#see what taking away freedom of expression will do

[mewritestufflol]

Chapter 3: A Vote for Fate...?

Pairing: Kang Dae Ho x Fem!OC Kang Eun-ji

Warnings: Squid game level violence, reunion,Slow Burn,Angst,Graphic Violence,Death,Blood and Injury,Psychological Trauma,Guilt,Emotional Manipulation,Survival Horror,Mild Language.

The players stood frozen in place long after the mechanical voice announced the end of the first game. The bodies still lay where they had fallen, eyes wide, blood soaking into the dirt beneath them. The silence was suffocating.

Eun-ji's breaths were shaky, her fingers digging into her palms. Her entire body ached from how tense she had been, but she forced herself to stay upright. She couldn't show weakness. Not here.

Beside her, Dae-ho remained still, his gaze sweeping over the surviving players. His grip on her wrist had loosened, but he hadn't let go.

Then, the front gates creaked open. The masked guards stood in perfect formation, rifles slung across their chests.

"All players, return to the dormitory."

No one moved at first. No one wanted to turn their back on the bodies. But what choice did they have?

One by one, they shuffled toward the exit.

Eun-ji didn't realize she was holding her breath until she stepped through the gates and the doors slammed shut behind them.

The first game was over.

But the nightmare was just beginning.

The atmosphere inside the dorm had changed. The once-noisy room was now filled with heavy silence, broken only by quiet murmurs and the occasional choked sob. Eun-ji sat on the edge of her bunk, staring at the floor. The number of players had decreased significantly. Earlier, the room had felt crowded. Now, the empty beds stood like grave markers.

Across from her, Dae-ho leaned against the metal frame of the bunk above him, arms crossed. His expression was unreadable.

"You okay?" he asked, voice low.

Eun-ji let out a sharp, humorless laugh. "Do I look okay?"

Dae-ho didn't respond. He just kept watching her, studying her like he was trying to figure something out.

She sighed, rubbing her temples. "I just—" She shook her head. "I knew this was bad, but I didn't think it would be this."

Dae-ho exhaled through his nose. "It's worse than you think."

She glanced at him. "You seem awfully calm about this."

He looked away for a moment before meeting her gaze again. "I've seen worse."

Eun-ji frowned. He never talked about his time in the marines. But now wasn't the time to pry.

Suddenly, an alarm buzzed, cutting through the tension in the room. The screen flickered on as the masked manager's voice echoed through the arena.

"Congratulations for making it through the first game. Here are the results of the first game."

The giant pig-shaped bowl hanging from the ceiling was now filling up with money, bills fluttering down like a messed-up kind of snowfall. And beneath it, the sound of digital trilling echoed through the massive room—sharp, jittery, almost like an excited robot losing its mind.

"Out of 456 players, 91 players have been eliminated. Three hundred sixty-five players have completed the first game. Congratulations again for making it through the first game."

A desperate cry rang out. "Sir! Please don't kill us! Please don't kill us. I beg you! As for my son's debt, I will do whatever it takes to pay you back! Please forgive us!"

The masked manager remained unmoved. "There seems to be a misunderstanding. We are not trying to harm you. We are presenting you with an opportunity."

Eun-ji's fingers curled into her palms as she watched the exchange. Opportunity? What kind of twisted game was this?

Then, a familiar voice rang out. "Clause three of the consent form. The games may be terminated upon a majority vote. Correct?"

Eun-ji turned her head to see Player 456, Gi-hun, stepping forward.

The masked manager nodded. "That is correct."

A murmur of hope spread through the players. Could they actually leave?

"Then let us take a vote right now."

"Of course. We respect your right to freedom of choice," the manager replied. "But first, let me announce the prize amount that's been accumulated."

"The number of players eliminated in the first game is 91. Therefore, a total of 9.1 billion won has been accumulated. If you quit the games now, the 365 of you can equally divide the 9.1 billion won and leave with your share."

Eun-ji's mind raced. Could they actually just walk away?

"Each person's share would be 24,931,500 won."

A frustrated voice shouted from the crowd. "Fuck. We almost died, and they're giving us 24 million? That's fucking bullshit."

The masked manager continued calmly, "The rule is that a hundred million won will be accumulated for each eliminated player. If you choose to play the next game and more players get eliminated, the prize amount will increase accordingly."

"So if you're the only one to survive, you get 45.6 billion?" someone asked.

"That's correct."

A mix of excitement and dread swept through the room. The stakes were clear now.

"Now, let's begin the vote. If you wish to continue the games, press the O button. If you wish to end them, press the X button. The vote will be held in reverse order of your player numbers."

A tense silence followed. Eun-ji's heartbeat pounded in her ears.

  Was this her chance to leave? But if she left, then what?

Please tell me how it is and make sure to comment<3 and if you wanna be added to the tag list.

Headers credit: @sisterlucifergraphics tags: @silas-222

[mattsmochi]

blow - matt s.

➜ matt eats his friend out.

➜ warnings f receiving oral, matt creams his pants, anxiety/hesitation but everything is consensual, not proofread.

i didn’t know what to expect or how to feel — the tension between my legs contradicted the tension in my chest.

i knew i wanted him, the dampness in my panties telling him for me. a series of what if’s littered my brain, some good and some bad.

my legs trembled against the edge of my bed though it was not from pleasure. his hand found its way to my knee as if he read my mind with his heavy eyes. he opened his mouth to say something… no words left. so he swallowed whatever lump was in his throat and tore his gaze from mine as if he couldn’t bear to watch my face twist in both confusion and bliss when his thumb ran over the wet patch, pushing the cool slick back against me like he wanted me to take it back in.

i, too opened my mouth to speak but a pitiful whine came out instead of his name. his gentle finger slid up and down over the stain and the tremble my leg almost gave quickly turned into a twitch. the corner of his mouth nearly lifted into a smirk but he held it back.

as his thumb explored me i found myself reaching for his face, tugging at his chin to make him look at me; he seemed confused, but his smirk finally prevailed when i lazily guided his thumb to my clit.

i sucked in a deep breath and let him toy with it, watching the way his eyes analyzed my expression to figure out how he was making me feel. i took the liberty of lifting my shirt up to show off the pretty bralette i chose for him, but his gaze never faltered from mine. however, his free hand wasted only a few seconds before squeezing one of my clad tits, pinching a nipple through the thin fabric.

the what if’s that once filled my brain with anxiety began to fade away, head feeling high with relief and lust.

“let me see it,” he murmured, as if it were an eager thought that was never meant to be said aloud.

but i was more than willing to pull my panties into the crease of my thigh and show it off to him, and finally his pupils fell south. it was almost embarrassing - almost. the way my pussy throbbed beneath him and how it most certainly did not go unnoticed.

the moan he let out was weak and his tongue pulled his bottom lip into his mouth as his head lowered down to bury itself between my thighs.

as soon as his warm breath hit my flesh i felt weaker than ever. maybe it was the vulnerability of having my friend see me in my entirety. he gave it a sweet lick, he must’ve been testing the waters. exploring like he previously did with his thumb, but getting a better feel for it. i tried to quiet myself, to not sound like it was my first time because it wasn’t, but despite his hesitation to dive in i felt the moans building in my chest.

i cradled his head, trying not to force his face deeper and snuff his freedom to breathe but my hand felt like it kept getting heavier. a voice in my head told me to do it, to push him down and make him stop wasting both my time and juices. eventually, i gave in and judging by the guttural moan he let out against my flesh he didn’t mind one bit.

his hand clamped around my boob and the other snaked around my thigh, a poor attempt to tame me. i watched even though i couldn’t see anything, but the brushing of his hair against the swell of my belly was a pretty enough sight.

he lowered his face, tongue now teasing my wet hole while his nose rutted my sensitive clit. i waited to make a single noise above a breath until his slick tongue finally dipped inside of me, curling and twisting in ways my fingers never could. his face writhed into my cunt, forcing his nose to gyrate against my clit making it twitch.

“matt,” was all i could moan.

“mmm,” he moaned back.

then, after pulling away just slightly he began slurping all of me up like it was melting ice cream. obnoxious obscenity filled the silence in the air, the tension between my legs begging to be relieved.

the tip of his nose performed just enough work on my sensitive bud to keep the pressure building with his big hand groping my now exposed tits.

“f-fuck, matt. m’gonna cum,” i whimpered.

just then he looked back up at me and i moved his messy hair from his face.

his eyes all big and wide looked into my glossy ones with an innocence so deceptive - as if he had no clue why or how i was able to feel this good. but when he applied a little more pressure onto and into me and heard my last words repeat themselves less shamefully the look on his face turned from innocent to cocky, tipping me over the edge.

my nails dug into the sheets and my thighs latched onto either side of his head; he continued to shake his head despite the lock my legs had on him, pushing me deeper into that feeling of pure bliss — i wanted to scream and moan, but not even a heavy breath would leave my chest as if he’d paralyzed my lungs with his lusty eyes.

my orgasm pulled me to the end of earth and back before i could breathe again, and when i finally came to my senses i let out a pathetic whine. he moaned against my clit, looking fucked out himself, but it only intensified the orgasm that disoriented me.

it wasn’t until he was one hundred percent certain i’d finished that he began to slow down his movements before completely stopping. my thighs were more than sore as was my pussy, but the rest of me felt light and dizzy.

i wiped my eyes until i could see clearly in a lame attempt at gathering myself while he resting his flushed face against my thigh, kissing it softly.

“fuck,” was all i said before laying on my back, making him chuckle.

“lemme clean you up,” he said as his stood to his feet.

i sat back up, frowning. “what about you?”

“i’m all taken care of,” he said nonchalantly; your eyes trailed, you were utterly confused until you saw a dark stain in his pants. you must’ve made a face because he laughed more audibly than before. “come on, i’ll carry you.”

-

a/n: hope u enjoyed some self indulgent content :3. this is my first smut for this fandom so pls lmk what you think!! xoxo -mochi.

[nausicaamusiclover20]

I love your stories so so much and your writing is AMAZING I just disconnect of the world and feel like I’m just right there! I was wondering if you could write a Dave x reader smut story? The reader and Dave knew each other because she was friends with Metallica before they kicked out Dave and for that reason he didn’t like her at all, but a long time after they meet again when Dave is in Megadeth (maybe the 90s?). She tried talking to him but he act’s distant because he doesn’t want to show his feelings to her because he felt betrayed by her too even though she had nothing to do with the band decision, but as the time passes by, the tension grows and… you know 🤭

P.S: ROUGH DAVE PLEASEPLEASEPLEASE 🙏

Sorry if I didn't posted, but last week I coudln't even breathe.

Hope you like it!❤

Warnings: NSFW, mature themes, sexual themes

Unforeseen Feelings

Walking into the bar, the familiar scent of stale beer mixed with the sweet aroma of forgotten dreams hit me like a wave. The low hum of classic rock filled the air, and for a moment, it felt like I was stepping back in time. Yet, the past carried the weight of memories and a certain man who occupied so many of my thoughts—Dave Mustaine.

I scanned the room, my heart racing with anticipation and dread. There he was, slouched at the end of the bar, a whiskey glass halfway to his lips. The years had been unkind, but they hadn't dulled his rugged charisma; if anything, the hard lines on his face only enhanced it. He had changed, yet there was still that recognizable spark of defiance in his eyes.

Swallowing hard, I approached him, my feet feeling heavier with each step. Memories of our past flashed in my mind—a friendship that had been twisted the moment Metallica's betrayal had taken him down. What had once been camaraderie had splintered into silence and distance ever since.

“Hey, Dave,” I attempted to sound casual, but my voice betrayed me—a waver slipped in as nervousness took hold.

He turned slowly to face me, his expression unreadable. “What do you want?” There was an edge to his tone, sharp enough to make me take a half-step back.

I bristled at the coldness, crossing my arms defensively. “I came to see how you were doing, but clearly, that was a mistake.”

His derisive laugh echoed around us, a bitter sound steeped in old wounds. “Just because you’re friends with them doesn’t mean I want to talk to you,” he replied, casting his eyes away from me.

The words stung, igniting a flash of anger within me. “You know I had nothing to do with that decision, Dave! You never even gave me the chance to explain.”

“Why would I trust you?” he shot back, disappointment lacing his tone. “You were close to them. You had every reason to side with them.”

I took a deep breath and leaned closer, my determination flaring. “But you didn’t even ask! You just shut me out, like I was part of the betrayal.”

His shoulders tensed, the defensive wall he’d built around himself thickening. I saw the doubts and hardships wrestling within his eyes; the conflict was palpable. “You wouldn’t understand,” he muttered, looking away.

“Try me,” I urged, my heart pounding as I drew closer.

The silence stretched, filled with unspoken words and emotions. He hesitated, and just for a moment, I saw a glimpse of the man he used to be—the one who smiled easily, the one who found joy in every riff. I remembered all those carefree nights we spent together, laughing and enjoying life.

Flashback

It was only a year before everything changed; we were hanging out backstage while the band prepared for a gig. The energy was electric, and the freedom of youth felt like a never-ending promise. Dave had flung his arm around my shoulder, his laughter echoing.

“You know what? Once we make it big, we should go on a trip together!” he exclaimed, a wild grin spreading across his face. It was the perfect night—music playing, laughter ringing through the air.

But soon after, shadows began to gather. The tensions I hadn’t noticed were festering. When Metallica’s betrayal came to light, it shattered him; it shattered us both. I could see it in his eyes but had no idea how deeply it would ripple through our shared world.

End Flashback

I took a sharp breath, feeling the weight of that memory press against my chest. “You didn’t give me a chance to explain,” I said softly, reaching for his hand, but he withdrew it before I could make contact.

“You’re friends with them. Why would you want to help me?” he retorted, his voice a mix of hurt and anger.

“Because I care about you, Dave,” I confessed, my heart racing, desperation filling my voice. “I never wanted to be caught in the middle of your pain.”

He continued to look away, the inner battle clearly visible on his face. “Then why are you here now?” he finally asked, his tone softening slightly.

“Because I’ve missed you!” I said, the exasperation in my voice ringing out clearly. “I can’t stand this distance between us any longer. I want to talk to you—not about the past, but about now.”

His eyes met mine, and within that moment, something shifted in the air; the hardness of his expression faltered, presenting a vulnerable side I hadn’t seen in years.

“I…” he started, but words failed him. I could see he was torn between the walls he’d built around himself and the longing that had lingered beneath the surface.

In an impulsive moment, I leaned forward and pressed my lips against his, yearning to bridge the chasm that had formed between us. His body stiffened in surprise, and for a few heart-stopping seconds, time seemed to freeze as a whirlwind of emotions swirled around us.

When I pulled back, my heart raced at the surprised expression on his face. “You’re so stupid; couldn’t you see I wanted you?” I breathed, searching his gaze for any recognition of my feelings.

He blinked, still stunned. “You shouldn’t have done that, Y/N,” he murmured, recovering from the shock.

“Maybe I wanted you to notice,” I replied, feigning bravado even as warmth flooded my cheeks.

A slow smile crept onto his face, a dangerous spark igniting in his eyes. “Maybe it’s time you learn how this really works,” he growled, pulling me closer so our bodies crashed together. The heat radiated between us like a force of nature.

“Let’s get out of here,” I suggested, the urgency of the moment urging me to act.

He took my hand, and we stepped outside into the cool night air. The ambiance of the bar faded behind us, but the heat between us only intensified as we wandered onto the dimly lit street.

“Where to?” I asked breathlessly, glancing up at him.

He looked down at me, his expression softening. “My apartment is just a few blocks away. We’ll be alone there.”

The thrill of his words sent a spark coursing through me. I nodded, and we walked in a comfortable silence, anticipation crackling between us.

When we finally arrived at his apartment, the door barely had time to click closed before he was upon me again, capturing my lips in a passionate kiss. His hands found my waist, drawing me possessively against him, and I melted into him, feeling the years of unresolved desire ignite like a flame rekindled.

“God, I’ve wanted this for so long,” he murmured between kisses, breathless and wild.

I leaned into him, feeling emboldened. “Then show me how much you want me.”

His hands slid from my waist to grip my shoulders as he kissed me deeper, any remnants of hesitance dissipating. In that moment, he moved us through the dimly lit space of his apartment, not breaking our kiss, until our backs hit the wall near the door.

The coolness of the wall contrasted starkly with the heat radiating from our bodies. He pressed against me, and I gasped, feeling every inch of him—hard and desperate for my touch. I wrapped my arms around his neck, pulling him closer as I relished the feeling of his body against mine.

He broke the kiss, taking a step back to look at me, his eyes dark with desire. “Are you sure?” he asked, genuine concern mixed with lust in his voice.

“Yes,” I breathed, my heart pounding. “I want you, Dave. I’ve wanted this for so long.”

With a primal urgency, he grasped my waist and lifted me effortlessly. I wrapped my legs around his hips, holding on tight as he carried me to his bedroom. The passionate energy crackled between us, charging the atmosphere as he set me down on the edge of the bed.

“I can’t believe we’re here,” he said, running a hand through his hair. His eyes were ablaze with desire, and I felt the intensity in the air between us.

Neither of us wasted time; the moment felt too precious to lose. He leaned in, capturing my lips with his once more, and I could feel every kiss building the tension that had long been held at bay.

As he kissed me passionately, his hands roamed my body, exploring the curves he had longed for. I pulled him tighter against me, feeling the heat of his body seep into mine. Everything else faded away; there were no past betrayals or anger, only the two of us entwined in this moment of pure desire.

With a surge of confidence, I began to undress, feeling liberated and free. Dave watched, his gaze hungry, and I could see his chest rise and fall with need.

“Let me,” he murmured, taking my hands and guiding them away, before leaning down to press heated kisses along my neckline. I shivered, my body responding instantly to every gentle touch.

“Dave…” I gasped, feeling a rush of pleasure as his lips moved lower, trailing kisses along my collarbone and heading towards the fabric of my shirt.

“I want to savor this,” he whispered against my skin

As his lips danced along my collarbone, I marveled at the way he explored me with both tenderness and urgency. My heart raced, and every kiss sent waves of pleasure coursing through my body. The mix of desire and anticipation had me teetering on the edge of bliss.

“Dave…” I gasped, feeling his warmth envelop me as he peeled away my shirt, revealing my skin to the cool air of the room.

“God, you’re beautiful,” he murmured, his voice thick with lust as he took a moment to drink me in. The sincerity in his tone sent a thrill down my spine, igniting an overwhelming desire within me.

He leaned in, claiming my lips once more, and I could feel his need mirrored in every touch, every kiss. I ran my fingers through his hair as he explored my body, revelling in the way he savored every inch of me. Moving with a confidence that came from years of pent-up longing, he gently pushed me back onto the bed, his eyes never leaving mine.

“I want to make you feel good,” he said, a teasing grin on his face that sent sparks flying through my chest.

Then, with a sudden burst of playful energy, he kissed a path down my body, his hands exploring my curves with a reverent touch. My senses lit up as his mouth moved lower, and I could hardly contain my moans as the heat between us intensified.

“Just like that,” I urged, feeling the tension building within me, the anticipation overwhelming.

With careful precision, he took his time, making sure to ignite every nerve ending as he worshipped my body with his lips. The world outside faded away, and nothing existed but the two of us, lost in our own private paradise.

“Dave, I need you,” I gasped, arching my back against the sheets, all too aware of how close I was to the edge.

“Then you’re gonna get me,” he replied playfully, shifting his weight and joining me on the bed, his body pressing against mine.

There was something incredibly liberating about our closeness. I felt a mixture of exhilaration and urgency as he maneuvered us into the right position, the playful glint in his eye making my heart race even more.

“Are you ready?” he asked, the hint of vulnerability mixed with eagerness brightly shining through his words.

“Yes,” I breathed, wrapping my arms around his neck and pulling him closer. “Just… just kiss me, please.”

He smiled against my lips and then kissed me deeply, the connection between us growing sharper with every beat of our hearts. It was a kiss filled with everything we hadn’t said before—the longing, the frustration, and now a promise of passion.

With a swift motion, our bodies intertwined, and I gasped as he filled me completely. The world shifted around us, and all I could focus on was the way our bodies melded together, driven by a shared heat that exploded into an undeniable rhythm.

He set a pace that was both passionate and sweet, losing himself in the sensations we created together. Each thrust was met with little gasps and soft moans, building toward a crescendo that I felt reverberate through every part of me.

“Just like that,” I urged, drawing him in closer. “Don’t stop.”

He smiled, his breath quickening. “I could get used to this,” he remarked, a teasing tone creeping into his voice as he continued to move within me, his warmth enveloping me entirely.

Moments turned into minutes, and as our bodies moved together, the world outside faded into insignificance. We became lost in one another, two souls finally finding their way back to the connection we’d lost for so long.

Our breaths intertwined, punctuated by the occasional laugh or whisper. I felt free, liberated in a way I never expected. It was raw and passionate, the way we connected driving us both to heights we hadn’t thought possible.

Finally, we reached that sweet climax together, the world around us blurring into a haze of pleasure and warmth. I could feel the electric spark of ecstasy wash over me as we both collapsed against each other, panting and blissfully spent.

After a few moments, I felt Dave's arms wrap around me, pulling me close. I smiled at the warmth that radiated through us, content with the closeness after the fire we’d just shared.

“I can’t believe we finally did that,” he chuckled softly, a goofy grin spreading across his face.

I laughed, burying my head against his chest, reveling in the way my body molded against his, feeling utterly safe and happy. “Me neither! I thought I’d have to throw you a laundry list of reasons for a while.”

“Well, you definitely sold me on it,” he said, a playful glimmer in his eye. “And I’m glad I took the plunge.”

“Just remember that I’m not letting you out of my sight again,” I teased, looking up at him. “No closing off anymore, okay?”

“I promise,” he replied earnestly, leaning down to kiss the top of my head before settling in against me, his warmth soothing. I could feel the tension of the past beginning to melt away, replaced by a sense of genuine comfort.

As we lay there, I felt him relax, his breath evening out as he nuzzled closer. There was something amusingly endearing about how he somewhat resembled a large, sleepy cat curled against me, his large frame contrasting with the gentle intimacy we shared.

“Are you laughing at me?” he muttered, half-asleep.

“Maybe,” I smirked, running my fingers through his hair. “You just look so adorable like this.”

“Adorable?” he repeated, the teasing tone back in his voice, even beneath the haze of sleep. “I’m a legendary rock star.”

I chuckled, the sound escaping my lips like a breath of pure joy. “And now you’re my legendary rock star, who is also a little spoon.”

“Little spoon?” he echoed, opening one eye to look at me incredulously. “You’re not supposed to tell anyone that!”

With a laugh, I tightened my hold around him. “Oh, it’s too late for that! I’ll spread the word: the great Dave Mustaine loves being the little spoon—”

“That’s it!” he interrupted, mock indignation clear in his voice. “You better watch out; I’m going to need to redeem my rockstar reputation.”

“And how do you plan to do that?” I asked, leaning closer, fully embracing the lighthearted banter.

But he didn’t reply. Instead, his breath deepened as he settled in, and I could feel him drifting off to sleep. I couldn’t help but smile, pulling him closer as I realized how far we had come—from distant friends caught in turmoil to two souls finding solace in each other.

There was something undeniably sweet about moments like these, and I felt secure in the knowledge that this was just the beginning of our new chapter—a chapter filled with laughter, warmth, and maybe a little bit of mischief.

[softer-sunny]

Do You Ever Laugh?

Fandom: The Bad Batch

Word Count: 3,492

Summary: Echo can't get Crosshair to laugh at his jokes. Turns out you don’t need to be funny as long as someone’s ticklish.

Ao3 link: Do You Ever Laugh?

This is a tickle fic

Thank you @iamawolfstarsimp for requesting this ages ago! Sorry it took so long but I’m excited to finally have it done ☺️

Echo was convinced no one had ever made Crosshair laugh before. He certainly hadn’t. That was really starting to irritate him. It hadn’t been too long, just over a week with clone force 99, and things were going a lot better than he anticipated. Integrating into a new group was always going to have its challenges but clone force 99 was far easier to fit in with than he expected. Tech constantly tugged him along for projects he wanted Echo’s help with. Wrecker wanted his company on trips to get supplies. Even Hunter had started asking for his opinion on their plans, giving him freedom to suggest changes where he saw fit.

There was only one glaring problem.

Crosshair. He hadn’t been cruel, nor had he pushed Echo away. They were entirely amicable if not for some petty squabbles every now and again but that was to be expected. The beginning stages were coming together well enough but Echo still hadn’t gotten a good read on him. It wasn’t exactly easy to work with someone who never seemed to crack a smile, never even budged as far as Echo had been concerned. Crosshair was the king of thoughtful looks, head tilted to the side, eyes narrowing as he thought. There wasn’t much Echo could do to make Crosshair amused. Oh, but he tried. He certainly tried. Telling stories, making jokes, attempting to connect with him on a very baseline level. All of it had been met with a careful distance. Not malicious, just guarded. That’s exactly what was happening now as Echo tried to make nice with their sniper. Making nice meant several jokes that he thought were perfectly timed, worked well enough with what seemed to be clone force 99’s particular brand of humor, that would’ve landed with any of the rest of them. However, Crosshair hadn’t cracked a single smile. Hell, he’d barely raised his eyebrow when Echo said ‘I’ll give you a hand’ while holding out his scomp to take an extra supply bag from Crosshair.

Whatever.

Echo knew his puns were funny whether the sniper wanted to admit or not. The rest of the 99 were minding their own nearby, huffing a laugh every so often, or chiming in as they talked. Crosshair was fine sharing stories, humming as he listened, but nothing - absolutely nothing - was getting him to smile.

Was it so bad to want that?! Echo had always gotten at least begrudging amusement at his puns. Interest in his stories that ended with amused smiles. Connections that felt easy and fluid. Crosshair was tough to get to know but mainly because he kept himself under a lock and key, not yet ready to let Echo in. One a level he understood that but the part of him that wanted to get along with his new squad just kept poking at him.

Yet another joke hadn’t landed - this time one at his own expense seeing as Crosshair was always tempted to poke fun at him - and now Crosshair had moved on from feigning disinterest to giving Echo a very disappointed look, shaking his head like he’d never heard something so unfunny a day in his life. Echo glared back in response.

“Do you ever laugh?” Echo asked, trying not to sound like he was complaining. His voice, however, pitched up into something closer to a whine. Maybe pleading would get his point across.

“I don’t laugh.” The deadpan reply was coupled with an eerily detached expression that Echo was just grumpily sick of seeing. With a groan Echo ignored him, huffing and he dropped his chin in his palm. Ignoring him further when Crosshair’s eyebrow twitched smugly. At this point he knew this was just to irritate him. It was Crosshair’s brand. Find the thing you wanted then refuse to give it to you, brag about it when you finally gave in and bickered with him over it.

“That is inaccurate.” Tech’s voice drew Echo’s eyes upward. Tech was standing, datapad in hand, peering over it at Crosshair. Echo watched with interest as the sniper shrugged, still leaning against the wall as if he didn’t have a care in the world.

“Never laughed a day in my life.” Crosshair insisted. You have! You have, you bastard!

“He’s being ridiculous.” Hunter rolled his eyes as he joined the conversation, plopping down next to Echo on the bench. With a huff Echo slumped against Hunter’s shoulder, playing up his disappointment at not being funny enough for their dear old sniper. Hunter accepted his weight, adjusting so he could hold Echo up comfortably.

“Everyone laughs.” Echo reasoned, if not a bit grumbly. Hunter grinned at him in response, a sympathetic pat to his shoulder in solidarity. Crosshair was going to torture him on purpose and he was powerless to stop it.

“Not me.” Crosshair remained unphased, moving only to lean more casually against the wall, slumping now in a way that was done only to infuriate Echo further. Smug son of a bitch always flaunting that aloofness.

“Oh, yes he does!” Wrecker accused, glaring far more intently at his lankier brother. Said lankier brother seemed to actually react to that, body stiffening and eyes widening.

“No , I don’t.” Crosshair bit out. The two of them stared at each other, both of them in a standoff that Echo didn’t quite understand. He raised an eyebrow when Crosshair started to sweat, slowly pushing off of the wall to stand straight as if he’d have to run for his life at any minute. One look at the other two 99s proved he was the only one out of the loop.

“We’ll show you how about that?” Wrecker stood, cracking his knuckles, and that was interesting. Echo looked between them like he was about to watch a fight, and maybe he was. Crosshair was already trying to scoot away, hands held out in front of him to display some kind of call for mercy. Whatever was about to happen had all of the room’s interest and Crosshair seemed mighty reluctant to let it happen without a fight. Wrecker strode forward, the other man shrinking away with a shake of his head, a silent call to stop.

Wrecker didn’t accept that plea.

“Wait. Wait, no!” Crosshair pleaded as Wrecker grabbed his wrists and yanked.

Crosshair was knocked off of his feet in seconds, so fast Echo barely saw how Wrecker got him in the hold, squirming as he was trapped in a bear hug so tight Echo felt constricted. Wriggling, Crosshair’s feet kicked out as Wrecker manhandled him into position - one arm holding him snuggly while the other could irritate at will. At least, irritating is what Echo has expected Wrecker to do.

What he didn’t expect was the other hand to go straight to Crosshair’s side and squeeze - one, two, three times - while choked off noises were forced out of his throat. With another squeeze Wrecker latched on, somewhere near the bottom rib, and wiggled his fingers in as if he’d done this a million times. Well, he probably had, considering that move had those garbled noises turning into panicked laughter.

A smile finally - begrudgingly - split Crosshair’s face in half and Echo, delighted, couldn’t help but match that expression. After days of trying, days of hoping he could get that stubborn man to laugh just once he was getting everything he wanted in minutes with one very simple thing.

“See, told ya.” Wrecker called, brightness in his voice. His fingers moved to spidering up Crosshair’s ribs and that got him to jolt away, his hand desperately grasping at Wrecker’s wrist and pulling.

“Are you tickling him? Is Crosshair ticklish?!” Echo asked, trying not to sound so excited. He knew the answer, obviously, but he needed to get his disbelief out in the open. There was the man that plagued him on purpose, squirming and kicking and laughing while his limbs swung wildly in the air. Tickled! He was being tickled! Echo couldn't believe it.

He’d seen the 99 tease each other, poke at each other to irritate, but they hadn’t done this yet. This was entertaining for sure. All that bubbly playfulness started to grow in Echo’s chest. A familiar tingly feeling that he always got when a fight like this broke out among his old squads.

He hadn’t even realized he missed it until now.

“We often do and yes, he is. That seems obvious.” Tech interjected, much to Crosshair’s chagrin. He choked out a disgruntled ‘Tech!’ but couldn’t get much else out otherwise, falling back into nervous titters as Wrecker continued to dig into his side. Tech’s datapad was sat down out of the way now and he sidled up to the two of them as if studying a particularly wiggly specimen. Tech reached a hand out that Crosshair immediately tried to slap but Tech, good ol’ Tech, was faster. He gripped Crosshair’s wrist then dove his own fingers directly under Crosshair’s arm, fingers moving in a way that made Crosshair screech. Echo felt himself pull his own elbows to his sides, subconsciously hiding in Hunter’s shadow. Someone remind him never to get on Tech’s bad side.

“This is torture!” Crosshair complained before falling into breathy laughter once again. It almost looked like he was getting electrocuted, or a fish out of water, flopping about in the hold as if it would change anything. Wrecker’s hold was firm, unbreakable, and he was stuck whether he wanted to be or not.

“We were taught how to withstand torture you will be fine.” Tech added and Echo laughed in shock at Tech’s casual humor. Whether he meant to or not he always seemed to pinpoint the exact right thing to say.

“Imagine that. Big, tough, sulky Crossie being so sensitive.” Echo couldn’t help it. Teasing was natural, grinning when a glare - as heated as he could manage while laughing like a maniac - was aimed in his direction.

“Don’t call me that!” Crosshair bit out. His body flung to the side when Tech changed tactics. His hands found a spot right above Crosshair’s knee, squeezing quick little bursts into the area without breaking his careful concentration.

“What? You don’t like Crossie?” Hunter was teasing now, too, getting up from the bench to join the little group that seemed intent on making Crosshair a mushy little pile of goo. Without preamble Hunter started poking over his stomach which made his knees yank upwards to try and cover it. Crosshair’s head shook back and forth, a bubbling laughter accompanying each and every poke.

He nearly knocked Wrecker in the nose with his head when Hunter ran gentle fingers over the center of his stomach, dancing over the fabric of his shirt playfully.

Oh Echo could practically feel those tingles. Dancing across skin that was so vulnerable like that, held in the air without a way down. Echo could remember getting ganged up on like that. The dominos often played like this, finding a target and all attacking at once. Hell, even Rex and Cody had a tendency to take him down a notch if he was getting under their skin. Some very giggly wrestling matches were all it took to remind him of who really had the upper hand when sparring with his COs.

A particularly loud cackle got Echo’s mind to focus again, tuning back in to watch as Hunter kneaded at the spot on Crosshair’s lower belly. That must tickle like hell with the way he started thrashing.

“I can’t stop smiling.” Echo commented only to cover his mouth with his hand a second later to hide it. It was too easy to throw out remarks that made Crosshair’s ears burn more, embarrassment flaring under his skin. This was something Echo could get on board with.

“Just wait until we get to his neck.” Hunter’s casual threat hit right where he wanted it to as Crosshair’s eyes went nice and wide.

“Don’t you dare-” The scream that cut him off nearly knocked Echo off of the bench.

“Too late.” Wrecker’s fingers were there in an instant, wiggling gently into the soft skin under Crosshair’s ear. Now the man was red faced, giggling mad, squirming at every single touch no matter how gentle. Wrecker’s big grin matched the look on Echo’s face for sure, his eyes meeting Echo’s. “Don’t worry. He’s just being weird about laughing because you’re new.”

Discomfort flashed through Echo’s body in an instant. If that were true, that Crosshair only acted aloof because he didn’t know Echo well, then maybe this wasn’t as fun as he thought it was. It wasn’t fun if they were causing some kind of distress, although he hadn’t picked up on any just yet, that didn’t mean it wasn’t there. Echo rubbed the back of his neck.

“He doesn’t have to endure this in front of me if he’s uncomfortable.” Echo’s voice came out quiet but he was clearly heard, Tech peering over his shoulder but stopping his fingers entirely. Hunter was next, sensing the change in tone and pausing. Even Wrecker stopped teasing at the skin on his neck. While it did seem reluctant they let Crosshair go, allowing him to get his feet back on the ground. He didn’t last long, knees giving out so he could drop onto the ground by their feet, breathing harsh puffs of air into his lungs.

Echo watched with worry, unsure if this was typical or not, as Hunter crouched down. Did they go overboard? He just wasn’t sure yet. Briefly, he thought about how it would feel if someone pushed him too far. Not listening when he clearly wanted it to end. That wasn’t what he wanted at all.

Hunter flattened his hand over Crosshair’s now messy hair, taming some of the strands that stuck up every which way. “What d’ya think, Cross? Newbie gave you an out.” Hunter asked, patiently waiting while Crosshair got his breathing under control. Would Crosshair just answer?

It took a few moments, his face turning back to a semi normal color the more time he spent free of their tickling fingers. Crosshair swallowed, cleared his throat, then finally looked up. An almost calm look was on his face now, the lines that showed his glare softening into something that made him appear younger than he was.

“If you think I’m admitting defeat you don’t know me at all.” Crosshair croaked out, much to Echo’s immediate amusement, biting the inside of his lips to keep a grin from immediately splitting his face. Damn, he could take a beating. Echo wasn’t sure he’d last that long if it were him.

“You asked for it.” Wrecker laughed, kneeling down just as Hunter’s hands found Crosshair’s rib cage, wiggling the tips of his fingers between them. All that fight was renewed now, squirming and laughing with all his might now that he could really move. It was funny to see them go back to attacking him now that he’d given a green light, not holding back.

Echo slipped from the bench to sit in front of them, perfect view of the gleeful expression on Crosshair’s face. All those hands attacked him without mercy, scribbling into crevices, poking into soft spots, squeezing along his thigh so his legs kicked out against the floor. Echo was mapping a perfect plan of attack for the next time they got this chance, committing it to memory so he could threaten and start a fight later on.

“You should try.” Tech said, eyes watching the way Echo’s fingers twitched. He had to admit that he was tempted to join but would it cross a line? They hadn’t been exactly chummy lately and Echo couldn’t afford to piss the grumpiest 99 off. “He will not be angry, if that’s why you are holding back.” Dammit, Tech, stop reading his damn thoughts! Echo sighed through his nose. Well, if Tech thought it was okay.

Scooting closer he tried to find an in, somewhere he already knew worked, somewhere not that intense. Crosshair was already wheezing, much more and he may just pass out. That wouldn’t be very fun. Hunter, actually, made the decision for him.

“Right here. We’ll let you do the honors.” He pointed to the crook of Crosshair’s neck, fingers barely touching skin but making him shiver regardless. Echo reached out, trying to mimic the way they had done it earlier. Crosshair flinched away from the finger tracing his skin, and Echo smiled to himself, pleased to be able to join in and get an immediate reaction.

“Real gentle.” Wrecker suggested, tugging on his own ear like it was a hint, a wink thrown in Echo’s direction. Echo hummed, fingers tracing upwards to the shell of Crosshair’s ear, hoping it was as much of a hint as he thought it was. It got an instantaneous squeak, scrunching up as he dissolved into gentle tittering. The rest of them slowly started to pull away, hands leaving with a last squeeze, one last scribble, one last poke, until it was just Echo. His gentle traces were well received - Echo noticed - still giggling but much softer now, arms wrapped around himself. He rolled around on the ground, scrunching every so often, but he always uncurled himself to allow more of those traces. Scratching his nails got a particularly loud laugh, curling so his back was to Echo. A stroke of genius made Echo scribble his fingers over the back of his neck, laughing when Crosshair immediately turned back over, head shaking to rid himself of the sensation.

He could imagine this would be a good way to coax laughter out of Crosshair in the future. Have him lay his head in Echo’s lap and trace gently over his neck and ears, hear him laugh in a way they rarely ever got to, leave him to recover then surprise him with a sneak attack when he was settling down again. Part of him knew Crosshair wouldn’t tug away but he left that to tease about on a later date.

While letting Crosshair go was necessary, it was with regret. Echo pulled away, finally removing all those sensations from the man now panting to get his lungs working properly again. Hunter sat cross-legged next to him, rubbing firm circles on his back as a soothing tactic. Echo made note of that too. Fine with being touched after if the touch didn’t tickle. Good to know.

“You’re all bastards and I will get revenge.” Crosshair croaked, eyes closed.

“I’m sure you will.” Hunter agreed, even if he rolled his eyes. It took a few minutes for Crosshair to recover, surrounded in his little cocoon of mean, cruel brothers who had clearly tickled him to death.

Tragic, mean, so horrible.

Damn, he’d missed this. These playful fights were a simple joy he hadn’t quite realized were something he had been craving. The simple connection, careful affection, gentle ways of irritating each other. It brought something brighter to Echo’s chest.

Eventually Crosshair peeked out at them, studying Echo’s face.

“What’re you staring at?” Crosshair complained, although he didn’t move from the hand petting him. He didn’t even sound cross for the most part, just curious. All that laughing had left him sounding less broody, even if it was still under all of that calm.

Echo shrugged, still fighting that smile that wouldn’t remove itself from his face. “Just plotting for the next time you piss me off.”

Light flickered in Crosshair’s eyes, something dangerously playful. “Oh, I’ll be plotting, too.” Now Crosshair was smiling for completely different reasons, evil flashing through his gaze. “You ticklish, Echo?” Just as Crosshair had earlier, Echo’s body tensed, flashing hot in a way that he knew would bring a blush to his cheeks. How were you even meant to answer that question? No answer was good. Yes only invited people to try it but No just meant they’d attempt to anyway. Regardless it was a question you were meant to be stuck between, no way to navigate it casually. Instead of answering Echo pressed his lips together, a move that still had Crosshair grinning menacingly at him.

When Crosshair pushed up off of the floor to sit up, Hunter’s hand falling away, Echo couldn’t help but flinch backwards, away from the possibility that he could be next. He heard Wrecker chuckle, an interested hum from Tech, and couldn’t shake Hunter’s knowing grin.

“I’ll get you next time.” There was a threat so clearly on Crosshair’s tongue but Echo ignored it, huffing instead as he wrapped his arms around his middle. Crosshair made note, clicking his tongue, but left him be.

He may have to be on the lookout for sneaky and underhanded payback but Echo couldn’t find it in himself to care. No, he had to plot his own rascally attacks. Maybe this was how they finally broke through that leftover wall. Playfully tearing down any space between them brick by ticklish brick.

