#that people other than me would actually use???

[no-144444]

the grid: when they admit they love you!

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featuring: Oscar Piastri, Lando Norris, Lewis Hamilton, George Russell, Alex Albon, Franco Colapinto, Logan Sargeant, Daniel Riccardo, Liam Lawson, Charles LeClerc, Carlos Sainz, Arthur LeClerc, Ollie Bearman, Max Verstappen, Paul Aron, Jack Doohan.

this is 18+ so mdni please! smut in some of them!

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Oscar Piastri: fumbling and scared 

You sat at the reception of McLaren, and every single day he was terrified of making a fool of himself. You were the cool, pretty receptionist he’d already gone on 3 dates with, and this Friday he was going to ask you to officially be his girlfriend. The conversation between you two flowed easily when it was just you two, but with other people there… he was less than smooth. Your desk mate, the other receptionist had a knack for gossip, and she was kind of scary, she he tried to steer clear of her when he could. 

“Morning,” you smiled as he walked in the door. 

“Morning,” he smiled back, leaning on your desk. “How are you?”

You started signing him into the building (he ‘lost’ his access card months ago, aka he threw it away and didn’t try to get a new one, just so he could have some reason to talk to you). “I’m good, looking forward to Friday,” you smiled. “You?”

He beamed, grinning like a kid. “Me too.”

“Oscar!” Chris (the guy who has the biggest crush on you ever) clapped a hand on his back, much too hard. “Buddy, I got you a new access-card! Now you can stop bothering the pretty lady here, right?”

“Chris, it’s no bother, I do it every morning-” you tried to diffuse the situation. You didn’t exactly want Osccar to have to deal with Chris, he was such an asshole.  

“Yeah, but it’s one less thing off your plate baby,” he winked at you and Oscar felt something twist in his stomach when you grimaced at the pet name. 

“Don’t call her that,” he told him. “She has a name, it’s Y/n. Use her name.” 

“Dude, I know you wouldn’t get it, but some people date other people,” Chris chuckled like a scumbag. “And me and her are together, so back off.”

Oscar laughed. He actually laughed in your co-workers face. “You’re funny, man.”

Chris laughed along. “I know right.” 

Oscar took the access card from him, leaned over the desk and pressed his lips to yours, like he’d done many times before, and carried on to his meetings. Chris stood there shocked, then walked back to his desk like a wounded puppy. 

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Friday rolled around and you were both sat on his couch watching Cars, when he turned to you. “I’m sorry about Monday,” he admitted. “I know it wasn’t the right thing to do and it probably made it worse but I just-”

“It worked,” you told him. “He hasn’t spoken to me all week, but he has been trying to report you to HR for me, but every time he does I just tell them I didn’t make the claim and then report Chris for being weird. It worked perfectly. He’s such a dick,” you chuckled. 

He watched you as you chuckled, the way your nose scrunched, the flyaway hairs on your forehead framing your face, your soft lips, you gorgeous eyes. “I love you,” he said, softly, but you looked up with wide-eyes all the same. He’d shocked himself too. “OHmygodIamsosorryIknowit’swaytooearlyand-”

You just started laughing, literally falling into his lap. You laughed against his chest and after a moment, he joined you. 

“You’re such a dork,” you smiled brightly as you ran a hand through his hair, then gently caressed his cheek. “I love you too.”

He beamed. “Can I be your boyfriend?” 

You nodded, then kissed him gently. Cars and a pretty girl as his girlfriend? Could his Friday night get any better? 

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Lando Norris: sweet and sincere (for once)

He watched as you walked from the edge of the water into it, splashing around with Mila. It was your first Norris family holiday, and yeah, maybe he had lied to you and told you it would just be you two to trick you into meeting his family only 5 months into your relationship. Maybe you were super mad at him to the point of barely speaking to him unless in the group. But also, maybe Lando was watching the love of his life play with his niece, and maybe he didn’t care that he’ just called you that. 

“Lala!” Mila called, running up to him. “I really like Y/n, can we keep her?” 

You came up behind her, chuckling lightly at her statement. He stared at you for a moment. You were sunkissed (and a little sunburn on your nose), with a bright smile, wet hair and a beautiful blue swimsuit on. You looked ethereal to him. So stunningly gorgeous that he barely knew what to say. 

“Come on kiddo, let’s grab you a snack,” you picked back up your smile and started to walk over to his sister, sitting under another umbrella with all the snacks and drinks in the world. Lando just stared at you when Mila asked. You’d thought that him inviting you on a family holiday would mean something, you must’ve thought wrong. 

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As dinner rolled around, the conversation flowed smoothly as the sun set on the horizon. 

“I’m going to go for a walk on the beach front,” you told the table once meals were finished. They waved you off and off you went. The beautiful sea and stars in the sky caught your attention as your red dress flowed in the wind. It was magical, the warm air, the magnificent views, all of it. The sand beneath your feet was warming your feet and you stopped to look out on the ocean. The soothing, calm waves with the scent of salt made you smile. You’d always loved the beach. 

“You look beautiful,” Lando’s voice made you jump, and you searched for him until you realised he was right beside you. 

“Thank you,” you smiled softly. He wrapped a hand around your waist and turned you to face him. 

He’d been quiet at dinner, too busy trying to think of how to get you to talk to him again, and how he could finally confess his love for you. It was almost overwhelming, the fact that he was in love. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you that it was a family trip,” he sighed, pressing a kiss to your cheek. 

You sighed. “It was pretty shitty…” you reminded him. “But I’ve been having fun with them. You come from good people. Makes sense.”

He smiled brightly at your compliment and pressed his forehead against yours. “Thank you for not leaving once you found out.”

You chuckled. “No problem.”

“I adore you,” he admitted. “More than anything. I fucking love you.”

Your eyes widened and you stood there with your jaw dropped. “Holy shit,” you cursed under your breath and he giggled. 

“You don’t have to say it back or anything, I just wanted to tell you,” he clarified, once he’d stopped laughing. 

You smiled at him, chuckling. “I love you too, Lando, of course I do. Even when you do stupid shit like invite me to a family holiday.” 

He laughed, burying his face in your neck. “I already said ‘I’m sorry’!”

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George Russell: of course…

He smiled as he crossed the finish line, finally  winning another race. 

“Well done George!” his engineer cheered, congratulating him as the garage erupted into celebrations. 

When he was finally out of the car, all interviews were over, and all that was left was to take a few team photos, he was given a moment to seek you out. You’d hugged you at the barricade, but since then he hadn’t seen you. You were busy signing things for fans, little girls who wanted to be ‘just like you’ one day. You smiled and told them they would be, that their dreams of being olympic gymnasts weren’t far-fetched. He smiled, wrapping his arms around you from behind. He was covered in champagne, and you groaned, making the small group of girls laugh. 

“George!” you groaned, pushing him off.

“What?” he smirked, pulling you back in. He pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, as the group of girls moved on with a giggle and a wave. “You look stunning.”

“You’re wet,” you dead-panned. “Congratulations, winner.”

He grinned. “I love you.”

You stared at him for a moment, a gentle disbelief in your eyes. “Really?”

“More than anything.”

“Not just because you're drunk on champagne?”

“Nope, I genuinely love you,” he chuckled. “Sorry,” he shrugged, unapologetic. 

You beamed, then kissed him. “I love you more.”

He shook his head. “Not possible.” 

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Kimi Antonelli: nervous 

He smiled as he opened the door to his apartment and found you on the other side. 

“Ready?” you asked, holding up a very big paint can, and some rollers. He had asked you to help him decorate his new apartment, in Monaco, and you’d thankfully agreed. You, his girlfriend / race engineer, had also just moved to Monaco, next door, in fact.

He let you in and you both began to set up the room, tarping the hardwood floors, taping off the skirting boards, and enjoying the soft music and sunny weather outside the window. You finally opened the paint and got to work. He thought you looked adorable, actually wearing paint-splattered overalls (courtesy of you repainting your entire apartment just a week ago), with a concentrated face. His eyes followed you across the room, meticulously taping every inch of the skirting board, making sure that none of the blue paint would ruin the white. 

“What?” you asked, looking back at him. 

He blushed and shook his head, finally understanding the emotions he felt for you everyday. He loved you. “Nothing.”

You raised an eyebrow and walked over, wrapping your arms around his neck and pressing a kiss to his lips. “You sure?”

He nodded, much too nervous to tell you. He looked away, pretending to be engrossed in messing with your pockets. 

You shrugged, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “Alright,” you let go of him and walked back to the side of the room that you were working on. 

He’d tell you, one day. 

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Lewis Hamilton: smooth about it

He smirked as you walked out from your bedroom, clad in one of his shirts and some tiny sleep-shorts, excited about finally sitting down to watch the movie. It had been a difficult triple-header, and he hadn’t been around. But finally, the season was over, and he could invite you over to start enjoying the Christmas festivities. He loved this. He loved the casual, regular things you two did. He liked the way you cuddled up to him on the couch, he loved the way he knew you’d definitely fall asleep before the film ended, he loved you-

Oh.

He loved you. 

He chuckled and you looked at him confused. 

“You alright?” 

He chuckled. “All good baby,” he nodded, pressing a soft kiss to your cheek. 

“What was that about?” you questioned further, putting the remote down. He ran a hand through your hair, looking at you with all the love in the world. 

“Just love you,” he shrugged as your jaw dropped. He chuckled, watching a million emotions run through you. 

“You’re such a dick!” you playfully hit him on the shoulder. “I wanted to say it first!”

He laughed and pulled you into his arms, holding you closer. “I’m sorry baby.”

You scoffed. “No you’re not.”

He shook his head. “No I’m not.” 

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Alex Albon: oh… yah. 

He sighed as he opened the door to his driver’s room. He was exhausted, another race down, another weekend closer to the end of this. 

“Hey,” you smiled. 

His mood picked up, knowing you were there. His best friend. “Hey,” he smiled, pulling you into a hug. “I didn’t know you were here.”

“Surprise?” you shrugged. “I wanted to come see you.” 

He smiled, pressing his face into your neck inhaling the smell of your perfume, feeling much more at ease than he did before. “I thought you couldn’t make it today.”

“I did, but I won't be able to be in Qatar or Abu Dhabi,” you admitted, breaking the bad news. You could feel him frown. 

“Why not?”

“I'm busy for the next two weeks with work. Then I have the whole couples retreat thing and then-”

“Pardon? Couples retreat?”

“This guy I’m seeing is saying we should go, I think it’s a swinging thing though, I’m not exactly into it. But non refundable tickets and I would like a holiday before I have to deal with our families all Christmas,” you explained with a chuckle.

His world crumpled around him. “You’re seeing someone?”

You nodded. “Yeah, he’s… nice,” you smiled. “Don’t worry, you won’t be meeting him for a while, he’s not even my boyfriend yet-”

You stopped talking because he’d started kissing you. He hadn’t really connected the dots before. He liked how close your families were, he liked being your best friend, he liked being around you all the time. He liked being the person you’d come to about things. He didn’t like other people liking you. He’d been your personal bodyguard throughout your teenage years, and he had shooed off every guy, just because he was protecting you, right? It had nothing to do with the fact that he wanted both of you to wait and be each other's first kiss, like you’d promised when you were 10. 

Oh shit. He was in love with you. 

He pulled back with wide-eyes. “I’m in love with you.”

You broke out into a smile. “I love you too.”

He grinned like a little kid. 

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Franco Colapinto: shy? For once?

He froze as he heard your voice from behind. He hadn’t been home in months, too busy with racing to visit. But Christmas rolled around as it always did, and so did every single family friend. 

“Franco!” his mother’s voice rang out. “Come here!”

He turned and was met with your eyes. He felt himself blushing already.

“Y/n’s here!” she cheered. You offered a small wave and a smile, which he mirrored. 

“It’s good to see you again,” you  smiled. “Happy Holidays.”

He nodded. “You too.”

“How’s F1 going?”

“Good, well. I like it,” he scratched the back of his neck. 

“Well, we’ve all been cheering you on from here,” you smiled. “I can’t wait to see what you do next year.”

He smiled and nervously chuckled. “Thank you.”

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As he watched you over the coming days, enjoying your company, even when he wasn’t the centre of your attention, he found himself becoming even more shy, even more confused, and increasingly love-sick.

He just had to find a way to make himself tell you, easy, right? 

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Logan Sargeant: idek

Y’know how you’re told that when boys like you, they’ll bully you? That’s bullshit, they’re just bullies and their parents make excuses for them. 

You watched as Logan got into your car, getting ready to drive it, and you felt yourself tense up. You’d never gotten along with Logan, growing up in the same racing series, only you pivoted to Indycar and he went to F1. Now he was about to drive your car. You’d never been more nervous. You were the Indycar champion this year, the first women to do it, and you were proud. Giving your car over to Crash-Sargeant wasn’t exactly your choice, but you still had hope that he could drive it. 

You went up to him as he was about to get it, and grabbed his hand, holding him in place. “If you fucking car my car I will cut your balls off Sargeant. Don’t fuck with me, alright?” you whispered, getting close enough to feel his breath on your cheek. He smirked and nodded, ripping his hand out of your grasp.

“I’ll see what I can do.”

He was already hearing wedding bells. Utterly and totally in love with you. 

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Daniel Riccardo: nothing like a big gesture, right?

He dropped you off outside departures, a sad smile on his face. “Don’t want you to go,” he sighed.

You rolled your eyes, then wrapped your arms around his neck, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek as his hands circled your waist. “What’re you doing today?”

“Stuff for Enchanté,” he explained. 

“That’s why you can’t come this weekend? Not up to being my WAG in Haas?” you smirked, pressing small kisses to his cheeks as you spoke. 

“God no, I only go there for Nico,” he smirked. “And you’re replacing him today.”

You rolled your eyes, letting god of him. “Fuck you!” you called after you, trying to suppress a smile. He watched as you walked off, shaking your head and he thought about everything. Every night he went to sleep with you in his arms, every morning he woke up beside you, every smile he saw, every laugh he made happen, every hug or kiss he got from you. He smiled, realising the truth. 

He loved you. 

Therefore he ran after you, making a huge scene in the airport. When he finally made it up to you, there were 2 security guards chasing him, so he wrapped his arms around you and kissed you harshly, a bright smile on his face. “I love you,” he smiled when he pulled away. 

“You’re going to get fucking arrested!” you stressed, wide-eyed and shocked at his behavior. 

“For being in love?”

“No, you idiot, for bypassing security and running through an airport without a ticket! Go back!” you pushed him off of you with an exasperated and amused smile.

“I love you!” he called after himself as he was taken away by the security guards. 

“I love you too, you fucking idiot!” you scoffed. “You have a phone, y’know!” 

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Liam Lawson: will NOT speak to you at any cost

Being in love with one of his mechanics probably wasn’t the greatest idea, but the heart wants what the heart wants, and his wanted you. 

“Liam can I-?” you started, but he just walked away, his eyes glued to the floor. You followed behind him, trying again and again to get his attention, but he continued ignoring you, and you'd had enough. “Fuck’s sake- Liam! Stop being such a dick! I don’t know if you just don’t respect me, or if you don’t like me, but I’m a mechanic on your time, and I'm asking if there’s anything you want us to change about your car to make you more comfortable. Just answer me that simple question and I promise I won’t bother you again all weekend!” 

He froze on the spot. “I’m in love with you-” he blurted out, then clapped a hand over his mouth. “The car is fine, sorry. Thanks.”

Then he walked off, leaving you in a stunned silence. 

What the fuck had he just done?

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Charles LeClerc: weirdly calm about it

You two sat on (one of)  his (many) yacht(s), overlooking the gorgeous Monaco bay. He had an arm around you, both of you dressed in comfortable clothes with nothing to do for the entire weekend. Oh, how he adored the off-season. You were too busy reading a book to notice the way he was looking at you. In the simple, silent moment it hit him suddenly that he was in fact, in love with you. And it didn’t scare him the way previous girlfriends confessing such things to him had. It felt right, completely normal, even. 

“Do you want anything?” you yawned. 

“Pardon?” he asked, too busy in his own world. 

“I’m ordering food, do you want something?” 

“I’m alright, but let me get it,” he offered and you scoffed.

“Fuck off Percvél. I can pay for my own food,” you chuckled, getting up and walking further into the boat. 

He chuckled, watching after you. 

Wow, he was mature. And, in love. 

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Carlos Sainz: definitely not freaking out

“I love you,” you confessed as the two of you cosied up at the beach. It had been a brilliant holiday, the two of you actually getting to spend some time together. 

He looked at you with wide-eyes. 

“Sorry if that was too soon, or too much. I just… wanted you to know. You don’t have to say anything back- of course.” 

While you were catastrophising, he was freaking out. You loved him. You told him you loved him. Holy shit. 

He stuttered for a moment, making you grimace. You’d fucked it up, definitely. There was no way he felt the same, right? You were probably just a 7 month long hook-up to him, right? 

“I love you too,” he smiled, then pressed his lips to yours.

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Arthur LeClerc: accidental

“Arthur is so whipped!” his friend laughed, watching as Arthur helped you set the table for dinner. Arthur just laughed, whereas, you frowned. Did Arthur think you were too clingy? Too demanding? Too much? 

Throughout dinner, you were pretty quiet, and you didn’t even let Arthur help you clean up. You went to bed early as he entertained the guests alone, and when he came to bed, there was a pillow between either sides of your bed. He frowned. 

“Baby,” he cooed, wrapping his arms around you and placing your head in the crook of his neck. “What is the problem?”

You sniffled. “It’s nothing,” you shook your head. “I’m sorry.”

He felt his heart warm when you held on to him, revelling in the fact that you would choose him to comfort you. “It’s just what-”

“Please don’t tell me you took to heart the comment Harry made?” he scoffed. You were quiet. “My love, I love you, I like helping you, I like being there for you, I like kissing and hugging you. If he has a problem with that then he can fuck off,” he chuckled, then stopped when he realised what he’d said. 

“You love me?” you sniffled, raising your head to look at him. 

He smiled. “Of course I do,” he pressed a kiss to your forehead. “Always.” 

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Ollie Bearman: overwhelmed 

He smiled as he watched you dance on the dancefloor of the club. You looked so free and happy, smiling brightly with friends as the lights flashed and the music was loud enough to feel it in your entire body. 

“Dude, you two are so in love, it’s adorable,” Paul, his friend, pointed out. 

“I don’t- we’re not-”

“Haven’t said it yet?” Paul chuckled. “You should. I think she’d say it back.”

Ollie nodded, trying to pretend his entire world hadn’t been flipped upside down. You. Love. He wasn’t in love, right? All boyfriends wanted their girlfriends beside them at all times, right? All boyfriends missed their girlfriends so much that they flew them out to every race, right?  All boyfriends had begged their girlfriends to meet his parents, and vice versa only months into getting together, right?  All boyfriends felt suffocated when their girlfriends weren’t around, right? 

Oh shit, he was in love with you. He stepped outside to get some air.

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After a while of not seeing Ollie, you went outside to find him. You found him, leaning against the wall of the club, staring off into space. 

“Alright?” you asked, gently placing a hand on his cheek. 

He looked at you and smiled. “Alright,” he nodded, wrapping his hands around your waist. 

“Why’d you leave?” you asked. 

“Needed some air,” he admitted. It wasn’t untrue. 

“For 30 minutes?” you questioned and he knew he’d been caught. “Did Paul say something stupid? Need me to beat him up for you?” 

He chuckled, pulling you closer to him. “No, I’m alright. I was just… thinking.” 

“Dangerous pastime,” you teased and he chuckled. “What about?”

“You,” he confessed. 

“What about me?”

“I’m in love with you,” he answered nervously. 

“Oh yeah?” you smiled and he nodded. “Good thing I love you too.” 

Wow, Paul was right, for once. 

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Max Verstappen: strange man 

He watched from the other side of the plane as you played chess against his mother, bright smiles on both of your faces as the game progressed. He noticed the way your nose crinkled, the way your eyes shone, the comfortable position you sat in. He thought of every moment he got to share with you, and he almost teared up thinking of the best ones. He loved you. But he wouldn’t tell you, not yet. 

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He thrust into you, euphoria so close he could almost touch it. “Good girl, he groaned, feeling your nails in his back. “Taking me so well.” 

You just moaned against his skin, too cockdrunk to really notice what was going on around you. Max was a 4 time world champion. He’d done it. The first thing he’d wanted was to fuck you silly in his hotel room.

He was close, he slowed down his thrusts, much to your dismay, and slowly but firmly continued. 

“I,” thrust. “Love,” thrust. “You.” 

And he came inside you as you screamed into his shoulder, reaching your own peak. He hadn’t even meant to say it, it just came out (see what I did there? 😀). He stared down at you as you looked back up at him with wide eyes. 

“You love me?” you questioned. 

He nodded, his mouth dry. He was trying to focus on the softness of this moment, whilst also having to deal with your tight walls around his cock. Torture. 

“I love you too,” you smiled, flipping him over and straddling him. He groaned when he saw you on top of him and he was hard again. “Let me take care of you, yeah? My winner,” you smirked before starting to move on his cock. 

He was in for a long night. But a long night with the woman he loved. 

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Paul Aron: finally is a victim of humility 

“Paul, just tell her!” Ralf, his brother, argued. “She adores you, you’re in love with her, it’s alright!” 

“But… what if she doesn’t say it back?” He asked, much more insecure than he meant it to sound. He wasn’t used to being unsure when it came to romance. Paul had always been the type of guy to get any girl he wanted, with you it had been different. You’d hated his guts. He had to prove to you he was a good guy, then you’d finally gone out with him, and fast forward a year, he was trying to figure out how to tell you he loved you. He’d only realised it last night, when you were waiting in his apartment with dinner made for the two of you for the simple reason ‘just because’. In that moment he’d wrapped his arms around you and kissed you to stop himself from ruining the night and confessing right then and there. 

Ralf groaned. “You are impossible!” 

When did love become so complicated?

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Jack Doohan: so not casual 

Jack watched as you wiped out in the waves once again, a giggle on his lips. As you resurfaced, he saw the panic in your eyes and he swam over, his body taking over before his brain could say anything. 

“You alright?” he called, swimming over to you. You shook your head wildly, tears forming in your eyes. 

“M-my leg,” you whimpered out, trying to keep yourself above water. He grabbed your waist and held you bridal-style so he could swim back to shore, signalling to the lifeguards as finally got you to shore. He saw the issue when you two were out of the water, a huge gash on your left leg, so bad you could see the bone. The cracked bone.

What ensued for the next 9 hours was a flurry of an ambulance, hospital rooms, and surgery, but the only constant was Jack. he stayed there the entire time, and he was there when you woke up. 

He breathed a sigh of relief when your eyes opened. “Hey baby,” he smiled, easy as ever despite the worry he’d been under extreme stress all day. “You’re awake.”

You nodded, taking his hand. “I’m so sorry about today-”

“Don’t apologise. We all get hurt sometimes, it’s alright,” he reassured you. “Plus, it’s not like I can be mad at you.”

“Why not?” you asked. 

“Because I love you,” he shrugged. He’d realised in the 9 hours of  stress that he wouldn’t go to this extent for anyone else, and that he must be insane or in love (which were probably the same thing) to somehow be blindsighted into bringing you to the most dangerous part of the beach for surfing (we was persuaded by you kissing him lots) and then bringing you to the ER and staying with you the entire time. So, he chose the love one, it sounded better. 

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୨・──── TELL ME I’M A LITTLE ANGEL, SWEETHEART OF YOUR CITY ────・୧

pairing ⸺ satoru gojo x reader

teaser ⸺ as a child, you were taken in by the powerful gojo clan and raised alongside their heir, gojo satoru — but never as his sibling. now, at an elite school, your fragile bond is tested when an actual noble woman enters the picture, bringing in a marriage proposal.

content ⸺ fluff, reader is an academic achiever and has a good handwriting, heavy angst, hurt/comfort, cliff hanger ending, human auctions, implied slavery, jealousy, implied torture, shoko talks about using medical tools for torture (lol), blood, implied abuse, implied grape (not at reader), magic!au, historic!au, the ages of reader and gojo throughout the story: 3, 10, 12, 15, 17

count ⸺ 22k

author’s note ⸺ thank you to everyone for waiting patiently! this is just the part one, i hope it does well to give me enough motivation to write a part two. i have so soo many ideas i’m hoping to incorporate.

🎧 ao3 wattpad

You sat next to the man, bowing deeply with him at some figure you couldn’t care less about. It had to be someone important obviously, and you knew now was the time you were going to get kicked out of a place for the tenth time in your life, unwittingly dragging this poor man with you as well. He had seemed kind enough when he had bought you off at that auction.

He wasn’t anything like you had feared. You had met other girls bonding with each other inside the cage; girls older and prettier than you, getting sold off one by one to old and creepy men who looked like they couldn’t keep it in their pants. You had dreaded meeting the same fate as them. That was, until the man who kept increasing his offer for you looked younger and stronger.

He was probably like one of those army officers you had seen at your mother’s house, who would stand guard outside your small room each night she and her happy family went out to lavish parties, to make sure you didn’t escape. Well, even if you did, you thought that was what they would have wanted, but they kept saying that they didn’t want anyone noticing your existence. Not that they didn’t have a good reason.

In your mind, you had hoped the man would win, and when he had, the triumphant look on his face made you sigh in relief; at least now you were sure you wouldn’t be used as a hole for life. But were you, though? Because the thoughts kept creeping back; the looks on the other girls’ faces when they were taken away by their new masters. But the mysterious man had made you sit on his pretty horse, taking you somewhere, away from the horrifying auctions that represented the worst atrocities made by humans.

You peered from under your hands, still in your bowing position. The person had now risen. He had dark hair and vivid blue eyes. He seemed to peer at you in as much curiosity as you were at him. That was, until a crisp voice had cut through the silence, knocking you out of your bow when it addressed your saviour to “pack his things and leave”.

“I understand, madam,” he said smoothly, getting up to leave, not before giving another curt nod. Then he turned to you. “This is where my job ends, little one. You’ll be much happier here,” he whispered, nodding at you and standing up. You almost wanted to stop him before you remembered you were told several times that you didn’t possess any human emotions. So you watched him leave, wondering how he was so sure this wouldn’t be another one of your previous houses.

“As for the child,” you snapped your head back to the dark-haired man in front of you who seemed to be giving commands, “we must decide which family keeps her. From the looks of it, she needs to be tended to,” he eyed your wounds from previous struggles you wished to forget about.

You stared at the people he was questioning, and they all looked away. This seemed like a meeting room, and the people were lined up sitting parallel to each other. Some were glaring at you like you had come to raid their houses, fuck their wives and drink their blood. None of them seemed to realize you were only a child of ten. Nervous under all the gazes, you wished to find another person you could bow to, just to avoid all the staring you were receiving.

“We will,” said the same voice you had heard earlier, and you finally looked at its source.

She had long, white hair that seemed to reach till the floor. Her eyes were light, and she looked pretty. She had a cold look on her face that made her seem frightening, though, and that was probably why you saw that none of the others could even muster enough courage to look at her eyes when she said those words.

“Well, it’s decided then,” the man said in a final tone, as if he had only bargained about the price of a few watermelons from his local vendor. “Love, if you will.”

Love? Oh, maybe they were married.

The woman stood up and everyone bowed at her again. You were about to sink back into the position before she crouched down in front of you, caressing your hair with a touch that made you look back at her.

“Come with me, daughter.”

──── ୨ৎ ────

“I have a sister now?” “Shh, and don’t call her that. I’ve already told you, she’s not your sister��”

“Does she know how to ride horses?” “Do you ever do anything else?”

“She should know how to ride horses.” “You can teach her.”

“Oh, wow, really?”

You scrambled away from the door at the sounds of footsteps returning and sunk back into the expensive bed the woman had had prepared for you. The ‘woman’ who asked you to call her ‘mom’, somehow losing the twinkle in her eye when commanding maids around, which she seemed to regain every time you spoke something.

You knew it was a trap though. If she really ‘adopted’ you and wanted you to call her ‘mom’, wouldn’t that mean you were the sister to whatever child she already had? Yet here you were, all cleaned up and changed, almost believing the charade before realizing the child was being advised not to consider you as their sister.

You bit your lip, trying not to cry. At least you weren’t at your old house thinking of ways to poison your family, or in that cage counting down for when it was your turn, or lying dead in some creep’s backyard. Maybe you could enjoy this while it lasted.

“May I come in?” A polite, boyish voice rang out from behind your door. A hushed whisper of an older woman seemed to reprimand him for not knocking, and the two started to argue.

“Yes?” You didn’t quite know how to respond professionally to the request, so your answer came off more as a question. You sure hoped the man wouldn’t scold you for your manners as well.

A boy stepped forward, and you immediately knew he was the son of the two clan leaders. Not because of his clothes, but because of his face. He had the same white hair as his mother, and the blue eyes he got from his father. Maybe blue eyes were a thing of the clan?

