcoffeescotch @sleepylunarwolf @babypeapoddd @kingshitonly @bravo-delta-eccho @bluebries81 @liahaslosthermind @deepestmentalitypersona @historygeekqueen @hermajestysworld @marina468 @esposamultifandom @astrokitty18 @larissa01-blog2 @acourtofbatboydreams @angel-graces-world-of-chaos @thelov3lybookworm @weekendlusting @dxjaaaa @thejediprincess56 @casiiopea2 @butterfix @sirenpearldust @marrass @satiresunflower @mae-foster @boo-shalala @optimisticbabydreamer @sttvrdustt @bunnybella186

#the afterthought #a place in this world #acotar x reader #archeron!reader #acotar x archeron!reader #acotar x reader angst #angst #fluff #acotar #acotar fic #acotar fanfic #toxic inner circle #tato writes

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grahminradarin · 2 days ago

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Okay look. Christianity has caused many, many, many problems. It deserves no credit for women's rights (except the Diggers and early Baptists, they were cool like that), and it especially should be condemned for its encouragement of war and colonialism. But Christianity is not a cultural and scientific void that seeks to make everything worse for everyone.

I don't want to invalidate your issues with Christianity. As a practicing Catholic who has disagreements with the Church, I know Christians are the worst. I'm sorry. But by saying "Historically, Christianity has tried to stop advances of science and ethics. Christianity's contribution to those things, was to get in the way.", you are negating the serious contributions Christians have made to science throughout history, and it's not fair to people like Copernicus to be discredited because they worked with the church.

I am going to talk about Catholicism and science because those are what I'm most familiar with.

Copernicus, the guy most often credited with popularizing heliocentrism before Galileo, was a clergyman (not a priest, but still ordained). Gregor Mendel was a friar and later abbot (guy in charge of a monastery), and also one of the foundations of modern genetics. There's an entire list here of just clergymen who made vital scientific contribution, not in spite of the Catholic Church, but because of it. For a fairly long time in Europe, until the Renaissance at least, monasteries and the clergy were the only academia because they had the best libraries and best funding for research. Not a good or bad thing, but that's how it worked out. Modern science would not exist without the Catholic Church. We would have the same ideas and advancements, but they would come from different places and would have developed vastly differently.

The Catholic Church has done far too many terrible things, so many that they probably can't all be listed. But it is an organization that existed for at least 1,500 years and has counted billions of people as members. It has done good too.

If you want to see more of how Christianity can be used for good, there's a a branch of Catholicism called Liberation Theology from Latin America that explicitly uses some Marxist tools in conjunction with Catholic social teachings to make a case for revolutionary and powerful love. There's also a really good podcast called The Word In Black And Red that reads the Bible through an explicitly anarchist, feminist, and radical lens, which has been very helpful to me for dismantling the ways Christianity is used for oppression. @thewordinblackandred https://linktr.ee/twibar

without irony: we have got to start feeding these freaks to lions again

#catholicism #that's just so I can keep track of this

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bogor-o · 1 day ago

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OKAY so first off my narilamb au is specific to my lamb n nari bc 🤪 but imma start off w/ an incomprehensible copy/paste of a ramble i had

all these ramblings are still rough but u kno!!!!

it's a bridgerton au specific 2 my narilamb(ovidia/narinder) where the bishops would be the closest to the bridgerton family equivalent and Shamura being the head of family trying to help their siblings find courtship so they will be set but narinder would be the most difficult of them all because hes stubborn and convinced that being married would make him miserable and every season hes had several interested suitors but hes rejected them all until he comes across ovidia, now considered a spinster after several unsuccessful seasons because all their previous suitors found them too high maintenance and itd be no different with narinder but itd be similar to bridgertons kate/anthony situation and they're so into eachother it makes them look fucking stupid!!!!

ALRIGHT now to get more into it, as far as family and dynamics go, obviously with Shamura being the head of the family they very meticulously keep things in order and its why their considered one of the most affluent families and they've very easily found partnership because it was probably more business than anything but it works for them, and when time came for kallamar to start looking it was smooth because of how enthused he was, and it was really obvious with him how many wanted in

the way i see it, nothing is strictly monogamous, but it's seen as "lower class" to have too many spouses because the merging of so many families is probably seen as greedy, desperate, something something for one reason or another-- that said, kallamar definitely has multiples, and if not for being such a prestigious family and shamuras own reputation, it couldve been worse so they got a freebie there

but with narinder, having seen the way his brother is with his spouses vs the way shamura is with theirs, hes seen an instance of a loveless business deal in one, and complete obsession to the point of disregarding everything else that hes so fucking disinterested in courtships especially in the way its been presented to him

hed be able to hold off shamura long enough to get away with putting off courting anyone, a lot of it having to be about "focusing on his studies and career" and while hes had PLENTY of potential suitors come knocking but he's always turned them away but when time comes for heket to debut its when the pressure is really on for narinder

THEN on the flipside there ovidia who has been insistent on taking on every role in their family, the head of which is the oldest matriarch who has yet to decide on who the next head will be and they have TRIED to court people but every potential suitor has just not lived up to the impossible standards theyve set but even WHEN theyre about to settle- something goes wrong and the courtship sinks and its always on the others terms

their family is large, but theyre only wealthy in the sense that such a large family that sticks together can hardly fail when everyone does their part. that alone make their name well known even if its unconventional

its at the start of the latest season that they try again where they first meet narinder and while everything almost seems perfect, the chemistry is almost instant but then they get a little too candid and ovidia talks too much about their situation and it triggers the part of narinders brain that fears becoming like shamuras marriage and a scathing remark both stuns and pisses off ovidia

one second everything is amazing, they seem to be on the same wave length, strong goals the other respects, even finding an initial attraction in the other but then he opens his mouth and theyve had it

they blow up at him and suddenly everything he does pisses them off and they'll start nitpicking everything about him and be right and their observations piss him off and then he starts going off on them along the lines of "i can see now why each season passes you by" to which ovidia is ready with a "as though your own haven't? one is left wonder if studying is why you've put off finding a spouse, or if that mouth of yours is to blame"

it self destructs right then and there and while they have no intention to cross paths again, of course they do

and it becomes some kind of pissing contest to find a spouse before the other does just to prove a point to the other than they CAN in fact find one and they both end up sabotaging each other unintentionally bc theyre still so into each other and in the short time they've gotten to know the other and even through the bickering it becomes apparent theyve put effort to remember things

its stupid, its messy, its what it is and im still thinking about it more.............

#botalks #idk what name id actually give this but its an au none the less!!!#narilamb

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becertainlust · 3 days ago

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doctor!law who always maintains his stoic professionalism with every patient—except when it comes to you. He insists it’s “just routine” that he visits you so frequently, ensuring your health is progressing as it should.

Morning rounds start with him pulling up a chair beside your bed, his amber eyes scanning your chart with precision. But even as his hands work with practiced ease, the way his thumb lingers on the edge of the clipboard suggests something more. His voice is low but gentle, asking how you slept, what you ate, and how you’re feeling, as though he’s committing every detail to memory.

At night, long after visiting hours have ended, his familiar silhouette appears in the doorway of your hospital room. He claims he’s just finishing his notes or double-checking the evening staff’s updates. Yet, somehow, he always ends up seated beside you, shoulders relaxing as you talk about your day. You notice the faint smirk tugging at his lips when you tease him about working too hard.

