#the making love description is so subtle yet so intense i love it | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

astraystayreblogs · 1 year ago

Text

i genuinely love this sooo much :")) you wrote this so beautifully and it flowed so naturally, but i am not surprised at all since YOU wrote it!!!!

forgive me for what i haven't done

summary: you arrive at your enemy's kingdom under the guise of making peace. the prince being nice to you wasn't part of the plan.

genre: strangers to lovers, hurt/comfort

warnings: she/her reader, reader's father is emotionally manipulative and physically harms her, mentions of violence

word count: 17.5k

a/n: absolute massive thank you to @sulfurcosmos, @isilentprincess, and @woahfruity for reading this through and giving me your honest feedback. i truly appreciate you <3 this fic has sent me through the five stages of grief.

you can’t ignore the bruising grip your father has on your arm as he walks you to the steps of the large palace. the journey here was a mere two hours, but it feels like this palace was built out of another world altogether. it’s shorter than your own, absent are the dull reaching peaks and towers of your home, traded for warm bricks covered in snaking ivy and the shining sun peeking through powdery clouds. where it lacks in height, it makes up for in its expanse. the building was wider than any you’ve ever seen.

it was more beautiful than any building you’ve ever seen, too.

you hope your nerves don’t show as you throw one last glance back at the carriage you arrived in; it would soon take away your handmaidens that had made the journey with you, and you wouldn’t see them again until you went home. it makes your heart ache that the only people you felt comfortable with were leaving you behind. you try and focus on the present instead, knowing that wallowing in self-pity would get you nowhere. you had hours of meeting strangers ahead of you, making polite small talk with them and learning whatever information you could about the royal family until you could go to bed and be upset in private. you weren’t here for pleasure anyways, your father had reminded you as the carriage had pulled in. you were here for a reason.

the first person you make eyes with is the king, a kind looking man, hair and beard speckled with gray and a soft smile on his face as he takes in his visitors. he had invited you and your father here, a gesture of goodwill, an unspoken plea for peace between your two kingdoms.

“they want peace,” your father had scoffed, throwing the letter from the neighboring king to his desk. you watched as it slid off and fluttered to the floor. “the scum that killed your grandfather want peace, and they dare ask me to negotiate a treaty with them.”

“well,” you started, swallowing down your nerves like you did every time you spoke to your father. since your mother passed, all those years ago, you had taken over the role of his confidant, like he did with her. though, he never listened to your advice when you gave it; you were simply a body for him to talk at, to pour out his grief and frustration out on. “did the king not overthrow his own father? he is not the man that hurt our family, and i assume neither are his sons. can we not let the past stay in the past?”

the two kingdoms are small - a unity between you would open opportunities for new trading, allies in battle, new paths to resources that your people don’t see.

“their bloodline is rotten,” he says, definitive. “i would be doing the world a service by ridding it of their pitiful existence.”

his words of extremity did not surprise you; he spoke of all of the neighboring kingdoms in this way. he was not one for alliances, keeping the borders of his territory locked to outsiders, deeming them not fit to enter his kingdom. you can barely remember a time when foreigners or immigrants inhabited the now barren lands.

“and the people in their kingdom?” you question. “they are truly innocent. will they be given refuge here once their kingdom has fallen?”

“i do not care!” he spits out at you, eyes burning in anger, and you shrink back a little. “they will burn along with their miserable rulers. i will find a way to take them down, all of them, to make them pay for what they did to my family. and you, gods help me, will do as i say.”

and you would. in truth, you had barely even considered going against him. you were alone, you had no options other than following through with his wishes, no escape from him and his cruelty. you had nowhere to go that he would not find you. and yet, he remained vexed as he moved closer to you, speaking quietly in a manner that was more terrifying than if he was yelling at you. his fingers curl around your upper arm, like a warning-

“welcome,” the king’s voice breaks you out of your memory, and you muster up a smile for him. “thank you for making the journey here. and please, call me stephen. you are esteemed guests here, no need for formalities.”

your father doesn’t offer the same notion back, nodding coldly at your side. king stephen furrows his brow for a moment, and it’s clear on his face that he’s caught off guard. so expressive for a royal, you muse as he shakes his head and the smile returns to his face.

“my sons,” stephen gestures to the boys standing by his side, the ones you had yet to lay your eyes on. “crowned prince christopher, his betrothed, the lady roseanne, and our youngest, felix.”

betrothed? you did not know the older son was engaged. this complicates things. you can feel the anger coming off in waves from your father, and you place your hand on his forearm for a moment. not now, please, you mentally beg, and you almost sigh in relief when the tension leaves his body, turning your attention to the two royals in front of you.

the taller of the two dons a mop of curly hair under his circlet, cleanly pressed clothes shining with the royal blue of their family. a striking woman is at his side, an arm loosely curled around his. as he moves forward to greet your father, linking arms like the king had, your attention is drawn to the boy left standing alone.

the shorter boy is what you can only describe as ethereal. his features are sharp in all the right places, smoothed out by soft planes and dips covered in starlight scattered freckles. his clothes are similar to that of his brother’s, but no crown adorns his head.

he might be the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen. it makes your knees weak.

“i am felix,” he says, his voice deeper than you would expect from the gentle features of his face. he dips his head a bit, a sign of respect, as he takes your hand and presses a gentle kiss to the back of it. your voice is steady when you respond with your own name, and you’re glad for it.

his attention is diverted when your father’s hand lands on your shoulder, his touch more gentle than it ever is whilst away from prying eyes.

“my daughter, princess y/n,” he announces, a proud smug on his face when you shyly curtsey. he must think your timidness is a ploy to get their trust, and not as a result of the raging nervousness boiling under your skin.

“it’s an honor to meet you, your highnesses,” you meet each of their eyes, looking for any sign of malice, but you find none.

“come inside, please,” the king beckons, and the circle of knights that had been flanking him move aside gracefully to make way to the tall archway leading inside the palace. you’re once again taken away by the beautiful architecture inside, melting candles lining the walls made of warm brick. “we will begin the peace talks tomorrow, spend the day settling from your journey.”

“we will go freshen up,” your father states, cutting your exploration short with a poorly concealed fake smile donning his face. you hope no one else can see through him the way you can. “and we will meet you for dinner?”

he doesn’t wait until the king answers before he pulls you off to a hallway, beckoning over a servant and barking at him to show you both to your chambers. you pray to the gods that your hosts see your father’s unorthodox behavior as a difference in customs, rather than rudeness. the servant looks flustered, eyes wide as he directs you to your adjoined chambers, and you almost feel bad for him. you’re sure he can tell when your father’s anger returns, getting stronger the further you walk from the royal family, and you keep your head bowed until the two of you are behind closed doors.

he lets go of your arm harshly, almost throwing you off of him in his haste and if you weren’t so afraid you would remind him that he probably shouldn’t yell as you’re sure he was about to do.

“he is engaged?” he growls out, teeth gritted together in fury. “this was not in the intel that i was given. this does not fit into our plan!”

his plan was for you to woo the prince, get him to fall in love with you, and then to kill his father and take the throne. nevermind the extensive gaps that he didn’t care to think out, that you weren’t brave enough to tell him about. the thought of the prince not going along with the neighboring king taking over his kingdom never crossed his mind; it was either extreme hubris or immense stupidity on his part. perhaps it was both.

“will i have to marry him? the prince?” you asked, avoiding his eyes. you kept your voice as leveled as you could, but you couldn’t completely mask the apprehension you were feeling.

“you will do whatever is necessary to gain his trust. if the boy proposes, you will accept.” he said, clinical and cold like he wasn’t gambling with your life. if your father was correct, these men were murderers, men who killed others in cold blood. what would the prince do if he discovered your father’s plan? how long was he expecting you to keep up this charade?

“control yourself,” he says when he takes in the tears pricking at your eyes, the wobbling of your lips as the gravity of his words sink in. “those of our class do not weep so easily.”

“what do we do now?” you ask, regretting it almost immediately when his anger turns towards you. you had wished, foolishly so, that he may forget this revenge-fueled nonsense and let you go home.

“i do not know, stupid girl. why do you not think of something instead of having me do everything for you?” you pray that no servants were listening in through the door, and no knights were making their patrol past the hallway. with how loud he’s speaking, there would be no hiding his ill intentions. “i thank the gods you were born a woman and i can marry you off. with how useless you are, there would be no helping my kingdom with you as a ruler.”

the words sting, your heart aches at the cold insult he’s thrown at you, but it’s not the first time he’s said something like this. it’s at the tip of your tongue to tell him that this wasn’t even your plan, that you didn’t want to betray this kingdom in the first place, that you’re tired of being his pawn in a game only he wants to play. you want to tell him that you would be a better ruler than he is if given the chance, that you almost hope for the day that he keels over and dies because you would be free of him. but you’ve learned to hold your tongue in times like this, knowing that he only says these things out of frustration; flashes of the kind man he used to be when you were younger play through your mind, calming you down as you scramble for some kind of answer.

“i will go after the younger one,” you start, a half-baked plan forming in your head. “if king stephen and christopher are out of the way, he is next in line for the throne, is he not? we just have a couple more people to get out of the way. befriend the king, distract him and make him trust you. i will handle the prince.”

you disappointed yourself by expecting some kind of verbal affirmation, some kind of praise for doing something right, but all you get from your father is a curt nod and a gesture to leave his chambers.

a nod was better than nothing. a nod was silent assurance that you were doing something right, that he was wrong about you. that you could think for yourself.

when you enter the hallway, you catch a glimpse of the servant from earlier peeking around the corridor. you smile at him, hoping that he had heard nothing and that your face didn’t betray the whirlwind of emotions clouding around in your head. he simply smiles back, foxy eyes crinkling and he nods at you before disappearing.

───•───•───✧𓆩⟡𓆪✧───•───•───

dinner was an incredibly awkward affair; all throughout the meal, you couldn’t avoid meeting eyes with felix from where he was sitting across from you, and you flushed and looked away every time. his eyes were striking, soft browns highlighted with specks of gold reflected from the candlelight. this was the boy you were supposed to woo and manipulate, and you couldn’t even meet his eyes. gods help you.

you weren’t sure if your hosts could sense the concealed hostility in your father’s voice, but you could. he was doing a poor job of hiding his apathy, answering king stephen’s questions with short words or grunts. he eyed his food with judgment and took hesitant bites, even though you thought it was exceptionally made.

even the banquet hall itself was remarkable, banners of blue and gold hanging from the tall ceilings and plants of various kinds lining the walls. light shone down from the high windows, bathing the royals in front of you in a golden light.

“is the food not to your liking?” king stephen asked, a small frown gracing his features when he saw your father’s mostly full plate.

“this is amazing, like nothing i have ever tasted before,” you voiced, directing the attention to yourself. your own plate was nearly scraped clean, and you might have licked it to savor the flavors if you didn’t have your royal dignity to uphold.

your heart pounded in your chest from addressing the king so directly.

“good, i am glad,” stephen smiled warmly at you, quelling your nerves, and his smile reached his eyes in a way your father’s hadn’t for years. “i shall make sure to send your compliments to our main cook, he was worried that the meal would not suit our guests’ tastes.”

“minho worries too much,” christopher laughs, meeting eyes with his fiancée. the way he looks at her sends warmth up your spine, like you’re witnessing kindling sparkling into a burning flame. “his cooking is the best in the entire kingdom.”

it might have turned you off that he was boasting like that if it wasn’t about someone whose status was below his. a crowned prince, giving compliments like that to a palace worker? kitchen staff, at that? it was different, for sure.

the thought stuck with you for the rest of the night, even as your head hit your pillow at night. though you weren’t so naive to think that first impressions were indicative of their entire nature, it seems that the image of this royal family that your father painted for you might have been more skewed than you initially thought.