[louisapennyfeather2021]

I would rather a solar storm knock out all of Earth's satellites and technology and be the reason why we lose Ao3 than lose it to the U.S. government.

***Edit: this isn't talking specifically about Ao3 being down on 7/10. I'm referencing all of the proposed bills in the U.S. government which threaten what little privacy we still have on the internet, threaten to censor sites predominantly populated by minority groups(POC, LGBTQIA+, disabled, non-Christian, etc), and threaten to take away the way kids/teens/young adults express themselves on the internet. For more information, research the Kids Online Safety Act(KOSA), the Restrict Act, and the Earn It Act. There are petitions you can sign, letters/email templates you can send to your Representatives and Senators, and scripts you can use to call your Representatives and Senators :)

[nezuscribe]

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭, 𝐚𝐜𝐭 𝐭𝐰𝐨

pairing: gojo x fem!reader

part two of the arrangement

summary: life was going well. better than you could have ever imagined. the whirlwind marriage between you and gojo satoru that started as an arrangement blossomed into something sweeter and more tender after you both fell in love. but that storybook life you've been living soon shatters when you're told that a bitter king wants you two to separate so gojo could marry his daughter. either that, or he promises a war to follow. you live between selfishness and sacrifice as the fate of the kingdoms rests in your, and your husband's hands.

warnings: 18+ mdni, angst with no comfort for a while, near-death experiences, gojo sometimes struggling to be reasonable, small panic attack, heavy making out, heavy smut, unprotected sex, loss of virginity, (reader's first time), creampie, (happy ending)

word count: 38k+ (sorry again)

note: act two is finally done! (nearly lost my fingers writing it) art credit: _3aem

jjk masterlist + series masterlist

One year ago you were told about an arrangement. The arrangement. 

It offered you a chance of freedom, a lick of life. You didn’t have time to question why the most sought-after bachelor of the six kingdoms was asking for you to be his bride, and only a daft, bumbling idiot would seek out the answer when time was given. Gojo Satoru was the man you soon called husband, but the true act of having an actual husband didn’t come around till months later. 

At first, the dinners you spent alone were now spent together. Albeit in silence, but sometimes you’d catch his stare from the other side of the long, mahogany table, and the two of you would quickly look away. On other days you’d walk around the estate only to catch him when he was training with his men, his loud voice booming around the walls as he commanded them. You’d watch them from the balcony, leaning over the railing as you rested your chin in your palm. Sometimes he’d look up and see you, not doing anything to hide his surprised expression, other times he tried puffing his chest out so he’d seem even bigger.

All of the unspoken feelings, lingering touches, and longing glances morphed into the two of you spurring out your thoughts to one another, elated and relieved to find that the other felt the same.

Months would pass and a part of you wondered if perhaps what he felt was only momentary. But those worries quickly seemed to pass the more you surveyed him. Because the most esteemed man, the most worshiped warrior destined to lead his lands to greatness, could not seem to survive apart from you for longer than five minutes. 

“Love, we have to go.” 

It’s your fifth time telling your husband about the urgency of getting out of bed, and the fifth time he’s tugged your squirming body closer to his bare chest to get you to stay in bed. His arms, which are the size of tree trunks, prove to work more than your pathetic flails, chuckling when you let out a deafening, annoyed whine. 

Months ago you never entertained the idea of the two of you sharing a bed, let alone the man you married turning into such a leech. Seeing how you were first sleeping on separate sides of the estate, you always assumed you had ended up in one of those marriages in which the only time you two ever saw each other was during meal time (if that) and at gatherings. 

But things took a turn, and after a while, that turn never stopped. And you found yourself here. With no complaints, of course. 

The days when the two of you weren’t burdened with the life of being the Lord and Lady of the North, Gojo would whisk you away to wherever you pleased. Sometimes you settled to bake some sweets in the kitchen, other times you requested to go into town and look through the bustling markets. He would always oblige, taking you down to the epicenter of Northern life, watching as you carded your fingers through the fabrics and stocked up on your spices. And though you enjoyed prancing around with your husband attached to your side, most days, these were the moments you loved the most. 

Other days you’d find yourself with newly made friends, women you had slowly gotten closer to the more you socialized. It took a while for you to move away from the quietness you had been accustomed to for so long, but you preferred walking around the town or the estate with them, arm in arm as you laughed about something minuscule. 

Nights were spent with each other, skin to skin, sharing the warmth. Mornings like this would come and he’d awake before you, pulling you closer to his chest as he nudged his nose against your ears. He’d whisper how much he loved you, how pretty you were when you slept. It proved to be a nice and easy way to wake up, but on the days where you were particularly stubborn and wanted to sleep more, he’d bite your ear, chuckling when you would let out a fake whine. Afterward, you’d grumble about it, like now, but other times you’d laugh softly when you’d turn and see his blushing face. 

“People might gossip if they hear you,” your husband muttered against your head, his lips pulled back into a large grin, “They might say I’m torturing you, leaving you unsatisfied.” 

Your cheeks heat up at his implications and you wrangle a hand out of his hold to slap at his torso, rolling your eyes as you give up, going slack in his arms as you relax against him. You might’ve put up a tougher fight if this wasn’t a daily occurrence and your overall zest to equal the strongest man ever known was decreasing.

“You’re so lude,” you comment, and he just shrugs in response, knowing that you weren’t lying. If anything, this was him being more than tame. Sometimes he’d corner you in a hallway that had heavy foot traffic and kiss you senseless, his plush lips growing into a sly grin when somebody caught the two of you.

“You make me lude,” Gojo remarks and you sigh, pretending to find him annoying instead of endearing as you look away. In reality, you loved your mornings together. With how busy the two of you got throughout the day, these little blips of being alone together were heavily enjoyed.

You rub at your eyes, yawning a little bit as you stretch your legs out. You find yourself sleeping better than you ever have in this bed, and whether it be the fact that your husband was asleep next to you or that the bed was constructed of goose feathers, you didn’t care much to question it. 

“We should go into town today,” Gojo says suddenly, and you turn your neck slightly over to him as you raise a brow. He mirrors your expression as if he isn’t riddled with duties that need to be taken care of.

“A ride into town alone takes an hour,” you argue, bringing his hand closer to yours so that you can fidget with his slender fingers. 

“I’m well aware,” he says, “But you were saying last night that you need more cinnamon sticks and that your honeycomb stash is nearly gone.” 

You try to hide your smile, try not to let him know how pleased you are that he remembers the little things you mention to him on a whim.

When you don’t say anything in excitement to his plan, he pours slightly, nudging at your shoulder with his nose. 

“Have you grown tired of me?” His voice is slightly muffled against your skin and you laugh a little bit, the sound making him smile slightly, hiding it against your collarbones, “Do you wish to cast me aside and take on a different lover?”

Your mouth drops open in a loud laugh, shoving your shoulder upwards so that his chin would fall off and you look at him in shock. 

But there’s a teasing grin on his face, one that truly just wanted to see you smile. 

“I’m just trying to be sensible,” you say with a pout, craning your neck as you glance up at him, your legs sprawling out on his, “You have that meeting with your advisors and I have to pretend I’m not listening to your meeting with your advisors.” 

Gojo’s eyes crinkle upwards, soft and gentle as he looks at you like you raised the moon, and pinches your arm slightly. 

“I’ve told you if you want to join us you’re welcome to,” he says against the skin of your neck, his lips moving fast and you try to hide your bursts of giggles at the ticklish feeling, “I’d much prefer having you inside with me than standing alone outside.” You also try to hide the way you burn up wherever his fingers are, which at the moment are gripping at your hips.

“But it’s more fun when it feels like I’m learning state secrets,” you murmur teasingly, turning around a bit so that the two of you are face to face. So close that you could count the amount of eyelashes he had and the little dust of barely visible freckles on his cheeks. He was training more than usual now, spending more time in the sun. His pink lips pull into a wide smile when he finally sees you, all of you, and runs a hand under your calf and up to your thigh to hike it up over his waist. 

Gojo’s eyes trail over your features for a silent second, admiring your appearance early in the morning, disheveled from a good night's rest. You feel like hiding, but admire the endless attention you receive from him at the same time. You feel foolish when you note how his features soften, his smile genuine and bright when his thumb traces over the hairs of your eyebrow.

A part of you never thought you would have a husband who looked at you the way he does. When you were younger you always assumed you’d end up a spinster or married off to an old man in need of an heir. This is why you so eagerly accepted the Gojo family’s initial proposal, but you never expected much to come from it. Never in your dreams did you envision the Gojo Satoru holding you close to him with such tender care, or that he’d gingerly run his fingers across the slope of your nose just to memorize your bone structure.

Never this.

Gojo Satoru was somebody who you had grown up with but observed from a distance. You always assumed that he and his family would prefer for him to marry a girl with a more…favorable background than you, but by a force of fate, you were the lucky girl they picked. You found yourself immensely lucky seeing that it was either him or evil incarnate himself, but some mornings you wake up and expect to blink yourself out of this dream. That you’ll turn around to find some other man than him, somebody with an oily smile and evil eyes. But just like this morning you woke up to fluttering kisses on the exposed skin of your shoulder and slender fingers trailing up your arm. 

“You have that look,” Gojo murmurs gently, his eyes tracing the way your lips part, the way they do when you’re in your world, “The one where you’re deep in thought,” he says, his voice a little softer as your gaze settles back onto him.

You think a little longer, eyes squinting as you smile. 

It’s been a while since the two of you have had a decent amount of time alone together. Mornings together, dinners, and then nights climbing into bed seemed to be the only blips of time when he wasn’t riddled with counsels and you with overseeing and trying to take care of problems the people of the neighboring towns were dealing with (last week you had to carefully settle a dispute with two farmers arguing over a goat, claiming it was their own.)

“I'm thinking….” you chew on your bottom lip a little bit, “I’m thinking I want to go away,” you say with a sigh, resting your back upon the headboard behind you as Gojo leans upwards, resting his weight on his arms. 

His white brow cocks up, not confused, just curious. 

“Where to?” He asks, and you know he could’ve asked something more extensive, but he’s gotten to know you and your strange requests, knowing you preferred simple questions instead. 

You hum, crossing your legs across the bed as you bring his hand back to yours and play with the wedding ring on his finger. He lets you do it, his fingers curling a bit so that they can hold onto yours, limiting your movements just a little bit. 

“Your summer home,” you say, tilting your head towards him, a gleam in your eyes, “The one near the ocean. Do you remember? The one where we all used to go when we were younger?”

Gojo nods a little bit, his pink lips and pink cheeks pulling upwards in a little grin. This was something he would very much be willing to fulfill. 

“I think that’s doable,” he says and your smile widens, “We can invite-”

“No,” you cut him off, shaking your head, eyes flitting to his momentarily before they dropped back down to his large hands, which were freckles slightly as well, “Just us.”

Gojo nods a little bit, swaying his head from side to side as he thinks about how quickly he can put all of this together. Maybe if it were any other man he’d be taken aback by the strange and unexpected request, but he was your husband and was used to your nature by now. 

“I’ll tell my men, I’m sure we’ll be able to pull some strings and be there by next week,” Gojo tells you after a minute of thinking and you grin, going to say something but get interrupted by a steady knock on the door.

“My lady?” One of the girls, Alina, calls out, and you look back at Gojo with a smile, knowing the slight angry pout that’s going to be taking over his face. 

“Coming!” you respond after a beat, pressing a soft kiss to your husband's forehead as you brush the white strands of hair away from his face before pushing the blanket off of both you and your husband as you swivel your legs around the bed, sitting up as you stretch your arms above your head and yawn. 

You hear the bed squeak as Gojo does the same, the wooden floor creaking as he stands up, walking over to your side as he leans his back on one of the pillars of the bed, waiting for you to stand. 

When you finally do he leans down to press a chaste kiss to your lips, knowing how much you were averse to his breath in the morning, and another one to the tip of your nose. His hand rests at the back of your head, gentle and soft.

“I’ll bring up the trip to my advisors today,” he starts, and your eyes twinkle, “And I’ll see you at dinner,” he tells you, and you nod, running your hand up and down his sturdy arm. You pinch at the muscles and he yelps a little bit, looking down to where your fingers are and you can’t help but laugh, soothing over the spot.

“I’ll see you then,” you say with a smile. There’s a little silent beat before he speaks.

“I love you,” Gojo’s voice lowers slightly, knowing that the women outside can’t hear him, but still wanting his words to only grace your ears. 

You giggle, your cheeks pulling upwards as you smile brightly, your hands trailing upwards to tangle in the hairs at the nape of his neck. 

“I love you more,” you reply giddily. 

---

Once your maids came in and got you ready for the day, you bid farewell to Gojo, knowing that with how long his meetings with the advisors and counselors went you most likely weren’t going to be seeing him till later in the night. 

You don’t miss the way the younger girls blush when they see him kiss you farewell on the side of your forehead or the way they stare longingly at his musculature figure as he leaves the room, but you don’t care much. They can stare as much as they’d like. You’ll stare at them. You know you’re the only one he looks at anyway. Especially when you catch the wink he sends your way before closing the door shut. 

The five girls come bustling in as usual, helping you out of your sleeping garments, although you’ve told them countless times that you don’t need help to undress yourself. They help lace you up in your corset and bodice, helping you with your chosen outfit of the day. As usual, you find yourself in the plush chair as they dote over your appearance, swiping honey over your lips and dusting powder over your cheeks.

It was a routine you had slowly gotten used to. A far cry from your old life where you’d turn out of bed, get dressed in your sister's old clothes, and walk through the pantry and into the kitchens to find something to eat. But this was better, far better than that.  

But despite those younger girls and their bubbly personalities, there was something off with the way your usual maids were acting. Alina, who usually was the most talkative out of the group, only met your eyes in the mirror a couple of times, her lips pressed into a thin line as she quickly looked away. 

Two of the other girls, Maryam and Lilly, seemed to be whispering together in hushed tones. It was ineligible from where you were sitting, and you tried to make yourself seem as discreet as possible as you slightly angled your head towards them, but to no avail. Sometimes, when you could look up for them to clasp the gold necklace around your neck, courtesy of Gojo, you saw the way they glanced at each other and then down to you with pursed lips and downcast eyes. 

When Alina went to dot some lavender oil on your wrists you saw how her hands were slightly shaking, her fingers cold and clammy. 

“Alina?” You said with a little laugh, eyebrows pulled together in confusion, “Are you alright?” You pressed the backs of your fingers to her cheek and then her forehead. A couple of months ago she would’ve pulled away in shock, telling you how unorderly it was for a lady to get this close to her maid, but she’s gotten used to it, and she only pulled away after a few seconds.

The other girls around you pause as you speak, but you don’t notice how they seem to mirror Alina’s expression. 

You watch as she swallows thickly, nodding her head down low as she places the glass bottle of oil down on the vanity. Her brown curls bounce a little bit with her movements, her large brown eyes wavering, as if she couldn’t bear to look at you. 

A look of perplexity takes over your face. Had you said something?

“Is something wrong?” You press again, turning around in your chair as you look at the other girls who have now fallen silent. None of them seem to be looking at you. 

You let out a curt laugh, arms resting on the back of the chair as your head tilts slightly. 

“Alina?” You ask one more time, your voice dropping a bit out of genuine worry. But you can only watch as she takes a deep, shuddering breath, her head still facing downwards as if there was a weight on her shoulders. 

You go to stand up but she quickly ushers for you to sit back down, though you see the way she brings her palms up to her eyes, trying to wipe something away. 

Was she crying? 

“What…?” You reach your hands out, trying to see what is wrong, but she looks up quickly and you’re taken slightly aback by the way her eyes seem bloodshot and wet cheeks, stained with tears. 

She shakes her head again, lips trembling as she quickly bows her head to you.

“I’m s-sorry my lady,” she says in a choked voice, “We’re done. I’ll see you tonight.” And before you can ask what was going on, to see if she was okay, you watch as she almost runs out of the room, leaving your other maids standing in a heavy, awkward silence. You look around to see what the other maids are looking like, surely as startled as you were, but if anything, they seemed to be struggling as equally as Alina was. 

“What’s….what’s wrong? Do you know-” “We have to leave, my lady,” Maryam quickly says, cutting you off unintentionally as the other girls mirror her movements and bow their heads down in respect, “I apologize.”

You sputter, trying to find something to say, but fall silent as you watch them file out in your room in the same hurry as Alina. 

You stand still, staring at the large wooden door.

What was that? 

—-

You try going about your day like normal. 

You asked around, trying to see if anybody had seen where Alina or the rest of your maids had run off to, but nobody seemed to find an answer. 

Not only that, but it seemed like the girl's strange behavior was reciprocated around the entire estate. Wherever you went, people would look at you for a second longer. You try not to make it obvious, and after years of being surveyed, you’ve gotten rather good at discretely listening in on what others are doing and saying. 

Walking around the halls alone, you keep your head down and ears open. You don’t miss the way some of the servants murmur things to each other behind their hands, their stares never leaving your frame. You’re grateful that today was one of the days Shoko, who you had become good friends with, wasn’t able to join you. With her rapid talking you doubt you would be able to hear any of the gossip even if it was shouted in your left ear.

You felt like you had been transported back to your old home, with your father's wife and your sisters. The constant whispers wherever you went, the eyes trained on your back. It was benign and odd, something that had never, ever happened until today. 

Something was wrong, and nobody was telling you what it was.

You had initially wanted to eavesdrop on the meeting Gojo was having with his advisors, but with the pit in your stomach and the dizzying feeling you were having everywhere you went, you decided to hide the rest of the day in the library, finding a little alcove where you could nestle away from everybody else. 

Truth be told, you had known something was wrong for the past week. Although today was the first physical evidence of this hunch you’ve had, there’s been something off in the air and you didn’t have the heart to voice this insanity to your husband. You tried brushing it off after the first couple of days. 

As somebody who grew up around maids and servants, cooks and cleaners, you were aware of how they were often the first to learn of any news. Words traveled fast with those who worked, and it didn’t take long to settle. You had been the subject of whispers and subjected others to being the victim of it, but either way, you saw firsthand how quickly gossip would and could spread. Especially when it was good. Even more so when it was bad. 

You could only wonder what it was that was plaguing the mouths of everybody around you. Has somebody passed? Somebody you knew? Your palm grew sweaty at the thought. There were only so many people you were close to and one of them you saw alive this morning. It couldn’t have been your father, they wouldn’t drag it out like this. You chew your lips raw, thinking. If it wasn’t a death, then it must be regarding the social circle sphere that you’ve recently found yourself a part of. 

You stare at the walls lined with books, blankly blinking as you rake your mind. 

It had to be serious and it had to be important. But as much as you tried to think, you kept drawing blanks. 

And so, as much as you tried telling yourself it was nothing, you knew deep down it was something. Today you had seen the people around you exhibit what you were more fearful of, but this past week you could pick up on hushed and worried voices. You could barely even read the first page of the book you had blindly selected from one of the many shelves, and when the sun set in the large window behind you, you had to remind yourself that there was still dinner to be had. 

You begrudgingly made your way to the dining hall, knowing you could barely stomach a block of cheese let alone a full meal. You had spent the last couple of hours letting your mind run over all the horrible things that could be coming your way, and having to mull over all those horrible things over food might cause you to become sick.

The guards open the large double doors for you as you begin to enter, and you feel a part of you deflate seeing that Gojo isn’t already there. 

You slowly make your way to your seat, moving in a trance as you pull your chair in, looking around to get a sense of the mood in the room. Heavy, from what you could tell. Perfect, you think to yourself.

The servants bring in different assortments of food prepared tonight, and had you had a better appetite you might’ve finished them the second they had arrived. But it felt like there was cotton shoved in your ears, barely hearing anything they were telling you. 

You swallow your bile down, your head ringing as you look up from your plate and to the man in front of you, your forehead dotted with sweat. You like your chapped lips, fidgeting with the ring on your finger. 

“Where,” your tongue feels heavy in your mouth, “Where is my husband?” 

The servant blinks once, then twice. 

He rubs the back of his head apprehensively, looking behind him to the closed doors, and then back to you. You could feel the way he was taking in your sick appearance, the way you seemed to be swaying side to side in your set as a means to help your queasy self. 

“Lord Gojo won’t be joining dinner tonight, my lady.” The man tells you. You know his name and have seen him countless times, but you can’t think about what the first letter of his name even starts with. 

“Did he say why?” You think your hands are shaking, and you grip the fabric of your dress to calm them down. 

In all honesty, you don’t know exactly why you’re freaking out the way you are. It could be something simple that’s happened and Gojo’s only stalling to tell you because he doesn’t find it to be important. But in all the time you’ve lived at this estate, have become the Lady of the North, you’ve seen things going right and things going wrong. You’ve observed the way the maids and servants act with one another and how they act with you when things aren’t going well. They’ve taken a deep liking to you, and respect you and your title. They care about you, which you still have trouble accepting given your past life, but they do things out of the goodness of their hearts. So if they were talking behind your back, it couldn’t be because they no longer care about you. It’s worse, and you can’t fathom what it must be.

“No…my lady, I apologize.”

You glance up at the man again and nod slowly. 

“Thank you,” you chew on the inside of your cheek, “That, that’s all.” 

He bows down, giving you a small smile, one that doesn’t quite reach his eyes and exits. 

You look down at your plate and heave out a breath.

—-

Dinner was spent in total silence, but that was a given seeing that Gojo never showed up. 

You don’t know how long it took for you to walk up the stairs that led to your shared bedroom, but you know it took longer than usual with the way it seemed like your legs were weighing you down.

When you entered the room, all you were reminded of was this morning with Alina and the other maids, and it only worsened your already raving heart. You tried to sit at the edge of your bed and calm your breathing, but slowly you realized that you needed to be moving. Sitting was only going to worsen your condition.  

You paced around the expansive room, fidgeting with your ring, moving it up and down your finger as you tried to busy yourself with taking off your other pieces of jewelry. 

You had also requested for the girls to not come in tonight. You needed to be alone, not knowing what you’d do if you were to see their pale, fear-stricken faces again. 

With shaky hands and multiple efforts, you were finally able to unclamp your necklace and take off your earrings. You tried to wet some cloth and drag it across your face, hoping the cool water would help. It didn’t. 

A part of you tried to force yourself to think that you were simply overreacting. There was nothing to worry about. But deep inside, you knew that that was a lie. You felt this same way when you were a little girl and your father's men raided you and your mother's little home to take you away from here. This was the same feeling you had when you were informed of your marriage with Naoya Zenin. It was the same, deafening and nauseating feeling whenever you’d walk into a room and know that everybody there knew your secrets before you even knew them. 

There was a moment in which you thought perhaps that part of your life was left behind, but it seemed like with every creeping shadow, it was still following you around. 

Still, you did what you could to distract yourself. You were able to unlace the back of your bodice and corset, pulling your shaky legs out of your petticoat and skirt. You ringed around your wardrobe and found a shift that was suitable for the summer breeze. 

There seemed to be only a few seconds where you wouldn’t look at the door, but you couldn’t help yourself. You’d glance at the old grandfather clock in the corner, feeling your blood roar in your ears as the hands ticked away later into the night. It was unusual for a meeting to take this long. And if it did, Gojo would’ve warned you ahead of time so that you wouldn’t worry the way you’re doing now. 

It took nearly another two hours of your frantic effort to stay awake when your bedroom door creaked open and Gojo walked in. His white hair was messy, eyes sunken in. When he saw that you were awake his glare softened slightly. 

You could only blink when you saw him, your nails digging into your palm, surely leaving little crescent moons indented into your skin. 

There was an unwelcome silence that followed afterward. You watched as he shut the door, rubbing his tired eyes, and looked back up at you through furrowed brows. 

“You’re not asleep?” He groggily asked as he began to take off his boots, his back rippling with muscles from under his tunic as you gnawed on your lips and he stood up from his position on the floor.  

“I couldn’t,” you simply said, moving forward a couple of steps and slowly leaning into his outstretched arms as he pulled you into his chest, planting a tender, heavy kiss on the side of your head. One of his hands pressed tightly against your back, not moving.  

There was another moment of silence, one heavy and unknown as you listened to the sound of his heartbeat. 

“Is everything alright?” Your voice was muffled, but still audible, as you finally asked the question that was searing into your head. 

There was another beat of silence, but this one was uncomfortable. Gojo hadn’t let go of you yet.

“Yes,” he finally said, but you had heard better lies from your sisters after they ate your pastures and said they didn’t than this. 

Your brows furrowed as you looked up to him. 

“What took so long?” You pressed, pulling away slightly as his lips formed into a thin line, and he dragged a hand down his face. 

“Just…state affairs,” he turned away from you, against eye contact as he ran another hand through his hair. 

You scoffed, rolling your eyes as you crossed your arms over your chest. You thought that he had at least begun to trust you enough not to lie this blatantly. 

“Have one of the states suddenly terminated their subject's existence?” You tried to tease, but your voice was flat and you couldn’t hide the curiosity and hurt behind it. Gojo didn’t laugh, which hurt even more. You leaned back on one of the pillars of your bed and watched as he stood with his back to you, contemplating something in utter silence. 

How you loathed silence. 

“What’s wrong?” You ask again, your tone heavy, not leaving any room for him to stay quiet. 

Your brows furrowed even more, arms tighter around your middle as he heaved a heavy breath, and when he finally turned you wished he would’ve just stayed hidden from you. Because there were spots of red in the whites of his shimmering eyes, and that was more fearful than the quiet. 

You tilt your head, not knowing what to do, and see his breath in shakily. The only time you had seen him break was that night he confessed to you in the field. Never again. Not until now. 

You take a tentative step forward, eyes searching his but he can’t bear to look at you. 

“I know there’s something wrong,” you say shakily, taking a deep breath as you pinch the bridge of your nose, “Alina nearly broke down in front of me today and everyone around the house seems to be walking on glass. So…so please just tell me what it is.” You’re pleading with him at this point, and you don’t care if you’re losing a shred of dignity. 

Gojo takes a deep breath, his hand searching for yours as you oblige. It’s warm, comforting. His thumb rubs up and down your wrist apologetically. 

His nose picks up on the smell of lavender oil, one he’s come to associate with you. It’s calming, a gentle reminder of his home, the one thing he fights for. When he looks at you and sees the worried crease of your brow, it only tugs on his heart more. 

“You’re…aware of how there’s been some conflict with the South for a while, right?” Gojo finally asks, though it seems like speaking is physically hurting him, “And how tensions worsened when my father stepped down?”

You nod slowly, knowing of this. After all, you might’ve been kept in the shadows in your old life, but you weren’t daft. You tried to keep up with the relations of the state as much as possible. Your father also did what he could to inform you of the North’s relations with the other tribes and nations before your wedding. Given its sudden nature, there were some things you weren’t able to fully learn until you got here, but it was common knowledge that the north and south were always teetering on an edge. 

It was centuries of conflicts that dated well before your time. Bloody disputes over land, women, and coin often seemed to be the root cause of all the troubles, and however petty they might seem, they’ve mended themselves deep in the current rulers of the country. Gojo’s father, the previous Lord of the North, was a peaceful man, but there were tensions even he couldn’t solve. The Southern King often ruled with an ironclad fist that only grew more spiteful when the old lord stepped down and Gojo took his place. 

You remember your father sitting in front of you with an ancient book spread out in your old home's library, a candle flickering in the background as he told you all this. And the final thing that you couldn’t forget he said regarding the current relations between the north and south were embedded in your mind. 

“I know the king isn’t happy with this arrangement at all,” your father had said as you flipped through the crinkly pages, smoothing over the wrinkles on his forehead as you glanced upwards. 

“Because of the Princess?” You asked, looking down briefly to read a passage on one of the northern wars that happened nearly three centuries ago. 

“Partially because of that,” your father agreed, his eyes glancing over your features. 

In the candlelight, when it was dim and nobody was around, he was allowed to look at you and see his daughter, not a bastard child everybody swore you were. Sometimes when you looked at him, he saw your mother. And when that happened, he had to look away. 

“But because of you. Because of who you are. Never forget the blood that runs in your veins is the blood that old lords and kings fought over.”

Your eyes narrowed, trying to think back to your sister's history lessons you listened to behind closed doors. 

“Me?” You parrot, confused. Your father nodded, his fingers scratching at the slight stubble on his chin. 

“There are greater enemies than ones gained from lost land, and the South would never forget those who allied with the North to get them where they are now.”

So you knew that it certainly didn’t help that Gojo married a daughter of the Western ruler, a union that in its nature was egregious to the South. 

“And before I married you, my,” he squeezed his eyes shut, breathing deeply, “My father had agreed for me to marry the Southern princess to mend our relationship.” 

You knew of the women Gojo had lined up, some in his favor and some not. The Southern princess was one of them. You had seen her a handful of times at the old gatherings you were forced to go to when you were younger. There was always a circle of girls circling around her, their voices chirpy and pitched like canaries, and whenever she said something, loud laughter (faux) would fall comedically from their lips. Your sisters always tried to befriend her, but you knew it wasn’t your place. You’d observe them from afar, taking note of the ridiculous amount of jewels and stones that decorated her bodice, her neck, her wrists, her hair. The boys would stare at her from a distance, talking to each other, trying to decide who should approach her first. The princess was indeed a true beauty, perhaps the most beautiful girl you’ve ever seen, but that was the last bit of knowledge you had regarding her.

Much like you who was initially supposed to marry another man, Gojo was close to accepting the South’s proposal to marry him off with their only daughter. But something happened, and the former Lady of the North proposed for you to marry her son instead. 

“So?” You shake your head in confusion, your stomach churning, “You’re married to me now,” you state the obvious, but you see the way he smiles softly at that, nodding. 

“The Southern King wasn’t fond of our marriage,” you watch as he twirls his ring around, “They’ve been holding off on trade with the North and anybody who’s pledged allegiance to us. They’ve formed naval blockades around parts of our ocean that stop us from reaching our traders across the sea.” Gojo jams his palms into his eyes. For a moment he doesn’t look like the ruler he is or the warrior he’s always been but a scared boy who doesn’t know what to do. 

You take another step forward, leaning into him as he deflates into you, one hand protectively going around your shoulders and the other around your waist. 

“Well, surely there are ways to figure this out,” you say as confidently as you can, “We’ll ask for a smaller cut of their exports than usual….or offer another northerner of higher ranking for their princess,” you offer, looking up at him only to see his eyes wavering, the tip of his nose pink. 

He swallows thickly. 

“We did,” he mutters, “We did all of those things. All of those things and more. but…”

He trails off and you shake your head, eyes wide. 

“But what?” You press and he rubs at his eyes, at his stray tears. 

He goes to open his mouth but he can’t. You’ve never seen him like this. 

“The Southern King, he-” your husband's voice cracks and you pull away in shock, in fear, in terror as he tries to control a sob. The most feared man of all the land fighting down a sob, and all you could do was watch in fear. 

“He’s promised war if we don’t abide by his terms.”

Your tears have stung in your eyes, maybe because you were terrified of the response because a part of you knew that something good like this could only last for so long. That your moments of bliss were only to be cherished at an arm’s length, good, but not eternal. Perhaps you should’ve known from the start, should have braced yourself for something as terminal as this. 

But war? You never could have prepared yourself for this. It had been years since the land had seen war of any kind. Minor battles and conflicts were impossible to avoid, but a declaration of war from a king was beyond what you could have comprehended. 

Your eyes blink rapidly, your fingers twitching as they reach upwards to cover your mouth. There were only so many routes Gojo could decide to go down on. Depending on the conditions of the statement the king had set forth, there might be a way to avoid any senseless bloodshed. But you knew your husband, knew how much he cared for his land, for his people, for you, and if any one of those things were at stake…

“And,” your lips tremble, and how Gojo longs to kiss it away, if only his hands weren’t shaking and heart pounding, “And what are his terms?”

A grim look takes over his face, one that looks like a knife has been dug into his stomach and has begun to twist. He opens his mouth once, twice, and fails. He can’t speak. He can’t say the wretched words out loud. 

“That,” Gojo’s voice is wavering, and it’s a strange, unnerving thing to hear, “That I uphold by the initial promise. That I marry his daughter. That I separate from…” he blinks slowly, his mouth closing and then opening, a little gasp of horror leaving your lips as you piece together what he was saying.

You’re shaking your head, lips trembling, moving away from him as you walk around the room until you’re standing near your vanity, your chest shaking with quivering breaths as you try desperately to keep your stinging tears at bay.

You can hear him shuffling, but with your back to him, you can only feel his presence come up from behind you as his hands try to grasp at your elbows, trying to move your hands away from your face. But it’s no use. It’s as if you’ve been petrified, turned into a stone statue. The only sign of movement was the way your chest heaved up and down with each gulp of air you were taking.

He’s calling your name, but you feel like a fish underwater. You can’t hear anything correctly, can only hear the pounding, shuddering beat of your dying heart. You squeeze your eyes shut, trying to hold on to the cries that are threatening to spill from your lips. You realize now what it was that the maids were talking about, why Alina was crying. It was no surprise to you that they were able to get word of them before you did. And you were no longer confused by their sullen responses.

Because there truly was no answer. No good answer, at least. 

You couldn’t justify a war over a marriage that didn’t work out. You couldn’t find it in yourself to allow Gojo to go through with it, despite knowing that was most likely what he was planning to do. An image of marching men, heading straight through a firey unknown, swords raised, and arrows drawn. You think of bloodstained letters finding their way home, wives crumbling upon finding the news of their husbands dead. Children left abandoned by their fathers and siblings. All of it in the name of a marriage. One marriage to survive while others withered away. Your eyes widened at the horrifying thought, trying to humor the other one. 

The one that included your separation.

Separating from the only man you’ve ever loved, who you consider to be your other half seemed…barbaric. You couldn’t imagine a life where you wouldn’t wake up next to him, couldn’t think of a day where he wouldn’t sneak through hallways and corridors just to surprise you with some flowers he had picked from the garden. Your mind flashed, thinking of what separation truly meant. Banishment, for you. Your old life wouldn’t accept you, his new wife wouldn’t want you near. There was nowhere you could go that you had any familiarity with.

You felt your knees give out from beneath you, falling to the floor as you hunch over, cradling your thighs to your chest. You feel stupid, knowing how childish you must’ve looked to him. But you felt like you had been plagued by every sort of emotion, and it was tethering you downwards, down where you felt more safe. 

Somewhere in the midst of this you could feel his guiding hands sprawl on your back, one slowly circling your shoulders. Gojo must’ve come down to meet you where you were, and you felt like a shell of a person as he gingerly pulled you toward his chest. 

One of his hands moved upwards to cradle the side of your head, his thumb rubbing up and down your forehead, as he shakily tried to wipe your watery tears away. If only you knew how much it pained him to see you cry. He wished you knew that he’d rather be shot with a thousand arrows than see you cry tears of sorrow.

He was talking, you knew he was because you could hear muffeled noises from above you that mirrored his tone and voice. But you couldn’t hear anything, trying your best to focus on the pieces of woven threads of the carpet beneath you.

“...alright,” you think he says, making out some words, “...will figure…out…alright?”

You can only nod. 

Alright?

—-

Nothing was alright. 

You’ve barely slept ever since you got the news. 

The people around you seem to have pieced together why you’re acting the way you are, and thankfully, they don’t push it. Alina doesn’t ask why you’ve suddenly grown so silent, none of your other maids jest stupidly when they feel you’re especially down, and even the younger girls don’t pretend to fawn over Gojo, gently applying rose water to your hair as they give you soft smiles. 

Everybody in the estate knows what’s happening, and nobody dares to bring it up. Wherever you go there seems to be a darkness that follows you. People go quiet when you walk past them, and looks of pity and solemness are clear on their faces. You feel like a ghost that’s wading through the halls with nowhere to go. You feel like a dead body roaming the land of the living. 

There were several of these meetings you went to, knowing that these ones should not be heard behind a closed door. You were told to come to more of them, but you slowly realized that the more you heard, the more sick you felt. 

A part of you was screaming at yourself, begging to see what was truly at stake. A simple marriage was not worth the countless lives at stake. No matter how long this feud was going on between the North and South, you knew that using your marriage was just another scheme to worsen it. 

The more you allowed yourself to think about the situation at hand, the more you felt yourself going mad. You knew that war wasn’t the right answer, and it wasn’t the one you wanted. You couldn't even begin to think about the piles of bodies, the smoke rising into the ashen sky as they were set on fire in Northern tradition. You think with a shudder about the homes raided, the women assaulted, just how much men turn to animals when war turns lawless. You think about the years to come, when there’s nothing left of you but bones. How you’d be remembered in the stories, as the selfish whore wife that wouldn’t separate from her husband and would rather watch lands be torn apart instead. So no, war wasn’t the option. 

But separating from your husband? How on earth was the better choice?

Perhaps a while ago you wouldn’t have wanted to separate from him because you refused to go back to your old life. You didn’t want to go back to your old room that could only be accessed through the dingy pantry and a dimly lit corridor.

You didn’t want the constant reminder of your untrue blood, how much of a bastard reminder you were to your fathers life. Months ago you would’ve tied yourself to a tree and let a bear feast off of you then become the social outcast again because you had lived through it once and would rather wind up dead. 

But now, you’d chain yourself to that tree because leaving Gojo might be the other thing that would tear you apart. 

You never thought it would be possible to be loved by another person who you love just as much. You had forced yourself into believing that tender care and pure adoration wasn’t something you would ever receive in this lifetime. In all honesty, you didn’t expect to receive it from Gojo Satoru either. But you did, and living a life without it would be more than empty. You knew you could never have him the way you do now, casted aside as another woman takes your place. And perhaps he might come to love her just as much, even more. But another part of you, the part that’s been trying to claw its way out ever since you were a little girl is screeching. Screeching that you deserved that shot of happiness, of joy, that those moments you shared with your husband should’ve only been shared by you two alone. 

A part of you wilts when you even begin trying to think of mornings without him. Without him pulling you into his chest, murmuring words of nonsense into your ear as you pretend to sleep. Your heart burns when you begin to think of him kissing another girl the way he kisses you, bringing her to parties and balls tied around his elbow. You know the ton would appreciate a princess with the lord of the north far more than you, and you can’t begin to imagine what would happen if Gojo began to prefer another union. One that benefited him more than it benefited his partner. 

You weren’t a jealous person by any means. Sometimes you got snippy, and sometimes you glared when women looked too long at your husband. But this was more than simple jealousy. It was biting away at you, taking away from the brightness that once bloomed across your entire body. 

Maybe deep down you thought you deserved that chance of a better life, and maybe that part of you was just too optimistic knowing the hand you’ve been dealt with up until now. 

But gods would sooner fall out of the sky than you tell all this to Gojo. Not the latter, at least. But regardless, it seemed to brew more and more arguments between the two of you as of late. 

“I don’t understand why this is something that still needs to be discussed,” Gojo bit out one night as he was undressing to sleep, taking off his uniform as he angrily hung it up. 

You had one hand wrapped around the bedpost, fidgeting with your necklace, the singular pearl moving back and forth as you shook your head. 

You knew it was a bad idea bringing up the war plans right now. It was one of the first nights where Gojo was actually free from his meetings, earlier than what had become the norm. But it was also the first time you had properly seen him in almost a week, and your mind was nothing if not still. 

“I���m not saying we terminate the marriage,” you pause when he snaps his neck over to you, his eyes darkening with a glare, “But surely we can’t be thinking of war. ‘Toru there has-”

“There is no other way,” his voice is deep, his back to you as he takes off his bottoms, kicking his heavy boots off as the thud against the wall, “I’ve told you this countless times I’m not separating from our marriage.”

Your chest is heavy, your heart churning, and he can’t tell. You know there are thousands of other things that are riddling his mind right now, but you wish he could see what you’re begging him to see. If there was one thing you’ve grown to know about Gojo is that his stubborn nature was unbridled and steady. 

You wanted him to take a second and understand, or perhaps he did understand but chose to see this as a black and white matter, the gravity of what he was suggesting. It had been years since an actual war had been fought. Years since men were sent in blind with only their swords and their wits to keep them alive. None of you had seen the true calamity of war, the sheer destruction that followed from it. Gojo was thinking as the cold hearted warrior he had been trained to be, but not like the man you had fallen in love with.

“What if you…gods,” you groan, exasperated and tired, “What if you take the princess on as another wife?” The suggestion itself tastes like poison, bitter poison on your tongue, and maybe it soothes you just a little bit when Gojo lets out a bitter chuckle, his hands gripping the table as his knuckles turn white. 