The truth is, Law tells himself he’s just being thorough. That it’s his job to ensure his patients feel cared for. But deep down, he knows no one else has ever drawn him in quite like you—no other voice has ever made him want to stay so desperately beyond his hours.

doctor!law who doesn’t do sentiment. At least, that’s what he claims, his sharp gaze and sharper tongue scaring off most patients from ever trying to get too familiar. But when it comes to you, it’s different—not that he’d ever admit it.

“You’ve been sitting around too much,” he says one afternoon, his voice cutting through the soft hum of your hospital room. “Come on.”

Before you can protest, he’s helping you to your feet with that infuriating air of calm authority. You don’t miss the way his hand lingers a moment longer than necessary, steadying you like he’s worried you might topple over.

“I didn’t ask for a walk,” you mutter as he leads you down the hall.

He doesn’t even look at you, his pace deliberate but not rushed. “And I didn’t ask for a stubborn patient, but here we are.”

The courtyard is quiet, bathed in golden afternoon light. Law doesn’t bother making small talk as you stroll—he’s never been one for unnecessary chatter. But his sharp eyes track every step you take, scanning you for even the slightest sign of discomfort.

“Stop pushing yourself,” he orders when you quicken your pace, his tone leaving no room for argument.

“You’re such a control freak,” you tease, trying to coax a reaction out of him.

His lips twitch, the faintest hint of amusement breaking through his usual scowl. “Someone has to keep you in line.”

Despite his gruff demeanor, there’s a strange comfort in his presence. He doesn’t fill the silence with platitudes or false cheer—he just is, his calm steadiness grounding you in a way nothing else can.

When the walk ends, and he’s escorting you back to your room, he slows, his voice softer now. “If you feel worse later, tell me. Don’t wait until morning rounds.”

“Do you always go this far for your patients?” you ask, half-joking.

He gives you a sidelong glance, something unreadable flickering in his eyes. “No,” he says simply. “I don’t.”

And just like that, he’s gone, leaving you wondering if you imagined the faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips as he walked away.

doctor!law who doesn’t entertain nonsense. That’s the image he maintains in the hospital’s halls and the workers’ lounge. The moment someone brings up the whispers about him and his favorite patient, he scoffs, eyes narrowing as if the very idea irritates him.

“Ridiculous,” he mutters, flipping a page in the medical journal he’s not really reading.

But when no one’s looking, his ears strain to catch the next part of the conversation.

“Did you see how he was walking with them in the courtyard yesterday? They looked so comfortable together,” one nurse says, voice filled with barely contained glee.

Another one chimes in, “Right? And the way he always stays late in their room? If that’s not a crush, I don’t know what is.”

Law’s fingers tighten around the edges of his book, his lips pressing into a thin line. Anyone watching would think he’s annoyed—but the faint flush creeping up his neck tells a different story.

“I’m sure they’re just being professional,” someone offers cautiously, only for another nurse to laugh. “Oh, please. That man has never gone out of his way for anyone like he does for them. He practically lives in their room.”

Law clears his throat loudly, snapping the room’s attention back to him. “If you have time to gossip, you have time to work,” he says, his tone sharp enough to cut through the air.

The nurses scatter, muttering apologies, and he goes back to pretending to read. But later, when he’s alone, he catches himself smirking faintly, replaying the words in his head.

He tells himself it’s absurd, that people are just reading too much into things. Yet, when he sees you later that evening and you joke about the “rumors,” he doesn’t deny them outright.

Instead, he leans against the doorframe of your room, arms crossed, a teasing glint in his amber eyes. “Apparently, I’m the topic of the day in the lounge. Care to explain why everyone thinks I’m obsessed with you?”

You raise a brow, smirking. “Maybe because you kind of are?”

He scoffs, though the tips of his ears turn red. “Don’t get ahead of yourself. If I’m here, it’s because you’re clearly a magnet for trouble. Someone has to keep you in check.”

But when he catches a glimpse of your smile and hears your laughter, he thinks, Maybe they’re not entirely wrong.

#one piece #one piece x reader #trafalgar law #law x reader #law fluff #one piece x you #fluff #straw hat pirates #op headcanons #one piece fluff #law headcanons #becertainlust

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f1cflcfic · 2 days ago

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The Prophecy (SMAU ft. Lando Norris)

pairing: lando norris x singer!reader (y/n)

summary: what happens after the break-up that noone saw coming? as Y/N L/N gears up to release her next album, each song reveals a little bit of the past, present and future of her relationship with Lando Norris. Inspired by a curated playlist built around "The Prophecy". note: this is RPF and is obviously in no way, shape, or form reflective of real persons. Also, this story is angsty with a happy ending - it does not contain any smut or suggestive themes. [A/N: This is my first SMAU and hooooooly shit did I totally underestimate how much work it is, and how things work within Tumblr to make it look alright. If you have any tips, let me know lol. I had to split it up in pieces, but i've got all the content written out already, so will be updated soon with the next part!]

♥･*:.｡｡.:*･ﾟ♡･*:.｡｡.:*･ﾟ♥

December, 2025

February, 2026

[Excerpt from red carpet interview at the Grammy's with Y/N]

How are you feeling tonight? You're up for 3 awards, one of them Album of the Year for All I Ever Needed - that's huge!

"It's so overwhelming, to be honest."

Even when you've gone through this experience before? This is your fourth time attending, second time as nominee.

"Yeah, maybe even more so! It's a great chance to hang out with friends and meet new people, but it's also really prestigious still. Being nominated - I try to act like it doesn't matter, because awards always involve politics too - but at the end of the day, you do want it."

And who're you most looking forward to seeing tonight?

"Honestly? I came alone tonight, so I can't wait to find Sabrina [Carpenter] and Jade. I'm gonna need my girls."

Your friend Miley is also up for an award tonight in the same category, what's that like?

"Ha, if the Grammy's do the right thing tonight she'll win it - I know I voted for her!"

You'll also be performing one of your songs - Ruin My Life, can you tell us a bit about what to expect?

"I really wanted this to be visually interesting, but it took me a while to get the right concept for it. I think it's because to me this album and song already feel sort of far removed, and lived in? I'm in a different phase of my life right now, so I had to find a new way to still connet to it. I was really grateful to work with a great art director to bring a different version to the stage."

March, 2026

July, 2026

[SkyNews excerpt]

Lando Norris wins Silverstone GP, dedicates his 20th podium win to his family

The man of the hour is none other than Lando Norris, who’s just gone on to claim his 20th victory at his home race. You’re reading that right, his home race! While he still owns his apartment in Monaco, Norris revealed today that he’s been living back in England for the past few months. “I just wasn’t in the right headspace anymore and wanted to live closer to my family. Especially now that my brother’s kids are growing up, I just like knowing I could drive over – rather than having to fly across countries.”

Speaking on the importance of his family being present, Norris shared that it means everything to him. “In this sport you need to have skill, talent, trust and investment from your team, but also you need that stable sense of safety from the people you love. If your mindset isn’t there, you can’t be competitive.”

Norris has been vocal about mental health in the past, and has advocated for more access to mental healthcare facilities and professionals across motorsport.