───•───•───✧𓆩⟡𓆪✧───•───•───

while your father spent the next day with king stephen and their advisors, beginning the process of drafting and scrapping and rewriting peace treaties that you knew would never come to fruition, you were left to your own devices. venturing out of your chambers where you were bound to run into strangers was unsettling, but you pushed the feeling aside as you got dressed.

your father no doubt assumed you were jumping right into spending time gaining felix’ trust, but you didn’t know how to approach the younger prince to fulfill your part of the deal. you didn’t even know how to find him, or who to ask for his whereabouts; the sheltered walls of your home did not provide many opportunities for you to practice talking to people.

the people here did not seem to have the same problem. wherever you turned, visiting nobles and palace staff sent you smiles, casual how are you’s and i hope you slept well’s handed out to you like spare change. it made your head spin, and the desire to retreat back into your chambers was strong.

you found your way outside instead, through an archway made of brown stone. the fresh air often helped you think.

your casual walk allowed you to take in details that you couldn’t when you first arrived. the trees and greenery surrounding the palace were things you did not get at home, the forever winter killing off any color you longed to see. crops and livestock were held miles from the palace, outside of the reach of your vision and the invisible leash your father had kept you on, but here they thrived under the midday sun. you had a horse that you called your own, but you were only allowed to use him to travel to nearby towns on the outskirts of the palace property, right outside of the strong walls that surrounded it. none of the villagers there spoke to you past cold formalities, no matter how hard you tried, so eventually you gave up, settling for spending your time inside the castle.

here you found that you simply had to step outside of the palace walls to feel the soft grass beneath your feet, to smell the earth under your nose, to drink in the vibrant pinks and purples of the flowers in the gardens. there were so many trees, tall and strong with no walls blocking your vision of the soft foliage. you found a quiet bench under a tree, leaves and twigs decorating it’s surface from disuse, and you decided to call it your own despite having no ownership of any part of these grounds.

no ownership yet, if your father had anything to do about it.

you sat there for hours, drinking in the scenery as the sun made it’s path across the clear sky. you had expected boredom to creep around the edges of your mind, but it never came. the tranquility was so addictive that you found yourself back there, on that same bench, the next morning. and the next, your feet carrying you there before you were even fully awake.

“penny for your thoughts?” a deep voice disrupts your peace on that third day as a slender body sits on the bench next to you, just close enough that the warmth of his body touches your skin. you’re equal parts relieved and distressed when you see that it’s felix, and you smile at him in greeting, hoping that it didn’t come out as a grimace. this time when you meet his eyes, you make an effort to not look away.

“i do not get to see things such as this at home,” you wave your hand towards the garden, towards the birds chirping and the gentle sound of a stream bubbling. “it is beautiful. serene, you know?”

you don’t know how to act around him, and you certainly didn’t expect him to approach you. your words came out awkward, sounding unpracticed and superficial, and you try and hold back a flush from taking over your face. you hoped it wasn’t outstandingly clear how uncomfortable you were in his presence. do better than that, your father’s voice rings in your head.

“i agree,” he turns away from you, drinking in the picture-perfect view in front of you. “i am very lucky to call this place my home. what is yours like?”

“gray,” you deadpan, and the responding laugh he grants you makes your heart skip. better.

“there must be something beautiful there, it cannot just be you, right?” he says, a playful smirk tugging his lips upwards.

“flattery will get you nowhere, my prince,” you shoot back, enjoying the moment of quick banter between the two of you before your words turned sober. “when my mother was alive, she would paint the hallways and the walls of our chambers with beautiful flowers and vines and clouds. the flowers were my favorite part, she painted them in such beautiful shades of purples and yellows. most of them have been painted over, but the ones in my chambers remain. those are my favorite part of the castle, the most beautiful things i have ever seen.”

“i would love to see it one day,” he says, adamant and genuine as he takes your hand in his to squeeze it once before letting it go.

“maybe you could visit?” you look up at him through your lashes, a fake gesture to toy with him that left you feeling staticky and wrong. it was a complete lie - you would never subject this beautiful boy to the somberness of your home, lest it dull his brightness. even though he might not have a home soon, you push away the thought.

“only if it means i can see more of you, and not having you hide away,” he says, pointedly, though his face shows no malice.

“it is overwhelming, for me,” you explain, embarrassed at having been caught. “to be surrounded by strangers.”

“yes,” his eyes are far away for a moment, his head deep in thought. “i understand.”

───•───•───✧𓆩⟡𓆪✧───•───•───

the next morning you had only just left your chambers, planning for another day exploring the greenery around the palace, when you spot felix leaning against the wall opposite of the door. he approaches you with a warm smile and takes your hand, his skin soft under your fingertips. how long had he been waiting there for you?

“my lady,” he bows his head, bringing the back of your hand to his lips to press a kiss there, as he had done when you first arrived. “would you care for a walk around the palace? it would be my honor to be your escort for the day.”

“if you ask so nicely,” you smile back, humor seeping into your voice naturally. “how can i refuse?”

“excellent,” his smile widens and he holds an arm out for you to take. “i’ll take you to meet my friends! that way, you will have friends here, too, instead of strangers.”

his friends, you thought, would be nobles and lords and other members of high class that you would have to make fake pleasantries with. while his gesture was sweet, you had no interest making relations with the elite members of this court, the ones whose lives you were planning on upending. the last thing you expected was for him to take you straight to the kitchens, down winding hallways and corridors, marked by the ever increasing aroma of delicious baked goods and mouthwatering herbs.

“minho!” felix exclaims, bouncing on his heels excitedly, catching the attention of a man who was frowning deeply at a pot bubbling over a fire. “this is y/n, i am taking her around the castle today. y/n, this is minho, the king of our kitchens, and a dear friend of mine.”

the way he introduced you, so casually, was perplexing; no one had ever spoken your name without princess or lady preceding it. even more so was his casual use of king when talking about someone of lower class, a term that should be solely reserved for his father.

“hello, my lady,” minho looks up, his lips turning up into a graceful smile, slightly crooked teeth peeking through his lips. his hair curls around his ears a bit, dainty jewelry adorning his lobes, and his features look almost sculpted in perfection. he’s absolutely beautiful.

“is everyone in your kingdom this pretty?” you blurt out, forgetting yourself, and minho barks into laughter. felix’s hand moves to lay on your arm, right at the crook of your elbow, and if it wasn’t for the amused smile on his face you may have thought you upset him.

“you are one to talk, my lady,” minho says, delight on his face that quickly morphs into exasperation as the pot he was monitoring earlier begins to bubble over.

“careful, min,” felix drawls out, his fingers curling further into your arm. almost possessively. interesting. “she is our guest, not someone for you to flirt with.”

“alright, your royal highness,” minho says distractedly, stirring vigorously. “now stop distracting me, unless you want raw meat and vegetables for dinner tonight.”

felix grins in response, shooting a wave at the cook before leading you to a door in the back of the kitchens. it follows outside to a set of fields you hadn’t laid eyes on before, a cobblestone path winding through it like a river.

“so, do you think i am pretty too?” he teases as he leads you down the path, towards a set of men - knights - sparring in the midday sun. “or is that reserved for minho?”

“well-” you laugh, startled at his boldness. “i will not lie, you certainly are beautiful. but do not let it get to your head.”

“well as you said, flattery gets you nowhere, my lady,” he laughs too, and the two of you break all composure as you lean into each other. it’s almost too easy to be casual with him, too natural to break the carefully taught formalities that were drilled into you. you thought it might be a challenge, or awkward at the minimum, to get close to the prince, but you’re finding it to be quite an enjoyable experience thus far.

as you approach the knights, sweaty and panting from the exertion of their practice, you point out two men stand out from the rest, wearing armor with the royal colors showing proudly rather than the simple silver of the other knights. they held themselves with grace, power exuding off of them almost effortlessly, and they spark your interest.

“changbin and jisung,” felix points them out. “chris’ most trusted knights, and our friends. i pray for you if you ever get into a poker match with those two, they’ll cheat you out of every coin in your purse, the rascals.”

his voice is fond as his words are teasing, a juxtaposition that fascinates you. you don’t think you can recall a time where someone has used an insult as a term of endearment as he had just done. you lock this away in the back of your mind to ponder on later as you take in the two knights in front of you. the shorter one is clearly fond of exercise, if the muscles that even his heavy armor can’t hide is any clue. his hair is as dark as a raven’s feathers, curling from sweat, and his face is kind. the one next to him is slimmer, but no less strong. his face is round, cheeks swelling from the gummy smile he’s wearing, and his eyes are so pretty.

“felix!” the more muscular one, changbin as felix had pointed out, beams at the man beside you. “care to join? your moves must be getting rusty with all the sitting around you royals do.”

felix sends a glare to changbin, no heat behind the gesture, and him and jisung laugh in response.

“i have company, you scoundrels,” felix complains, almost in a whine. “could you not just boast about my prowess on the battlefield? you had to make me look bad?”

“please, lix,” jisung teases before turning his attention to you. “he may not be the most powerful warrior, but he is quick. the most agile swordwork i have seen, probably. it is like he is dancing with his opponent.”

felix flushes, shy under the compliments of his knights, his friends.

“hyunjin and seungmin must be around here somewhere,” felix muses as he walks you down the corridor lined with knights, back inside and down a hallway you haven’t seen before. “this is where mine and chris’ chambers are. hyunjin is chris’s personal secretary, and seungmin is mine. though, i would consider him more of a menace than anything else.”

his voice is lined with fondness again, like the way he spoke about minho and changbin and jisung. it’s the same manner as how he talks about his father and his brother, his family. it was like they were all his kin, regardless of blood.

“you are on a first name basis with the staff here?” you ask after a lull of silence, curiosity winning over your hesitance. your own handmaidens did not address you by name, the women who were your closest companions since you were young girls. you had never even thought to grant them the privilege of doing so.

“we treat everyone with the same respect, regardless of status or bloodline,” he says, words sounding a little colder than usual.

“do not misunderstand,” you quickly correct, not wanting to offend him. because you want him to trust you, your mind supplies. not because you want him to like you. “i think it admirable. it is…different, to how things are in my kingdom. i am simply not used to it. i would prefer it this way, if i had the choice.”

it wasn’t a complete lie; you were searching for words that would win him your favor, but it surprised you how naturally they came to you.

“do you not?” he furrows his brow, looking at you in confusion. whatever iciness he had before had melted into befuddlement, like he genuinely didn’t understand. “have a choice, i mean.”

you don’t know how to tell him you don’t have many choices at all.

the silence takes over the both of you again, less comfortable than before, but he remains quiet as if he can sense the thoughts whirling inside of your head. it’s only when you reach the limits of the palace property that you’re thrown out of your mind, glancing at him with unspoken question.

“i thought we could take a stroll through the lower towns to end our day,” he explains, no signs of lingering animosity from your previous conversation. “it is my favorite place to go to get away from the palace once in a while.”

the lower towns, like most things in this kingdom, were not what you had expected. there were children playing in the streets, laughing and screaming while their parents watched on in exasperation. markets lined the cobblestones you walked on, selling vibrant fabrics and jewelry, freshly baked goods and crisp produce, and a variety of trinkets that overwhelmed you in the best way, patrons were striking bargains for products on every corner, trading goods for coin, a smile on each face you encountered.

it was a good distinction from the towns you were used to, where knights patrolled to ensure nothing was amiss. people there lived in fear, not in joy. everywhere you turned, people smiled at the prince beside you, and he would wave back or offer a small nod, ever polite. the few times you had managed to sneak into the lower towns to buy paints and canvas or trinkets as gifts for your handmaidens, you had gone in a thick cloak that covered your face lest you be recognized. here, walking around in your day dress, you felt almost naked.

a child runs up to felix and wraps his small arms around his legs, bouncing excitedly on his heels.

“prince lixie!” he squeals, and felix leans down to ruffle his hair, a large smile on his face. it might be the cutest thing you’ve ever seen. “is that a princess?”

it takes you a moment to realize that the child is asking about you. you don’t interact with children much, your father would never allow them to touch you like the boy is with felix.

“yes, she is,” felix whispers, like he’s sharing a secret. “a very beautiful princess. why don’t you say hello?”

“hello,” the boy turns shy, peeking his head out from behind felix’ leg. the child, you found, could be forgiven for his lack of decorum when addressing you. he had a lot to learn at his young age. “i am joshua.”

“hi, little one,” you say, a little awkward as felix’ eyes are trained on you. “i am y/n.”

you were at loss for words, but the few words you managed to give had the boy practically beaming at you in response. you watch as felix tells him to return to his friends, because you and him were on official palace business, and the boy nods sagely before scampering off.

“sorry about him,” he says once lucas is out of sight. “i have been visiting him in the village since he was very little. i have taken a liking to him, naughty as he is. he is the son of one of the merchants here, and he lost his mother years ago. i see myself in him.”

“he is precious,” you take his arm again as he continues down the path. “i always wanted to visit the children in the orphanages at home, but i-” you cut yourself off, a habit you’ve taken to since arriving here. i need to learn to think before speaking. “i have not gotten the chance.”