“Do you want me to do that? Truly?” He spits it out and you let out a deep sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose as you shrug helplessly. 

“No, fuck. No, I don't want you to do that! But what else can-”

He raises his hand upwards, something he does when he wants to interrupt you, and you clamp your mouth shut. 

“We’ve declared war today,” he glances at you from over his shoulder and your eyes widen, “It’s final.”

You crumble against the wooden pole, fingers curling into the bed sheets as you choke on air. Final? Your fingers are trembling, your lips quivering as it feels like you’re struggling to breathe. No, you know you are. You feel lightheaded, the little bits of dinner you had surging upwards, bile filling your mouth.

He hadn’t told you about any of this, had silently refused to tell you the status of this situation because he knew how loudly and adamantly you would protest it. But it was done now. There was nothing else you could do. 

Gojo looked over at you, his face that was once cold and unmoving shifting to one of worry. Moving away from the warrior he was forced to be this past month and back to your husband. 

He moves to where you were, but you shake your head, not bearing to look him in the eyes as you shakily make your way over to your side of the bed, climb in without a word and watch as your shoulders shake with silent sobs. 

His mouth opens and closes. He shuts his eyes, jamming his palms into his eyes as he clenches his fists. 

“I love you,” he whispers finally, and the words seem to carry slowly between your two bodies that to him seem oceans apart, “So much,” he feels like he’s choking on your silence, it’s thick and settles deep in his throat. He’s been punched, hit, kicked, beat and thrown before, but none of them have knocked the air from his lungs much like you staying utterly quiet. 

“I’m doing this for us,” his voice is wavering, why can’t you understand that he wants to yell, but won’t, he’d never raise his voice at you, “When this is all over we’ll go to the house near the ocean,” your heart cracks, “Remember how you wanted to go?”

Gojo watches as your shoulders stop shaking, the only sound in the room becoming your labored breaths. 

“Please, darling, please say something. Anything.”

You’re the only person Gojo would beg to. The only human who could hear his desperate pleas, the way his commanding voice would crack and crumble and shatter all at your mercy. You sniffle quietly, pulling the blanket closer to your chest. You love him, gods above you love him. You don't know yourself how much you love him. Sometimes it frightens you how much you do.

But in this moment, the man behind you was the Lord of the North and not your husband, and so you stayed quiet, letting the only sound that he heard of you be your cries.

—-

You can’t seem to find reasons to leave bed most of these days. 

Every time you look in the mirror, you feel like you’re staring back at a stranger. There are dark circles beneath your eyes, your lips chapped and cracking. Your cheeks have fallen, sullen and flat. Smiling has become a chore, laughing a rare occurrence. As the North was beginning to prepare and brace for the oncoming war, your home was starting to look more like housing quarters for troops rather than the place you used to adore.

You haven’t seen Gojo in a while, and each day it seems like he’s pulling away from you. At night, you barely see each other. He comes to sleep far later than you do and wakes up earlier and earlier with each passing day. Sometimes you’re awoken to the bed dipping when he climbs in, other times you pretend to be asleep even when he presses a lingering kiss to the side of your forehead, your fists balling up when he whispers a quiet I love you in your ear before he sleeps.

It’s not that you don’t love him. And you don’t fear him, you never have. Sometimes you curse yourself when you don’t mutter the words back, but you’re suddenly and crudely reminded that outside your bedroom walls, there were people actively preparing for a war being fought in your names, and it stills you from moving. 

It was becoming rare sharing a meal with your husband, even rarer to see him anywhere but the counseling chambers, and it no longer felt like it did months ago. Every time you walked past him, you two were so busy and wrapped in your own minds that you didn’t even acknowledge each other until it was too late, your neck twisting as he walked on by, and his body turning when you rounded the corner to another hallway. 

You wonder if this was truly the love that was fated to emerge from this marriage ever since the beginning. That the feelings you felt were mirrored in an act that Gojo was putting up with until this point, if this war was bound to happen and using the arrangement between you and Gojo as a catalyst for the chaos that was to follow. 

The idea that was slowly planted in your head began to flower, and it caused you to see things for what they weren’t. Eventually leading to looking blankly at the wall when he walked into your bedroom one night, hours earlier than when he usually comes, and you don’t even spare a glance to him.

“I’m leaving tomorrow.” 

Your head slowly turns to where he was standing at the door, eyes gradually making their way upwards to his face, lips parted. You were leaning on the headrest behind you, twisting and turning the ring around your finger. 

In this moment, you allow yourself to look at Gojo. You take in his disheveled appearance, the white stubble that was dotting across his jaw. A couple months ago you might’ve felt your cheeks heat up at the sight, never expecting for him to look so ruggedly handsome looking like this, but now, all you’re able to think about was how much this cursed war was taking away from time he cherished being able to shave himself clean. He looks worn down, aged, no longer the youthful and cheerful man you remembered. How was this happening? How was any of this real?

You blink, shaking your head a bit as you come back to reality, biting your tongue for a few seconds before you speak. 

“Leaving?” You finally ask, watching ashe nods, nearing where you were sitting on the bed, leaning down the untie the straps and leather clasps of his boots, letting out a sigh of finally being able to relax as he shrugs his coat off, running a hand through his white strands that seemed to be longer than from the last time you saw him. 

He nods dimly, his lips pressed into a thin line as he looks you over, his eyes falling when he takes notice of your crestfallen state, the way the light that was in your eyes has seemed to die out. 

“I have to go rally more allies across the West,” he explains, slowly making his way over to the bed as he drops down on the corner of it, his hand reaching out for yours but you don’t move, “Your father has promised us his troops but there are smaller cities scattered across that still need some convincing.”

Your fingers curl around your blanket, eyes pulled together in a furrow. 

“Let me come,” you tell him but he stares at you for a few seconds, trying to see if you were joking. 

When he realizes you're being serious he shakes his head, his blue eyes a dark color as he looks away for a second to stare at the wall. 

“It’s dangerous-“”

“But I know the cities!” You cry out, the first time you’ve heard your voice be this loud in a while, and it takes him by surprise as well, “I can help! I’ve been sitting here feeling like a duck waiting to be shot! I…” you stop for a second, the stupid tears that have seemed to become a common occurrence burning your eyes. 

You look away, biting your lip to keep it from shivering, hoping he doesn’t come near you. 

“This is my fault,” you whisper, “Everything that’s to come, it’s all my fault. If only I didn’t…” your voice cracks, your chin falling to your chest as your eyes wring shut, wanting to keep everything and everyone away. 

But Gojo, like always does, is drawn to you like a moth to a flame. You hear the sheets rustle as he moves across the bed and settles in beside you, his tall and lean frame shadowing over your body as you refuse to look at him, not wanting him to see how weak you’ve become. 

You feel one of his hands reach for your jaw, his fingers curling around your ear and holding the back of your head as he gently turns you to face him.  

You try desperately to keep your eyes somewhere else, focusing on his knees rather than him, but when you feel a tear escape and roll down your cheek, being wiped away by his thumb, you break, barreling yourself into his chest as you cry. 

His hands circle your body, caging you to him as you feel your chest shake. It’s painful and it burns, but you can’t seem to stop. You can feel his heartbeat ratting against his chest, a faint smell of smoke clinging to his skin. 

“None of this is your fault,” he murmurs against your head, “You’re not to blame for anything.” 

“Satoru, I,” your hands curl as they rest on your thigh, a tear catching on the tip of your nose, “I’m s-scared,” you choke, the words slurring on your tongue, “I’m so terrified all the time. This…this war, these plans, the strategies e-everyone keeps talking about,” your hand curls against his tunic, gripping into the fabric as if it was tethering you to the earth. 

Gojo takes in a deep breath, and you feel his lips pressing to the crown of your head, soft and warm. Oh, how you missed his lips. 

“There’s nothing to be scared about,” his voice is slightly muffled, but it’s steady and sure, “Everything will be alright.”

But you shake your head, a fresh wave of tears sprouting. 

“How do you know?” you’ve been asking yourself the same question over and over, “None of us have even lived through a war, l-let alone fight in one.”

“I,” Gojo sighs, and you imagine the pensive look on his face, “I don’t know. I have no idea how any of this is going to go. And,” he pauses, thinking briefly, “I’m scared too. I’m scared that all of our plans will go to shit and we’ll encounter a force we never expected. Everyday I examine different escape routes we should go through, creating different maps that might save us. I don’t know what I’m doing half the time,” he admitted with a solemn laugh, “But…but no matter what, I’ll still come back to you when all of this is over.”

Your breathing shudders, and you raise your head to look at him. You’re sure you look like an absolute mess, with tears staining your face, you’re constant sniffles to keep your nose under control, the reds of your eyes. But Gojo still smiles, his hands moving to either side of your face, his thumb moving back and forth across your cheeks. 

“There’s my girl,” his voice is barely above a whisper, but he sounds proud, his blue eyes lightening up a little bit. You let out a little cry when you see his tender smile, the way he looks at you like you’re the most beautiful person he’s ever seen. 

“P-promise, promise you’ll come back to me,” you say through broken sobs, wiping messily at your cheeks, your palm rubbing harshly against your chin so that the tears don’t fall against the sheets, “Promise me that you will come here again.”  

He nods, his own eyes wavering when he understands just how much this has been tearing you apart. One of his hands moves to cradle your head, bring you closer to his and he rests his forehead against yours with a quiet thump. 

His nose nudges yours, and his lips inches away from your trembling ones. Your eyes close shut, hands refusing to move away from his sturdy chest. 

“I, Gojo Satoru, will come back to you,” his voice is clear but heavy as if he intended for his words to travel across the world and through different lifetimes to end up back here, “I promise this to you. As your husband, as your friend,” his voice slightly cracks, “And as the man who loves you most ardently.”

You don’t give him another second before you pull him a little bit closer by the collar of his tunic to slam your lips against his. You hear him groan instantly from underneath you, but you don’t care. Your teeth move cruising against each other, your tears mixing with your spit. 

It’s messy but needed, an anchor that you’ve so desperately been craving. 

Gojo’s large hands move from your back to under your ass, cupping the flesh as he grips your thighs, pulling you into his lap as his finger trails upwards to your waist, his favorite spot. His slight stubble scratches against your skin, but you’re surprised to find that you like the feel, like the way he feels. 

He bites your bottom lip, slipping his tongue past yours when your mouth opens slightly and you moan against him, fingers curling tightly in his white strands of hair, tugging them harshly. It earns a deep groan from him, his fingers digging into the skin of your waist in a desperate attempt to keep himself steady. 

Your back arches closer, nails raking his scalp as you tilt his head back upwards for your lips to capture his. He moves at your will, slotting himself against you, working in tandem as your chests rise and fall at the same pace. 

You feel starved, needing to taste him, to feel him. You can’t remember the last time you’ve kissed him this feverishly, as if you’d die within moments if you didn’t have your skin melting against his. 

The seconds seem to blur together, and before you know it, there was a loud knock at the door. You squeal, almost shoving yourself off of him as the two of you look back to see what it was. 

“My, my lord?” The voice behind the door squeaks, most likely a younger soldier, “There’s been a slight shift in tomorrow's plans. The general wants to speak to you.” He clears his throat, most likely having heard your moans and you feel your cheeks heat up in embarrassment. 

You look back to Gojo, and see the way his head falls and his hands curl into fists on his thighs. 

Your hand traces the hot skin of his jaw, your thumb hooking underneath his chin to bring him back up to you. 

“Go,” you say quietly, a small smile on your face. You try to hide your disappointment, knowing this is more important.  

There’s a storm happening behind his eyes, swirls of blue and gray mixing together as his chest slightly heaves, his cheeks dusted with pink. One of his hands grips your waist, pulling you forward with no force as he kisses you once, twice more. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, kissing your cheeks softly, “I’ll come back tonight and I’ll wake you before I leave tomorrow.”

You nod, hoping he knows that you’ll be okay, and shift away slightly from his lap so that he can go. 

“I love you,” he mutters against the side of your head, looking deep into your eyes before he presses his last kiss against your forehead, “Sleep well, love.”

Your smile cracks slightly, and you swallow the lump in your throat as you cross out a measly love you most and watch silently as he puts his boats and coat back on and leaves within seconds. 

You stare at the messed up sheets and then to the door, accepting the fact that this would be your life from now on. 

—-

Gojo left the next morning, before the sun was in the sky. 

“It’ll only be three weeks at most,” Gojo assures you, and you look up to see his men preparing their horses, throwing saddles across them as they prepare their satchels of food and gear, “Two if I flatter my way through the cities.” 

You giggle a little bit, rolling your eyes, the most you could muster yourself to do and wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him closer to your body. 

“I’ll miss you,” you mutter, hoping nobody could hear the way your voice was barely surviving it’s need to break, “Come back as soon as you can.” 

Gojo sprawls a hand across your back, tipping you up by the chin to meet his lips in another kiss. A while ago you might have felt shameful and scandalous for kissing your husband like this out in the open, but everybody was so distracted with their own tasks that they wouldn't bother to look at you right now.

You pull away slightly, cheeks heating when his pupils grow slightly, and place a hand across his sternum, rubbing up and down the vigil of the North that was pinned to his coat. 

“I will,” he says, pulling you in for a tight embrace as you hug him with as much strength as you have, your cheeks pressed against his shoulder as his chin rests on the top of your head, “I’ll be back before you even realize I was gone.” 

That was a few days ago, but with how little you already saw him before he left, it felt a little bit true to his words. You were so busy trying to help the war efforts around the estate that missing your husband happened in the quiet moments when you were allowed to have some silence to yourself, or in the late hours of the night when you hugged his pillow close to your chest. 

When nights would come and you had had your dinner and were making your efforts to sleep, you requested to only have Alina help you get undressed and ready. She was the one you felt closest too, and the only one who never seemed to bombard you with sympathy. And after a grueling day, that was all you needed.

“Would you like some lavender oil?” 

You look up from the counter, putting your necklace back in its case as your eyes meet her brown ones in the mirror. 

“Not tonight, Alina, thank you,” you say and she nods, setting the glass bottle back down as she picks up some of the rose water, native to the North, and begins doting it across your neck, head and wrists.

There was a slight breeze that was wafting in through your open window. Fall was quickly approaching, but you were trying to hold on to the last bits of the cool summer air before the biting winds staked their spot until the next spring. 

“Would you like me to close the window?” Alina glanced over to the rustling curtains, flowing freely, and you shrugged, taking off your earrings as you placed them down gently on the little plate Gojo had given you as a gift a while ago. 

“I prefer the breeze,” you reply, wiping your face with a damp cloth, “Thank you, though,” you offer her a small smile, one that she reciprocates. 

Alina finishes up some things, and the two of you work in comfortable silence. She knows just how much you need these little things to help keep you sane, and as much as she’s been trained to help out her lady in any means possible, as your friend, she lets you do some things alone.

After a few more minutes pass Alina clasps her hands on her hips, and you let out a small giggle, knowing she was done. 

“I don’t see why you need me here,” she grumbles, pushing some hair away from her face and you snort, standing up from your chair as you flick her shoulder gently. 

“You’re good company,” you simply say, moving around your room as you go to the little corner where you keep some of your books. 

Alina pushes the chair back in and makes her way to the door, bidding you a good night before she pauses, looking back at the window. 

“My lady?” She says, and you look up from the shelf, glancing over to her. You raise a brow, waiting for her to continue. 

“I know it’s not my place, but my mother always told me to sleep with the windows closed. You never know how cold the night might get and I don’t want to see you waking up with a fever.”

You look back to the window and the rustling curtains and grin, nodding. 

“I’ll close them in a bit,” you tell her and note how her shoulders ease and a smile makes its way onto her face. 

“Goodnight my lady,” she tells you, and you say the same thing, making sure she’s all gone before you let the smile drop, your cheeks hurting, and look back to the bookshelf. 

You’ve seen how worried she’s gotten as of late regarding your nature, so you’ve tried being a little more cheerful around her even if it pains your soul to act like nothings wrong. 

Your fingers card through different books, reading the spines as you try to find something that might help put you to sleep. Finally you find a title of a book you’ve read before, maybe a few years ago, and pull it out, examining the cover. 

You move around to your bed and place it near your pillow. You fill the glass on your stand with some water from your pitcher, setting down as you go to the vanity to blow out the candles that were lit. 

There were only a few left, and you just wanted to save the one next to your bed so you could read. You move past the window, going to the corner of the room, blowing the third remaining candle out. 

You feel the hair on your arm prick up from the sudden rush of cold air, goosebumps trailing in their wake, and you walk back to the window, pushing aside the long drapes as you reach your arms out to find the knobs that would pull them in towards you. 

Until a sudden force knocks you down to the ground. 

It takes you half a second to realize that you hadn’t tripped on something, and that the reason why your head didn’t hit the floor causing a thud to be heard was because something, somebody, was on top of you. 

A man. There’s a man lying on top of you. 

This can’t be happening. 

You go to scream, but a hand flies to cover your mouth, pinning your legs and wrists down by a heavy leg and their other hand, effectively holding your writhing body still. 

Your eyes are squeezed shut as you try to move, biting the hand that’s over your mouth but it doesn’t budge. You feel your heartbeat as fast as it ever has against your ribcage, your fingers trying to grab something, anything, that could help you. 

“If you make any noise I’ll cut your tongue straight from your mouth, you hear me?”

Your eyes slam open, looking straight at the face hovering above yours. 

A brute of a man is looking down at you. You yell again, but he presses his hand down even harder, his rough skin meeting your teeth as your voice becomes muffled. 

He’s gigantic, looking more like an ogre than a man. His hooked nose and sly lips are pulled into a sleazy smile as he looks down at you, his greasy black hair pulled back behind his ears. His arms are the size of boulders, his legs looking like they were strong enough to push boulders. His teeth are yellow and crooked, and he lets you see them when he talks. 

You feel something sharp press to your side, and in your frantic state you’re able to wiggle a little bit to tilt your head down to see what it is. Your eyes widen when you see the glimmering dagger, its edge serrated. Its tip was so sharp that you could feel it cutting into your skin and you knew he wasn’t pressing as hard as he possibly could. 

“Stay. Still.” The man grunts again, licking his teeth as you shake, shaking your head as your hands open and unopened, not knowing what else to do. 

“I’m going to move my hands from your mouth,” he says next, slowly and quietly, “There’s a couple things I need you to do for me. But I swear that if you make a single squeak, any fucking noise, I’ll gut you like a fish, hm?” 

Your eyes are shaking, brows pulled taut as you try to move around but to no avail. The knee that was pressing down onto your thigh digs in deeper, his bone searing into your flesh as you whine in pain. 

“Do you understand?” He whispers in your ear, his hot breath fanning over your skin. The knife is still pointed at your hip, and he presses it just a bit deeper, and you’re sure if he goes any more he’ll draw blood. 

You look at the man, at the deep set scars that run all across his face. You take in the glint that shimmer in his eyes, the pure evil that drips from his grin. You can smell the blood drying on his clothes, and can almost taste iron the closer he gets to you. 

You want to fight back, but you can’t. 

Your mind races back to those days when you had asked Gojo to let you spar with him, wanting to know how to defend yourself. There were some moments when you felt like you could take him down, but he’d always find a weak spot of yours and bring you tum biking to the ground. But he would always help you up with a gentle smile, apologizing profusely as he kissed your cheeks. This man was far bigger than Gojo, and his smile wasn’t kind the way he was. You knew you couldn’t overpower him, not in the slightest. 

So you slowly nod, your tears falling freely from the corners of your eyes, rolling back onto the floors as the man grunts. 

Slowly and surely, he moves his hand away from your face, still keeping the rest of his body pinning yours. Your lips are trembling, your body almost convulsing as you wait for him to speak. 

He gives it a second, making sure you weren’t going to pull anything before he decides you’re compliant enough, or rather not willing to die, to listen to his orders. 

“Good job,” he mutters, his voice pricking at your skin like a thousand needles, his greasy smile making you want to hurl, “There’s three things I need you to do. Nod if you understand.”

You look back at him. He presses the knife into your hip, and your teeth dig into your lip, knowing that he for sure broke skin. 

Your eyes squeeze shut in pain as you slowly nod. 

“First, from here on out, be as quiet,” his voice is low, “Don’t let anybody outside think anything.”

He pushes himself slightly off of you, trying to get a feel of how loud the floorboards creaked. When he was satisfied that they wouldn’t make a sound, he moved his hulking body away from yours, carefully standing up. 

You feel your heart lurch when you see him at his true size, nearly three heads taller than Gojo, and even more packed with muscles. 

“Stand up,” he motions for you to do the same, not until he warns, “Slowly.” 

You’re frozen in place, your arms and legs losing all function. The man looks down at you through his dark stare, seeing that it’s taking you too long, and bends down to loop a hand around your elbow. 

He drags up upwards like you weigh nothing, your lungs refusing to work as you gasp for air. 

When you're on your feet, you feel like throwing up, your head dizzy, nose wrinkling at his strong odor that reeks of onions and ale. 

“Walk over to that table,” he nudges his chin over to the desk that is littered with Gojo’s maps and scrolls and your books, “And sit down at the chair.”

You can only stare at him, biting your tongue, hoping this was all a nightmare. 

But the man just stares back at you, waiting. He flashes you the dagger again, it’s too stained with your blood, and your legs, however weak, seem to work faster than your mind. You feel like a newborn lamb learning how to walk as you somehow make your way over to the table, his presence never leaving from behind your back. 

Your legs shake as you set yourself down on the wooden chair, tears biting at your cheeks as you wait for his next instructions. 

Behind you, you hear something rustle. You don’t want to look to see what he’s doing, but you’re able to pick out a bag being opened carefully, some papers scratching against each other. 

It takes a few more seconds but the sounds stop, and suddenly a piece of parchment falls down next to you. 

“Write down on a piece of sheet that repeats what is written there,” he tells you, and your eyes dart down to the parchment, tears blurring your vision. 

“W…” your words are slurring together, and you can’t hear your own voice, “What?”

You’re quiet, but the man hears you. 

He just shoves the parchment closer to your face, saying nothing. 

Your eyes fall down to the words scattered across the price, black ink staining its yellow color, and you blink your eyes a couple of times to read what it says. The handwriting is foreign to you, something you can’t recognize. You don’t know how, with everything your mind was going through, you were able to read properly, but you felt your stomach drop when your eyes scanned through the first couple of sentences. 

My love, with a heavy heart I write to you, but there is no other way to break my thoughts to you. I can no longer sit and watch what you plan to do in my name…your eyes skim a further but down, the blood you’re willing to spill is unlike what I thought you to be capable of. You’ve become cruel and inhuman, and I refuse to have myself tied to a man that desires death the way you do…

Your mouth drops a little, your jaw slacking when you realize what the note was saying. This was a goodbye letter. 

I have to leave. I could never, under any gods’ sky, pretend to keep loving a man as barbarous as you.

Your heart stops. 

“Write that down girl,” the man’s gruff voice interrupts, “Here.”

He scavenged through the piles of discarded plans and strategies, finding a clean sheet of parchment that was untouched by ink. 

You shake your head, looking over your shoulder as your tears drop from your chin. 

“I,” you swallow thickly, trying to force down the vomit that was at the back of your throat, “I can’t…write…”

The man snorts, his arms crossing over his large chest as he shrugs. 

“If you don’t write, I’ll gut that girl that you favor so much,” he twists the daggers handle in his large palm, “The only with the curls. Gods, it’d be a shame though. I might have a taste of her before…”

You tune him out, ears filling with water as you realize he’s talking about Alina, your fingers trembling against the wood of the table as you look down at the pre-written note and the blank parchment he had set in front of you. 

Your mind was blanking as you try to ration what’s happening. 

You look a little bit to your left at the pot of ink and the quill Gojo was always scratching away with. Before you can think any other thought, you feel cool metal pressing against your neck. 

The man is right behind your chair, his daggers blade a breath away from your skin. He’s holding your jaw in place, forcing your head down at the table. 

His fingers are rough and calloused, stained with blood and dirt, and you gasp slightly, eyes blurring once again as you turn still. 

“Write.” He whispers thickly in your ear. 

You don’t move, and the dagger presses down, your lips falling open in a silent cry as you feel it cut through some skin, blood beginning to stain your nightdress. 

Mindlessly, your hand moves to the ink and quill. You feel like you've left your body as your fingers grasp the quill, dipping it into the little pot, and set it down to the paper. 

You feel like you’ve left your own self as you look back to the note, chewing your lips raw as you write down the first word. The dagger is still against your throat, unrelenting as you begin to write. You don’t know how none of your tears have yet to stain the paper, but you don’t what the stranger would do if that were to happen. 

A part of you blacks out when you write, your eyes open but not understanding anything in front of you no matter how hard you try.

Your quill suddenly stops, and you feel the man leaning in behind your shoulder, the dagger loosening away from you as he lifts the two pieces of parchment up. 

You don’t know when you finished, or what you write, but in the silence that it takes for him to read yours through, you get the grasp that you must’ve done something correctly because he seems satisfied, setting your version down on the table. 

He steps away from you, and you watch from the corner of your eyes as he takes the original piece to one of your candles, holding it over the flames as it catches fire. He watches as it burns, the ashes falling into his other hand. When it’s all burnt up, he scatters it out the window, the wind doing its job as it takes any remains of what it was away from here. 

He looks back at you with a smile. 

“Last thing,”

Your head sways. 

“Fill this bag,” he holds up an empty satchel, “Fill it with things you’d take if you were to run away.”

You blink slowly at him, your mouth going dry. 

You can’t speak, but he can tell you’re confused. 

“We need to make it seem like, well,” he shrugs, his lips pursed together, “That you wrote that note and ran away. Pick out some clothes, jewelry, and coins. Make the room messy.”

Your heart beats slowly in your chest when you start to understand what it was he was asking you to do. 

He holds up his weapon, its edges shining red with your blood, and he points it to the door. 

“I know you’d hate to hear her scream,” he says, and you dimly nod. 

You set the quill down gently on the table, moving carefully from your chair as you walk towards his outstretched hand. Your fingers tremble as you take it from him, walking slowly towards your dresser. 

He’s right behind you, the knife pointed at your waist so that you don’t think of doing anything, and you quietly open the door, grabbing some hoods, slips, common clothes, nightwear and undergarments. You shoved it in until the bag was nearly full. 

You did as you were told, taking the rest of your clothes and scattered it across the ground, throwing some things onto your bed. 

He grunted behind you, most likely a little surprised with how compliant you were. 

You drift to your vanity, shoving some necklaces and earrings in the satchel, not wanting to take all because it was actively killing you to do this. 

“That’s good,” the man says after a couple minutes and you pause, your back still to him. 

You set the satchel down and turn slowly around, hoping this would be enough. That your night was done and that he would let you go. 

“Oh, and,” his eyes drop down to your empty hands, pouting the tip of the blade to your finger, “Leave the ring.”

Your eyesight goes blurry.

You feel lightheaded, gripping into the edge of the table as you heave for air. Leave the ring? Leave? Leave?

“We don’t have all night,” he explains, making that his reasoning for why he so suddenly takes your hand, his large fingers circling around yours as he roughly yanks off the piece of jewelry, throwing it next to some other pieces you had lying on the table. 

You can only stare blankly at it as he moves around, stare as the gold glimmers in the soft candlelight. It looks the same way it did the first time you saw it, when Gojo had placed it on your finger when he was saying your vows. It was a simple ring, a gold band that didn’t have any stones on it. Gojo later explained that while he had told you earlier it was usual something he had picked out, his mother had gifted it to him. 

You feel a force hit the back of your head and suddenly, everything goes black. 

—-

Waking up hurt. 

You blink once, twice and then for a final time before you feel like you can see accurately again. Your head was throbbing, a dull pain at the back of your skull. You go to rub it, but notice that your hands are bound together by rope. 

Coming to your senses you realize that the rope wasn’t the only problem. The wobbling motion you first had wasn’t from your stomach ache, but because you were rocking back and forth on a horse. 

You sit up a little bit in shock, but the motion causes you to wince, your body sore and aching. 

“I wouldn’t move if I were you.” 

That voice. 

So it wasn’t a nightmare. 

The wall that you felt behind your back wasn’t a wall, but was in fact the same man who had forced his way into your room at night, made you write that letter, packed your things and leave…

Leave home. 

All around you was a sprawling field, no sign of life from as far as you could tell. You had no idea how long you were unconscious, or how long you had been on horseback, but the North usually didn’t get grass to grow this tall seeing how the cold winters usually killed them. There was a breeze, but it wasn’t as biting as it should be. 

You were glad to see that your mouth was wrapped shut, but that also put a strike of fear through you. If the man wasn’t afraid of you screaming, then there surely wouldn’t be anybody around to save you. 

You were alone. 

A part of you was on the verge of breaking down, screaming until you coughed up blood and your throat became raw. But you knew that if you wanted to stay alive, if you wanted to go come, you had to keep onto your wits. It was either that or you froze, not moving, becoming a shell of a human, the same way you were that night when this all happened. And you had seen what it could do, had seen how your own body would betray you, and you vowed to never let that happen again. 

“How long has it been?” 

Your own voice shocks you. Your throat is dry, seeing how you haven’t opened it in a while, and the sentence comes out like a croak. You swallow some spit, hoping it would help with the scratchiness you were feeling. The horse moved slowly through the pasture, the sun shining but not beating down on your face in an unforgivable way. 

The man clicked his tongue against his teeth, his hands holding onto the reins. 

“Nearly six days,” he says gruffly, and your eyes widen, not expecting for it to have been almost a week that you’d been out, “Thought I’d killed you.” 

Five days? 

You try to do the math in your head. It had been almost six days since Gojo had left when the man came into your room, and with these five days, it would be almost a week since Gojo was gone from home. If the travel West took as long as it did for you, then he’d be almost there by now. But you didn’t know how mail would travel, or how long it would take till he’d come back home to figure out what the problem was. 

Depending on which direction the man was going, it could take weeks until they found you. Fields like this weren’t uncommon in the North, but the weather wasn’t. It reminded you a bit of home, but Western nature was dry and glaringly hot. Even in the fall, you’d still break a sweat after being in the sun. 

And given how prepared this man was, he surely wouldn't be heading there, most likely knowing that Gojo was there as well. You had seen enough maps and heard enough talk around the counsel to know that it would take almost two weeks to travel Westward, but almost three weeks to arrive in the Eastern nations. 

Judging by the landscape you had seen on paper and that you’re surveying now, this man was taking you somewhere East. 

“Did the king send you?” You ask, your head dipping downwards so that you could angle your ears to hear him better. 

He pauses, and you wonder if you’d asked the wrong question, if he was going to make you suffer in some way for crossing the line. You still couldn't work out his motive. If he was truly sent by the king, then why wouldn’t he have killed you in your room? Why go through the hassle of making you seem like you had run away?

Killing you and showing the North your body would send a greater message than whatever this was. Taking you without making it seem like an abduction was strange, even for the South, and so you desperately wanted to know what it was that had put you in this situation.

“A friend of his did,” the man finally says, and when he falls quiet, you realize that this was all he was going to say. 

So he was from the South. And he didn’t seem like he’d be a lying man, he’d have no reason for it. The more you thought about it, it made more sense that the king didn’t send direct orders to abduct you. But that made you furrow your brows in confusion. If the king was ready to wage war, why would an abduction be something he wanted hidden? 

“Why didn’t you kill me?” you ask after a beat of silence, your body swaying in tandem with the horse. You could feel your dried tears crusting near your eyes, your lips battered, iron coating your tongue the more you spoke, causing the wound to open up.

“I will, but not here.” 

You bite your cheek, your hands shaking. 

“Will you take me up to your king to make a spectacle out of me?” You try to keep your voice from wavering, from showing him any signs of fear. 

The man chuckles, spitting to the road. 

“I’ll kill you somewhere where there’s a lot of trees, hide your body so that nobody can find it,” he explains, and you feel your heartbeat in the palms of your hands, “Make it seem like you ran away.” 

You try not to let your lips tremble, instead, you try to piece the clues he was giving you together. If the king truly wanted to make it seem like you were running away, then it means that he would want your spot as Lady of the North to appear vacant. He would want Gojo to think that you didn’t care for him anymore, and that you wanted out of this marriage, which would make room for… 

His daughter. 

But if the king wanted his daughter to marry into the Gojo family, you wonder why he didn’t do this whole abduction in the first place. You sigh deeply through your nose, looking down at your hands, your fingers moving around slightly but to no avail. While you’re trying to see if there was any wiggle room, a thought runs through your head.

The king wasn’t expecting this…

You wonder if perhaps the king promised war in a way of bluffing, or hoping that Gojo would terminate the marriage and take on the princess to avoid any trouble. This wasn’t his first plan, you decide, but him trying to save the skin of his teeth. He wasn’t expecting the North to retaliate, to declare a war of their own. He didn’t see Gojo carrying this much for his arranged bride, and didn't think that the young lord would rather die than marry another woman. But the king underestimated Gojo, and sent this man to answer for his mistake. 

If it seemed like you found Gojo repulsive, that you no longer loved him, then he could search all he wanted to, but if he never found you, or your body, then he would come to the eventual conclusion that you had run away. Either way, this would make it so that he would call off the war. Maybe in attempts to fix the now shattered relationship between the two nations, a marriage between Gojo and the princess might actually take place.

Your hopes deflate, knowing the letter you were forced to write might also be more realistic than some Southern scribes realized. With the way you had argued countless times with Gojo over the chance of ending the possibilities of war, he might read it as an actual goodbye. 

The thought makes you sick. 

So, you decide to busy yourself with trying to find an escape option. 

Your wrists were chafing with how tightly the rope was tied, but the knot around it was tied in a way that seems to have shifted in the days you had been riding. The man behind you is tall, but sitting down, he can only see above your head, and he’d have to force himself up to peer down at your lap. 

Slowly, over the span of a few minutes, you’re able to position the rope closer to the bottom of your palm, your thumb and pointer finger reaching for the knot. A small smile graces your face when you're able to pinch it between the two fingers. 

You stop your movements, not wanting to make anything obvious, and then start back up after a couple minutes of silence passed. 

With the knot now closer to your finger, you begin picking at it with your nail. You know your nail is dull and cut through it, but you think that if you nudge at it enough, you might be able to create a small opening that would allow you to slip your pointer finger through it and unravel it. 

“I think it would be fair to share your name,” you say, not wanting the man to think anything of your silence, and you begin to execute your plan, fiddling away with the rope with your finger as you raise your head up, not wanting to keep your stare directed at your lap, looking ahead at the field. 

Wind blows through your body, ruffling the nightdress that you were still wearing. The man at least had some decency to put a cloak over you, hiding your body from being entirely bare. The more you looked at the field, the more it reminded you of the one that surrounded the Gojo estate. You blink and see him sitting there, his back on the grass, an arm resting behind his head, his white hair sprawled out as he held you close to his chest, telling you stories from his childhood. You blink again and see nightfall, see him with his tunic off, telling you about the scar on his torso. You see him professing his feelings, telling you how much he loved you. You blink again and see the field, your nose twitching slightly.

“My name?” The man repeats with a slight chuckle, most likely shaking his head in disbelief. Out of all the people he’s taken, out of all of the people he’s been sent out to kill, you’ve been the weirdest behaving out of all of them.

You nod, your finger working away at the knot, and you cough to cover up the noise when you make a particularly loud scratch. 

“My name changes based on the man who hires me,” he says after a minute, and you almost want to look back at him in confusion.

“What was the name you gave to the employer who sent you out to find me?” You ask, trying to wiggle some fingers around, bracing your thighs around the horse, trying to keep yourself balanced and upright. 

The man breathes deeply through his nose, as if he was contemplating telling you. There’s no reason not to tell you, if his plan is to kill you anyways. But you plan to escape, and you want to know the name of the man who put you through this hell.

“Toji,” he finally says, and you commit it to memory, your mouth falling in the shape of the name, “But I’ll change it for my next employer.” 

You go to say something else, but almost let your disguise slip when you feel your finger make its way through the knot. You move it in circles, moving it across, and slowly you feel the knot begin to unravel. You keep your hands pressed tightly together, but in a few seconds the rope has become undone. 

You stare at it in shock, not expecting for it to take so little time to unravel, but you look ahead again, shifting a little bit as you begin to think about what to do next. 

You can feel the sheath of his dagger digging into your back. You remember how it looked when you first saw it, and can confidently say that this was the thing that was there. It was large, but given how large his weapon was, you weren’t surprised to find it had an even larger cover. 

You didn’t know how fast you could move, nor how fast he could. You didn’t know if there was a latch or specific way to take the weapon out, but as far as you could remember, that was the only weapon he seemed to operate with. If you were able to harm him in some way and get him off of the horse, you might have a chance of escaping.

Though there was the obvious challenge, he knew how to fight far better than you. What’s to say that you get the dagger but he doesn’t get it out of your hands even faster? And if you did manage to wield it, how fast would it take for him to understand what had happened, how fast his reflexes were? If he’s had multiple employers before, then he must be skilled in his trade, putting you at an immense disadvantage. 

But you knew that if you didn’t try, you’d die at his hands. You knew you’d rather die fighting and on your own accord than at the merciless dagger of a stranger who was paid to kill you.

You let the silence grow, wanting the man to think that you had fallen asleep. You let your head hang down, your chin to your chest, and you slowly, quietly and gently begin the snake one hand out from the ropes. 

The man grumbles to himself from time to time, spitting to the side every now and then, but from what you can tell, is still unsuspecting. 

You know it’s a matter of seconds that gives you the advantage, and that any slight fumble or mistake will be catastrophic. You tell yourself that you have to twist your back quickly, pull the weapon out with your right hand, and strike him through the chest. You don’t know if one strike would be enough to take him down, but it would be enough to have you force him off the horse and take the animal for yourself.

You breathe deeply through your nose, calming your nerves. 

And then, you turn. 

You’re met with his face, your hand reaching for the weapon, and see the way his eyes slowly fall down to your fingers, and then to you, but you’ve calculated his brutish daftness enough to know that a moment of surprise would be his doom.

It doesn’t take much effort to get the dagger, but his hand quickly shoots for your throat, his fingers wrapping around your skin as he squeezes tight, restricting your airways. You choke, trying to cough, but with the way he’s seated on the horse you know you can’t falter. Your hold on the weapon weakens, but you still drive it forward, and are met with the satisfying sound of his groan. 

His hand around your throat falls, and you pull out the dagger only to drive it further up his chest, into his ribs.

The man, Toji, grips the handle, but you push with as much force as you can muster at his shoulders. You wonder if he’s ever had people fight back, if he’s ever dealt with somebody striking him hard enough to draw blood. 

With the way you’re positioned; your dress and robe still underneath him, he takes you down with him. You fall to the ground with a hard thud, wincing at the pain that shoots again through your head. Your vision has gone blurry again, but you can make out the man stumbling on the ground, grasping at his chest in shock. 

You place your hands on the ground, forcing yourself up. Your head is spinning, swaying up and down, but you know you have to get back up on that horse. 

He’s shouting at you, saying something but you stand up, almost falling back down with how your legs are shaking, but you hold yourself upright by the horse's saddle. You’re shocked that it hasn’t been spooked away, but don’t find time to question why. 

You’ve ridden enough times before to know how to haul yourself up, but it’s a trying effort that takes a couple swings. The man is still on the ground, clutching at his wounds, and you can’t revel in your victory just yet. 

When you’re up on the horse you feel your vision start to clear up a bit and your ears stop ringing. 

You look down to the man, trying to make out what it was he was saying. 

“...can’t go back,” he spits, blood coating his lips, staining them red as he coughs out more, “they’d never take you back.”

You stare at him, dazed. 

“You committed treason,” his voice is hoarse, and he tries to grab at your foot but you kick it away, “That letter? Don’t you remember?” he smiles darkly, and his teeth as red, “And if you go back, the king,” he chokes, spitting out some blood, but he chuckles, a mad look in his eyes, “The king would kill every single person you care about. He’ll rip the throats from your maids, send an army of unkillable men to kill y-your dear lord.” 

You look down, his words slowly making their way into your brain. 

The letter. 

You remember now. It wasn’t just a goodbye, but a confession of even further betrayal. You had denounced the North and its power, had said that the Lord of the North was an enemy of every state. 

And even if you did go back to prove that you were forced to write it, what’s to say that his words weren’t correct? If he was able to spy on you long enough to know your schedule, your maids, when to attack, then the South was truly capable of sending in more assassins. And Gojo might be able to take them, but what about Alina? What if the king decided to target Gojo’s parents, your friends, people you’ve come to care deeply about? 

The man grins cruelly when he sees the way you begin to understand his words, the threat behind them. 