“Hi,” he said awkwardly, and the door closed behind him. “Mother sent me here for ‘bonding time’.” You kept staring at him, not realizing you were staring. He looked up at you and flushed. Only then did you realize, chuckling awkwardly and scratching your wrists, trying to get used to the expensive scents the maids had covered you with.

“Can I… uh,” he trailed off, staring at you, and you blinked back at him, not knowing what he was going to say.

“...sit on the bed?” You offered, and he raised an eyebrow before climbing on it, sitting in the most formal position you had ever seen.

“Do you like horse riding?” “What?”

He flushed even more. “Mother said we should ask each other questions to get to know the other better.”

“Oh.” “Yeah.”

There was another silence.

“So it’s my turn to ask a question now?” You asked. “Yeah.”

“Do you like potatoes?”

“What?” He processed your question for a solid five seconds before bursting into laughter. You kept staring at him as if he was stupid. Did you say something stupid?

“I like you!” He said in between giggles, his old formal, uptight position long lost. It was your turn to flush now. No one had ever said they even wanted you alive, let alone say that. Well, no one except for three people in the past few hours, and now this guy. You had a feeling you might prefer this over anything else for now.

──── ୨ৎ ────

The soft hum of celebration still lingered in the air. Lanterns flickered outside glowing warmly across your room. You sat on the edge of your bed, staring at the wrapped gifts and trinkets the Gojo family had insisted on presenting you earlier. It had been strange, the idea of sharing a birthday with Satoru. You didn’t even know your real birthday, so his — no — your mother announced it would be shared.

Satoru had, of course, embraced the attention, dragging you along with him to cut the massive cake. You had never seen anything like this before, and it might have shown on your face, because he had held your wrist tightly as if annoyed you were taking so long, and cut the cake with you. That was what made it impossible to shun the feelings of belongingness.

Now, the house was quiet, and the festivities had faded. But just as you were about to pull the covers over yourself, the faint sound of your door creaking open made you pause.

“Hey,” Satoru’s voice whispered, followed by the soft padding of his feet. You turned your head to see him, still in the formal robes mother had fussed over earlier, though they were now slightly askew. His hair was a mess, his face flushed from excitement — or maybe all the sweets he’d devoured.

“Should you not knock?” you asked, folding your arms. You inwardly cringed at the noble accent you had unknowingly adopted from the Gojo family. “And what are you doing here?”

“Escaping,” he said, as if that explained everything. He plopped down without invitation beside you on the bed, leaning back on his hands and gazing at the ceiling. “Mother’s got the maids cleaning up. I was bored. Figured you’d be awake.”

You rolled your eyes, but he caught the faint smile tugging at your lips. “You’re going to get us in trouble. Again.”

“What’s the point of having a birthday if you can’t even cause some trouble now?” He shot you a grin, then leaned closer to the window. “Let’s go outside.”

“What? No.” “Please, please, pretty please?”

“I am not letting my first birthday become my death day,” you scoffed at him. Taking one look at the pout on his face, which seemed to stretch all the way down to his neck, you sighed, and he knew he won. “Fine. But we’re only looking outside.”

“What!? But what’s the fun in that?” “Then go alone.”

He pouted again, but you merely looked away trying to shield yourself from his cuteness. Soon after though, Satoru relented. He slid the window open and climbed onto the ledge, grumbling for you to follow. You joined him, settling beside him as the smell of night air filled your room. The stars were brilliant tonight, like silver dust across an ink-black canvas.

“They’re so bright,” you murmured. “It’s almost… too much.”

Satoru snorted. “That’s the problem with you. You overthink everything. Just look at them — they’re pretty, that’s all there is to it.”

You rolled your eyes again but couldn’t suppress a small laugh. “Fine. They’re beautiful. Happy now?”

“Very,” he said, grinning. Then he tilted his head, closing his eyes and mumbling something to himself. He opened his eyes, looking at you expectantly. “Now it’s your turn. Make a wish.”

“What?” You frowned.

“A wish! Like for your birthday. I know we already made some during the cake thing, but this one’s private. Just for us.”

You hesitated, unsure of what to wish for, before finally closing your eyes. Satoru watched you intently as if trying to guess your wish, but when you opened your eyes again, he pretended to be fascinated by the sky.

“Oh, done already? What did you wish for?” he asked after a moment.

“You said it was private,” you shot back. “What did you wish for?”

“Not telling,” he replied smugly, crossing his arms. “What if you laugh?”

“Why would I laugh?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Because you’re you.” “And you’re stupid.”

The two of you fell into another argument, but when it finally died down, it was followed by a comfortable silence, broken only by the occasional sound of distant crickets. Then, out of nowhere, Satoru blurted out, “Do you think the stars can hear us?”

“What?” You stared at him.

“The stars,” he said seriously, pointing upward. “Do you think they grant wishes, like gods or something?”

“That’s stupid,” you muttered, but you couldn’t hide the faint curl of amusement on your lips. “They’re just balls of gas.”

“Well, maybe those gas balls are listening,” he said, sticking his tongue out. “You don’t know everything. Maybe they are hearing us right now.”

You opened your mouth to retort but froze. A memory seemed to resurface…

“I still don’t know why you decided to keep the child!” a deep voice was screeching at another, soft one.

“I don’t know what came over me, I swear!”“It is the spawn of Satan himself! I respect you for what you have been through, but it is time to dispose of her.”

“Dispose? You don’t mean—”

Large hands came your way to muffle the screams from your mouth.

Your fingers clenched the windowsill.

“They didn’t hear me before,” you said quietly, almost to yourself.

“What?” Satoru noticed the change in your tone, and turned to look at you, his brow furrowing. “Who? The balls?”

You shook your head quickly. “Never mind. Forget I said anything.”

But Satoru wasn’t one to let things go. “Hey,” he said softly. “You can tell me. I mean, if you want.”

His sincerity made your chest tighten. Normally, after the word ‘balls’, he would have made a bad joke about male anatomy. But he seemed to have read the room enough to shut up. You looked at him, his bright blue eyes watching you with genuine concern. For a moment, you thought about telling him. But then, the weight of it all felt too heavy to share. He was too young, too shielded from the horrors of the world to be able to handle any of it anyway.

“It’s nothing,” you muttered. “Just something dumb I used to believe.”

Satoru opened his mouth to argue, then seemed to think better of it. Instead, he smiled gently and nudged your shoulder. “Okay. But if you ever want to talk about dumb things, I’m here. You know, I’m dumb, so…” he tried making the joke you always did.

You didn’t know how to respond to that, so you simply nodded. The two of you sat in silence for a little while longer, watching the stars. Finally, Satoru stretched and hopped down from the ledge.

“Goodnight,” he said, giving you a lopsided grin. “And happy birthday.”

You blinked at him, caught off guard by the warmth in his voice. “You too,” you said softly.

As he closed the door as softly as he could behind him, you stared out at the stars, wondering if maybe, just maybe, they had started listening after all.

──── ୨ৎ ────

The sound of hooves clattering against the cobblestone path filled the air as the royal carriage swayed gently on its way to the prestigious School of Royalty. The morning sun cast a golden glow on the lush green fields outside, but inside, the atmosphere was both tense and excited.

“You know,” Satoru began, leaning lazily against the plush velvet seat, “I heard there’s a whole batch of new exchange students joining today. Rumor is, one of them’s from the Silver Crescent Kingdom. Ever seen anyone from there? They’re supposed to have that, uh… ‘ethereal glow.’ You think that’s real, or just something people say?”

You barely glanced up from the notebook in your lap, furrowing your brows as you paused your incoherent babbling of equations. “If you spent half as much time studying for the exam as you do gossiping, maybe you wouldn’t need to cheat off me later.”

He smirked, unbothered. “Cheat? Me? I’m offended. I’m just naturally brilliant.”

“And naturally annoying,” you muttered, flipping to another page of hastily scribbled notes.

Satoru ignored the jab, his grin widening. At fifteen, he’d grown into someone who couldn’t step into a room without people swooning for his attention. You guessed it was just a Gojo thing he inherited from his mother. The girls adored him — some from afar, others more boldly (you still cringe remembering that one time a girl with a sorry excuse of a top was taken away by your guards for trying to get a kiss from him last year) — and the boys either envied or wanted to be him. The name “Satoru Gojo” seemed to be whispered wherever he went, and he couldn’t be happier.

You, on the other hand, had decided that the attention you receive at your house was enough to satisfy you for a lifetime, and you would rather spend your time learning something new — at least, that’s what you told your mother; that you would rather cry over your grades than guys, to which Satoru had cleverly remarked, “Why not both?” earning a glare from his mother. While you did have friends, and you did seem to be friendly with everyone around you, you would watch in dismay when most of these friends would recite their love stories, and you had nothing to share. The boys barely noticed you, too busy being gay over Satoru. But you had your books, your achievements, and the satisfaction of knowing you didn’t need anyone’s approval.

“And get this,” Satoru continued, his excitement growing. “I heard one of them’s some kind of prodigy. Like, they mastered advanced magic when they were ten. Can you imagine? Finally, someone who might be able to keep up with me. They’re a senior too, so I want to see the look on their face when they realize I’m better than them.”

“Mhm,” you replied distractedly, not bothering to look up. You were too busy with the definition of archaic spellcasting principles and the formulas for mana stabilization to muster a reply of more than a single syllable. The exam was in less than an hour, and the thought of failing even one question sent a jolt of anxiety through you.

Satoru leaned forward, peering at your notes upside down. “What’s that? Something about magic circles? You’re still on those? I mastered those ages ago.”

You snapped your notebook shut and shot him a glare. “You didn’t ‘master’ anything. You just wing it and hope for the best.”

“Hey, it works, doesn’t it?” He shrugged. “Besides, you’ll cover for me if I mess up. That’s what partners are for.”

“We’re not partners.”

“Sure we are,” he said breezily. “Partners in crime. Mischief-makers extraordinaire. The unbeatable duo.” He winked, and you rolled your eyes so hard it was a wonder they didn’t fall out of your head.

The carriage hit a bump, causing you to clutch your notes tighter. Satoru, unfazed, lounged back in his seat and stared out of the window. “You know, you should relax a little. Exams aren’t life or death.”

“For you, maybe. Some of us don’t have a safety net made of charm and raw talent.”

He laughed, the sound warm and unguarded. “Wow, you really think I’m charming and talented? Thanks, baby.”

You didn’t dignify that dumb statement with a response. Instead, you turned your attention back to your notes, determined to make use of every second you had left.

The carriage began to slow, signaling their arrival at the school gates. Satoru straightened, his excitement palpable. “Here we go. Time to make an impression. Think the exchange students are going to swoon over me?”

“Only if they have no taste,” you muttered, gathering your things.

He grinned, standing and offering you a hand as the carriage came to a stop. “Come on, don’t be such a poopy.”

You cringed again before taking his hand, letting him help you down. The moment your feet touched the ground, the buzz of the school grounds surrounded you. Students swarmed the entrance, chattering excitedly about everything from the new arrivals to last-minute cramming for the exam.

Satoru strode ahead confidently, while you lingered a step behind, clutching your notes tightly. He glanced at you, running back to catch up with you. “Where’s Kuro? He’s supposed to be part of the dramatic entrance I had planned.”

“I sent him away. He was annoying me with the confetti.” “You— WHAT?”

You ignored him, continuing to walk up the stairs leading to your exam hall without looking up at anyone. Satoru jogged beside you.

“We haven’t met with any of the exchange students yet!” “Satoru, if you want to, then leave.”

He pouted, planting your face in front of yours above your notes. “You know I won’t leave you.”

“Then stay quiet and let me study.” “Alright, alright,” he said, sighing. He stared at you for a few moments, pacing around the hall with you while you muttered curses under your breath. He smiled. You always hated this one subject but felt the need to excel in it anyway. “Hey,” he said softly. “You’ll do great, you know.”

The sincerity in his voice caught you off guard, but you masked it with a scoff. “You’d better hope so. If I fail, you’ll fail too.”

He laughed again, a sound as effortless as everything else about him. “That’s true. Can’t impress anyone with an F on the paper, can I?” The loud bell rang, and Satoru moved to cover your ears with the palms of his hands. “I’ve got you covered, princess. In return, you must guarantee that I pass.”

You smiled a genuine smile at him, something you had gotten quite used to doing in the past four years you had spent with your new family. “I can’t guarantee that. Let’s go, I’m done now.”

His eyes widened comically, “What do you mean you can’t guarantee that?” You laughed at him, and he snatched your notebook from your hands. “Give me that! Oh god. I’m doomed, aren’t I?”

“Yup, let’s go now.”

The exam hall echoed with the sound of faint murmurs and the occasional nervous coughs. While theory had been nerve-wracking, at least you had been able to cram for it. But the practicals? They were a whole different beast. No amount of late-night revisions could prepare you for actual spellwork.

You clutched your wand tightly, its polished surface cold and smooth against your clammy palms. The examiner called your name, and your stomach flipped. Taking a deep breath, you stepped forward. What were the steps again? Swing your wand, say the words, and hope for the best.

You stood before the enchanted apparatus. It was a simple magical round glass that would respond to the accuracy of your spell, changing its colour accordingly. The orb pulsed softly, steams of gas floating stilly in its interior, waiting. You were supposed to transfigure a cactus into a goblet full of water. The room was silent, dozens of eyes boring into your back. 

Why did they have to make everyone do the practicals individually, and on stage?

You closed your eyes briefly, mustering every ounce of focus. With a flick of your wand and the carefully practiced words spilling from your lips, you executed the spell. Wand still in the air, you waited. And waited. And waited. Nothing happened. Then, the orb glowed a brilliant gold.

“Perfect!” The elderly professor cried, clasping her hands together. She really liked you. “Next, please.”

Relief washed over you, and you felt a disbelieving smile creep onto your face. Scooting off the stage, you climbed down the stairs to your seat. You caught Satoru’s eye and mouthed, Good luck. He was slouching on his chair, winking at you and giving you a lazy thumbs-up.

Just as you sat down, you noticed your gaze didn’t leave him. You kept looking at him, how effortlessly good he looked in his outfit, sunglasses perched languidly on his nose. He was looking straight ahead at the stage above, and you glanced at the front too. Shoko got a pale yellow glow from the orb, an easy B.

Your eyes wandered to the girl in line ahead of Satoru. You recognized her instantly, how could you not? Wavy chestnut hair that caught the light just so, impeccable posture, an air of confidence that bordered on smug, and her pink lips upright looking behind her. She was from one of the distant kingdoms—brilliant in class, annoyingly charming, and unfortunately, quite pretty. And right now, she seemed pretty happy about being positioned so close to Satoru.

It was the way she was smiling at Satoru that irritated you. Not the polite, fleeting kind of smile you’d give a classmate. No, this was different. She tilted her head slightly, her lips curved in a way that made even you highly uncomfortable. You saw her fingers brush a strand of hair behind her ear — twice, because apparently once wasn’t enough — and she leaned just a fraction closer to him.

You squinted. Was she flirting? She was flirting. Yuck. You resisted the urge to roll your eyes, but your jaw tightened. Getting up sneakily from your seat, you joined the crowd they stood with to spy on the two.

“I hear the examiners this year are super strict,” she said, her voice soft and lilting. “Not that you need to worry. I’ve seen you in dueling practice — you’re incredible,” she sighed at him dramatically, eyes turned to hearts.

Satoru blinked at her, then scratched the back of his neck. “Uh, thanks? I guess?”

She laughed — too loud for a casual compliment. “You’re so modest! That’s so rare, you know.” Her eyes sparkled as she stared up at him, clearly hoping he’d reciprocate the energy.

He didn’t. “Modest? Me?” Satoru’s tone was laced with genuine confusion, his brow furrowing slightly. “You sure you’re talking about the right guy?”

You saw Geto, his best friend, stifle a laugh at that, but you didn’t find any of this funny. Geto caught your eye and immediately stopped laughing, trying to inch closer to Satoru to warn him of your incoming wrath.

But the girl kept blocking his way.

“Oh, absolutely,” she said smoothly, leaning in even closer. “I bet you’ll get top marks, as always. You must have so many admirers.”

Your grip on your wand tightened. You might not be as violent as Satoru when it came to dueling, but you couldn’t care less about that at the moment. Nor did you seem to notice the sheer number of students surrounding you.

Satoru, as usual, was utterly oblivious. “Admirers? I sure hope so,” he said with a shrug. “But thanks, I guess?”

You wanted to shake him. How could he not see what she was doing? The way her voice softened whenever she said his name, how her lashes fluttered just a bit too much when she looked at him — it was painfully obvious. And yet, Satoru treated her like he treated everyone else: polite, casual, and just detached enough to make it clear he wasn’t interested.

“Next!” called the examiner, and the girl’s name echoed through the hall.

She turned to Satoru with a dazzling smile. “Wish me luck?”

“Uh, good luck?” he said, scratching his head.

You were half a second away from gagging, Geto slipping from beside Satoru to join you, both of you dissing the situation in hushed whispers.

As she walked away, you muttered under your breath, “Unbelievable.”

Geto muttered, equally frustrated, but this was pointed towards Satoru, “Unbelievable indeed.”

Your eyes followed the movements of her wand, and you tried to calculate the exact angle by which she tilted her wand too high, the length by which her hand movement went wrong and the distance between her wrist and the cactus assigned to her. Geto shook his head at your overly focused expression.

A loud pop filled the air, followed by startled squeaks. Your eyes widened. The examiners scrambled around, now very much turned into rats! The girl froze, her wand dangling uselessly at her side as laughter rippled through the room.

You bit your lip. What were you supposed to be feeling right now? Secondhand embarrassment or vindication? Serves her right, you thought, though a small part of you almost pitied her. Almost.

The headmaster, who had been watching the whole ordeal with an amused expression, quickly restored order, probably glad he wasn’t turned into a mouse or something. He dismissed the rest of the students and awarded automatic A’s to those who hadn’t gone yet.

You groaned and Geto laughed at you, a grimacing Shoko dangling from his arm. Together, the three of you were about to leave the hall when Satoru caught up with you, grinning like he’d just won the lottery. “Wild. Best exam ever. I didn’t even have to do anything!”

You shot him a sideways glance, your mood souring again. “Yeah, lucky you.”

“Wait, are you mad?” he asked, peering at you. “You’re mad. Why are you mad?”

“I’m not mad,” you said shortly, walking faster, waving goodbye to Geto, who was now left alone to deal with a hungry kitten, Shoko.

“You’re definitely mad,” he teased, catching up. “What, is it because I got an A without lifting a finger? Don’t worry, you’ll get to cheat off my usual genius self next time. Maybe you’ll even get an A+++++++ because of me… or whatever the highest grade is.”

“Right,” you said, rolling your eyes. “You’re so modest,” you mimicked the girl from earlier, but he didn’t get the reference.

At break, you sat under the shade of a tree, quietly eating your snack and watching the courtyard buzz with post-exam chatter. Across the lawn, the girl was crying into her boyfriend’s shoulder, her wails loud enough to carry. You frowned, unsure whether to feel sorry for or annoyed at her.

Her boyfriend, a tall, broad-shouldered guy from her kingdom, seemed to be comforting her, rubbing her back and murmuring reassurances. Weird, you thought. He doesn’t even know he’s worse than Satoru in her eyes.

The suspension had been swift: four months for reckless and dangerous spellcasting. Watching her now, you couldn’t muster much sympathy. It was one thing to fail; it was another to fail so dramatically. It’s what she deserves.

Satoru plopped down beside you, unwrapping a burger he’d somehow acquired (probably chased after Shoko to steal her food). “Hey, isn’t that, uh... Britney? No, wait, Bridget? Or... Burger?”

You raised an eyebrow. “Burger?”

“Yeah, burger,” he said, taking a huge bite and gesturing vaguely in her direction. “She’s got layers, y’know? Like a burger.”

“You’re ridiculous,” you said, shaking your head.

“C’mon, you gotta admit it’s funny,” he said, his grin widening. “She tries to turn on the charm, and bam! Instant ratification.”

You groaned at the pun, but laughter bubbled up anyway. Satoru’s dumb humor always had a way of disarming you.

“Heyyyyyyyy!” A voice dragged out, and you were met with a flash of dark blue hair before you were hugged tightly. “I heard your exam went great, but then, of course it did.” She patted your head. “Well done.”

“Thanks, Utahime.”

“No need to thank me,” Utahime pulled out your favourite chips from her bag and handed them to you.

“Hey, nothing for me?” Satoru wailed.

“Who the fuck are you?” “Rude.”

She ignored him and turned back to you. “Anyway, did you see any of the new exchange students? They’re good-looking.”

“So?” You munched on your chips.

“So,” she said loudly, shooing Satoru off to sit in his place next to you, “we can finally get you a boyfriend.”

Satoru snorted. “Boyfriend? Why does she need a boyfriend?”

“And,” she stepped on his foot with her heel and he skipped away across the courtyard, foot in his hand and muttering curses under his breath. “There’s that prodigy guy. You two could have been academic rivals if he was in your grade. Ugh, this is so annoying. Couldn’t he repeat a few classes? Dumbass.”

“Uh, I’m not interes—” “Yes, you are,” she looked at you with a wide, crazy smile as if daring you to disagree, and you gulped.“No wasting time watching couples break up,” she pointed at the girl in front of you, whose boyfriend seemed to have heard of the real reason she messed up her spell. Utahime lifted you by one arm and practically flew the yards to reach the main hall, where your assembly would take place to welcome the exchange students.

The assembly hall buzzed with anticipation, the crowd of students shifting restlessly as they filled the rows of wooden benches. Your arm still ached from Utahime dragging you all the way here. You, on the other hand, couldn’t help but feel drained—physically and emotionally.

The morning’s drama was still fresh in your mind, particularly the girl’s humiliating display. The idea of someone so brazenly cozying up to Satoru still gnawed at you. And now, you had to sit through an assembly to greet some mysterious prodigies who probably thought they were better than everyone else. Perfect.

“Sit here,” Utahime ordered, pointing to a spot near the front. “I need a good view.”

“Of what?” you asked, dropping onto the bench with a huff.

“Duh, the new guys. Maybe one of them will be your destined academic rival-slash-love interest,” she said dramatically, clasping her hands like a cheesy romance novel heroine.

You rolled your eyes. “I’m fine without one, thanks.”

“Oh, don’t be boring,” she said, plopping down beside you. “You need some excitement in your life. Besides, I heard some of the new guys are supposed to be really good-looking,” she whispered, leaning in as if discussing a conspiracy theory involving the Monarchy of Mars. “Like, model good-looking.”

You let out a noncommittal hum, tracing the edge of the seat in front of you with a finger. Utahime nudged you. “Don’t you care? Come on, aren’t you curious?”

“Not really,” you lied.

Utahime rolled her eyes, clearly unimpressed. “Sure, sure. But if someone walks in here looking like a movie star, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Your gaze wandered to the double doors at the front of the hall, where the new students were supposed to enter. You didn’t care much about the guys. But what if there were girls? Pretty girls. The kind with perfect skin and perfect hair and that effortless grace you always seemed to lack.

Your stomach churned. Why were you even thinking about that?

You glanced at Utahime, still chattering away about rumors she’d heard excitedly. She was bouncing slightly in her seat, her eyes scanning the room like a hawk. But you couldn’t shake the thought — what if everyone thought the other girls were prettier? You could almost smell the break up stories your dozen friends would fetch for you because the new girls seemed hotter to the dung-nosed guys of your school.

“For the next few months, I will be stuck amidst boy troubles,” you muttered, glancing across the hall. Satoru had finally joined the crowd, sauntering in late as usual. He spotted you almost immediately and shot you a wink before sliding into a seat with Geto and Shoko.

Your stomach did an involuntary flip, but you shoved the feeling down. He was just being Satoru like always. That’s all it was.

Right?

The headmaster’s booming voice filled the hall. “Welcome, students, to this year’s exchange program orientation!”

The crowd settled as the headmaster launched into a long-winded speech about tradition, excellence, and the importance of collaboration between kingdoms. You zoned out almost immediately, your eyes drifting back to Satoru.

He was whispering something to Geto, who smirked and nudged him in the ribs. Shoko looked utterly disinterested, flipping through a medical journal she’d smuggled in. Typical.

You pulled your eyes away from them. The last time you had zoned out in class because of him, your mood had been soured for the whole following hour. The sound of applause gave you an excuse out of your reverie. The exchange students were being introduced now, stepping onto the stage one by one. They were all polished, confident, and, admittedly, quite impressive.

Utahime elbowed you sharply. “Look at that one!” she hissed, nodding toward a tall boy with striking blond hair and piercing brown eyes.

You blinked. “Looks like he walked out of a painting.”

“Exactly,” she said, smirking. “He’s perfect for you.”

You groaned. “Can we not do this right now?”

Utahime ignored you entirely, listing off reasons why he’d make a great boyfriend: “Smart, handsome, probably good at magic—”

“Definitely better at cactus transfiguration,” you muttered, earning a snort of laughter from her.

Meanwhile, Satoru had twisted around in his seat, craning his neck to see what the commotion was about. When his eyes landed on you and Utahime, his expression soured slightly. He didn’t like being left out, and it was written all over his face.

“Who’s better at cactus transfiguration?” He suddenly appeared behind you.

“None of your business,” Utahime shot back, sticking her tongue out.

“Wow, mature,” Satoru deadpanned.

The assembly droned on, with each exchange student introducing themselves in turn. You tried to pay attention, really, but your mind kept wandering. Utahime’s ridiculous matchmaking schemes. Satoru’s infuriatingly perfect smile. The girl’s earlier meltdown. It was all swirling together into a chaotic mess of emotions you didn’t have the energy to untangle.

Finally, the headmaster wrapped up his speech with a flourish. “Let’s give our guests a warm welcome!” he declared, prompting another round of applause.

As the crowd began to disperse, Utahime grabbed your arm again. “Come on, let’s go talk to him!”

“To who?” you asked, bewildered. “The blond-haired guy, obviously!”

“Absolutely not,” you said, digging your heels into the ground.

But before you could argue further, a familiar voice interrupted.

“Leaving without saying hi? Rude.”

You turned to find Satoru standing behind you still, his trademark grin firmly in place.

Utahime groaned. “Go away, Gojo.”

“Can’t. I’m here to rescue my friend from your matchmaking madness,” he said, draping an arm over your shoulder.

You tried to shrug him off, but he held on tight, his presence annoyingly comforting.

“Why do you care?” Utahime shot back.

Satoru’s grin widened, but his tone was surprisingly serious. “Because she doesn’t need some random guy when she’s got me.”

He tugged you away, leaving Utahime fuming in his wake.

“Thanks for the save,” you mumbled once you were out of earshot.

“Anytime,” Satoru said lightly, though there was an edge to his voice you couldn’t quite place. “And besides, didn’t want you to end up with an annoying mother—”

You raised an eyebrow at him. Did he forget he was in a royal school where all the students and teachers were high-class nobles and the mere mention of vocabulary outside of the poshed-up ones exclusively for the rich would make him an infamous wreck in everyone’s eyes?

He caught your eye and continued, “—trucker.”

──── ୨ৎ ────

The dining table was as extravagant as ever, its polished surface reflecting the golden glow of the chandelier overhead. Plates were neatly arranged, and bowls of steaming food were placed in a perfect line down the centre. Mother sat at the head of the table, her posture so upright it made your back ache just looking at her. Across from her sat Father, whose stern expression was an almost permanent fixture at meals.

You occupied your usual spot, tucked between Satoru and his mother, a position that felt both safe and stifling. Satoru, of course, lounged in his chair as if it were a throne, pushing peas around his plate with one chopstick, clearly uninterested in the discussion at hand. It was peaceful and calm. But as soon as Satoru’s father set down his chopsticks, you knew this tranquillity wouldn’t last.

“Satoru,” his father began.

Satoru didn’t even look up, lazily poking at his food. “Uh oh. Here we go.”

“Don’t start,” his mother said sharply, and Satoru sighed dramatically, dropping his chopsticks like they were too heavy to hold.

“Fine. What is it this time? Did someone see me napping in class? Because, for the record, I was listening with my eyes closed.”

“Your instructor tells me your theoretical scores are excellent, as expected,” Satoru’s mother began, her sharp gaze sweeping across the table to land on him. “But your duel with Suguru during last week’s practice was... undisciplined.”

Satoru shrugged, not bothering to look up. “It’s not my fault Suguru got cocky.”

His father’s goblet hit the plate with a sharp clink. “And whose fault is it that you refuse to follow proper form? You’re not dueling for fun, Satoru. These exercises are meant to sharpen your skills for real combat.”

You could feel the tension grow, so you instinctively focused on the rice in your bowl. Satoru, however, leaned back in his chair, completely unfazed.

“Real combat isn’t about sticking to the rulebook,” he said lazily, resting an arm on the back of your chair. “It’s about adaptability.”

“That is not an excuse to showboat,” his mother snapped. “You might think you’re untouchable, but arrogance will get you killed one day.”

For a brief moment, something flickered in his eyes — irritation, maybe, or defiance — but he masked it with a grin. “Not likely.”