“Especially in tougher years where there’s just a lot of noise and turmoil, it’s nice to have a professional coach you to mental fitness as well.”

It was the only notable reference to Norris’ private life, which ended on a low note last year after splitting from long-time girlfriend y/n l/n. The two were originally thought to have had an amicable split, but recent reports hint at a different story, with Norris unfollowing his ex and her friends unfollowing him in return.

August, 2026

September, 2026

♥･*:.｡｡.:*･ﾟ♡･*:.｡｡.:*･ﾟ♥

Part II can be read here! likes, comments, reblogs are always very much appreciated ♥

#lando norris #lando norris smau #lando norris x reader #formula one x reader #formula one fanfiction #rpf x reader #f1 x reader #f1 x you

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moltenapian · 3 days ago

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> assuming the dom is a man

> assuming the dom is doing it because they like to see the sub suffer instead of doing it purely as an exercise in making their sub feel good in the ways that best work for them

Like fr

Not to get too personal on main but I've been pretty seriously SAd fairly continuously over a period of about five years of my life. Without going into details, it's led to pretty serious drives to self-harm. More beneath the cutoff of you want to read, I guess. It's late so I'm going to be very personal.

Drives that have been rewarded by society at large, in fact. Exercising 25 hours a week on less than 1800 calories a day, while it absolutely ruined my body in the long, made me one of the best rowers in my state in the short term. Nobody pulled me aside and told me that it was unhealthy, that I'd hurt myself, that in four years I'd hardly be able to function and certainly not in any high level athletics. No, they just cared I was faster at racing boats than the others.

I sought self harm in a lot of ways, none of which were controlled. Staying up far too late and working much longer hours than I should have. Not eating anywhere near enough in order to maintain my thin figure. All of it, rewarded and encouraged.

Only after some very severe health scares and deep reexamination of my situation did I really truly identify these drives and how they affected me in such an unhealthy manner. I can't get rid of them. After five years of consistent sexual trauma (and otherwise but we don't need to worry about that) those things are rooted too deep to excise.

But now that I'm in a healthy relationship with a partner who is accepting and understanding of my hangups, trauma triggers, and the things which I need to be able to function in a relationship, I've been able to deal with these impulses in a healthy way.

Better to handle that stuff in a scene where absolutely everything is agreed upon by both parties beforehand, safewords are strictly enforced, and nothing gets pushed too too far. Just enough to stop the part of my brain that wants me to hurt to be satiated for a while. My instincts for self harm are almost entirely abated with occasional "rough" sex and bitter drinks (ngl in my experience a very good way to alleviate those feelings).

Anyways, these days I've been sleeping enough, eating enough, and the healthiest and happiest I've ever been in my life. A productive environment to be able to work out those feelings is really invaluable, and I'm glad to have it.

All this goes to say... it sounds like OP either hasn't practiced safe BDSM (which is a very real risk, don't get me wrong) or is simply judging something based on an emotional/moral reaction. Anyways the criticisms really don't hold up, and tbh in 98% of cases competitive sports teams rely on the same dynamics and are wayyyy more unhealthy. I could write a whole essay on this but now is not the time.

This post is stupid as hell and I'm certainly sorry I (and you all) had to see it

not me printing and framing this shit

#rosie speaks

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star2fishmeg · 2 days ago

Note

CONGRATS ON 1K 🥳

Could I request Quinn Hughes helping reader through a stress breakdown + #13?

Thank you for requesting <3

FLUFF #13 "You came." "You called."

📞 dialling…

Quinn had never gripped his steering wheel harder in his life. Never had been so impatient and desperate to get back to his apartment before. He’d never burst through the front door, dumping his bags and almost tripping through his hallway like he had after he saw the notification back in the rink’s locker room. The second he opened his phone after practice and saw her name on the ‘missed call’ notification, his stomach dropped drastically, and all clothing and equipment was shoved into his bag without much care.

Following the sniffling, he peered into his living room, slowly and quietly stepping closer to y/n curled up on his sofa, as if she were trying to melt into the back cushions from how tight she had pressed herself against them, like she was trying to get as far away from her laptop that sat on his table behind her and curl up into a ball. He thought for a second that the way she had positioned herself, she didn’t want to look at the device she usually would be working from when he got home, her eyes red and wide, wet with glistening cheeks, choked sobs falling from her chest staggered.

Taking a seat next her, lips pulled into a compassionate frown, Quinn wrapped his arms around her body, pulling her onto his lap and holding her to his chest, “Sshh, I’m here, darling, I’ve got you.”

For some reason, one she could not explain, she cried harder, a lump in her throat that was cured by wails and uncontrollable tears as she melted into his hold, tucking her head into his collarbone and letting his voice and hands sooth her. His heart ached, a sting in his chest as her hand clutched his hoodie.

After allowing herself to fall into vulnerability, safe in his warmth, y/n sniffed, eyes bleary and grip on his hoodie loosening. Quinn’s hands remained soft, caressing over her back and placing gentle kisses to her head.

“You came?” she croaked, voice only loud in the silence of the apartment.

His hold tightened, wiping her cheek with his thumb and gazing softly into her eyes, “You called, why wouldn’t I come?”

“I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry I…I know not to call when you…you’re at practice but, but-” the words seemed to blurt out into breathless sobs, the kind that had her ugly crying where strings of saliva coated her lips, and she sniffed every few seconds to spare the embarrassment of getting mucus all over him.

“No, no. It’s okay, you can call me whenever you need.” He cooed, leaning back into the cushions.

He didn’t need to ask what she meant; they’d been together so long he just knew. She would never call him during practice unless it was an emergency. Not that he’d pick up until he’d re-enter the locker room, but y/n had a stone pride, a fear of asking for help and case of responsibility she felt obliged to even when she wasn’t. Being a hard-worker and carrying a weight were two different things and she couldn’t tell the difference, which led to situations like Quinn had walked in on. Y/n wouldn’t have called if it wasn’t out of desperation and the only time she ever called was when the weight of her stress crushed her into a mental and emotional collapse.

The sobbing gradually dulled into sniffing, y/n staring into space while he stroked her hair, “Do you wanna talk about it? Or I can run a bath with the candles? Or we can just cuddle and watch something?”

She didn’t ask a lot from him. Just to be held when she needed him the most and to let her hold him. And that intimacy was enough for her heart to slow into a peaceful rhythm.

“It’s too much, Quinn.” Her voice was strained, cheeks hot from her outburst. Yet, he didn’t know how long she’d been crying and panicking for until she called, and that pained him the most. “There’s so much work to do and so little time, but if I don’t do it, I’ll let everyone down and they’ll hate me and I’ll lose my job and-”

“-and you don’t have to do it alone. Why don’t we take a bath, cuddle on the couch and we can talk it through?”

She’d never met a gentler man in her life. She’d seen him tussle on the ice, throw a punch or two but that never made it outside the rink. He never raised his voice, never left any argument unresolved and his voice was always softer with her, whether he knew it or not. His arms, his warm and inviting arms paired with him knowing exactly what she needed without her saying a word broke away the distress chip by chip.

Shaking her head wearily, her lip quivered, “No, Q, you don’t have to go through all that, I can handle it, I swear. You’ve got your own things, I’m just overreacting, I’m fine, it’s fine. Yeah.”