The man wasn’t standing up not because he was weakened, but because he knew that even if he didn’t kill you, you’d wind up dead anyways. He knew you’d give up and let him go through with his initial plan. Because in that case, only you’d be dead. But you returned back to the Gojo estate and would have you killed, alongside everyone else you loved. 

But…but if you ran, ran away to somewhere hidden, it might be avoided. The war, the bloodshed, everything. You could actually be doing something good. 

He laughs, blood falling from  his lips, staining the floor when he sees the tears fall down your cheeks. You go to wipe them away, but it doesn’t matter anymore. In that moment you’ve made up your mind, have seen that there was no other way. 

You’d be leaving behind the man you loved in return for saving his life, as well as everyone else's. 

You think about his smile, the way his lips felt against your skin when he kissed you goodbye. You think about the way he laughs, a hearty sound that makes you laugh in turn. You think about the warmth you felt when wrapped in his embrace, the way he smelled like cinnamon after spending time with you in the kitchens. Your heart churns when you think about the love you hold for him, just how much it drived your everyday life. How you’d do anything to save him, even if it wasn’t a lot. You think about Gojo, and how for a little moment in time, you truly had the world in your hands. How he would do the same if the roles were reversed, knowing that the way you feel for him is just as intense as how much he feels for you.

And you finally think about how leaving might preserve those little things, even if not for your experience. If you were to disappear, this might all be forgiven. And that was a price you decided there that you had to pay. 

You turn away from him, and maybe under different circumstances you might have gloated at the confusion that takes over his face, not knowing why you weren’t stepping down. 

With shaking fingers and a shattering heart you look ahead, kicking the side of the horse as you send it running. You could hear his yells from behind you, calling for you to come back, but you kept repeating in your head that this was the only way.

Your eyes were blurring with tears from just how fast the wind was hitting your face, your cheeks and nose growing cold. You leaned forward, holding onto the reins with all the strength you had. 

Please forgive me Satoru, your mind begged, please forgive me.

—

“Miss?” 

You dream of a sound, a soft, gentle sound. It circles around you like a mothers tender care, making the coldest parts of your soul warm slightly. You smile a little bit when you imagine it again.

“Miss?”

A shower of icy water, colder than anything you’ve ever felt, washes over you, and your eyes sprout wide open, your mouth open in a loud gasp as you sit up as fast as you can, your chest heaving up and down with labored breaths. Your fingers jump to your face, trying to wipe off the freezing feeling away, and blink rapidly, trying to get a grasp of where you were. 

“Miss?” 

Your head swivels to the voice, and you feel your eyes burning. The voice is overshadowed with the burning sun behind them, but they crouch down over you, shoving you with a little force. You blink again, trying to make the spots go away. 

A woman, you think. Not Gojo. 

The last thing you remember was going to sleep, your stomach empty after multiple days of night finding any food, shivering your soul away as you curled up. The horse that you had stolen was set free a couple days ago after you felt bad for not being able to provide anything for it to eat or drink. Knowing that it had left somewhere for itself puts you in a better state of mind. 

You couldn’t remember how many days it had been since you had run away. You lost track after the twentieth night. You had no map to guide you, nobody you trusted to tell you where to go. You walked around with a hood over your head, looking through different towns and villages, scrapping around for their garbage.  You were running both from the man that had been sent to kill you, but your old life as well. You didn’t know if Gojo believed the letter, if he had sent people out to look for you. You knew you just had to get as far away from the North as possible, even if it meant you die trying.

After a few days of doing this, your feet had given out, marked with blisters and scraps, and you fell in your spot, sleeping near a tree as you let the exhaustion finally settle deep in your bones. You remember closing your eyes, thinking of the time when Gojo woke you up with sweets from the bakery you adored. You could smell the sugar beneath your nose, your fingers itching to grab one, your mind not able to tell what was imagination and reality anymore. You would wager that hunger was making you do this, but you couldn’t care anymore.

You can only look at her, forgetting the words needed to form a proper sentence. 

“Are ‘ye alright?” She asks you finally, and you can slowly begin to make out the crease in her face and the color of her eyes. You can see the wrinkles that adorn her forehead and cheeks, all scrunched up together in worry as she looks down at you.

Your hands pat themselves across your body, trying to make sure you weren’t dead. It had been a while since you had spoken to someone, especially when they weren’t throwing sticks at your head to get you to stop looking through their discarded piles of vegetables. 

You swallow thickly.

“Can ‘ye hear me?” She asks louder, bending down a little closer to you as she rests her hand on your forehead. 

She doesn’t seem too old, most likely a few years older than your father, but you feel stricken by her appearance. A part of you wonders if you truly have died and this was the afterlife; an old lady taking care of you. 

But with how hard she’s jamming her finger into your ribs it makes you think otherwise. 

“Are ‘ye hungry darling?” She continues to talk, her gray brows pinching together as she glances over your frail appearance, “Would ‘ye like something to eat?”

Your eyes widen slightly and she takes note of it. 

A small smile makes its way onto her face as she eases back upwards. 

“My husband and I own a small tavern,” she says, and with the sun framing her head she looks like a divine power, “I’ll take ‘ye there.”

You stare at her outstretched hand, look at her fingers, at the way they’re reaching out to you. You can’t remember the last time somebody offered you help, or looked at you like you were more than a common thief. You’d cry if there was any water left in your system. 

But slowly you raise your hand, holding hers as she heaves you up. You show her your feet, and she tells you not to worry. She sits you on the back of her donkey, telling you that the animal looks stronger than you’d think. 

You don’t have any will to argue, letting the old woman, who told you to call her Miss Murray, guide you and the donkey through a dirt road. You sway in and out of consciousness, blinking to find the scenery changed from what you last remembered. 

Miss Murray talks to you, but you don't have any energy to respond. She checks behind her shoulder sometimes to make sure you were still alive, and would only look back to the road when she was satisfied you were. 

It takes nearly another thirty minutes before you start seeing little homes begin to appear from over the hill. There’s a town in the distance, one that you see is bordering a vast blue ground. 

The ocean?

You blink to make sure you were hallucinating. 

You were only aware of larger cities that bordered the ocean, but this was a small little town at most. The roads were dirt and unpaved, the homes made of wood and layers of hay. The cities you were aware of were far richer, their structures made of sturdy stone and glass. And you knew that despite your delirious travels, you hadn’t rerouted and gone back up North, the only other place you knew that had cities near the water. 

“Home,” Miss Murray says with a content sigh and you look at her, your eyes slightly squinted in confusion. 

You swallow some spit, trying to wet your mouth. 

“Where,” your voice sounds foreign to you, and even the woman looks back in surprise when she hears you trying to speak. Your fingers are at your throat, wanting to have your voice sound normal. 

“Where a-are we?” You finally get out, and the woman smiles gently at you. 

“As far east as ‘ye can get,” she replies and you look back to the ocean. The water is shining off of the sun, the cold air that’s biting at your skin is a reminder of the winter that’s about to come. 

The color reminds you of a pair of eyes, the same eyes you often thought about before you went to sleep, not knowing if you’d wake up. 

“I’d wager yer a far way from home dear, no?”

Your body sways with the donkey's gentle movements, and your mind is slow. You know you need food and water, but her question isn’t one that reminds you of this. It’s a cut that runs deep through your aching soul, one that hurts to admit. 

So you only give her a little nod, one that she seems to understand quickly. 

“D‘ye plan to stay here?” Her gray curls frame her face in a nice way, her plump cheeks pink and soft.

You look to the water and then to the town. It’s a far distance from the North, and hidden enough that nobody would recognize you or find you. It’s surrounded by a forest, a densely thick mass of trees that stretches as far as the eye can see. The town is quaint, at most a few hundred people inhabiting it. Even if the news of your runaway had heard their ears, it was doubtful that they’d recognize you. Especially now, that even without a proper mirror you’re sure your appearance has changed drastically.

“Yes,” you mutter, your throat raw and unused. 

She hums, pulling you carefully down the grassy hill and closer towards the busting town. People were walking and shouting to one another, carrying trays of breads and pastries, flowers and fabrics from one place to the next. 

“I’ll fix ‘ye up something to eat when we get to the tavern,” she promises, having surely heard your eager stomach, but you shake your head slowly in a form of protest. 

“No, no coin,” you tell her, your eyes falling down in embarrassment, “I don’t have…any coin,” you say slowly, your tongue heavy in your mouth. 

Miss Murray looks at you for a second before throwing her head back and laughing. 

“Dear, I’m sure ‘ye need that food more than I need that coin.”

Your heart beats a little faster, your eyes glimmering slightly. 

You want to tell her why you’re like this, that you weren’t this way a few months ago. That you had a husband who you cared very deeply for, people who you loved helping. You want to tell her that you would give her all the coins you and your name if you could, but you bite your tongue from doing so. 

You no longer were the Lady of the North. You were married to Gojo Satoru, and you had no title, no coin, no amount to your name. But you still had respect and dignity, knowing you couldn’t lose every shred of yourself while trying to stay alive. 

“I’d like t-to…pay you back,” you stammer out, “I want to pay you back, please,”

You watch as Miss Murray pauses, the donkey halting its movements as your body lurches forward slightly. 

You watch silently as she observes your face, looks at the cracks in your skin, the stained clothes you were wearing, and your lack of proper hygiene. She feels something when looking at you, something that wasn’t right. There’s a certain stubbornness, a fight in your eyes, one that somebody only gets after surviving for so long. 

She knows you won’t back down, especially after you’ve had something proper to eat. 

“‘Ye need a job, no? Some coin?” She finally asks, and you look down at your torn up clothes and your bones fingers. 

You look back up to her and nod. 

She thinks for another moment before starting her walk again. 

“‘Ye can pay me back by working for the tavern,” her fingers curl around the donkey's rein as she controls it through a winding road, “Aye, we’re in constant need of firewood. It will make us even for this meal, and every day after that I’ll pay ‘ye for yer help. Deal?”

You feel a little light shine down, maybe from the gods as she turns her head to look at you, raising a brow as she waits for your answer. 

For the first time in a while, you feel your lips quirk upwards, a small, miniscule grin on your face. Miss Murray smiles at the sight. 

You nod slightly before you murmur a quiet, “deal.”

——

Miss Murray took you to her tavern and fixed you a large meal, something even your old self would gawk at if served at the estate. 

And she introduced you to her husband, the other keeper. She told him that she found you and knew you were willing to work, to which he took one look at you and decided she wasn’t going to budge on her decision. 

The old man showed you after a week of rest what it was you had to do. He demonstrated how to use an axe, how to cut up the logs in a way that would fit into the tavern's fireplace. He showed you which trees would be easiest for you to cut down, and which ones to avoid. 

The old man told you that his previous lumberjack had left town in search of a new life, and with how strenuous the job was, he couldn’t find anybody to do it eagerly in the short amount of time he needed. His son, who you slowly became familiar with, would do a majority of the workload, meaning you’d just have to bring in the smaller branches and twigs that kept the fire going throughout the night.

Miss Murray also showed you an old shack they had been using to store some equipment, saying that you could stay here for as long as you liked as long as you cleaned it out yourself. It was a little way away from the tavern, but still close enough that you wouldn’t have to drag the logs for a great distance. You were near trees and a few homes scattered around you as well so that you weren’t isolated. She told you she would’ve given you someplace nicer, but this was all she had. 

It takes a while for this strange new routine to become normal for you, but you quickly decide that chopping wood and lugging it around beats the hunger and cold you felt for weeks before you found this little town. That the motions almost became therapeutic, and offered you a peace of mind, letting yourself try to forget about your previous life, your husband, Gojo, and focus on getting your job done. 

You get the old shack as clean as you can, pleasantly surprised to find that underneath all the rubble and blankets there was a fireplace with a chimney still intact. You set a little bed up for yourself in the corner on the floor, made out of multiple sheets all piled on top of each other (all borrowed from Miss Murray) and a pillow that she had given you. 

You never told Miss Murray of where you were running from, who you were running from. You didn’t tell her that you were married or that you were from the North. Though she asked about why you ran, you never gave her a clear answer. It hurt thinking about him, let alone voicing the fact that you had left a loving husband in hopes of sparing thousands of people their lives. Some days, the pain was so numbing that you didn’t know how to move. You would hear his voice in your thoughts, could see his smile when you closed your eyes. In these moments you wondered if he misses you as much as you missed him. If he still slept in the same bed, or had his room completely changed. Did he get rid of your books, your oils, your clothing? A part of you hopes he did, hoping that he didn’t have to be cursed with the memory of you after what you had done. The more time passed, you wondered if he had decided to forget about you, if the thought of you was something he decided was better hidden rather than called upon.

Slowly, you began to turn the shack into your home, delivering the firewood as your daily routine, and made the town that bordered the ocean somewhere that you considered safe. 

But each night that passed and you went to sleep you dreamt of your old home, your old bed, the strong arms that wrapped around you, and you woke up, pretending the tears that had drenched your pillow weren’t there. 

Though you knew that after a while, when the talks of the Northern soldiers died down, that you had to move on. And when Miss Murray excitedly knocked on your door, a month later, telling you that the war had been called off, you offered her a gentle smile, knowing that you had done the right thing. She showed you the papers that were making their way across the kingdoms, the ones that said the North had agreed to pull their forces out from near the Southern border, releasing their final statement of neutrality. You skimmed the page, your heart hammering when you read that The North credits their Lord for the sudden decision, claiming that after months of searching for his missing wife with no luck, he agreed that continuing war efforts were barbarous and unnecessary.

Your vision goes blurry for a moment. 

He had been searching for you? For nearly six months?

It had been almost half a year, if you had done the math correctly, since you were first informed that a war would be happening. Six months of hardship, pain, tears, blood and half of your soul to end it all. Nobody in your little town knew of what you did, and you knew to keep it that way. Hiding your true nature was safe, no matter how much it stung when you realized that the North had most likely decided to forget you. That night you stayed in your little cabin while everybody was in the square celebrating and crying, not knowing what else to do. They were partially tears of joy, but mainly an accumulation of guilt and longing, wondering why your absence was what was needed to end a war.

Slowly, that pain began to seep into your bones, but you knew that you must go on with your life if you ever wanted to make it worth it. The days and nights turned into weeks, which then turned into months, and after some time, you no longer considered yourself the old Lady of the North. You melted into this life, and pretended that this was what you were destined to live from the start. You cut wood, collected pieces of dry bush and twigs to help keep the fire going at Miss Murray’s tavern. On the days when they didn’t need any fire wood, you helped her and her husband out with food and serving drinks. When she wasn’t busy, you found yourself listening to her talk, filling your silent moments with the gentle-hearted lady.

When a year had passed since you came to this town, you let yourself forget about everything. Everything your mind began to tuck away, all but for the lingering ache that longed for the man you loved so many moons ago.

—

Winters in a town near the ocean was something you never experienced until last year, and this year you knew how to prepare yourself.

The North was notoriously known for its freezing winters, but this town could rival it, you’d wager coin on this fact. The lakes in the woods nearby would freeze, snow piling on the ground, reaching a little bit below your knees in some areas. The ground was sometimes slick with ice, and if you didn’t have a careful eye to catch it you’d often come tumbling down, your cheeks heating in embarrassment when people nearby would laugh.

Last winter you had barely gotten on your own two feet before it had hit, but Miss Murray helped you out as much as she could. She spared some meat cakes from the tavern, bringing you what was left of their bread when the night was over. She lended you some of her old winter clothes, ones that she had outgrown, and you took it appreciatively. There were some nights you were sure you’d freeze to death, and other mornings when you weren’t sure you weren’t going to wake up. But you reminded yourself of all that you had been through, everything that you had survived, and pushed to open your eyes. So, in these past months, much like others in the town did, you prepared for this icy season, knowing this year you had to learn on your own. 

You stocked up on breads and pastries in a corner of your home which was always keen on never staying warm. You kept jars of jams, pickled vegetables and potatoes near the breads, somewhere dark and away from the morning sun. You learned from other townspeople how to prepare for when the cold settled in your home, how to fight it off late into the night. You watched the baker as he explained how to keep your bread from going bad, and how to store it properly. When you were content with the amount of food you had accumulated over the summer and fall months, you then prepared your clothing.

You had learned over trial and error to begin with wrapping your hands up once with some gauze (this would also prove to help once you were using the axe and looking through the shrubbery for things that could easily burn, seeing that it provided a buffer zone) and a thick pair of gloves that Miss Murray knit for you. You always had a fire running in your own fireplace, tending to it from the moment you woke up till late in the night when you went to sleep. The tavern needed its delivery each night, so until then, when you weren’t chopping, you either bundled up with a couple blankets or walked through the town, looking through the bakery and small bookshop (those two stores always were toastier than the rest).

If you had some spare change you’d buy a couple of loaves of bread and see if there were any old books the bookkeeper was going to throw out, and in between your free time, this seemed to be the best way to go about the freezing months instead of wasting away in your little cabin.

When night came, you hauled the wood, leaves and twigs into the wheelbarrow Miss Murray had lended to you and headed for the tavern, making sure your scarf was tied around your neck multiple times before you left the warm retrieve of your home.

It was only a ten minute walk from where you were to the inn, and if you hurried enough you could finish it in almost eight minutes. The colder it got, the slower your joints would work, but you also reminded yourself that the faster you got there, the faster you’d be met with the tavern's overwhelming and comforting warmth. You had the hood of your cloak around your head, keeping your ears from freezing and your scarf wrapped tightly around your neck. It was hard pushing the handcart through the snow, but you had learned where to go over the past weeks, which roads were more forgiving.

It had become clockwork as you neared the oak doors, the windows lit orange from the amount of candles inside. You could smell the meat roasting and see the smoke from the brick chimney as you neared it. You were already hearing the loud boisterous laughter from inside, some from town natives, some from travelers making a stop at the place for the night. You knew to walk around back, follow the track that led to the stables and ultimately the smaller door that would lead inside the kitchen, open it with the key Miss Murray had given you. You make a note of a couple of men standing near the horses, the usually empty rooms now filled with the animal. They were most likely tending to them, trying to keep them warm.   You’re greeted with the familiar sound of the bustling kitchen; the cooks yelling at the other cooks about what to get ready, the loud roar of the fire, the sounds of knives chopping away their vegetables and meats. You can smell the usual pies and stews they made nearly every night. This night seems to be their specialty of chicken pie with potato gravy soup. If there was a moment you could slip away and taste some, you reminded yourself to do so.

Glancing around the large room you take in the sight of the visitors of the night. There are a few wooden beams that restrict your vision, but you don’t need eyes to know just how packed it is. The sounds inside are even louder than the ones you heard walking near the place, and you’d wager that there are far more people staying here than usual. You’d guess that with the recent and abundant snowfall, some travelers were forced to re-route, and by the looks of it, you see far more strangers than familiar faces.

But you don’t let that distract you, walking over to the fireplace as you crouch down, making sure your cloak and skirt weren’t bunched up under your boots. You set the cart down near the fireplace, taking your gloves off as you held it near the heat for a few seconds. The gloves did a great job with keeping the cold from your hands, but they limited your mobility, and when you had to unload the logs, the branches, twigs, and everything in between, you wanted to do it as quickly as possible. You place them all into the large basket, observing the flickering flames. It’s still going strong, but there are some embers of coal that seem to be dying out, and so you tug carefully the door of the fireplace open as you place some wood inside, fanning it so that it would grow a little more.

You brush your hands against your legs, getting rid of the spare bits of bark and wood, and hold it back up to the fire as you feel the tension in your fingers and wrists begin to melt away. 

“We don’t pay ‘ye to keep up our space, y’know,” 

You turn your head around to the voice, smiling when you see Miss Murray standing behind you with her hands on her hips, her apron stained with spilled ale and some food splatters. Her gray curls are pulled underneath her cap, her full cheeks red and rosy, her lips pulled into a slight frown.

She tries to look serious, but her act slips away instantly when she sees you, moving closer as she wraps her around around you from behind, her arms reaching your shoulders, just barely, as you crouch a little to pull her in for a hug. 

It’s only been a night since she sees you, but this is always how Miss Murray greets you. 

“Are ‘ye warm?” She asks, her eyes worried as she looks at your hands and your slightly runny nose. 

You chuckle, nodding your head so that she doesn’t fret. 

“I’m warming up,” you tease your brow slightly raised, holding your fingers up to her cheeks to show that they were no longer cold, wiping your elbow across your nose as you go back to holding your hands over the fire, “And dare I say it’s my right seeing how it’s my wood that’s burning?” 

Miss Murray chuckles, pinching you softly on the side as you yelp, moving a little bit away from her as you giggle.

She stands next to you, looking over the crowd as she takes in who needs more beer and food, making a mental tally in her head. Once your entire body has finally thawed, you stand up straighter, turning around to look at the busy crowd, not a single chair going unused. 

“It’s busier than usual, no?” You ask, crossing your arms across your chest as you look to Miss Murray, tucking your hands into your elbows to keep the warmth. 

She nods, her eyes turning to yours slightly before she goes back to assessing each table. 

“Aye,” her voice is slightly lowered, not wanting others to hear, “The storm caught many travelers by surprise. There’s a group of young men coming in from Lolygrad,” a Western town, you note, a name you remember from ages ago, “Said they wanted to go up ‘nor but their horses cannae walk through the snow.” 

You chew on your lips, looking at the large group of men gathered near a corner, their beards and shaggy hair covering up most of their faces. Most of them had their backs to you, and the ones facing outwards were hunched, their shoulders sagging as they leaned their ears in to hear clearly what was being said. The rest of their features were pinched together as they let out howls of laughter, swinging their mugs of beer around as they listened to one of their members tell an animated story. 

You slightly smiled at the hearty sound, against your own will.

“Oh, dear, before I forget,” Miss Murray suddenly turned around, gently holding your hands as you look a little bit down, “Ewan,” her son, another worker at the tavern, the poor fellow who was tasked with almost every job, including getting the hefty tree trunks cut into bits, “Said he saw ‘ye heaving that barrow through the snow-” you began to shake your head, knowing what she was going to say but she raised a hand midway to stop you. 

“He told me to tell ‘ye to leave it near the stables. When the snow has settled and thaws a bit, he’ll bring it to ‘ye.” 

Your brows furrow, lips parting slightly as you go to protest. 

“But what about the firewood? I can’t lug it up on my own,” you joke a little bit, your lips quivering as Mis Murray smiles, patting your arm as she shakes her head. 

“Ye’ve brought us enough wood to supply a week, maybe even more,” she says, and you look behind your shoulder at the overflowing bin, knowing there were at least three more filled with logs waiting out back, “Give yerself a rest dear.” Her kind face looks at you in such a way that you can’t argue, sighing deeply through your nose as you debate it. You have enough coins to last you for a while, and seeing that you already have some bread and food prepared, it shouldn’t be much of an issue. So you nod.

You move to get your gloves, pulling them on as you head back out through the kitchen. You brace yourself for the cold, wrapping your scarf tighter around your neck and throwing your hood over your head as you open the door, quickly leaving and shutting it, knowing how much he cooks bickered when you let the air in.

You keep your head down, nose scrunching as your boots crunch as you walk through the snow, nearing the corner of the tavern, the one that rounds into the road that leads you back home before a yell catches your attention. 

It comes from behind you, the sound slightly muffled with the hood and scarf slightly covering your ears, but you glance over your shoulder to see what it was. 

In the distance, one of the men is waving over to you, his body illuminated slightly from behind from one of the lit torches that hang on the wall of the stables. Your eyes squint, moving a few steps closer as you try to make out what he was saying.

“...glove,” is all you make out, the wind roaring around you not helping. But he waves a red glove around, and you look to your hands to see that your right glove was missing. It had been so cold that you didn’t notice it had been blown away, the only thing covering your hand being your bandages. 

You shake your head, rolling your eyes at the thought, and slightly jog back, bringing your hand to your lips as you blow some hot air on it. Your cheeks feel like they're on fire with how freezing it is, the tip of your nose about to fall off, but you’re able to muster up a thankful smile as you near the man. 

“Thank you!” you call out, laughing a little bit at the absurdity of it all, boots scrunching and sounding like ice being shaved as you run a little bit closer to him, the man taking a few steps himself so that you wouldn’t have to go the full distance, and you squint your eyes more, trying to make out his blurry appearance that’s slightly coming to as he nears another torch, “It’s so cold that I didn’t even notice…” 

You stop. 

It seems like time has stopped. 

The snow seems to have frozen in mid-air, not falling as it stops around you. The wind no longer howls, but has fallen silent. The snow on the ground doesn't glisten, the torches lit with fire slowing down.

Your lungs don’t work. You can’t feel any air coming in through your nose. It might be because your nose refused to inhale. You can’t feel your heart, can’t feel a singular beat to keep you alive. Your pulse has fallen silent, your ears hearing every sound but no sound at all.

Gojo seems to have stopped breathing as well. 

His hand is still reaching out, your glove held tightly in his fingers as he stares, 

And you stare back. 

Your chest heaves out a single puff of air.

You blink once before everything suddenly goes black. 

—

“...is it really…?” 

“...never found a…thought she had…there must be…” 

“..last time I saw him look like that…”

There are multiple voices that blend together, and you can’t tell what’s happening aside from the fact that you can’t feel your limbs and your eyes feel like they’ve been turned to lead. You can’t open them, can’t move, can’t do anything but try to figure out what is happening around you.

“...doubt he knew,” a voice, louder and more clear than the rest fills your ears, sounding a little less like it was coming from underwater, “...searched for months…looks like her…” 

Her? 

The conversations around you continue, and you feel your fingers slightly twitching, a good sign that you weren’t completely incapable of moving. You feel your lashes flutter, lips parting a little bit. 

You try to listen more to the voices, but suddenly a loud slam happens from somewhere in the room. You nearly flinch, eyes moving back and forth between your lids and you will yourself to sit up, to do something.

The voices suddenly all fall silent, and your ears are becoming more in tune because you can pick up on the heavy thud that rings around the walls, loud but quiet at the same time, heavy and deep.

The sound nears your ears before it completely stops. 

You feel a touch, light, barely there, but you feel it. It’s the grace of a feather upon your body, a fingertip that slightly moves across skin. Your pointer finger moves a little bit, but it’s so miniscule that you doubt the touch noticed. 

It’s familiar, you think to yourself, you’ve felt this touch before. It wasn’t Miss Murray, for her fingers were more round and rough. It wasn’t foreign, because sometimes you still got off put by a stranger's touch. This was something you knew once, had carded somewhere in your mind when your skin felt raw and barren.

“Nothing?” 

The voice, it’s even more familiar. You hear it not only settle deep into your eardrums, but it rattles around your head, flowing down into your blood, seeping into your bones. Your brows scrunch a little bit, and you feel like a little bit of life is flooding back into you. Your toes curl in your boots, fingers itching against the wooden surface you feel yourself lying back upon. 

“Nothing at all?” 

That voice. The touch. The feel of those fingers against your skin, the way the voice breathes. 

Gojo.  

Your eyes suddenly snap open, your chest concaving in as you take in a big gasp of air. You shoot upwards, your hands resting on either side of you as they balance you on the table, your chest moving up and down with big movements as you look around wildly. 

The men that surrounded the table were the same men you saw earlier that night. But you know them all. Samson, Ren, Kenji, Declan, Koji. You remember now, how they all challenged each other to grow the longest hair and beard in the winter months, the winner taking the head of a hog they had hunted. Malcolm, Oisín, Shiro, Genji. 

They all stared back at you, their faces clammy and pale, as if they were staring at a ghost. 

Your body is shaking, your neck turning when you look to your side. 

Gojo. 

There’s a hitch in your breathing, your lips trembling when your eyes take in his face. 

Those eyes, the same eyes that stared back at you the day you married him. A foggy storm, oceans clashing upon each other, dark and messy. His hair was as white as the falling snow right outside the window, slightly longer than what you remembered, but still the same shape. 

His lips, red as the blood that stained the bandages around your hands. You take in the shape of his nose, the lashes upon his lids. The sharp line of his jaw, the slight twitch of his eyes. You take in the lifeless appearance of his skin, his cheeks lacking their usual pink hue. His figure looks even sturdier, more pronounced muscles around his shoulders and chest, the fabric around his arms tight. He looks exactly like you imagine him each night. 

You had forgotten some little things over time; like the scar near his left ear or the mole above his brow. You don’t remember how there was a slight crook in his nose from when he had broken it as a child from falling down a tree, but it’s still him. It’s Gojo.

Your fingers itch to touch his face. Your nails dig into the wood. 

You look at him. Look at the way his chest rises with each breath. This wasn’t a dream. This was him. He was real and staring back at you. 

You had to get out. 

It feels like a force pushes your body forward. You don’t know what strength it was that allowed you to swing your legs over the table, what power it was that allowed you to lurch yourself away and fall into him. He doesn’t budge, doesn’t falter, but you hear the others around you exclaiming some things in surprise at your sudden movements. 

You don’t stay on him for too long, forcing your feet that feel like iron ore to take one step at a time. You limp and stumble your way through, blindly grabbing for things as you pick up your pace, not looking over your shoulders as your hand reaches for the door. 

“Come back.” 

It’s his voice. You feel yourself shiver at the sound. 

But you don’t know what to do except escape, your palm touching the door knob. 

“Come. Back.” His voice is steady, biting, warning, and he doesn’t say anything else because this itself is the extent of what he’s willing to say. 

You pause, not looking behind you, your knees shaking as you support yourself upright on the door, one hand sprawled out on it as you heave. You feel like throwing up, feel like your head is about to burst. 

This can’t be happening. This can’t be real. 

You feel your body shaking, your arms quivering, your legs wobbling. Your shoulders are moving up and down as you struggle to breathe again, and you feel your legs slowly give out beneath you, and you crumble down onto the floor, your hand still on the door as the other one covers your mouth, trying to keep your broken soul contained.

“My lord, should we-” 

“Get out,” Gojo says, barely above a whisper, but perhaps the most forward and heavy command you’ve ever heard him give. 

There’s a confused silence that follows, his men faltering with the sudden order. 

“But-” 

“Out!” He roars, and you don’t make a move from the door, can’t find a bone in your body that has the ability to pull yourself away. 

Thankfully, you think this is one of the more advanced rooms of the tavern, and when you hear the patter of footsteps and a door latch open from another side of the room, one that most likely leads to an office that has another door out to the hallways. It takes a minute, but the footsteps begin to slow and finally they cease, the door quickly clicking shut as the last man closes it behind him. 

But there’s still one person remaining, and you could distinguish who it was by the sound of his breathing alone.

Your back is still facing him, your hands moving to hold your head as you fall sideways to the wall next to you, your hands moving down to hide your sweaty and clammy face from the one person you had convinced yourself you’d never see again.

He doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t move. 

You curl your legs up to your chest in an effort to hide as much as yourself away from him as possible. It feels like your heart isn’t working correctly. It rattles around at an odd pace in the limited space of your rib cage, bouncing around erratically, trying to warn you that something was wrong. Your hands grasp at your chest, fingers digging into the skin as you try to calm it down. 

But you soon realize that that’s not your only problem. Your head was spinning in a way that made you see twos of everything, your forehead beading with sweat. It feels like you’ve lost control over any of your movements, your body working as one, your mind as a totally separate entity. You wondered if this was you dying, if your body had suddenly given up.

“Slow your breathing down.” 

You falter, eyes looking above your direct line of sight which was staring at the wall adjacent to you, traveling upwards when you slowly looked up and saw muddy boots, then a familiar pair of black trousers, upwards till you landed on his chest and then his chin. You see his face, looking down at your form, his eyes dark but focused on your face, his lips pulled into a thin line. You hadn’t heard him come near you, but you also doubt you’d hear a canon go off in this state. 

Gojo.

You shake your head, looking instantly away from him as your lips tremble, snot falling from your nose as you look anywhere else. It seems difficult to breathe, the simple but tiring task bordering on impossible.

You can’t see him, but hear a small thump sound a few seconds later. You glance from above your lashes to see that he’s taken a seat, resting his back on the wall that’s facing yours. His legs are sprawled out, long things that you used to tease him about, and the tip of his boots almost reach your knees. 

“Reach your hand out,” he says after a beat of silence. 

You almost scoff at the insanity of it. 

But you look at him, truly look him in the eyes this time, and see that he’s being serious. 

You look back down to your shaking hands, cold and still bandaged up, and then back to him. It feels unreal. You feel your hands shake even more when your mind computes again that it’s Gojo that’s two feet in front of you. 

“One hand at a time,” Gojo says, his voice lowered, and he demonstrates by sitting up a little bit, leaning a breathe closer, still feet away from you as he lifts his hand up from where it was resting on his thigh, holding it up in the air, fingers sprawled from each other, “Like this.”

Your mind tells you to move, just a little bit, and your fingers twitch against your knees that were sitting close to your chest. It takes a few seconds but you will raise your hands upwards, slowly, gently, just like he did. It’s shaking, he isn’t, but he doesn’t say anything about it. 

His eyes look over the bandages on your hand. Some spots are dotted with red blood from your most recent cuts. He looks at your fingers, the dirt beneath your nails and the way they’re cut at odd angles. He finally focuses on your fourth finger, lingering on its bareness, and you don’t realize in that moment just how much he was mourning the absence of your wedding ring. 

“Bring it away from your body,” his voice is barely a whisper, thick with unspoken emotions that have plagued him for the past year and a half, his own eyes glossing over slightly when he takes you in, just as you were doing to him.

You find that in these last moments your erratic breathing has slowed down a bit, so you go the distance, gingerly stretching your arm out so that your hand is straight in front of you, still trembling just a bit. 

“I’m going to hold your hand with mine. It helps, I promise.” 

I promise. 

Your teeth clatter against each other, your tongue laying flat and like a stone in your mouth. You can’t speak yet, but there’s a sharp look in his eyes. The same one that happened whenever he made his promises to you. Ones he’d never break. 

So you slowly tilt your head down in a small nod. 

He watches this, observing your behavior. He shows you his hand, never putting it down, just carefully outstretching his arm like you did, and he moves a little bit away from the wall to get a little closer to you.

You never blink as you watch his hand stretch out towards yours, fingers straight, and in a few seconds they hover above yours. He’s not wearing his ring, you note, but put your focus on the fact that in another moment his skin is touching your skin, his fingers curling slowly over yours. In another moment, his hand moves, gently holding yours in his. That touch, the same touch you feel like a lingering ache at night.

The two of you don’t say anything, looking at where your hands meet with bated breath.

The touch was grounding. You feel his fingers against your palm, long and steady, unlike your own. His skin is warm, comforting, inviting. It’s not soft, but it never was. Years of yielding swords, bows, spears, using his fists as means of destruction caused that. But when he held you, it never felt like the hands of a warrior, just of a man. Your own fingers stretch outwards, your tips gracing his large hand, slightly above his wrist, where his pulse point is. You try to forget that the last time you touched him was so long ago 

“Better?” He asks simply, taking in how your chest had slowed its movements, the sweat on your forehead stopping. Your eyes are still glossy, but he knows it’s more than just an episode that’s causing that. 

You swallow thickly, looking down at your hands and not to him as you nod again.

There’s a silence that follows, the only sound being the small exhale that you would give, and his slight inhale. 

You’re the first to move, your hand going slack in his as you begin to pull away. His own finger twitches, not wanting to let go for a minute, but he falters and lets you move away, resting your back up against the wall as you cradle the hand close to your chest, as if it was searing. 

Gojo moves back too, his shoulders square as his hands go to rest on his thighs again, letting out a large puff of air through his lips. After another moment his head dips, fists clenched as he pinches the bridge of his nose, his eyes squeezing shut as if he too can’t believe any of this. He runs a hand through his white hair, pushing it back, before he allows himself to open his eyes again and stare at you. 

“I’ve looked for you for sixteen months.” 

You look at him blankly, but inside something cracks. 

“I thought you were dead after the first eight,” Gojo says, “So I've just been searching for your body.”

You look away from him, the sight of him here and speaking to you too much to bear. 

He waits for you to say something, anything, a flash of anger crossing his face, his nose flaring and lips stretching thin as he tries to control himself. He had convinced himself for a while now that you were dead. He wondered what he’d do if he found you somewhere, not knowing how to prepare himself for the sight. 

But in the beginning, when he was sure that he’d find you, Gojo wondered about what he might say to you if he ever saw you again. He told himself that he’d yell, he’d beg you to tell him why you ran away, why you never wrote back, but his anger faded and dissipated the minute he saw you. The anger, the frustration, the pain, hurt, breaking, everything that he feels now is from seeing you alive, knowing that you were alive this whole time and never once said anything. The tears and the bite in his throat he has to fight back being from the sole reason of how much he missed you. 

He sees you here, alive, your chest moving with each breath. He sees the flutter of your lashes against your cheek, the plump of your lips. He sees your eyes, more tired and filled with unknown sorrow, but still that burning color he loved so much. He watches the way your arms wrap around yourself, the curve of your jaw and the way you try to blink away your tears. Gojo sees you and though there are small changes to your appearance, still remembers you being as beautiful as the day he last saw you.

His wife, Gojo thinks, his wife was alive after all this time.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” he thinks his voice comes out breathy, almost like he was trying to stop himself from cracking in front of you, “Why didn’t you send a letter? Or…or a sign?”

You bite down on your lip, your head turned away from him so that he couldn’t see your face. You feel yourself choking as he speaks, your eyes stinging with tears again. You can’t do this, you can’t.

You blindly walk back into the other part of the room, where he and his men originally were. You hear him move instantly behind you, as if he was fearful you’d try to make a run for it again, but you’re searching for a pitcher, your throat dry and aching.

You stumble around, wiping away at your wet cheeks, hands stiff as you turn desperately to find anything, something to just wash away the biting and choking feeling you had that was settling deep in your chest. 

Your eyes almost light up when you see a pitcher, making your way through it as your fingers grasp the handle, finding a cup next to it as you bring it up. It’s heavy, filled with water, and although you’ve gotten stronger these past months lifting and carrying wood, you can’t seem to properly pour. 

It must be from how your hands are still shaking. Water pours messily from the sprout, getting everywhere but the cup. You let out a frustrated cry, wiping the tears away from the corners of your eyes with your elbow as you try again. 

Something stops you. You look over your shoulder to see Gojo, his hand hovering over your arm that’s holding the pitcher. Silently, he grabs it, fingers curling around the handle as you let go. He reaches for the cup in your hand, which you give him, and sniffles when he calmly pours some water for you, handing it back with the cup full. 

You take it after a beat of quiet, bringing it to your lips as you chug it down. You finish it in seconds, wiping your lips as you squeeze your eyes shut, feeling his heat radiating off of him from how close he was to you.

“You have to leave.” 

Your voice comes out frail and hoarse, and you're staring at him through tear stricken eyes, your lips pressed firmly into a little frown, one that you do to help you from crying even more. You cross your arms over your chest, wincing slightly when your bandage rubs the wrong way, but you refuse to drop your gaze from his.

“Y-you can’t know I’m here,” you’re shaking your head adamantly, stuttering as you think of everything that has happened and what it means, the repercussions that could come from it, all of your sacrifices amounting to nothing, “None of you can…please, gods, I…” You let out a gasp, hands covering your mouth as you frantically walk away from him, pacing around the vastness of the empty room. 

You run your hands over your face, wringing your fingers, fidgeting with the fabric of your bodice as you shake your head repeatedly. They know you’re here, they know you’re alive. If anybody finds out, if word gets out of where you are and your true identity, gods, what if the king finds out?

You’re muttering words to yourself, tears catching on your cheeks, chin, falling into your lips, and you phase Gojo out. You act like he’s no longer there. It feels like what you’ve done for the past year, pretending like his ghost, the thought of him, wasn’t haunting you when in fact it was at every single second of the day.

“Leave!” You shout, your voice hoarse, “Get out! Leave! Please!” You’re pleading with the gods above to make him listen to you, to cast away his stubbornness and pride and make him listen to your words just this once.

“Leave?” He says with a stutter, a chuckle of disbelief falling from his lips, “What are you sa-” 

“Get out!” You scream, cutting him off, pointing at his chest and to the door, “I don’t want you here! Go!”

He shouts your name, loud and clear, and you instantly stop. 

Your brows are furrowed down the middle, a crease between them, and you feel like your eyes are slightly twitching. You must look mad to him, not the person he once remembered. You hope he feels disgust, wanting to leave as soon as he gets a few words in. That would be ideal. Maybe he despises you so much he doesn’t talk about you ever again, satisfied to see just how poorly you’re doing by yourself

But to be fair, he doesn’t look any better himself. 