“Only because you’re naturally talented,” his mother interjected coldly. “Talent will only carry you so far, Satoru. You lack discipline, respect, and—”

“Manners,” his father finished, glaring at him.

His mother pinched the bridge of her nose. “All we’re trying to make you understand is, this isn’t a joke, Satoru. You’re supposed to be the strongest, and yet you’re constantly underperforming. Meanwhile, look at her.” She gestured to you, and your heart sank.

“Oh no,” you muttered under your breath.

“Look at her,” his mother repeated. “Top marks in every subject, excellent dueling reports, and the teachers can’t stop praising. Why can’t you be more like her?”

Satoru threw up his hands. “Because she’s a robot! Have you seen her handwriting? It’s terrifying!”

“I just have neat handwriting,” you mumbled defensively.

“Neat? It’s like a calligraphy competition on every page,” Satoru said, jabbing a chopstick at you. “She probably practices writing spells for fun.”

“She’s perfect,” his father said firmly, as if it were an unshakable fact of the universe.

“Exactly my point!” Satoru exclaimed, throwing his arms in the air. “How am I supposed to compete with that?!”

“You’ve been doing wonderfully,” his mother interrupted warmly, and you almost choked on your water. She reached to kiss your forehead and you felt fuzzy all over.

“Really?” you said hopefully.

“Yes,” his father agreed, nodding. “We’re very impressed with your progress. And your last dueling performance was flawless. Keep it up.”

Satoru’s jaw dropped. “What? That’s it? No lecture about being even better? No existential guilt trip?”

“She doesn’t need one,” his mother said simply.

“She’s already self-motivated,” his father added.

Satoru gawked at them, then at you. “Wait, are you seriously not going to roast her? Not even a little?”

His mother held up a hand to silence the banter. “Enough. We’re not here to discuss her. We’re here to discuss you and your inability to take anything seriously.”

“I take plenty of things seriously!” Satoru protested.

“Name one,” his father challenged.

Satoru opened his mouth, paused, then pointed to you. “Her.”

You nearly choked on your rice. “What?!”

“See? I take her academic success very seriously,” he continued smoothly. “She’s basically my tutor at this point. Without her, I’d probably be failing food transfiguration.”

“Food transfiguration is not the metric for success,” his father said dryly, but his lips twitched like he was trying not to laugh.

“And yet, it’s a class!” Satoru shot back. “A class I pass, thanks to her.”

You groaned, burying your face in your hands. “Please stop talking.”

“Never,” Satoru said cheerfully, ruffling your hair like you were a pet.

The room went silent for a beat, and then his father muttered, “Pass the rice.”

You couldn’t help but snort, quickly covering your mouth to stifle your laughter. Satoru’s grin widened, clearly taking your reaction as a victory.

“I’m serious about the food transfiguration, though,” he whispered to you as the conversation shifted. “You saved me from flunking that one.”

“By telling you to stop turning the chicken into a dinosaur?” you whispered back, rolling your eyes.

“Exactly. Genius advice.” Satoru sighed, slumping dramatically. "I swear, if I weren’t so charming, I’d be useless."

“You are,” you replied, teasing him with a grin.

──── ୨ৎ ────

The foreign exchange students filed into the classroom. You hadn’t met any of them yet, but the instant you saw a giggling pack of girls, dressed in a way that clearly screamed “I’m a tourist, please give me attention,” take seats scattered around the room, you knew this would be a long class. They were chatting loudly, condescending smiles on their faces and prissy postures to back it up. One of them locked eyes with you and stood up.

The girl scanned the room, perhaps trying to find something to shift the attention of the bustling and noisy class to her. Sitting beside you, Geto didn’t even flinch as the girl cleared her throat loudly. You could feel it. She was about to open her mouth.

And open it she did.

“Do you guys feel,” she addressed her fellow exchange people, “that the culture here is a bit… Well, I don’t know what you'd call it. Primitive, I guess? It’s like they just dug it up from some ancient ruins," she said, waving a hand dismissively, as if she were talking about a dusty artefact. “This whole— uhm— ‘honour’ thing? So outdated. I didn’t find any such codes on how to behave in the culture of the South, or the West, or the South-West. Maybe it is because the people here still need to be taught manners, I suppose.”

The other students, contrary to what she had hoped, didn’t pay any attention to her. They didn’t seem to have heard her, because if they had… well, all of them were from noble clans, of course they would have a problem with it.

The girl didn’t seem to notice. Or care.

“You there!” She screeched at you, coming to a halt in front of your desk after pacing around like she was delivering an important lecture. “I heard you’re the top student. Representative, or something, they told me. Like—” she turned to face you more directly, suddenly noticing the lack of a surname on your badge “—wow, you don’t even have a last name. I heard you were from the Gojo clan. But, I mean, you don’t even have their surname? Were you picked up from some ditch or something?”

You flushed. Most of the students were tactful enough to not point that out to you, and if they did, they would return with a bruise soon after, credit to Satoru. But Satoru was in the hospital wing right now, and thankfully so, because you didn’t want him making a scene here in the middle of your Charms class. Geto’s fingers brushed lightly against your arm; he was trying to calm you down. He didn’t need to say anything; you already knew what he was thinking.

Shoko, sitting in front of you, shifted in her seat. Her fingers twitched toward her coat pocket, and you could swear you felt a chill run down your spine at the look she had on her face. Shoko’s glare was murderous, and her hand slowly moved to her doctor’s tools — just a few inches away from hurling them at the girl’s smug face.

“Don’t bother,” Geto murmured under his breath. “Let her go on. She’s not worth the energy.” His eyes never left you as he spoke, a detached smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “Ignore her, Shoko.”

The girl leaned on your desk as you continued to determinedly stare at a spot on your notebook

“Oh, but wait,” she continued haughtily, “you must’ve been a mistake. I mean, the Gojo clan leaders, right? They couldn’t possibly have any sense of judgement, could they? Considering who their son is, who he’s raised by. They probably just took in anyone, huh? Just to fill the numbers. I bet they didn’t even care to see if you had any real worth.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Geto interrupted her calmly, his smile widening, a maddenned look in his eyes. “If you don’t stop right now, you might have to deal with a curse or two, because I’m not exactly one to be afraid of duelling in front of teachers.”

Alina was unfazed, leaning back in her chair with a smirk plastered across her face. “Oh, I so do. You can’t silence me. The Gojo clan is only famous because they have money and influence — nothing more.” She leaned forward again, her eyes narrowing. “And the leaders? They’re a joke. All that power, and they still let their precious son — what’s his name? Satoru? —play around like the child he is. Tell me, do you ever wonder if he’s actually good for anything besides being the ‘chosen one?’ Or is it just another piece of their precious family’s empire?”

No.

That was it.

You snapped. Your body moved before your brain could catch up. Pulling out your wand from your pocket, you let the cold tip touch her throat. The girl immediately shut up, caught off guard and not having the time to reach her own wand, which was kept on the table her friends were sitting at.

“What’s wrong? Can’t speak? I’d love to hear more from that croak of a voice you possess. Please, go on with your pathetic guesses about my lineage.”

“Don’t,” Geto warned, but you were too blinded by the ringing echo of her words about your family. Shoko was already gripping the side of her desk, looking like she wanted to step in.

“You want me to speak more?” The girl said. “I can speak more. Because I know what you are. I would have felt sorry for you if you weren’t so stuck up though. As they say, no power, no future.”

Before you could retort, or even say a quick charm to freeze her throat so it snapped in half, the door flew open, and a voice interrupted your anger.

"Both of you, in my office. Now."

It was the teacher, standing in the doorway, arms crossed, clearly fed up. Without missing a beat, you spun on your heel, flicking a glance at Geto and Shoko.

──── ୨ৎ ────

It was oddly quiet in the headmaster’s office. You sat alone at the desk, gloves pulled snug over your hands, a rag in one and a half-polished trophy in the other. The cleaning did little to distract you from the frustration you felt.

The headmaster’s words still rang in your ears: “Detention builds character, and perhaps a lesson in self-control will serve you well.”

Self-control. As if it was your fault someone had insulted your family.

The soft creak of the door interrupted your thoughts. You stilled, expecting the headmaster to return and scold you for slacking off. Instead, a familiar white head of hair peeked around the doorframe.

"What the—" you hissed. "Are you insane? If someone catches you here—"

“Wow. You, of all people, getting detention?”

Satoru leaned casually against the doorframe, his arms crossed and a lazy smirk on his face.

“What are you doing here?” you asked, your voice sharper than you intended.

“Came to pick you up,” he said, holding his hands up in mock surrender. “Kuro was freaking out because he didn’t know why we weren’t at the gates, so I told him to head home without us.”

“You didn’t have to—”

“Relax. He’s used to me pulling stuff like this.” Satoru strolled into the room, glancing around with mild interest before his eyes landed on the pile of trophies waiting to be polished. “So... what’s the story? Did you finally snap and hex someone?”

You rolled your eyes, turning back to the trophy in front of you. “Shouldn’t you be hiding somewhere? I mean, you’re not supposed to be here after school.”

“Oh, I’m cutting it. I figured detention with you would be more fun.”

You ignored him, hoping he’d get bored and leave, but Satoru was never one to take a hint. He perched on the edge of the desk beside you.

“Come on,” he said, nudging your arm lightly. “Tell me what happened.”

You bit the inside of your cheek, refusing to look at him. “Nothing. Just... a disagreement.”

“A disagreement?” he repeated, raising an eyebrow. “That’s all you’re giving me?”

You stayed silent, scrubbing furiously at a nonexistent smudge on the trophy. But your hands were shaking slightly, and he noticed.

His teasing expression softened. “Hey,” he said quietly, leaning closer and nuzzling your hair. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong,” you said quickly, but the crack in your voice betrayed you. You cursed under your breath, setting the trophy down harder than you intended.

“Right,” Satoru said dryly. “You know lying is a sin, right?”

Before you could stop him, he reached out and plucked the rag from your hand. You opened your mouth to protest, but he cut you off with a firm look.

“Enough,” he said, tossing the rag onto the desk. He grabbed your hands, tugging the gloves off gently, his touch warm and steady against your cold fingers.

“Satoru, what are you—”

“Helping,” he said simply.

You stared at him, your breath hitching slightly as he held your hands in his. His grip was firm but gentle, his thumbs brushing over your knuckles.

“You shouldn’t have done it,” he said after a moment, his voice quieter now. “Gotten detention, I mean.”

Your throat tightened, and you looked away. “I didn’t even do much. I just threatened her, ‘s all—”

“I know,” he said. “But you didn’t have to stand up for me like that.”

“Yes, I did.” The words came out sharper than you intended, but you didn’t care. “She had no right to talk about your family like that. Or mine,” you added quietly.

Satoru’s expression softened, and he sighed, letting go of your hands only to pull you into a hug. Your breath stopped. It was so sudden and unexpected, but his arms around you were so warm and secure, and for a moment, you forgot just how cold the office was.

“Thank you,” he murmured against your hair. “For putting us first.”

You swallowed hard, your face pressed against his shoulder. You could feel his heartbeat. His vanilla scent filled your nostrils, and you couldn’t help but sigh at the sensation.

Just what were you feeling?

He leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to the top of your head. The gesture was so gentle, so unexpected, that it sent a shiver down your spine. Goosebumps prickled along your arms, and your breath caught in your throat. Eyes widening on his chest.

Satoru pulled back slightly, his hands still resting lightly on your shoulders. He studied your face for a moment, his gaze searching, before giving you a small, crooked smile.

“Alright there?” he asked softly.

You nodded, not trusting yourself to speak. His smile widened, and he gave your shoulders a reassuring squeeze before stepping back.

“Good,” he said, picking up your gloves and the rag you had abandoned. “Because I think it’s my turn to polish these things. You’ve done enough.”

You blinked at him, confused. “You can’t just—”

“Too late.” He waved the rag dramatically, grinning. “Go sit down and relax. Perfect students need to take a break to be imperfect once in a while.”

Despite yourself, a smile tugged at the corners of your mouth. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Yeah, yeah.” He waved you off, already humming to himself as he began scrubbing.

──── ୨ৎ ────

You sat with your detention homework in your garden after the headmaster had insisted on giving you some more ‘punishments’ for letting Satoru in his office. On the stone bench, you glared at the crumpled detention slip in your hands. The words from earlier still rang in your ears.

Wow, you don’t even have a last name. I heard you were from the Gojo clan. But, I mean, you don’t even have their surname? Were you picked up from some ditch or something?

You must've been a mistake

The nerve of that girl, whatever her name was. She had no right to talk like that. But as much as you hated to admit it, her words dug deep. Why didn’t you have the surname? Why were you even here?

You sighed, staring down at your hands, throwing the slip away and watching it skid between bushes. The gate creaked, pulling you from your thoughts. Satoru’s mother stepped into the garden. She always seemed to know when something was wrong.

She smiled warmly as she approached. “Trouble at school?”

You let out a small huff, tossing the detention homework onto the bench. “Some girl decided to remind me I don’t belong here,” you muttered. “She’s not wrong. I mean, I don’t even have your family name. I’m just... here.”

Her expression softened, and she sat down beside you. “Suguru told me it was someone from the Kamo clan. She said that, did she?”

You nodded. “She made it sound like I’m just some random stray you all picked up out of pity.”

A shadow flickered across her face, but she stayed silent for a moment, as if weighing her words carefully. Then she sighed softly and folded her hands neatly in her lap. “You don’t carry the Gojo surname yet because... you aren’t meant to. One day, you will.”

You were confused. “One day? What are you talking about?”

Her gaze softened further, and she reached for your hand. “You’re not here because of pity. You’re here because I care for you deeply. You’re family to me. And... well, you’re engaged, my dear. To Satoru.”

The words hit you like a thunderclap. “Engaged?” you whispered.

She nodded gently. “It was my decision. Not to strengthen ties or fulfill some tradition — I couldn’t bear the thought of marrying you off to anyone else. You’re important to me, and to this family. No one else would cherish you the way you deserve. No one else would love you the way I know he can.”

Your head was spinning. Engaged? To Satoru? The same Satoru who stole your dessert, teased you relentlessly, and drove you up the wall with his arrogance?

“Does he know?” you managed to ask.

A small, amused smile tugged at her lips. “Not yet. I’m waiting for the right time to tell him. You know how he is — he’d probably react with some ridiculous joke or dismiss it entirely without thinking it through.”

You groaned, burying your face in your hands. “You mean I’m supposed to sit on this bombshell while he’s running around like an overgrown child?”

She chuckled softly, reaching over to pat your shoulder. “It’s not so bad. You’ve already grown close to him, haven’t you?”

Close. You couldn’t deny it. In the past few years, you had gone from tolerating his antics to — well, something. The butterflies in your stomach betrayed you every time he smiled or stood too close.

But this? This was too much.

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” you asked weakly, peeking through your fingers.

“I wanted you to have time to figure out your feelings without the weight of this hanging over you,” she admitted. “And... I wasn’t entirely sure when you’d be ready to hear it. But seeing you upset, questioning your place here, I couldn’t keep it from you any longer. Forgive me, darling.” She stood then. “You’re exactly where you’re meant to be,” she said gently. “Never let anyone make you doubt that.”

And with that, she disappeared back into the house, leaving you alone with the truth.

Engaged. To Satoru.

The butterflies in your stomach weren’t just fluttering now—they were staging a full-on rebellion. You let out a groan, slumping back against the bench.

──── ୨ৎ ────

Over a year had passed. The two of you were turning seventeen the next year, and with the increase in your age, the load of schoolwork increased too. The School of Royalty had seen so many changes. They were rebuilding the duelling grounds and organising even more clubs than before. Girls were mysteriously beginning to drop out of school, and you didn’t want to know why. There were less than ten girls in your class of fifty, and you figured this number would reduce even more as women in nobility were hurriedly married off to distant kingdoms, forced to give up their education to serve as a showpiece for the men to flaunt.

You were thankful the Gojo clan saw you as more than that, or you wouldn’t have been in the same class as your friends this year. You couldn’t bear not seeing Utahime, Shoko, Suguru and of course, Satoru.

Satoru.

The one you had realized you didn’t want if he wasn’t looking at you at all times, if he wasn’t talking to you at all times, or cracking jokes to you at all times. The one you had realized you wanted more of, more than what the two of you are now, more than what you two have ever been, more than friends, more than best friends; you wanted him more than anything in the world. Him, him, him, him. You wanted his eyes on you, his hands on you. You wanted everything about him. Everything. Every single thing—

“Hey, you alive?” His voice snapped you back to reality.

“Huh? Oh yeah.”

“I was saying,” he pulled a girl towards him by her hands and she landed on his chest with a dull thump. “This is Alina.”

You stared at her. Triumphant looking face, lips giggling into the broad layer of his front.

Wait.Wasn’t she—?

“You might remember her,” Satoru pressed. You did. Vividly.

Oh.

“She needs some duelling practice apparently, so she’s gonna be watching us from there,” he points at the stands. “Hope you don’t mind.”

“Oh, yeah, it’s okay,” you said in a voice you didn’t know you owned. The words felt so heavy on your tongue, as if it was an entirely different person speaking them. 

“Great, thanks,” he ushered the girl back to the stands and leaned down to kiss the top of your forehead again. You blinked.

Oh, no, he didn’t see it like that at all.To him, it was just a gesture he had grown used to doing. Yeah.

You stood across from him on the training field, your stance ready and tense. The sunlight was bright today, almost too bright, and you didn’t know if it was the heat or the sudden emptiness you felt. Satoru smiled at you, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“You ready?” he asked, voice nonchalant. It wasn’t the usual teasing edge. The spark was missing.

You nodded.

“I’ve got you today, Gojo,” you tried making the dumb jokes he used to make. You weren’t sure if it was working, but you tried anyway.

The sparring session started, but something felt wrong. Satoru’s movements were slower than usual, his focus elsewhere. He kept glancing at the stands from time to time, as if trying to see if she was watching him. He didn’t block your attack in time, letting you knock him down with ease.

“You alright?” You bent down to help him up, but he just waved you off, a tight smile on his face.

“Yeah, yeah. Just… tired, I guess,” he shrugged, avoiding your eyes.

Alina came running down the stands, her hands clutched on her chest, fussing over him while he waved her off too, getting up.

“Another one?” “No, thank you.”

That was the first time you had ever said no to him.

──── ୨ৎ ────

Later that week, you walked into the cafeteria, hoping to find Utahime and grab a quick meal before your History class. You were halfway into the queue before you realized Utahime had Charms class right now. After all, she was a senior of yours; she would have more schoolwork than you. So you were about to take the tray you got to one of the empty tables alone, hoping to find someone else.

And you did find someone. Satoru sat across from Alina as comfortable as ever. They looked like they were on a date. Was this why he had skipped a class he had with you?

“Oh, hey,” he greeted you when you approached, but his voice lacked its usual warmth. There was a coolness in it, like he wasn’t really there.

The girl’s voice broke into the silence, bright and too eager. “I was just telling Satoru about how I’m finally starting to get the hang of wand control now. I know he’s been busy with other stuff, but he’s still managed to help me out.”

You felt the hairs on your neck prickle.

“That's great,” you said, keeping your tone neutral. “I'm sure Satoru is happy to help.”

You tried to keep your expression even as you sat down on their table. Wrong choice. Satoru, oblivious or indifferent, didn’t seem to notice any sort of tension in the air. He smiled, nodding along to whatever the girl was saying, while you forced a smile and picked at your food.

You felt like an outsider.

──── ୨ৎ ────

That same week, after a banquet of the noble families held at the Gojo clan’s immaculate residence, you were walking alone towards the girls’ dorms when you overheard two voices seemingly arguing calmly. You pressed an ear onto the door hiding the people.

“You don’t seem to realize your Alina is the same girl who was insulting your own family,” Suguru was saying. “She got us into trouble too. You weren’t there so you don’t know how bad she talked about—”

“I know she’s not like how she was before,” Satoru interrupted loudly. “And I know you guys still have a problem with her, but you’ve got to trust me, okay? She’s changed.”

Your heart sank. “Changed?” Suguru repeated bitterly. “Really? After everything she said about the Gojo clan?”

He didn’t reply right away, but when he finally spoke, it was with that soft, almost apologetic tone.

“I get it. I really do. But she’s… trying, okay? She’s not the same person.”

You clenched your jaw, your hands trembling slightly at your sides. You felt numb all over. Uprooting one leg from your position, you walked backwards, away from your heartbreak.

“I don’t know if I can believe that, Satoru. Not after everything she did.” “I know, but please. Try, for me?”

Your back hit the pillar and you stopped. Slowly lifting feet one after the other, you walked. You didn’t know where you were walking to, but you just walked. You didn’t know what hurt more: the fact that he was asking you to trust her, or the fact that you wanted to — because you trusted him so much.

“There you are!” Utahime caught up to you. “Where did you go? How can you get lost in your own house—” You lifted your face up to her, and she looked taken aback. She inhaled, wiping tears you never realized started falling after stinging your eyes so bad, and she asked in an uncharacteristically soft voice. “Baby, what’s wrong?”

“Utahime—” your voice broke.

──── ୨ৎ ────

You were walking down the school halls, your mind preoccupied with your own thoughts as you made your way to the classroom. The noise of chatter and the shuffle of students faded into the background, making you realize you were starting to zone out again. You seemed to do that a lot these days.

“And I just know it will be you!” Alina’s voice cut through, syrupy, too sweet to be sincere. You froze, stopping behind a pillar. They were standing conveniently near the same path you had to cross to get to your class. Great. Now you had to bite back any snide remarks you had because poor Satoru would be upset if you didn’t.

You peeked out. Alina was leaning against the wall, her laughter light and airy as she spoke to Satoru, who was right beside her, looking at her with that familiar, careless smile he used to reserve for you, one that you had now grown to hate.

You could hear her complimenting him, the way she laughed too loudly at every word of his. “Oh, Satoru, your technique today was amazing, as always! I honestly don’t know just how you do it.” Her tone was sugary, and you cringed. You wanted to look away, but something held you in place, as if some invisible force was gripping you to that spot, making you watch the scene in front of you with red eyes and darkness underneath them.

Then you heard his voice. “Come on, Alina, you’re making me blush,” he chuckled playfully. He was oblivious, as usual (or maybe he wasn’t, and he truly trusted this woman more than his friends). But you weren’t. You noticed how her hands lingered on his arm a little too long, how her fingers curled around his sleeve possessively.

You couldn’t breathe.

You turned, hoping to slip past unnoticed, but of course, she caught sight of you. There was a flicker of something dark in her eyes before she forced a smile onto her face, calling out in that voice that made your skin crawl.

“Oh, hey!” she chirped, calling out your name. “You don’t mind sharing, do you?”

The words hit you like a slap. You were caught between disbelief and anger. How dare she speak to you like that? You glanced at Satoru, hoping he would interject, but he didn’t. He was too busy focusing his attention on her like a complete idiot.

You looked down at the floor, clenching your teeth. “You can have him,” you muttered. You didn’t want to show her how much it hurt, but it was all too clear in your voice and actions.

Alina’s smile faltered for a split second, her eyes narrowing. “Oh, are you sure?” she said, “I’m sure Satoru wouldn’t mind at all. He’s such a generous guy.”

You could hear her subtle challenge, the way she was almost daring you to react. But you didn’t give her the satisfaction. Instead, you straightened up, forcing the words out with a calmness you didn’t feel.

“I’m sure,” you said simply. Not waiting for a response, you turned on your heel and walked away as quickly as you could, your heart pounding in your chest.

Behind you, you could feel her eyes on your back, but you refused to turn around.

You hated her. You hated the way she acted so confident. You hated how she was so entitled. And you hated how Satoru, in all his charm and glory, refused to hear a word against her; how he couldn’t see the way she was trying to wedge herself between not only the two of you but also your entire friend group.

It was always this way, wasn’t it? The more you wanted him, the farther he seemed to slip out of reach.

──── ୨ৎ ────

After a three hour long soak in your bathtub, you decided it was time to go back into your room without anyone noticing. You spent most of your time hiding away from everyone; your parents, your servants, and him anyway, so you doubted anyone would miss you. With a sigh, you wore your nightdress and pushed your bedroom door open.

Satoru was sitting on your bed, his chin in his palms as he stared at the floor, clearly deep in thought and waiting for you to return. The moment you walked in, his gaze snapped to you, and the tension in the room tripled.

“You’re back,” he said. There was something in his voice — you couldn’t point out what exactly it was, but you didn’t like how it made you feel.

“What are you doing in my room?” The words came out harsher than you had intended them to be.

He didn’t answer right away; just sighed heavily, rubbing a hand over his face before standing up and facing you fully. “Why are you always so mean to her?” His voice was quieter now, more frustrated than usual.

You blinked, taken aback. "Mean to whom?" you asked, trying to play dumb.

“Alina,” he said. “Why do you always treat her like that?”

You controlled the urge to roll your eyes, though you knew Satoru expected you to. You wanted to scream, but you held it back, just barely. “Oh, you mean the girl who’s been constantly hovering around you? The one who acts like she owns you?” You crossed your arms defensively. “Sorry, I didn’t realize I was supposed to cheer her on and clap for every little thing she does.”

Satoru scoffed, taking his face in his hands before looking up again. “You don’t have to be so cold all the time! Can’t you just try to get along with her? She’s changed. Why can’t you just see that?”

“Changed?” You couldn’t stop yourself from laughing at his innocence. “She’s the same girl who insulted your family. She insulted everything you stand for, everything you care about, and you think she’s changed? Are you seriously that blind?”

His eyes darkened, and he gritted his teeth. “You’re always so hung up on the past! Why can’t you just move on?”

You shot him a look, disbelief swirling in your chest. “Move on?” Your voice was shaking with the effort of holding back everything you wanted to say. “Why is it that you’re the only person who sees that she has changed? Why is it that everyone else around you swears she hasn’t?”

Satoru didn’t respond right away. Then, he took a deep breath in, as if it was taking every bone in his body to control his emotions to hit you at that very moment. “Why do you care so much? Why can’t you just give her a chance?” he asked, almost pleading with you.

You stared at him for a moment too long. “Because,” you bit back, “She’s using you. And you’re too caught up in your own world to even see it.”

He took a step toward you, voice rising now. “That’s not true! She’s not using me! She—”

You threw your hands up in frustration. “You don’t get it, do you?” You were shouting now. “She is using you, Satoru! And I’m the one who’s supposed to stand here and watch while you defend her? While you act like she’s some saint who’s done nothing wrong?”

Satoru’s patience snapped, and his expression hardened. He couldn’t stand anymore of you making assumptions about her anymore. “You don’t even belong in this house! Why do you think you have a say in anything I’m doing? You’re not even part of this!” He took a step toward you, his eyes dark with anger, a final insult.

The words hit you like a punch to the gut, and for a moment, you couldn’t breathe. The blood drained from your face as everything came crashing down around you.

“Oh,” was all you managed to say, your voice barely a whisper as your eyes filled with tears. You couldn’t speak. You couldn’t even look at him. You felt your heart shatter into a thousand pieces in your chest.

Satoru’s expression faltered, but it was too late now.

“Leave,” you whispered through gritted teeth.

He hesitated for a second, looking like he wanted to say something more. But he didn’t. With a sharp breath, he turned and walked toward the door.

The second the door slammed shut behind him, you collapsed onto your bed, your hands clutching at the sheets as sobs wracked your body. You cried harder than you ever had before — louder, deeper, until you felt like you couldn’t breathe. Your chest ached with every gasp, every sob, the pain of his words echoing in your mind.

You don’t even belong in this house!

He was right.

You don’t even have their surname? Were you picked up from some ditch?

She was right.

It is the spawn of Satan himself!

They were all right, all absolutely right, weren’t they?

Come with me, daughter.

It was a lie.

You know I won’t leave you.

Lie.

She doesn’t need some random guy when she’s got me.

Lie, lie, lie!

You know lying is a sin, right?

You clutched your chest hard. You didn’t know how long you cried, but when the tears finally stopped, all that remained was emptiness. A hollow space where something you had always held onto seemed to disappear.

──── ୨ৎ ────

“What are you doing here?” you asked coldly.

He shrugged, his usual smirk flickering to life. “Just passing by.”

“Passing by my room?” you shot back, though your voice was devoid of any emotion.

He rubbed the back of his neck, looking almost sheepish. “Maybe… I wanted to talk.”

“What do you want?”

He hesitated, just for a moment, before forcing a laugh. “I don’t know. How are the studies? Still out to prove you’re the best in the room?”

Your expression didn’t change, and the awkwardness between you grew even more.

“Also,” he chuckled nervously, “what did you say to Utahime? I was almost killed thrice in the last two days.”

“If you don’t have anything important to say, Gojo, move.” You stepped past him, unlocking your door. You had begun locking it since the incident that night, to avoid him sneaking in when you were away and to avoid anyone walking in on you bawling your eyes out, trying to drown the repetitive voices in your head with theories about spells and charms.