“the children here are lovely,” he says. “i like learning from them. they keep me humble, remind me that not everyone is born with such privilege.”

he says it so simply, as if it’s his right to question such things; a man born into royalty surely has no business spending time with lower-class children, learning from them. it is one thing to offer them a coin, something that the kingdom could clearly spare. but what could they possibly teach him that his well-respected tutors could not?

you didn’t bring it up, afraid that he would react the same way he had earlier, when you questioned his informality with his staff. afraid that maybe, he would react in anger, though you couldn’t quite imagine the perfect lines of his face twisted into anything but peace.

before the two of you leave, he stops at one of the many stands selling an array of sparking jewelry and scarves, and he asks you if you would like anything. you want to say yes, the handmade twists of metal and dyed fabrics captivating you, but you shyly shake your head.

you almost miss his forlorn expression when you refuse, turning away from the stand. it’s better this way, to not receive gifts from him. there will be nothing in your possession to remember him by, then.

───•───•───✧𓆩⟡𓆪✧───•───•───

as felix drops you off at your door in the evening, the day comes crashing down on you - he’s so kind. everyone here is, from the royal family to the staff and the people living in the villages outside the gates. throughout the entire day you spent with felix, you did not once think about why you were here, simply enjoying his company and learning about him, not the secrets you were tasked with uncovering.

it’s given you a lot to think about.

as he leaves, he runs a gentle hand down your arm from your shoulder to your wrist, squeezing gently before walking away. even his strides are made in lovely, even steps that makes him look other-worldly.

you lean against the doorframe, taking a deep breath to try and settle yourself, and it’s then that a flash of movement out of the corner of your eye captures your attention.

a servant is standing just down the hallway opposite from the one felix disappeared into, the same servant who had walked you to your chambers the very first day. the first person here who had smiled at you for no reason other than to be kind.

“hello,” you call out softly, beckoning him closer to you; you don’t know who looks more nervous out of the two of you as he approaches you with uncertain steps. “what is your name?”

“jeongin, my lady,” he almost whispers, hesitant, wide eyes trained on you.

“nice to meet you, jeongin,” your lips tug upwards. he’s adorable.

“we have met before,” he blurts out, smacking his hands over his mouth. “i am sorry, i spoke out of turn. i just meant…”

he trails off, looking down shyly.

“meant what, jeongin?” you ask, sure to keep your voice light and free of demand despite the curiosity starting to burn in you. what did he mean, you’ve met before? surely, he means within the palace earlier that week, right?

“i used to live in your kingdom,” he admits, his fingers playing with them hem of his tunic. “when i was younger. my mother was a servant in your castle.”

“really?” you gasp, understanding and puzzlement taking over simultaneously.

“yes, but i left when i was still young,” he explains. “i remember you, though. you were always kind. i admired you for that.”

“thank you, jeongin,” you manage to force out, knowing that you did not deserve his kind words, even as informal as they were given. he was wrong; you were just as wicked as the rest of the nobles in your court. perhaps you were simply better at hiding it.

───•───•───✧𓆩⟡𓆪✧───•───•───

your father pulls you into an empty corridor near your chambers the next day, his strength harsh enough to make you stumble over your feet.

“what have you learned,” he speaks in hushed tones, scared of being overheard. it’s more of a demand than a question, as if he simply expected you to have what he needs after such little time.

“i spent the entire day with him yesterday,” you start, choosing your words carefully, lest he discover that you’re actually enjoying yourself here. “he took me around the castle, and i have an idea of the layout, in the case that we need to make a hasty exit.”

“anything else?” he pushes, leaning further into your space.

“they are…unusually fond of their staff here,” you divulge, more reluctant to give up this information. “they might be of use.”

“good girl,” his smirk is like frost, and he reaches out to cup your cheek. a gesture that, to others, may have seemed paternal, protective. though his touch sends an unpleasant shiver up your spine, his words satisfy some sick satisfaction within you - the need for his approval was met.

“your mother would be proud.”

as he walks away, it makes you queasy how those words make you straighten up, proud. pleased. living in the echo of your mother’s footsteps for so long made you doubtful that you would ever be able to fill them, but maybe this was a start.

───•───•───✧𓆩⟡𓆪✧───•───•───

you see felix later, walking to the banquet hall with another boy dressed in simple clothes. they pause by the entrance, deep in conversation, and you duck behind a pillar, out of their sight. you’re just close enough to hear snippets of their conversation, when their voices raise from their hushed whispers. they must not want to be overheard, you realize, straining your ears harder. this was your chance to gather some kind useful information for your father.

you close your eyes and listen, picking up puzzle pieces of she’s sick and time off and you’ve almost completed the puzzle when it hits you - though any conversation they might have had was not meant for you to hear, this one in particular felt like a breach of privacy. not of felix’ but of the boy standing before him.

his secretary, seungmin, that he had spoken about the previous day. the boy who, as you had just learned, had a sick mother, and was requesting some time away to care for her. as you peek around the pillar, you see felix rest a hand on his shoulder, leaning close to the boy before pulling him in for a gentle hug.

he’s friends with his staff, and he touches them so casually? this didn’t fit. it fit nothing of the way you were brought up, formality and proprietary trained into you, and it fit nothing of the picture your father had painted of the royals that ruled over this kingdom. it seems that with every observation, instead of answers you were left with more and more questions.

“what are you doing?” a voice sounds from behind you, too close, and you nearly jump.

“what?” you breathe out, turning to see jeongin standing behind you, eyes wide.

“you were just standing there with your eyes closed,” he explains. “is everything okay?”

“my lady,” you correct, the words leaving your mouth as if it had a mind of its own. “is everything okay, my lady.”

“oh,” he says, twisting his bottom lip between his teeth. “apologies, my lady. there is no such need for formalities here, i had forgotten.”

“it is alright,” you assure, watching as he relaxes and lets out a breath.

“just, a word of advice?” he says, continuing before you could tell him that no, you didn’t want nor need his advice. “if you are going to be here for some time, you should try and adapt. not to overstep, my lady, you just might find yourself more comfortable if you relax a bit.”

he walks away with a smile, and you’re left alone to reflect on his words. he did overstep, but it does not mean he didn’t give you something useful. adapt, he had said, and perhaps he had a point. felix seemed to be more open with you when you were agreeable, when you didn’t question his strange impropriety.

maybe becoming one of them, even through a facade, was the key to unlocking whatever you needed to find.

he arrives at your door as the sun was setting, light knocks accompanied by a call of your name that you almost couldn’t hear. you call out softly for him to enter, a delighted smile taking over your face when you see what he has grasped in his hand, held out in offering.

a beautiful bouquet of flowers, wrapped in creamy tulle. the petals were a vibrant purple, highlighted by sharp yellows and soft whites towards their center. they were violas, your mother’s favorite flower.

you hadn’t seen one since she had passed. your father had forbade anyone from growing them on his lands.

“how did you know?” you gasp, smiling at him brightly as you take them from him. you move them closer to your face, and if you were alone you might bury your face into them, savoring their powdery sweet smell. “that these were my favorite flower?”

“you told me,” he says, ears turning pink under your attention. “that your mother painted your room in purple flowers. i just guessed, but from your reaction i hope i got it right?”

how had he remembered such a small detail that you had given him, when you knew little to nothing about him?

“oh, felix, they’re perfect. you remembered such a small thing?”

“there are a lot of things i wish to know about you,” he confesses.

“likewise,” you smile at him.

───•───•───✧𓆩⟡𓆪✧───•───•───

smoke, creeping through the gap between the floor and the wooden door, rising in curling pillars towards you. snaking around your neck, entering your throat and your nostrils, burning your lungs to ash. you scramble for the doorknob, but the moment your fingers hit it you’re snatching your hand back - it’s icy hot, unable to touch.

there is no escape.

the windows - covered by royal blue curtains, catch fire from below, and you throw them back. you need air, something to clear out your crumbling lungs, but when you look outside the city is on fire. red-hot flames lick up the side of the palace, trees turned barren and flowers burned to a crisp.

in the center you can see felix, flames surrounding him but not touching. he’s whispering something, and you cry out that you can’t hear him. speak louder, please, you beg. help me.

“this is your fault,” he speaks, his voice right in your ear, but when you turn towards it, it’s not felix next to you. it’s your father.

his hand slides around your waist, pulling you close to him, embracing you.

“good work,” he says, proud smile on his face as the both of you watch the city fall to the flames. “i knew you could do it.”

───•───•───✧𓆩⟡𓆪✧───•───•───

since the younger prince had taken you on a tour of the castle, you’ve seen him every day. sometimes he would greet you at breakfast, disappearing afterwards only for him to show up at your door later to ask you on a walk around the grounds. other times he would be waiting for you outside your chambers when you woke up with a basket of fresh pasties baked by minho for you to enjoy together, and he would watch in delight as you savored the flavors. on rarer days, you would only see him in passing while he was between duties, but he would stop to press a kiss to the back of your hand, every time.

you played along with him, accepting his flirting and responding in turn. it came instinctively, and you often forgot that you were meant to be luring him into a false companionship, not a real one. he was alluring, smart with a fragment of recklessness, soft with sharp edges, a perfect balance of everything.

as the days passed, he would get bolder. his touches lingered for longer, the searing heat of his hand pressing on your arm, your shoulder, on the small of your back. his kisses moved from your hands to your cheeks and your temples, to the crown of your head, and it left you aching for more. he didn’t hold back his compliments, reflecting not only on how beautiful he found you but also how thought you were clever, intelligent, good-natured. you never thought those things about yourself, but something in the way he said it made you think they were true.

in the times that you weren’t with felix, you spent time with jeongin. the boy was as sweet as he looked, the the more time you spent together, the more his shyness melted away to reveal sharp wit and an even sharper tongue. you found your own walls dropping around him too, his easy companionship making it difficult to remain closed off to him. he reminded you of the home of your childhood, the one that you missed fiercely, and you were grateful to have him by your side. he kept you humble, holding you accountable for the way you acted, even though a spark of fear remained within him any time he spoke his mind in that regard. you managed to hold back your annoyance at his remarks, and soon you found that it simply faded out of reach. you became fast friends, almost too quickly, evidenced by the way he would raise his eyebrows at you when he saw you with felix, like he could see right through you.

you were lucky that your attraction to the prince was all that he could see through. the weight of your impending betrayal was like a shackle on your ankle, following you wherever you went, impossible to truly forget about. while you had yet to learn anything about the royal family that could serve as a benefit to your father, you saw your relationship with felix as a betrayal in it’s own right. if you were better, you would leave him alone - you would leave this kingdom entirely, and refuse to play any part in their downfall. but you couldn’t physically stay away.

you couldn’t stop from filing away small bits of information that might serve to be useful, either. the prince’s brother’s favorite meal, in case the opportunity to poison him came along. his father’s daily schedule, told to you by felix freely when you had asked, your fingertip running down his arm from his shoulder to his wrist. the likely areas where secrets may have been hidden, restricted to you and glossed over by felix when he would walk with you around the castle. you hated it, categorizing this information into handy little parcels that you would deliver to your father.

a welcome distraction came in the form of the very thing you should be avoiding; on a few occasions, felix had christopher and his betrothed, roseanne, accompany the two of you on whatever excursion he had planned for that day.

a simple picnic in the garden, juicy fruits picked just that morning and fresh baked bread and crumbly cheeses to snack on while the four of you talked. conversation came easy with chris and roseanne, once you broke out of the too familiar anxiety that surrounded you when with new people. felix’s warmth from where he was settled next to you, allowing you to lean into him, helped more than you wanted to tell him. chris was so similar to his brother, sharing his kindness and his humor, though his jokes were cheesier than felix’ dry sarcasm. roseanne was lovely, someone who you could see as a close friend under different circumstances.

a on a visit to the lower towns, just as lively as it was the first time you went. it was then that you officially met hyunjin and seungmin, the prince’s assistants. the way they bickered with one another, and their royal counterparts, made you laugh so hard that your stomach ached with it. even they were striking, and it left you wondering whether one’s disposition on the inside reflected their beauty on the outside.

your friendly chatter continued into mealtimes, where the kings would join you, the very few times where you would get to see king stephen at all. he bantered with his children, asking them about their days and their plans for the next ones, acted like a father instead of a king with them. it sent a pang of longing through you - your father had been like that, before. you don’t think he remembered how to be a father, anymore.

as much as you loved the prince’s company, you hated the approving nods you would get from your father whenever he saw you and felix together. the acknowledgement that you craved for just weeks ago felt near futile now - he didn’t see that instead of making the prince fall for you, the opposite was taking place. he didn’t see the genuine connection between the two of you, the way you craved for him, the way nothing else seemed to matter when he was in front of you. he didn’t care about your heart, about how it would likely break beyond compare when he he was finished here. he didn’t care about you.

the you that was falling for felix. for his compassion, for his gentle nature, for his quick wit and effortless beauty. for the way he treated those around him, for the way he spoke to you like you were more than a pawn in a cruel game of chess. it made you sick to your stomach to think about what was to come, what you hopelessly wished you could avoid. you find yourself wishing, not for the first time, that you and your father were truly here seeking peace. that you could imagine a future here without guilt gnawing at your chest.

the closer you grow to felix, the stronger the gnawing feeling in your stomach becomes. but you can’t stay away from him, even if you tried; the sparking light in his eyes drew you in and you were helpless to his magnetic pull. the way he would beckon you over with his hand, palm facing upright as if waiting to join with your own, left you no choice but to go to him. you knew you were selfish, spending time with him out of your own desires while doing nothing to warn him of what was to come and making no actions to follow through with your father’s wishes. you knew your time here, living in peace, was running short, the last dribbles of sand slipping down an hourglass.

and yet, when he finally pulled you into an empty alcove and held you close so that he could press his lips gently to yours, you let him. you responded in kind, moving together with him like some kind of dance.

when he invited you into his chambers and into his bed, you didn’t say no. even then, when he gave you all of himself, you took it.