There are dark circles under his eyes. His skin seems flushed, but not in a good way. There’s a bead of sweat above his brow bone, his lips moving slightly as if he wants to yell, scream, cry, shout, but can’t figure out which one to do. The more you get a look at him the more you’re able to see the cracks in his usual appearance. The way he hides behind his strength but fails to use that strength to keep himself afloat. 

But oh, how you wish to walk to him, run to him. How you long to collapse in his chest, to feel his heartbeat against our cheek. How you want to feel those sturdy hands wrap themselves around you, give you an embrace you’ve been chasing for so long. You want to feel his skin, taste his tears. You want him, all of him. But you can’t, you remind yourself. He’s not yours to have anymore. 

“That’s it?” He bites out, his tone furious, “You haven’t seen me in over a year and that’s it? I have to leave?” He sputters, a bitter laugh falling from his lips as he rubs a hand across his jaw in disbelief, as if he can’t fathom the person that’s standing in front of himself right now is the person he nearly died trying to find.

You glance out the window, the snow storm still going strong. It’s as dark as ink outside, the only light that’s illuminating your faces coming from the candles lit that scatter across the room. You wish you were in the snow than in here, the freezing winds better than the hot and burning sensation you feel at the moment. 

“You…you don’t understand,” you plead quietly, “This isn’t-”

“What?” Gojo snaps, cutting you off as your mouth clams up, “This isn’t what? Simple? Easy to grasp?” He’s cracking, his demeanor slipping from calm to angry, ”How you ran away without any fucking warning? How you evaded all my guards? How you wound up here? What can I not understand? Because I’ve spent a year and a fucking half coming up with every single theory that could explain this!” His voice bounces off the walls and you wince slightly, face cracking as you sniffle, “So what? What is it? What can I not get that’s so difficult to comprehend?”

A strand of his hair has fallen onto his face and his eyes have gotten as dark blue as they can get. You let out a little sob, covering your mouth as you turn away from him, shaking your head again and again as you try to think, try to will yourself out of this. 

How could you explain any of this? How could you tell him without anything happening as a consequence? There’s no simple way. If you tell him the truth, who’s to say he’d believe you. And on the off chance he does, there’s no way he’d sit still and take it. All your efforts of keeping the two nations from war would break. If Gojo believed that his wife had been abducted due to order from the Southern king, a war was no longer the worst thing that could happen but full fledged destruction. Years of bloodshed and violence and everything you did would be for nothing. 

But if you didn’t tell him? If you lied? You didn’t know what to do or say, not expecting or preparing for a moment like this because you never thought it would happen. You tried to live blissfully unawares, hoping that your past life had eventually faded away. 

“Tell me,” he says again, his voice cracking, and his tone has fallen, it’s not angry, not the facade he was putting up because he could never be angry with you, could never yell at you and immediately regret his actions, “I’m here, I found you, so, so please, just…just tell me why,”

You jam your palms into your eyes, beginning to pace around the room again as you breathe deeply. 

“I, I didn’t know,” you don’t know what to say, how to lie, what to do to make any of this make sense, how to satisfy sixteen months of questions, prayers, hurt, in the little time you had, “I can’t…” you sigh through your nose, looking at him apologetically, cheeks shining in the candlelight as your lips tremble and you shake your head, giving him a small shrug, “I-I can’t tell you.” 

“Was it because I left?” He takes a few steps forward to get closer to you but falters when he sees how you take one back, his eyes confused, full of pain as he stammers, “Were…were you scared? Because I came back,” you let out another cry, hiccuping when you heard the tenderness and hurt in his voice, “I came back like I promised you I would.” And you shake your head to that and he pauses, hand clenching and unclenching as he tries to figure you out with your minimal words and even more limited movements.

“So…so why? Darling, please, just tell me why,” He’s begging you, and Gojo never begs. Not unless he needs to. Not unless it’s without anybody other than you. 

“You don’t - don’t understand,” your voice cracks as you wipe away your falling tears, “It’s n-not that.” How could he think you didn’t believe him? The thought that he even believed that, using it as a hypothesis breaks you even more and your chest shakes, fingers itching to hold him and tell him everything that happened.

Gojo looks like he’s struggling to think, like he doesn’t know what to do as he throws his arms in the air, his eyes pleading with you. You see a slight sheen in them, see the way they quiver, how maybe he too is crying. Maybe from frustration, maybe because he just missed seeing your face. 

“Then what?” He takes another tentative step closer and you don’t move, frozen in place, and he takes one more step to you, until he’s only a foot away, “Was it because of…because of the war? Because of what I did? Were you angry with me?” 

You lick your lips as you pursue them, squeezing your eyes shut as you cry even more. A sound tears from your throat, a sort of wail that you can’t control, and it’s one that you don’t mean to let out. You furiously wipe at your face, your head hanging low as you cross your arms across your stomach. It doesn’t take another second until you hear his boots thump along the floor, bringing himself to you as he pauses. And slowly, before you or Gojo knows what’s happening, you feel one of his arms circle your shoulders. Unknowing, a movement he wasn’t sure of. 

But then you break, falling into his chest as you sob, your arm flying upwards to grasp onto anything you could, fingers digging into the fabric of his coat, into his shoulders, around his waist. You can smell the faint lingering smell of smoke on him, the little hint of leather. You sniffle, fingers moving up towards his hair, wanting to feel it beneath your skin. You wanted to cherish it for a moment longer, like you should have all those months ago. You feel the sturdiness of his chest against yours, feel the buttons that engrave into your cheek. You feel him, all of him that there is to offer. 

You don’t realize how he does the same as you. The anger instantly faded when he felt your body against his, when he wrapped his arms around your frame. He could feel the flesh of your cheeks as he moved his hands across your face, over and down your torso as he grasped onto your waist. He wanted to push you away, force you to feel the pain he had all those months, but he couldn’t. He had you now, and he didn’t know how much longer he was allowed to. His lips are a breath away from your forehead, and he presses them to the crown of your head, his chest shaking as he cries silently, his tears wetting your hair. 

You don’t know why he holds you like he used to, why he comforts you like he still loves you. After all this time you thought that the only way he’d touch was if he were to touch you with a sword, banishing you from the North and from any of their territories if he saw you again. Not this. Never this.

If only you knew how upon feeling you, holding you close to his chest, he first took a breath of air in sixteen months. If only you knew how his heart started to pump, pump, pump, the way it was supposed to, and not the pathetic little beats it did just to simply keep him alive but wasn’t living until now. Because the truth was that he’d already forgiven you for what you did. He’d forgiven everything you had done up until this point and would forgive everything you do later, even if he wouldn’t be there to witness it. 

“I’m s-sorry,” you cry into his chest, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” you chant, your words slurring together in a mixture of apologies, guilt, longing, hurt, and every emotion you’ve bottled up and decided to put away, hoping you’d never have to touch them again. 

It was a culmination of months away from the only man you had ever loved. Months of barely surviving, living through peoples scraps and trash as you tried to run away as far away from the only home you had ever known in a last ditch effort to be of some help to the people you cared about. It was a broken plea for Gojo to hear everything you had suffered in just two repeated words, knowing that he could never truly know what you had done and why you had done it unless you told him yourself. He just hugs you tighter, his arms caging you in as you bring yours close to your chest, your hand lying against his torso as your body shakes with cries. His hand rubs up and down your back, fingers curling into your cloak as he just nods, not trusting his own voice, just holding you with as much strength he could muster without crushing you.

Gojo waited for sixteen months, and he’d be damned if he let go of you now. Not after countless nights of staying awake and days riding across the four nations, through rain and mud, snow and storm, heat and desert, weeks spent without barely a blink of sleep, all in efforts to find you. And now he has. And he isn't letting you go. Not now, not ever again.

“Did you mean what you wrote?” He asks against your head, his lips falling open in a silent cry as his hands shake against your body. You squeeze your hands, balling them into fists against his chest. No, you want to scream, no!

“I have to leave. I could never, under any gods’ sky, pretend to keep loving a man as barbarous as you,” his voice is choked, the sentence falling from his lips at such a heart wrenching rate, and a part of your mind flashes to that fated night when the man put that knife to your throat and forced you to copy down those words, the same ones he’s saying now, the words that he memorized after reading your farewell letter over and over again, the letters searing into his mind, “Did you mean that?” You hear how Gojo’s voice cracks, as if hearing you admit to that would be a fate worse than death, as if he regrets asking the question that’s been plaguing him for months. 

You feel your tears soak through his coat, your teeth biting into your lips as you control yourself, taking every part of your soul that wants to crawl out and scream, from shaking your head. So you just go limp against him, nails digging into your palms.

“Look at me,” he whispers, his hand trailing up from your back, floating over your side as it comes upwards to grab at the side of your head which was hidden away in his chest. You don’t fight him as his fingers latch under the skin of your jaw, or when he cups your face as gently as he possibly could, his touch like a feather as he angles you upwards to look at him.

When you see his face you let out a little shaky exhale, wet and messy as you feel his warmth travel from his fingers to your body, tingling everywhere, a certain type of warmth that you had been missing for a while and only came back because the other half of your soul did. 

“Tell me you meant it, p-please,” his voice travels across the walls of the room, heavy, barely above a whisper but you hear every crack, every single way he breaks down, no longer able to keep himself strong, “That you ran away because you never loved me, and I’ll…I’ll leave,” his thumb rubs up and down your jaw, a movement he doesn’t even realize he’s doing, something that’s second nature to him and a tear falls from the corner of his eyes, his lashes fluttering as he tries to blink them away, “I’ll leave and you’ll never have to worry about me ever again.”

No, no no, no this can’t be happening all over again. You feel like you’re going insane, his thumb wiping away your tears as you stare silently at him, your lips chapped as you shake your head slightly, knowing the movement itself just cost you everything.  You see the way a little spark makes its way onto his face and you shake your head even more at that, not wanting him to get any sort of idea. 

“N-no, no, no,” you mutter, gasping for air, his hand falling a little bit but you chase after his touch, your head falling into his palm like it was meant to, “No, I…I didn’t want to, I m-mean I didn’t, I,” you’re stammering, words falling out like vomit and you can’t control them. 

You press your cold fingers to your eyes, shaking your head as if it’s the only thing you can do.

“I,” you sigh, looking up at him with a breaking look, “I d-didn’t but,” he deflates a little bit and it hurts to see the most strongest person you’ve ever seen look so broken, “But I can’t,” you whisper the last word with as much strength as you could, “I can’t go back.” 

Gojo lets out a puff of air, his shoulders rising and falling, his hand pulling away from your face, most likely thinking you didn’t want it there when it was the only thing you wanted, the only thing you longed for when you were alone and slept with one eye open.

He looks lost, confused, not knowing what to say to make any sense of this.

You take a step back.

“Then,” he runs a hand through his hair, something he does when he is stressed, not knowing what else to do with his hands, “Why did you write it? Why…why, why did you leave?”

You look away, your mouth opening slightly before you close it again, knowing your best option was to stay silent.

“Was…was there someone else?” There’s a slight tremor in his voice, no malice, no blaming, just curiosity, “Someone here?” 

You quickly shake your head, hiccuping a little bit as your nose scrunches up, sniffing when you vehemently try to silently tell him no, that the only person you’ve loved and can ever love was him. That you’d rather stab a stake through your heart that makes room in your heart for anybody else but him.

“Y-you didn’t do anything,” you murmur, a tear slipping down your nose as you shudder, “It wasn’t because of you.”

“Then why?” He presses quickly, pleading, his cheeks red and flushes as he begs for you to talk, to say something other than the empty clues you’re giving him, “If, if not because of another person then…then what possible reason did you have for leaving?” Gojo pauses to catch his breath, glancing away from you as he tries to regain composure, “You left without any other reasons telling me why, coming to a random town on the eastern coast with nobody you know here. It’s,” he laughs to himself, shaking his head as he shrugs indifferently, “It’s not like you were forced to leave, so…so why, why darling, why?” 

There’s a hitch in your breathing when he utters the simple words. It’s not like you were forced to. 

Your mind flashes quickly with memories of that night, the man on top of you, the knife pressed to your throat, urging you to write that letter. You remember waking up on his horse, your hands bound, trying to piece together what was happening. You think back to his greasy hair, the oily smile, his cruel eyes. You can still hear his gruff voice in your ear, the way he ordered you around your own room as if you were his dog, doing whatever he asked you to to spare the lives of those outside the door. You remember his hot breath on your skin, the weight of his body on yours, the way his eyes raked over your figure. You remember him lying on the ground, bloodied, calling you names as you ran away with his horse. 

Gojo calls your name, once and then twice when you don’t acknowledge him the first time. 

He stares at your body with furrowed brows, taking in the way your chest heaves, your fingers digging into your sides as you stare blankly out the window.

Gojo takes a few brisk paces to where you were, his hands grabbing your elbows, not tightly, just to force you out of your busy mind, his head shaking in utter confusion at the way you suddenly left, and you slowly blink out of your stupor, looking at him and his questioning eyes. 

There’s a strange look on your face, one he doesn’t recognize. 

His mouth parts a little bit, eyes squinting together as he assesses you. He lets out a small laugh, a disbelieving, questioning one, one that he can’t control because you didn’t react like this to any of his other questions.

“You…” his hand falls from your elbow, hovering over the back of your head, gently holding your nape, and you feel like a magnet, drawn to him, your hands balled by your side to keep you from doing something you’d regret, “You weren’t…forced to leave…right?”

You just stare at him.

You count to five, trying to steady your breaths. You want to shake your head, to disagree with his question even though it was the only correct thing, but your body stops you from doing that. Maybe it was fighting back, begging for you to tell him the truth. You evade eye contact from him, your tongue resting on the roof of your mouth and you swallow thickly, forcing down the bile.

But Gojo knows you, knows how to read your quiet expressions and little ticks. You don’t do anything but stay quiet. Soon, after a few seconds pass and he stares longer at your face, your silence becomes your only answer.

His hand falls away from your head, taking a few steps back as if the air had been punched from his lungs.

It was one of the first things he thought when he was given your letter. Thought you had been abducted, and entertained the idea for as long as he could. But there were just no signs of a forced entry, your bags packed and missing some clothes. He read your letter over and over again, and when they never found you, he began to believe the words you had written down. Different ideas came to him, ones of a different lover, ones that made him believe you truly never loved him, ones that said you had run away on your own free will. 

He covers his mouth with his hand, a tremor in his breath when you glanced at him with a sheen in your eyes.

“But…?” 

There’s no answer, no need for one.

You shrug a little bit, wiping at your cheeks once again as you purse your lips together, sniffing as you try to keep everything at bay.

“I, um,” you swallow your spit back, biting your lip as you think for a second, think before the dam breaks and you realize it useless to keep any of this in anymore because Gojo knows and it’s worthless to keep it a secret, “A man came a few nights after you had left. Through my window.”

You peek over at Gojo and quickly glance away because the look on his face is too much to process. You keep your eyes trained on the corner of a carpet, at the fraying end as you decide to continue. 

“He was huge, ‘Toru, like nothing you’ve ever seen,” you say with a small laugh, one because this entire situation is too much to handle, your hands moving away from your body as you show his width with the space between them, “He told me he’d cut my tongue out if I screamed, so I…I didn’t.” 

You sniffle again, chewing on the inside of your cheek, pausing slightly as your jaw ticks the more you recall that night.

“H-he had this letter in his, uh,” you sigh, trying to control your breathing as you blink rapidly, brows furrowed as you motion to your chest, “In his pocket. He told me to write the same words down b-but in my own handwriting.” 

Gojo feels his knees give out, holding onto one of the pillars of the bed next to him to keep himself upright, his eyes never leaving your lips, his head suddenly feeling like it was about to detach from his body. 

“I was told to pack some b-bags and clothes,” you wave your hands around as if that wasn’t important, “And I think he, uh, hit me in the back of my head,” your hand rises to your head, as if you could still feel the pulsing feeling from when you had woken up days later, “So I was out for five, six? Six days, I think, before I woke up again and was on his horse.”

The words fell from your mouth like silk, things you had been wanting to see forever spilling like water from a pitcher, and you couldn't stop yourself, the only thing your mouth was willing to do was continue.

“He said that somebody had sent him. Some bidding for the king, I guess. I think sometime between his talking I realized he was sent to kill me, dump my body in the woods so you’d think I had left. So I knew I had to leave, fight my way out somehow. And…and I don’t know…how, but,” you chuckle to yourself, shrugging at the thought of you when you broke free from your restraints and overpowered him, the look of surprise in his gnarly face when you dug the knife into his ribs, “But I was able to get away from him. I might’ve killed him, I didn’t check.”

Your blurry eyes blink upwards to Gojo as your head tilts to the side as you give him a small smile, full of unsaid words and melancholy feelings.

“I wanted to go back, back home to you and - and everything but,” your teeth dig into your bottom lip as the two of you stare back at each other through tears and even more tears, “But he said that if I had committed treason of the highest degree, that,” your teeth rattle, “That you’d never take me back. And that if they’d send more people like him. To hurt people l-like you, like Alina, my friends, your parents, e-everyone I cared for, everyone that you care for,” you can’t control the little cry that escape your lips, your hand flying upwards to your throat as you give yourself a second, “And I thought to myself that…that maybe if I ran away, if you thought that I no longer wanted to b-be your wife then,” one shoulder lifts up in a sad shrug, “Then maybe everything would resolve itself. That there’d be no war to fight, no cause to die for.”

You wait for a second, air lodged in your lungs.

“I nearly ended up dead on the side of a trail,” you motion around you, to the tavern, the snow, the town, “A lady found me and took me here. I,” you swallow thickly, tears caught on your lashes, “I’ve been here ever since.”

You look at him but he isn’t looking at you. You want him to look up, just this once, but he doesn't and you allow him his own time to think. You gnaw on your lips, fingers fidgeting with themselves as you tilt your head a little bit.

“I…” Your head tilts down to your chest, your words dying on your tongue, but there’s a sudden warmth that takes over you and you feel your legs being lifted from the ground as strong arms circle around your waist, your body almost flying back with the force and speed you were picked up with. You feel your arm go to circle around your head, holding you close to his face as he hugs you to himself like he never has before.

Your legs wrap around his torso, your cheek pressing against his and you cry, you let yourself let go of the tears, let go of the lost time, let go of all the feelings you told yourself you aren't allowed to feel, and wrapped your arms tightly around his shoulders and neck, holding him as close as you could to you.

“I j-just wanted to help,” you murmur wetly, choking as you sob, “I didn’t want anybody else to - to get hurt,” you tell him in broken phrases, “I didn’t want you to get h-hurt…”

He shushes you, lips kissing the side of your face, the corners of your eyes, your cheeks, the crown of your head, your ears, everything he could reach, feverishly. You could taste the saltiness of his own tears on your tongue, could feel his heart beating quickly from the pulse on his neck. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispers against your skin, his eyes squeezing shut as he shakes his head over and over again, “I’m so sorry sweetheart, I’m sorry,” his arms grasp onto you tighter, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, gods, I’m sorry, I’m sorry darling, oh gods, I’m sorry,” you laugh weakly at his muttered apologies, at the way it sounds like he’s praying and apologizing at the same time; for your forgiveness, for you to believe that he was more sorry than any man has been and could be in his life.

“I s-should’ve stayed,” he cries out, his lips trembling as he kisses your forehead, between your eyebrows, your lids, “I should never have left,” you shake your head, trying to stop him but you can’t, “I…I shouldn’t have left, shit, gods, it’s m-my fault, I should’ve-”

“It’s not your fault,” you murmur against his ear, kissing his jaw softly, pulling away a little bit so that you could look him in the eyes, shaking your head a firmly as you could, holding onto the side of his face in your shaking hands, “Don’t you ever, e-ever, say that...you couldn’t - you couldn’t have known.” You shake with cries as you try to smile, try to rake your fingers through his hair to calm him down, twirling his hair around like you used to when you’d wake up next to him. You unlatch your legs from his waist, slowly setting them down as you stand up on your own, your hands still tangled with each other in his hair.

“I never stopped loving you,” you whisper, watching the way his face crumbled upon hearing your words, “When…when I was starving and didn’t know if I’d make it through the night, I tried to pretend you were beside me. And,” your shoulders shake again, “And when I didn’t want to wake up I pretended I was in o-our bed, about to wake up next to you. Everything - everything I did was for you, and I…I know you might hate me for it, despise me for running away but…” you trail off, your thumb running across his cheekbones, his brows, his nose, “But I hoped that one day you’d understand why.” 

You finish your words, staring at him as he stares at you, a storm happening behind those irises you loved so much. You deflate, knowing that this must be your final goodbye. That he’d never want to get back with somebody who’d ruin their life so easily, who’d break his heart so quickly and without any remorse. You try to cherish the way he looked, try to engrain the little features you had forgotten in your head for when he eventually pulled away and wasn’t yours again. You open your mouth, wanting to tell him that you understand if he no longer shares the same feelings.

“I’m-” 

His lips slam against yours, his hand behind your head to keep you steady as you stumble a little bit. Your arms go up to hold onto his, surprised and taken aback by the sudden movement. He pulls away almost as quickly as he had moved in, an apologetic look flashing across his face.

“I’m sorry,” he mutters breathlessly, his lips shining with spit, “I-” 

This time it’s you who cuts him off, reaching your hands upwards to tangle back into his hair as your lips slot against and move roughly against his, mixing your tears, spit, love and pain with one another as he eagerly meets you in the middle with another hand sprawled out across your back, pulling you closer to him.

You angle your head upwards, wrapping your arms around his shoulders as your lips press harshly against one another. They move in tandem, in perfect synch, as if you hadn’t spent one day away from each other but still with so much passion as if to make up for the months spent without one another.

You moan slightly, your lips opening as the sound escapes you, and he surges forward, his tongue meshing with yours as he licks into your mouth, wanting to taste you, to drink from you as if he hadn’t had a proper sip to satiate his thirst in over sixteen months. His lips are soft and plump, just like you remember, and your eyelashes flutter against your cheek at the feeling of him panting into you like a mad man who was suddenly becoming sane.

The hand that he had resting on your back moves upwards, grabign and kneading at your hips, cupping your waist as you whine at the spark his touch brings, feeling lightheaded when he pulls away slightly just to bite down on your bottom lip with his teeth, his nose nudging against yours as you try to catch your breath. 

“I missed you,” he whispers against your lips, two hands cradling each side of your face, “So, so much. I never stopped looking for you,” you laugh through your tears, your eyebrows quivering as you hold onto him, “I could barely sleep since you’ve been gone and the only reason I did was so that I could dream of you.” 

You pull his neck down to press one, two, three chaste and salty kisses against his trembling lips.

“I would have taken you back even if you had burned the entirety of the North,” Gojo tell you in a low tone, “I would have taken you back even if you carved my heart out,” he kisses the tip of your nose tenderly, “Which you damn near did with that letter.” You laugh softly, his thumbs on either side of your lips as he cradles your face in the palms of his hands.

“I wish I never wrote it,” you say quickly, scrambling, your eyes darting around, “I never…” but he hushes you, shaking his head as he bring your head forward to place a longing and slow kiss on your forehead, one hand at the nape of your neck to force you look him in the eyes. 

“If he,” he pauses, his nose flaring at the mention of the man who tore you away from him, he controls the anger that boils and bubbles at his flesh at the thought of him touching you, threatening you, hurting you, taking you away from him, but he knows it’s not the time for that right now, he’ll deliver chastisement when he gets the chance, “If that man told you to kill me, to kill an entire group of my men so that he wouldn’t hurt you, I’d let you it in a heartbeat,” you feel him wipe a tear away, looking at your features, taking in everything he had been nearly dying without for so long.

“I’m so proud of you, my darling girl,” he says delicately and your eyes well up at his words, never hearing them before and never expecting Gojo to be the one to tell you after everything that you had done, “Going through what you did? Surviving on your own? Gods,” he lets out a little chuckle, dipping his head down so it could rest on your own, smiling at you through his own tears, “That’s what I’d expect from my wife.”

Your mouth parts a little bit and you sniffle, holding onto the back of his arms like he’s your anchor, a tether to reality, to show you that this isn’t a dream and that you’d wake up in your shack but that he’s here.

You feel his arms go lower though, grabbing your thighs from behind your skirts and petticoat, a sign that he wanted you to jump. So you oblige him, knowing he’d catch you regardless, and you silently wrap your legs around him again as his lips find yours once more, your chests moving up and down with labored breaths, but you don't’ need air, you just need him.

“Bed,” you murmur against his feverish lips, in between his dizzying kisses as your fingers slightly pull at his white strands, “P-please,”

Gojo pulls a little bit away, his eyes falling to your lips and then back up, almost in silent questioning. You nod once, needing for him to move, but he gets the gist, a smile, the first one you had seen that night, the first one from him you had seen in over a year, breaks onto his face, and he moves slightly back, nudging you with his nose to kiss him again and you do. 

When his thighs hit the back of the bed you feel like a feather as he twists you around in his arms, your hands never disconnecting from his shoulders he gingerly puts you against the mattress, climbing over your body to resume his movements. 

The two of you work in tandem, and you know when he’s growing restless, when he wants to explore the rest of your body. His lips trail from your lips to your jaw, pressing wet and splotchy kisses against the skin you have there before his lips move downwards, towards your throat. 

You lift your chin a little bit, giving him more access as he sucks your skin into his mouth. You let out a little whimper at the feeling, his teeth grazing your soft skin, and one of your mouth slowly falls open in a little part. 

Gojo feels like he’s finally taken his first breath of air when he sees the way he’s marking up your skin, and he knows that once he’s started, there’s doubt he’d ever stop. There’s sixteen months of his lips and touch and mark absent from your skin, and he wants to make up for that.

His hands are at your waist, but his fingers dig into the fabric covering it, frustrated with the barrier that’s still between the two of you.

Your eyes creep open when you feel him pull away, looking at his large body looming over yours with a little pout, one that disappear and melts into a little grin when you see him fumbling with the knot of your cloak, looking even more frustrated with trying to take off your bodice as quickly as possible.

“Here,” you whisper gently, your hand holding his as you move it away, sitting up on your elbows as you undo the knot, shrugging off the layer of warmth as you throw it to the side, “There’s a lace up in the back,” you say, about to twist your body around to show him how to undo the bodice before you hear a loud, almost animated riiip!

You stare down at shock, your chest completely exposed to him, naked and bare, and then to his hands, the culprits for tearing the fabric as if it was a piece of parchment and not heavily lined and stitched top.

Your mouth drops open, hands flying to cover your breasts, but he tsks, swatting your hands aside. 

“H-hey!” You exclaim, laughing a little bit at the way his eyes look at you, his brow cocked, heat blossoming across your cheeks and chest, your nipples pebbling in the cold air, “You can’t just - just rip it!” 

Gojo chuckles, rolling his eyes, moving up to get closer to your face as he leans down, pressing another searing kiss against your lips. 

“I didn’t wait all these months just to be halted by lace,” he mutters, his voice thick and primal and your breathing hitches at the sound, the near growl he has in his tone, and you don’t have it in you to argue with him, desperately needing his hands on you as if you’d die without his touch.

His head dips as he looks down, his eyes finally falling onto your tits, your nipples, your chest that moves up and down with each exhale, and feels his mouth suddenly go dry. He remembers the first time he saw your naked top, remembers that night in the fields vividly, but now that he’s spent so long without being able to look at them, it feels as if he’s seeing you like this for the first time all over again.

“Wait,” you sputter out quickly, your hands going up to your chest again and this time Gojo moves away, quickly and giving you some space as you sit up a little bit against the pillows and backboard, chewing on your lip in embarrassment, “I, um, I might look different, from…from the last time you saw me.” 

His white brows pinch together in confusion, but he lets you have the time to gather the words, no matter how much they make you want to see yourself aflame in shame.

The bandages around your hands had slipped off with all the movement, your skin riddles with small scars and bruises that came with chopping and hauling woods. You sometimes looked in your little mirror and saw somebody different.

“My hands,” you say, looking down at them, at the scratches from leaves and twigs, the coarseness on the pads of your fingers from wielding an axe for so many months, and you feel subconscious when his stare falls down to them, “And I…I don’t know, the rest of me, it’s not-” 

He cuts you off, pulling your hands away from your chest, but not for the reason you’d expect. He brings them up to his lips, pressing a kiss against each knuckle, the backs of them, the bottoms of your palms, and the only thing you could do is watch with bated breath.

“Do you want to know what I thought when I saw you again? Just outside, in the snow?” 

You shake your head, eyes peering at him with an air of curiosity.

“At first I thought that I had died,” he says with a chuckle, “But when I saw you, saw your face, your nose, your eyes, your eyebrows, your cheeks, your hands,” he saws with a little grin, squeezing them in his hands, “I thought that I was dreaming. You looked just like you did when I dreamed of you. And when you woke up, and I saw your eyes again, I felt the happiest I have since the day I last saw you.”

Your shoulders fall, the tension in them dissipating, and you smile gently at him. Of course Gojo would know how to ease your worries, even after a year and counting of not seeing you. And he pauses, a silent talk happening between the two of you, one where he wanted to make sure you were still comfortable. To which you nod, biting your lips a little bit in nervousness, good nervousness, as you do.

His large hands falter, fingers reaching to grab the soft mounds. You watch through your lids that were slightly dropping, the anticipation causing a heat to blossom in your core, and you bite your lip as you wait for him to move.

“You’re so beautiful,” he says in a hushed tone, wonder dripping from his voice as if he was seeing a statue come to life, a painting moving in front of him, “As beautiful as the day I last saw you,” his fingers rub soothing circles on your waist, “My beautiful girl,” he mutters, a small smile on his face that you mirror.

After another second of staring, Gojo makes his first decision, long slender fingers trailing up from your stomach, up your navel and to your left breast, cupping it, his thumb rubbing across your hard nipple as a small sigh escapes his lips. 

“G-gods,” he stammers, squeezing the flesh, feeling like a teenage boy rather than the man he’s grown up to be, “Soft,” he chokes out, leaning his head down, “So soft,” he murmurs, his lips latching onto it as you let out a gasp, his tongue rubbing over your areola and your back arches up into him. 

He sucks the tit into his mouth, his other hand moving upwards to squeeze and knead the other one, not wanting to leave her unattended. Your lashes flutter at the feeling, mouth dropping open in a quiet sigh when you feel his teeth scrape against your nipple, biting down on it a little bit as your fingers curl into his hair. 

“O-oh,” you’re able to say, “‘Toru, oh, oh gods,” you can’t think, can’t formulate a thought as he latches off with a pop, his chin dragging across your chest, his eyes never leaving yours as wrapped his swollen pink lips around your other tit.

He smiles a little bit at the sight of you crumbling from his mouth, flicking your nipple over with his tongue, biting down on this one as well as he moves upwards, sucking the skin around your breast, watching in satisfaction as dark hickeys bloom in the wake.

Your nails rake against his scalp, tugging a little harshly, but his eyes roll back at the feeling, loving the sting.

His lips continue to kiss your chest, moving down from the valley of your breasts and goes down, his spit shining in the candlelight as he kisses the soft skin of your stomach, just above your belly button and then lower, where the tear from your corset ends and the loops of your work skirt begins. 

You let out a whine, a keel as he sucks the skin into his mouth. 

“You’re s-such a tease,” you stutter out, and he looks at you from his white lashes as his lips make another mark, his tongue moving as he licks the spot, lovingly, and you try to smile back, but your head falls back against the pillow no matter how hard you tried. 

“I’m taking my time darling,” he corrects you, his hands moving the hem of your skirt, tugging it down a little bit but eyes eyes squint when he feels some resistance, “I need the woman I love to know just how much I cherish her,” he kisses your hip slowly, “Want her, “another kiss to your lower stomach, “Need her,” and he finishes by moving a little up to press a kiss to your sternum.

You catch your bottom lip beneath your teeth, one hand wringing into the sheets of the bed as you sigh shakily, the heat that’s in your core turning into a fire, one that is growing and burning you from inside out. 

Before everything happened, the two of you were burdened with the ever impending need of consummating the marriage. Gojo’s parents were understanding, never pushed the two of you, but the outside world seemed to ponder why your belly hadn’t grown in the months you had been together. Truth be told, you were always nervous, not knowing how to do it, what to do, where things go, and so you’d freak whenever the two of you got close to having sex. So Gojo would always pull back, assuring you that your comfort was the most important thing to him. And though there were nights when he's eating you out, bringing you to ruin on his tongue and fingers, but that was it. But now, it feels different. There was a growing desire in you that felt like it was about to burst the longer you didn’t feel him inside of you.

You can feel the ghost of his touch on your legs, the way his fingers trail slowly up your calves and to your knees, not long before settling on the meat of your thighs, squeezing them as he feels the soft plushness beneath him. 

It’s all so maddening.

“‘T-toru?” Your hands search for his, your chest moving with each labored breath, and you feel his hands move upwards, lacing his fingers between yours as his eyes search for what it was you wanted, “‘Toru, please, oh, please, I need you,” you murmur weakly, “Need you i-in me, please,” you beg, and see the way his pupils grow, his eyes barely even blue when you say the words inches away from his lips.

He lets out an animalistic grown, his eyes rolling back in his head as he plants a sloppy kiss against your lips, his hands falling down to the waistline of your skit, fingers fumbling to find the loop before he gives up, scrunching up the fabric between his fingers before you hear another rip. Looking down you see your skirt in tatters, the fabric looking like it had been mauled by a bear, and watch as he bundles it up and throws it to the side somewhere.

You go to argue but he raises a brow, wondering how you expected him to stay calm and put together when you utter such filthy words in his ear.

It takes you a second to find that you’re now completely naked beneath him, and while that doesn’t cause you to cover up the way you expected, you find yourself pouting a little bit, something that Gojo notices. 

“What?” He asks, his hand immediately cupping the side of your face, worried, “Is everything okay? Do you want to stop?” 

But you shake your head, hands pawing at his coat, nails scratching as you try to unloop the buttons. 

“‘S not fair,” you mumble, pointing to his chest and then to yours, your lips quirking up a little bit as your pout deepens, eyes all wide and open for him, the way you know makes his words turn to slurred speech, “I’m all bare and you’re…not…s’not fair ‘Toru,” there a little whine in your voice, one that causes his cheeks to go pink.

He grins, kissing your cheek apologetically as he nods in agreement. 

“You’re absolutely right darling,” he says, able to make quick work at tearing his coat off, swift finger fumbling to get his arms out of the sleeves, his hands going the either side of the tunic beneath him to lift it off and above his head, but the sudden touch of your hands against his skin makes him stop. 

He looks down to where your fingers are lying, atop his neck, your eyes wavering when you hook something out from underneath the dress shirt.

How could you have forgotten? 

You think to yourself, looking at the ring he had resting on the delicate gold chain. His wedding ring, the one he had told you ages ago he keeps around his neck so that it does fall off during training. Your fingers rub against it, feeling the cold sting of the gold, a familiar thing. But that wasn’t what caught your attention. No, your eyes fall to something next to it. 

The matching ring. Yours.

You let out a little shaky gasp, looking up to Gojo to only see him staring back at you, trying to gauge your reaction. 

“I…” he sighs, holding your hand in his, the one that was holding onto your ring, “I thought-” 

But you don’t let him finish his rambling, pulling him down by the chain of the necklace as you slam your lips against his, a new set of tears sprouting in your eyes as you feel the rings dance around your neck. 

Your fingers curl into his hair, digging them deep as your tears wet his cheek, your lips trembling against his as you hook a leg around his waist, your other hand holding onto the side of his face as you kiss him feverishly. You need him near you, need him to know just how much you have missed him, longed for him, need him.

But after a few seconds pass, he pulls away from you and your head moves up to chase him, but he sits up completely, your leg falling away from his waist as you watch him move his hands up to the necklace, tugging at it as it unclips from the back. 

You watch silently as he slides your ring off of the chain, holding it in the palm of his hand as it shines brightly in the candlelight. His white lashes flutter against his cheek as he twists the ring around. 

“May I?” Gojo says quietly, and you falter, looking down at your hand. 

The hand that you’ve lived by for a while, using it for cutting logs and trees, to collect twigs and leaves. The hand riddles with scars and bruises, some fading, some new. The hand that always felt light, no matter how many things you were carrying in it. The reason you always knew, but never wanted to admit it.

You bring it closer to his own, watch as he turns the ring around to face your finger. You feel like the seconds have turned into hours, your mind flashing to when the last time he placed this ring on your finger, when you were a little bit younger and naive, not knowing he’d be placing it on your same finger nearly two years later, but this time out of love and not from an arrangement. 

When it finally slides on you sigh a breath of relief, a tear escaping the corner of your eye, falling into your hairline as you hold the hand up, admiring its lost component that you’ve missed so dearly.

“My wife,” he whispers softly, almost to himself as if he couldn’t believe what he was seeing, bringing your hand up to his lips as he presses a kiss that lays over the ring, holding onto your hand tight, giving it a squeeze as he gently set it back down on the bed. He places the necklace back over his neck, taking his tunic off with one fluid motion after it clasped into place. 

You smile, full, content, and you lie back down against the pillows after a minute passed, your legs spreading a little bit to make room for him between them. His touch goes back up to your thighs, fingers searing in their place as his gaze finally, finally, drops down to your aching, burning core.

You watch as he undoes the buckle of his pants, his trousers being kicked off, his eyes never leaving your glistening folds, and you feel your heart rattle in your ribcage, waiting to just jump out. 

Your eyes rake over his naked torso. Gods, he looked even bigger if that was possible. He riffs with even more muscles all across his chest, his arms, and his abs, looking even more pronounced from when you last saw him. His shoulders stand broad and sturdy, a thick vein running across the white trail of hair leading down, and you feel yourself growing wetter at the thought. You’re so busy staring at him you don’t even realize that he too has put his focus down. Down to where you need him the most.

Your mouth goes dry at the sight. It’s the first time you’ve seen it in its entirety. Sometimes you’ve seen the outline from afar, feeling the length from layers of his clothes, but never like this, never so raw. 

It’s long, you think, and though you’ve never seen anyone else cock before, you know this must be above what was normal. It curved upwards, not fully standing up from how heavy it was. You wanted to guess that it was at least eight inches, and gods, he was thick. His cockhead spurted more precum, pink, almost red, and it looked like it was about to burst. 

Little white hairs grow from its base, soft and plush, and your eyes almost blur from lust at the sight. 

Gojo scratches the back of his head almost in embarrassment, a little flush to his cheeks as he snaps his fingers in front of your face to get you to look back at him and not his little friend downstairs. You gulp, slowly finding his gaze as you stare at his pink face. A blush had traveled across his cheeks and went to his nose and jaw. Your head tilted slightly, bottom lip caught underneath your teeth as you squinted a little bit. 

Was he…shy?

“Are you…” You almost want to laugh, but stop yourself, a questioning look in your eyes as you sit up a little bit, resting on your elbows as you grin, “Are you blushing?” 

Gojo rolls his eyes at your teasing tone, pinching your waist as you squeal a little bit, a fit of laughter falling from your lips when he refuses to answer. Though he tries to look tough, his demeanor cracks when he hears the musical sound of you giggling, a new noise that seems to bring a fresh wave of colors back into his dull grey colored life.

“I know you haven’t,” he swallows, his throat bobbing when he rubs a thumb slowly up and down your thigh, a comforting touch, “I know you’ve never done this before. And if you want to wait-” 

“No,” you say instantly, shaking your head, “No, I want this. I want you. I…I need you, Saotru, I need you so bad I think I’m going to start going crazy if you don’t…” you trail off, swallowing thickly as you look back to his groin, and your fingers itch to hold it, to touch it, to feel the velvety skin beneath yours.

Gojo’s mouth goes dry, his lips parting as his pupils grow again. 

You need him. You need him and oh gods does he need you. He thinks his heart will stop if he doesn’t have your warmth circling him, pulling him closer to you.

He nods slowly, gnawing on his lip as he continues to rub soothing circles on your thighs, scratching his jaw as he thinks about how to go about this. Though he hates to even think about it, this wasn’t his first time the way it was yours. But it was his first time with the woman he loved, and it felt like he was learning how to do it all over again.

“O-okay,” he says shakily, and here he looks like a young man in love, not the Northern warrior people forced him to become, just your Satoru, “I’ll go slow, okay? Hold my hands, squeeze them as tight as you want. If it becomes too much…” his brow furrow, heart lurching at the thought of hurting you.

“Then I’ll let you know,” you finish with a smile, a promising one as you lean up to rest your forehead against his, “And I’m a strong girl,” you say with a little tease, trying to relax the tension, “It takes a lot to bring me down.” 