“Why are you being like this?” His voice stopped you. He paused, watching you fiddle with the lock, clearly taking the hesitating actions as a cue to continue. “Like… like you don’t care.” His eyes finally met yours, and for a moment, they weren’t the Satoru you knew. There was no smugness, no teasing — just guilt.

You bit the inside of your cheek to keep your voice steady. “You’re imagining things,” you said, pushing the door open.

“Am I?” His tone sharpened, and he took a step closer. “You’ve been avoiding me for weeks. You won’t even look at me.”

“Maybe I have nothing to say to you,” you replied, turning to him to see his expression one last time before sorrow overtook your senses again.

His shoulders were stiffened, and for the first time this night, he couldn’t meet your gaze.

“That’s what I thought,” you said, your voice quieter now. “You know exactly why, Satoru. You just don’t want to admit it.”

He ran a hand through his hair, his frustration evident. “I didn’t mean it,” he said finally, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Goodnight, Satoru,” you said, slamming the door in his face before he could say anything else.

The silence that followed was deafening, and on the other side of the door, he lingered. You waited, holding your breath as you leaned against the wood, but no sound came.

And just like that, the distance between you grew wider.

──── ୨ৎ ────

Your school year was nearing the end, and summer was around the corner. The days before that had been a blur. You had avoided Satoru like the plague, throwing yourself deeper into your books and classes. Even your classmates had noticed the change, though none dared to bring it up to your face.

Except for Shoko.

“Are you okay?” she asked one afternoon, cornering you in the library.

“I’m fine,” you lied, not looking up from your Curses: A Guide to Identify the Weakness book.

“No, you’re not.” She pulled up a chair, crossing her arms as she stared at you. “You’re avoiding him, he’s avoiding everyone, and the rest of us are stuck in the middle of whatever this is.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you said flatly.

She groaned, leaning back in her chair. “You’re lucky this is me and not Utahime. Just so you know, he sent a message.”

That caught your attention. Slowly, you closed your book and looked at her. “What message?”

“He said he’s done with Alina,” Shoko said softly. “Said he wouldn’t talk to her anymore.”

“Why are you telling me this?” you asked quietly.

“Because,” Shoko said, standing up, “you’re both being stupid. And I’m sick of watching my friends tear themselves apart over something that could be fixed with one honest conversation.”

“Honest conversation?” you repeated bitterly. “What’s there to say? He made his priorities clear, Shoko.”

“Did he?” She raised an eyebrow, leaning closer. “Or did you just decide that for him because you’re too scared to hear what he actually thinks?”

Your jaw tightened. “You weren’t there, Shoko. You didn’t hear the things he said.”

“You’re right, I wasn’t. But I’ve seen how miserable he’s been these past few weeks,” she countered. “He won’t say it, but he’s been beating himself up about it. He knows he messed up.”

“And what about me?!” you snapped, your voice harsher than you intended. “I’m supposed to just forget everything? Pretend like I wasn’t the one he hurt?”

Shoko sighed, her expression softening. “No. But you’re not giving him a chance to make it right. He’s been trying to talk to you — hell, he even took all the hits heroically when Utahime nearly ripped him apart.”

You blinked, caught off guard. “Utahime — what?”

“Oh, yeah,” Shoko said. “She had a few choice words for him. Might’ve included running him over by her carriage horses. Not my place to repeat them, but let’s just say she wasn’t thrilled with how he handled things.”

Despite yourself, a small, bitter smile tugged at your lips. “Good for her.”

“Look,” Shoko said, softening her tone again, “you don’t have to forgive him right away. But at least talk to him. He’s done with Alina, and it’s obvious you’re not over him. Don’t let this thing between you two fester any longer.”

You stared at her for a long moment, her words sinking in despite the stubborn walls you’d built around yourself. “I’ll think about it,” you said finally.

“Good,” Shoko said with a satisfied nod. “Just… don’t take too long. We’re not kids forever, you know.”

──── ୨ৎ ────

The knock on Satoru’s bedroom door felt louder than you intended. You had rehearsed this moment in your mind a dozen times already. What were you supposed to say again?

Hey. It’s me. Haha.

No no no. Hey, how have you been?

No, ugh. Hey, nice weather?

Still, when the door opened and his bright blue eyes met yours, every word you had prepared seemed to vanish. The two of you only stared at each other, he in surprise and you in embarrassment.

“Hey,” he said, trying to break the silence.

“Hey,” you replied, your voice barely above a whisper.

The silence stretched between you for a moment before he stepped aside, gesturing for you to come in. You did, though your fingers fidgeted nervously at your sides.

The room looked messy. The bedsheets were sprawled around as if he had been tossing and turning all night earlier. The curtains were closed so the room was in utter darkness. Yet, you needed no amount of light to see the look of sleep-deprivation he carried on his face.

Was it because of you? Because you had acted this way? Was it because he was regretting what he said to you earlier (he should, a voice in your head said, but you pushed it away)? Or was he failing his classes again? His stream was different from yours so you couldn’t meet him in school either. Or was it perhaps because of—

“I was—” you both started at the same time, cutting each other off awkwardly.

You let out a breathy laugh, and for the first time in weeks, his lips pulled upward, a glimmer of the boy you knew. “You first,” he offered, stepping closer.

“I was going to say that I…” Your words faltered as he reached for your hand. His fingers, warm and tentative, brushed yours before interlocking gently. “Oh. Wow.” He smiled at you, pulling you closer to kiss the top of your head. “I missed this,” you admitted finally, your voice breaking slightly.

“I’m sorry,” he said immediately, softer than you had expected him to be. “For everything. For being such a—”

A sudden knock interrupted him, and a servant’s voice called from the hall. “Young Master, Miss — Madam requests your presence in the meeting room immediately.”

Satoru groaned under his breath, but you let go of his hand, smiling as well now. “We’ll talk later,” you murmured, turning to leave.

The Gojo clan’s meeting room was one thing, but the Gojo family’s meeting room felt even more imposing. High ceilings, ornate woodwork, and an air of superiority — that was the only way anyone could describe it. Mother and Father sat at the head of the low table, their expressions unreadable.

“You’re here,” his father said. He gestured for you and Satoru to sit, and you did, sitting in a formal position with your hands on your knees, feet touching the soft pillow under you. His mother only nodded at both of you. “We’ve received an invitation from the Kamo Clan.”

Kamo Clan? You had read about a legend of theirs in your history class. A man who had dropped himself to the bottom of the hells indulging with curses to create powerful heirs. The Kamo Clan had an awful reputation — ancient, powerful, and, if rumours were to be believed, sinister.

Beside you, you felt Satoru stiffen, and whisper only one word.

“Alina?”

Of course! How could you have forgotten that? The girl who had been plaguing your school ever since she set foot in it was Kamo Alina. Suddenly, what his father said didn’t matter anymore. The way his mother was staring between you and him didn’t matter anymore. What was about to happen in his room that time didn’t matter.

“The banquet,” Satoru’s father continued, and it took a lot of effort from you to keep listening, “is an exclusive gathering of noble families from across the globe. It will take place in the south, and attendance is mandatory for representatives of our house.”

You gathered the courage to steal a glance at Satoru’s expression. The look on his face was enough to tell you he wasn’t surprised by the connection. He knew. He had known it all this time. Your hands curled into fists under the table, your nails biting into your palms, probably leaving marks too.

His mother’s voice said coolly. “Prepare yourselves. You’ll leave at the end of the week. Dismissed.”

You didn’t wait for Satoru as you stood abruptly, your pillow gliding across the floor. You made your way back to your room, trying not to look back at his face, but you didn’t make it far before he caught up with you.

“Wait!” He grabbed your arm, spinning you around to face him. “It’s not what you think.”

You yanked your arm free, glaring at him. “It’s not what I think? Really, Gojo? Because I think you lied to me.”

“I didn’t—”

“You said you weren’t in contact with her!” you snapped.

“I’m not! This isn’t me — it’s her family. They’re the ones—”

“Oh, so her family conveniently sends in an invitation to us to attend their stupid gathering at somehow the right time?”

“I don’t know? Look,” He ran a hand through his hair in frustration, not at you, no, but at that darn family. “I told you, I’m not in contact with her. That is the truth. I haven’t spoken to her since—”

“Since when?” you interrupted, stepping closer. “Since you told Shoko you were done? Or since you got caught? Because it feels like right now, I’m finding out the actual truth.”

“That is not the truth, please just list—”

“Stop,” you cut him off. You had had enough. “It’s okay. I don’t know why you think I even care. I ‘don’t belong here’, remember?”

“That’s not what I meant!” he shouted, his voice echoing in the empty hallway.

You stepped back, shaking your head with a sigh. “Don’t follow me.”

“Please,” he pleaded, his voice softer now, desperate. But you didn’t look back as you turned and headed for the courtyard, away from him and his stupid, stupid noble traditions.

──── ୨ৎ ────

The journey to the Southern estate was agonisingly long, but then again, you were from the East, and crossing entire landmarks took more than weeks by unruly waters. After the travel on the Gojo estate’s huge ship, your family was met with a stout, snotty man representing the Kamo clan, in charge of dropping you to their estate by comfortable carriages. The carriage rocked back and forth, and the countryside unfolded before you, but you couldn’t bring yourself to appreciate any of it. Your focus remained on the window, your reflection glaring back at you. Anything to avoid looking at him.

Satoru sat beside you, arms crossed and foot tapping impatiently against the carriage floor. The silence was so oppressive it practically screamed at both of you to make up already. His mother sat across from you, but her usual composed expression faltered slightly as she glanced between you and her son.

After what felt like an eternity, Satoru let out an exaggerated sigh, his head lolling back against the seat. "Are you seriously going to do this the whole trip?"

You didn’t move. “Do what?”

“This,” he said, waving a hand vaguely in your direction. “Acting like I don’t exist.”

“I’m not acting,” you replied coldly. “You’re still breathing, aren’t you?”

He bristled at your tone, his foot tapping faster. “Wow. Real mature.”

You didn’t dignify that with a response, instead shifting slightly in your seat to angle yourself even farther away from him. The silence returned, heavier now, and his mother finally cleared her throat, breaking it.

“Is everything all right?” she asked delicately, her eyes lingering on you longer.

“Yes,” you answered quickly, too quickly. “Everything’s fine.”

Her brow lifted slightly, but she said nothing, her gaze darting to her son. He sat rigid, his jaw clenched as he poked his head out of his own window, refusing to meet her eyes.

“Fine,” Satoru muttered after a beat, as if to echo you. His tone was harsh, though he didn’t look at either of you.

His mother’s lips pressed into a thin line, but she didn’t press further. The realisation seemed to dawn on her that her carefully curated plans for her son’s life — whatever they might be — were starting to crack at the seams.

Satoru’s foot finally stilled, but his irritation hadn’t seemed to disappear yet. After another stretch of unbearable silence, he tried again, his voice softer this time. "Look, I’m not going to apologize for something I didn’t do.”

“Good thing I’m not expecting one, then.”

He groaned, running a hand through his hair. “Can you at least try to meet me halfway here? This is ridiculous.”

You finally turned to look at him. “What’s ridiculous is pretending any of this matters. I shouldn’t even be here, right? So why don’t you just—”

“That’s enough,” his mother cut in, her tone sharper than you had ever heard it. Her gaze pinned you both in place. “We’re almost there. I suggest you both compose yourselves before we arrive.”

You bit the inside of your cheek, retreating back into silence, but not before catching the slight smirk on Satoru’s face. It wasn’t amusement, though — it was frustration barely held in check. He didn’t say another word, leaning back against the seat and staring resolutely at the ceiling as the carriage rocked along. You pressed your lips together and turned back to the window.

That was when you saw it.

The estate loomed in the distance, its dark silhouette framed against the dusky sky. It wasn’t grand in the way the Gojo mansion was. No, this place had an oddly familiar air of foreboding. Its high walls and shadowed towers looked like they were whispering secrets and things long forgotten in history. The closer you got, the more a strange chill settled over you, prickling the back of your neck.

Goosebumps ran down your arms as the carriage rolled closer. The gates opened with an almost eerie slowness. There was billowing mist surrounding the entire area, and it made the scene even more creepy. You couldn’t explain it, but something about this place just felt… wrong. It wasn’t just the estate’s imposing presence or the way the evening light seemed to bend around it — it was something you couldn’t place at all.

You felt like something bad, really bad was going to happen here, or perhaps had already happened. A chill ran down your spine when you recalled the pages of absolute horror you had seen attached to the restricted books in your library, and their vibes seemed to match that of this place.

Beside you, Satoru shifted uncomfortably. You glanced at him for a moment and saw that his confident facade had slipped. His eyes lingered on the estate, as if trying to figure out just what it was that made the place seem so uncanny and unreal, like it was something straight out of a horror novel.

As the carriage came to a stop, his mother stepped out first, poised as ever. She didn’t seem fazed by the oppressive air of the place, but then again, she rarely showed any cracks in her demeanour.

You followed, your legs unsteady as they hit the gravel path. The chill hadn’t left you, clung to your skin. Satoru came last, his usual swagger dimmed.

“Remember,” his mother murmured as the servants approached, her voice low and pointed, “appearances are everything. Do try not to embarrass the family.”

You nodded stiffly, but deep down, all you could think about was how much you wanted to leave this place. Sighing and ignoring the tremble of your gut, you held your own hands and entered the estate.

The estate’s grand entrance hall was vast, its high ceilings decorated with intricate wooden carvings that spiralled into ominous shapes. A line of servants stood on either side, their heads bowed low in synchronised precision. “Welcome to the Kamo estate,” they chanted together, their voices echoing.

A servant stepped forward, addressing Satoru’s father (and not batting an eye to his mother) with an apologetic tone. “We regret to inform you that our — that is, the Kamo clan’s — leaders could not greet you in person. Urgent matters required their immediate attention, but they send their sincerest apologies and look forward to meeting you tomorrow.”

Satoru’s father met his wife’s eyes, and she nodded curtly, and the servant's eyes widened as if he realised the error he made by ignoring her and addressing only the male leader in your group. “It is of no consequence,” she replied coolly.

As the servants moved to escort you all further inside, you couldn’t help but glance around. The estate was undeniably grand, but there was something cold and uninviting about it. The polished marble floors gleamed under flickering chandeliers, and the thick, musty air clung to your skin. It felt more like a mausoleum than a home.

The servants led you through endless corridors, the silence broken only by the sound of footsteps on stone. Every now and then, you passed ornate doors or shadowy alcoves, each one looking more foreboding than the last. You tried to shake the feeling of being watched, but the creeping sensation never left.

Eventually, they stopped in front of a door, and the servant gestured to it with a bow. “This will be your room,” he said before retreating with the others.

You stepped inside hesitantly. The room was smaller, far removed from where they were escorting Satoru now, and you had a feeling his would be uncomfortably close to Alina’s. The room was smaller, colder, and had an air of neglect, as if it hadn’t been opened in years. Dust coated the surfaces, and the faint scent of damp wood lingered in the air. There were faint scratches on the walls as if someone had clawed at them long ago. The wallpaper had started peeling in places, and the furniture looked untouched, as though someone had decided only yesterday to disturb the fifteen year old cobwebs. The architecture, the layout, even the faint smell of mildew — it was unsettlingly familiar, though you couldn’t quite place why.

Satoru’s mother appeared behind you. She took one look around the room, and her eyebrows twitched into a carefully concealed scowl. “Well,” she said. “This is... quaint, to say the least.”

You turned to face her, unsure of how to respond. She gestured vaguely at the room, the bare walls, the dull, muted colours. ��If you find this unsuitable, arrangements can be made. I’m sure a clan as proud as Kamo wouldn’t want their guests to feel...” She paused, her lips curling in distaste, “uncomfortable.”

You swallowed hard, shaking your head. “No, mother,” you said, forcing a polite smile. “This is fine.”

Her brow arched, as though she didn’t quite believe you, but she didn’t press. “As you wish,” she said softly, turning on her heel and leaving without another word.

The door closed behind her with a heavy thud, and the silence of the room enveloped you. You exhaled slowly, taking in the sparse furnishings, the musty air. You hated the idea of being a burden, but now, as you sat on the bed, watching it creak loudly, you wondered if you had made a mistake.

Late that night, you lay on the bed, staring at the ceiling, trying to get yourself to sleep.

“One sheep, two sheep, three sheep—”

What would he be doing right now? Was he still upset?

“Fuck, lost count again.” You sighed loudly. This was probably the sixth time you had tried but failed to sleep. All because of him. You closed your eyes tightly to try again.

“One sheep, two sh—”

Shit. Nature’s call.

You widened your eyes and glanced at the door, dreading the thought of stepping out into the pitch-black halls of the manor. Your room didn’t even have a washroom, which seemed absurd for a house of this size and considering who it belonged to. Clenching your jaw, you tried to distract yourself from the pressure in your bladder by examining the room, but there was nothing to look at. No paintings, no books, no trinkets — just plain walls and dull furniture.

With a sigh, you finally pushed yourself up, deciding to find a maid to help you find the washroom. You lit a candelabrum sitting next to your bed to help you navigate the area. The hallway was dimly lit, the flickering lights casting eerie shadows across the walls. You tried to stay calm, but every creak of the floorboards beneath your feet made you jump. 

You walked, and walked, and walked. The layout of the house was like a maze in itself, and every turn seemed to lead to another identical hallway. Within the span of minutes, you found yourself descending a set of stairs you didn’t remember seeing before.

The air grew colder. The scent of damp stone and decay was thick in your nostrils. You paused at the bottom of the staircase, realizing with a jolt of horror that you were in what looked like the basement of the manor. The little light coming from your candles barely illuminated the space.

A wave of nausea hit you. The place smelled like dead rats, but somehow, despite your lack of sight in the room, a lot of scenes seemed to cross your mind. Shadows in the halls. Muffled screams. The overwhelming fear of being dragged into this very basement to be punished for something you couldn’t understand. Your eyes caught on the walls, and you lifted your candelabrum up and stepped closer. There were faint marks carved into the stone. Tally marks. Dozens of them. Maybe hundreds.

Your hand reached out, trembling, brushing against the ridges. A flash of a memory hit you — your hand gripping a piece of stone fully covered in blood, dragging it across a surface, one line after another. But where had it been? In a classroom, on the board? No — this was something else, something darker. Your stomach twisted, and you stumbled back, the nausea overwhelming.

“Miss?” A voice shattered the silence, and you whipped around to see a maid standing at the top of the staircase. Her face was pale, her brows furrowed, as if you had offended every fibre of her body by stepping down into this basement. “What are you doing down here?”

You opened your mouth to answer, but no words came out. The smell of the basement, the tally marks, the scenes — they clung to you, and you could only shake your head.

“Let me escort you back to your room. You shouldn’t ever be here”

You nodded mutely, following her up the stairs. She led you back through the winding halls. By the time you reached your room, the trembling in your legs had mostly subsided, though the chill of the basement still remained. She opened the door for you, offering a rigid nod before disappearing back into the dark hallways. You stepped inside, closing the door behind you, and exhaled shakily.

Your hands were still trembling slightly as you sat on the edge of the bed, trying to steady your breathing. The scenes — fragmented, disjointed — played on a loop in your mind. What were they? Forgotten memories? Flashbacks? The tally marks, the muffled screams. They were just like something out of your worst nightmares. You buried your face in your hands, feeling the sting of tears prickling at your eyes.

A soft knock at the door startled you. You hastily wiped your eyes, rising to your feet. When you opened it, Satoru’s mother stood there. Her expression softened slightly when she saw you.

“You’ve been crying,” she said matter-of-factly.

“I’m fine,” you said quickly, stepping aside to let her in.

She swept into the room, her gaze flickering briefly to the empty, barren space. “This room is unacceptable,” she said bluntly. But then, as she turned to face you, something in her eyes looked gentler, almost human — something she had always carried around you. “You should have asked for it to be changed, darling.”

You shook your head. “I didn’t want to be a bother. It’s fine, really.”

Her lips pressed into a thin line, and for a moment, she studied you. Then, to your surprise, she stepped closer, her hands resting lightly on your shoulders. “You’re far too used to accepting the minimal,” she said quietly. “That’s not what you deserve.”

You blinked, startled by the tenderness in her tone. Before you could respond, she leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, her cool hand lingering briefly against your cheek. The gesture was so unexpected, so maternal, that your throat tightened with emotion.

“I will speak to the servants in the morning,” she said, straightening but not pulling away. “And if you ever feel uncomfortable — ever — you will tell me. Do you understand?”

You nodded wordlessly, unable to trust your voice.

“Good.” She adjusted the edge of your sleeve with a small, practised motion, as if tidying you was a second nature for her. “Get some rest. You look exhausted.”

She turned to leave but paused at the door, glancing back over her shoulder. “And whatever it is that has you so unsettled tonight... I will see to it. Do not let it weigh on your mind. The past has a way of creeping into the present, but you are stronger than it.”

The door closed softly behind her, leaving you standing in the middle of the room.

For the first time since you had arrived at the estate, you felt a sliver of comfort.

──── ୨ৎ ────

Over the next week, your efforts to blend in with the household paid off in more ways than one. Most of the maids, initially wary of you as a noble guest, had warmed up to your presence. They appreciated your willingness to help with menial tasks and often joked that you were more reliable than some of their own peers. Soon enough, their dislike for the Kamo family began to slip into their conversations.

It started one evening when you were helping two maids, Haru and Tomoko, carry water from the wells. They spoke in hushed voices, glancing around nervously as though the courtyard’s walls themselves might eavesdrop.

“I’ve always said the Kamo family has skeletons in their closet,” Haru muttered. “Well, in this case, they’re probably in the basement. You’ve seen it, haven’t you?”

You nodded. “I have. It’s disturbing. What were those tally marks on the walls?”

Tomoko sighed, setting her bucket down with a huff. “No one really knows for sure. Some say it’s the number of people tortured down there. Others think it’s the number of people who died. Either way, nothing good ever happened in that place.”

Before you could press further, another maid, Aoi, cut in sharply. She was older, sharper, and rigid. Yet you had watched her pull the buckets back up from the walls with such brute force that it was no wonder she was still working for the clan despite her age. “Enough! You shouldn’t fill her head with stories. She’s a noblewoman; this isn’t her concern.” Her eyes avoided yours, fixed firmly on the stone path.

Haru rolled her eyes dramatically. “Oh, relax, Ms Aoi. She’s not like the rest of them. She’s helped us more than half the family ever has. Why shouldn’t she know what’s really going on?”

Tomoko nodded enthusiastically. “Exactly! And she’s already seen the basement. It’s not like we’re revealing some great hidden treasure. Besides, it’s about time someone outside this house knew what the Kamo family is really like.”

Aoi crossed her arms, her frown deepening. “And what good will it do her to know? The Kamo family isn’t to be trifled with. You’re putting her in danger — and yourselves, too, for that matter.”

You cut in gently, trying to defuse the tension. “I appreciate the concern, Ms Aoi, truly. But if the Kamo family has nothing to hide, then why should talking about it be dangerous?”

Haru smirked. “See? She gets it.”

Tomoko leaned closer, her voice dropping to a near whisper. “Do you want to know what I heard? Years ago, when the punishments in the basement were still happening, the head of the house would personally oversee them. And sometimes…” she trembled visibly. “Sometimes, they weren’t even punishing people who broke the law. Just anyone they didn’t like. Servants who fell out of favour. Merchants who got on their bad side.”

Haru shuddered. “They say the screams would echo up through the floorboards. That’s why most of the older staff refuse to even talk about it. Too many bad memories. There is also the ghost of that little girl—”

“That’s enough!” Aoi snapped. “The girl doesn’t need every grisly detail.”

“Oh, come on, Aoi. You hate them as much as we do. Don’t act like you’re above this.”

“Whether I hate them or not is irrelevant,” Aoi huffed. “You’re still being reckless. If anyone hears about this...”

Tomoko grinned mischievously. “And who’s going to tell them? You?”

Aoi gave an exasperated sigh but said nothing.

That night, you wrote letters to Shoko and Utahime, recounting the strange conversation and the haunting basement. You might have mentioned a glimpse of Satoru, too, though your thoughts on him were far more conflicted.

Shoko’s reply was predictably blunt.

Sounds grim. Torture rooms, tally marks, mysterious deaths — real classic Kamo vibes. Maybe they’re compensating for their family’s lack of charm.  But, you know, not my circus, not my corpses. Still, were they tortured with surgical precision? If so, let me know which tools were involved. I’ve got a scalpel set if you want to reenact it. Besides, I’ve always wanted to see how far someone could go with a bone saw and no anaesthetic. For science, of course. Stay alive. Bye.

PS: If you find any good booze down there, bring some back for me.

Utahime’s letter was far less chill.

That two-timing bastard is probably off doing handstands to impress some girl who can't tell her right from left. Honestly, I’m waiting for your mother to tell him the truth already. If he doesn’t start acting like your fiance, I’m going to come over there and bury him in that damn basement myself. If I had to spend more than two breaths in his company, I’d kill him. Actually, I’d kill him for free. Just say the word.

PS: If I didn’t love you, I would’ve told you to go into that basement again just for fun. But I do love you, so stay safe.

The Kamo clan leaders remained an enigma. Somehow, their presence was so secretive that their portraits were absent from every book and document in the library. You wondered if even the servants themselves had seen these people. “Maybe they’re so ugly they’re too ashamed to show their faces?” Shoko had suggested in one letter, and you still snorted remembering that.

From all your time in the estate’s library, you could only  find their names — Kamo Daijiro and Kamo Akane. Creepy. You also learned they had two daughters: Alina, the eldest, and her twin who had married into another prestigious family and no longer lived at the estate.

You still hadn’t caught so much as a glimpse of Daijiro or Akane, but that would change soon. A grand gathering was scheduled for the following night, and the maids were already preparing for their arrival in the estate.

──── ୨ৎ ────

The Kamo maids worked on you, dabbing floral scents to your neck and pulling a corsage on your hands. Behind you, Aoi’s hands deftly pulled at the laces of the corset you were reluctantly being tied into. Earlier, an unexpected scuffle had broken out between the Gojo clan maids and the Kamo maids when the latter had shown up, intending to tend to you.

“She’s our priority,” one of the Gojo maids had sniffed, her arms crossed.

“Not anymore,” retorted Tomoko. “She is living in the Kamo residence right now. Your loyalty isn’t required here.”

“Well, she’s from the Gojo clan!” snapped another maid, her tone haughty.

“Yes, and?” Haru shot back. The Gojo maids had given up after a reassuring smile from you, muttering about how they are only leaving because “the Lady asked so”. 

Now, Aoi was tugging the corset strings tighter. The conversation had shifted from the petty bickering of maids to something far darker.

“You wouldn’t believe the stories this house holds,” one of the younger maids murmured, a shiver in her voice. “Do you know about the little girl?”

“What girl?” you asked. You hadn’t seen the story of any little girl mentioned in the books you had read, but you had distinctly remember a mention of her story in an earlier conversation with these maids.

“Ms Aoi knows about it best!” Haru exclaimed.

Aoi’s face darkened as she let out a long sigh. “It happened about a decade ago,” she began. “A child had appeared on the doorstep, barely an year old, mind you. The family had taken her in, but of course, they did not treat her like a daughter. They had left her in the care of us servants. I was like her mother,” she said proudly. “She had turned three, I still remember, it was her birthday that night. She spilled a glass of expensive red wine on Lady Akane’s dress. It wasn’t even the girl’s fault. She was just a baby, carrying a tray too big for her tiny hands. But Sir Daijiro… he doesn’t forgive mistakes.”

The other maids exchanged uneasy glances as Aoi huffed loudly, pausing her hands on your laces to wipe stray tears. “The girl was dragged to the basement, where they lock away the disobedient. She… she never came out.”

Your breath caught in your throat. “She was… killed?”

“Yes,” whispered one of the younger maids, her voice trembling. “It’s said her ghost still lingers. Sometimes we hear her cries late at night. And the mist that hangs over the estate? They say it’s her curse — her anger at the clan.”

Aoi nodded grimly. “I was here. I wasn’t much younger than I am now, but I couldn’t do anything to save her. All I could do was sneak her scraps of food and try to mend her torn dresses after… after the punishments.”

You were horrified. “Punishments? For a child?”

Aoi’s tears couldn’t be held back anymore. “She was just a baby,” she croaked thickly. “I’d hear her cry at night, calling for her mother. And when… when…” Haru handed Aoi a cloth to wipe her face. “When she died… it was the moment I stopped believing the Kamo family had any humanity left.”

The room fell silent for a moment, save for the sound of Aoi’s sniffling and your shallow breathing. “How can someone be so cruel?” you murmured.

“That’s why we’re all so terrified,” Tomoko confessed. “If they could do that to a child, what chance do we have? Everyone here walks on eggshells, afraid to make even the smallest mistake. The leaders haven’t changed. They’re still the same people who let that little girl die.”