───•───•───✧𓆩⟡𓆪✧───•───•───

fire, this time contained in a ring of wooden slats, smoke curling up into the night sky. felix, by your side, you tucked into his side while the two of you claim it’s warmth for your own.

“why?” felix says, running a hand up and down your arm. you hum, snuggling further into him when a breeze makes it way to you through the trees surrounding you.

“why what?” you ask, voice syrupy sweet.

“why did you do it?” he turns towards you, the flames still visible in his eyes. he glances over your shoulder pointedly before turning back to the campfire, pulling you into him again. you look behind you, and a firestorm meets your vision. you can barely make out the outline of the beautiful palace through the inferno, but a figure stands out in the center of it. you move closer, the heat threatening to scorch your skin, to see your father strapped to stake. burning. dying.

you turn back towards felix, question dying on your lips when he’s not there. a sick feeling enters your stomach as your gaze returns to the fire, and where your father was is felix in his place.

you let out a horrid scream.

───•───•───✧𓆩⟡𓆪✧───•───•───

waking up to the sight of felix, blonde hair illuminated by the morning light like a halo around his head, was something you think you could never get used to. even if you were allowed this under better circumstances, if the two of you had fallen together after meeting at a ball or a diplomatic meeting, his beauty was something that you truly could not comprehend.

you have half a mind to scold both him and yourself for breaking proprietary, for falling into bed with one another out of wedlock, as parts of two separate kingdoms that have yet to establish ties. you don’t, though; you were as much at fault as he was, and you had enjoyed it too much to ruin it for either of you. you do not acknowledge the guilt that was creeping up inside of you from your dishonesty, or the remainder of fear that lingered from your dream. looking at felix while he slept seemed like a much better way to spend your time.

he is equal parts pretty and cute when he mumbles, smacking his lips together as his eyelids flutter, holding onto the last pieces of sleep he can. when his brown eyes peek through his eyelashes and land on you, you can see the smile in his gaze.

“morning,” his deep voice rumbles, and he pulls you close to him by the waist. you land almost on top of him, his movement making you lose your balance from where you were perched on your elbow watching him, and you both let out breathless laughter at your undignified flailing. you settle against him, his chest pillowing your head while you trace senseless patterns into whatever patches of skin you can find.

you can still feel the phantom touches that he had imprinted on you the night before, as he held you more gently than anyone ever had. you can feel the silky smooth strands of his hair under your fingers, the ghost of his breath panting against your neck. you can hear the sweet sounds you pulled out of him over and over.

“penny for your thoughts?” he asks, just as he did when he met you in the gardens the very first time.

“mm,” you sound, not wanting to break the peaceful silence the two of you were basking in. “just thinking about my mother.”

“oh,” his face drops in sadness. not in pity, but in compassion. in empathy, for of all people he would understand; he lost his mother, too. “can i ask how she passed?”

a refusal is at the tip of your tongue, as it is when anyone asks about your mother, but it fizzles out when you look at him. you found yourself wanting to talk about this with him.

“she was sick,” you start, early memories of your childhood filtering into your head. “since i can remember, she was sick. it took over her body slowly, it took years for her to succumb to being bedridden. she would paint for hours and hours, back then, until she collapsed. but then, it took over her mind too. that was the worst part, her forgetting who my father was, who i was, forgetting who she was. when she passed, it was almost a relief, i could not stand to see her in that state of pain anymore. i was twelve, when it happened.”

“i am sorry,” his voice is deep, thick with sadness. “that sounds like something a child should never have to go through.”

“what about…” you trail off, not wanting to make it sound like the two of you were trading secrets like giggling children.

“she was murdered by bandits, in the lower towns, just a few years ago,” he answered your unfinished question. “she went further than she was supposed to go from the castle grounds, and she always refused to bring knights with her. my father blames himself, and i blamed him for a long time too. but it was not his fault.”

“i am sorry, too,” you place your hand on his cheek, hoping the weight of your caress would surpass the lack of words you offered him.

“as strange as it is to say, i-” he cuts off for a second, letting out a strangled laugh that didn’t reach his eyes. “i am glad that you understand. it is hard telling these things to people that have not experienced that kind of pain.”

you don’t think it’s strange at all. it settles something within you, the part of you that had felt so alone for years. for all of his charms, it was this display of raw honesty that transformed what you had thought to be superficial attraction into something more, something deeper.

“i feel the same,” you close your eyes, trying to tamper the nausea that arose at those words. you’re going to take his father from him too, your back-stabbing mind informs you. and his brother, you don’t deserve his comfort.

───•───•───✧𓆩⟡𓆪✧───•───•───

your father calls for you that morning, sending a note to your chambers. you only see it when you finally get out of felix’ bed and make it to your own to freshen up, a smile present on your face that you can’t help.

every step you take towards your father’s chambers feels more and more like you’re signing your death wish, and the sound of his door opening several moments after you knock on it sounds like cannon-fire in your head.

“you asked for me?” you move closer to the desk where he had sat, and from your position you could see messy piles of paper with words that had been angrily scrawled on them.

“i have asked you for many things,” he starts, voice dripping with condescension. “but it is good to see that you can manage to follow simple orders.”

his passive aggression makes your blood boil; after weeks of being treated so kindly by your hosts, your patience was wearing thin in the face of your father.

“i am trying to earn their trust fully,” you try to reason. “it is taking longer than expected.”

“and sharing a bed with him is not enough? whoring yourself out to them has not given you the opportunity to find out what you need?” his words were almost enough to make your skin catch fire. how did he possibly know what you and felix had done? “complete what i have asked of you, now. the faster we finish this, the quicker we can leave this horrid place.”

leave this place, and go back to what? an empty castle where you are disrespected, forgotten, ignored? a place with no life, no joy, no laughter? you weren’t sure what you wanted anymore, but you were certain that going back was not a favorable outcome.

“i’m not a servant that you can bark orders to,” you bit out, regretting it almost instantly when he stood up so fast that his chair fell to the floor behind him.

“watch your mouth,” he growls, stalking towards you, and you take a few steps back from him. “it seems that the only thing you’ve learned from the insolent brats here is how to be weak. how to disrespect your king, the one who has clothed you and fed you since you were born.”

your king, he said. not your father.

he grabs you by the neck and pushes you back, back, back until you’re up against the door, his grip strong enough that you knew would leave behind a ring of bruises. you wish you could deem this unfamiliar, but the sensation of feeling pain caused by his hands was not uncommon.

“i am growing tired of your excuses. you think they care about you? they would kill you in an instant if they knew what you have been hiding.” he moves closer, until his face is inches from yours and you cannot look anywhere but at him. “if you know what is good for you, you will stop this insolence and do as i say.”

when he removes his grip from you, your knees give out, and you brace yourself against the doorframe to keep from falling. he returns to his desk, not sparing you a glance as you leave his chambers and close the door behind you.

you don’t notice the frightened frame that had been standing outside the door through the tears clouding your vision.

───•───•───✧𓆩⟡𓆪✧───•───•───

you’re sitting at the fireplace in your chambers when you hear your door open, jeongin slipping in and closing it quietly behind him. he settles himself next to you, taking in your haggard appearance.

“your father is not here to make peace, is he?” he asks, his voice quiet and free of judgment. like he was confirming what he was already known to be true, not making an accusation.

“no,” you answer simply, too exhausted to try and lie to him. your friend. maybe the first real one you’ve ever had.

“you are helping him.” he says, letting a crumb of distress loose into his voice.

“yes.”

“you have come here under the illest of intentions, gained our trust,” he starts, calm. quiet.

“i know,” you sigh.

“you are going to hurt a lot of people.“

“i know.”

“you are going to do it, even though you do not want to.”

“i know, jeongin!” you snap, feeling guilty when he jumps a little.

“it’s just,” he’s playing with his fingers, a tell of his nerves. “i remember what it was like, at home. before, and then after. when things changed, when people became meaner. more cold, and closed off. that is why we left, and came here. don not make us go through that again.”

“i am sorry,” you whisper, a heavy, uncomfortable feeling settling in your stomach at his words. all you can offer him is an empty apology, useless as it is.

“i had hoped that you would be different. that you would stay true to who you were, or who i thought you to be.” he’s looking into the fire, not blinking as if mesmerized. as if he’s trying to dissociate from this moment in a way you wish you could. “when i saw you here, you still had it. that light, from before.”

“i do not want to do it, innie,” you choke out, echoing his words while your eyes burned. “i do not know what to do. i never wanted this, i hate it.”

“i know,” he says. “i can see it. in everything you do, your hesitation, the way you hold yourself back. but you do not understand.”

“understand what?” you’re exhausted, you don’t have it in yourself to be frustrated at him.

“that you have a choice,” he says, as if it was a simple thing. “that you can choose to end this, choose to do what you know is right.”

“i am scared,” you wobble out.

“being scared is good,” he finally breaks away from the fire, but the light in his eyes burns just as bright when he looks at you. “it makes you genuine. that is what makes you different from him. but you do not have to let that stop you.”

“i do not know how,” you whisper, voice barely carrying over to him.

“figure it out,” he says, just as quiet. “or i will do something, that you will not like. i will not let you harm my friends, no matter who you are.”

he leaves you then, slipping out of the chambers as quietly as he had come in, leaving you to your thoughts and what felt like a never ending stream of silent tears flowing from your eyes.

the next morning, you hand jeongin a note to give to hyunjin for christopher.

───•───•───✧𓆩⟡𓆪✧───•───•───

the sun had been set for hours when you wrap a scarf around your neck to hind the greenish blue splotches forming around your neck and secure the buckles on your boots. you hadn’t seen felix all day, but you knew that if he asked you to spend the night with him that you wouldn’t be able to follow through with what you were about to to.

your cloak shrouds your face from anyone who might be awake as you quickly make your way through the gardens, to the bench that you often inhabited. christopher is already waiting there for you, a grim look on his face.

“why did you ask me here, my lady?” he asks, clearly confused.

“please, i need you to listen to me,” your voice is hushed, like you’re scared of anyone hearing despite the hour of day and the concealed location you had chosen.”i am going to tell you things that you will not like, but i need you to listen until the end.”

“are you alright?” he looks concerned at how desperate you sound, but you shake your head. now isn’t the time for him to worry about you.

you tell him everything. the things your father had said about his family, the plan he had concocted before even stepping foot in this kingdom, the way his demands have been increasing from your lack of progress. the way you had changed as a result of being around the people here, that you didn’t wish to play in your father’s game any longer. you watch as his face morphs from surprise to anger to betrayal and back again, a cycle of emotions that might be comical under any other circumstance.

there were many ways you could have done this; telling the king for one, but this would open the chance of him ending your life along with your father. trying again to reason with your him, making it clear that you weren’t going to comply with his demands, but you could never see him compromising his mission. there was one single thing that you had thought of that had a chance of succeeding, with your head still attached to your body.

you end your speech with a demand, simple as it is, and that’s when he shows disbelief.