“Y/n, look at me.” Quinn pulled her away from his chest, hand cupping her cheek and bringing her head to look him in his eyes. “Breathe. You’re not going to do this alone. I’m here for you and I love you, I will do whatever it takes to make you feel better, okay?”

She nodded, his thumb wiping away any excess tears. She swallowed the lump in her throat, breathing in for five seconds and exhaling for another five, just as Quinn taught her. Soft lips pressed to her temple, and she gave a small smile, leaning against his chest once again.

#≡megs1kcelly #≡qh43 #quinn hughes #quinn hughes x reader

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g4rvez-r3id · 19 hours ago

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Naughty Boy

Post Prison! Spencer Reid x Unit Chief! Fem Reader

Synopsis: You and Spencer are trying to have a little fun in secret until Emily walks in… Spencer decides to make it a little more interesting underneath your desk.

Category: Smut

Warnings: established relationship, power dynamics, reader and spencer keep their relationship private so it’s a bit of forbidden love trope, kissing, smut warnings: lowkey sub!spencer, and also lowkey perv!spencer, spencer has a boner, straddling, stroking, cunnilingus, getting caught, exhibitionist kink? fingering, cumming in pants, use of ‘sweet boy’, ‘good boy’ and ‘naughty boy’, spencer lowkey pathetic- idk that should cover it

Author’s Note: hey lovelies! lowkey this one kinda sucked but i wanted to write a smut oneshot 🤭 got this idea watching a sitcom lmao anyways post prison sub spencer supremacy 🛐 debating on writing a part two to this one where reader punishes spencer hehehe let me know! please enjoy this one!! <3

A lot of changes happened since you’d become unit chief of the BAU. It wasn’t your intention of becoming unit chief but Emily Prentiss believed otherwise. She passed down the tassel to you since you’d had so much experience on this team for years. And she also knew Hotch would’ve wanted it, too.

After Barnes tried to take the BAU down, Emily was given back her job and hiring authority. Feeling as if you’d earned the spot, she promoted you. Of course, you were a little anxious taking charge at first but Emily assured she’d stay every step of the way and even offered to take over when you felt the power to be a bit too much.

You and Spencer’s relationship had become more balanced since he got back from prison and you felt the need to keep your relationship under wraps for as long as possible. Nobody knew you two were together, you both were very careful when it came to your relationship. You’d only been dating for a year and a half since he got back from prison where he’d finally confessed his undying love for you and that he’d show you just how much he loved you when he got out.

You’d both been pining after each other for years before the fact. And since then every moment you’d shared together has been wonderful, despite keeping it hidden from your colleagues. It was for the better, especially now that you were a higher power. If it wasn’t strictly forbidden before, it definitely was now that you were unit chief.

You were lucky that you’d chosen someone that was usually good at keeping secrets. You both never arrived to work together, you both left work at separate times and only ever spoke in a professional manner to one another. Of course, nothing too far as to not speaking to each other entirely. You were surprised that no one had suspected a thing for the year and a half you’d been together.

Today, you were in your office, filing everyone’s paperwork and signing off on them one by one. You’d just finished JJ’s when there was a knock on your door. “Come in.” You spoke and behind the door had been your loving and doting boyfriend.

“This a bad time?” Spencer asked as he waited for your okay to come in. “No, no, not at all. Come in.” You smile and turn towards your already closed blinds. If you hadn’t already closed them, it definitely would’ve looked suspicious if you closed them now.

As soon as he shut your door, you stood up from your seat with a sly smirk and walk over to him. “So, what can I do you for?” You ask. “Oh, nothing, I just—” Spencer rests his hands on your hips. “I just missed you.”

You smile as you hold him close. It’d been a minute since you had a moment together. Cases were often disrupting already what little time you two had together.

“I missed you too, my love.” You say, looking into his eyes with a loving smile. “Why don’t we go out for dinner tonight? I’m working on the paperwork now so I won’t have to stay here too late tonight.” You suggest and he smile right back at you. “I’d like that. We could use a date night.”

You pull him closer to kiss you on your lips and as you pull him flush against your body, you feel it. It’s definitely unmistakable that he’s hard in his pants.

“Uh, baby?” You ask, pushing him a bit. “Yeah?” He asks as he leans his head down towards his collarbone. “Are you… hard just from a few kisses?” This wasn’t the first time he’d gotten an erection just from a few simple kisses from you. He pretty much gets turned on by anything you do. And you secretly love it.

“I can’t help it, Spencer admits into your neck. “You’re gorgeous.”

You blush at his words and smile, “Aw, thank you, my love.” His mouth stays on your neck, sucking on your pulse point. You pull him towards your chair and push him into it, getting on top of him and straddling him with a smirk etched on your face as you lean down and kiss him on his lips.

He tries to speak into the kiss, pushing you away for a brief moment. “Wait, wait, wait.” He says and you look down at him, your index finger tapping on his plump pink lips, staring down at them. You had a bit of an oral fixation when it came to Spencer Reid. Whether it was for yourself or for him.

“What’s wrong?” You ask. “I just don’t want us to get caught, that’s all.” Spencer stated and you smile, “I know, sweet boy. But you let me worry about that, okay? Right now, I just want to take care of my boy.”

You run your hand towards the front of his slacks and palm his hard cock through his pants. He moans a little too loud and you are quick to clasp your free hand over his mouth. “If we want to this to work, you’re gonna need to be a good boy and be quiet, okay?” He nods vehemently into your palm.

You stroke him a few more times through his pants and you check and see that your sweet boy’s eyes are rolling to the back of his head. You wonder how long you can keep him on the edge, how long you can make this until he’s shouting that he can’t take it anymore, how much he’ll—

Knock. Knock. Knock.

You and Spencer look at each other in horror before you quickly usher him underneath your desk and fix yourself up to the best of your ability, sitting in your seat. Surely, you could’ve explained that Spencer was just in here for a moment but you acted quickly and couldn’t risk whoever was coming in to talk to you to see what you two were doing. You two didn’t exactly have the best poker faces in the world.

“Come in.” You say, attempting to sound as normal as you can. The door opens and in walks Emily. “Hey, Y/n. Care if we talk for a moment?”

“Of course, come right in.” Emily nods, shutting the door behind her and sitting in the chair in front of your desk.

As Emily begins to talk with you about your most recent case paperwork and begins on giving you pointers on how to handle it quickly, Spencer is crouched underneath your desk and he has a perfect view up your skirt.

You’re too distracted with Emily being in the room to feel how his hands — his gorgeous hands — glide up and down your calf and they begin to reach in a higher place and you flinch as his nimble fingers touch your underwear.

Your eyes widen as Emily furrows her brows at you and seems to notice you’ve flinched. “Are you alright?” She asks and you nod, “Oh, yeah, super. Just too fidgety today,” You hold up your mug. “Too much coffee.”

Emily continues her advice as you feel Spencer removing your underwear down your thighs. You don’t see how he stuffs them in his pocket. He bunches your skirt to the best of his ability and you look down just for a brief moment to see that he’s become in a trance as he gawks at your wet pussy.

You’re so lucky that your desk is too high up for Emily to see what you two are doing. This is so wrong. You should definitely try and stop him but the fact that he could be caught underneath your desk — it just turns you on even more. Who knew you were such an exhibitionist?