Gojo chuckles, nodding at your words as he leans a little closer to peck at your lips. You fall back down to the pillows, your legs spreading again as his hands move away form your thighs, going to your cunt, spreading some of his slick on them as he brings it to his cock, breathing slightly through his teeth as his fingers make contact with it, lubing it up as he lines it up with your entrance. 

He looks at you once, and you nod, smiling, telling him you were ready. 

He pushes the tip in, and feels your walls clench instantly around him. The stretch is there, and your eyes flutter shut, his hands traveling up through the sheets to grab at yours, your fingers lacing together as he brings them to your head, watching your reactions, fearful that it was too much. 

But you nod again, wanting him to continue. 

He pushes his way in little by little, your tight cunt fluttering and squeezing around him with each inch, biting down on your lips to keep the sounds in. It’s not too much, but you know that if Gojo heard he’d stop it immediately. Because while it does hurt a little bit, the sting is good, and the more he lets you settle in it, the more it actually becomes pleasurable. 

Gojo lets his cock sink into, letting you take all the time you need to adjust to his size, squeezing his hands as your fingers dig into his skin.

“G-good? Do you want to stop?” He’s able to bite out, feeling like he was about to cum with the way you’re clenching around him. But his eyes are still filled with worry, not knowing what you were feeling with the way you were staying quiet. 

You take a deep breath, biting the inside of your cheek as you slowly open your eyes, looking down to where your bodies were connected, and a little gasp escapes your lips when you see that he’s somehow managed to fit all of himself inside your tight walls, your cunt spasming around his girthy cock. 

You moan, mouth falling open as you grip onto his hands again, quickly nodding, needing him to move.

And Gojo takes it. 

He slowly begins to pull out, your cunt weeping wetly with his absence, and he gives it a second before he slams back in. 

“Umph!” You whine, eyesight going white when his cockhead hit the spongy part of your cunt, nudging at it as you feel achingly full, a good full, “Oooh, oh, ‘Toru, it’s…ohh,” and he knew it was a good oh because you were growing wetter around him, your slick staining his dick and the sheets beneath you.

He pulls his hips back out before he goes back in, creating a steady rhythm that makes your legs feel useful, wrapping around him to keep him as close to your middle as possible. You can hear the squelch whenever he pushes himself back inside, and can feel the way you spurt around him.

“You’re doing great darling,” he says encouragingly, praising you as your finger clench and unclench, “Doin’ so great for me, you know? So perfect, my perfect wife, fuck, oh, s-shit,”

He pulls the back of your hand to his lips, kissing it before he lets go, bringing your now empty hand up to his shoulders, his own hand falling in between your bodies as his finger find your clit, rubbing and pinching at it with such a speed that you feel like you’re finally going towards the light. 

“S-so tight,” he moans out, head falling down to your chest as he takes in a nipple between his teeth, sucking your tit into his mouth, needing something to with his tongue, “You’re s’warm, fuck, it’s so, so fucking good,”

You nod feverishly at his words, mewling in agreement, the ability to talk dying right in front of you, your walls turning to mush the more he slams himself inside of you.

It feels like lightning when his fingers continue their movements on your pulsating bud, his cock molding your cunt into its shape, your hot warmth trapping him inside like a honeypot, barely allowing him to move but pulling him back inside whenever he pulls away, needing to chase after the intoxicating feeling. 

You feel like crying and laughing, never expecting to have this moment happen. You want to pinch yourself, to see if maybe you were dreaming. You feel all your emotions wash up as Gojo kisses your chest, feel the excruciating pain you first felt when you ran away, the lonely feeling when you were surviving on your own, to live by yourself, pretending that he’d be there to wake you up.

And sure, you dreamed that you’d see him again, but you never thought he’d believe you, let alone forgive you. You never thought he’d be like he always was, kind and caring, loving you with such tenderness that it feels like you never left. You never thought he’d fall in love with you twice, but maybe that was your biggest mistake. Because Gojo Satoru never stopped loving you just like you never stopped loving him.

You feel tears prickle as your eyes, your nose scrunching up to hide your sniffles, a sound that quickly catches his attention. 

He looks up from your sternum, fear flooding through his eyes when he sees the tears that roll down the side of your face, the watery look of your eyes and the way you turn your head away so that he wouldn’t see you.

He instantly stops, pulling out of you as his hands quickly go to your cheeks, tapping your jaw, worried, anxious as he begs for you to look at him. 

“Hey, hey,” he mutters quickly, his hands slightly trembling, thinking he had hurt you terribly, “We can stop darling, it’s okay, don’t worry,” but you shake your head, a tremor in your lips as you look at him, hands covering your face as you feel tears wet your finger.

“It’s not that,” you whisper, choking on a cry, “‘S not that, it feels good, really good,” you add, sniffing again as your nose scrunches up. Gojo falters, rubbing away your stray tears, eyes looking everywhere to figure out what was wrong. He lets you find your words, even if it takes a minute.

“I…I just,” you sigh, pushing your lips together tightly as you look at him, “I missed you so much Satoru, I m-missed you, and,” you feel his eyes gloss over, “And I’m sorry I didn’t write o-or tell you anything. I love you,” you tilt your head up slightly to kiss him softly, “I love you so much. I know this isn’t what-” 

“No,” he interrupts, shaking his head to cut you off, knowing that you might spiral, “I don’t care about the time, darling, I don’t care how long it took to have you again,” a tear off his falls on your cheek, “Just that I have you again. That I have the woman I love back in my arms is enough for me,” he promises and you laugh wetly, rubbing at your eyes. 

He kisses your tears away, balancing himself above you as he nudges his nose against yours, something he does when he wants to catch your attention, when he knows you’re lost in your own mind. 

You smile again, your hand falling in between your bodies to line himself up again with your entrance. He stutters, going to stop you, but you shake your head, wanting this, wanting  this more than anything, and let your legs wrap around him again. 

“I love you,” you whisper against his lips, feeling his cockhead push a little bit again past your aching walls.

His head drops down to your chest, not wanting you to see him break. Not wanting you to see the way he cracks because he never thought he’d hear you say those words again, never thought he’d see your lips form around those tender words, to give him such a divine feeling. 

“I love you,” he says huskily, gasping it out as he sink in a little deeper, “I love you so much, so so much,” he kisses your chin, “So much that even if it took a century to find you I’d still love you as much as the day I first loved you,”

You giggle a little bit, kissing him messily as you moan against his lips, your cunt stretching again to fit his size, cradling the side of his face in your hands.

“I’m…I’m never letting go of y-you ever again,” you stammer, a little moan escaping you when a vein scratches deliciously against the side of your pulsing walls, “‘M yours, S-satoru, all yours.” 

He groans, hands finding purchase on your waist as his eyes squeeze shut, too many feelings, all good feelings, coursing through him.

“Everything I have, e-eveyrthing I am and will be is yours,” he says, his voice breaking, “I was always yours to begin with.” 

Your nails scratch down the flexing and large muscles of his back, leaving red lines in their wake as he picks up his face, your own tears, spit, juices, everything, mixing together as you moan in tandem.

“So good!” You whine, toes curling, your arm wrapping around his neck to pull him down to your chest until you were flush against each other, kissing against him messily, licking into his open mouth as you moan even louder when he angles his hips a certain way to reach even deep inside of you, if that was even possible, “T-think…think I’m ‘gonna…!”

That same buzz grows, that feeling of an incoming orgasm approaching you quickly. You were warned that it was difficult for a woman to finish during sex, and some of your friends often told you how they usually lay there until their husbands finished. But it wasn’t like that with Gojo, not at all. You have no idea how much time has passed, but it feels far quicker than usual.

His fingers never give up their pace on your clit, and your walls clench around him, a new feeling growing inside of you.

“‘Toru, I think I’m ‘gonna c-come,” you hiccup, your orgasm building up, “I t-think…” 

He nods, biting your bottom lip between his teeth, feeling his own release creeping up on him, feeling the white hot flash grow in his groins.

“I know darling, I k-know,” he mutters, kissing the side of your mouth as his motions quicken, needing to feel you come with him, “I know, let go, come on, I know you can, let go for me darling, there it is.”

You let out your last moan when you feel your orgasm wash over you. 

It’s blinding, exhilarating, and for a second you think you nearly died from how good it was.

You spray around his cock, gushing with your release. It wets his balls, dripping down onto the sheets, his abs shining wet from the way you squirted all over him. You want to feel embarrassed, but quite frankly can’t because of how utterly spent you feel.

Gojo opens his mouth in a silent exhale when his own orgasm happens, spilling his cum deep inside of you, painting your walls white with his seed as he spurts, seeming like it was never ending. 

You feel yourself clench around him at the feeling, your entire body feeling even warmer at his cum reaching deep inside of you. He came so much that it overflows from inside, coming out from the sides of your cunt, mixing with your own juices as the two of you try to calm down from your mind-shattering climaxes. 

And despite how tired you feel, a giddy smile makes its way onto your face. 

Your husband is right next to you. You could have only dreamed this moment happening.

Gojo looks down at you, smiling too, his head tilting to the side. 

“W-what?” He asks with a quiet chuckle, his cock still nestled inside you, and the thought makes you feel even giddier, turning your face to the side, smushing it against the pillows to mute your bursts of laughter.

But it’s no use, because Gojo leans down to the side of your face, kissing your cheek and jaw gingerly as he smiles against your skin, wiping the excess tears away from the corners of your eyes. 

“What’s got you laughing, hm?” He says, his voice slightly muffled against your cheek and you giggle even louder, unable to control it, his fingers not helping as they place tickling and fleeting touches all over our naked and sweaty skin. He can’t help himself and laughs too, the sound hearty and loud, bouncing off the walls as you squirm around, your lips pulled wide, a toothy smile etched permanently onto your face. 

“S-stop!” You wheeze out, his fingers everywhere, your arms, legs, thighs, stomach, fast and unforgiving, trying to squeeze every but of the wonderful sound out of you so he could bottle it up and keep it forever, “S-satoru, s-stop! Please!” 

You push at his chest, eyes bright and full of mirth, looking back at the man you loved, his smile bright and blinding. You want to have this moment forever, over and over again, never ending, and you never want it to end. He finally pulls away, looking down at you with such adoration and love in his shining eyes that you feel like you’re about to go blind.

He pulls himself out of your warmth, kissing the back of his teeth when you pulse around him again, and his limp cock hangs satisfied. He pushes the mixture of his cum and your juices back in with his thumb, something primal filling him seeing you full of his seed. 

Your legs twitch, slapping his curious hand away when it starts to trail back up to your clit, and watch him send you a little wink, a little sign for what’s to come later. Not now, though, because he sees the way your eyes are drooping, your hands resting on your stomach as you pat the empty space next to you. 

Gojo obliges, falling down on the rumpled sheets, turning to the side to look at you.

You sigh, happy, full, and breaking at the seams with love. He lets the same sigh out, his pink lips pulled into an easy grin, months of exhaustion washing away from his body as he loops an arm under your waist, tugging you closer to his chest.

The two of you stay there in comfortable silence, grieving the months you lost, celebrating the moments just spent together, finding each other over and over again even if it tore you apart in the process. 

He kisses your hairline, your forehead, the corners of your eyes. You preen like a cat, humming when you feel him kiss your cheek and your lips, pressing his last kiss to the tip of your nose, something he used to do when you were about to go to sleep. 

“Sleep now” he whispers against the side of your head, pulling the blanket to cover your bodies, his hold of you never letting go, “I’ll be here when you wake up,” he smiles, pausing before saying, “I promise,”and you smile softly, craning your head up to look at him. 

You fight back the tears, at the thought of waking up next to him, just like you always dreamed you would. 

“You promise?” You murmur, feeling one last tear fall, one tear of joy, utter joy, and he catches it with his thumb, his blue eyes wavering like a clear sky without a singular cloud, and you watch as his throat bobs, eyes roaming all over your face, still can’t believing you were real. He hums deeply, tipping your chin up to meet him in one last longing kiss, lips moving gently along one another.

“I promise.”

[miriani-lavellan]

Ahh, Lucanis. So let me first say, his scenes make total sense and I'm happy with what we got - we all want more from our faves, but they did manage to compact a lot of trauma and resolution in some fairly compact quests. Here's what I think happened that wasn't made explicitly clear though:

Lucanis chooses the pantry to sleep in because he's been imprisoned and tortured for a year, and he's not ready to leave captivity yet, not inside his head. He locks himself in there because it's familiar misery to him, which is easier to deal with than scary freedom.

Lucanis' letter to Rook before he asks Emmrich to bring Zara back for questioning tells us he's suicidal at that point, and probably has been for a while. Spite, however, doesn't see him as a lost cause - he never uses that to take over Lucanis' body entirely. This is so interesting to me, when we know things like that pretty famously happen all the time in Thedas. He's determined to keep Lucanis alive - and he asks for Rook's help in doing so.

We are in the NORTH now BABY! Attitudes towards spirits and demons are different here, especially in Rivain, and it seems with our Rook too, who never expresses any chantry-esque hang ups (that I've seen). Seer Rowan greets Spite as Determination, and that's how he's introduced by Isabela (with some excitement) if you fight in the hall of Valor. What happened to Spite is just as sad as what happened to Lucanis. He was violated, perhaps corrupted, and definitely trapped - and hurts Lucanis sometimes in his frustration. But, I think he likes Lucanis! He's his host's little head gremlin, and I think the relationship they have (that we don't see too much of) is healthier than any of the possessed individuals we've seen before.

Because? Lucanis is not a spiteful person. He wants revenge, yes, and he's angry, but he doesn't hurt everyone around him because he's in pain. One of the first things he does when he becomes part of the team is go shopping for them. And despite how Ilario and Caterina have hurt him - and you can argue all day whether he's right to be like this - he still cares for them.

I think that when we help Lucanis leave the prison inside his head, we are helping Spite to return to his original nature as Determination just a little more. We're determined to help our friend, and you know what? Spite is too. For himself, firstly, because Lucanis's pain is hurting him, but in the end, he's done it for Lucanis too. There's an argument there that Determination didn't get corrupted at all - just hurt, and that Lucanis, with his loving nature, has been keeping him from turning into a mindless demon of pain.

I thought for a long time that when Lucanis breaks away from kissing Rook, it was because Spite said something horrible to him. But actually, I think it was Lucanis himself, remembering how trapped he is. Thinking about the eventuality of killing himself - I strongly suspect that's what he was thinking about before he fell asleep, and that's why Spite was trying to go walkabout - trying to get out from where Lucanis can't. Lucanis got lost in the moment, but of course he doesn't want to drag Rook into that.

Lucanis making dessert for Rook and thinking that's the same as asking them out (but not actually asking them out) is so completely on brand for him I laughed. He has no idea what he's doing. It would have been nice, though, for Rook to reply to one of the companion's 'so you're together?' banters with... 'we are?' Or for Rook to be able to ask him. Unfortunately, we don't get those convos where we can spam ask questions etc like in DA:I - I did wonder if that got cut and we missed some resolution to that.

Lucanis gives no shits about everyone knowing he's Rook's love interest. He's not ashamed of himself or scared he'll hurt them - Rook has helped both him and Spite. And judging by the way Spite's wings come out to embrace Rook as they kiss Lucanis, I suspect that Spite might love them, too.

[fangdokja]

You tried to break up with him… but did you ever really want to?

❤︎ Synopsis. You thought walking away from him would set you free, but now you’re trapped in a game of his making, where every step away pulls you closer into his dark web. Breaking up was never an option—he’s already planned your return.

♡ Book. Whispers in the Dark (WITD): Subtle Devotion, Lingering Shadows.

♡ Pairing. Yandere! Chrollo Lucilfer x Fem. Reader, Yandere! Johan Liebert x Fem. Reader, Yandere! Geto Suguru x Fem. Reader (separate)

♡ Headcanons. Never Really Gone - Part 1

♡ Word Count. 6,342

♡ TW. dom + top + older yandere, general non-con + heavy manipulation, sexual themes, fear play, hints of rough play and sex, isolation, monitoring, lack of boundaries, non-con kissing and/or touching, forced relationship, BDSM, gaslighting, victim blaming, psychological manipulation and conditioning, manipulation of circumstances, white knight strategies

♡ Note. All art on the banner does not belong to me, and belongs to the artists who created the artworks.

♡ A/N. Yes, I wanted to philosophize this time. Been a while, since I wrote something like this. But, actually, before Tumblr and Ao3, I wrote these kinds of works often. Anything in relation to morality, humanity, existential questions, and more. It's fun.

♡ Yandere! Chrollo Lucilfer whose philosophy is rooted in the idea that nothing is truly unattainable. He grew up in a world where survival was an art, and morality was an illusion crafted by the powerful to control the weak. To Chrollo, freedom isn’t about doing what you want—it’s about taking what you desire, consequences be damned.

♡ Yandere! Chrollo Lucilfer who applies this philosophy to you with a terrifying elegance. He doesn’t love you like a man loves a woman; he loves you like a collector loves a rare artifact. You are a piece of perfection he wants to study, admire, and ultimately keep under lock and key. His love is subtle, almost suffocating in its gentleness. He doesn’t need to raise his voice or make threats; his words are calculated to burrow into your mind and make you second-guess your every thought.

♡ Yandere! Chrollo Lucilfer who uses your intelligence as a hook, weaving conversations so deep and enthralling that you forget he’s untangling every thread of your mind. He is endlessly patient, unraveling your independence slowly, methodically, until you reach a point where you don’t know where you end and he begins.

In your relationship, Chrollo is attentive but detached, like a scientist studying a delicate experiment. He knows when to praise you, when to pull back, and when to remind you of just how much you need him. He never forces his will outright; instead, he leaves breadcrumbs, ensuring that every choice you make feels like your own—when in truth, he’s orchestrated it all.

———

♡ Yandere! Johan Liebert whose philosophy is a chilling combination of nihilism and superiority. He sees the world as a fragile construct, its meaninglessness a playground for his manipulation. To Johan, people are tools, and love is the ultimate form of control—an emotion that binds people tighter than fear or violence ever could.

♡ Yandere! Johan Liebert who views you as an exception to his usual detachment. Your quiet demeanor and sharp mind fascinate him in a way he can’t quite explain. You’re not like the rest of the world—mindless, hollow, and easily disposable. You’re a puzzle he wants to solve, a light he wants to snuff out and relight just to see how it flickers.

♡ Yandere! Johan Liebert who expresses his love with an eerie calmness. He doesn’t smother you with affection or demand anything from you; instead, he quietly infiltrates your life. He learns everything about you—your fears, your dreams, your weaknesses—and uses that knowledge to become indispensable. He convinces you that he’s the only one who truly understands you, the only one who can keep you safe in a world that’s out to destroy you.

In your relationship, Johan is a paradox. He’s gentle, considerate, and impossibly kind, but there’s an undercurrent of control in everything he does. He’ll encourage your independence on the surface while quietly sabotaging any attempt to leave him. He’s the type to smile and say, “I’ll wait for you,” even as he ensures that no one else ever gets close enough to take his place. To Johan, love is about possession, and possession is eternal.

———

♡ Yandere! Geto Suguru whose philosophy is steeped in a twisted sense of superiority and duty. He believes that the strong have an obligation to protect the weak, but only those who are worthy. His disillusionment with humanity has left him with a stark view of the world—most people are parasites, unworthy of existence. But you? You’re different.

♡ Yandere! Geto Suguru who sees you as a rare exception to his disdain. Your quiet intellect and detached nature resonate with him, a kind of purity he thought had been lost to the world. You’re not a parasite; you’re a treasure, someone who needs protection—not from the world, but from yourself.

♡ Yandere! Geto Suguru who loves you with an intensity that’s almost reverent. He admires your mind, your resilience, but he also sees your fragility, and it terrifies him. He doesn’t want you to break under the weight of the world, so he takes it upon himself to shield you, even if that means isolating you from everything and everyone else.

In your relationship, Geto is controlling but not overtly so. He frames his actions as concern, his possessiveness as devotion. He doesn’t raise his voice or demand obedience; instead, he calmly explains why his way is the best for you. He creates a world where you feel safe and cared for, even as he slowly strips away your autonomy.

To Geto, love is a responsibility, a sacred bond that justifies any action. He doesn’t see himself as manipulative or cruel; he genuinely believes that what he’s doing is for your own good. And even if you hate him for it, he’ll accept that—because your hatred is still a form of connection, and he’ll take anything you’re willing to give.

────────────

♡ Yandere! Chrollo Lucilfer who was drawn to you the moment he noticed the sharpness in your eyes. You had a mind that cut through deception like a blade, a presence that remained unshaken even under scrutiny. You never sought validation, nor did you waver under pressure—you existed on your own terms, and that made you utterly fascinating to him.

♡ Yandere! Chrollo Lucilfer who admired your strength but saw it as something that could be refined, polished into something even greater. And who better to be your guide than him? His involvement in your life was never forceful, never imposing. It was patient, meticulous. A thoughtful conversation here, a well-placed question there. “You’re remarkable,” he’d muse, studying you with a gaze that saw too much. “But do you ever wonder if you’re carrying too much alone?”

♡ Yandere! Chrollo Lucilfer who never took anything from you—rather, he gave. Insight, solutions, a sense of ease. Slowly, almost imperceptibly, you began to turn to him. Not because you had to, but because he always seemed to have the answers, the right words at the right time. A reassuring presence in the background of your life, always available, always understanding.

♡ Yandere! Chrollo Lucilfer who never demanded your dependence, yet it became inevitable. He never corrected you outright, only offered perspectives that made you rethink your choices. “I trust you, of course,” he’d say, a gentle lilt in his voice. “But sometimes, even the most brilliant minds need a second opinion.” And over time, you found yourself hesitating before decisions, waiting—expecting—his input.

♡ Yandere! Chrollo Lucilfer whose love felt like a safety net you didn’t realize you needed. By the time you noticed how much of yourself had subtly reshaped around him, it no longer felt like change—it felt like growth. A natural evolution, one where he was woven into the fabric of your existence. And that was all he had ever needed.

———

♡ Yandere! Johan Liebert who recognized something rare in you the first time he met you. Not just intelligence, but an elegance in how you carried yourself. A quiet depth, the kind most people overlooked. You weren’t swayed by charm or intimidation; you existed in your own world, untouched by the trivialities that consumed others. And that made you irresistible to him.

♡ Yandere! Johan Liebert who never sought to change you—no, that would be crude. Instead, he aligned himself so seamlessly with you that his presence felt like an inevitability. He listened with an attentiveness that made you feel understood in a way few ever had. “You’re extraordinary,” he’d say softly, his admiration never loud, never overwhelming. Just a simple truth, spoken like a secret only he was privy to.

♡ Yandere! Johan Liebert who became your quiet refuge, the person who knew exactly how to soothe the weight on your shoulders. He never told you that you needed him, never implied that you were weaker alone. But somehow, in moments of uncertainty, his words would surface in your mind. “You overthink things sometimes,” he’d once told you with an affectionate smile. “You don’t have to bear it all alone.”

♡ Yandere! Johan Liebert whose influence never felt like pressure, only gentle guidance. He never dismissed your thoughts, only reframed them. “You’re brilliant, but even the most brilliant minds falter under unnecessary burdens.” His words never undermined, never dictated. Yet they lingered, shifting the way you perceived yourself, the way you navigated your own decisions.

♡ Yandere! Johan Liebert who, without ever asking for it, became the foundation you leaned on. And by the time you realized how deeply his presence had integrated into your life, it felt too natural, too comforting to pull away. After all, what was so wrong about relying on someone who had only ever wanted the best for you?

———

♡ Yandere! Geto Suguru who was intrigued by you from the start. A woman who stood with unwavering confidence, who carried an unspoken wisdom in her gaze. You weren’t someone easily impressed, nor did you seek approval from others. You knew your own worth, and that fascinated him.

♡ Yandere! Geto Suguru who never sought to diminish your strength, only to ensure it was preserved. “You’re exceptional,” he’d tell you, watching the way you dismissed the weight of his words. “But strength isn’t just about standing alone. It’s about knowing when to let someone stand beside you.”

♡ Yandere! Geto Suguru whose care never felt like control. If anything, he encouraged your independence—praised it, even. But beneath that praise was something else, a quiet implication that true strength was knowing when to yield. “You don’t have to prove anything,” he’d remind you, his voice soft but firm. “Not to me. Not to anyone.”

♡ Yandere! Geto Suguru who never outright questioned your choices but always offered an alternative. “I trust you,” he’d say with a smile, never condescending, never doubtful. “But have you considered another perspective?” And it was never an argument, never a dismissal—just enough to make you pause, to make you wonder if your certainty was truly your own.

♡ Yandere! Geto Suguru who, with time, became the voice in your head, the presence you unconsciously sought out before making a move. Not because he had ever demanded it, but because he had gently guided you to a place where his insight felt indispensable. Where, without even realizing it, you had come to need him just as much as he had always needed you.

♡ Yandere! Geto Suguru who made his love feel like a sanctuary, a safe place to rest. And in the end, you never saw it as dependence—you saw it as trust. A quiet, unshakable trust that tethered you to him in a way you couldn’t quite explain, yet never wanted to escape.

────────────

♡ Yandere! Chrollo Lucilfer who folds his hands neatly on the table as you tell him, your voice unsteady, that you think the relationship needs to end. He listens without interrupting, his expression as serene as ever, the faintest trace of curiosity in his eyes.

♡ Yandere! Chrollo Lucilfer who tilts his head slightly, the movement so slight it’s almost imperceptible. “You’ve put a lot of thought into this,” he says, his tone warm and understanding. “I can see how difficult this is for you.”

♡ Yandere! Chrollo Lucilfer who doesn’t argue or plead, instead leaning back in his chair with a thoughtful expression. “If you feel this is best for you, I won’t stop you,” he says, his voice measured and calm. “But I do wonder…” He pauses, just long enough to make you glance at him. “Is this truly what you want? Or are you running from something you don’t fully understand yet?”

♡ Yandere! Chrollo Lucilfer who lets his words linger in the air, unchallenging yet heavy, like the weight of a velvet curtain falling over the conversation. “Regardless,” he continues, “I respect your decision. You’ve always been someone who values their independence.”

♡ Yandere! Chrollo Lucilfer who, as he pays the bill and walks you to the door, doesn’t make a single misstep. His movements are fluid, his smile genuine. “Take care of yourself,” he says softly. “I only want what’s best for you.”

♡ Yandere! Chrollo Lucilfer who watches you walk away, his expression neutral, almost unreadable. There’s nothing overt, nothing dramatic, just a quiet shift in his gaze that feels like a shadow passing over the sun.

———

♡ Yandere! Johan Liebert who sets down his coffee cup with a soft clink when you tell him, in a trembling voice, that you need to end things. His expression doesn’t change—calm, patient, as though he’s hearing something inevitable.

♡ Yandere! Johan Liebert who leans forward slightly, resting his chin on his hand as he listens to you. “You feel like you’ve lost yourself,” he repeats, his tone thoughtful. “That must have been so difficult to admit.”

♡ Yandere! Johan Liebert who doesn’t try to dissuade you, doesn’t argue or press for answers. Instead, he nods slowly. “If leaving is what will make you happy, I won’t stop you,” he says gently, his words carefully chosen, as though he’s weighing each one before speaking.

♡ Yandere! Johan Liebert who lets the conversation drift into silence, his gaze soft yet focused. “I hope you find what you’re looking for,” he says after a moment. “And if you ever need anything—anything at all—I’ll always be here for you.”

♡ Yandere! Johan Liebert who watches you stand and gather your things, his smile faint but sincere. “You’ve always been strong,” he murmurs as you hesitate at the door. “Even now.”

♡ Yandere! Johan Liebert who remains seated long after you’ve left, his expression unchanged. There’s no visible reaction, no sign of distress—only the quiet stillness of someone who never truly lets go.

———

♡ Yandere! Geto Suguru who sets aside his tea with a quiet sigh when you tell him, in a shaky voice, that you want to break up. He leans back slightly, his dark eyes thoughtful as he processes your words.

♡ Yandere! Geto Suguru who gives you his full attention, his brows furrowing slightly in concern but not disbelief. “I see,” he says softly. “You’ve been feeling this way for a while, haven’t you?”

♡ Yandere! Geto Suguru who nods slowly as you explain, his expression calm but attentive. “You don’t feel like yourself anymore,” he repeats, his tone careful and deliberate. “That’s not something I ever wanted for you.”

♡ Yandere! Geto Suguru who leans forward, his elbows resting on the table as he regards you with a quiet intensity. “If this is what you need,” he says, his voice low and steady, “then I won’t hold you back. You deserve to be happy, even if it’s without me.”

♡ Yandere! Geto Suguru who stands as you gather your things, his movements slow and deliberate. “You’ve always been someone who knows their own mind,” he says, his voice almost wistful. “I admire that about you.”

♡ Yandere! Geto Suguru who watches you leave, his posture relaxed but his gaze lingering on the door long after it’s closed. He doesn’t move for a long time, his expression serene, though there’s an almost imperceptible tightness in his jaw—a subtle crack in the façade.

────────────

♡ Yandere! Chrollo Lucilfer who, after the breakup, doesn’t chase after you. He respects your decision—or so it seems. He remains polite, understanding, and almost distant, as if he’s already moved on.

♡ Yandere! Chrollo Lucilfer who reaches out with carefully calculated timing, sending you little notes or messages that seem innocent. “You left your favorite book at my place. Should I drop it off, or would you prefer I mail it?” A reasonable question, but the reminder of how well he knows you lingers in your mind.

♡ Yandere! Chrollo Lucilfer who subtly plants seeds of doubt without ever making it obvious. He’s a ghost in your life, popping up in conversations with mutual acquaintances, always painted in a positive light. “Chrollo’s been so generous lately; he helped fund a library downtown.” His altruism makes you wonder if you misunderstood him.

♡ Yandere! Chrollo Lucilfer who manipulates circumstances so that you start to feel isolated without realizing it. A lost job opportunity here, a canceled appointment there—small inconveniences that seem coincidental but slowly erode your confidence.

♡ Yandere! Chrollo Lucilfer who remains patient and kind when you reach out to him in moments of weakness. “I’m here for you, no matter what,” he says, his voice soft and reassuring. “You don’t have to do this alone.” It feels genuine, but his subtle inflection reminds you of how much easier life felt when he was by your side.

♡ Yandere! Chrollo Lucilfer who ensures that you remember the best moments of your time together. A framed photo he “forgot” to return, a familiar scent in a letter—it’s never blatant, just enough to make you second-guess whether leaving him was truly the right choice.

———

♡ Yandere! Johan Liebert who remains composed and graceful post-breakup, never pushing boundaries or demanding your attention. He doesn’t reach out directly, but his presence feels inescapable.

♡ Yandere! Johan Liebert who ensures you hear about him through others—always in glowing terms. “Johan organized a fundraiser for the children’s hospital. He’s such a kind soul.” The stories make you question how someone so compassionate could have ever harmed you.

♡ Yandere! Johan Liebert who plants doubts in your mind with precision. A single comment during a chance encounter: “You seem tired. Are you sleeping well?” It’s not accusatory, but the implication lingers, making you wonder if you’re truly okay on your own.

♡ Yandere! Johan Liebert who subtly orchestrates situations where you feel overwhelmed and vulnerable. A sudden financial setback, an unexpected confrontation at work—problems that only seem to resolve themselves when he’s tangentially involved.

♡ Yandere! Johan Liebert who appears at just the right moments, offering support that feels both coincidental and inevitable. “I didn’t mean to intrude, but I noticed you were struggling. Let me help.” His calm demeanor makes refusing him feel illogical, almost cruel.

♡ Yandere! Johan Liebert who always speaks to you with warmth and understanding, his words like a balm to your insecurities. “You’ve always been strong,” he says softly, “but even the strongest people need someone to lean on.” His sincerity feels unshakable, even as his influence quietly tightens around you.

———

♡ Yandere! Geto Suguru who doesn’t fight the breakup, respecting your decision outwardly. He gives you space, never contacting you directly—yet his presence feels as steady as ever, a quiet force lingering just out of reach.

♡ Yandere! Geto Suguru who subtly ensures that you notice his absence in your life. His knowledge of your routines allows him to step back at critical moments, leaving a void that feels unnervingly hollow.

♡ Yandere! Geto Suguru who uses logic as his weapon, planting subtle doubts with precision. A chance meeting at the grocery store leads to a calm, reasoned conversation. “You’ve always been independent,” he says casually, “but it’s not weakness to need someone, you know.” His tone is gentle, unassuming, but his words stay with you.

♡ Yandere! Geto Suguru who doesn’t sabotage you outright but instead carefully positions himself as the only stable constant in your life. When other relationships falter or opportunities slip through your fingers, he’s always there, offering quiet, unwavering support.

♡ Yandere! Geto Suguruu who uses your own logic against you. “I understand why you left,” he tells you in a rare moment of vulnerability. “But I wonder if you’ve thought about what you really need. What makes you happy?” His words are measured, reasonable, and devastatingly effective.

♡ Yandere! Geto Suguru who never pushes too hard, his manipulation so subtle it feels like guidance. His calm demeanor and thoughtful advice make you question whether he’s truly the villain in your story—or if you’ve misjudged him entirely.

────────────

♡ Yandere! Chrollo Lucilfer who waits patiently, never rushing, as the cracks in your resolve begin to show. He continues to be the steady, reliable presence in your life, always there when you falter but never overtly pushing.

♡ Yandere! Chrollo Lucilfer who uses your love for independence as the final thread to weave you back to him. He leaves an innocuous invitation one evening: a handwritten note left in your mailbox. “There’s something I think you’d find interesting,” it reads. “Come if you’re curious. No pressure.”

♡ Yandere! Chrollo Lucilfer who takes you to a quiet library hidden deep in the city, its dimly lit shelves lined with rare, obscure texts—exactly the kind of place that would ignite your curiosity. He shows you something you’ve never seen before: a book you’ve spent years searching for, one you’d nearly given up hope of ever finding.

♡ Yandere! Chrollo Lucilfer who smiles softly as he places the book in your hands, his voice barely above a whisper. “I couldn’t let you miss out on this,” he says. “It’s too perfect for you. It belongs with you.”

♡ Yandere! Chrollo Lucilfer who, as you flip through the pages with trembling hands, adds, “There are more like this. Rare treasures, hidden away. I’ve already started gathering them for you. No one else would understand their value the way you do.”

♡ Yandere! Chrollo Lucilfer who, with his calm voice and unwavering gaze, ensures you feel that only he could ever truly see you, that his presence in your life is not control but a partnership you’d be foolish to walk away from.

———

♡ Yandere! Johan Liebert who never pressures you, never raises his voice, and never crosses a line—his demeanor as gentle and perfect as it’s always been. He remains at the edge of your life, always watching but never intervening overtly.

♡ Yandere! Johan Liebert who appears on your doorstep one rainy evening, his expression calm but his eyes soft with concern. In his hand is an envelope. “I wasn’t sure if I should show you this,” he says quietly, “but I couldn’t bear to keep it from you.”

♡ Yandere! Johan Liebert who hands you a collection of documents—letters, reports, and photographs that seem to detail a series of coordinated misfortunes in your life. The lost job, the failed opportunities, the strange tensions with old friends—all traced back to a third party whose name you don’t recognize.

♡ Yandere! Johan Liebert who lets you pore over the evidence in silence, his presence steady but non-intrusive. “I didn’t want to worry you,” he finally says, his voice low and steady. “But I’ve been keeping an eye on it. Whoever it is—they’ve been trying to isolate you. I’ve done my best to protect you, but...”

♡ Yandere! Johan Liebert who watches as the realization dawns on you: the world is far more dangerous than you thought, and you are far more vulnerable than you ever realized. His timing is perfect—just as your walls are crumbling, he positions himself as your only sanctuary.

♡ Yandere! Johan Liebert who places a hand on yours, his touch warm and steady. “You don’t have to face this alone,” he says. “You’ll always be safe with me.”

———

♡ Yandere! Geto Suguru who lets you spiral on your own, his involvement so subtle you don’t even realize how carefully he’s guiding you back to him. He never imposes, only steps in when absolutely necessary, his calm presence soothing your growing unease.

♡ Yandere! Geto Suguru who, one evening, reaches out with a cryptic message: “I found something that might interest you. Thought I’d share it with you before anyone else.” Attached is a link to a seemingly unrelated incident—a local scandal, a breach in security at a place you once frequented.

♡ Yandere! Geto Suguru who meets you in a quiet café to discuss it, his tone as calm and logical as always. “It’s strange, isn’t it? The way things have been unraveling around you.” His words are measured, his expression thoughtful, as though he’s piecing together a puzzle.

♡ Yandere! Geto Suguru who, after weeks of planting subtle hints, reveals his “final discovery”—a detailed explanation of how vulnerable you’ve become without him. He shows you the ways the world has already begun to erode your security, pointing out how reliant you’ve unknowingly been on his guidance all along.

♡ Yandere! Geto Suguru who leans back in his chair, his eyes calm but piercing. “I never wanted to burden you with this,” he says softly, “but I’ve been handling it for you. Keeping you safe. If you’d rather face it alone, I’ll respect that. But... I hope you’ll let me help you, as I always have.”

♡ Yandere! Geto Suguru who knows exactly when to pull back, leaving the choice in your hands—but ensuring that the only logical answer is to stay with him.

────────────

♡ Yandere! Chrollo Lucilfer who doesn’t pressure you after helping you with the book and other rare treasures. Instead, he gives you time to process, staying polite and distant as though respecting your boundaries.

♡ Yandere! Chrollo Lucilfer who contacts you weeks later with a calm, measured voice. “I just wanted to check in. You seemed troubled last time we spoke. I hope I didn’t overstep by helping you.” His tone is apologetic but faintly accusatory, planting the idea that you’ve been ungrateful for his efforts.

♡ Yandere! Chrollo Lucilfer who listens carefully as you stumble through your words, his quiet sigh barely audible over the line. “I understand,” he says softly, “but it’s disheartening, you know. I’ve always supported you, even when you pushed me away. I thought we were a team.”

♡ Yandere! Chrollo Lucilfer who turns the conversation into a reflection of your supposed failings. “I never wanted you to feel weak or helpless,” he says, his voice laced with disappointment. “If anything, I was trying to help you see your potential. Was that really so wrong of me?”

♡ Yandere! Chrollo Lucilfer who subtly reframes every moment of doubt you’ve ever had as evidence that you need him. “I saw how hard you were struggling,” he murmurs. “You didn’t see it, but I did. I thought... I thought you trusted me enough to let me help.”

♡ Yandere! Chrollo Lucilfer who lets silence hang in the air, his tone calm but weighted when he finally speaks again. “But maybe I was wrong. Maybe I should’ve let you fall instead of trying to catch you. Would that have been better?” His logic is irrefutable, his manipulation so subtle that it feels like an honest conversation.

♡ Yandere! Chrollo Lucilfer who ends the call with a resigned but loving note: “I’ll respect your decision, but know this—I only ever wanted what was best for you. I hope, one day, you’ll see that.” The guilt lingers long after the conversation ends, pulling you back toward him.

———

♡ Yandere! Johan Liebert who doesn’t push after revealing the evidence of your supposed “stalker.” He lets you sit with the knowledge, never bringing it up again unless you do.

♡ Yandere! Johan Liebert who runs into you by chance at a quiet café. He smiles softly, his demeanor as kind and understanding as always. “You look well,” he says warmly, but there’s a hint of concern in his eyes. “I’m glad you’re safe.”

♡ Yandere! Johan Liebert who, when you thank him for helping you, brushes it off with a graceful wave of his hand. “I only did what anyone would’ve done,” he says. “But it’s good to see you taking control of your life again. I was worried about you for a while.”

♡ Yandere! Johan Liebert who, over the course of the conversation, gently reminds you of all the ways you’ve struggled since leaving him. “It’s not your fault,” he assures you, his voice soft and soothing. “You were trying to be strong, but the world isn’t always kind to people like you—people who see things differently.”

♡ Yandere! Johan Liebert who subtly blames you for your insecurities without ever making it obvious. “You’ve always been so brilliant,” he says, “but sometimes you get lost in your own mind. That’s why I stayed—I wanted to ground you, to help you focus on what really matters.”

♡ Yandere! Johan Liebert who smiles sadly when you start to falter. “I know I’m not perfect,” he admits, his tone tinged with regret. “But I’ve always believed in you, even when you didn’t believe in yourself. That’s why it hurt so much when you left—it felt like you didn’t trust me anymore.”

♡ Yandere! Johan Liebert who leaves you with a parting comment that stays with you long after he’s gone: “You’re strong, but strength doesn’t mean pushing everyone away. I hope you’ll remember that.”