“you want me to kill your father?” he asks, incredulous.

“i may have loved him once,” you admit, voice thick with emotion. “but not anymore. he is not my father anymore, he is a tyrant. there is not a single soul in the kingdoms that would benefit from him being alive.”

“how do i know i can trust you?” he raises a cool brow, indifference masking whatever he was truly feeling underneath. “what if this is part of your plot?”

“you do not have time to consider my legitimacy!” you cry out, desperate. “i have tried to delay him, to think of some way out of this. he is getting angrier by the day and i fear that he will do something without thinking, something bad, and soon.”

“why not just leave then?” he asks, as if giving you a test. for all it was worth, it was a test that you wanted to pass. “why go through all of this when you could just get out, save yourself?”

“that would not be fair to my people, to leave them with him,” your words come out more passionate than you expected them to. “they deserve better than that. and it would not be fair to you, either. you have shown me more compassion than anyone has since my mother was alive. i will not repay that kindness by leaving like a coward.”

“has he hurt you?” the question catches you off guard, as does the concern filtering through his gaze. you bite your tongue; you want to answer, tell him yes, but that tiny, frightened version of you inside stops the words from coming out. you want to pull down your scarf, show him visible proof of the way your father treats you, but your hands feel like lead. he takes your silence as a confirmation though, nodding and cursing under his breath.

“i will not kill him,” he says, and you open your mouth to beg, plead for him to listen, but he holds a hand out as he continues. “but i will keep my guard up. i will not take this lightly; my father’s life is in danger, and i will take every precaution while i gain information.”

you sigh through your nose, defeat making your body sag into the bench. this was your last chance; chris may as well have just sealed all of your fates.

“please understand,” he says, weary. “i cannot go to my father with accusations when i have no proof. i believe you, i just need evidence before i can act.”

“please, just,” you say as you stand, not wanting to ask him for another impossible task he might refuse. “do not tell felix? i cannot have him getting caught up in this. i do not want him hurt.”

“you care about him.” he states, as if he is already sure of your answer.

“more than i thought possible,” you answer, and it is the truth.

“i cannot promise you that i will keep him in the dark. he is my brother,” he frowns. “we do not keep secrets from one another.”

“please,” it’s all you can say before you walk away, pulling your hood back over your face. you can only hope that he will listen to your plea. if not for your sake, but for felix’.

───•───•───✧𓆩⟡𓆪✧───•───•───

you should go to your own chambers, should stay away from felix until things were figured out, done and over. but your feet take you to his door instead of your own, and you’re inside his chambers before you can second-guess your stupid decision. you can tell he’s awake by his breathing, irregular and short, and it both pains and excites you that you are allowed to know things about him in that capacity.

“hi,” you keep your voice low, almost a purr as you climb into the bed and throw an arm around his curled up form. his nose scrunches and he wriggles a little bit, almost dislodging you, but you keep your grip strong. you don’t know when you will get this again.

“you smell like outside,” he complains, his body going lax. “where were you? i missed you.”

“just checking on some things,” you mumble into his skin, your lips finding home on the back of his neck. “i am all yours now.”

“do you not have people to check on things for you?” he asks, opening his eyes finally and turning his head towards you. you’re glad for the lack of light that keeps him from really seeing you. seeing the stress pinching your brows together, and the guilty frown that you can’t get rid of. “i have told you, my staff are there at your disposal. for whatever you need.”

“why trust others to do things i can do myself?” you quip back, the guilt of not telling him eating at you. you bury your face into his neck, hiding yourself, and the hand he tangles into your hair soothes you a bit. you feel tears welling up against your will and you let a shaky breath out into his honeyed skin.

“are you alright?” he tries to move your head up to look at you, but you refuse, shaking your head.

“i just really care about you, you know that right?” you admit, the last words you spoke to chris echoing in your head. “i didn’t expect to ever care about someone this much.”

“i care about you too,” confusion laces his words, and he runs a hand up and down your back. “are you sure you are alright?”

“i will be.”

so will he. you would make sure of it, somehow.

───•───•───✧𓆩⟡𓆪✧───•──��•───

felix is out of bed by the time you awaken the next morning, but it isn’t something unusual to wake up to cold sheets next to you. he is a prince, after all, and he can’t spend all hours of his day with you. if anything it’s better that he’s gone today; it will help you keep the distance that you failed to keep the night before.

you’re slow as you dress, the decision you made before you succumbed to sleep weighing heavily on your shoulders; you were going to speak to your father, for a final time. you were not going to give him a choice, you were going to rob him of the basic right that you he so often deprived you of. you were going to make him listen to you, for once.

but when you enter his chambers, he is absent from them. you try and dampen the dread creeping up your throat; surely, he wouldn’t act now? only a couple of days after you last spoke?

you approach his desk, looking for any sort of clue that might lead to his whereabouts, but what you find is worse than you’d imagined. pages upon pages of plans, detailed imagery of how he wanted to kill the king and his sons, how he wanted to enslave the people here, how he would take the resources here and let the land rot and decay, all scribbled down in near nonsensical sentences.

stupid man, leaving these out for anyone to see. you swipe them off the table, folding them neatly and tucking them into the bodice of your dress where no one would find them, just as your father enters the chambers. your hand flies to your chest, covering up what you had just done, but your father must think it an act of surprise from his lack of acknowledgement.

“what are you doing here?” he asks, eyes narrowed on you. you hold your head up even when you want to cower before him.

“the crowned prince knows of your betrayal,” you inform, watching as his eyes filled with anger. no fear, as you had expected.

“how,” he growls, making quick steps towards you and taking both of your arms in a harsh grip. his rings dig into your flesh,

“i told him,” you say, surprised when the words come out clean and leveled and your head stays up high. “i will not help you any longer. the king will know soon, and you will be thrown in prison.”

it was an empty threat; you knew the king was still unaware of what was going on.

“you would trade me for these people you barely know? the same people who killed your moth- your grandfather?” and it clicks into place. he made a mistake, he misspoke, and it showed the last of his cards that he had kept so carefully hidden from you. it’s clear now: he’s gone mad, searching for some kind of revenge, even if it is on the wrong people. he’s locked himself into some grief-fueled conspiracy, and you realize now that he’s truly lost to you. that he had been lost, for years now.

“you are not fit to rule over anything,” you snarl. “you are not fit to be a father, you are not fit to do anything more than sit here and place blame on everyone but yourself!”

he doesn’t react for several moments, searching your face for something, before letting out a bark of laughter, eyes wild.

“you ungrateful, insolent, stupid girl,” he shakes you with every word, and your teeth rattle. “you think you can threaten me?”

he raises a hand and the back of it strikes you across the cheek, metal catching on the delicate bone there. you fall to the ground, the force of it knocking you off balance, and when you raise a shaking hand to your burning skin it comes back flecked with blood.

“get out of my sight,” he spits at you, stepping around your form as if you were a mere pest before him. “this changes nothing. your threats mean nothing, but heed mine. if you ever step foot in front of me again, i will have you hanged. from now on, you are not my daughter. you are nothing.”

───•───•───✧𓆩⟡𓆪✧───•───•───

the walk to your chambers feels longer than usual despite your hurried steps, and you can’t shake the feeling that something unfortunate was going to happen, soon. what did your father mean when he said that your warning changed nothing? did he not believe you?

you don’t dwell on his clear descent to madness for long; you curse yourself for not seeing the blatant signs of it earlier, his obsession and his misplaced fury, but you know that there are more pressing issues that need your attention.

perhaps a further look at his aimless scribbling would give you some answers. either way, it was the proof you needed, the evidence chris claimed was necessary to have before approaching king stephen with your claims. you knew needed to act, and soon.

when you find felix already in your chambers, his presence is enough to qualm the hurricane raging under your skin. it comes back full force, though, when you look at him and he’s angry.

“when were you going to tell me,” he starts, voice ice cold like you’ve never heard it before. it terrified you. “that you were planning to kill my family?”

“what?” you gasp out, every nerve in your body freezing to stone. any urgency you were feeling regarding your father is wiped out, replaced with cold trepidation. chris told him.

“you came here to kill my father, to kill my brother and his love and to, to use me,” he grits out, voice trembling, and you can’t stand it.

“no, i-” you choke out, the words escaping you. you wanted to tell him everything, wanted to show him what you had found and bring the evidence to his father together, but you can’t get it out. “maybe at first, but no, not anymore-”

“not anymore?” he cries out, incredulous. “how can i trust anything you say to me? you’ve been lying to me since you got here, lying about everything, lying about caring for me-”

“no, felix, i love you,” the confession rips out of you and the timing couldn’t be worse. you wanted to tell him after, when things were not in the uncertain state they were in now. you wanted to give him the confession he deserved, something worthy of the man that he was. he shakes his head at your words, crystal tears forming in his eyes.

“you do not get to say that to me,” he bites out. “i do not even know who you are, you have been lying to me from the beginning, playing with me, you do not get to say that.”

“i did not want to,” you almost wail, the feeling in your knees giving out as you fall to his feet. the emotions that you haven’t been letting yourself feel were pouring out of you. “i did not want to, but he would have killed me, or married me off to some brute to get rid of me and i had no idea what to do.”

you want to shout, look at what he did to me, look at the evidence of what he would do to me, but you can’t.

“stop. stop talking.” he drags you to your feet by the arm, grip harsh like he would rather do anything than be touching you right now. “get out of my chambers. i want you and your father out of my home, and if you do not leave i swear to the gods i will tell my father to have you hanged.”

you stumble towards his door, turning back to throw one last pleading glance at him, and you regret it as his next words cut you right to the core.

“they warned me about you, did you know that?” he’s no longer speaking out anger, but rather cold indifference. it’s worse, somehow. you wanted to ask who they were, but in the moment it truly didn’t matter. “they told me about your family, how vile you all are. how you would poison us from the inside. but when i laid eyes on you, i did not believe them. i know now, that i should have.”

your body remains frozen long after he leaves, and you don’t realize that your body has moved to your bed until jeongin peeks his head into the door.

“innie,” you choke out from where you’re laying over the covers. he rushes to your side, and his face falls when he sees the tears leaking from your eyes.

“what happened?” he pushes your hair out of your face with the tips of his fingers, so gentle that you can’t help but let out a sob.

“felix,” you stutter out. “he hates me- he wants me gone. and i don’t blame him, i hate me, but innie, it hurts.”

you let jeongin pull you into his arms, tears leaking into his shirt, and even then your traitorous heart wishes it was felix holding you like this. the last thing you remember before sleep clouds your mind is jeongin whispering i’m sorry into your hair.

───•───•───✧𓆩⟡𓆪✧───•───•───

fire, but this time it surrounds you. not burning, but encasing you in warmth, covering your body completely. it spreads, catching onto the surfaces around you.

it’s threatening to combust, taking you with it. you didn’t know what do to. flee? protect, your mind demands. so you run, past door after door, passing by people who beckon you inside. you can’t, you need to leave.

chris, asking you to come inside. minho, calling you in for a meal, fresh and fragrant. jeongin, asking you to join him, telling you he’s worried about you.

felix, standing still as stone on his balcony. your father behind him, eyes dark as they narrow in on the prince. no.

you rush to them, gliding past felix, your flame sliding off his skin like water. you push your father away, your momentum carrying the both of you forward as the flames catch on his frame.

falling, falling, falling, off the balcony towards an endless pit of darkness. you look up and felix is watching, beautiful face twisted in anguish as he watches the two of you plummet.