“Another thing that I recommend that you do is—” You hardly listen to Emily as you try your best to give your undivided attention to her but it’s really difficult when the man you love is underneath your table, lapping at your pussy with his useful tongue.

You feel everything as he begins to suck on your clit and sticks his fingers into your hole and you try your best to keep a straight face. You bite your lip and try and keep yourself as hunched over as you can to not draw suspicion.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Emily asks, once more. “Uh, yeah,” Your cheeks redden. “I’m… just not feeling very…” You feel as he rolls his tongue in a figure-eight on your bundle of nerves. “Well at the… the moment.”

“If you need to go home, I can take over the rest of the day.” Emily offers and you think about it. You definitely need the time to punish your sweet boy for being needy and impatient, so maybe going home would be a good idea.

“Uh, that’s probably a good idea.” You say. “Why don’t you let the rest of the team know?” Emily nods and leaves the room and you wait for the door to shut to finally gasp and whimper.

As Emily exits the room, she walks away from the door and shudders. Yeah, she knew what the hell was happening. The team pretty much knew you two were together already. You guys didn’t have the best poker faces in the world.

“Oh, you naughty boy.” You back your seat up a bit as you run your hands through his hair. He takes his mouth off of you for a second to breathe. “I like seeing you in an authoritative position. It’s sexy.” With that, he dives back in, running his tongue through your folds again.

You take your hand through his locks, pushing him impossibly deeper into your pussy. “Oh, my God!” You exclaim softly, eyes rolling back as he finishes you off. “Come on, cum for me. Please. Please. Baby, please.” He pleads in your pussy, moaning and sending vibrations through your body as he sticks his fingers back inside.

You bite your lip to contain your moans in your office and you feel yourself gush over his face and look at him, his eyes blown with lust and love. “Did I do good?” Spencer asks, wiping his mouth of your essence and you smirk.

“You did.” You admit. “Now, that Emily’s gone, maybe I should finish what we started.” Spencer looks down and shakes his head, “No, I, uh, actually don’t need help with that anymore.”

You furrow your brows, look down and sure enough, Spencer’s slacks are a shade darker near his crotch. You should’ve expected this, he’d cum at the slightest touch.

“Somebody definitely wants to get punished tonight.” You tease, dragging a finger to his chin and he holds his arms up in surrender. “Hey, sorry I wanted to look good for my boss.”

You shake your head with a chuckle. He can be so impossible sometimes.

So, you tell him to exit the office as discreetly as he can with his blazer over his crotch to hide the evidence and to call in for the rest of the day, making an excuse that there’s a bug going around so you can edge him for hours on end when he gets to your apartment.

#criminal minds #mgg #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds x fem!reader #spencer reid criminal minds #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x fanfiction #spencer reid x you #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid smut #spencer reid blurb #g4rvez-r3id #criminal minds x you #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds smut #criminal minds one shot #criminal minds fluff

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cherryxbooo · 3 days ago

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I've got you ... always

Summary: Working as a Mercedes engineer has always been challenging, but with men constantly looking down on you, it becomes unbearable. Lewis is quick to put a stop to it, and fight for justice.

Note: First of all, I want to thank all of you for the love you've shown me so far. I really appreciate it! 🤍 The reason I chose this storyline is to address the issue of sexism and misogyny in workplaces. Unfortunately, this still happens far too often, and with this fic, I hope to bring much-needed attention to this subject. Just know you're not alone 🫶

Reader x Lewis Hamilton

Warning: misogyny and sexism

It had been nearly six years since I first joined Mercedes as an engineer.

Six years of intense work, late nights, early mornings, and a relentless pursuit of perfection in the world of Formula 1.

It was my dream job, one I had worked tirelessly to achieve.

But those six years also marked the time I’d spent with Lewis, six years of love, laughter, and challenges with the man who had become my everything.

I could still remember the day we met as if it were yesterday.

A bit of backstory:

I was the newest member of the Mercedes team, fresh out of a competitive hiring process, and I was determined to make an impression.

The first time I stepped into the paddock, I felt like an imposter among the sea of seasoned professionals.

My hands clutched my tablet like a lifeline as I walked into a strategy meeting, trying to suppress the nervous flutter in my chest.

Lewis was already there, sitting at the far end of the room. He looked relaxed, dressed casually in his signature streetwear style, yet exuding an unmistakable aura of confidence.

As I took a seat near the back, his eyes flicked toward me.

I was sure he wouldn’t even notice me, why would he?

I was just another new face among dozens of team members.

But then, he smiled.

It wasn’t one of those polite, obligatory smiles.

It was warm and genuine, as if he could sense my nerves and wanted to reassure me.

That smile was like a silent message:

You belong here.

Over the next few weeks, our paths crossed more frequently.

At first, it was just in passing, a quick hello in the garage, a casual “How’s it going?” during lunch breaks.

But it didn’t take long for us to start talking. Really talking.

It was during a particularly chaotic race weekend in Silverstone that our friendship began to solidify.

A last-minute weather change had thrown everyone into a frenzy, and I found myself staying late in the garage to run some last-minute simulations.

The paddock was nearly empty when Lewis walked in, still in his racing suit, and caught me muttering to myself as I tried to make sense of the data.

“Long night?” he asked, leaning against the workbench with a lopsided grin.

“You have no idea,” I replied with a tired laugh, glancing up from my screen.

He stayed and talked with me for over an hour, even offering a few insights that helped me crack the issue I was stuck on.

By the time he left, I realized that the nervousness I’d felt around him was gone.

He wasn’t just Lewis Hamilton, seven-time world champion.

He was kind, funny, and incredibly easy to talk to.

From that moment on, our friendship grew effortlessly.

Whether it was over post-race debriefs, team dinners, or stolen moments between the chaos of race weekends, we found ourselves drawn to each other.

We bonded over a shared love for what we did, but also over our differences, his world of high-speed fame and my quieter, behind-the-scenes role.

It wasn’t long before I realized my feelings for him had shifted.

I hadn’t planned on falling for him, but Lewis had a way of breaking down walls without even trying.

He made me laugh when I was stressed, listened intently when I rambled about work, and made me feel seen in a way I hadn’t experienced before.

One evening, after a long day at the factory, he invited me out for dinner.

It wasn’t anything fancy, just a cozy little restaurant tucked away.

Over plates of pasta and glasses of wine, we talked about everything from our childhoods to our dreams for the future.

By the end of the night, when he walked me to my car, he hesitated for just a moment before leaning in to kiss me.

That was the beginning of us.

For a long time, we kept our relationship private. We both wanted to protect what we had, to keep it ours without the scrutiny of the public eye.

But as the months turned into years, it became harder to hide.

Fans started noticing the subtle signs, the way Lewis would glance at me during interviews, or how I always seemed to be nearby during race weekends.

When we finally decided to go public, it wasn’t a grand announcement or a carefully curated statement.

It was a simple photo posted on Lewis’s Instagram.

We were in Monaco, sitting on a terrace overlooking the harbor, the golden light of sunset washing over us.

I didn’t even know he’d taken the picture until he showed it to me later that night.

“Should I post it?” he asked, his voice tentative.

I hesitated, thinking of the attention it would bring, but then I looked at him, at the way his eyes softened as he waited for my answer.