Aoi’s hands resumed their work, tying the last knot on the corset. The maids stepped back. You glanced at the mirror, seeing not just your reflection but the haunted expressions of the women around you.

The little girl’s story stuck with you, her cries echoing in your mind. If the Kamo clan could be so ruthless to a defenceless child, what horrors could they unleash on those who dared to cross them?

──── ୨ৎ ────

The grand gathering was suffocating. The air was thick with the scent of incense and expensive perfumes, the soft hum of conversation occasionally punctuated by bursts of laughter. You had probably sent about fifty letters in all to Shoko, Utahime and even Geto asking them if they would come to the South, and they all had replied with repetitive no’s. You had tried to keep your head down, avoiding the heavy gazes of the Kamo guests. But you were glad to see that Satoru, for once, was sticking close to you, uncharacteristically quiet. He hadn’t so much as glanced at Alina all evening, and perhaps even all this time during the visit if you were lucky. Not that you cared, of course.

Earlier, when you had overheard his mother asking him to keep his distance from “that Kamo girl”, and you remembered how he had rolled his eyes so hard you thought they would have gotten stuck.

“Fine,” he had said with mock drama. “But only because I’m such an understanding guy. And because I want you to stop looking like you’re ready to shank me with a chopstick.”

Now, true to his word, his focus was entirely on you. Every time you caught him looking elsewhere, it was never in her direction. He had even waved off her attempts to engage him, subtly turning his back to her as though she didn’t exist.

“See?” he murmured, leaning down to your ear. “Haven’t even looked her way. You believe me now, right?”

You arched a brow, unimpressed. “You don’t get points for doing the bare minimum, Gojo.”

“Bare minimum?” he gasped, and you smiled a little. His response reminded you of the ‘old times’, as they were now. “This is maximum effort for me! Have you met me?”

“Hush now, both of you,” his father interrupted. “They’re here.”

The Kamo clan heads arrived, and the air shifted. The room quieted, all eyes turning to the doors as Daijiro and Akane Kamo entered. Their presence was magnetic, commanding. As they moved through the crowd, the guests bowed slightly, parting to make way. You moved your eyes to the carpeted floor. You didn’t want to introduce yourself to someone who would torture a little girl to death, for God’s sake.

But then curiosity overtook your senses. You had been thinking of what they would look like for ages. They were like a mystery you had been picking apart ever since you stepped foot into that basement. Now was finally the moment you would get to see the leaders who hid from newspapers, books and even their own servants. You finally looked up. And the moment you saw their faces, the world seemed to tilt.

Sharp cheekbones. Piercing eyes. Their very presence struck a chord you hadn’t felt in years. Distantly, hauntingly familiar…

Your parents.

“Hush, little baby, everything you need is right here,” your mother cooed, and you walked to where he was leading you. “Yes, that’s it. There are your favourite snacks here, and all your favourite toys. Come on. Go there.”

But you found something else to interest you. Aoi, the maid, was standing right there, watching everything, and you wanted to walk to where she was instead of your bad mother.

“Stupid girl, where are you going?” your father pushed you from behind into the basement, and you fell over its many steps. Falling, falling, falling. By the time you reached the bottom, your face felt hot with some weird liquid.

“This is your new house — for now,” your mother said finally, walking down the steps. “You have given me enough trouble. From the moment I was cornered in that dark alley, alone and frightened, till now — you have been nothing but trouble. You are a constant reminder of what happened to me that night. You shall die, die!”

“There, there, now, Akie,” you watched your father cradle your mother’s head in his chest. You tilted your head, and the force almost made you fall back to the ground. “The child will no longer remain here. I have the most secretive merchants arriving from the North to here. They will be taking this… thing away from us, away from you. And then you shall finally be free.”

The realisation hit like a crashing wave, pulling the air from your lungs. Your vision blurred, and your chest tightened. It was too much. Too much. It was unbearable.

Without thinking, you reached out, your trembling hand finding Satoru’s mother instead of him. Her warm, steady grasp grounded you back to reality, and she turned to you immediately in concern. She studied you for just half a second before realising something was wrong, horribly wrong.

“Come,” she said softly, guiding you out of the hall without a moment’s hesitation.

Satoru’s voice trailed behind you, confused. “Where are you—”

“Stay with your father,” his mother ordered firmly over her shoulder.

Once outside, the cool night air hit your face, and it made you realise the warm wetness flooding your cheeks and stinging at your eyes. She led you to a quiet corner of the garden, still holding you as tightly as possible.

“What’s wrong?” she asked gently, her eyes scanning your face. “Are you unwell?”

The words tumbled out before you could stop them. “They’re my parents.”

Her brow furrowed. “Who are?”

“Them.” You swallowed hard, finally breaking down. “They! They left me. They sold me. I didn’t know their names but… I’ve seen them. They’re…”

Her expression shifted from confusion to horror. You looked at her face. You had never seen a look like that on her ever before. She released your hand only to pull you into a tight embrace.

“You poor thing,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “I had no idea. But I swear to you, they’ll never hurt you again. Not while I’m here.”

You cried on her shoulder loudly, and you could feel she was crying softly too. “Why? Am I not worth raising�� Mom?” She pulled back slightly, cupping your face in her hands. “Why didn’t they come back for me?”

“I don’t know, and I don’t care what their reasons were. You will be a Gojo soon. It is only a matter of time now. And you will forever, forever,  be a part of our family. I will not let the Kamos stain your history, ever.”

You sniffled. From somewhere in the hall, you could hear Satoru’s loud voice, probably causing some kind of scene.

“See?” his mother said softly, trying to distract you. “He hasn’t looked at their girl once, just like he promised. That boy might be infuriating, but when it comes to you, he’s surprisingly reliable.”

A faint smile tugged at your lips.

Satoru’s mother stood behind you. Her fingers were combing through your hair softly, as if to sooth your emotions with her caring rhythm. She adjusted your corset strings next, pulling them tighter, not harshly, but enough to make you focus on the present instead of the roaring panic threatening to take over.

Beyond the ornate doors of the gathering, voices rose and fell. You strained your ears to pick out the words, leaning slightly toward the source. And then you heard it.

A deep, booming voice. The same voice from your nightmares. The one that haunted your memories. Your breath hitched. It felt as though the walls were closing in to suffocate you.

Satoru’s mother’s hands immediately moved to your shoulders to steady you. “Breathe, darling,” she said firmly. “I’m here, am I not? You are safe.”

You nodded, though tears pricked at the corners of your eyes. “I’m trying,” you whisper, clutching the fabric of her dress tightly.

And then, the voice spoke words that made your blood run cold.

“…a marriage between Kamo Alina and Gojo Satoru.”

You froze. Your heart seemed to have stopped. The room seemed to have crashed down onto you. You tried to process what you had just heard. Satoru’s mother stiffened behind you, her hands pausing mid-movement.

“What did they just say?” you whispered.

She didn’t respond, though her head tilted slightly as she listened intently to the conversation happening inside the room. You caught snippets of whispers as noble families exchanged their astonishment at the bold proposal.

Surely, Satoru’s father knows. He knows that Satoru is supposed to be engaged to you.Right?

But then you heard him speak. His voice seemed proud and approving. “An excellent proposal, Daijiro Kamo. This alliance shall strengthen both our families. I accept.”

The words hit you like a slap. Your stomach churned, and for a moment, you thought you might be sick.

“Mom?” you whispered and turned to Satoru’s mother. “Why…?”

Her lips pressed into a thin line, her eyes narrowing dangerously. “That moron,” she hissed under her breath. Her hands fell away from your shoulders furiously. “He didn’t consult me. He didn’t consult anyone except Daijiro. Of course, he didn’t. Men like to think their decisions are final simply because they made them.”

The applause from the other side of the door grew louder. The sound vibrated in your ears as the nobles toasted the ‘union’. Your panic surged again. “What do we do?” you asked desperately.

Satoru’s mother exhaled sharply. “I shall handle it.”

When she threw the doors open roughly, the room fell silent. The silence following her entrance was not mere courtesy; it was submission. Her presence demanded it. Yet Kamo Daijiro, standing near the center with a goblet of red wine in his hand, immediately stepped forward with a smug smile. “Ah, my lady Gojo,” he began, his voice filled with condescension. “I was just about to inform you of the wonderful arrangement your husband and I have come to. My daughter, Alina, will—”

“Will do nothing,” she cut him off coldly.

Daijiro blinked, clearly taken aback by the interruption. “I beg your pardon?” he said with mock-politeness.

“You heard me,” she said, stepping further into the room. Every eye in the room was on her. “You dare discuss an engagement for my son without consulting me?”

Daijiro’s lips curled into a patronizing smile. “With all due respect, Lady Gojo, this is a matter for the men to decide. Your husband and I both agree that this alliance is mutually beneficial. Surely you trust your husband’s judgment.”

She laughed humorlessly. “Trust his judgment? You think I’m going to stand by while you play politics with my son’s life?”

She turned to glare at her husband. Satoru’s father cleared his throat, clearly uncomfortable under her piercing gaze, but Daijiro waved him off. “Lady Gojo, your anger is misplaced. This is a matter of strategy. You may oversee the household, but these are decisions of power — something women cannot fully comprehend.”

The room grew deadly quiet now, and Alina seemed to have understood that what her father just said had been a mistake. Satoru’s jaw tightened at the insult at his mother, but he did not say anything yet. You were still frozen in the doorway, but you could feel that he was about to snap at any moment now.

Satoru’s mother’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “Women cannot comprehend power?” Every word was pronounced clearly, and she took a single step closer. “You’re standing in my authority. Under my presence. Having begged for my appearance at this folly of an event. And you think I don’t comprehend power?”

“But this is an alliance—” Daijiro started.

“An alliance that disregards my authority,” she interrupted sharply. “An alliance that treats my son like a pawn in your political game of blind chess,” Her eyes flicked briefly to Satoru, who watched the exchange with a furrowed brow.

The room erupted in whispers. The many noble families exchanged shocked glances. Even Satoru’s father looked uncomfortable now, though he didn't dare interrupt.

Daijiro straightened, his tone hardening. “Lady Gojo, I understand you may feel... emotional about this. But this is for the good of both our families. Surely you don’t mean to disrupt an agreement between two patriarchs.”

Her expression darkened further. Without breaking eye contact, she reached for a glass of wine from a nearby tray. In one swift motion, she threw it to the ground, and the crystal shattered into thousands of shards. The sound echoed in the silence.

“The marriage is off,” she declared, her voice unwavering. “Because Satoru already has a fiancee.” She turned and gestured to you, standing awkwardly in the doorway having followed her from outside. “My future daughter-in-law, her.”

The room erupted into chaos. Gasps and furious whispers filled the air. Kamo Daijiro’s face turned a deep shade of red. The Kamo clan, the maids (who were standing outside, peering through the gates you left open, having not been allowed to enter the prestigious ceremony) and leaders alike, looked mortified at her words. 

“You cannot be serious,” Akane said through gritted teeth.

“I’ve never been more serious,” she countered.

“You have humiliated my family!” Daijiro growled, stepping closer threateningly.

At this, Satoru stood up, his sword in his hand as he placed himself between his mother and Kamo Daijiro. He tilted the weapon slightly to make sure the threat of blood was sent across to Daijiro, and blocked the way to his mother. Her eyes softened at his action, and she straightened. “This discussion is over. Take your child and leave, Kamo. I will take mine. There is no alliance to be forged here. Gojo clan!” She called to the maids, soldiers and workers of the Gojo clan who had come along with them on the journey. “We shall set off back home right now. Prepare.”

Daijiro stared at her with rage and humiliation. But when he glanced at the sea of judgmental eyes surrounding him, he knew he lost. With a barely concealed snarl, he turned on his heel, motioning for his family to follow.

Satoru fixed his sword back into its scabbard. His mother turned to you, softening again. She rested a hand lightly on your shoulder. “Come. We shall leave this place now, for good this time.”

She led you out of the hall, her grip steady and reassuring, even as the whispers behind you grew louder.

──── ୨ৎ ────

The journey back home felt strangely fast compared to the painstaking crawl southward. Perhaps it was Satoru’s mother’s fiery words that had lit a spark of patriotism among the servants, and maybe even the horses. Whatever the case, you arrived at the Gojo estate far sooner than expected.

You barely had time to set foot inside when Satoru found you. He cornered you in one of the quieter hallways. The first thing you noticed was his face; his usual, easygoing expression was clouded with something you had never seen before.

“Did you know?” he asked.

You blinked, thrown off by the abruptness. “Did I know what?”

“That you’re my fiancee.” The words came out bitter and flat, as if he couldn’t believe he was saying them aloud.

Your breath caught in your throat. You had been bracing for this conversation, but not so soon. Not like this. “Yes,” you admitted after a moment.

He reeled back, as though the admission had physically struck him. “You knew?” His voice rose, echoing off the corridor walls. “How long? How long have you known?”

“A year,” you said hesitantly, feeling guilt rise up in your throat. “I mean… last year, your mother—”

“A year?” His voice cracked, and he ran a hand through his hair in frustration. “You’ve known for an entire year, and you didn’t think to tell me?”

“I thought she would tell you,” you stammered. “She said she’d handle it.”

“Well, clearly, she didn’t!” he snapped, spinning to face you again. “So what, you were just going to wait until the wedding invitations went out?”

“That’s not what I meant!” you shot back. “I didn’t even agree to this in the first place. I was just as blindsided as you when she told me!”

“But she did tell you, and you did know,” he repeated coldly. “And you didn’t think I had a right to know?”

“You’re acting like I had a choice!” you said, your voice rising to match his.

“That doesn’t excuse keeping it from me!” he shouted too. “You and my mom — both of you — went behind my back. You made me feel like an idiot standing in that room today.”

“Oh, we made you look like an idiot?” you scoffed. “Why? Because you were actually planning to agree to her proposal? Because you wanted to marry that witch of a woman?”

His eyes widened in disbelief. “Are you serious? I barely even looked at her if I didn’t have to!”

“That was because mother had told you not to!” you countered. “Don’t stand there and question me when you’ve been acting like you have other options.”

“I didn’t know I didn’t have other options!” he shouted. “Because no one told me! The two people I trust the most in this world, you both kept me in the dark!”

You sighed. “Satoru—”

“No,” he cut you off. “Do you have any idea what this feels like? To know that the people you rely on the most didn’t think you were worth the truth?”

“That’s not fair,” you said softly, trying to find the right words. “I was just obeying mother—”

“Obeying mother?” he laughed incredulously. “By lying to me?”

“I didn’t lie!” you snapped. “I just… didn’t know how to tell you.”

“Well, you should have figured it out,” he said bitterly. “Because now, all I can think about is how little I actually know about you. About us. About… anything.”

The air between you felt heavy, suffocating. You wanted to say something, anything to fix the look of betrayal in his eyes, but your mind was blank.

Finally, he shook his head, his voice dropping to a strained whisper. “Look… I’ve never thought of you that way before, okay? You’re… you’re pretty, but you’re like a sister to me. That’s how I’ve always seen you. Nothing more. Nothing less.”

Oh. Of course.

“I need space,” he muttered, stepping back. “I need time to think.”

© chuulyssa 2024 - do not copy, plagiarize or repost my works on any platforms. do not translate.

[kiragecko]

My eldest is autistic and was utterly unable to predict other people's motivations enough to do this. They were also horribly offended by injustice, and would 'admit' to any negative behaviour that they even considered doing. So, when their younger brother came along, I was able to contrast their behaviours pretty clearly!

Tiny learned to smile and tilt his head to try to charm people before 6 months old. He'd do 'cute' things before asking me for things, when 'asking' still involved pulling me somewhere, or handing me something, rather than speaking. He would try to come in all polite and sweet after Nq had gotten lectures for being rude, to try to get the exact same thing his brother had been denied.

Tiny was a delightful kid. He wasn't being bad. He was learning how to affect the world. It was my responsibility to show him which methods were appropriate.

Using his brother to make himself look good was inappropriate. Asking if I wanted tea, and offering to turn it on, WAS appropriate, if a bit obvious. Lying was inappropriate. Being extra cute was appropriate and VERY effective, but I still gently taught him new bargaining strategies, so he wouldn't need to rely on his cuteness forever. (Though, that kid is still PRETTY DARN CUTE!).

-

Meanwhile, no one at school has EVER accused Tiny of manipulation. But Nq's grade 1/2 teacher insisted they were lying to and manipulating her.

Because the people who can recognize actual manipulation from a child are usually the ones who understand it's a natural thing for kids to try out and can respond to it properly.

The ones talking about "how manipulative" kids are ... are usually projecting pretty badly.

-

(in summary, OP was doing a very good job at being 3 and I am proud of them!)

I absolutely think adults, especially parents, ascribe manipulative intent to children when they shouldn't and it's absolutely a problem but it's always kind of funny to me when people go online and proclaim that children are incapable of manipulation. When I was three I asked my mom to get my older sibling their favorite candy bar at the grocery story because I knew she'd get me mine too as a reward for being thoughtful and that was way more likely to succeed than if I just asked for a candy bar for me. And it worked. Children scheme at a developmentally appropriate level the trick is not assuming children scheme at an adult level.

[kkukverse]

Put Your Head on My Shoulder

Pair : husband!jk x wife!reader

Genre: marriage au

Warnings: sex scenes nothing too wild

w/c: 10.3 k

“Passports?”

“Check.”

“Your backpack?”

“Check.”

“My wallet? Your wallet?”

“Also check.”

“Oh! Toothbrushes?”

The man didn’t reply as he stares at you in disbelief. “Babe,” he sigh softly. But you’re too busy checking your luggage and your backpack. Not wanting to leave anything important behind.

“Our toothbrushes Kook, do we have them? Oh god don’t tell me you forgot. Remember Krabi? The one where we forgot our toothbrushes?” With frantic hands you unzip the front part of the luggage to check for the said items.

“Mr. Jeon Jungkook?” 

You let out a sigh as you look up to see why your husband didn’t reply to you. Instead of catching him getting as busy as you are, he is actually looking at you with an amused smile on his face. “There we go, finally you’re looking at me.”

With a grunt you stood facing him, eyes rolling and the little lips pout started to form on your face with wrinkles on your forehead. Jungkook leans forward as he puts his hands on your shoulders, “Babe, calm down. We’re not going to the other side of the world for months. It’s your hometown. I have packed our toothbrushes, and so what, if we left them behind? We can buy them.” Jungkook squeezed your shoulders in hopes to loosen up the knotted muscles as you’re too tensed.

You are always on the edge every time the two of you went on a long trip together. But today it seems to get worse. 

You’re used to be the reckless traveler, someone who is hungry with spontaneous adventures and unplanned vacations. But all of that were before marriage, before you had to take care of another human being.

Ever since with Jungkook, you always feel the need to have everything perfectly arranged. You never admitted it but you somehow feel inadequate at attending the need for your husband.

Well, compared to your peers, you, as a wife, is on an 'okay' level. 

Most of your friends who got married earlier than you certainly are on the master level. You love them, really. But there’s a time when you think that they’re being too good to be true.

They’re the perfect housewives, the spot on clean home all year round, birthed beautiful babies, cooking up home cooked meals that would make top chefs cried. They’re the trophy wives.  

You and Jungkook are a working couple. You work on the typical working hours, from 9 to 5. The house? You think the house look perfect because you have such a wonderful husband who loves cleaning and doing the laundry.

Unlike you, Jungkook works around his own schedule hence his working time is more flexible than yours. Plus, he’s working from home most of the time. If it’s up to you, the house would be a mess. For the food part, on weekdays, it’s take outs. 

You are matured enough to understand that people will show things they wanna show. But somehow, somewhere in your heart, it stings when you thought you are not good enough as a wife.

You have no idea how you managed to catch Jungkook as your husband because that man is amazing. He never complains. Not once. Never degrading you for not being the typical wife.

As if the role is reversed in your household. He has been the one that begs you to rest so he could help with the house chores. He sometimes prepared dinner, although claiming he’s not a good cook but if there’s one warm hearty meal on the table after a long day at work waiting for you, you are in no place to complain.

"Well, I'm pretty independent too, you know. Mom and dad were busy and hyung was always studying somewhere. I know how to take care of myself, and now I can take care of you," This is Jungkook's favourite statement.

He really is an endearing human being. You’re still learning to take care of him as well. Which is why you get fidgety because you’re so afraid of screwing everything up.

“I know but we don't have to buy it. Why are we wasting money? Once we're back home, we gonna have extra set of toothbrushes, which we don't even need in the first place.” You yaps under your breath as you double check the snacks in your backpack.

Rummaging the backpack for the nth time. Ointment, mint breath strips, lip balm, protein and choco bars. Jungkook must munch on something, and he needs sugar. That’s the least you can do. Providing him snacks.

“Will you please look at me?” Jungkook hunched down to be on your eye level. He puts his hands on yours as your knuckles grip the luggage trolley. A little smile adorning his face at how his big hands envelope your tiny hands, looking perfectly fit together. He rarely tells you but he absolutely loves it when he gets to wrap your fingers with his palms. Feeling the warmth emitted from you.

But right now your hands are cold, and Jungkook knew that you’re not just anxious. He’s not sure yet, so he’s trying to ease you to tell him. Silently pleading with his cooing and his bambi eyes for you to look at him back. 

He winced a little when your eyes locked on his. Jungkook knows very well from the look of his wife just gave him. Immediately, he cups your face and lean closer.

“Hey, hey what is it? Can you tell me?” he whispered as if you're both are sharing a secret that only the two of you know. In the hectic airport with so many people come and go, Jungkook grounded you by just being close to you.

“It’s just, you don’t have to come with me, you know. I hate dragging you into my family matters. I know you’re busy and the fact that you have to leave everything for a week is just,” you heave a sigh as you put your hands on his chest. “Just not sitting well with me. I can go there all by myself,” you rambles.

“Don’t say it like that,” Jungkook is not gonna lie but your words hurt him.

It hurts when you’re trying to not include him into your personal matter. He is your husband, he admits it was hard to break through the wall you built. It took him enough time to get a glimpse of the side that you always hide.

He wants to be your tree, he wants you lean on him and trust him. Your problem is his problem too. It pains him to see you stress over something and he just wanted you to share it with him. 

You have never been the one who wears their emotions on their sleeves, so Jungkook have to observe you carefully. He learns with the frown on your face, the wavering voice, the way you avoid eye contact. He is still learning because you are like an enigma in an endless maze, he used to be the one who wanted to decode your thoughts, and the one that can walk into the layers of your maze without feeling lost.

But now he just wants to understand you, wants you to know that he accepts all of your quirks and wandering thoughts. 

God, he loves you so much and how could you unconsciously treating him like he is a stranger. 

“Don’t you dare say it like I’m not supposed to be there. Don’t exclude me from your family affairs. They’re my family too,” he emphasis on every word and it softens you.

“Also, I will not allow you to go so far away all by yourself, not when I’m still capable to go everywhere with you. I know, you’re the most amazing and independent woman but I want to be there,” Jungkook gently butts his head on yours, an act of comfort he always do when you’re not listening to him or whenever you feel a little insecure, it’s like saying I’m here and don’t shut me away, his stern yet soft statement makes your view a bit glassy.

He kissed your cheeks before leaving a fluttering peck on your lips. To soothe your nerves.  

It’s true that Jungkook had insisted on coming with you to your hometown, despite his busy work. Piles of unfinished videos and songs in his studio at home were left behind immediately the moment you said you have to go back to your hometown for a family business.

Jungkook knew what family business you’re talking about because it has been your constant topic during dinner. It’s a series of events. It’s started from your aunt is getting a divorce - not that it has anything to do with you but somehow all of your family members had agreed on an urgent meeting.

You figured out from your cousin that they also wanted to gather in remembering your late Grandpapa. 

It was a long overdue event. It kept getting pushed back because somebody got married, someone just gave birth, your cousin is still studying overseas and much more excuses.

Perhaps they realized now is a good time, or perhaps because everyone is coming to support your aunt. You decided that you must come, you missed everyone so dearly.

The other solid reason why you have to be there is because you’re the closest grandchild to your Grandpapa and it has been years since you visited your Grandmama. Even Jungkook hasn’t met her yet.

She couldn’t make it to your wedding since she had fallen ill at that time. The wedding was a small ceremony with only close relatives and friends. And you didn’t stay longer because you and Jungkook have to fly back immediately. 

You missed your Grandmama terribly. Your grandparents practically raised you when your mom and your dad were economically and psychologically struggling in being a parent. Not that you blame them, because now, you're at their age when they become parents for the first time and you started to understand them.

Grandpapa passed away before you met Jungkook, way back when you were in high school, and sometimes it always hits you at how he would love to know the amazing man you called your husband.

Since he loves teasing you when you were little, and you can’t help but think Jungkook and Grandpapa would be close buddies with their teasing antics. 

You told Jungkook some of the memories you had with your grandparents, you also shared with him the moment when you have to move out from their house to live back with your parents. You still remember the sadness looks in your Grandpapa’s wrinkled face like it all happened yesterday. You did visited them occasionally. During the holiday season or when you have a long school break. But, it was not enough.

Honestly, Jungkook is as excited and definitely nervous in meeting your Grandmama. He heard a lot about that amazing lady from you and he’s afraid of her acceptance. What if she didn’t like him? What if she decided that Jungkook is not enough for her granddaughter? From your stories your grandma sounds like a warm person but what if she’s cold to him?

“Thank you Jungkook, for coming with me,” it came out like a whisper in his ear. Squeezing your hand, he pulls you to walk beside him as he push the trolley to the boarding gate.

Although you were reluctant on dragging him along, his presence still brings you peace, and you need him.

“Oh babe, I forgot to show you. Remember yesterday, Taehyung came over with Yuna?” Jungkook is pulling out his phone from his back pocket. Wanting to show you the video of your friend’s baby.

“Of course I remember. They left before I reached home.” Sighing, recalling how you rushed to get home yesterday just to meet Yuna, the little bundle of joy.

She is just at the perfect age when curiosity takes over her and babies are the best at this age. It’s not like you can meet and play with her everyday. First of all Taehyung loves hoarding his daughter all to himself - selfish - and secondly because of your work.

Yuna is going to forget her godmother since she only spent her baby days with Jungkook, her godfather. 

“I’m very sure Yuna misses you just as much as you miss her. Look at this! She’s sleeping so comfortably on our desk.” Jungkook squealed as he keeps playing the video of Yuna in her pink fluffy onesie, (the one that you bought for her) drooling on your desk next to the files. She was sleeping on her stomach and as Taehyung is about to pick her up, she whined.

Making both of you giggle at her cuteness.

“God, how does she sleeps soundly on that hard desk? You know my ass is still sore from that night you pushed me onto it?” Jungkook smirks like a little tease he is, while you’re trying to act like you have no idea what it is that he’s trying to tell.

“No, honey, I don’t know,” of course you know but you’re trying to focus on anything, not the memories of your tangled sweaty bodies, falling files and your stationary box topple over on the floor. 

Sensing that you're getting shy, Jungkook keeps on teasing you. He is relentless.

He leans over the armrest, whispering in your ears, “awe come on. How can you already forgot how hard you pulled my hair, the scratches on my back, babe? Still stings. God, the way you ride me on your desk, ugh you're so hot,” he sighs heavily and you feel the warmth of his breath on your neck, you're sensitive spot.

You snapped your head so fast at your husband’s bold action. You are in an airplane for heaven’s sake! You can feel the warmth blush creeps on your face. You pinched his arm.

“There are hundreds of people on board, and we’re gonna be here for hours! No one wants to hear our bedroom story!” You hissed and Jungkook is silently yelping in pain. He hates the fact that he loves pain especially from you. 

“Okay, okay, okay!! Sorry, baby, I’m sorry. I’ll behave!” He grips on your wrist to stop you from keep abusing his arm.

The grin on Jungkook’s face is as wide as yours but suddenly your face feel in horror as you remembered you rode Jungkook on your desk!

You had sex on the desk of where Yuna fell asleep on! Slept on her stomach! Face down on the spot of Jungkook’s ass! Baby Yuna! Taehyung’s sunshine! On your desk! Did you cleaned it up?!

A loud gasp coming out from you as these thoughts bombarded your mind. You covered your mouth with your hand while the other one is grabbing Jungkook.

“What, baby, why? You wanna vomit?” Jungkook quickly leans forward to grab the paper bag from the pocket seat. You stopped him, half laughing and half crying, you’re trying to explain to him the sin you two had done but it all came out as broken sentences.

Not wanting to disturb other passengers but wanting to scream at the same time is probably the hardest choice you have to make at this moment. With wide eyes, Jungkook look at you in bewilderment.

“What is it? Should I be worried? Want me to get help?” Jungkook is in between laughing along with you or be scared that his wife is losing it. Honestly he has no idea. 

“Shit, babe. We had sex at the desk! Yuna slept on it! What are we gonna tell Taehyung? Should we tell him?” Wiping your tears while you’re mouth is still widely laughing is a confusing sight for Jungkook but once he gets the gist of what you’re trying to tell him, he, too let out a loud laugh.