───•───•───✧𓆩⟡𓆪✧───•───•───

you didn’t leave. despite felix’ warnings, you didn’t make any moves to flee the castle. you needed to see this through, needed to ensure that the people here were safe; the only way you would leave this palace is in the absence of your father’s company. if you were going to die, you would rather it be by stephen’s hands than by his.

you almost don’t leave your chambers, terror paralyzing you as you sit on your bed, waiting nervously for something to happen. whether it be news from christopher about his efforts or a group of knights ready to take you to the dungeons, your body itched for some action. you don’t leave for breakfast, and you don’t let jeongin in when he quietly brings you a meal and leaves it at your door. you pick at it, watching the morning sun rise into the sky and wishing you had a jug of wine to drown yourself in.

by midday, you had made up your mind; you were going to enter the king’s chambers, deliver him the information you had, and sneak away from the palace at night. where you would go, you did not know, but you knew that you were not welcome in either court anymore. you had ostracized yourself from your home and from the group of people here that you hoped to one day call your family.

you had no one. and it was your own doing.

you push away the thought as you hurry through the familiar halls, stopping at one of the only doors you had yet to enter. the king wasn’t in his chambers, you discovered, when you spent several minutes knocking on the door to no avail. the council chambers were empty as well, and you felt your heart speed up as you raced through the halls, avoiding any person you saw. your boots clicked on the stone as you hastily entered and exited chambers and hallways, searching desperately for the king, hoping he was here somewhere.

you find them in the banquet hall, a smile on stephen’s face as he signs a long document with a feathered quill. you’re not close enough to see what it is from you’re standing behind a column at the entrance to the hall, hiding your presence from them. your father moves to stand next to the king when he finishes, leaning in close as he takes the quill from him, and he raises his hand behind the king’s back. in his hand, sunlight glints off of a piece of metal in his hand - a knife,

you look around desperately for a knight to alert, but you find none. why are there no knights here? your stomach lodges itself into your throat as you stare at the two kings, frozen as your father readies the knife, poised to strike stephen right in the center of his back -

“no!” you cry, breaking away from the spot you were glued to as you run faster than thought was possible have towards them. your father turns towards your voice in shock, the knife slicing through the king’s side in a clean movement, and the king falls.

“what are you doing?” your father snarls, the man by his feet forgotten as his attention turns to you. you spare stephen a glance, meeting his wide eyes, and you hope he can see the apology in yours. your father’s forward movement moves your attention to him, and you see him stalking towards you with his knife poised. “i am growing tired of your foolishness, you wretched girl.”

“if you want to kill someone, kill me. not him,” you plead, backing away from him. “he did not kill her, you know that. this, this delusion you are living under, it needs to stop!”

“do not speak of her to me,” you can see his anger rising, redness traveling up his neck. “you are a poor excuse of a woman compared to her. you know nothing. everything i have done, i have done for her, and i will kill you and the rest of them if i need to.”

you’ve heard your father recount his killing of countless adversaries, spoken in cold tones with no regret, but to see him with his weapon raised at you is something you had never imagined in all of your days. it was a truly terrifying sight.

he backs you into the same column you had been hiding behind earlier, a mirror image of the way he had cornered you in his bedchambers days ago. his free hand circles your neck, covering the bruises that he had left behind then, and your hands fly to his wrist.

“this will never free you,” you choke out, tears brimming in your eyes that make your vision blurry. this way, when you look at him, his features are so unfocused that he almost looks like he used to, when he was sane. kind. “do you not understand? this will not bring her back. you will be truly alone.”

“better to be alone than living with you as a reminder of what i have lost,” he says softly, the sharp blade of the knife pressed to your side, stinging as it nicks your skin.

you close your eyes, resigned to your fate. this was how it was going to end, no matter what. you, suffering from the result of his hands, his jolted mind. you, a mere ghost of your mother, biding your time in this world until he decided that you had none left. living a life that would never truly be your own.

no.

your eyes fly open and meet his and he hesitates, the knife pulling back the smallest bit. you take the chance, your hand moves from one of his wrists to the other and you twist, taking in a sharp breath when he gasps and lets the knife clatter to the floor. he lets go of your neck and you drop, grabbing the handle of the knife with a shaky hand and slashing upwards, hoping that it would land somewhere.

he drops to the floor with a howl of pain, clutching at his thigh, and in the next moment you’re on top of him, pinning him to the floor with a knee to his stomach. the knife is still in your hand, unmoving from how strongly your fingers were grasped around the handle. it would be so easy to plunge it into his chest, so simple. you would finally be free.

you barely register when several knights finally barge into the hall, swords pointed at the two of you. your focus was purely on the man under you, at the madness swimming in his eyes and the ugly curl of his mouth shaped in scowl.

“you will not do it. you are weak,” he wheezes out, confident even as he struggles to speak from your weight on him.

you raise the knife.

a moment of tense silence.

and felix calls out your name. the only voice that could break you away from the trance you were in. his lovely voice, shaped in your name.

when you meet his eyes you drop the knife, and you’re pushed away from your father when by knights who move to secure him in shackles. you stand on wobbly feet, taking in the hall - felix, hovering by your side, hands raised as if he wanted to touch you but couldn’t. chris, standing by his father’s side, supporting him as he rises from the floor. blood drips down his side, but not an alarming amount. he would be fine. your own father, cursing angrily at the guards who were keeping him restrained, his words passing through you with no recognition.

you’re sure you looked horrible, in this moment. hair a mess, chest still heaving, clothes torn. you didn’t belong here. you drop your father’s papers that you kept hidden in your clothing to the ground, watching them flutter before settling, face up for all to see.

“i will leave at first light,” is the last thing you say before leaving the king, the princes, and your father behind you.

───•───•───✧𓆩⟡𓆪✧───•───•───

you didn’t look at your own reflection until the next morning. your face was a horrible painting of blues and blacks, and the bruises on your neck are fading into green, though you’re sure more were forming underneath them.

you look horrible.

you didn’t come with many things, and most of them were unnecessary for where you were about to go; traveling into the woods didn’t require fancy dresses and jewelry, so as you packed your bag you left them behind.

the last thing you expected was for felix to push the door to your chambers open, a noisier affair than you were used to from the way the door banged against the wall.

“you are still here,” he breathes out, panting a bit like he ran here. he eyes the bag you were holding warily.

“i am,” you answer, fear seeping into your veins as he moves closer to you. not of him, never of him, but of the power he held over you. of the way his words could break your heart into more fractures than it already was in.

“your father is in line for execution, at midday,” he informs, placing a hand on top of yours when he reaches you, his warm skin stinging the ice-cold skin of your own.

“good,” it’s the only thing you can think to say. the only reaction you can muster from learning that your father was about to die, like you had wished him to.

“chris told me what you asked him to do,” he says, voice low. “i did not stay long enough to hear the whole story, when he told me the other day. i came to you in anger, and i did not listen to you either. i am sorry.”

his voice wobbles in sorrow, and it breaks your heart.

“no, do not be,” you whisper, flipping your hand around so you could tangle your fingers with his. you wanted to feel him like this, at least one more time. “i should have been honest with you. when i chose to go against him, when i chose you, i should have told you.”

“you were scared,” he strokes the back of your hand with his thumb. “of him. and of us, i presume. i cannot fault you for that.”

“i was scared, but-” you cut yourself off, trying to find the right words. he waits for you patiently, eyes trained on your features. “since my mother died, my life has not been my own. i have not been allowed to make my own decisions, i don’t know how to…do this. that is no one’s fault but my own.”

“this?” he asks, velvet soft as he seeks for clarification.

“to be honest about things. to trust people with what’s going on. to…not be scared of people’s reactions,” even this show of candor was sending your heart into a frenzied pace. “i do not know how.”

“then let me teach you,” you can hear the tears in his voice but you don’t look up to meet them. you didn’t think you could handle it. selfish. “please. i do not know what you are planning to do - after, but please do not leave.”

“felix, i have never felt more free than i have here, in this kingdom, with your people. with your family,” you squeeze your fingers around his hand, the only thing you could bring yourself to do. “with you. you have already taught me so much. how do i continue to take and take from you like this?”

“you do not owe me anything,” he vows, bowing his head a bit. “anything i give to you, i give gladly. i act without thinking and i make rash decisions, too. do not think that i am not learning from you in turn. if it were not for jeongin finding me and explaining things to me yesterday, i would have done something horrid. i could have lost you, do you understand? you and i, we are not so different.”

jeongin. once this was all over, you were going to award that boy a house. or a village. whatever he wanted.

“did he do this to you?” he says when you don’t answer, raising one hand to the bruising around your neck and another to your cheek, feather-light fingertips tracing along the lines. “did he hurt you?”

“yes,” you breathe out, admitting for the first time to someone other than yourself what kind of man your father truly is. letting yourself accept that maybe, it was not your fault. that maybe, you deserved something better.

you stayed.

───•───•───✧𓆩⟡𓆪✧───•───•───

chris meets the two of you outside your chambers hours later, looking more exhausted than you’ve seen him before. he takes in your linked hands with a smile.

“felix told you?” he asks, gentle. you nod, leaning into felix. “i am sorry, that i did not do more. that it came to that.”

“do not apologize,” you say, resolute. “if anyone should be sorry, it is me. for putting you all through this.”

“if anyone needs to apologize, it is your father,” felix swears, his grip on your hand tightening. “if he was not already on his way, i would kill him myself for hurting you.”

you squeeze his hand back, hoping the gesture would bring him some comfort. violence was not a color that you think shaded felix often, but you couldn’t deny that his protectiveness was attractive.

it is chris’ duty to oversee the affair, but you cannot bring yourself to accompany him. the thought of seeing your father again, restrained and awaiting death, was not something that you wished to experience.

felix stays with you, guiding you through the halls and into his bed, holding you tight the entire time. his presence by your side is overrides the myriad of negative emotions inside of you and for once, your mind is quiet, failing to remind you that you needing felix in this moment was self-serving. it’s as if the thoughts were dying along with your last-living relative.

you wished that you felt happy, relieved to be released from him. or even sorrow, full of grief for your lost father. but you felt nothing.

───•───•───✧𓆩⟡𓆪✧───•───•───

chris enters felix’ chambers at dusk, waking you and felix from the sleep that neither of you intended to fall into.

“my father wishes to see you,” he addresses to you, waiting with leveled patience as the two of you slowly rise from the bed.

“is he angry?” your voice comes out as a whisper, betraying your anxiety.

“yes, but not at you,” he assures, settling a hand on your shoulder, his touch light. “do not worry.”

but you did worry, all throughout the walk to the king’s advisory chambers to when you enter the door, startling him out of whatever hushed conversation he was engaged in with his staff. when he looks at you he is angry, and you’re glad in that moment for christopher’s warning. you moved with more confidence than you truly had, chris and felix’ presence at your sides helping more than you cared to admit.

“you wanted to see me, sire?” you ask, your hands wringing together. felix takes one of them into his own, if only to stop your movements.

“i wanted to discuss things with you,” stephen waves off his advisors, waiting for them to leave the chambers before continuing. “regarding your father.”

“my father is dead,” you state plainly, moving forward until you were in front of the king. “i swear fealty to you, my lord.”

you slowly knelt at his feet, gasping in surprise when felix knelt by your side.

“whatever i can do to prove my loyalty, i will do it,” you assured, keeping your head down. normally, you would internally bristle at the thought of kneeling before a king like this, in an act of submission, but this time it was different. this time, it was your choice.

“you have proven your loyalty by going against your own kin, my child,” his voice was thick with emotion. “please, stand.”

you don’t, until felix does and pulls you along with him. you’re confused at his immediate acceptance of you, the daughter of a man who wished him such ill-will. you look at him and you’re sure he can see the puzzlement on your face.

“i did not ask for you here to make you prove yourself,” he explains, gesturing at the papers strewn about the table. your father’s notes. “i simply wished to thank you, for preventing such heinous acts from occurring. these notes…” he pauses, as if gathering his thoughts. “are unsettling. more were found in his chambers, detailing increasingly vicious flights of fancy.”

you would learn later that in your father’s notes were his plans for you, for once his own were executed. perhaps stephen felt pity for you as a result of what he saw. when you meet eyes with the king, any trace of anger is gone, replaced with a deep kind of sadness.

“thank you, for keeping my family safe at the sake of your own welfare. anything you wish for, i will grant it.”

your mind screams at you that you don’t deserve it, that you had put them in more harm than anything, that he doesn’t owe you any kindness.

“i wish for nothing that i do not already have,” you glance at felix, shooting him a small smile when you notice the pride gleaming on his face.