“Yeah,” I said with a smile. “Let’s do it.”

The response back then was overwhelming.

Fans flooded the comments with messages of support, and the media couldn’t stop speculating about us.

But through it all, Lewis and I stayed grounded, reminding each other that our relationship wasn’t for anyone else.

It was for us.

One of the things that made our relationship so strong was our ability to communicate.

From the very beginning, we had promised to tell each other everything, our fears, our frustrations, our dreams.

No topic was off-limits.

Whether it was a rough qualifying session for him or a challenging project for me, we leaned on each other without hesitation.

At least, that’s how it used to be.

Lately, I hadn’t been able to keep my promise to Lewis, to tell him everything, to lean on him like I always had.

The reason? Mark, Alan, and Greg.

They were three senior engineers on the team, men who had been with Mercedes long before I joined.

Older, more experienced, and as I had quickly discovered, painfully set in their ways.

From the very beginning, they had made it clear that they didn’t think I belonged.

I still remember the first time I overheard them.

It was during my second week on the job, and I was running a simulation late at night.

They didn’t realize I was in the corner of the garage, headphones off, sorting through notes.

“Hiring for diversity quotas,” Mark had muttered, his voice dripping with disdain.

“Yeah, they want to tick a box, so they bring in the fresh-faced rookie,” Alan had added with a chuckle.

Greg, ever the opportunist, chimed in,

“Let’s see how long she lasts when the pressure’s on.”

"She's better off making us a sandwich."

Their words had stung, sharp and bitter, but I had swallowed my pride.

I told myself that proving them wrong would be the best revenge.

I worked harder than I ever had in my life, triple-checking my calculations, volunteering for extra tasks, staying long hours to ensure that my work was flawless.

And for a while, I thought it had paid off.

At first, the snide remarks tapered off.

They didn’t engage with me much, but at least they stopped openly questioning my abilities.

I had even started to think that maybe, just maybe, I had earned their respect.

But lately, the comments had returned, and they were worse than ever.

It started subtly, dismissive sighs during meetings when I spoke, or whispered conversations that stopped the moment I entered the room.

Childish right?

Then the snark escalated, cutting through my carefully built confidence like a knife.

“Did you even double-check this?”

Alan had sneered last week after a team briefing, gesturing at the simulation results I’d spent days perfecting.

Greg, never one to miss a chance to pile on, smirked as he added,

“Leave the big decisions to people who actually know what they’re doing.”

Then Mark's voice was heard,

"Yeah, go do the laundry or something, whatever you women are good in."

It was always wrapped in the guise of banter, thinly veiled behind forced smiles and casual tones.

But I wasn’t naïve.

There was a sharpness to their words, a deliberate attempt to undermine me that cut deeper each time.

Even Mark, the one who usually played the “neutral” party, had started joining in.

During a debrief on a race strategy I’d helped design, he had scoffed and muttered,

“Well, I guess every team needs its token young genius.”

It was relentless.

Every day, there was something, a comment, a glance, a dismissive laugh that made my blood boil.

But I kept it all to myself.

I told myself that it wasn’t worth causing a scene, especially now.

Lewis had enough on his plate.

His move to Ferrari had been the talk of the motorsport world, and while he was excited for the new challenge, the transition was anything but easy.

here were endless negotiations, media commitments, and the emotional weight of leaving the team that had been his family for over a decade.

I couldn’t bring this to him, not now.

Not when he was already stretched thin.

So, I stayed quiet.

I bit my tongue when Alan questioned my calculations, ignored Greg’s condescending remarks, and pretended not to hear Mark’s muttered jokes.

Each time, I told myself it was just words, that I could handle it.

But deep down, I wasn’t sure how much longer I could.

Lewis was busy.

I kept telling myself that over and over, like a mantra.

Between announcing his move to Ferrari, dealing with the media frenzy, juggling sponsorship demands, and the seemingly endless meetings, he had so much on his plate.

The last thing he needed was me adding my problems to the mix.

But today was different.

The garage was buzzing with activity as we prepped for the upcoming race weekend.

The sound of drills, clinking tools, and the hum of engines filled the air, a symphony of chaos I had grown to love over the years.

I was stationed at my usual spot, hunched over a set of data sheets, meticulously double-checking the aerodynamics report for any inconsistencies.

I was deep in concentration, my pen scratching against the paper, when their voices drifted over.

Mark’s gruff tone was unmistakable.

“What’s the point of her even being here? Probably just a pretty face for the team photos.”

I froze, my hand pausing mid-note.

My heart sank, but I willed myself to stay calm, telling myself to ignore it like always.

Alan, never one to pass up an opportunity, snorted.

“Yeah, but even that’s debatable.”

Their laughter was casual, almost conversational, but the sting of their words hit me like a whip.

Then Greg joined in, his tone dripping with mockery.

“She’s only here because she’s shagging the driver or maybe even the boss. Imagine thinking she got this job on her own merit.”

Mark laughed before adding,

"Maybe we can all ask her for a turn as well, if it's that easy to shag the boss, we might have a chance too."

"At the end of the day, that's all they're good at. Women don't belong in the motorsport world."

The room was filled with their laughter.

That was it.

My pen slipped from my fingers, clattering onto the table as my hands began to shake.

I stared at the numbers on the page, but they were a blur, overshadowed by the burning heat of humiliation rising in my chest.

For years, I had endured their passive-aggressive comments, their dismissive attitudes, their constant undermining of my capabilities.

I had told myself it didn’t matter, that their opinions didn’t define me.

But hearing them reduce everything I had worked for, the late nights, the sweat, the tears, the sacrifices, to nothing more than being Lewis Hamilton’s girlfriend?

It was too much.

I clenched my fists under the table, my nails digging into my palms as I tried to hold it together.

But their laughter, light and cruel, echoed in my ears, shredding the last of my composure.

I pushed back my chair abruptly, the screech of metal against the concrete floor silencing the room for a brief moment.

My vision blurred with unshed tears as I grabbed my tablet and notes, clutching them to my chest like armor.

I didn’t dare look at them, I couldn’t.

My breath hitched, and my chest felt tight, like the walls were closing in.

I needed to get out. Now.

Without a word, I turned and stormed out of the garage, my footsteps heavy and uneven.

I didn’t care where I was going; I just needed space, air, something to stop the lump in my throat from turning into a sob.

As I walked away, their laughter faded into the background, but the words lingered, etched into my mind like a scar.

I didn’t know where I was going.

My feet carried me blindly, weaving through the maze of garages and team trailers until I found myself at the paddock’s edge.

It was quieter here, away from the relentless hum of activity, the chatter of crew members, and the ever-present cameras.

I sank onto a bench beneath the shade of a tree, my chest heaving as I tried to catch my breath.

Burying my face in my hands, I let out a shaky sigh.

My mind replayed their words like a broken record, each snide comment cutting deeper than the last.

"What’s the point of her being here?"

"Probably just a pretty face for the team photos."

"She’s only here because she’s shagging the driver."

The worst part was that they’d managed to plant a seed of doubt.

I had worked so hard to get here, put in countless hours, and sacrificed so much to prove myself in this male-dominated field.

And yet, in this moment, I felt like a fraud, like I didn’t belong.