The seat next to you gave the both of you a weird look and and grunts can be heard. Your husband straighten his back on the chair and clears his throat as he apologize loud enough for the row in front of you to catch it. 

Leaning back to you he grabs your hand and trying to muffle the noise as you both keep on giggling like little kids. You’re still terrified on the inside, thinking of Yuna and how are you supposed to tell her father? Kim Taehyung is going to cut your husband’s dick once he knew.

“Jeon Jungkook, stop laughing! This is not funny,” your attempt to be serious was blown away by your own wheezing.

“In my defense, you’re the impatient one,” he scrunched his nose with his lips jutted towards you. 

“You could’ve carried me to our bed!” you hissed.

Jungkook gives you a betrayed expression as he puts his hand on his chest. As if you’re accusing him of the crime both of you committed.

“Excuse me ma’am, I clearly remember you’re the one who chanted more baby, please I want you in me, now,” he mocked your moaning. Your face is in your palms as you keep shaking your head.

“I did not sound like that. Please, Jungkook at least tell me we did clean the desk.” Banging your head on his shoulder while he snorted. 

“Well, your welcome, because your amazing house-husband did cleaned the desk. You blacked out the moment we got into our bedroom. Meanwhile, your dutiful husband, wiped our crime scene clean with a hand sanitizer. I told you that sanitizer will come in handy.” This is one of the moments you’re so happy to have such a clean freak as your husband.

“Oh god, thank goodness!” You showered his cheek with kisses.

“But do we have to tell Taehyung though?” Biting your lower lip, you secretly wished he is as evil as you. Because you don’t want to freak Taehyung out.

Just as you thought, called it soulmate behavior, because Jungkook just shrug it off and said to not tell him and even if he did, Taehyung would understand anyway.

He had done a lot worse back in his college days and Jungkook have all the receipts as his roommates. 

Laughing softly you shakes your head. “Can’t believe we tainted Yuna like this. What kind of godparents are we? Unbelievable,” your eyes are getting droopy as the airplane breaking the clouds.

Jungkook is taking off his grey hoodie for you because you always catch cold easily, especially when travelling in an airplane. Thankfully he’s wearing a long sleeve shirt inside. 

He did reminded you to wear an extra layer but it seems like you forgot. Snuggling as close as you can, you sleep almost immediately with your head on his shoulder. Jungkook chuckled at the sight. You sleep so easily. Be it on the bed or in a moving car, you are unfazed.

The first time you went on a road trip together, you fell asleep even before Jungkook gets to drive out of the city. The road trip was a lonely one for him because you slept all the way. 

He is relieved, relieved that you laughed. You were fidgety and anxious with going back to your hometown before the flight and he is just really, really, really grateful that you had a good laugh just now.

He managed to take the stress off of your mind. Always.

“Where is she, do you think she forgot, Kook? Do we have to get an Uber? Ugh, why is she not picking up her phone?” Punching your phone with your thumb, you texted your cousin, asking on her whereabouts.

Not that you’re ungrateful for having her coming down to pick you and Jungkook from the airport, but it would be much easier if she told you beforehand if somehow she couldn’t make it. You would’ve requested an Uber and you’re probably would be home by now. 

“Babe, sit down, please. Maybe there’s a heavy traffic or maybe she left her phone or something. It’s not like we’re waiting for hours anyway. It’s not even an hour yet. So, will you please, don’t stressed out over this, hum?” Grabbing your hand, he patted on his lap, telling you to sit on him.

Engulfing his arm on your waist, he took a breath of your natural smell on your neck and leaving a kiss on the skin. For a married guy, Jungkook is still shameless with showing off his affection on you. Grabbing you, leaving kisses on your face, smelling you. To him it’s an announcement that this girl is mine. 

He sneak a peek on your unanswered texts to your cousin. Seeing you used a lot of emojis and silly meme stickers in your previous conversation with her as you’re scrolling down. 

Adorable ice queen. You rarely replied cute emojis with him. He pouts as he placed his chin on your shoulder. Feeling a little jealous with your cousin.

“No reply yet?” The vibrating sound from Jungkook tickles you but since you’re still stressing over the unanswered text, you ignored it.

He’s now feeling the jet lag starting to kick in. Resting his head on your shoulder, shutting his eyes. When he said you don’t even need a comfortable bed to sleep on, well, it is the complete opposite for him. He just needs you. 

A ping was heard indicating a new message on your phone, and you quickly checked it as a soft laugh coming out from your mouth. Laughing at the meme your cousin sent you. She apologized for not getting out of work earlier because now, she has to face the traffic.

As a truce for her mistake she bought you a dozen of your favorite donuts. 

Jungkook flinched and scrunching his eyes as he felt a movement from you.

“Hey. Sorry, baby.” You noticed the flinched and instantly place a kiss on his cheek. As a token of apology for waking him up. By the groggy grunts, you know he’s awake now. Guilt rushed in you because you know he hates jet lag as it always gets the best of him. You’re scratching his scalp as your other hand is still holding your phone.

“She’ll be here in ten. You’re right, she’s caught in a traffic jam.”

Jungkook just hummed at that because all he wanted right now is to lay down next to you and have a good sleep. Smiling at your husband, you keep scratching the back of his head.

A habit you gained from living with Jungkook. He purrs like a kitten full with milk every time you do that. With one hand you replied to your cousin to just step on the gas like a daredevil she is. 

Your cousin, Suri, is only one year older than you. She’s the mature cousin in many senses but it is always you who she runs to when life is being the big bad wolf.

Like the one when she had to tell her mom - your aunt, that she lost her earrings. They weren’t just any earrings, it was inherited by your grandmama. Being the curious rebel, Suri took them from her mom jewelry box and showing them off at school.

What a way to go when she lost them during recess. In panic, she dragged you and both of you spent hours searching for them in the school yard, at the field (she doesn’t even went to the field), at the cafeteria, basically every nook and cranny of your high school. 

Living just a few houses away, you and Suri were practically attached at the hip, always hanging out together after school, so nobody really questioned why you and Suri was late on that day.

The search was fruitless. Finally she decided to come clean at her mom, which was your earliest idea before the both you dipped your heads into the bushes.

Staying by her side, you comforted her by holding her hand. She was scared shitless and as expected she got a ‘good’ earful nagging from your lovely aunt. But you still stayed by her side, only leaving when she fell asleep, with wet pillow because of the tears and snot. 

Just like highschool, right now you feel the need to be by her side in facing the divorce of her parents. She acted like she was fine when you called last week, from her defeated voice, you know. You know her probably better than she knows herself. 

She was the one who found out that her dad is cheating on her mom. She kept it to herself for months. Months!

Not telling a soul because she’s giving her dad a time or a chance to make things right. Her dad, doesn’t even know his daughter knew. Perhaps she was in denial but not until she broke the news to you. You advised her that she should tell her mom.

Well, clearly she did took your advice because now everyone is here to support your aunt and your cousin. 

From far you can hear a screeching sound which you don’t have to listen carefully to know that it belongs to Suri. She’s loud. Even Jungkook is wide awake now. Blinking like Bambi with his big eyes, his hands are still on your hips. He looks so adorable you can’t help but planting kisses on his nose and his cheeks.

“I’m sorry you have to wake up now. I promise you will have the most wonderful rest at grandma’s. But for now we have to settle with Suri’s car, yeah?” Whispering softly as if you could break him if you speak too loud.

Jungkook just looks so fragile when woken up from a nap. You’re not sure if he managed to catch all the words you just said because he keeps blinking with a slightly parted mouth. You’re so tempted to kiss him silly when suddenly somebody tap your head from the back. It’s Suri. 

“Damn, did I just cockblocked you from kissing him?” She said with a smirk on her face. Her short hair really does look better in person, she was so unsure during your facetime, feeling it would make her head look big.

Getting up from Jungkook, you give her a tight bear hug.

Feeling ignored, Jungkook grabs the end of his hoodie that you’re still wearing.

“Oh Jungkook, my brother! How are you? Man, look at this healthy long black hair. What did you feed him? He looks more buff now” She patted his shoulder like he is her little brother, looking amused at his hair.

“Keep it longer boy, your wife has a long hair kink.” She sends you a wink as if whatever that she just spilled is normal. 

Jungkook tilt his head to you with a wide grin on his face.

“I know, she just doesn’t want to let go of them, her hair pulling game is getting stronger,” he chuckles. He noticed that you have become a lot more touchy especially on his hair ever since he let it grow, long enough to cover his eyes.

And not to mention how you keep on pulling them like your life is hanging on it during your heated sessions. Suri just clapped in amaze at Jungkook’s reply.

The ride was a peaceful one, perhaps Suri is as tired as you are. It's relatively far from the airport to your grandma’s.

You keep glancing out the window to stare at the view. The street is still so familiar with nothing much has changed. Sitting on the passenger seat, you’re devouring the donut from your favorite bakery like a madman because they’re still taste the same. You save some for Jungkook since he already passed out at the back seat. 

The picture of you sitting next to Suri surely brings back your young adulthood memories. Only now with an additional passenger at the back. 

You turn to check on him from time to time. He looks so adorable, you covered him with his hoodie after you took it off from you and his head leans on the window. Suri noticing you keep glancing back, smiles fondly.

“You can sleep with him at the back.” Suri breaks the serenity that lingered in the car.

“No, it’s fine. He’s fine.” Pulling your left leg closer until your knee reaches your chest. A habit of yours every time you’re in a car.

“Seriously, you keep glancing at him like a mom watching her baby sleeps. Does he really can only sleep with you being near to him though?” 

“Yeah, he told me he was completely fine with sleeping alone before he met me. But he couldn’t anymore now.” Smiling so wide you remembered the night Jungkook confessed that.

Suri cooed and dramatically clenched her fist on her chest. “He’s romantic. You used to despise these hopeless romantics” 

“Keyword, used to.” 

Both of you and Suri let out a small laugh, and the smile on her face faded before she let out a sigh. “I missed you. You have no idea how bad it was for me to deal with this shit all by myself.”

You put your hand on her shoulder to comfort her. You know it won’t bring much difference but what else can you do?

“My dad is so stupid, I’m telling you. He asked me to check for his PayPal account when his mistress is still texting him at that time. Imagine how fucked up it was for me? I had to pretend I saw none of her filthy texts.” Suri speaks in a low voice, sounded defeated. 

“I almost broke up with my boyfriend. I keep thinking his ‘I love you’s is as fake as my dad’s when he used it to my mom.” She rubs the bridge of her nose and you listen to her, letting her venting out all of the frustration that she couldn’t do through a video call.

“My mom acted like she’s fine and all. She told me she saw it coming. But she didn’t say shit because of me. How stupid. It’s not like I am a teenager. Hell, they should’ve part ways when we were in high school. At least I get to hang out with the kids from the ‘divorced parents’ club.” 

“No, you were banned from joining clubs because you made a bad joke to one of them kids." You’re trying to lighten up the mood. But it was an exaggerated statement.

“Fuck, yeah I forgot about that one. Well, ain’t I was a troubled child, the sign of a messed up parenting was already there,”

You laugh at that and as the laughter died down, Suri looks at Jungkook through the rear-view mirror for a few seconds before her soft gaze falls on you.

“I pray he treats you right, I pray that your love will never fade. I don’t think I want to get married, not now at least. Love sucks but seeing you two, Lilo, looking this happy, makes me wanna believe in it again.” 

“Lilo? I haven’t heard that nickname in a long time. You either sappy or drunk to call me that,” you giggles at your cousin. Intentionally ignoring the heavy mood because you hate it when your cousin is sad and brooding. Like she’s giving up.

“See, this is what I meant. You, was never serious about love, you hated it more than I do. I thought you’re pranking me when you told me about him. It was me who was in a long relationship but look who’s wearing the ring now,” she slightly punch your shoulder as the car stopped at the red light. 

Unbeknownst to you, the passenger in the back seat is listening to your conversations. 

Jungkook was half awake after he heard laughters and giggles coming from you and Suri. He wants to fall back to sleep but he decided to listen more when you told Suri he couldn’t sleep without you.

Jungkook blushed under his hoodie that he had to pulled to cover his face. He knows he shouldn’t eavesdrop on your conversations with your cousin. Since it sounded intimate when Suri talked to you in a low tone. 

But then again, he couldn’t bring himself to sleep after Suri called you Lilo. He never heard of that name before, and he made a mental note to ask you about it later.

He’s eager to listen more as you and Suri are talking about him right now. When Suri said she prays he treats you right, he wanted to profusely said yes, yes he always hope he’s treating you right. Always trying to be the right man for you, that’s all he wanna be. 

He couldn’t calm his wild heart when he heard his name coming from you, speaking softly.

“Jungkook, is so endearing. I’m sure he had it rough when he first met me. I was mean to him. I shut him out. But he keeps coming back, keep asking me to let him love me properly. Truthfully, at first I was annoyed. I told him he likes the idea of me, not the real me. I keep telling him that he would hate me at the end of the day,” you sigh, thinking back to the day you left him with a hurtful looks on his face. 

Jungkook is screaming internally. No I would never hate you, I can’t hate you. 

He wants to hold you so bad right now. Scrunching his eyes with a heavy exhale coming out of his nose. Jungkook knows his love story wasn’t the greatest love story ever told but it was the most beautiful journey he ever walked into.

From meeting you, getting to know you, rejected by you, multiple times, to the day you finally let him in. And he is still learning new things with you. His heart breaks a little when you think of it that way, because he never thought he had it rough, he never thought of you being mean to him. 

“But he accepts me, all of me. I have no idea how to love so he asked me to learn it together with him. Saying yes to marrying him probably seems reckless and rushing to some but out of so many unsure things in my life, being with him isn’t one of that. Now he has become my home, my wings, my lover” 

Jungkook teared up at your confession. You rarely are the first one to show affection but he knows. He always does. 

After almost an hour drive, Suri slowed the car on the familiar residency. Pulling up her car in front of the beige house, you straighten up your back as you can see a few cars already parked neatly, along the street to your grandma’s house.

The beige coloured wall looks new yet you still recognize it as the house you used to reside when you were a little girl. You noticed familiar figures. Looks like everyone’s here already.

You glanced back and saw Jungkook stretching his arm as his mouth widely opened with a yawn. Suri is already out of the car hugging your other cousins. You help Jungkook fixing his hair and coming out of the car together, before they practically swarms you and engulf you in a big hug. 

Jungkook can feel the warmth from the interactions he got. He really feels bad for not staying longer after the wedding. Otherwise he will get to know your family a bit better. He was awkward at first, but your uncles and aunts didn’t treat him like a stranger and everything that you’re stressed about for weeks disappeared into thin air.

The unnecessary thoughts you and Jungkook had about meeting your Grandmama also gone too. 

Grandmama loves him, she may be slightly senile as she couldn’t quite remember people but she is so comfortable with Jungkook. Oh your grandma, the wrinkles on her skin, her hearing and eyesight are starting to deteriorate.

The moment you walked into the door, you saw her on her favorite couch, kneeling next to her legs, you put your hands on her knees. Informing her that you have arrived safely. She couldn’t hear you properly so Suri told you to speak a little louder.

She hardly recognize you which breaks your heart but it’s partly your fault. You should’ve visited her often. 

Jungkook who was sitting next to you just looks at you and your grandma. Fondness filled in his eyes when he saw your thumb rubs circle on your Grandmama’s knee. 

An act Jungkook always does to you. You introduced Jungkook to her and ever as polite your husband his, he stretched out his both of his hands to your grandma. She held his hand as Jungkook told her that he is your husband.

“Lilo? Lilo’s husband?” Grandmama asking for a confirmation at Jungkook. Jungkook kneels closer to her because she hasn’t let go of his hand. With as much energy her frail body can give, she squeezes his hand. “Lilo, you happy?” Grandmama turns to you as her other hand patted your head.

“Yes, grandma. Very happy.”

Fighting the tears from rolling down your face. This whole situation is very emotional because it’s like she’s giving your marriage a blessing. You regretted for not coming earlier. Jungkook notices how emotional you’ve become and he gives you a reassuring smile.

“Lilo makes me happy, grandma. I’m sorry for not visiting you sooner,” Jungkook squeezed back your grandma’s hand and your heart swelled at him using your childhood nickname. 

The night went so well after the emotional reunion. 

The thing about your big family is nobody is left out. It’s loud because everyone get to talk. Even the shy Jungkook is included. Jungkook have no idea kids love him. The only little kids interaction he managed to survive is Yuna, Taehyung’s baby.

Watching from the kitchen window, you can see your cousin’s children are following him like ducklings, the sight is very endearing.

He is good with kids, he just didn’t know that. He has a lot of stamina to match up with the kids’ energetic nature. He had his rest on the way, and now he is walking around while holding an infant.

You instantly think that he would be an amazing dad. 

“Thinking of having one of those?” Suri speaks up from behind you. Her eyes glued on the kids chasing Jungkook at the yard.

Grandmama once told that Grandpapa wants a big yard for kids to run freely. Now it serves its purpose.

“We haven’t fully discuss about it yet, but we did talked ‘bout it” Your feel your stomach doing a back flip because the idea of mini you and Jungkook running around in the house, tiny hands and feet, giggles and gurgles are so, so, so tempting but you’re not sure if Jungkook wants that as much as you do.

Your marriage is still on the early stage. 

As if Suri can read your mind she turns to you to help you stacked up the clean plates. “What’s there to discuss? If you both want kids, then let it happen. I’m pretty sure Jungkook wants them as much as you do.” 

Biting your lower lip, thinking how should you break your desire to Jungkook. “Yea, I guess.” Turning off the faucet, you and Suri walks to the living room.

You and Jungkook decided to stay a night at your grandma’s before spending the rest of the week at your parents’ house. Jungkook feels like he has a lot to catch up with Grandmama. But since it’s already late into the night and Grandmama needs her rest, Jungkook would have to settle down with you and spend the day with her tomorrow. 

Jungkook was given a mini tour of the house before you stopped at your used to be bedroom. It wasn’t big now but it felt huge when you were a little kid. 

You took a shower first before Jungkook because that man takes forever when he’s in the bathroom. Seriously, he could spend an hour doing whatever it is inside it. 

After showering, you sprawl on the cozy bed. Looks like someone been tidying the room, you might have to ask Suri later. You turn around to face Jungkook who is sitting on the edge of the bed.

“Babe, c’mere please, I need you,” you groggily calling him. Jungkook chuckles softly as he crawls hastily to you. Like a dog being offered the bone. This sight could be mistaken as lust but right now, with his bunny grin and and bouncy long hair? He is just so adorable. 

“Okay Lilo, tell me, why am I just found out about Lilo now? Lilo?” Raising his brows as he hovers above you. You let out a soft giggles as you place your hands on his chest, creating a space between you and he pouted at that.

“Truthfully I forgot about that name. Because, only my closest family call me that.” Jungkook hums at that and you can feel the vibration from his chest.

“Back off Kook, you’re suffocating me.”

He whines when you pushed him but he clings back to you like a koala on your side. His legs trapping your legs as his hand sprawled on your stomach. 

“Why Lilo?” He speaks softly.

Confused at your husband sudden ministrations, your turns to face him. “Why are you suddenly so clingy?” You raise one brow to him before he tightens his hold on your stomach. Leaving wet smooches on your neck, your jaw and your cheek.

“Let me love my wife. Come on, you didn’t answer me. Why Lilo? Is it related to Lilo and Stitch?”

You place your hand on his cheek. 

"Yes, it is indeed related to Lilo and Stitch. They call me Lilo because I… Okay promise you won’t laugh first.” You giggle thinking about the silly reason behind your nickname.

“What, babe. Don’t keep me hanging. I won’t laugh.” 

Propping his hand, he grabs you closer. “Stop giggling, tell me.” Jungkook pinches your cheek with his other hand.

“It’s because I used to make voodoos with spoons. Just like Lilo.” You cover your face with your hands. Jungkook lets out the loudest laugh and after realizing that maybe you’re embarrassed by that, he toned it down a little.

“You promised you won’t laugh! Asshole." You smack his arm.

“I said I won’t laugh, I didn't promise anything,” he talks back at you while sticking his tongue out.

“Trying to be a smartass now? Get away from me, I’m sleeping with grandma” You wiggle your body so you could get out from his leg. He laughs even harder as he tightens his hold, not wanting to let you go.

“Awe but why? Tell me more? How did you do it, voodoo queen” 

Jungkook pulls your hands that covered your face, and he kisses the fingers and your palms.

“Kids were mean to me, telling me that my parents doesn’t love me, because I’m living with grandma and grandpa. So, coming home after school, I would grab a spoon and draw a face on it with crayons. Stop snickering Jungkook, it was so hard for me back then.” You pouted at him. 

“Awe I’m sorry, I’m sorry you had a rough childhood. My poor baby,” he patted your hair like he’s coaxing a child. “Who are they? Want me to beat them? I have black belt in taekwondo, let me use my strength.” He said with a serious face. He wouldn’t.

“Jungkook it was a long time ago, and we were kids,” you smile fondly at him, feeling protected though you know he has the softest heart of them all. 

“I forgot their names let alone their faces. Never choose violence, Kook, what if some kids bullied our babies, you're gonna beat them?” You trace your finger on his tensed brows, and they’re soften at your touch.

Actually his whole face softened and lit up simultaneously at your remarks.

“Our babies?" he utter. The words rolling on his tongue so smoothly.

"Say it again, love.” He nuzzles his nose on your neck. Oh, the idea of having a baby with you, drives him wild. 

You on the other hand is giggling at his actions, you’re a bit ticklish on your neck. And when he bites and sucks the sensitive skin, you let out a breathy moan “Our-babies”. Damn Jeon Jungkook.

“Kook,” you speak as softly as you can.

“Hmm,” he lapped on the abused area, purple and dark pink are subtly forming and surely they will be darker marks by tomorrow morning.

Still latching on your neck he pulls himself with one hand holding him up, the other hand is roaming your body. From your arms, to your belly, before settling by the hip. His thumb is caressing your soft skin.

His dark wavy locks is tickling your chin and you had enough, grabbing his face with both hands as you bring him closer. Noses touching and his lips are wet from biting, with hooded eyes but still carrying the fondness in them, his breathing is becoming more labored and so do you.

“We shouldn’t, Grandmama is sleeping next door,” you either telling that to him or to yourself because from the way you’re licking your lower lip, you don’t want him to stop.

Jungkook knows you, you wanted him to convince you that whatever you’re about to do is okay, he will be the bad guy for you.

“Grandmama’s hearing is a bit-” before he can finish you smacked his chest.

“Don’t say it, it’s the age factor. Don’t be so mean!” You whisper harshly.

“Ouch, okay I’m sorry, I shouldn’t put it that way, but she won’t wake up. We’re not gonna bother her." He assumed.

"So, you my darling, have to be quiet,” he smirks as he winks at you. 

“Yeah? Kiss me already,” you pulls him down so his lips crash on yours. It is lustful, it is messy, but Jungkook always takes it slow. He’s a bit sentimental when it comes to making love with you.

You’re so different, you want it hard. Biting his lower lip as you tug it, a silent pleading for him to move faster. He chuckles at your impatience.

“Always rushing, princess. I’m not going anywhere.” His tongue skillfully breaking into your mouth, dominating the kiss. You let him. Your hand which was on his neck now grabbing his hair.

Feeling his soft hair through your fingers before you pulled them. He moaned into your mouth and he pulls away, bearing his neck to you as he lets his head thrown back gravitating to your pull. Eyes closed and he looks like he’s high on ecstasy named you. “Ahhh princess-”

“Shh! Keep it down.” You immediately leaving marks on his neck and noticing the position is making you uncomfortable, you pushed him until he lays on his back. Straddling his lap, you dive back to his neck, continuing the abuse.

Jungkook can’t keep his hands to himself as he quickly pulling up your shirt with struggle as you’re both are chest to chest. He rested his palm on your belly before grabbing your breast. He kneads the soft flesh and it illicit another moan from you. What a sight for Jungkook. You arched your back and gasped at the feeling of his dick poking your ass. Hard. Shakily putting your hands on his chest, you grind on his dick. 

Jungkook almost cum in his pajama pants at this feeling. The view of you getting off on his clothed member, is making him insane. Your hips moving forward and backward making a tasty fraction, it feels good but it is not enough.

You keep biting your lips until it becomes swollen, and he swears he can feel you soaking your panties already with the wet feeling he felt. “Come on baby, cum like this,” He commands with a deep voice.

“Nnggh- Kook, I can’t- need you” You scrunch your eyes and your movements is getting slower. You’re exhausted.

“Yes, you can. Come on baby, come on.” Jungkook gritted his teeth as he can feel your ass snug his dick perfectly. Noticing that your movement is getting faltered, he grips on your hips, and helps you picking up the pace. Surely will leave another bruising marks there. You whimper because the sensation is overwhelming.

Feeling the knot under your stomach is getting tighter and your pussy keeps on clenching on nothing. Only letting out more gush of slick.

"Ahh Kook, close! I’m cumin-” the knot snapped and all you can see is white. Your breathing is getting more erratic before you completely fell down to his chest. He rubs you back lovingly but his hard dick is still poking you.

Jungkook prioritize your desire first before his and he kisses your head softly. With limping hands you got up pressing his chest once again.

“Take it off, take it all off,” your fingers grabbing the hem of his shirt and pull the material off while he frantically pushing down his pants and his boxer. He helps you taking off your bra as well before he starts swirling his lips on your perk nipple.

A tug and you moan deliciously, he moves on to you other nipple, paying as much attention as he did with the first one. He throw off your pants and panties and god knows where they lands in this room. 

Pulling you up, he leans on the headboard. He instantly plunged two fingers into your hole and you’re clenching so hard, making he whines. It’s starting to get hot and steamy as you two letting out breathy moan. Still straddling him, you blindly grab his dick with your hand, pumping it up and down.

“Enough, just wanna be inside you, now!” Jungkook aligned his member to your hole. Putting your hands on his shoulders, you slowly sinking down on him.

Choking and moan in unison as you both adjust to the position. With head thrown back, you sob because Jungkook is big and no matter how many times you fuck, it still feels like your first time. 

Sensing your discomfort he stays still.

“Kook, why are you so big?” You’re mumbling incoherent words.

“Yeah? I’m big? Taking my cock so well. Fuck, baby, you’re so tight. Come on baby, bounce on my cock” he grunts as your walls keeps on fluttering. His rolling hips and his dirty talks are making you seeing stars. A whining mess and your cunt is clenching him like a vice.

“Stop clenching so hard baby, I might cum soon, we don’t want that, right?” he warns with a bite on your shoulders and he switches the position with you now laying on your back, dick still hard inside you.

He keeps up the pace and moaned so loud as he can see the way his dick pistons in and out of your pussy.

“Creamed so hard on my cock, baby, you’re so wonderful.” His hands on your waist with your heels digging his ass.

“Faster, faster. Please, please, please,” you’re chanting, ignoring that somebody might hear you because Jungkook is hitting it right. 

The squeaking bed and the loud skin slap are echoing in the room.

So much of keeping quiet.

“Fuck, you’re so beautiful. Baby, let’s have kids, huh. Let’s have them,” he spreads his palm on your lower belly. Already thinking you carrying a child, his child, how you would look like with a swollen belly.

Fuck, motherhood would look good you. With that thought he trusts harder and faster. You whine and scratch his back as the pace was intensified. Jungkook hiss on both sensation, the sting on his back and how your walls grip his dick tighter at the mention of having a kid.

“Yes, yes, yes. Let’s have a baby- nnnghh Kook, shit shit” Your body jolted when Jungkook suddenly flicks his thumb at your clit. Pushing you to the edge. And you trashed so wild under him as you feel your bliss is approaching.

“Cumming- Baby I’m cumming nghhh Kook, don’t stop” letting him know before you finally let go. Feeling buzzed as Jungkook keep on trusting in and out of you, dragging your high.

“Gonna cum in so deep, gonna make make you swole with a baby. Mine, mine, all mine” Jungkook chanted as his pace is getting sloppy, chasing his own high. Warm ribbons of cum spurted inside your pussy as you milk him dry. 

The only sounds that you’re hearing right now is a buzzing, and how you two are breathing so heavily. He falls down next to you with his arm snaking around your waist. His breathing is fanning your neck before he left a kiss on your cheek. You're pushing his hair back from his sweaty forehead while he also helps you with your untangled hair.

“I’m serious,” Jungkook grabs your chin to make you look at him. Gone already the lust and the dark in his eyes, now replaced with pools of galaxies.

“About having a baby?" You asked.

"Yeah, me too,” you smile sweetly at him and he grins so wide, if you could list the most beautiful look on Jeon Jungkook’s face, one of it was when you said yes after he proposed. When you walked down the aisle, your first sex with him, and right now.

“Thank you, baby. You have no idea how happy I am right now,” he kisses your whole face.

“I thought you don’t want kids yet, since, well, since we never really discuss about it seriously.” You said softly, putting your head on his chest with finger tracing the skin. In contrast to your heated session, after sex is always soft and calm.