———

♡ Yandere! Geto Suguru who remains calm and composed after showing you how vulnerable you’ve become. He doesn’t push or pry, allowing you to come to your own conclusions—or so it seems.

♡ Yandere! Geto Suguru who waits until you reach out to him, his voice steady and reassuring when you speak. “I’m glad you’re okay,” he says sincerely. “I was worried you might’ve felt overwhelmed after everything I told you.”

♡ Yandere! Geto Suguru who never raises his voice or shows frustration. Instead, he uses reason to guide you back to him. “You’ve always been so determined to stand on your own,” he says, his tone thoughtful. “But sometimes, it’s okay to admit when you need help. It doesn’t make you weak—it makes you human.”

♡ Yandere! Geto Suguru who subtly reframes the breakup as a mistake on your part. “I didn’t want to say this before, but when you left, I was... worried about you. You’re so capable, but the world isn’t always fair. I just wanted to make sure you didn’t lose yourself.”

♡ Yandere! Geto Suguru who carefully plants the idea that you were at fault for how things ended. “Maybe I was too involved,” he says, his voice tinged with regret. “But I only wanted what was best for you. If that came across as controlling, then... maybe I need to rethink how I approach things.”

♡ Yandere! Geto Suguru who gives you just enough space to doubt your own decisions. “I never wanted to take anything away from you,” he says softly. “I wanted to help you build something better. But maybe I failed in showing you that.”

♡ Yandere! Geto Suguru who ends the conversation with a quiet, almost resigned comment: “Whatever you decide, just know that I’ll always be here for you. I can’t promise I’ll stop worrying, but I’ll try to respect your wishes.” His logic, his kindness, and his subtle manipulations leave you questioning whether you ever truly understood him—or yourself.

────────────

♡ Yandere! Chrollo Lucilfer who watches you crumble before him, your voice thick with regret, your hands trembling as you reach for him. He doesn’t stop you. Instead, he lets you grasp at his coat, his touch featherlight as he brushes away the tears staining your cheeks. “No, my love,” he murmurs, his voice velvet-smooth. “You were simply lost. But now you’re here, where you belong.”

♡ Yandere! Chrollo Lucilfer who holds you that night, his body heat wrapping around you like a silken cage. His lips trace the slope of your neck, his breath a whisper of devotion. His fingers skim the ridges of your spine, languid and patient, memorizing every inch of your body. “I would forgive you a thousand times,” he breathes, “as long as you never leave me again.”

♡ Yandere! Chrollo Lucilfer who makes love to you as if he’s weaving scripture into your skin, each touch deliberate, each thrust a vow. His hands map your body with a reverence that borders on obsession, his lips branding you with soft, lingering kisses. And yet, there’s an edge beneath his tenderness—a silent warning in the way his nails dig just a little too deep, the way he marks your throat with his teeth.

♡ Yandere! Chrollo Lucilfer whose dark gaze never wavers as he cups your jaw, tilting your face toward him. His voice is soft, almost hypnotic. “Say it,” he coaxes, rolling his hips with slow, devastating precision. “Tell me who you belong to.” When you moan his name, it’s a prayer he drinks in greedily, his smile both serene and possessive.

♡ Yandere! Chrollo Lucilfer who strokes your hair afterward, his lips grazing your temple as you succumb to exhaustion. His voice is barely audible, a lullaby meant for your ears alone. “Even if you left me again, I would always find you.” And though his words should unnerve you, the weight of his arms around you is far too comforting to resist.

———

♡ Yandere! Johan Liebert who cups your face in his hands as you break apart before him, your apology spilling from your lips in frantic sobs. He hushes you gently, his thumbs smoothing over your damp skin, his eyes filled with something you can’t quite decipher. “You don’t need to apologize,” he whispers, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “I knew you’d realize, sooner or later, that I was only protecting you.”

♡ Yandere! Johan Liebert who takes his time with you that night, his touch languid and knowing, as though he’s unraveling you piece by piece. He kisses down your spine, savoring every shudder, every hitched breath. “You’re perfect,” he murmurs against your skin, his hands molding to your hips, holding you in place as he takes what is his.

♡ Yandere! Johan Liebert who moves with slow, intoxicating precision, drawing out every whimper, every moan until you’re trembling beneath him. His grip tightens, his control absolute, and yet his voice remains unbearably gentle. “You were made for me,” he murmurs, his lips grazing the shell of your ear. “No one else will ever know you the way I do.”

♡ Yandere! Johan Liebert whose every touch is a calculated act of devotion, his movements measured, each moment orchestrated to ensure you never forget the way he makes you feel. His lips curl into a soft smile when you cling to him, your breathless cries spilling into his skin. “That’s right,” he purrs. “Stay with me. Just like this.”

♡ Yandere! Johan Liebert who traces lazy circles against your bare shoulder as you lay entwined in the aftermath. His voice is almost absentminded, laced with quiet amusement. “It’s fascinating,” he muses, “how easily you let me shape you. But that’s all right—you don’t need to think about that.”

———

♡ Yandere! Geto Suguru who watches you with quiet patience as you stammer through your apologies, his fingers threading through yours as if to ground you. He tilts his head, his gaze unreadable. “You don’t need to explain,” he murmurs, brushing his lips over your knuckles. “I always knew you’d come back to me.”

♡ Yandere! Geto Suguru who handles you with deceptive gentleness that night, his touches reverent, his kisses lingering. And yet, there’s no mistaking the quiet command in his movements, the way he holds you against him as if daring you to slip away. “You’re mine,” he murmurs into your skin, his teeth scraping over your pulse. “You always have been.”

♡ Yandere! Geto Suguru who takes his time breaking you down, his pace unhurried yet devastating, his hands keeping you right where he wants you. His voice is low, soothing, as he whispers against your ear. “You don’t have to think anymore,” he coaxes, his fingers threading through your hair, his grip just firm enough to remind you of his strength. “Just let me take care of everything.”

♡ Yandere! Geto Suguru who leaves traces of himself all over you—bruises shaped like fingerprints, love bites blooming across your skin like evidence of his devotion. His lips brush against your temple, his voice a promise disguised as a lullaby. “You’ll never need anyone else,” he murmurs. “Not when you have me.”

♡ Yandere! Geto Suguru who holds you close as you drift into unconsciousness, his fingers idly tracing patterns over your spine. His voice is barely more than a breath, a thought he speaks into the darkness. “Even if you wanted to leave, I’d never let you.” He pauses, his lips curving against your skin. “But you won’t, will you?”

────────────

If you want to be added or removed from the tag list, just comment on the MASTERLIST of Whispers in the Dark (WITD): Subtle Devotion, Lingering Shadows. Thank you.

General TAG LIST of “Whispers In The Dark”: @keisocool , @elvabeth , @elloredef , @mjsjshhd , @lem-hhn

❤︎ Fang Dokja's Books.

♡ Book 1. A Heart Devoured (AHD): A Dark Yandere Anthology

♡ Book 2. 🔞Forbidden Fruits (FF): Intimate Obsessions, Unhinged Desires.

♡ Book 3. World Ablaze (WA) : For You, I'd Burn the World.

♡ Book 4. Whispers in the Dark (WITD): Subtle Devotion, Lingering Shadows.

[agatalunar]

· . ˚ *  * How do others perceive you? · . ˚ *  *

it would be a pleasure for me if you let me know if the reading resonated with you so do not hesitate to send me a message, comment or reblog, it will make me immensely happy

choose the gif with which you feel most connected/attracted

Pile 1… 2… 3…

⠀〜 Pile 1

Cards: king of wands, the moon, the justice, eight of cups

You are afraid that others will see who you really are and others notice this, they see potential in you but for some reason you don't dare to express it. You have a lot of light inside you but something stops you, you have an infectious laugh. It's as if you wanted to be a rockstar but in your environment you avoid being perceived, there is no balance between what you want and what you do. Others perceive that you hide, but... why do you do it?

You may think that you don't stand out in the crowd, but it's quite the opposite. No matter how basic you dress or how little you speak, you always have eyes looking at you and admiring you.

It's like you're a greek goddess/god trapped in the body of a mere mortal, there's a potential in you that others perceive; little by little take control of that potential, play with makeup and clothes, play with the way you walk and act, you have a mesmerizing aura that others can't resist. Don't be afraid of being perceived. Don't let fear take away your path to success, the world is waiting for you. I don't even know you but I love your energy, you are a star baby!! The world needs an icon of freedom and authenticity like you.

The vibe you bring to the function:

Things that may resonate with you or are significant:

Luces de Nueva York by Sonora Santanera, Hold me tight by BTS, “can you trust me?”, wear a lot of black, having hair up/short, redhead, 11, 18, Endlessly by Kali Uchis, “watch me with your eyes”, Chappell Roan, Vanity by Christina Aguilera, 1920, 🏳️‍🌈, queer, 888, Bjork, feminine power, “who’s the real me?”, Villain by PIXY, have an audience, fill stages

⠀〜 Pile 2

Cards: ace of wands, king of cups, queen of swords and nine of cups

You don't let others take power over you, others notice the limits you set and that can sometimes intimidate them. You're like that person at the party that everyone wants to talk to but they don't because you have such a strong energy, they love to admire you. No matter how you identify, you have a super well-balanced masculine and feminine energy.

Others love your hair, the way you move when you dance, you may really like silver jewelry or accessories, animal print? Others notice that you have a very mature energy, they perceive you as someone responsible and who knows what they want in life, you are an extremely attractive person, you are such a beautiful human being that your beauty imposes

You love spending time alone or at least you know that your happiness doesn't depend on others, it only depends on you. Although maybe the only thing you haven't completely healed is the fact of feeling vulnerable with someone else, and yes, I'm talking about loving connections. Let your soul feel what it's like to be in love, let someone like you. Don't let the fear of being sensitive take away the possibility of creating deep and beautiful connections.

The vibe you bring to the function:

Things that may resonate with you or are significant:

Heavens on fire by KISS, 9, Lo que Paso Paso by Daddy Yankee, Can’t get you out of my head by Kylie Minogue, scary beauty, Never say never by The fray, When loves is around by Zayn (feat.Syd), dance to transmute energy, 🐆, 🤎, black hair, Bad girl by WOOAH, Lest fall in love for the morning by Finneas, Hey Ma by Pitbull, You should be dancing by Bee Gees, fast and furious, She’s not afraid by One Direction

⠀〜 Pile 3

Cards: knight of coins, seven of wands, eight of cups and the death

You have a very calm energy, others perceive you as a peaceful person, you have very diverse tastes.

You are a very beautiful person but you don't notice it? Or you just don't give it any importance. Others love spending time with you because your presence attracts calm, you love to see the sky, you probably meditate or you like philosophy and reading a lot, you like to write. They love you because you are not one to criticize, you just want to take it easy, you understand that each individual goes their own way.

Somehow I feel that you have the gift of transmuting the energy of others, the negative energy of the world, you do it automatically so take good care of yourself, rest and eat well. You are like a teacher of life, possibly your soul is an old soul. You let others know a lot about your tastes, your personality and your law of life but you don't let them get too close to your personal life, I don't see it as something bad but understand that there are people in the world that you can trust, not all of them are selfish or bad.

The vibe you bring to the function:

Things that may resonate with you or are significant:

Sagittarius, air sign, indie kid, Sex, drugs, etc by Beach Weather, alternative music, lying on the grass/admiring the scenery, the pandemic is significant in your life, viral music from tiktok or music from 2019-2021, I love it by Charlie XCX, kpop, Work - Rihanna, Break free by Ariana Grande, diary, Emma Chamberlain, 5, goblin/fairy vibe, Doja Cat, “talking bad is not my style”

Thanks for your time and energy, I hope you liked it <3

[beifong-brainrot]

Actually I WILL talk about Mai's seeming 'radicalisation'. With the upcoming comic, I can see why a lot of people are confused/caught offguard by Mai suddenly having a vested interest in reforming the Fire Nation's school curriculum.

However, I don't think it's as much of a heelturn as one would believe at first glance.

Mai is a difficult character to pinpoint on some levels, particularly due to her upbringing which stripped her of a lot of her self expression. I think most of the fandom underestimates the trauma and effect of Mai's upbringing. I elaborate on it here.

However, the long and short of it is that Mai was not encouraged to question, criticise or, god forbid, rebel against her enviornment. To the point where her parents scared her with stories of spirits that would kidnap her if she misbehaved.

Ukano's involvement in politics and relatively high status should also be taken into account. Mai would have grown up being strongly encouraged to conform to her father's beliefs and go along with his politics.

Mai : My mother said I had to keep out of trouble. We had my dad's political career to think about.

We've seen the propaganda and indoctrination of the Fire Nation school system, how it uses misinformation in its curriculum and how it punishes deviance.

Most fire nation children won't have the tools to find the cruelty and danger in the philosophy of the Fire Nation. Zuko had to get banished from the country to even start his deconstruction. And he had Iroh at his side to guide him.

It's not shocking that Mai would not be able to see the flaws of the Fire Nation. Despite this, she still shows no attachment to the Nation's cause, either. In fact, she actively refused to take part in the war effort when she thought she could get away with it.

I don't think Mai had much sympathy to the other nations, nor will I claim she secretly harboured anti imperialistic sentiment. I simply want to state the fact that Mai was, from a young age, forced to do things she didn't want to do and conditioned by multiple parties, to accept this. Mai has been trained to be passive, with only the method of passive aggressiveness and gloominess to defend herself.

I think after the fall of Ozai's rule and the slow restructuring of the Nation, Mai got more freedom in her life. Ukano's political role diminished, so Mai was allowed to think for herself. She gets to discover the world more and develop her own thoughts and ideals, rather than the ones she'd been forced to conform to.

This line in the upcoming comic seems to confirm my thoughts:

Mai's upbringing is the underground and darkness. She was never given an alternative or agency in her life. And thanks to Zuko, she was able to see and experience a different world than the one she was brought up with. She is able to help to try and achieve it.

Initially, Mai is angry at Zuko's joining of team Avatar. She feels betrayed and upset that he did not talk to her in person, even if it was to protect her. And yet, she saves him. While I believe that most of her motivation was genuinely out of love for Zuko. But she also, ekther inadvertently or deliberately made the choice between Azula and Zuko. Between the two potential duture leaders of the Nation.

And she chose Zuko. Who is not only the boy she loves, but also the boy who can heal her nation.

There is an argument to be made about how Mai represents the Fire Nation itself and its relationship to Zuko, but that is a topic for another day.

The theme of Mai caring for the future of the Fire Nation can be seen expanding in the comics. As 99% of the fandom will tell you, the comics have their flaws, but I do enjoy their handling of Mai for the most part.

I think it's interesting that we are shown that Mai not only wants Zuko to be Fire Lord, but for him to be a good Fire Lord.

We see her dissapointed in Zuko secretly meeting with Ozai. At first glance, what she says to Zuko is that she is dissapointed in him keeping secrets from her, which is understandable, since the last time he kept a secret from her led to him joining the opposite side of a war.

However, with her next appearance, we see that Mai may have had another concern relating to Zuko's communing with Ozai. When Ty Lee informs her of Zuko also enlisting Azula's help, Mai exclaims 'so he really is turning into his father', which seems to denote that Mai has a distaste for Ozai and his rule, whether that be from the begining, or recently acquired.

Mai also criticises Zuko's callous and controlling restrictions over the frightened townspeople. This serves to further cement the idea of Mai becoming disillusioned with the similarly inclined authority figures of her past. Authority figures who were a symptom of the Fire Nation's utilitarian and imperialistic system. We see this disdain manifesting in its full force in the teasers for the upcoming comic.

I think people tend to not realise how restricted in her self expression and thoughts Mai was, despite all the puzzle pieces being laid out for us in the show.

Mai has gone through a very quick and yet realistic episode of character growth in my opinion. Not unlike a lot of people raised in heavily Conservative and restrictive households who peel off later in life, she's settling into her own mindset and motivations.

Ans I don't think it's an unrealistic idea for Mai to want to help change the education system. The Fire Academy for girls is where she met Azula, and as an all girl school alumni, I can tell you first hand how toxic and confining these enviornments can be.

While Mai may not be seen as a particularly empathetic or kind person (though I think this interpretation is flawed), she can sympathise with the young girls who will be placed in the shoes of her younger self.

She can want to not see these kids go through what she, Ty Lee AND Azula did.

[The panels of Mai glancing between the stifling interior of the school and the open window and choosing to go outside and lead the Nation's youth outside... ugh]

Not only is this a rather logical progression for Mai's character, in my opinion, but it also feels like a very big 'healing your inner child' moment for Mai. Since she was not really seemingly allowed to be a child, as most children in the Fire Nation appeared to have such restrictions placed on them.

I don't think it's much of a stretch of the imagination that Mai would want to have at least a small part in dismantling the system that harmed her and so many other children of the nation.

She is a young woman now, she has grown from the oversheltered, apathetic teen she was in the show. She has been able to make her own informed opinions about the state of the nation, has been able to hone her trauma into determination. And it seems we're going to see the fruits of this development in "Ashes of the Academy".

I have very high hopes for the upcoming comic, since what we've seen of it appears to make a compelling story, one I relate to deeply, as well as a good study of Mai, a character I find often misinterpreted by the fandom.

[itsnesss]

how about a jun ho smut fic? :) where he stops reader cuz she’s not wearing a helmet and she flirts with him to not give her a ticket but the second time this happens she tries to do the same thing but he wants more? :)) lets just say that they take their little adventure to reader’s house and they literally just fuck

tyy <333

𝐚𝐯𝐨𝐢𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐞 | hwang jun-ho × fem!reader

summary | the request

warnings | smut, explicit content, evade the law?, sexual tension, consensual sex, power dynamics, oral sex, p in v, unprotected sex

word count | 2.0 k

author's note | it would help me a lot if you liked, commented and reposted so that more people read what I write and don't forget to follow me, thanks ᡣ𐭩

The roar of your motorcycle engine reverberates against the buildings as you glide through the streets of Seoul. The wind brushes your face and messes up your hair, but you don’t wear a helmet. You hate how it ruins your style, even though you know it’s foolish. Despite that, you feel an unparalleled freedom, as if you could escape everything.

But your momentary euphoria comes to a screeching halt when you see red and blue lights reflected in the side mirrors. You curse under your breath as you slow down and park by the curb. A police officer approaches slowly.

He’s tall, with perfectly combed dark hair and a face straight out of a K-drama. His deep, serious eyes lock onto yours with a mix of disapproval and authority, forcing you to look away for a second.

“Do you know why I pulled you over?” he asks, his voice firm but not hostile.

You know perfectly well, but you decide to play innocent. “For an excess of style?” you reply, flashing a coquettish smile.

He doesn’t smile. He takes out his ticket book and starts writing.

“For not wearing a helmet. It’s dangerous for you and others.”

You lean slightly toward him, letting your leather jacket slide a bit to reveal your collarbone. You look at him with eyes full of feigned innocence.

“Come on, officer, it’s not that serious. I promise I’ll wear a helmet next time. Do we really need to do this?”

Hwang Jun-ho, according to the name on his badge, sighs and shakes his head.

“It’s not going to work.” He hands you the ticket, ignoring your blatant attempts.

Your smile fades. You take the ticket, feigning a pout as you start your motorcycle again. Before leaving, you cast him one last glance. “What a waste,” you think as you ride away.

A few days later, fate plays another cruel trick on you. You’re speeding through downtown, once again without a helmet, when you see those familiar lights behind you.

You sigh and pull over, already knowing who it is. And there he is, wearing the same serious expression, as if he’s tired of you but also entertained by your brazenness.

“Again?” he says, crossing his arms over his uniform.

You step off the bike, letting your boots make a deliberate noise against the pavement. You walk toward him, this time with more confidence.

“I guess I just can’t help running into you, Officer Hwang. Maybe it’s destiny.”

He doesn’t respond, but you notice his jaw tighten slightly. You lean in, letting yourself invade his personal space.

“You should let me off this time. You already gave me a ticket, remember?” Your fingers lightly brush the edge of his badge.

This time, something in his gaze shifts. It’s not quite a smile, but his lips curve slightly.

“Do you really think flirting with me is going to get you out of this?”

“Maybe.” You bite your lower lip, knowing you’re playing with fire.

Jun-ho puts away his ticket book. It surprises you, but before you can celebrate your small victory, he leans toward you. His face is dangerously close, and his voice drops to a near whisper.

“If you’re going to play, make sure you know the rules.”

Your heart races as you try to figure out if he’s joking or as serious as always. You decide to take your chances.

“And what are the rules, officer?”

His smile widens, but he says nothing. Instead, he hands you a card with his phone number.

“Call me if you decide you’re ready to play for real.”

Before you can respond, he walks away, leaving you frozen on the sidewalk.

That same night, you can’t get his face out of your head. You decide to text him. You don’t have much to lose.

You: “What kind of game did you have in mind, officer?”

The reply comes minutes later.

Jun-ho: “Are you home?”

Your stomach flips.

You: “Yes. Why?”

Jun-ho: “I’m coming over.”

Your heart pounds as you rush to tidy up your apartment. You have no idea what you’re doing, but there’s something about him that intrigues you too much to stop.

When you hear a knock at the door, your breath catches. You open it, and there he is, still partially in uniform, but without the jacket and with his tie slightly loosened.

“You don’t waste time, do you?” you say, trying to keep your composure.

“You texted me first.” He closes the door behind him, his eyes scanning you from head to toe.

There’s a palpable tension in the air, and as you step toward him, you both know neither of you plans to stop.

He leans in, his lips meeting yours with an intensity that leaves you breathless. His hands, strong and assured, find your waist and pull you closer. You feel the heat of his body against yours as he guides you toward the couch.

“Is this part of the rules?” you ask, trying to catch your breath.

Jun-ho smiles against your neck, his voice low and full of desire.

“We make the rules. What matters is that we both agree".

You smile, but you no longer have the composure to joke. Your body responds to his presence, desiring him more with each passing moment.

You slide your hands over his torso, feeling his muscles tense under your touch. He grunts as he removes his shirt, his eyes shining with desire when he sees you already naked in his arms.

His fingers move closer to your chest, playing with your nipples and making them harden. You moan, leaning towards him and desperately seeking his mouth. He gives you a stronger kiss, their tongues intertwining as he caresses you.

A second later, your pants fall to your feet, and your boots hit the floor. Jun-ho slides down, kissing every inch of your skin with a perfect combination of tenderness and desire.

He reaches for your black panties and pulls them down with an expert motion. He tosses them aside, bringing his face closer to your pussy.

"I want to see you," he says, his black eyes shining.

You don't know what to expect, but then he starts licking you with small flicks of his tongue. You moan when his mouth meets your clitoris, his lips surrounding it. Your breathing becomes irregular as you melt in his arms, your hands in his hair as he licks you more and more. Your stomach beats hard, the tension in your body growing with each second until you explode in his mouth, a torrent of pleasure that leaves you trembling.

But he doesn't stop there. He gets up, his fingers slipping two of them into your pussy while he licks you, your body reacting once more, the tension inside you growing until you're about to come for the second time.

"Do you like it?" he says, looking at you with his dark and bright eyes, his voice full of confidence as he sits on your couch.

You moan as you straddle him. You see him lower his pants, his cock hard and ready for you. You touch it, feeling its thickness and warmth in your fingers. He sighs, his eyes closing for a second before looking at you with more passion than before.

"Put it inside," he says, his voice a plea.

You obey, lowering yourself onto his cock and feeling it make its way into your pussy. Your breath catches for a moment as you adjust to him, but soon you're moving, his thighs between yours as you rock back and forth on his member.

His mouth finds yours, a desperate kiss while he caresses you. His fingers play with your nipples, making them harden while he fucks you, your breath quick and shallow.

His arms wrap around your body, pulling you tighter to him as he fucks you harder and faster, your pussy adjusting to his thickness.

"You are so fucking hot" he says, growling in your ear. "So fucking sexy".

You laugh as you speed up, your breath hitching as you feel the pleasure grow in your body. Jun-ho moans, his fingers gripping your hips and pulling you down once more.

"Jun-ho..." you say, your voice a moan, pleasure a torrent within you.

He kisses you, his eyes meeting yours in a moment of passion and connection. You feel yourself falling onto him once more, the tension building until you explode, your muscles contracting around his cock.

He moans, his body trembling beneath you. You have the impression that it's not what he expected, but he can't stop either. A second later, he comes inside you, his fingers digging into your skin as he gasps against your face.

You are sitting on him for a moment, wrapping your arms around his body while you wait for him to calm down. Finally, you slide to the side, his fingers caressing your breasts with a gentle and slow touch.

"I think I should never wear a helmet again," you say, smiling against his chest.

Jun-ho laughs, his arms wrapping around you with a warmth that makes you feel safe and calm.

"No, of course not, you will use it" he says, stroking your hair.

You laugh in turn, knowing that perhaps, after all, the freedom you have always been looking for was there, waiting for you on a street in Seoul.

[stjohnstarling]

I've been astonished by how much people seem to love my weird and experimental project held together by duct tape and string, especially since so much of it flies in the face of the way I've been taught publishing is supposed to work. The conventional way authors survive online is to release books for sale as frequently as possible - whereas I've been focusing on giving each project as much time as I can, and releasing them slowly (so far I've done a Dracula-inspired novel.) I’ve been making the sort of transgressive queer writing that mainstream publishing is too nervous to touch right now, and I've been giving it away in my newsletter for free.

I want to keep telling stories for free, forever. Only there's one problem: I'm going to need A Lot more subscribers to my newsletter. I have just under 5000 readers right now - I’m going to need at least double that.

Conventional wisdom also says that Tumblr is a dead end, but I'm convinced that this is one of the last places on the internet that capable of fostering real, counter-cultural queer expression - precisely because we are so often left out and forgotten by the mainstream. Half the reason I'm on this website is because of the culture of absolute resistance to advertising. Unfortunately, that also makes my job here rather hard. If things continue to go well, between Patreon, sales of special editions, and a couple small ads, I think I can just about get away with doing this. But I need your help.

If you're someone who's hungry for good stories and:

❧ You're sick of being sold superficial, safe, and sanitized queer stories that shy away from genuine expressions of socially unacceptable desire

❧ You see sexual freedom as inseparable from queer liberation, and you want to see that explored in metaphor via a vampire seducing a priest

❧ You want to read modern queer fiction that's aware of the deep and rich history of queer culture

❧ You want to help foster a project that would create new avenues for underground and transgressive forms of queer expression

Then you should subscribe to What Manner of Man! It's sexy and boundary-pushing and kinky, with fire in its veins.

If this works, I'll be able to take on bigger and more ambitious projects than I ever have before (it's mad scientists next, and I have some pretty mad ideas!)

Thank you for your time! Reblogs deeply appreciated.

[astrolovecosmos]

12th House Strengths & Insights

The 12th House is absolutely the house of undoing and what is hidden. Many times the focus is on challenges, trauma, hidden enemies, and other negativities for this house. Even my own posts have a lot of this. So here are potential hidden strengths and advantages for those who grow within this house.

Aries/Mars: Has a good handle on their anger and assertiveness, learns confidence, picks their battles carefully, embraces their physical desires and prowess, passion is at the heart of their strengths, may love exploring their identity or define it strongly, puts themselves first, doesn't stress over other people's opinions, defends or fights for others and themselves, empowers themselves through bravery, independence, self-focus, and honesty.

Taurus/Libra/Venus: May heal any negative relationships with women in their life or their own femininity, see's beauty in many things - especially themselves, loves the self and has a lot of self-worth, knows how to comfort themselves, learns cooperation, negotiation, and compromise, is so magnetic, finds power through finances and the material world, finds inner security, brings stability or reassurance to others, has power through traits or things others define as "soft" or "weak", many may admire or be inspired by them.

Gemini/Virgo/Mercury: Has an open mind, is empowered through knowledge, is an eternal student and teacher, communication and persuasion become their strength, their sharp mind is their greatest asset, learns to listen to others and themselves, makes space for their voice and opinions, has a talent for cheering others up or ruining their day with just their words and maybe even with a look, embraces flexibility and change, a great problem solver, highly observant, thoughtful, and always ahead of the game.

Cancer/Moon: Their intuition is strong, they are deeply in touch with their emotions and primal self, focuses on healing themselves, can be an amazing healer or counselor, they seek out healthy attachments, they give love freely, compassion is one of their biggest strengths, doesn't fear the magic and sensitivity within them, vulnerability is a strength, protective over others, takes care of people, puts emotional needs first, is fiercely loyal, is the watchdog, learns to be understanding and more careful, guides family and community.

Leo/Sun: Takes pride in themselves and others, realizes their talents and strengths, knows and fights for their worth, speaks up, may embrace the limelight or leadership, uses creativity and bold self-expression to empower, self-motivation and energy become a great resource, creates their individuality, learns to love the self passionately, is grand and faithful in how they love others, defines their own honor and purpose, things like generosity, affection, play, and warmth become easy for them to give/do, learns the importance of putting the self first, makes a strong impression, rules their world.

Scorpio/Pluto: Learns self-forgiveness and how to trust themselves, has a strong connection to their depth, intuition, and subconscious, see's potential in people or things others do not, on the path to self-mastery, may be a spiritual or emotional teacher, leader, or healer, their transformations from what is hidden to what is seen/open may be violent, intense, or stark, knowledge can empower them with a focus on knowledge that is secret, exclusive, hidden, or obscure, empowered through facing their fears or pain, won't shy away from their passion or darkness and finds strength in it, taps into their sex-appeal or magnetism, gains incredible perception and influence.

Sagittarius/Jupiter: Fights for what they believe in, lives and speaks openly, takes big risks for big rewards, makes their own luck, keeps an open mind, finds great meaning in many things, empowers themselves through independence, freedom, truth, and defining their own beliefs, self-faith is their superpower, finds wisdom in being silly or playing the fool, learns to take things less seriously, responsibility may mean something different for them than others, leads and cares for others with passion.

Capricorn/Saturn: On a path to develop self-autonomy and self-authority, they are in control of themselves and their life, learns to be calculated and strategic, keeps a level head under pressure, is in touch with their ambition, may be a hard worker but benefits from working smarter the most, practices accountability, learns that their standards are the only ones that matter, is responsible, defines their own sense of maturity, empowers themselves through skepticism, boundaries, reworking their relationship with authority figures, and learning to express their emotions, learns how to balance asking for help and when to step up to help others, embraces their softer side, self-discipline is a great resource, and they gain useful wisdom.

Aquarius/Uranus: Their individuality shines and they express it and defend it bravely, is empowered through independence, rebellion, acceptance, and intellect, won't hide their knowledge or intelligence, charisma, originality, and being innovative are their strengths, may enjoy a mental challenge, knows when to follow and when to lead, may find being an outsider or being perceived as "strange" as empowering, learns how to embrace change and the unknown, taps into their own chaos, finds beauty in differences, and has a lot to contribute to their friends, community, family, or society, they make an impact or leave a mark with those in their life - even strangers or acquaintances.

Pisces/Neptune: Lives through intuition and emotion in a fulfilling and comfortable way, gets in touch with their spiritual side or spiritual meaning, is a talented healer, learns forgiveness and sacrifice on many levels, empathy, gentleness, and kindness are their strengths, embraces the fluidity of themselves and of life, knows how to find inner and outer clarity, may become a spiritual or emotional teacher or guide, finds inspiration and motivation in their fantasies and escapism, is empowered through change, giving and receiving love openly, and developing emotional insight or wisdom.

[fishnapple]

What can bring true satisfaction to your heart?

Let's end this year by hearing what your heart yearns for. And also trying out my new AAB (Animal Advisory Board) set for divination ✨️

This is a general reading meant for multiple people. Take only what resonates and leave out the rest.

Your feedback is much appreciated. If you find the reading resonated with you, leave a comment, I’d love to know 🎐

About me | Masterpost Book a reading with me - KO-FI (→ personal reading)

ORANGE

On the surface level, what feels like satisfaction for you is recognition for your hard work. You feel a sense of lack when it comes to your material possessions, that that sense of lack can affect your sense of self greatly. You could feel that the more you have, the more confident and safe you are, you find safety in a familiar physical world. Working, earning money, and then being recognised for your effort can elevate your "worth" in this world, or so you believe. And being worthy is the solid proof of existence and meaning. But you will soon find that in chasing success and recognition, you risk burning out and losing your vitality, your jest for life. Being too focused on a goal, a task can narrow your perspective and make you feel like life is just a race, a competition. You want to show your best, to be known as the most hard working person, the one who contributes the most, the one who can take on any tasks without fear, the one who shines the brightest. Life seems like a stage where you have to perform constantly, even when you're alone, your actions are being observed by an invisible audience.

But your inner self disagrees with that approach, and it will demand a change from you. You can't keep running in "the race" forever because there's simply no race for you to run, just a life for you to be in and to live. A part of you is sleeping, latent inspirations are trapped inside without the means to be expressed. It's quite contradictory, on the outside, you look so busy and active, always doing something, but on the inside, the energy is stagnant and inactive. This feeling will continue to pile up until you can't take it anymore and want to burst out, to take off. The feeling of true freedom, of flying for the first time will open up a floodgate inside you, you will begin to nurture a different perspective, you will want to slow down your run and look around, suddenly you will find so many interesting things around you that you haven't noticed before.

By being free, you will also have a different view on relationships. Your heart yearns for freedom, freedom to be yourself, and freedom to love. You will want to bond deeply with people, to seek comfort in the emotional sense, not in the physical sense anymore. You seek true understanding, of yourself, of the other person and the world you live in. Deep connections can bring the most satisfaction, something that you might have been oblivious to up until now. You won't seek recognition from the general crowd anymore, you will seek the transparency of being seen completely by a loved one.

WHITE

For this group, I see a lot of images about predators attacking prey. This can mean that you are having contradictory thoughts and feelings inside yourself, like an inner critic, always watching and judging your every wish and action. This creates lots of unnecessary fears in you, you're held prisoner by your own mind. You desire many different things, or said in a different way, many different things can bring you satisfaction, but they can be at odds with each other. The solution for you is to go ahead and do them anyway, no matter how much your mind protest or try to "talk" you out of it, which sometimes can be in a really aggressive way. Your mind can create visions of people ridicule or criticise you for your decisions. What you need to do is triumph over those visions, shoo them away, and just do what you instinctively feel drawn to do and then see for yourself, with you own eyes, the actual outcome, only then will you have solid "proof" to chase away those intrusive thoughts in your mind. For you, getting over your myriad fears will be your biggest achievement and satisfaction. For every victory over your fear, no matter how small, you deserve to get a pat on your back. Be gentle with yourself, but firm enough to give yourself a chance to grow.

About your many desires, one is about receiving and giving love. You might just focus on romance and dating right now, without much serious thought about a long-term commitment and building a family with someone. But in the future, when you allow yourself to grow more and gain new perspectives, the thought of commitment will naturally arise in you. You won't just desire love and affection alone, you also desire a place to call home, a place where someone will be there to welcome you. You will want to nurture someone, and be nurtured back, work for the connection, and see your effort grow into a deep bond. You're working hard right now, but mostly to build your own foundation, later in life, you will want to work hard to build that foundation with another person. Your heart will flourish in the nurturing environment of a steady relationship.

For now, just focus your energy on getting to know yourself, every nook and cranny. Come to your rescue when your mind begins to nag, especially when you want to rest and contemplate hidden things behind the veil of mundane life. Use your resting time to let your mind explore foreign subjects, coax it gently when it tries to resist learning new things. The more you explore, the more your mind will soar, the more your heart will feel tranquil and happy.

PINK

Does the question of whether the person you're attracted to romantically can also be your friend ever cross your mind? Or the question of whether that person can truly connect with you on a mental level? I see the people who chose this group are ardent lovers. The kind that would focus their all on a connection, passionate and gripping. You might be the person who loves falling in love, the feeling of romance and relationships brings you great joy. But the pitfall here is that you tend to idealise the other person and the connection to the point of overlooking some glaring incompatibilities. On a surface level, a person might seem fun and physically ideal to be your partner, but let some time pass and look closer, you will find that you don't really connect on a more deeper level. A telling sign would be that conversations are lacklustre, there's an uncomfortable silence between you, the subjects of the conversation are superficial. In the long run, this can create dissatisfaction in the relationship.

What you might not realise is that a deep bond, especially forged over many conversations, is essential to your feeling of overall happiness about life. Friendship matters, even love should be built based upon friendship. Having many people who you can call friends is actually more satisfying than having many lovers, friends who come from many walks of life, from all around the world. Having a group of close friends who can go on adventures with you, who can nurture you, who can build you up, who can make your mind buzzing, who can be your family, that's what brings true satisfaction to your heart.

Can you see the stag nipping at a tree while the peacock is facing the opposite direction? I think right now, the way you express yourself can be like a form of reaction to the specific person whom you're interacting with, rather than just communicating who you are in general. In conversations, you might try to act more cool, showing the best of yourself in order to build a favourable image, which is what all of us do to some degrees, consciously or not. But this shape-shifting energy can be detrimental to really connect with the other person. Instead of letting the other person provide you with 'nutrition' for your mind and heart, you're busy impressing them. This can happen in all your interactions, whether with strangers, acquaintances, friends, family, lovers. You should take a more relaxed approach, allowing the words to seep into you leisurely, building friendship as if growing a tree, then you will have a flourished heart.

GREEN

The word 'Success' has a lot of meanings to you, and all meanings have weight that defines your life. For you, being successful doesn't have to be about earning lots of money of being famous, though that is a part of the 'Success' that you pursue, it's not all. You want to leave behind your legacies, the proof that you exist, the proof that you have lived hard and well, that your life has meaning.

Throughout your life, you will encounter various stumbling blocks that require you to reinvent yourself, like ascending a stairway, each step bring your higher, closer to your ideals. You're willing to change yourself, to bring about a complete overhaul, allow yourself to play various roles, don many masks, life is a big stage and you're a magician, a jester or a seller, who always has something to dazzle and sell to the audience. This 'performance' is not fake or disingenuous at all, it's what you're born to do, to achieve prestige and finally reach the top of the stairway.

You have a core that's very malleable and agile, constantly moving, though it can help you be flexible and move through situations with ease, it can create an inner confusion. You feel like you have to be at all places, here and there, never settle down, forever swimming, nothing can hold you down and keep you in one place for long. This fuels your desire to find an anchor in the physical world. To know what you've done, what you've achieved, where you need to go. You need external structure and stability so that your internal spirit can swim freely. You can move a lot, but you need to feel a sense of home wherever you're. And that's not easy to achieve. But you have the knack to connect instantly with people, you can make the most distant stranger your friend in no time. The more people surround you, the safer you feel. Community and sense of camaraderie soothe you nomad heart. As long as you have people around you, everywhere can be your home.

And in that hope will you work your magic, working tirelessly to build your foundation. Even though your spirit is a nomad, constantly moving, you have trouble letting go of things and people, gradually, the stuff you pack with you gets more and more heavy, slowing you down. The challenge for you is to learn when to let go, to travel light. What your heart truly wants is the feeling of ascending the ladder, of knowing that you've done something meaningful and left a mark, of giving away the fruits of your labour, not the feeling of possessing and holding on to as many things as possible.

[thesecondhandwoman]

HEXED HEART

Ambessa x f!reader

Synopsis: Recently, Piltover has fallen weak ever since the hexcore stopped working, and the scientists who may have been able to fix it (Heimerdinger, Jayce, Viktor) had disappeared, leaving Ambessa frustrated. However, when she heard news of you, an intelligent scientist, possibly having the skills to fix it, she immediately took action. Even if it meant using a hint of sweet manipulation.

The remnants of Piltover smoldered under the weight of its own hubris. The once-bustling City of Progress was a shadow of itself, its streets quieter, its golden spires tarnished. The Hexcore had faltered, leaving the city vulnerable, its famed defenses useless.

In her laboratory perched high above the city, you worked tirelessly. The other brilliant minds—Heimerdinger, Jayce, Viktor—had all disappeared, leaving you to hold the fort. You were the last hope of Piltover, though the burden had grown suffocating. Every attempt to stabilize the Hexcore had failed. You stared at the latest iteration of your work, frustration and exhaustion gnawing at your edges.

The heavy thud of boots startled you from your thoughts. You turned to see soldiers, clad in Noxian red and black, entering your lab. At their helm was her. Ambessa Medarda, the warlord who cast a shadow wherever she walked. She was as commanding as the stories claimed—tall, statuesque, and radiating an aura of power that seemed to fill every inch of your lab.

She appraised you with sharp, calculating eyes, a faint smirk tugging at her lips.