“Y/n?”

The sound of Lewis’s voice cut through the fog in my mind.

I looked up sharply, my breath catching when I saw him standing a few feet away, his brow furrowed in concern.

He must have followed me.

My stomach twisted in a mix of guilt and relief.

The last thing I wanted was for him to see me like this, vulnerable, crumbling under the weight of my emotions.

“What’s wrong my love?” he asked, stepping closer and crouching down in front of me.

His warm, dark eyes searched mine, his hands gently resting on my knees.

The concern etched into his face made my heart ache.

“Nothing,” I lied, quickly wiping at my face.

Lewis raised an eyebrow, his expression soft but skeptical.

“Don’t do that. Don’t shut me out.”

I hesitated, my resolve cracking under his steady gaze.

His presence was grounding, but I didn’t want to pull him into my mess.

“It’s nothing, really,” I tried again, forcing a weak smile.

“I just… I’m tired.”

“Y/n.”

His voice was low and firm, but there was a tenderness to it that made my throat tighten.

“Please. Talk to me.”

That was all it took.

The dam broke, and the words spilled out in a rush.

I told him everything, the comments, the dismissive attitudes, the years of enduring their quiet but cutting condescension.

My voice wavered as I explained how it had worsened recently, how their snide remarks had crossed the line into outright insults.

“I didn’t want to tell you,” I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper.

“You’ve been under so much pressure with everything, Ferrari, the media, the season. I didn’t want to be another problem for you to deal with.”

Lewis listened intently, his face unreadable as I spoke.

But the slight tightening of his jaw and the way his hands gripped mine told me he was anything but indifferent.

When I finished, there was a long silence.

I stared down at my hands, afraid to meet his eyes.

“They’ve been doing this for years?”

he finally asked, his voice low and tightly controlled.

I nodded, biting my lip. “It wasn’t always this bad, but yeah.”

“And you didn’t tell me?”

“I didn’t want to add to your stress,” I said softly.

“You’ve been dealing with so much already.”

Lewis let out a slow, measured breath, his grip on my hands tightening.

“Y/n, nothing, and I mean nothing, is more important to me than you.”

His voice softened, but there was a fierce protectiveness beneath his words.

“You should’ve told me. They don’t get to treat you like this. Ever. No woman deserves this kind of treatment.”

I opened my mouth to respond, but Lewis was already standing.

He pulled his phone from his pocket, his expression dark with determination.

“Lewis, what are you doing?” I asked, standing as well.

He glanced at me, his jaw set.

“I’m making sure this doesn’t happen again.”

I reached out, touching his arm.

“Lewis, please—”

“Y/n.” He turned to face me fully, his eyes locking onto mine.

“You’ve put up with this for far too long. I’m not letting it slide, and neither should you. This is your workplace, your passion. You shouldn’t have to deal with people who try to tear you down.”

His words hit me hard, a mix of anger and love wrapped in every syllable.

I nodded slowly, my throat tight with emotion.

“Good,” he said, his voice softening as he pulled me into a hug.

His arms wrapped around me tightly, and for a moment, I let myself melt into his warmth.

“I’ve got you,” he murmured into my hair. “Always.”

By mid-afternoon, the entire paddock was filled with noice.

Meetings with Toto were rarely casual, and the tension in the air was palpable.

I stayed out of sight, nerves twisting in my stomach.

When Lewis had assured me earlier that he wouldn’t let this go, I’d believed him.

But seeing the immediate repercussions unfold was a different kind of catharsis.

The walk to Toto’s office felt longer than it should have, every step heavy with anticipation.

Lewis had his hand firmly on the small of my back, guiding me through the bustling paddock.

His touch was grounding, but my nerves still prickled under my skin.

“Relax,” he said softly, leaning closer.

“We’re handling this together.”

I nodded, though my stomach was a tangled mess of knots.

The last thing I wanted was to cause drama, but after years of enduring Mark, Alan, and Greg’s behavior, I couldn’t keep quiet any longer.

When we arrived at Toto’s office, Lewis didn’t bother knocking lightly.

He rapped his knuckles on the door with purpose.

“Come in,” came the familiar voice from inside.

Toto was seated behind his desk, a stack of papers neatly arranged to one side.

His brows lifted in mild surprise when he saw the two of us enter together, but he quickly gestured for us to take a seat.

“This seems serious,” Toto remarked, his sharp eyes flicking between us.

"What’s going on?”

Lewis glanced at me, silently asking if I wanted to start.

I hesitated, my fingers twisting in my lap.

Noticing my reluctance, Lewis leaned forward.

“It’s about some of the team dynamics,” he began, his voice calm but tinged with an unmistakable edge.

“Specifically, the way Mark, Alan, and Greg have been treating Y/n.”

Toto’s expression shifted, his posture straightening.

“Go on.”

I took a deep breath, summoning the courage to speak.

“For years now, they’ve made comments, snide remarks about my qualifications, my presence here. It started when I joined, but I brushed it off because I was new, and I thought I had to prove myself. But lately…”

My voice wavered, and I swallowed hard to steady it.

“Lately, it’s escalated. They’ve been openly dismissive of my work, undermining me during meetings, and even questioning my position on the team. Today, they went too far.”

Toto’s jaw tightened, and he leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk.

“What happened today?”

Lewis’s hand found mine, giving it a reassuring squeeze as I recounted the incident.

“They implied I’m only here because I’m dating Lewis and that I used my body to get my position,”

I said quietly, the words tasting bitter in my mouth.

“And that I didn’t earn my role.”

Toto exhaled sharply, his expression darkening.

“That’s not all,” Lewis added, his tone hardening.

“This has been going on for years, Toto. Years. Y/n didn’t tell me sooner because she didn’t want to cause problems, but that’s no excuse. Those three have created a toxic environment, and it stops now.”

Toto’s gaze shifted to me, his stern demeanor softening slightly.

“Why didn’t you come to me earlier, Y/L/N? This isn’t the kind of behavior we tolerate here.”

I shrugged, feeling small under his scrutiny.

“I didn’t want to be seen as a troublemaker. They’ve been here longer than I have, and I didn’t think anyone would take my word over theirs. Plus, I didn’t want to add more stress to an already intense environment.”

Toto shook his head, his voice firm but understanding.

“You should never have to tolerate that. Not here, not anywhere. The Mercedes team prides itself on being a family. What you’ve described is unacceptable, and I take full responsibility for not noticing it sooner.”

Lewis leaned back in his chair, his jaw still tight.

“What’s the plan, Toto? Because I’m not letting this slide.”

Toto nodded, already making notes on a pad in front of him.

“First, I’ll be speaking to Mark, Alan, and Greg individually. They’ll be given the chance to explain themselves, not that there’s much room for justification here. If their behavior aligns with what you’ve described, they won’t be part of this team by the end of the day.”

A weight lifted off my chest at his words, but the tension in the room remained palpable.

“I want to be there,” Lewis said firmly.

Toto raised an eyebrow.

“Lewis—”

“No,” Lewis interrupted.

“This is personal. They didn’t just disrespect Y/n, they disrespected the team, the values we stand for, and me by extension. I need to make it clear that this behavior won’t be tolerated. From anyone.”

Toto regarded him for a moment before nodding.