“You silly, of course I want them. I thought you’re the one who is not ready yet, because yea, I never wear condom whenever we made love, but you’re always on the pills, so I assumed you don’t want one, yet, and I also don’t wanna push you,” he whispers softly. You sigh, the way he uses the words “made love” and not sex. Instead of ‘let’s fuck’ it’s ‘let me love you’, and how can you not keep falling for this man. He is disgustingly nerdy and sweet and lovely.

“I will consult my doctor for the pills and we start from there okay?” You glance up, making a promise to him and he nods excitedly like a child.

“Come on up, pee-pee first. Always pee after love making.” Jungkook patted on your bare ass before he got up to carry you to the bathroom. 

Usually you’re woken up everyday to a big pair of warm hands rubbing circles either on your back or on your belly. Some mornings, the same hands just played with your head, the long fingers ran through the hair with a little pressure. Massaging the scalp. Some mornings, the hands get extra playful when they tickled your nose, your neck, your waist, poking the inside of your ears or pinched your cheeks.

These assaults always resulted in the owner of the hands winning. How can you beat the strength of a man with doe eyes, silly bunny grins and his boyish laugh?

His laugh booming in the room like a heavenly sound. But today, you woke up on your own. No hands. No head massage. No tickles.

Where is your husband? Is he showering? There’s no sound of water hitting the tiles. His phone is still charging by the bedside, he never let go of his phone. Strange. 

You freshened up before you leave the room to check on grandmama. But she’s not in her room too, well, considering the time and she’s an early riser, she’s probably somewhere around the house anyway.

Just as you thought you were left alone, you heard a very familiar giggles. They come from the outside of the house, and your feet are following the sounds.

A smile adorns on your face as you can see the backs of the most important people in your life sitting side by side. Both of them are facing the backyard garden.

You come closer and you can clearly see her wrinkled hands on top of his. He pulled his head back and laughing like a little kid, while she held onto his hands lovingly. Her laugh, though soft, can be heard along with his. 

You wanted to soak this moment in your brain so you could remember this for years and years. How the morning sunshine makes everything more picturesque, how his broad shoulders shakes when he laughs, how she leans on a chair, as old as she is.

Her brown chair, bought along with his husband’s big chair. The spot which was left empty ever since he passed away, and you wonder how lonely it is for her to be sitting there alone every morning and every evening.

You stood silently by the sliding door, not wanting to break the moment as so many sentimental memories flooding your mind. 

“Hey, babe? Good morning,” said the man as he turns around to face you. Wide smile on his face, post-laughing puffy cheeks.

“Good morning, Lilo” said another voice as she struggles to turn around. You don’t want her to strain her back so you immediately move to sit next to her legs. Kneeling closer like you always did, like a little girl listening to her favorite stories, you place your palm on her knees.

“Good morning, Grandmama. You had a good sleep?” Still not used to speaking louder to her. Brushing your hair she smiles fondly, “yes, yes”

“Where’s my good morning?” Pouted the man next to her. 

“Yes, Jungkook. Good morning to you too,” you roll your eyes playfully. 

If it’s not Grandmama’s hands holding him, Jungkook would have touched you, peppering you with kisses because it is his morning routine. 

But he woke up early today, because he guessed Grandmama is already up and he wanted to spend time with her. He was right, the moment he stepped out of the room, Grandmama was walking slowly to the chair outside of the house.

The lady who Jungkook assumed as the maid which Suri told you about last night, is plating a tray of toast and tea for her. 

Jungkook moves to help Grandmama settles on her chair before she insisted him to sit next to her. 

“That’s Grandpapa’s chair.” You jutting your chin at him, whispering but he can still hear you.

“Really?” Jungkook flustered because Grandmama really insisted him to sit on it and now knowing that this seat belongs to Grandpapa, he feels even more honored. 

“What are you two laughing about just now?” You glanced up to face your grandma with big eyes. Grandmama just chuckles and you can see your husband is biting his lips trying to hold back his laughter.

“Just, reminiscing old memories, sweetheart,” Grandmama replied. 

“Apparently, someone really hates wearing pants since she was a little girl. Humm, Grandmama did you know she still refuses to wear pants sometimes?” Jungkook leans closer to Grandmama’s ears as if they both are sharing some secrets. Pretending that you’re not even there.

With shocking wide eyes and gaping mouth, you knew exactly who is that little girl. It’s you. Grandmama just told Jungkook about your unhealthy habit, great, now Jeon Jungkook can collect another material into his teasing box.

“Did not!”  You gasp and giving your Grandmama a betrayal look. 

“What was she’s like back then? Running around naked? She’s a wild one isn’t she?” Both of them are ignoring you and Jungkook keep on firing questions to Grandmama.

You’re pretty sure the blush on your cheeks are from controlling the anger you have towards your husband right now. Definitely not because of embarrassing. Nope.

Seeing Grandmama laughing at both of you is making your heart swell. Your eyes land on her hands that has been holding Jungkook’s ever since you saw them. You were worried for nothing, and guilt is starting to creep on you as you were initially do not plan on bringing Jungkook along. 

Because first, you’re worried for him. Jungkook is not used to your family which is again, your fault. You didn’t properly introduce him to your family, not traditionally-proper. It’s not like you’re breaking the norms or rebelling or anything. It’s just you don’t feel that is necessary.

As long as you love each other, that’s all that matters. But you worried nevertheless. Worried they might not include him, what if Jungkook is uncomfortable because, dear god, Jungkook will never let you know if he’s feeling bothered. Very much like you, now taste your own medicine.

Secondly, it’s Grandmama, she has never met Jungkook, and yes, she is lovely but what if she suddenly doesn’t approve of him? That would break his heart. 

Now you realize that you’re worried for nothing, everyone loves him. How can they not? 

“I wanna take a short nap, you two can stay here.” Your Grandmama reaches for her cane as her wobbly legs trying to stand up. The maid rushed out to help her before Jungkook was about to carry her himself.

“You don’t have to carry and old lady like me, just carry your wife,” your Grandmama chuckles as she slowly walks back to her room. 

Jungkook rubs the back of his neck and sigh, he doesn’t mind carrying Grandmama. He once saw his dad carried his grandma on his back and he wanted to do that too. Shifting his gaze back on you who is still staring at him.

“Hey, the girl who hates pants,” Jungkook smirks cheekily. Here comes your Jungkook. “Wow I have no idea you hate pants. No wonder you don’t wanna wear one all the time. Oh wow,” he faked gasp at the fact. Mocking you.

“I will burn all of your pants the moment we got back, Kook,” words are seething through your teeth as you faked threatening him. 

“I don’t mind that, we can be pant-less together,” Jungkook leans back to the chair as he closes his eyes and takes a deep breath of the morning air. 

You're sitting next to him, only managed to stare at his beauty.

“Stop staring and come closer, please. I’m yours, you can touch me.” He said. Of course he caught you staring at him.

“I didn’t stare!” You blush.

“Put your head on my shoulder. Let me bask in this glory morning with my wife,” Jungkook speaks softly as he pulls your head closer to his shoulder. And you let him.

Feeling his steady breathing, cold cups of tea, half eaten toast, his humming of an unknown song, his hands on top of yours, a kiss on your head, and you really deeply seriously madly in love with this man. 

“By the way, Grandmama heard us last night, she said good job and she wants to see great-grandchildren real soon,” Jungkook said in a monotonous voice as if it’s nothing. 

Well, shit.

[pillowspace]

As you are slowly luring me into the dca fandom, I have question, if you wouldn't mind answering? Why is there so much y/n content in the fandom? All my other fandoms aren't really interested in y/n content (including isat) which makes me confused and delighted to see all these y/ns here?

Smiles at you

The thing about the DCA fandom is that it's a fandom very much spawned by a community. Some DCA content holds itself closer to Security Breach itself, while it becomes more clear in other works that the fans have created their own world amongst each other. Think of Undertale Multiverse. It's... Undertale, but the fans created something they liked, and thus it spawned a secondary fandom that's not just a subsection of Undertale but rather its own thing entirely.

The reason why you will see so much Y/N content in the DCA fandom more than any other fandom is that most of us have begun to see Y/N as a character, just like how UTMV has decided those Sanses all know each other. For many people in this fandom, Y/N doesn't feel like it's meant to actually represent YOU, but rather that they're a character all on their own with variety from artist to artist. It's also why Y/N content in this fandom is much more likely to have distinct features, clothing, and fleshed out personalities than in any other Y/N content. I have very very rarely seen a Y/N in this fandom to not be dressed up in an outfit just like any other character would be.

How the whole Y/N thing originated is that there was just simply very good fics springing up, people liked this character dynamic they could create for Sun and Moon that didn't exist within the game, it spread out into people's art, people wanted to see how they could change that dynamic to suit their own works... and it kept going. Until "Y/N" became just a character type. You'll actually find that most fics in the fandom or dialogue in comics don't even use the word Y/N, it's more a... term here, I suppose. Not always though, not always.

Of course, there will be variety in the fandom. Some don't even like Y/N, some prefer OCs, some aren't really interested in that at all, etcetera. But!!! As someone who's been here since the start to watch the growth of DCA, that's what I've gathered.

People in this fandom have always been so friendly. Everyone builds each other up. Kindest fandom I've ever been in.

[cherie-doll]

Hey Cherie!! It’s been so long hehe I hope you’re well 💖

Can I request a How the COD men reacts when their s/o was called a nasty name like ‘stupid cunt’? Once again projecting myself a bit here, I always regret being stunned and not punching that idiot in the face 🙂‍↕️🫠

Hope you stay happy and blithe and healthy ✨✨

May you forever stay cheerful as well, my beloved <3

Speech like this just comes off as extremely repulsive and obscene to me and I feel deeply for anyone who's had to deal with this. I won't go into detail but just know whoever is reading that it deals with this sort of theme and please just scroll or avoid if you want.

𓏴𓏴 Price, Ghost, Soap, Gaz, Roach, Alejandro, Rudy, Phillip Graves

Price

He does not let that fly in this base

Doesn't care if he gets called prude or mocked for not allowing it, he'd rather there be respect

Basic decency is something that is quite literally the bare minimum for soldiers

No way will he let you be dragged around with that filthy speech especially not when you're his s/o

He lets you know he'd gladly deal with it himself but you manage and tell him you'd like to take care of it

Ghost

He's not foreign to vulgar words or foul language but he isn't okay with it when it's used to degrade someone

He's heard it in public before but never has it been directed to you, seriously what was that guy thinking? That he could just say it in passing to you on the street and walk away like it was nothing?

Maybe he hadn't seen your tall masked boyfriend until he stopped and turned, heading to them and the look on their face

Eyes as big as saucers as Simon planned to rearrange their face

Soap

Quick, fiery temper strikes faster than a cobra

He's at their neck in an instant, trapping them in a death grip and staring daggers into them

He doesn't care that people are staring or that he could get the police called because he's shouting threats

And his anger won't subside afterwards, it leaves a stale feeling that has him crossing his arms and serious for the rest of the day

It had gotten him all riled up for the rest of the day that he's on the lookout for anyone else looking to insult you

Gaz

You've almost never seen Kyle get mad

Oh but he was furious, fire raging within him, knowing he was really about to do something when his jaw set hard and he went real silent

He didn't make a commotion, didn't shout or yell, just silently made his way over and took care of the problem

You didn't get to see what he did to the guy because he somehow made sure you didn't, and he wouldn't tell you either when you asked

Instead choosing to distract you with something else

Roach

He's not a fan of foul language and hates hearing it used even more but being around others so much he can't really avoid it

But the sentence that some idiot had the audacity to say to your face shocked him

How could they?

How much hatred could be within them that they're letting such words carelessly slip from their tongue?

He's worried about how you're feeling more than anything so he'll take you away before anything else could happen because he doesn't want you to show it hurt

Alejandro

Marking their grave as we speak

Don't be surprised if you see him already loading a gun

Oh boy, it's gonna be difficult to get him to calm down

He's cursing and throwing profanities much worse to the other person that they're already backing away fearing for their life

It would actually weigh down on him for a while and will get raging mad whenever he remembers

Rudy

Covering your ears immediately and glaring at the person who said that to you

He motions for someone else to take care of them while he asks if you're okay

Probably doesn't matter if you say yes or no, he focuses on not letting you dwell on those words

You're not those things and never will be, such words shouldn't be said to anyone else

And what do they know? He's shaking his head and sighing, doesn't know what to do with the anger

Phillip Graves

Yeah he allows cursing, hell he curses up a storm himself but this??

This is just unacceptable

This is the lowest form of using language incorrectly, the use of such words is as sickening as rotten food, can't imagine how much worse you would feel when it's said to your face

He's made sure to instill manners in his Shadows and he'll even send one home no matter how useful or great their skills are, but not everyone has had that great education and will freely no- carelessly use their speech for worse

Getting ready to drop a bomb on them or plan a quiet murder

[pocket-size-cthulhu]

Ok a couple of disclaimers before what I'm about to say next

This DID make me sick to my stomach to read

I DID avoid reading this when I first saw it posted bc I didn't want to know

I'm glad I eventually read it

Cause here's the thing. Like a lot of you, I was genuinely shocked at how the election turned out. Like many of you, I assumed that the people who found Trump an appealing candidate were a minority and most people would see Harris as the only sensible choice, regardless of if they loved her policies or not. But clearly that wasn't the case!

And the question I keep coming back to is, where's the propaganda machine that makes Trump look normal & attractive compared to Harris? How did it completely avoid me? I think the fact that it completely avoided me and like everyone I talk to, is almost as scary as the actual results. Obviously I know about echo chambers, but this is on another level. What other misinformation are people around me soaking up like a sponge that I'm not even aware of?

Like obviously my parents are watching Fox News and getting conservative ads on Facebook. That's bc my parents actively seek out conservative content. They get what the algorithm is feeding them.

How is the algorithm targeting and converting these "young undecided voters"? Is there "normal" stuff out there that people enjoy that is somehow conservative-coded + gets them targeted with ads? What social media are these folks on where they're getting these types of ads and content?

You know what I'm saying? This is completely not my field but I feel strongly that in order to stop and reverse the unhinged bullshit that's happening now apparently with people who are not actually much younger than me, we need to figure out how it happened. Even if it makes us nauseous.

It's comfy in my echo chamber but I don't want to (ever again) wake up one day in a world I don't recognize, that I perhaps could have done something about if I'd known sooner what was coming and how.

[milkbean69]

My thoughts on the Yandere Arcane Au

Tw: sorry y'all not good at writing yandere, yandere content

Okay before we get started we need to talk about what this universe of the undersity looks like pre- time skip. Honestly I think that this univers had a lot more progression in term of revolution and a lot less shimmer. Also considering the fact that Vander and Silco were able make up after Vi's death makes me think there was a lot less bloodshed between the two over the years. I mean of course silco when and found the note vander left but the fact that the crew is all laughing and partying together means there has to be new layers of loyalty amongst the crew caused by Vi's death.

Yandere's Vander and Silco:

OH GOD!!!! These two I swear, I honestly feel like in terms of protectiveness Vander would actually be worse. I mean he watched Vi die in the attack so you have that. He would not want to lose another.

If Vander was a platonic yandere, yeah no, your never leaving the Last Drop without him ever again. The trama he has from Vi is crazy. But if it was a romantic situation, he would be a little more lenient.

Now for platonic yandere Silco. I feel like a lot of protectiveness would come from a place of guilt and attonment. I mean his actions killed Vi during the pre-timeskip in this universe and he is probably still feel's guilty for that despite the fact that he has been forgiven.

So I feel like bring a young obsession or kid into the mix, would make him feel like he needs to make amends for what he did. Not only to prove to himself but for the others aswell that no other will die under his care.

Now them as a pair, would go crazy platonic or not. We need to remember something the two are brothers and the the pillars of the undercity. So the levels of communication and partnership are already there. There abilities to unite people would probably be where a lot of the Yanderness of the crew starts to fester. Always having someone with you, eyes and ears all over Zaun, and generally not being fucked with or else you'll have two of the powerhouse's of Zaun on you doorstep.

If this was romantic, they would share, God damn it. I don't know what it is but they would share, I just know it. You would be the king/queen of the Zaun in Silco's eyes, Vander hates it because he feels like if bring to much attention to you. Your always with on or the other. Silco defininatly spoils you, I mean you know he would.

Here me out, I feel like they both also have some fears from what happened to Felicia, so that definitly are supper on edge all the time because of that. One of both of them had to have liked her romantically, I was felling the vibes during the flashback.

Okay but I feel like they would be worse than the adults, in terms of platonic yandere's. Like we saw Vi's death really fucked them up. You would 100% be the Vi replacement. Expecally if you were older than them.

With Powder , it would be the worst. She wouldn't be violent, but more manipulative in certain ways., 100% a guilt tripper. Then would rope the other into it as well. Saying things to you about how you remind them so much of Vi, and there protection is just so you don't end up like her, so you should never leave them.

You probably wouldn't go on jobs, mostly saying in the last drop with Vander and Benzo. Maybe they let you go into Piltover, but you are always with someone. But never in the more dangerous parts of Zaun that have yet to be changed, and you still got to worry about the grey. the wouldn't want ther baby breathing in all that polluted air.

With a younger obsession, your never leaving there sights again. Even if you were a year younger than them, your getting little siblinged so hard. They have so much more experience now and realize all of the thing they did as kids was dumb and dangerous. They probably teach you how to fight just in case they are not there. But that is unlikely considering how mother hen they all are. If you ever when parkouring like they used to in piltover you would get an earful.

Powder and Ekko would make you little trinkets and gadgets. They'd make things to lure you in and bribe you. Or to love bomb you when you complain they are being to overprotective.

They would be so affectionate. Powder and Claggor the most, we all saw that scene with Claggor and Milo during the dance. Honestly I feel like Milo would be affectionate in the annoying older brother way, like ruffeling you hair and picking you. Ekko would be affectionate when you inationating it.

In tems of duos we would have Claggor with Milo and Powder with Ekko. Milo is the one to tease you alot, but he means well. He probably thinks he's the funnies guy on the planet, when in reality it's probably Claggor. Milo seems like the more aggressive on in terms of yandere's. He is the jokester character but see seems more scared that something might happen to you. That make him more aggressive and paranoid. While Claggor is more level headed and perceptive, but don't be mistaken, he has build and is the stronger of the two

Between Powder and Ekko, Powder is the one you need to worry about. She lost her older sister, Powder was the youngest of the group, so in her mind she is kind of filling Vi's role as older siblng, and must protect you like Vi did her. Should someone try to hurt there darling, Powder is the impulsive one but Ekko is the deadlier one between the two. Ekko is calm and more laid back, but he seems like he has the patience to go in for the kill on the first strike. Silent but deadly.

Now with romance, there all into you, sorry not sorry. I actually don't think they would have the company to share a darling. Powder and Ekko, maybe? But Claggor and Milo, definitly not. Milo would be that last to realize that everyone is pinning after the same darling, there all pretty perceptive so it wouldn't take them long to figure it out amongst eachother.

You would never have any partners, they would scare them all away. Powder would be the dustrusstful one spreading seed of dought anytime someone would flirt with you, saying there not good enought for you. Ekko and Claggor would be the intimidating ones, Ekko has the deadly glare while Claggor has the build to scare off any potital suitors. Milo is one of two, he is the one who likes to claim you already taken, usually with him saying he's you boyfriend, or the physical aggression type. He will get kind of pissy wanting your attention kind of annoying the person flirting with you. Then maybe ruffing the person's up after they leave your earshot so you don't see.

They would all try to one up each other in there own ways Claggor is the more laid-back type and lenient of yandere, so he would milk you needing to escape from the other craziness. Powder is clingy type and needs to be near you always. Ekko seems like the silent type, always lurking in the shadows, the man always has his eyes on you and knows where you are. Milo seems like the possessive and aggressive. Not aggressive in the, I'm going to hurt you type of way but someone else for looking at you the wrong type of way.

No matter who you end up with its going to be messy, I'm sure of it.

[moonandstarshyuck]

"Always."

lando norris x gn!bf!reader

notes: I haven’t written since 2019, so bear with me. I’ve found myself thinking about a little blurb for Lando recently (actually a lot of ideas, but this one is sticking with me more than the others at the moment).

For some context, Lando’s been receiving a huge amount of hate online (and in-person) recently. I haven’t been a fan for that long—I got into F1 this summer, in 2024—but I’ve grown to care about him. I was there for Lando losing the championship, and while I think we all knew it would come to this (Max winning felt inevitable) but I’m proud of Lando for pushing so hard this entire year.

Still, with all the hate directed at him, I’m seeing a new side of him, and I’m learning that he’s a person with feelings like anyone else. I can tell he doesn’t always have the highest opinion of himself and tends to take the blame for anything that goes wrong during his races. What struck me about this is how much I relate to it. I blame myself for things out of my control or when I mess up. What sucks with Lando is that his small, human errors are what so many people focus on to criticize him—whether it’s why he didn’t win the championship or why they think he’s a bad person (which he absolutely isn’t).

The inspiration for this came from an interview he did after the Brazilian GP. At that point, everyone knew it was almost mathematically impossible for Lando to win the championship, and he talked about struggling in the aftermath: “I literally couldn’t sleep for the first two days…So I did like, what, 36-40 hours straight. So that probably made everything worse. When you’re tired, you’re more moody, and that kind of thing…I was just sat at home alone. It probably would have been better if I had been with my friends. But they don’t live in Monaco. They also have lives and are busy doing other things. And I’m a big overthinker, so like the whole flight home, the whole week, it just played over and over in my head. What could I have done differently? Why did I do that? Why did I not do this? You start thinking of all the scenarios that you kind of blame yourself for, why it’s now not possible, that kind of thing. And yeah, because I overthink and I struggle with that kind of thing, that took a bigger toll in the days after. It wasn’t an easy time.”

And I keep on finding myself wishing someone could have been there for him in person, so that he was okay. So, I wrote this. The reader in this is dating Lando but is written as a gender-neutral character that uses They/Them pronouns. The reader also has a service dog, a Bernese Mountain Dog named Thunder, to help with their own depression and anxiety (I’m not an expert on service dogs, so this many not be 100% accurate).

They woke up that early morning to the sunlight shining on their face, streaming in from the window outside. The bliss of sleep clung to them as they lay there, cocooned in warmth, the covers snug around their body. They stretched lazily, blinking their eyes open.

Instinctively, they turned to look beside them—only to find the space next to them empty. It’s too early in the morning to be anywhere else but in bed, even for training, they thought. Lando should still be here.

The realization pulled them out of their sleepy haze. The past couple of days had been not kind to Lando. They knew that he had a tendency to keep his feelings bottled up and beat himself up over his perceived failures. They understood that feeling all too well—the guilt, the constant sense of disappointment, the nagging thought that were never good enough. They had wrestled with those feelings since they were a child.

It wasn’t something that had an easy fix. If they had found the answer, they would have shared it with Lando years ago. But they had learned that the best way to fight those thoughts wasn’t isolation. Talking to someone, writing feelings down, even simple positive affirmations—thought they might sound silly—could help push back against the negative spiral. They had told Lando this countless times.

But Lando had a problem with not wanting to “inconvenience” anyone with his emotions. No matter how many times they reassured him that they were always there for him, he struggled to let himself. They didn’t blame him—it was human to struggle against your own mind.

What made everything worse was the constant online hate. Every little mistake or sarcastic comment from Lando seemed to turn into an avalanche of criticism. They remembered the first time they’d seen him like a hateful comment about himself on Instagram—the little heart next to a cruel statement, paired with note: “Creator liked this.” It had broken their heart. How could the Lando they loved ever believe such awful things about himself?

After Brazil, it had been clear that he wasn’t okay. He’d barely spoken since coming home, choosing instead to himself. They had given him space, hoping he’d find a way to process his feelings. But by the second morning, when he still hadn’t come to bed—almost forty hours after returning home—they knew they couldn’t stand by any longer.

That morning, they rose slowly from the bed, a plan beginning to form in their mind. Lanod needed someone to step in—someone to remind him he didn’t have to face his struggles alone. They were determined to be that person for him.  They couldn’t take it anymore, seeing the person they loved so badly, punishing himself over his ‘failures.’

The first step was to confirm where he was. Grabbing their phone, they opened Twitch and navigated to Max’s stream. After a few moments of watching, they heard Lando’s voice—tired, strained, but unmistakably his. He was joking with Max, his words clipped, like he was holding himself together with sheer willpower. It was enough to break their heart. They opened their messages with Max.

Thunder's Owner

Lan’s streaming with you rn?

Sent at 7:48 AM.

After a few seconds, Max replied.

Maximilian

Yeah he’s on voice-only.

Sent at 7:50 AM.

Gonna do something about him?

Sent at 7:50 AM.

Max knew. Of course he did. He probably heard the exhaustion in Lando’s voice, the edge self-loathing that came with overthinking. They typed back quickly:

Thunder's Owner

Yeah

Sent 7:52 AM.

Going to unplug his setup and drag him out of there.

Sent 7:52 AM.

Maximilian

Lol.

Sent 7:52 AM.

I’ll keep an eye out for when he disappears.

Sent 7:53 AM.

Thunder's Owner

Thx

Sent 7:54 AM.

They quietly made their way to Lando’s gaming room and eased the door open. Lando sat at his desk, controller in hand, headset clamped over messy curls.  He looked worn down, his shoulders slumped as he focused on the screen. His voice through, muted put playful, as he bantered with Max.

For a moment, they just watched him. Even now, he was handsome, but the tiredness in his expression made their chest ache. He deserved rest. He deserved to feel okay. And he wasn’t going to get that by sitting here punishing himself.

As soon as Lando died in-game and leaned back in his chair, they seized the opportunity. They crossed the room, catching his attention when they came into view.

“Why’re you—” Lando began, frowning, but they didn’t let him finish. Reaching down, they unplugged everything from the wall.

“What the hell—” he exclaimed, spinning around in his chair.

“No,” they said firmly, cutting him off. “I’m not you hurt yourself anymore. Get up.”

Lando blinked, clearly taken aback. “You can’t just do that!” he protested, but they were already tugging gently at him arm, urging him out of his chair.

“Angel, what are you—”

“No,” they repeated, their voice steady. “Get up,”

Lando hesitated for a moment before letting out a resigned sigh and standing. They took his hand, leading him out of the gaming room and down the hall to the living room. He didn’t resist, but he followed like a man in a daze. Once they reached the couch, they turned to him. “Sit,” they said, pointing at the cushions. Lando raised an eyebrow, opening his mouth to argue, but they shook their head. “Stay.”

They turned to Thunder, who had been waiting for them in the hallway, and told him, “Thunder, guard,” while pointing at Lando.

The dog immediately moved into position, standing alert in front of the couch. Lando’s eyes widened slightly as Thunder fixed him with an unblinking stare. He shifted as if to get up, but Thunder’s stance didn’t waver.

“Jeez, I wasn’t going to get up,” he mumbled to Thunder, but Thunder just sat there and watched him until he fully relaxed back into the couch.

The thought ran through Lando’s head, how he had honestly forgotten how menacing his own dog could look. He knew Thunder was trained, saw reminders of it daily with how he interacted with his partner, but he was still shocked at how trained Thunder really was at that moment.

Thunder was still staring at him when he pulled out his phone from his pocket, opening up his texts with Max.

LN

I was just dragged out of my gaming room and told to sit on the couch and like a dog.

Sent at 8:05 AM.

Not against it, but how tf did they get so determined?

Sent at 8:05 AM.

Thunder’s watching me right now.

Sent at 8:06 AM.

I forgot how menacing he could be.

Sent at 8:06 AM.

*Picture attached.*

Lol.

Sent at 8:06 AM.

Max (The 1st One)

He’s like ‘try me, I dare you’

Sent at 8:06 AM.

LN

Yeah, I don’t particularly want to try him

Sent at 8:07 AM.

Max (The 1st One)

Lol.

Sent at 8:07 AM.

They told me before they did it

Sent at 8:07 AM.

I just let them. Lol.

Sent at 8:07 AM.

LN

Helpful. What if they were trying to  kill me?

Sent at 8:08 AM.

They wouldn’t have had to if you kept doing what you were doing.

Sent at 8:09 AM.

Lando’s let out a quiet sigh, Max’s words sinking in. He glanced at Thunder, who hadn’t moved, and felt a pang of guilt. He’d pushed himself too far again, and this time it had clearly worried his partner.

A few minutes later, his partner walked back into their living room. He thought they looked beautiful, wearing one of his old t-shirts and a pair of boxers. They were entirely focused on the bowl they were carrying, and only looked up when they got close enough to hand it to him. He gently took the bowl, looked into it and saw it was one of his prep meals. While not his favorite breakfast, he knew he just needed to eat first, so he started taking bites.

He glanced up every so often, and each time he did, his partner was just sitting there and watching him eat. Lando almost chuckled at his own thought that they looked just like Thunder when watching him, and he smiled into his bowl at the thought. His partner didn’t see his smile, but he continued to eat until he had finished the bowl.