───•───•───✧𓆩⟡𓆪✧───•───•───

it takes less of jumping through diplomatic hoops than you would have expected to sign your kingdom over to stephen. the lands were adjacent to one another, so rearranging property lines was as simple as removing a single line from a parchment map. you learned that it was more common than you had originally thought to combine kingdoms, though usually it resulted from acts of war. you were queen for all of two days before officially resigning.

your father, for all his boasting, did not carry many alliances with other nations, and the ones he did have stephen was glad to cut off. your father’s knights did little more than grumble about having to change their colors, and the ones that refused to were promptly dismissed from service.

the castle that was once your home was a different case; you never wished to go back there, other than to gather the things that still held your mother’s touch. that place hasn’t been a home to you in a while, but you decided that it could be a home to someone.

it would take some time, but you had plans to turn the palace into an orphanage. a place where everyone and anyone could come and seek shelter, food and water, and company. it was the least you could do for your people, who had suffered under your blind eye for over a decade while you sat in your chambers, ignorant to all that was going on outside the palace walls.

the biggest relief was the weight of your kingdom off of your shoulders. maybe it was selfish to think that way, but you had never asked for that life. you knew your people were in better hands with stephen than they ever would have been with your bloodline, and you could think of no better successors than chris and roseanne.

you had your ladies in waiting brought from your old palace, but they did little more than help you dress. jeongin had become your formal assistant, but you considered him a friend and a confidant more than anything. you had offered him and his family whatever he wanted, now that the riches your father held were in your name, but he had refused. he simply asked for a new house in the lower village for his parents and siblings, but stated that he wished to remain in the castle.

you and felix decided to hold off on announcing a formal betrothal, deeming it wiser to let the kingdom that had nearly doubled in size settle first. you had not been together long, after all, and most of your time together was spent with you under a guise. you took the time to relearn each other, to memorize every miniscule detail of the other’s personality, your habits and your mannerisms and your preferences. despite your earlier reservations, propriety mattered little with the two of you; you spent even more time together than you did before, and you had all but moved into his chambers, only using yours when you wanted someplace quiet to think.

you don’t remember a time when you were happier than you were now. for the first time in your life, you looked toward the future with brightness.

#WAS SO EXCITED TO READ THIS #i love the descriptions of the castle and the different kingdoms #it makes it so much easier to immerse myself in the story and envision it unfold #i hate her dad sm it's insane #and her feelings are so well portrayed #FELIX MY BELOVED HE'S SO SWEET being friends with everyone 😭😭#“there will be nothing in your possessionto remember him by then”#OOF #yk what i love #how she still seeked approval from her dad and felt good when she received it #it'd be too unrealistic if she sided 100% with felix after only one day #idk if this makes sense dkndndnd #HIM REMEMBERING THE FLOWERS DETAIL JDJDJDJDBDBDB #THE DREAM the subconscious telling of the guilt #“.. a perfect balance of everything” THAT'S SUCH AN ACCURATELY BEAUTIFUL DESCRIPTION OF FELIX #the making love description is so subtle yet so intense i love it #“you're going to take his father from him too” OKAY OUCH THE REMINDERTR #IS IT JEONGIN WHO HEARD THEM #also fuck her father I HOPE HE DIES IDC #THE BRUISES STOP SHE DOESN'T DESERVE THIS :((( UGHHHHHH #i love chris #NOOOOO #felix saying i should've believed them I'M HURTINGGG #I LOVED THE ENTIRE MURDER ATTEMPT SCENE #especially the dialogue #THE FATHER EXECUTED???? the world is healing war is over i am sleeping well tonight #SHE STAYEDDDD #plans for her????? omg #I HOPE HE DIED A SLOW DEATH #YESSSS THE ENDING SHE DESERVES AHHHV IM SO HAPPY

2K notes · View notes

pedgito · 5 months ago

Text

𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄, 𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐍𝐎𝐖 | Joel Miller x reader

summary | set in the world of handsome, dirty, rich. joel is celebrating your one year anniversary with a few surprises. alternatively: how fast can ali turn a new pedro pic into a fic? also, bless @undercoverpena —she set me on a dangerous path with this one.

content warning | sugar daddy!joel, reader has no description other than a vague mention of a dress, thigh riding, borderline public sex/voyeurism, the use of a certain undergarment for pleasure, fingering, established relationship, sneaking around, subtle dom!joel & brat!reader, pure filth i do not apologize, un-beta'd

word count — 2.7k

He’s rented out the entire restaurant. All for you.

It doesn’t dawn on you at first, but as the primly dressed workers attend to you at the door, carefully removing the coat off your shoulders while another guides you toward the table in the corner of the restaurant—the rest of the space was dimly lit, except here. The overhead light casted a warm but pale yellow glow down on the table. Two plush, leather chairs that you were sure cost at least half of your monthly rent—not that you paid that, either. Joel had made sure of that.

You tried to deny it in the beginning, to fend off his constant willingness to make sure you didn’t have to stress or lift a finger when it came to finances—that you could focus on your degree without any outside distractions.

Your relationship was still something kept between the both of you, a sacred bond in a bubble that hadn’t been popped yet. It was perfect, too perfect. And you refused to give that up just yet.

“Really?” You ask, scrunching the dress up near your hips as you take a seat in the pulled out chair, careful that it wouldn’t ride up too high, but it seems futile as the moment you both hit the seat, Joel’s palm is settling between your legs. His palm curls around your left thigh, a comforting gesture he did whenever he had a moment to touch you—it doesn’t move, doesn’t linger too close or too far, it’s just there. You rub your thumb over his knuckles and smile.

“I shoulda told them I wanted the center table, huh?” Joel joked, flashing that perfect smile, his cheek dimpling. ��Only the best for my girl.”

“Oh, because the empty restaurant you rented out wasn’t enough?” The playful resonance in your tone makes Joel chuckle, but quickly fades as he sees one of the several waiters approaching.

He orders some fancy bottle of wine you can’t pronounce and you can’t help but stare. He’s so…dressed down, compared to you. A simple white shirt, black jeans that he’s worn on several occasions but always hugging his thighs in a way made your mouth fucking salivate.

You weren’t even five minutes into this date and you were ready to cut short and run, saddle up over his lap in the driver’s seat of his truck and sink down on his cock for a quick five minutes of pure bliss, feeling the full extent and intensity of his love for you in the way he let his guard down in those moments.

The second you’re alone he’s moving his hand from your thigh to the nakedness of your neck, sliding around the back and guiding you toward him, a surprisingly gentle kiss against the column of your throat followed by a soft, “Never enough, baby.”

God, he was in a mood today.

It was nearing a year of making…whatever this was official. It wasn’t asking for your hand in marriage or even to be his girlfriend, just a silent agreement that you both wanted whatever it was that you felt for each other, regardless of labeling it. And that was what worked the easiest for you both. You tried not to think about it too often, the outside distractions and betrayals you were allowing to happen when buying into his attraction to you.

But, right now, that was the last thing on your mind.

Joel does all the ordering—a three course meal of chef’s choice that came with a hefty tip.

So, they were very good at leaving you alone. Just as Joel had requested.

“Did you like your gift?” Joel asks after some time, using the cloth napkin to wipe at his mouth, peering up at you as he forks another piece of food into his mouth.

Gift. You huff a soft laugh through your nose behind closed lips.

“Oh, those—” You roll your eyes playfully, poking at your food with your fork, “yeah—of course.”

And you were absolutely wearing them, just like he asked.

A sleek, lace pair of panties with a matching bralette, but the very obvious bump of a vibrator tucked away in the gusset of your underwear was a dangerous, dangerous game. They didn’t come with a remote but you knew exactly where it was, watching the smile on Joel’s face grow more relaxed as he was on his third cup of wine, but somehow more drunk on the sight of you.

“Wearin ‘em?” Joel asks, just to be sure. “Like I told you?”

“Why don’t you find out, Mr. Miller.”

He hadn’t heard that in a minute, his tongue poking at the inside of his cheek as he reached blindly, but with careful precision for the remote in his pocket.

The buzz startles you at first, but it was faint. You could ignore it easily, so you did.

“Eat up,” You motion to him and his forgotten third-course, a too sweet dessert that neither of you could finish on your own, but you were willing to do anything to distract him, “don’t be rude.”

Joel quirks an eyebrow up and chuckles, “Mouthy tonight? Alright.”

It was a specialty of yours, knowing just the right amount of brattiness to get under Joel’s skin.

The vibration picks up without warning, Joel now leaned back in his chair, left leg crossed over right and his hands resting in his lap, pointedly placed over the obvious growing bulge in his jeans that he was attempting to hide.

You hand grips the table in shock, jostling the silverware slightly.

Another soft laugh from Joel and you shoot daggers in his direction.

“In public? Seriously?”

“We’ve done worse,” He shrugs, “remember that night down at the beach over the summer?”

You did. Very well, in fact.

He had fucked you so hard the ache didn’t go away for a week, right there, on the beach—a group of college kids partying not even less than 20 yards away. You knew they were watching and maybe it was the result of genuine, human curiosity. But, the whistles and shouts—it sent a bolt of excitement down your spine, causing you to squeeze around Joel’s cock as he pumped into you, coming inside of you with your face pressed into the sand.

It wasn’t your proudest moment, but damn did it make the ache between your thighs so much worse as the memory floods your mind and Joel seems to notice you becoming spacey, nudging it up a few more notches and that causes a seering look of warning, teeth gritting as you gripped for his thigh, blunt nails digging in while your other snuck between your thighs, gripping hard on your dress as you squeezed your legs shut against your hand.

“Come here,” Joel says as he beckons with two fingers, curling them in a way you were all too familiar with.

“Joel, not here—” You stress, looking around at the vacant restaurant.

You couldn’t even hear them moving around in the kitchen anymore. You turn back to Joel and he’s still waiting, daring you as he scoots his chair back a few more inches. He offers a hand, gently removing the one gripping his thigh and you feel your body moving against your better judgment, so willing and pliant to his touch.

He maneuvers you until you’re straddling his thigh, hand gripping your waist as he forces you to take a seat, the broadness of his thigh, the taut muscle against the press of the vibrator as it forcefully dug into your already swollen clit. You gasp, gripping the tablecloth in desperation.

“Go on,” Joel encourages, “right here—I already know what you want, baby.”

You used to think he only enjoyed the idea of you using anything but his cock to get yourself off, but you quickly realized that it was your favorite thing to do—it was the only time he got cockier than usual, more teasing, seeing how easily riding his thigh would unravel you. It felt primal, that need for release and it was building in your core, that tingling heat lingering in wait.

“If they come back—”

“They won’t,” He stresses, his voice gruff and low as a palm spreads out over your back, the other one finding its home on your thigh, so dangerously close to the hem of your underwear underneath the silk dress, “slipped them a note—”

“Don’t tell me you t-tipped them so you could get your fuckin’ rocks off in the middle of din—” Joel increases the vibration another level and your jerk, holding back the strangled moan that dared to escape as you cant your hips against his thigh, “fuck, Joel. This is—”

Joel shushes you, fingers crawling up your back until he can grip the back of your neck, holding it tight as he pulls you up, head falling back instinctively against his hand, “Ride it, sweetheart.”

You can’t help the subtle rock of your hips, eyes scanning the room anxiously—you’ve never been this intimate in public, at least not with the looming chance that anyone could walk in and see you; arms spread out to grip the table cloth and Joel’s hands all over you, leaning forward over his leg. The table provided enough cover that unless someone decided to step within a few feet, they couldn’t see anything.

Still, your heart raced.

“Come on,” He teases, the subtle twang to his voice that had you clenching around nothing, the constant hum of the vibrator tucked away in your panties doing nothing to help quell the ache, “I rented out this restaurant for us, asked them to give us some privacy and you’re still feelin’ shy?”

“If someone were to walk by, Joel—”

Joel grips at your neck tighter suddenly, pulling you until his chest is against your back.

“I’ll turn that thing all the way up if I need to and it’ll stay on ‘til we get back home.”

His place, he means. He often called it home because it had become that to you. You had your own place, your own things, but you still found yourself there more often than not. A drawer in his closet tucked away with your belongings, your toiletries tucked away in a cabinet so Sarah wouldn’t ask questions. You’ve become masters of this game of hide and seek, managing to keep this entire thing quiet for close to a year.

Maybe it was just dumb luck.

He adds emphasis on his statement as his other hand slips between your legs and under the silk hem of your dress, palm pressing flat against your cunt and leaving you no room to wiggle away, hips jerking against his touch as you moan out, your hand slapping over your mouth at the sound.

“I’ll give you the next sixty seconds, baby,” Joel warns, glancing down at the shiny Rolex on his wrist, “if you don’t come, it’s gonna be a hell of a ride back.”

As if to make you suffer more, he slips a finger between the wet, sticky fabric of your underwear and over the line of your cunt, dragging through your slick and slipping a finger inside of you wordlessly, angling the vibrator stuffed inside the gusset of your panties against your clit with perfective precision—feeling the throb of your pussy around his fingers, the tight clench of your walls, you find yourself rocking against his thigh mindlessly, desperate to chase that relief.