“Fine. But let me handle the disciplinary side. You can say your piece, but I’ll deliver the consequences.”

Lewis nodded, satisfied.

“That works for me.”

Toto turned back to me, his expression softening once more.

“Y/n, I’m sorry you’ve had to endure this. If there’s anything else you need, support, time off, anything, let me know. I’ll make sure you feel safe and valued here.”

“Thank you,” I murmured, my voice thick with emotion.

Lewis stood, pulling me up with him.

“We appreciate it, Toto. Let us know when the meeting is.”

“You’ll hear from me shortly,”

Toto promised, standing to shake Lewis’s hand before giving me a reassuring nod.

As we left the office, I felt a sense of relief wash over me.

For the first time in years, I didn’t feel alone in this fight.

Lewis wrapped an arm around my shoulders as we walked down the corridor.

“We’ve got this,” he said softly, his voice full of conviction.

I leaned into him, a small smile tugging at my lips.

“Yeah, we do.”

Toto wasn’t one to waste time.

Within the hour, Mark, Alan, and Greg were called into his office one by one.

The first to arrive was Mark.

When he stepped in, he wore his usual smug expression, likely thinking this was just another routine meeting.

But Toto’s steely gaze and the presence of Lewis, standing tall with his arms crossed by the window, quickly shattered that notion.

“Have a seat, Mark,”

Toto said curtly, gesturing to the chair across from his desk.

Mark sat, shifting uncomfortably as he glanced between Toto and Lewis.

“What’s this about?”

Toto wasted no time.

“It’s about your behavior toward Y/L/N,” he said, his voice sharp and unwavering.

“I’ve been informed of your repeated condescension, disrespect, and comments that have no place in this team, or any professional setting.”

Mark blinked, caught off guard.

“What? That’s not true. I—”

“Don’t bother lying,” Lewis cut in, his voice cold and firm.

He stepped closer, his dark eyes fixed on Mark.

“We’ve both heard enough from Y/n and other team members. You’ve been targeting her for years, haven’t you? Questioning her qualifications, making snide remarks about her role here, and today, outright implying she only got her position because of me.”

Mark’s mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water.

“I… Look, it was just banter. No harm meant.”

“Banter?” Toto echoed, his tone dripping with disbelief.

“You call undermining one of the most talented engineers on this team banter? You call questioning her abilities and belittling her contributions banter?”

Mark leaned forward, desperation creeping into his voice.

“Toto, I didn’t mean anything by it! I was just—”

“Enough,” Toto interrupted, his voice cutting through the room like a blade.

“I won’t tolerate excuses. You’ve created a hostile environment for one of your colleagues, and that is unacceptable. You’ve not only disrespected Y/L/N but also the principles this team stands for. I don’t care how long you’ve been here, Mark. Your behavior is grounds for immediate dismissal.”

Mark paled, his smugness vanishing entirely.

“Dismissal? Wait, Toto, please. I’ve been with this team for years. You can’t just—”

“I can, and I will,” Toto said, his voice resolute.

“Pack your things. Security will escort you out by the end of the day.”

Mark turned to Lewis, desperation in his eyes.

“Lewis, you can’t agree with this. We’re teammates, for God’s sake!”

Lewis’s expression didn’t waver.

“You stopped being my teammate the moment you disrespected Y/n. Pack your things, Mark.”

Mark’s shoulders slumped, and he left the office in silence.

Next was Alan.

He walked in with a similar air of confidence, though it quickly dissipated when he noticed the tense atmosphere.

“Toto,” Alan began, sitting down and glancing uneasily at Lewis.

“What’s going on?”

Toto leaned forward, his hands clasped on the desk.

“What’s going on, Alan, is that your behavior toward Y/L/N has come to light. Years of dismissive comments, snide remarks, and today, a blatant attack on her credibility. Care to explain yourself?”

Alan frowned, leaning back in his chair.

“Look, I might’ve been a little hard on her, but it’s nothing personal. She’s young and still learning. I thought she could use a bit of tough love.”

Lewis scoffed from his spot by the window.

“Tough love? Is that what you call undermining her at every turn and insulting her in front of the team?”

Alan shifted uncomfortably.

“She’s good at her job, I’ll give her that. But come on, Lewis, you can’t deny people have wondered if her connection to you played a part in her being hired. It’s not like I said anything everyone wasn’t already thinking.”

Lewis took a step forward, his fists clenching at his sides.

“The only reason anyone would think that is because people like you spread that garbage around."

"Y/n earned her place on this team through her hard work and talent, not because of me."

We didn't even know each other when she joined. And even if, she didn’t have to prove anything to anyone, the way you’ve treated her is disgusting.”

Toto’s expression darkened further.

“Alan, you’ve been with Mercedes long enough to know we value respect and inclusivity above all else. What you’ve done isn’t just a breach of trust, it’s a breach of the very foundation of this team. Your actions have consequences. You’re fired, effective immediately.”

Alan stood abruptly, his face red with anger.

“You’re seriously going to throw away years of experience over a few jokes?”

“Yes,” Toto said bluntly.

“And I suggest you leave now before you embarrass yourself further.”

Alan glared at both of them before storming out, muttering under his breath.

Finally, it was Greg’s turn.

Unlike the others, Greg walked in looking visibly nervous.

He barely met Toto’s eyes as he sat down, fidgeting with his hands.

“Greg,” Toto began, his voice steady but firm.

“You know why you’re here.”

Greg nodded, swallowing hard. “Yeah… yeah, I figured.”

“Then you know the kind of behavior we’re addressing,” Toto continued.

“You’ve contributed to a toxic work environment for Y/L/N and others. What do you have to say for yourself?”

Greg hesitated, glancing at Lewis, who was staring at him with barely concealed anger.

“I—I don’t have an excuse. I guess… I thought it was harmless, but it clearly wasn’t. I crossed a line, and I’m sorry.”

Toto’s brow furrowed.

“You thought it was harmless? You’ve made Y/n feel unwelcome and disrespected in her own workplace. That’s not harmless, it’s damaging. Apologizing now doesn’t erase what you’ve done.”

“I know,” Greg said quickly, his voice trembling.

“I know I messed up, and I’ll do whatever it takes to make it right.”

“It’s too late for that,” Lewis interjected, his voice low but full of authority.

“You had years to change your behavior, and you didn’t. You don’t get to stay on this team after what you’ve done.”

Toto nodded in agreement.

“Greg, I appreciate that you’re taking responsibility, but the damage has been done. You’re no longer part of this team. Security will escort you out shortly.”

Greg’s shoulders sagged, and he nodded, standing to leave.

“My deepest apologies,” he said quietly before walking out.

By the end of the day, the three men were gone, and the Mercedes team felt lighter.

Word of the firings spread quickly, and several team members quietly expressed their relief and support for you.

Back in the garage, Lewis pulled me into a quiet corner.

“It’s done,” he said softly, brushing a strand of hair from my face.

I nodded, a weight lifting off my chest.

“Thank you, Lew. For standing by me.”

“Always sweetheart,” he said, pressing a kiss to my forehead.

“No one messes with my girl.”

To all the women facing sexism at work, school, home or online: You are strong, capable, and deserving of respect. Don’t let anyone diminish your worth. Your voice matters, and you are making a difference just by being you. Keep pushing forward.

The end

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