“I’ve been watching you,” she said, her voice as smooth as silk but edged with steel. “Piltover’s lone genius. Working herself into the ground to save this broken city.”

You squared your shoulders, attempting to summon the confidence that exhaustion had stripped away. “If you’ve come to ridicule me, I assure you, I don’t have the time.”

“Oh, I didn’t come to mock you,” she said, stepping closer. Her soldiers fanned out, blocking any potential escape routes. “I came because Piltover’s failures can serve Noxus. You can serve Noxus.”

Your blood chilled. “I don’t serve anyone.”

Ambessa chuckled, low and amused. “Not yet.” She closed the distance between you in a few strides, her imposing figure towering over yours. “But you will.”

Before you could retort, she reached out, her gloved hand brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. The touch was startlingly gentle, disarming. You stiffened, but Ambessa merely tilted her head, her gaze softening, her smile turning warmer.

“You’re exhausted,” she murmured, her tone shifting to something softer, almost tender. “This city doesn’t deserve you. They’ve wrung you dry, haven’t they? And still, no thanks. No progress.”

Her words hit a nerve, and she saw it in the flicker of your expression.

“I—” you began, but her fingers against your jaw silenced you.

“You deserve better,” she said, her voice a near whisper now. Her thumb traced the line of your jaw, her touch featherlight. “A mind like yours shouldn’t be wasted on people who only know how to take. I can offer you more, darling. Resources. Freedom. Respect.”

You swallowed hard, the weight of her gaze pinning you in place. It was intoxicating, the way she looked at you—not with disdain or pity, but with something that felt dangerously like admiration.

“You just want to use me,” you said, though the words came out weaker than intended.

Ambessa smiled, a sly curve of her lips. “Of course, I do. But I’ll give you what Piltover never could. I’ll make you feel like the treasure you are.”

Her hand slid from your jaw to your neck, her thumb brushing over your pulse. You were hyper-aware of her closeness, the warmth radiating from her as she leaned in. Her lips grazed the corner of your mouth, a ghost of a kiss, before trailing along your cheek to your ear.

“Do you feel it?” she murmured, her breath warm against your skin. “The power we could wield together?”

You shivered despite yourself, torn between resistance and the allure of her promises. She was weaving a net around you, each touch, each word drawing you tighter.

Her hand slid down to your shoulder, her fingers kneading gently, soothing the tension that had built from days—no, weeks—of relentless pressure. You hated how easily she read you, how her touch seemed to draw out the ache you’d buried beneath sheer determination.

“I don’t… I can’t just abandon Piltover,” you stammered, though the conviction in your voice wavered.

Ambessa chuckled, a rich, velvety sound that sent a shiver down your spine. She pulled back just enough to look into your eyes, her expression equal parts understanding and predatory.

“Who said anything about abandoning them?” she cooed, tracing her fingers along the edge of your collarbone. “Think of it as… redirecting your efforts. Piltover has taken everything from you. Why not take something back?”

Her lips ghosted over your temple, and you felt a strange, heady mix of indignation and desire. Every instinct screamed to resist, to fight back against her intoxicating manipulation. But her words had rooted themselves in your mind, growing like thorns around your resolve.

She pressed closer, her presence overwhelming as her other hand cupped your cheek. Her thumb brushed over your skin with a tenderness that contradicted the raw power she emanated.

“I see the brilliance in you,” she murmured. “The kind of brilliance that could reshape the world. But brilliance needs the right soil to grow, and Piltover has done nothing but starve you.”

Her lips found your jawline, a soft, lingering kiss that left your heart pounding. You hated how your breath hitched, how her words sank deeper, wrapping themselves around your doubts and frustrations like a vice.

“I could give you everything,” she whispered, her voice dripping with promise. “Imagine a lab equipped with anything you could dream of. Resources, soldiers to protect you, and the freedom to create without petty councils and politics dragging you down.”

You hesitated, your mind a whirlwind. “And what would you demand in return?”

Ambessa leaned back just enough to meet your gaze, her smirk sharp but her eyes still softened with that feigned tenderness. “Only your cooperation. Your brilliance, dedicated to something greater than this dying city.” Her hand slid down your arm, fingers curling gently around your wrist. “And, of course, you—with all your fire and passion. A partner. An ally.”

Her lips found your wrist, pressing a kiss to the delicate skin there. It was such an intimate gesture that it left you reeling.

“You’re lying,” you whispered, though your voice lacked conviction.

Ambessa smiled again, her confidence unshaken. “I never lie, darling. I may manipulate, I may seduce, but I always tell the truth.” She lifted your hand to her lips, brushing another kiss over your knuckles. “You’ll see. The only chains you’ll wear with me are the ones you choose.”

You trembled, torn between the iron will you’d cultivated in solitude and the dangerous allure of her promises. Her every touch, every word, was carefully calculated, but there was a kernel of sincerity in her eyes that was impossible to ignore.

And then, her tone shifted, low and husky, her lips brushing against your ear. “Or you can stay here,” she murmured, her voice laced with a mockery so subtle it felt like silk slipping over a blade. “Alone. Frustrated. Watching this city crumble around you while you waste away in obscurity.”

The weight of her words settled over you like a storm cloud. The enormity of your failure, the futility of your work, pressed down harder than ever.

Ambessa saw the flicker of doubt in your eyes and leaned in, her lips brushing over your cheek again, her hands sliding to your waist. “Don’t think of it as surrender,” she whispered. “Think of it as liberation.”

Her lips finally found yours, soft and coaxing, her hands firm yet tender as they held you in place. For a moment, the world around you faded, leaving only the intoxicating warmth of her touch, the relentless pull of her presence.

When she finally pulled back, her smirk returned, triumphant but still laced with that maddening, feigned care.

“Take your time,” she said, stepping away as if to give you the illusion of choice. “But know this—I won’t wait forever. And neither will Piltover.”

She turned, her soldiers falling into step behind her, and the door shut with an ominous finality, leaving you alone in the silence of your lab.

Your knees buckled as you leaned against the nearest table, your mind spinning. You hated her, hated how easily she unraveled you. But you couldn’t deny the truth in her words.

And deep down, you wondered if the world Ambessa promised might be worth the price of your pride.

The silence of your lab was suffocating in the wake of her departure. You stood there, still trembling, your hand resting against the edge of your desk as if it might hold you together. You could still feel her touch, lingering like a brand on your skin, a reminder of the impossible decision she had presented.

Stay… or go?

You hadn’t realized how much you had needed an escape, how desperately you had longed for someone to see you beyond your failures. Ambessa had touched that part of you with ruthless precision. She had peeled away your pride, exposed the vulnerability that you’d spent so long burying beneath equations and inventions.

And now, you stood at the precipice of something you had once sworn to avoid.

The thought of continuing alone in Piltover, watching everything you had worked for crumble—your research, your hopes—seemed unbearable. The weight of it all crashed down on you like a ton of stone. Ambessa’s words, laced with promises of power, resources, and recognition, were beginning to sound like the only way out.

You closed your eyes, feeling your resolve slip through your fingers like sand.

Her touch had been gentle. Too gentle, and that had terrified you. She was a master at breaking down walls, and the way she had looked at you, with a mixture of admiration and something darker, had set your pulse racing. You had wanted her to touch you.

No, you needed her to touch you.

No more endless days in solitude. No more futile attempts at saving a city that didn’t care.

With a shaky breath, you made your decision.

Later that night, you stood before the door to Ambessa’s private quarters, your hands clammy, heart hammering. You’d walked here with purpose, though the journey had felt like an eternity. Every step had only brought you closer to the inevitable—an alliance forged in the heat of desperation. You knocked once, and the door opened before you could even pull your hand back.

Ambessa stood there, her expression unreadable as her eyes traveled over you.

“You’ve come.” Her voice was steady, but there was a gleam in her eyes that hinted at the satisfaction of a predator about to claim its prize.

You swallowed hard, the weight of the moment pressing down on you, but you refused to let it show. “I’m here,” you said, your voice firmer than you felt, “because I don’t want to be alone anymore.”

Ambessa stepped aside, her lips curling into a smile. “I knew you would come around.”

As you entered, the lavish, dimly lit room seemed almost too luxurious for someone like you, but there was something intoxicating about it. The rich silks, the scent of something sweet and foreign in the air—everything spoke of power and control, the very things you had been so desperate to grasp.

Ambessa closed the door behind you with a soft click, and then she turned to face you, her eyes now intense with anticipation. “Tell me, darling… what is it you truly desire?” she asked, her voice low and coaxing.

You hesitated, but only for a second. Then the truth spilled from your lips. “I want to be… seen.”

Ambessa stepped toward you, a predatory smile playing on her lips. “Oh, I see you,” she purred. “I see you more clearly than anyone ever has.” She reached out, her fingers grazing your cheek with deliberate slowness, as though savoring the moment. “And now, I’ll make sure you’re never unseen again.”

She cupped your face gently, tilting your chin upward, and her gaze softened, as though she were savoring the power of the moment. “You were always meant for something greater than this city. But you needed a catalyst… someone to help you realize your true potential.”

Her touch was almost tender, but the undercurrent of control never left. She leaned in, her lips brushing your forehead with a softness that contrasted the fire in her eyes.

“I can give you everything,” she whispered, her voice filled with honeyed persuasion.

A heat bloomed in your chest, rising to your cheeks, but it wasn’t embarrassment—it was the burning spark of surrender. Every part of you that had been torn between resistance and the seductive pull of her power now bent toward the inevitable.

You nodded, the words tumbling out in a quiet confession, “I’ll help...”

Ambessa’s lips curled into a triumphant, almost possessive smile. “Good.” She leaned in, her mouth capturing yours in a kiss that was both commanding and consuming. It was gentle at first, a slow burn that deepened with every press of her lips, every brush of her tongue. She held you with an intensity that made your knees weak, her hands roaming with practiced care, tracing your sides, your back, pulling you closer until you could feel the heat of her body against yours.

When she pulled back, breathless but satisfied, her fingers trailed down your spine, sending shivers of anticipation through you. “You belong to me now,” she said softly, her voice wrapped in a possessive sweetness. “And I’ll make sure you never regret it.”

You trembled, feeling the weight of her words settle over you, and for the first time in a long while, you realized you didn’t mind. You were hers. Completely.

In her arms, under her gaze, you were no longer the scientist who had failed. You were a tool—her tool—ready to be shaped and molded into something greater, something powerful. You had agreed, out of weakness, yes—but in that weakness, you had found something that felt like freedom.

And as Ambessa’s lips met your skin once more, tracing the delicate curve of your jaw, you wondered if this, this was what it meant to truly be seen.

[galene-gothic]

𝖡𝖾𝗒𝗈𝗇𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖻𝗈𝗎𝗇𝖽𝗌 𝗈𝖿 𝗉𝗋𝖾𝗍𝗍𝗒 𝗉𝗋𝗂𝗏𝗂𝗅𝖾𝗀𝖾 - 𝖾𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗅𝗂𝗍𝗒

୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊ I hope this reading found you in good health, every reblog is appreciated and thank you for everything :) ˖♡ ˎˊ˗ ꒰ 🐇 ꒱

ˏˋ༻ʚ♡︎ɞ༺ˎˊ˗             PAID SERVICES

“plain beauty quivers in the presence of

charisma for it senses a stronger opponent“

Today we'll take a look at:

- the beauty of being you that solely belongs to you

- how should you go about enhancing your ethereality?

⊹ ! ೀ Pile 1 ꒱

꒰ The beauty of being you that solely belongs to you ꒱

The beauty of being you comes from the fact that you have come to value reciprocity. However, despite how much you value reciprocity, at this point you’ve turned more stingy with your time, energy, presence and emotions because you understand that not everyone deserves you in certain ways. You’ve become someone who doesn’t reciprocate much or give anything away until you’ve vetted the other person out properly. It’s funny because you have a very generous spirit and you might not mind buying things for others or giving sweets to little children along the way if you happen to meet any. You have been manipulated in the past and have had felt powerless and it initially led to a lot of confusion, fear and mental health issues. You might have been deluded about certain things and situations but it led to you seeing and facing many different sides of yourself. Initially, it was not enjoyable but this deep dive within your psyche has led to you having a knowledge of yourself including what’s valuable to you. You’ve started putting yourself first no matter what and prioritise self care strongly. You’ve become someone who doesn’t care much about closures as long as the other person’s actions to show for it. You have something very raw about you, sometimes your emotions come out very strongly which is a weak point but it only further adds to your charm because the rawness you possess is striking. However, this is something people usually don’t see coming. You have an image of someone who’s more submissive honestly. People often believe that you’d not have it in you to stand up for yourself which seems to be kind of true, when someone tells you something hurtful, you just sit there and process it without much reaction at all. Even if you do react, you haven’t fully grasped what was told to you so you still react pretty calmly. You are self critical and seem to have a slight bit of an inferiority complex so people think that you’d lack boundaries and you seem to be really theatrical, and overdo it at times in terms of being friendly, laughing, enjoying and expressing yourself because you still have a lot of pride and don’t like to show weakness which gives you a very interesting image, almost like a manic pixie dream girl/boy but with more dimension to your character and your moments of rawness and vulnerability only further add onto it. You seem to always value exciting times and freedom, and I’m not sure if you realise or not but there’s a slight fleeting charm to you due to these qualities. You’re a realistic person and take actions with rationality. You see past illusions, one way to tell that this is true is that you can see the illusions of the past as illusions and accept it. You’ve become someone very demanding in terms of romance and that’s good. You choose from your heart but you don’t forget to rationalise things and reason properly. You don’t give into fantasies and possibilities anymore. You think that if something is worth it, it’s going to be more than fantasy and possibility driven. You’re hopeful about the future and are very inspiring because you are gentle, friendly but still independent and kind of distant. There’s an elusive charm to you as in despite you overdoing it by being too friendly at times, you don’t give yourself away easily and despite your self critical nature, you don’t let it have a hold on you to the point you don’t see the reality of situations and you continue being hopeful.

You also sometimes end up showing really raw emotions but it still doesn’t change how gentle of a nature you possess. There’s something serene about you. You’re pleasing to the senses in more ways than one because you have this natural ability to see and appreciate others’ core essence and their quirks, qualities that they may have been made fun of or excluded for. You treat people who are disabled with a lot of normality too. Supposing, your classmate was a special child, you could have talked to them normally and joked around with them, and never mentioned anything about the way they were. There was once a point when you would have remained loving and empathetic no matter what but you mostly extend that to yourself these days. Emotionally, despite having been hurt and betrayed, and having to heal from it. You have this purity to you that ends up touching the inner child of others. You know how to make people feel that flutter in their stomach and heart, you naturally gain other people’s affection because you show a caring attitude. There’s just this childlike crush that others seem to develop for you. You also have a great capacity to involve yourself deeply and emotionally into your emotions for others, in others emotions and in their lives but you don’t feel like it anymore. You understand that unless there’s a commitment, there’s no need for you to do that. You have incredibly high standards and expectations for yourself, and others. It affects your emotions when you end up giving too much of your energy to someone because at this point, you know that not everyone deserves it. For some of you, there was once a point when you used to get angry at the one you were involved with because there was a lot of love present and you wanted the connection to go well and you wanted to be understood so bad but it was taken the wrong way so you ended up blaming yourself for it for a while (days, weeks, months) but you eventually realised that it was not your fault. Why it adds to your beauty is that they’ll never find love like you again. I’m pretty sure they’re still just trying to fill the void. Enough about them, your soul is one that others are going to heavily rely on in this lifetime, you won’t mind things being one sided in your early life in terms of effort but interestingly, it’s going to be situations where the other party seems to lack gratitude and appreciation for you and all that you offer which is funny because they met an almost angel-like version of you and you added so much contentment to them but they have this weird belief that that contentment is innate and that you’re the one who should be grateful to them and for them, and that’s going to lead to regrets and contemplation for you because you won’t know how to abandon someone you gave so much too but after you do let go, they’ll end up missing you more and more. You’ll pretty much haunt them for the rest of their lives. You have been a missed opportunity, a ‘what if’ in many people’s lives and that is beautiful in some ways because your energy is so beautiful, it is remembered even long after you’re gone but you deserve so much more than to be cherished as a memory and always will, and have the awareness of that. I keep on hearing that song ‘because i miss you’ by Jung Yong Hwa and I haven’t listened to it since like 2022.

꒰ How should you go about enhancing your ethereality? ꒱

Your ethereality is in the innocence and kindness that you can spread out into the world. You’re not innocent as in you’re a child but you are innocent in a way where it is so deeply ingrained in you, you wouldn’t be able to get rid of it even if you really wanted to. This is why you crave love that is very pure and almost divine in nature, not just in terms of romance but in every relationship. Don’t look at this difference that you have from the rest of the world as a weakness but instead make it your strength, turn it into your brand. You have this ability to understand people and see parts of them that they themselves cannot see which has led to a lot of disappointment for you in the past because, while they had the potential, the potential was nothing but an illusion unless they would have been able to turn it into a reality. It’s not a bad thing that you look at life in a very psyche oriented manner but use it selectively, when people do want to get better, you can show them their path through this ability of yours. You’re a very deep and intense person, it might be so bad that you might think that no one would be able to understand you or meet you at that level. However, your capacity for depth is so beautiful, you do not even need to see other people’s depth like you may have previously, you just need to explore your own. You’re a total muse just because you are who you are. Make every day of your life a testament of that, be the art, be the artist. Your kindness mixed with your capacity for depth can lead you to spreading love and tangible service to others that will help you understand yourself further, and go to show your own beauty and ethereality, one that actually puts good out into the world and makes a difference. You should set a goal that you want to touch at least a certain number of people’s lives deeply i.e. the ones who are unfortunate in some way and you don’t share any personal connection or desire for that with them. You simply just want to enhance the quality of their lives because you want to do so. We live in a world where physical beauty standards are high but somehow, women are still able to match up to them so there are millions of gorgeous women physically but kindness is a trait that is needed but in lack due to the superficiality of the world. So why don’t you make use of it and become the kindest person you can be for yourself and others? There’s this saying that goes “if you give a man a fish, he will have a meal for that day but if you teach a man how to fish, he will have a meal for the rest of his life.” Try to teach those who are willing to learn and even if they are not willing to, don’t be afraid to drop a few wise and helpful words here, and there for you never know how they’ll be used going forward. For example, you give one friend a few wise words because you think that that could help them, even if they do not learn from it right away.

They might in the future or if they don’t, someone else around you could end up enhancing their life by taking your word. “Even if you’re happy, don’t forget the sorrows of those around you.” Always look out for those less fortunate than you, put yourself first but never be too self occupied and centered to be blind to the suffering of others. Be stubborn minded and keep yourself fixed on wanting to lead a life of integrity, dignity, peace and righteousness even if you’re labeled as selfish, cruel or cold. Have faith in your silent power and don’t try to show it to anyone. When they go low, you go no contact forever. Share your knowledge but don’t give all of your thoughts away for free, there are people who will build a whole new life for themselves, taking the advice that you gave them and act like they’re all that as if they’re not living off your philosophies. Think quietly and live by certain things quietly without expressing them. Be private and stingy with your time, energy, words and presence. Walk and move slowly, and sensually. Also, don’t hesitate to but people off early on or after you receive the first red flag. Don’t be afraid of playing players, just remember not to get attached. I don’t think that most of you have it in you to play games so I think you should just not engage with players at all. Besides the best way to play a player is to not engage in his game at all. Keep your options open but don’t be available to any of them until you’re actively pursued and treated well, and have them try to commit to you. You’re allowed to paint yourself qs a fantasy by tailoring yourself to look, be, smell and feel a certain way. Spend time by yourself and make sure you have certain aspects of you and your life that are solely reserved for you. Always have gratitude for what you have, who you have and who you are but remain self focused and keep most of your emotions to yourself. Learn how to deal with them properly by yourself while still having a healthy approach and perception of relationships. Don’t mind cutting people off and being seen as someone who looks at relationships differently, and has different expectations and standards. You’re extremely powerful, you should harness that to the fullest by becoming someone who sets intentions and actively takes actions in order to become who you are and get what you want. Learn independence and try not to base your happiness upon community, belonging or love of any sort. Live passionately, love intensely, grow intensely, work intensely and go after achieving the recognition that you desire by enhancing certain skills and also yourself as a person. Work hard for social recognition by not craving it but building yourself to the point where even if you didn’t want it, it would naturally find you. Thank you for reading. Much love and take care.

⊹ ! ೀ Pile 2 ꒱

꒰ The beauty of being you that solely belongs to you ꒱

The beauty of being you comes from the contrast between your ruthless mind, loving heart and kind spirit. You’re someone who holds a lot of self respect and is passionate, also a bit blunt in words and actions. You tend to be so focused on your goals and life that you might come off kind of selfish. I’m not getting it being intentional on your part. You’re someone who values passion but not to the point you give up on rationality. You seem to be well recognised to some extent, in some way. You’ve become someone stingy who doesn’t share themself and what they’ve got that easily. You value stability and there’s this natural knowledge that you possess that the only way you’ll be able to maintain a sense of stability within yourself is by not letting anyone have that sort of power over you. You’re someone a bit standoffish in your energy and mindset but there’s also this calm awareness that you’re not better than anyone, and that you don’t need to be because you’re the best in your own way and the worst in your own way. You’re usually controlled and try to consciously maintain this sense of control but sometimes, you can get cruel, angry, cold and very frightening. Despite this standoffishness, when you interact with others, you’re nice and seem to be passionate, and fun so they are like “maybe I overestimated this person, maybe they’re not all that intimidating after all” but the moment they get this cold and harsh side of you, they realise that they underestimated you and that you can be very scary. In terms of emotions, you seem controlled, focused on building your finances, emotional well being, loving and all but you don’t get obsessive over anything. While, you do have your angry moments, usually you’re smart enough to not react to anything. Even if you hurt, by this point, you’ve learned that if someone wants to leave, they should be allowed to. You’re highly capable of love and very loving. This quality of yours has caused you to receive the shorter end of the stick in the past because people saw that you had a loving heart and they took the love, and decided to leave when convenient without any regard for your emotions, possibly with disrespect or nonchalance but your ability to act like they never even existed in your world is crazy. You’re someone who tries to not even think about these situations and people because you’re wise enough to know that not everything and everyone deserves your energy and reactions. You have a very generous soul and are very passionate, lively and genuinely compassionate. Despite all the instability, shame, hurt and betrayal that you’ve had to deal with, you’ve not lost your true spirit, you’ve become stingier with certain aspects of yourself and what you have to offer but when you see someone in need, you’re willing to try and help. You have managed to build your stability back again by possibly acting like you could never recover or feeling like such, there were those who purposely tried to knock you down to a peg for their own sick and selfish satisfaction, and though they may not admit it, they’re shocked and deeply admire the way you’ve managed to grow out of and from such situations.

You hold yourself back from people, situations and thoughts that don’t serve you. What has led you to this point seems to be how helpless, trapped and ruined you were, and felt. You were fearful and unaware of what to expect or what was going on around you and in your life. You dealt with major life events that were tragic, one after another at that. You’ve dealt with feeling vulnerable and unwanted by a string of people, you’ve had your affection and tenderness misused. You’ve honestly had your innocence used to manipulate you at some point. You could have been obsessed with someone or certain people who made you feel rejected, and you ended up falling into a loop of comparison and envy but the more time that passed by, the more you realised how unfair you were being to yourself. You decided to win in the end no matter what. You decided that you would gain out of every situation that had you down in the dumps and you succeeded in doing so. You learned lessons but also started setting goals and working towards them with consistency and willpower. You decided to take control over yourself and your life again, and the better you got, the more you realised that you had always been powerful, that you still are powerful, even if others tried to make you forget so or didn’t see it. You have become a fairly defensive person due to that, you aren’t paranoid and defensive but if someone tries to make you step out of your power or try to show you down in any way, you decide to stand up for yourself even if it’s just within yourself. You are firm and persistent about your goals, and are grateful about all that you are and have. You are content and value being present in the moment. You understand that there’s nothing more precious than the here and now. You don’t try to shed your light upon anyone anymore, you instead try to keep it hidden or at least inaccessible so that no one can feed off of it just to act like the warmth and light belongs to them or radiating off of them 💀. You decided to leave behind people, situations, habits, mindsets and anything that made you unhappy. You’re a very intense person who loves obsessively and you’ve realised that not everyone deserves it. You’re hot and cold, sweet, sour and spicy, and very unpredictable, that’s what makes you so beautiful. Like, you can be cruel but you’re usually very reasonable and able to maintain your calm, you are so loving and know how to have fun with others to the point they start underestimating you but you know how to assert a cold and cruel aspect of yourself if you’re truly pushed to it, and despite your reasonable and practical nature, you’re very intense in terms of connection but when you’re done, it’s like things never even happened, like you never even knew each and people don’t know, they don’t know what they’ll get from you, no one knows what they’ll get from you. Also, the fact that you’ve not let yourself go, that you’re still the kind and compassionate spirit that you once were, that you were never knocked down to a peg and even if you were, you still built yourself back up, regained stability and reconciled with yourself is the beauty that solely belongs to you.

꒰ How should you go about enhancing your ethereality? ꒱

Your ethereality is in your secrecy and inaccessibility. Recently, you’ve been feeling called to gate keep yourself and you genuinely believe that either no one or most people do not deserve you. You should approach life with the knowledge that not everyone has your best interests at heart. Put your healing first and remember those days when you had to cry, felt lonely, were mourning and hurting, make peace with the fact that you never deserved any of it and keep it in your mind that despite having dealt with many obstacles and difficulties in life, you’ve managed to come this far, you can continue doing so no matter what comes your way. Don’t forget how much love you have to offer but understand the value of it by your own. Don’t try to show its value to anyone in order to attract potential lovers or friends, it is of no use, let those who deserve it discover and see it for their own. Trust yourself and put your love in the right places, especially into yourself. You do not need to play the fair game all the time, the world is unfair, the fairest thing you can do is live and let live, don’t try to do anything more or overextend yourself to others. Put yourself first and don’t worry about having a little bit of audacity, just make sure that you have something to back it up, be a kind person who does good things for others in the real world, especially those less fortunate than you or with special ailments. You can’t have an audacity and nothing to back it up, you are not a man. You might be actually but anyway. Be active in the community, treat your family members with love and care, give others love in community settings (by ‘others’ I mean those who deserve it or are less fortunate than you). Be intentional when it comes to emotions, understand where to invest them and where not. Have set standards and don’t change them for anyone under any condition. Don’t mind hurting others if they are trying to hurt you or not being who you need them to be. Don’t even bother saying anything, it’s just a waste of words, just cut them out and move on. Be realistic and live, and love right in the present moment. You won’t be able to help but deal with people passionately but even if you do, don’t think that it’s the end. Keep in mind that everything is temporary and anything could happen at any time. You’re meant to be ride or die and receive a lot of recognition for who you are and what you do in this lifetime. Every action that you decide to take, keep in mind that the only things that can have power over you are things that have your attention. Be selectively attentive and selectively unattentive, and if possible even absent. Absence increases your value. You should not be around those who need you to be all nonchalant and absent in order to be in love with you but make sure to have your own life and live it, not just so you’re not too present but also so that you can make the most out of life. Always accept people and situations for what they are. “Characterise people by their actions and you will never be fooled by their words.” Welcome back, Serena Van Der Woodsen. I’m not sure why I said that either, it just came through. Serena is someone who, if she was in this day and age, one picture, no tags, no reels, no grwms, she’d go viral and everyone would be obsessed with her.

You are probably the same too or you’re at least capable of having that effect of others. “I have to go” that’s what she always says. You’re being told to keep yourself busy enough so that you ‘have go to’ a lot. Your time is precious and it is slipping by every second, don’t waste it and instead make the most out of it by keeping your best interests, desires, passions, growth and stability in mind. You don’t have to feel bad about not giving your time to anyone. Give your time to yourself, that’s the most important. What’s being highlighted here for you is to date and become your own friend, and someone you can look up to before going out there and seeking connections. Keep your time reserved for yourself and your family unless others earn it. Don’t get stuck in the waiting game, EVER. Keep yourself on the move and don’t rest for long periods of time unless you are absolutely certain that it is favourable to do so. Don’t put efforts into the wrong places, don’t act like everyone’s broken heart is for you to fix, let people be, let them deal with their life on their own, you deal with your life on your own too. Don’t forget to extend kindness to those less fortunate than you in practical ways such as donating clothes, food and money or even just simply volunteering in communities made for causes like these but don’t take on other’s emotions and baggage onto yourself, EVER! Don’t engage in competition but don’t feel bad about outshining or hurting others when they have one sided competitions with you and you win. In the past, you’ve had friends who used to accuse you of being selfish and flawed but they couldn’t explain why they thought so because it was just an illusion that their ego battle with you created. Like, you’ve had people call you ugly and selfish out of the blue but talk to you nicely on the other days. Why do you think that is? It’s because they dislike you because they see something great within you. When it comes to connections and emotions, always be grateful and stay content, you’re not lacking anything just because you may not have a partner or friends. Be independent, self sufficient and learn how to enjoy being by yourself. You need to kill the desire for connection while still being open to it and capable of it. Be loving and kind, be practical, down to earth and take care of others but understand that yearning for connections should not rob you of your peace and the joy of the present moment. It’s human and natural to desire connections, I’m not telling you to kill your desire for it as in become all hyper independent but just be content to be by yourself, don’t let your desire for connections ever surpass the contentment and joy of the present moment. Try to be who you are supposed to be i.e. passionate, on the go, ambitious, blissful, loving and someone courageous who will break free from even the tightest of the tightest and the most hurtful, and high quality ropes. Romanticise yourself but do it realistically, romanticise the good things you do and set a goal to do more good things going forward, and become a better and better person by trying your best in the smallest of small and biggest of big ways. To sum it all up - “you do not have to be good, you do not need to walk on your knees for a hundred miles through the desert, repenting. You only have to let the soft animal of your body love what it loves.” Thank you for reading. Much love and take care.

⊹ ! ೀ Pile 3 ꒱

꒰ The beauty of being you that solely belongs to you ꒱

The beauty of being you comes greatly from your onion like layers. You’re someone who is a bit more contemplative, stable, fair, balanced and like you’re managing different aspects of your life well. You could be a libra ascendant or have libra placements that give you this kind of image? Doesn’t have to be. Most of you are usually booked and busy. You’re an ethical person who treats everyone well regardless of their economic background, appearance, etc. It just comes naturally to you. You do not understand how anyone could be repulsed by certain people to the point of treating them differently from others just because they may not look physically appealing or come from a poor family because you are usually unbothered. Other people’s differences and quirks don’t faze you because you’re just naturally in this state of unbotheredness. Even physically, your reactions are usually slow because you’re often thinking about your own duties, progress, time management and what you need to do or you’re busy doing them. For some of you, your authentic self is very unbothered with a natural poker face but due to social conditioning, you may have or could fake reactions and be more expressive facially. However, trust me, the beauty of authenticity is different, you do not need to be all expressive facially, your indifference is a charm on its own. There’s this certain gentleness to the way you move and despite you having a poker face, you still have something slightly soft about it. There’s still this air of class, respect and nonchalance to the vibes you radiate. You often have any baggage that you’ve dealt with on your mind. There was a point when you were betrayed, hurt and possibly humiliated by multiple people either within the same time or in a string at different times. You’ve dealt with the lowest of lows but you decided to get better by moving away from any hurt that your life and other people may have caused you. You have it in your mind that if you have to abandon anything or anyone for the best, you should and will do it. You’ve become someone who is self respectful and low-key competitive. You’re not competitive as in you try to beat others or get better than them but you’re competitive as in, if someone was to come in your way to the success, achievement and recognition that you seem to be pretty certain that you deserve because you’re very hardworking and you actively strive to be so, you wouldn’t mind completely crushing them to move forward. You often have things like self improvement, routine, achievements, skills and discipline on your mind. You value work ethic and actively try to maintain a strong sense of it.

You’re a thought daughter/son though, you seem to think a lot. One of the reasons that you may try to maintain a strong work ethic and routine might be because it stops your thoughts from overpowering you. Emotionally, you’re changing and someone very warm. You also seem to be self assured. You’re someone fairly logical and reasonable. You are someone who is discovering, exploring and developing yourself instead of seeking these things outside of you i.e. in connection with other people, which is very admirable. Changes are not easy but you’re not falling onto someone else to support you through it but are instead planning on your own growth and emotional well-being without relying on others. You can be very stubborn, cold and cutthroat if hurt though. Usually, you just decide to exit situations that push you out of character. You’re aware of what the lowest of lows feel like but despite it, there’s a chance that some of you feel like that’s all you’ve known in life, you’re able to be optimistic and push forward, you’ve always been this way. You have this natural sense of abundance, warmth and vitality within you that pushes you forward through the toughest of days. You also add a lot of warmth into the life of others. You have the entire world within your soul. You look at life and the world as something that you have grown a lot from and has a lot of beauty within it, and you especially look at yourself like that. Even if there are times when you might question yourself, you know that your natural essence and truth is that you’re full of warmth, vitality and abundance, you know that you’re irreplaceable. In the past, you seem to have dealt with miscommunication, aggression and others misunderstanding you almost on purpose. They probably just didn’t have the capacity to or willingness to understand you. You have been the target of other people’s hatred but it is very interesting because you were a down to earth person with morals and values who tried to look after others and take care of them to the best of your abilities. You shared communities with them like school, universities, friendship groups or possibly romantic connection(s) and you understood them on a very deep level. You are devotional and dived deep into them and their psyche to the point you developed fondness, pity and an understanding of themselves that they themselves might not have had. You had a very unconditional way of loving regardless. However, it led to you depleting your natural sense of abundance, resources, emotions, energy and affection. You were down to earth, tried to take care of others and well meaning but after all that happened, you felt like you had been deceived and you barely recognised yourself. When you were younger, you could have sworn that you’d not let anyone make you question your worth but you were in fact questioning your worth at that time.

‘What was I made for?’ by Billie Eilish is coming through as your energy at that time. “Taking a drive, I was ideal. Looked so alive, turns out I’m not real, just something you paid for. What was I made for? Cause I don’t know how to feel but I want to try. I don’t know how to feel but someday I might.” “Think I forgot how to be happy, something I’m not but something I can be, something I wait for, something I’m made for.” You started a new journey with almost a childlike innocence. You made the decision to be happy, to have fun. You changed your thoughts about commitment and learned that feelings are supposed to be given time to develop at their own time without idealisation involved in the mix. At some point, you wondered if you just weren’t enough, if you just weren’t worthy of commitment and devotion because your affection and purity of heart had been abused, and you entered a phase of your childhood self, one when you were in a similar energy with no one to rely on. You felt trapped like you couldn’t escape. You felt victimised and were isolated. There was anger and hatred that you had to deal with. You came out of this energy with the acceptance that you had been manipulated and you thought you were powerless. You realised that you gave too much when you deserved to receive just as much and barely received anything (if you did anything at all). You could have felt like you were used as an unpaid therapist, purse, arm candy, placeholder, replacement for a romantic partner, etc. (depends on who you are and who you had to deal with). You decided to be cruel if need be there, you started putting yourself first and had zero tolerance for bullshit. You knew that you couldn’t afford it. You embraced changes and moved away from whatever didn’t serve you. You did so having compassion for yourself. You deserved so much better and you knew it. You started seeing past matters of heart i.e. your personal connections as something that you had deluded yourself about and accepted them as illusions. You had a strong sense of pride and didn’t let your heart turn cold. You just started reserving it for the well deserved. You were extending your warmth, compassion and love towards yourself at that time. You got to know yourself deeper on a psyche and soul level, it may have been scary but you realistically faced different aspects, truths and sides of yourself. You also started craving something more real, something that’s not idealised but present right in reality. You matured significantly spiritually, emotionally, mentally and even in terms of your actions. The beauty that solely belongs to you is that despite not idealising yourself, your life and your past, you’re at peace with it and in fact, kind of proud of yourself. You’re able to find the beauty in yourself, your life and actively work on yourself, develop and improve yourself. You desire authenticity and realness within yourself, and the world around you, and you’re not willing to settle for anything less. Thank you for reading. Much love and take care.

꒰ How should you go about enhancing your ethereality? ꒱

Your ethereality is in your authenticity that gives you a natural dreaminess. You should work harder in order to be more theatrical and enhance your authentic, and dream like qualities. Much like the previous pile, gate-keep yourself. Don’t try to prove yourself to anyone. Don’t seek approval and praise from anywhere. Be selectively honest about certain flaws and personal struggles that you may have dealt with. You take everything as a duty, a responsibility, including attracting others and connections with others. You take on a lot of burden to please the other person and be something that they may like. Use this quality for better things i.e. enhancing your natural ethereality in a way that suits your personal taste and nobody else’s. One persona that I think you could embody and would fit your personal taste is someone who has fun with others in a way that contrasts your poker face and almost regal aura but is very serious about themself, their personal boundaries and morals, and will not budge, when you are going to have fun with others, they’re inevitably going to start underestimating you, learn how to put them in their place at that time and be serious about not pleasing anyone except yourself. The reason that I suggested this persona for you is because it seems to fit you the best but if you feel like it’s not authentic to you, the point is to simply build more authenticity and not carry the burden of impressing others, building and carrying connections onto yourself. Keep your options open in every connection until you meet someone who is trying to meet you where you need them to meet you, and you consider them to be an equal to you in terms of qualities and won’t feel like you’re settling for them. Don’t forget your values of respect, loyalty, stability and deservingness. Keep in mind that not everyone deserves you so it’s better to be untouchable. Start thinking from a place of “I’m attractive, hardworking, smart, it’s guaranteed for me to attract attention but I need to be careful with the attention that I choose to entertain for not all attention is good attention, and not everyone who I receive attention from deserves my energy.” NEVER tell anyone about your goals, just pop out with the end results. Learn how to not have dreams about people you barely know and don’t try to build passion with undeserving people just for the sake of it. Don’t mind being a fleeting presence in other’s lives but never fall into the trap of being a grounded presence or into the game of waiting unless there’s a solid commitment present. Be true to yourself and make sure to not give your passion to just anyone, don’t try to give everyone the passion that you hold within yourself. Keep it gate-kept until deserving people actually enter your life.

You need to understand the value of what you bring into connections and into the world. You’re sensitive to the emotions of others and are able to heal other’s wounds and inner children. You know how to provide an affection so pure, they’ll always feel like a middle schooler in love, your heart is pure and you have the capacity to get so emotionally involved that them hurting, just the mere thought of it hurts you too. Does everyone deserve you? Of course not. Don’t give this quality out to everyone for free, keep it to yourself. Find ways to enjoy being alone so that you can truly gate-keep yourself. You need to know the value of your presence enough to not be present everywhere. One way to be able to cultivate the quality of selective presence and gatekeeping yourself is by associating your emotions with your self improvement, your dreams, the state of your heart and your goals. You can’t be fair to everyone and you do not need to be, not everyone deserves you that’s the truth of life, not everyone deserves a chance at a connection, don’t be closed off to connections but don’t be too open to them either. Understand that you’re so valuable, you require people who see, appreciate and honour that, they also need to be valuable so you can do the same for them. Understand that you’re so valuable, you require people who see, appreciate and honour that, they also need to be valuable so you can do the same for them. Keep yourself busy and on the go but don’t try to be something that you’re not i.e. don’t try to be like “I’m gatekeeping myself because not everyone deserves me” if you’re a desperate person with no life and allows them in your headspace 24/7. Instead, actually become the person i.e. keep yourself busy and have things that you’re actually doing, not because you’re trying to attract others but because you have one life and there’s so much to try, and do, and you should not waste it. I’m not telling you to be full of yourself and act like someone you’re not but it is important to not be available to everyone in terms of personal connections and even just your presence. All I’m asking from you is high standards, selectivity and boundaries. With those that do deserve you, treat them well, show them appreciation, gratitude and affection. Have a lot of fun with them, go places with them, explore with them and don’t mind diving into the depths of their psyche. Also, don’t gate keep yourself to the point that you have no community. Learn how to not give away your emotions, words and reactions to people within it who do not deserve it because the truth is that you are going to have to and will want to deal with people no matter what. I also recommend joining communities with shared interests and causes. The main point here is to have control over your energy. Be authentic to the point you repulse those who are not authentic to themselves, all while attracting them and also attracting others around you but don’t give yourself away to anyone freely. I’m not sure if you noticed it but when you were open to everyone and giving them unconditionally, they took from you to the point you lost your authenticity and that’s when they left or started acting like they were better than you in some way. You are going to attract those who will try to crush your authenticity, which is why I’m putting an emphasis on gatekeeping of the self. Thank you for reading. Much love and take care.