When he was done eating, he set the bowl down, and his partner again pulled him up by the crook of his arm. He just let them do so, having a thought of what was going to happen next.

His partner led them both down the hallway to their bedroom, and opened the door, leading him to sit on their bed, then they turned around and went to close their blinds and draw their black-out curtains to cover up the sunlight from the window. They had turned on their bedside lamp earlier, and the soft orange glow of the lamp permeated the room. They walked past him again, going to close the door after letting Thunder in, then they walked back to their side of the bed, and pulled him to lie down against them.

As he settled against their chest, he felt a bit odd, it being a bit of a difference to feel how much he was loved by them. How much they cared for him. And he finally spoke again, “Thank you.”

“Always, Lan. Always.” They replied, pressing a kiss to his hair.

And for the first time in days, he let himself sleep.

author's note: got inspired to actually write something for once...ty @koalapastries for the inspiration (unknowing inspiration but ty) (also sorry for using your layout outline

comments & reblogs appreciated

and i made the dividers :)

[dangermousie]

I was chatting about this with a mutual and it made me want to expand this because I've been thinking about this for a bit on and off.

I think the disconnect/arguments between people who watch/read books/shows/movies etc, label things as green flag/red flag and complain when there are "problematic" characters or "dynamics" - both in terms of the narratives and people who enjoy these narratives being targets and people who like me love some intense/fucked up/weird stuff is because these two groups of people approach fiction in two fundamentally different and incompatible ways.

The former view it as a sort of aspirational content or self-insert - they want to watch/read about people/lives/situations they would enjoy being in/with in real life. It's sort of a self-insert wish fulfillment, the way other people watch youtube channels about traveling the world or cooking or home decorating - you imagine yourself in this.

And I think this is where the disconnect comes in - because a decent chunk of them assume everyone else uses fiction for the same reason so if you enjoy e.g., watching a dysfunctional relationship or a bad dude/lady or some world set up that is nuts it's because you think this is all great in real world and that you want to be (or be with) with a problematic partner/in problematic situation and you think it's morally worthwhile.

To that former "aspirational" type of fiction consumer, fiction taste = morality.

But the disconnect is that for that latter "we like fucked up/dark/problematic/intense/whatever" group it's not really about aspiration or self-insert. People didn't love Hannibal because they secretly long to run off and cook humans in a stew. The fans of 2ha don't really want to kidnap their hot teacher and keep them as a sex slave in a palace. Harem dramas aren't popular because women are dying to poison and frame others to get to sleep with a fat old powerful megalomaniac. Most of consumers of mafia romances don't really think it's a great idea in real life to be taken against your will by a hot killer with abs who can't control himself around you and is great at forcing you into orgasms against your will.

That latter group (among which I find myself) likes all that stuff precisely because it's nothing they have or want to have in real life. It's a safe way to explore fantasies that would not be great in real life (I assure you most people who have noncon fantasies don't want to be raped in real life; also in real life no most people don't want to bang a buff but super murdery villain; fiction is a safe place in a way) but also to explore situations and interactions and characters you would never want to in real life from the safety of the page/screen. To use a very easy example - think of the large audience of action movies. I am pretty sure most fans of action franchises don't want to be in car crashes/insane chases/explosions/etc. Any more than roller coaster enthusiasts want to actually be thrown upside down for real or horror movie fans want to either chase someone with an axe or be chased with one. I myself love really intense situations in fiction, ones that push characters to their limits and sometimes beyond, but I cannot imagine anything less pleasant to go through in real life.

Unlike with the self-insert group, this is actually the very opposite. It's like a game of what-if, a glimpse into an alien world fascinating precisely because of its difference with my life. An exploration of aspects of life/relationships that one could never safely or happily do in one's life but are interesting at a safe fictional remove.

This is getting repetitive so I am going to stop but I really do wish more people would understand that enjoying X in fiction does not mean enjoying X in real life (or approving of X in general.) I mean, I love period epics but you'd pry antibiotics and rule of law out of my cold dead hands.

The moral panic over fiction reminds me both the old "video games make you into killers" panic of a few decades ago and the much older belief that reading novels would wreck morals of society especially by those weak women since the novels' (lack of) morality would warp them. Most people have brains and use them and can distinguish between fiction and reality. I wish people would accept that.

P.S. A corollary is conflation of morality/quality/enjoyment. By that I mean I wish more people would accept that moral message, quality, and enjoyment of work are all three separate things. You don't need to prove that some fictional piece is immoral and/or badly made to justify you not enjoying it. It can be well done and just not for you. And conversely, you do not need to prove a work having societal value or being high quality to justify enjoying it. It's fiction. Just enjoy it or don't.

[teaandcrowns]

fanfiction.net also send emails, though the site itself has devolved into a hot mess imo.

I think there's a really important conversation to be had here around the type of content-as-content that social media has pushed and pushed and pushed on people the last decade or so, to instill some implication that something has to be recent, current, brand shiny new, in order to be worthwhile or worth giving deeper connection and attention to. Content-as-text*, if you will.

Written works—which include fanfiction, yes—are as permanent fixtures as we can get of content-as-text, and they are evergreen in allowing for connection and engagement, and fanfiction is open to this in particular with the capability of comments (and direct messaging).

I think there's another element to this regarding how engagement with content-as-content, which does not seem to encourage in-depth interaction, lengthy discussion, or a series of back and forths between creators and audience or even between members of the audience. Content-as-text, in my mind, is much more encouraging of that, and was also heavily encouraged by Web 1.0 primarily with forums and early Web 2.0 with interactive blogging-forum sites like LiveJournal. Web 3.0, with its focus on constant generation of content (as content), summarily leaves the space and, I would argue more importantly, time for longer and deeper interaction and engagement in its proverbial dust; it is not concerned with how people actually feel about the content so long as they are still consuming the content.

This brings me to a thought concerning what I, and others, have noted as a lack of what I have frequently seen termed "curating your fandom experience." Algorithms now decide what to content-as-content to show based off what you have seen before. There are (virtually) no more chronological feeds. You can only "sleep" functions rather than say, "No." In short, you are no longer the one with the most agency in your online experience if you choose to use or be on certain sites. If this has been someone's primary modality of interacting with any kind of fandom spaces (or any online community spaces), there can almost be no way to have true organic community the way humans have always made community and made connections. You are not encouraged to view something older as still relevant, you are not encouraged to curate your own spaces because you are being given things based off a calculation of your activity, whether or not that is accurate. It's become a commodification of our attention, because so long as we keep consuming, they will keep the conveyor belt of content-as-content churning and turning.

This is a very circumlocutious and somewhat long-winded way of saying that we need to start taking back our spaces, our time, and our attention. Don't sort AO3 by most kudos or most comments; try sorting by first uploaded. Try not sorting at all (after you apply your preferred filters) and go five, ten, twenty pages deep to see what you find. Interact with the content-as-text as it moves you. Choose who you want to follow—use the "blogs you follow" tab on tumblr instead of the "recommended for you." Engage meaningfully with other members of your communities and find others through those connections instead. Use fanfic rec lists made by folks; make your own and share them. Take back your attention, your time, and your spaces.

*by "text" I mean anything that we can experience, read, or view as an audience and think and interact deeply about across modalities, not just written word

not to be "comment on fanfic even if they are oooold"

But I just read a pretty good fic published in 2014-2015 (you know, roughly TEN YEARS AGO) and I was like, damn this is so cool, I have to leave a comment, even if you know, they probably wont see it...

The author replied less than an hour later.

[myanmardoesnotexist]

Analysis of Why Valentino Cares So Much

So, I know I write a lot of fanfiction, but perhaps my favorite thing about Rosquez is the psychology of Valentino, specifically his bizarre fascination with Marc (This is outside of shipping goggles btw). As the years go on, this fixation with one specific rivalry has become increasingly more clear, and I kind of just wanted to dive into why I believe Valentino Rossi cares so much.

To me, it comes down to two things:

#1: Marc was the first to really win (in Valentino's eyes)

With Stoner, Lorenzo, and Sete it was a rivalry for sure, and there was anger, but Valentino seemed to view it as sort of a game he could control. And he did control it, he came out the victor both to the public and on track. When they eventually got over their rivalries years later, it was Valentino being a 'benevolent king' with the vibe of sparing his enemy. Even if they beat him in the championship, ultimately Valentino won the game of relevance and importance in MotoGP. With Marc it was slightly different. Valentino got the entire racing world to turn against Marc (in a way he never had before with other rivals), and yet somehow it didn’t work. Marc kept on winning, he brushed off the hate, and he’s well on his way to matching Valentino is championships next year. Even if Marc's reputation never recovered, even if we know that Marc was very hurt by this, none of it matters because he is the more relevant one now. Marc is still riding, is on the currently best team (a team that Valentino failed to bring a championship to) and each year more and more people view him in a better light.

On top of that, Marc's name is up there with Valentino's as one of the legends in MotoGP history. Stoner, Sete, and Lorenzo are all brilliant drivers and some of the greats, but that top list is Agostini, Doohan, Rossi, and Marquez. Valentino is arguably still more legendary than Marc, but he will never be able to escape from the younger man. Their names are up there together forever, and to Valentino that is a first with a rival. He cannot look at any of it and say that he won, so it must mean he lost.

#2 Marc was the first to actually hurt him personally.

With Marc he clearly felt in some way personally betrayed. He liked Marc, this is almost undeniable. He was proud of him, he cheered him on, they hung out, honestly Marc was almost an unofficial VR46 student with the way their relationship was in those early days. Yes, Marc represented a passing of the torch, but Valentino almost seemed okay with it at that point. Until he became competitive again and found out that Marc doesn't just look up to him or admire him, but wants to beat him, point blank, and will ride on the limit to do that. This came in 2014, but honestly I don't think is was as prominent because Marc had such a dominant season it was hardly a real fight. 2015 though, it was Valentino really fighting for the title. And he probably expected Marc to bend the knee, to be on his side. Maybe not help him, but not impede him in any way. But they had their friction throughout the year, and the fact that Marc was racing him just as hard as he races everyone else got into Valentino's head. Because Marc was supposed to be on his side. So if he's not, he must be against Valentino and for Jorge Lorenzo. There is no in between.

So he lashed out, he let paranoia hit him, and yet somehow he still didn't get satisfaction. Because even though he did his best to hurt Marc, the other man barely seemed to flinch (which we all know isn't true, but to Valentino I think it is). And that would be particularly rough, because it would mean Marc didn't care. That all of that friendship was one-sided on Valentino's part, that he was the one used, which to someone like him, who always has control, would be new and very very uncomfortable. And so he created this narrative that Marc never liked him, Marc never looked up to him, everything was a lie and a manipulation, and he is a villain with no heart. Because I think to Valentino it is impossible to even act like he doesn't still care. So if Marc can do that, it must mean all of it was fake.

To me these two reasons are why Valentino can't seem to let go of this one particular rivalry, and seems so viciously angry about it ten years after the biggest incident happened. His crazy brain fascinates me, and even if you look at it through a purely platonic, non-shipper lens, its one of the most interesting relationships in MotoGP.

[twoflowers]

Stiff Shoulders, Weak Knees: Sanji x Reader

Read on AO3

Description: Sanji has been hard at work in the kitchen; you decide his stiff shoulders need a bit of attention. Predictably, Sanji is a mess. You didn't realize it would be quite this easy to get Black Leg Sanji on his knees. (SFW, suggestive)

Tags: Massage, nosebleeds (of course), light fdom, female reader, no use of Y/N, no description of reader, AND: (Sanji's constant need for validation of his cooking skills, Sanji's eternal need to be of use to the people around him, and Sanji's fantasy of being a fairytale knight kissing the hand of a beautiful queen he has pledged undying loyalty to. This man is a dork, people!)

Word count: 1276. Something short and sweet while I work on a longer fic based on a prompt by @mere-mortifer

Give this video a thumbs up if this man should actually get a massage in part 2!

Stiff Shoulders, Weak Knees

Sanji startles when you put a hand on his shoulder, not because he didn't sense you behind him (he could never fail to notice you entering a room, has been feeling pleasant, anticipatory prickling on his scalp and the back of his neck since you entered the kitchen), but because you've never touched him like this before. An occasional brush of arms, sure. A slightly more frequent brush of fingers, absolutely. He only seems to lose his grip on dishes when he's handing them to you, which is by complete coincidence. 

But your hand is firmly on his shoulder, fingers settling above his collarbone even when he turns to look at you.

“May I make anything for you?” He asks automatically. He carefully avoids looking at your hand in case you're touching him by accident - best not to remind you.

You smile fondly. “After tonight's dinner, I don't think I could eat anything else if I tried. It was excellent.”

Sanji can already feel his knees weakening. Excellent: now there's a good word, a perfect word, that he'll hold onto for later. 

“I'm so glad you think so. I thought of you especially while making it.”

“You say that to all the ladies.”

“It's true.”

Your hand is still on his shoulder. You tighten it a bit, perhaps appreciatively, perhaps condescendingly. He isn't sure which option he likes best.

“I brought my plates back down.” You gently set them in the sink with your other hand, and Sanji immediately picks up his sponge again. He doesn't know when he dropped it. 

“I'll get them done right away,” he stutters. “You're sure you don't want anything? A nightcap? Some tea? - I have a wonderful hibiscus from our last time on shore that would pair nicely with-”

“Sanji…” The quirk of your lip makes it certain: you are condescending him. A small shudder racks his shoulders.

“Mm?” His eyes flicker back and forth from you to the dishes. 

“You're working too hard,” you squeeze sharply at his shoulder, and he jumps at the pain. He's biting his lip when he finally makes eye contact, cheeks already starting to flush.

“See? Your muscles are so stiff.” You move behind Sanji, slipping your other hand up his back and to his opposite shoulder. You dig your thumbs into the muscles bracketing his spine, and he jerks forward toward the sink as if pulled by an invisible force. “Does that hurt?”

“You could never hurt me,” he breathes. 

“Oh?” You tighten your grip, thumbs poking deeply into his stiff back and stroking upwards to his neck. Hard, firm pressure. 

Sanji’s hands reach out to grip the edge of the sink. The sponge falls forgotten into soapy water. His knuckles are white, arms trembling. “Nothing… you do to me could ever hurt me.” His voice is wavering in a delicious way. “Even if it’s painful.”

You hum thoughtfully, dipping one of your thumbs under the collar of his shirt. Skin swipes against skin, and Sanji lets out a whine. 

“We can’t have our cook in anything less than peak condition, can we?” You mumble, still thumbing his soft skin. 

Sanji lets out something halfway between a gasp of pleasure and a laugh of disbelief, hands clenching still tighter.

“We need you healthy,” your hands move down his back, resting just under his shoulder blades. “I need your cooking.”

Somehow, that’s what breaks him. He arches forward with a groan, shoulders shaking.

“Let me help you relax,” you offer. “How about a massage?”

One of Sanji’s hands shoots from the sink to under his nose. He audibly swallows; blood dribbles down his fingers as he pulls his hand away. He nods weakly.

“What was that?” You can’t help but prod, not when he’s this vulnerable. Sometimes you feel like Sanji is a big bruise that you can’t help but poke at.

He nods again. Your hands instantly find his waist, thumbs stroking circles through his suit jacket.

“Use your words.”

“Please. Anything.”

“Such good manners,” you coo. You slip your hands away from Sanji, savoring the way his body freezes in anticipation. You take a lace handkerchief from the counter and gently cup his chin, turning his face towards you.

He looks so small, curling forward like he can’t trust his knees to hold him upright. His face is an impressive shade of red, almost as dark as the blood dripping over his plush, bitten lips. His eyes, surprisingly, aren’t as gleaming and heart-shaped as they usually are around you. 

You can’t help but grin at having finally caught him so off-guard. His eyes become wide, almost frantic, as you swipe a thumb over his chin. There you are. Finally, finally, I’ve reached underneath.

You hold his face more firmly and bring the towel up to clean him, but he flinches. Not away from you- you have a feeling he couldn’t move away if he tried.

“I don’t want to stain it,” he all but begs. “It was… I was planning on using it for plating your evening tea.”

“I told you I’m not hungry.” It’s blatant, obvious teasing, but Sanji’s eyes droop miserably nonetheless. 

“Here we go…” You wipe the handkerchief under his nose. Blood saturates lace, and Sanji’s eyes flutter shut in defeat. 

When you’re done, you pull away and fold the cloth carefully. Sanji watches in equal parts confusion, misery, and awe. When you tuck it into your pocket, Sanji gasps, another trickle of blood falling onto his lips.

“I just finished cleaning you up,” you scold. 

Sanji’s lip quivers from the humiliation, but you quickly lean forward and place your lips under his nose. It’s barely a kiss. You pull away shortly after, tongue darting out to taste his still-warm blood. 

Sanji drops to his knees so hard you hear bone hit wood. His shaking hands grasp one of yours, pulling it to his lips: no contact, just puffs of hot, frantic breath. One knee up, and he’d look like a soldier being knighted by his queen. 

“May I?” He’s trembling. He almost looks like he’s salivating. Your hand is small in his, but his are so much softer, skin scrubbed down from washing dishes, still red-tinged from the sink’s hot water.

You nod, and he gasps into the first kiss. His lips linger on the back of your hand, wet and bloody. You flip it over, and he moans, kissing your palm and trailing up your inner arm. The entire time, his eyes are on yours, searching for the faintest hint of displeasure. 

“Sanji?”

He immediately pulls away, breathing hard, still tentatively holding your hand. 

“Yes?” He looks ready for any command. Blood is smeared across his face and up your arm. You didn’t realize it would be quite so easy to get Black Leg Sanji on his knees, but you should have expected as much.

“The goal was to make you more comfortable. You look like you’re hurting your knees.”

Sanji shakes his head with enough ferocity that his bangs are knocked out of place, almost covering his other eye. “I could never complain about being allowed this.” 

He looks at your arm with some panic, then begins to wipe the blood away with his own shirtsleeve. 

“Sanji. Stand up.”

He obeys immediately.

“We are going to go to my quarters,” you say. 

He nods along dumbly. 

“And you are going to lie on my bed.”

His face flushes a brilliant red.

“And I’m going to give you an incredible massage.”

He swallows, swaying forward on his feet. You take the cue to grab him by his tie and lead him down the hallway, dishes long forgotten.

[cremedolle]

currently updating: prtygrl scent reviews 🍰🎂🧁

perfume oils

1. strawberry cake

my absolute favorite perfume oil of hers! it has a strong, sweet strawberry cake smell and i love using it with every single strawberry lotion, body oil, and perfume of mine! i loved it so much that i had to purchase it twice. i definitely need this scent in a body nectar + body milk version as well.

2. cozy sugar

i actually bought this one for my mom, but it has a soft and sweet sugary scent! it goes perfectly with any vanilla or cashmere perfumes / lotions!

3. cake pop

very soft & subtle!! it smells like a sweet vanilla cake + icing. i actually paired it with the pink sugar oil and they smelled so good together. i'll definitely be doing that more often

4. pink sugar

totally reminds me of the aqoulina pink sugar mist! if anything it smells a little better and it's not as powdery which can be a little overwhelming at times

5. sugar cookie

i don't like this at all... i didn't like the way it smelled in the bottle so i put some on my arm and it was okay, but then it just grossed me out?! i tried pairing it with my vanilla cashmere lotion + sweet tooth perfume combo and i still disliked it. i ended up tossing it, but so far this is the only prtygrl item that i disliked!

6. flower fields

i also disliked this when i first smelled it. it smells kinda weird in the bottle? i put some on my arm and i ended up liking it though! it's like a fresh flowery scent and i think i might use this with my daisy dream by marc jacobs perfume.

7. warm cream

a creamy vanilla scent that goes good with anything vanilla scented and more! i personally love layering vanilla scents with something strawberry or fresh like.. it smells so good to me! if you want to play it safe for your first purchase, i definitely recommend!

body nectars

1. strawberry vanilla macaron

my faaave body nectar from prtygrl! it has a heavenly sweet strawberry scent and when i put it on my body i was literally glowing. it's also strong too and very long lasting. pair it with the strawberry dream eos lotion + daisy love by marc jacobs you'll smell edible. i'm literally obsessed with this scent and i desperately want this in a shimmery version / a shimmery body milk as well! if you're a sweet strawberry lover then you will love this 100%!

2. brown sugar baby

omg how do i describe this.. it smells like a brown sugar syrup to me? something thats in a sweet yummy drink? that isn't bad at all because it smells delicious and edible! i love pairing this with vanilla scented perfumes and also the cinnamon buns body milk! this is easily my second favorite body nectar.

3. pink sugar

smells pretty much the same as aqoulina pink sugar mist. this smells a bit more powdery than the perfume oil which i don't mind since it's soo nice. it's also very light and not a very strong scent which i find nice to layer with!

4. strawberry milkshake

so delish and truly smells like a real strawberry! i can also smell slight milky notes too and i jus love it. it's also subtle and perfect for layering as well so i enjoy using this with my strawberry cake perfume oil + other strawberry fragrances that i own!

5: strawberry shortie

this definitely smells like strawberry shortcake / a strawberry pastry! it has a warm cake scent + the perfect amount of sweetness thats not too overwhelming or overly sweet. this is perfect for the people that want to smell like a strawberry pastry, but one that may not be overwhelmingly sweet.

body milks

1. brown sugar baby

smells exactly like the body nectar. these have a thick consistency and once rubbed it, it's just as shiny as the body nectars! i love using this on top of my vanilla cashmere eos lotion + vanilla scented perfumes / cake pop & warm cream perfume oil.

2. cinnamon buns

would you believe me if i said it smells like a freshly made cinnamon roll? my first impression of it is a strong cinnamon scent, but after putting it on it a lot like sweet cinnamon rolls! once again, perfect for using on top of vanilla cashmere eos lotion + warm cream perfume oil.

[sfaira]

If you are so eager for a finished project, find a shovel for your own grave

I expect there would be some people, especially in Poland where I'm from saying "but school sucks and the essays don't actually make you think, just train you for tests!" And yeah, I was once told by a teacher that the point of the essay is to hit the marks for the exam, and no one cares what I think. The same teacher got essays from me where I argued no gender is better than the other or similar stuff and then defended them against the "not on topic" low marks. Even with terrible limiting guidelines there is still place to wiggle one's opinions in and maybe practicing how to do that in a world that's trying to mold us into the most boring, unthinking consumers is a valuable skill.

[blissfullyecho]

My Skinny Tips for the Holidays

If you’re in the US, Thanksgiving is this week and next month begins all the holiday parties and events for Christmas, Hanakkuh, Kawanzaa, and all other winter holidays that will include a ton of processed and sugary foods, seasonal coffee’s and fun drinks, and alcohol.

A note for the dieting police out there: Don’t even try it with me.

How I Manage the Holidays + My Body

So generally during November and December, I eat very clean (except for the holidays). I allow myself a Thanksgiving plate with everything (literally everything), dessert, sugary fun drinks/alcohol, and leftovers. This is the same thing I do with Christmas dinner as well. I don’t limit what I eat on the actual holidays, but the other days I do.

How I Eat on Non-Holiday Days

So like I said, I eat very clean in Nov and Dec because I know it’s going to get crazy on Thanksgiving and Christmas Day. So I stick to eating mostly vegetables, soup, and lean protein. I actually stop drinking smoothies this time because I’d rather eat my protein than drink it so I’m not feeling hungry so soon. I get hungry faster when I drink a smoothie than I do with actually eating, so I eat more (just sticking with veggies, soup, and lots of lean protein). I do cut back heavily on bread, rice, and pasta; but my main source of carbs comes from fruit, sweet potatoes, and corn (corn is carb-heavy). I also cut OUT added sugars. I read the label on everything. 0g of added sugar is what I get. Like I said, I still indulge on whatever I want during the actual holiday meal which are things loaded in sugar, so I cut back for the month. And for everyone saying “it’s restricting” … babe, respectfully, shut up. Cutting out added sugar that does nothing for you except make you crash, bloated, ruin your gut lining, decrease collagen production, can increase your A1C (diabetes risk), and turns straight to fat is not restricting. You’re gonna have that stuff on the holidays— you can cut it out for 3 weeks, I promise.

Managing Holiday Office Parties & Community Events

I still enjoy the office potlucks and other mini events because I usually reach for the protein options instead or the veggie options. I’ll have the turkey, the ham, the deviled eggs (deviled eggs hate to see me coming), the cranberry chicken salad, etc. I still enjoy myself, I’ll just not have the pumpkin pie, the Mac and cheese, the stuffing, etc. because I’m saving that for my actual Thanksgiving/Christmas meal. Also… I do not trust other people cooking for me unless I’m there watching things happen. I don’t know what goes on at your house lol.

… But what if Paula from HR brought in her world famous (insert sugary, fatty, super processed, but super yummy food here)?

I’m most definitely going to have something if it’s something I can’t get anywhere else. If there is something that I know looks good (or is actually good) and I’m not gonna have it at my Thanksgiving or Christmas dinner, then I’ll have some. I don’t say no because it’s not part of my “diet”. There’s this girl I used to work with and she would bring in these cheesy, turkey, apple, and cranberry sliders. They were SO GOOD. I would have 1 slider and then load up on the celery and other veggies or fruit.

Alcohol

I’m not drinking alcohol unless it’s Thanksgiving, Christmas, or NYE. That’s just a no go for me. When I drink, I like to drink socially. But there’s 3 days for the rest of the year where I’m going to be drinking all night, so I don’t have any alcohol unless it’s the day of the holiday.

Bring in a healthy side option

For my office potluck, I’m making a fruit bowl, a veggie plate, and a large charcuterie board. My work bestie and I will prob be the only ones picking off of the veggie plate, but at least we do have options to load up on in case Paula from HR brings in that delicious yummy option and we want a full plate of food like everyone else.

If I’m going to have it on Thanksgiving or Christmas, I’m not going to have it anywhere else (unless it’s protein)

I will skip the sweet potato casserole and the macaroni and cheese because I’m going to have it on my Thanksgiving and Christmas. Again, I don’t care for home cooking unless I was there watching you cook for me (or if you’re a cute old lady or a grandma, I trust them so much). But the point is, I’m not going to have 8 Thanksgiving dinners this month. I’ll have one with my family and that’s it. I’m not even doing a Friendsgiving this year (but that’s only because we’re all traveling or working). But the main reason we gain weight during the holidays isn’t because we have a treat or two, it’s because we are having a Thanksgiving or Christmas meal every 2 seconds.

What’s on my Thanksgiving/Christmas plate?

I eat whatever I want, but I’ll only have a plate and a slice of dessert. I don’t get seconds or thirds. I’m a one plate girly and that’s it but I load my plate with everything and I give myself solid amounts. I don’t put tiny scoops of anything on my plate. I’d rather have food on my plate that I can’t finish rather than me cleaning my plate because I didn’t put enough of anything on there and still feeling hungry and restricted. I want to enjoy myself with my family. Thanksgiving and Christmas isn’t the time to feel restricted. For dessert, I’ll have a slice of a dessert. This year I’m being told we’re having pumpkin pie and Dutch apple pie, which are both my favorites. So I’m going to have HALF a slice of pumpkin pie and HALF a slice of the apple pie and it’ll equal to one full slice. With alcohol, I’m always drinking water. I actually drink water with my meal and drink alcohol around the meal. I personally like to stick to red wine.

How do I handle leftovers?

My family likes to give the kids (which would be me, my sibling, and our cousins) the leftovers so we can take it home. I try to take most of the protein, green bean casserole (my all-time fav omg), and deviled eggs (my grandmother makes the best, it’s impossible to beat her tbh) whereas my sibling and our cousins like to take the macaroni, garlic mash, stuffing, sweet potato casserole, and the other foods.

Exercise

I’m exercising everyday. Even on Thanksgiving and Christmas I’m exercising. I have my own routine but on Thanksgiving and Christmas, I’ll also be doing a hot (plump) girl walk after my meals to help my food digest. But even on my rest days, I’m doing active recovery.

The whole month isn’t a holiday.

I think you just have to manage the holidays by reminding yourself that’s it’s not Christmas or Thanksgiving everyday. You don’t need a full Christmas or Thanksgiving plate each day. Still enjoy the fun Starbucks drinks or Kelly from the marketing department’s apple pie, but order the tall Starbucks and not the grande or venti. Have a slice of the pie and not 1/3 of the pie. Don’t eat the candy on the table that you don’t really care for but it’s within reach so you eat it anyway. Save that for something you actually do like.

…And for anyone who is going to rage type a weird message saying I’m promoting anything unhealthy, please save yourself the time.

Happy Holidays! 🤍

✨ My new book “The Luxe Girl’s Playbook” is available now (this is the link). It’s about going into 2025 a brand new, leveled up version of yourself mentally and how you can make everyone that doubted you absolutely sickkkkk. It’s the mental diet we all need. It’ll be unavailable mid-December 2024 🫶🏼