You couldn’t breathe—the feeling caught in your throat as he lifted his leg only a few centimeters higher, foot raised off his heel, your dress slipping up slightly higher under his grip and allowing him a clear view of your ass, the delicious curve and the black lace that clung to your skin. He could pull his cock out and get himself off there within just a few minutes if he really wanted to and slip himself inside you right as he came, knowing how much you enjoyed being stuffed full of him.

“Attagirl,” He commends you, a grin growing on his face that you unfortunately can’t see, but you feel it—his gaze, the hot press of his hands on your body, “just like that.”

Your eyes fall closed, heading bowing as he releases his hold on your neck to grip at the fabric bunched at your waist, slipping his hand over bare skin, fingertips pressing into the flesh of your waist, aiding in the hurried rock of your hips. The feeling of fullness comes from his fingers when he slips in a second, squeaking out a quiet “Fuck,” as your hand slips, slapping against his other thigh for support, accidently brushing your fingers against the remote tucked away in his pocket and dialing up the vibrator to the max, unknowing that it was only a level off.

“‘’S right there, darlin’,” Joel softens his tone, picking up the pace of his fingers fucking into you, his grip on your hip tighter, undoubtably ruining his jeans for the night, but he clearly didn’t mind.

The feeling builds—the quick and constant stimulation does nothing to help, sending you flying over the edge with a gasp, crying out Joel’s name as he keeps you stuck, pulling out his fingers in an instant and turning off the vibrator, leaving you to wade through the orgasm untouched.

“There you go, baby,” He coos, “makin’ a goddamn mess on my jeans, aren’t you?”

You nod, feeling dizzy as your head spins and your body goes light, whining through the sensitive friction of the denim against your cunt and Joel slides a comforting hand up your spine, rubbing against the middle of your back.

“Still with me, baby?”

You nod quietly, raising your head up slowly.

Joel chuckles lowly, patting gently at your thighs until you turn sideways in his lap. He smiles softly at the disheveled state of you, much less composed than a moment ago.

“What was that about?” You ask after a moment of gentle care, his lips pressing against your neck, chin, before pressing against your lips in the most tame kiss he’s ever given you.

He’s checking in.

“Wanted to cross somethin’ off my list.”

You raise your eyebrows in pleasant surprise, a small laugh bubbling from your chest as you adjust your dress over your chest, “A list? Like…for sex?”

Joel shakes his head, pulling his lips together in a nonchalant frown.

“No—well, there’s some of that on there but…things I wanna do with you.”

“Oh,” Color you intrigued, you push one of his imperfectly styled curls back behind his ear, “care to share?”

Joel swipes a dollop of whipped cream on his fingers and shakes his head, “Where’s the fun in that, baby?” You shrug as he presses the cream to your lips and you open dutifully, allowing him to press the whipped sweetness against your tongue, mixed with the taste of yourself as you close your lips and suck just for show, kissing his fingertip teasingly as he pulls away and pinches playfully at your thigh.

You laugh airily, reaching for your phone on the table as you turn to him, pulling up your camera.

“Wait—you really have to see the look on your face,” Instead of keeping the dumbstruck look on his face, he brings his hands to his mouth in the act of blowing you a kiss and you snap the picture with a smile, letting out a startled yelp as he tips you back slightly, nearly into the table as he angles your body to allow his lips to touch your ear.

“Take those off,” He tells you, “otherwise I’ll be tempted again.”

“No self control, Mr. Miller?”

Joel catches your chin between the thumb and pointer of his left hand, cutting off the small giggle that starts to escape your mouth and his eyes are pensive for a brief moment before softening, “Do as I say, darlin’. We got a long drive back.”

You nod, feeling his thumb swipe over your bottom lip before he’s helping you off his lap, swatting at your ass playfully as your feet hit the floor.

“Yes, sir,” You reply flippantly, leaning in to press a quick kiss to his cheek before you disappear.

Joel smirks to himself as he reaches for his wallet.

You were right, without a doubt.

Joel had no self control when it came to you and he quickly realized that he’d be willing to do just about anything to make you happy.

divider creds: @/saradika-graphics

#joel miller #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x y/n #pedro pascal characters #tlou fanfiction #the last of us fanfiction #pedro pascal fandom #pedro pascal #my writing

770 notes · View notes

gwynbleidd-enthusiast · 3 months ago

Text

Geralt and his mommy issues

Geralt was abandoned by his mom when he was just a child, leaving him with deep emotional scars. In the books, there are subtle yet significant references to how this abandonment shaped him, particularly his subconscious search for maternal warmth.

SoD:

"She treats you entirely like an object [...] and what you feel is a projection of her emotions, the interest she shows in you. By all the demons of the Netherworld, Geralt, you aren't a child [...] You trail after Yenna like a child, enjoying the momentary affection she shows you." - Istredd

BoE:

"Always on his side, aren't you, Nenneke? Always worrying about him. Like the mother he never had." - Yennefer

Tlotl:

"He maintained the appearance of secretiveness and pride. But at night he was completely in my power. He told me everything. He paid homage to my femininity, which considering his age was extremely generous, I must admit. And then he fell asleep. In my arms, with his mouth on my bosom. Searching for a surrogate for the maternal love he never experienced. Completely in my power." - Fringilla

This passage vividly illustrates Geralt's deep-seated need for maternal care, seeking comfort in a way that echoes the bond between a child and a mother 🥹

SoD:

"'Do you hate that woman, Geralt?' 'My mother? No, Calanthe. A choice should be respected, for it is the holy and irrefutable right of every woman.'"

Geralt’s response shows his complex feelings toward his mother, acknowledging her choice abt wanting to have a child or not, while also - what seems to me - revealing a deep, unresolved pain.

ToC:

"Listen to what?" shouted the Witcher, before his voice suddenly faltered. "I can't leave—I can't just leave her to her fate. She's completely alone... She cannot be left alone, Dandelion. You'll never understand that. No one will ever understand that, but I know. If she remains alone, the same thing will happen to her as once happened to me... You'll never understand that..." - Geralt about Ciri

Geralt’s fierce protectiveness over Ciri stems from his own experiences of abandonment. He is determined to shield her from the pain he endured.

Geralt and red heads:

Several times it's subtly hinted that Geralt has an inexplicable inclination toward redheads, that perhaps ties back to his unresolved issues with his mother.

SoS:

"Geralt felt an anxiety, forgotten and dormant, suddenly awaking somewhere deep inside him. He had a strange and inexplicable inclination towards redheads in his nature, and several times that particular colouring had made him do stupid things. Thus he ought to be on his guard, and the Witcher made a firm resolution in that regard. His task was actually made easier. It was almost a year since he'd stopped being tempted by that kind of stupid mistake."

Note what he felt when he encountered his mother before in SoD who has red hair:

"He looked again, making the most of the light. Her hair was tied back with a snakeskin band. Her hair... A suffocating pain in his throat and sternum. Hands tightly clenched into fists. Her hair was red, flame-red, and when lit by the glow of the bonfire seemed as red as vermilion."

The vivid description of his mother's flame-red hair and the intense emotional reaction it evokes in Geralt suggest that his attraction to redheads might be more than just a superficial preference. It could be a subconscious connection to the unresolved feelings of abandonment and longing for maternal warmth, linking his "inexplicable inclination" to deeper psychological roots.

What do you guys think?

#geralt of rivia #book quotes #the witcher #witcher #mommy issues #abandoment issues #henry cavill #witcher 3 #witcher books #cirilla of cintra #unresolved trauma #the witcher 3 #jaskier #book analysis #witcher geralt #andrzej sapkowski #wiedzmin #geraskier #yennefer of vengerberg

234 notes · View notes

pricegouge · 3 months ago

Text

very quick companion/prequel piece to this

cw: brief descriptions of sex, power imbalance i guess

Simon's not well enough adjusted for a job like this.

It had been an easy enough position to lie his way into when he'd been on the lam and desperate for a place to lay low for a while, while still keeping his belly full. Tie a few knots and pen a few docile little creatures who've never even seen the south pasture, and everyone believes you're a trained stable hand. Free meals, free cot. Even a few house maids would warm his bed if he behaved himself long enough to pass as a good christian who'd make honest women out of them. Easy enough when the birds were barely even literate, harder when the employers themselves were the devout sort who took notice of each of the help's comings and goings because they were too proper to suffer a whore under their roof. They watched their flock like hawks, strictly enforcing curfews and dress codes and wing assignments. Simon couldn't even eat in the big house, let alone spend the night. And forget about luring the birds out, the owner of the place sat up in the parlor all night reading verses aloud and denouncing anyone who tried to sneak out for so much as a smoke.

But the young one - the son. He was worse yet.

Blue eyed and well built, covered in the kind of dense stubble that could lend him a sort of roguish charm if he could risk his place in heaven long enough to roll his sleeves up past his wrists, John MacTavish was a maid's fantasy in the flesh - and completely wasting it. Too devout, maybe. Too inexperienced to know when a bird fancies him, more like. Either way, Simon feels himself creeping closer to an edge he knows all too well every time he watches good ol' Johnny denies himself a night of proper relief.

He's two months into the job and one flustered employer incident away from stealing an heirloom rifle from the big house and putting Johnny out of his fucking misery when Simon decides he's had enough of listening to this ungrateful little git put down pretty serving girl after pretty serving girl in favor of a Lord that would never love him. Finding Johnny in one of the field houses berating a hand for sloth of all things, Simon sends the young boy scarpering with a particularly well aimed scowl and corners the little lordling with a subtle shuffle of feet designed to lure him into a sense of dominance until it was too late; until Simon had him on the stall wall, flustered and red and spitting mad.

He's not hard to subdue, all things told. All that Catholic rearing makes him eager to please. Simon calls him Johnny, like the head of the house does. Johnny's big eyes turn pleading when he asks what Simon wants, as if requesting guidance.

Who is Simon to deny his employer?

"Just like that, Johnny," Simon encourages, cock rammed so far down the lad's throat he's not surprised when his pretty blue eyes start leaking tears. "Just like communion."

It's not, but that doesn't stop Johnny needing it anyway.

He seeks Simon out nearly every day, keeps him from his chores. Simon doesn't give a shit, keeps a bag packed under his cot just waiting on the day the head butler sends him off. He never does, kept in line by Johnny's sway, probably. Simon tests his limits, decides he's above reproach when he spends an entire day lounging on a large rock in a brook past the east gate and catches no flack.

"Cock that good, pup?" He asks Johnny later that night, the younger man bent over a bay of hay in the small barn like a loose little housemaid whore. He whines like one too, his hoarse voice carrying enough to keep even the most intrusive stablehands at bay. No one besides Johnny's ever enjoyed being part of Simon's sins, after all.

"You make me untouchable, did you?" He's referring to his position, how he's starting to believe he could posture himself as head butler come the morning and they'd just let him. But the way Johnny looks back over his shoulder at him is far too intense.

"Anyone else touches you, they'll never work again."

It's good until it's not. Novel, at least. Simon's never been the favorite pet. He entertains it for as long as he can bear, but he's had enough pets of his own to know it's not a position he can manage. Like the job itself, he's not well enough adjusted; and a misbehaving dog is a kept dog all the same.

Getting Johnny properly under his thumb is harder than he expects, the man too well suited for his position in life. Properly groomed for it by his father. The solution is so obvious it nearly draws a proper laugh from him when he sees you fawning over the boy one day through the kitchen window, servile and sweet - eyes lowered in submission.

If Johnny needs to keep someone, who's Simon to discourage it? The good Lord knew he'd never been swatted on the nose for the same. Better just to give the boy something to chew on other than his own arm.

#ghoap #ghoap x reader #fruitful dark hours

91 notes · View notes

thekinkyleopard · 5 months ago

Text

Hold Still

A BlyFry Snz Fic

⚠️Content Warning⚠️

Force Holding, Snz Fet, Smut, WLW

Description: this fic is based off this prompt!

Author’s Notes: You have been feeeeddddd!!! I don’t CARE if you don’t want the lesbians /i/ want the lesbians 👹 I love them. Anyway, enjoy BlyFry torture. 🥰 @aller-geez owns Freya and did the cover art!

Freya was curled up in the pit of Blythe’s arm, snuggled close as they enjoyed the sound of a gentle rain from their open cottage bedroom window. “It’s so peaceful out here..” the angel sighs with neutrality as her fingers trace up and down her lover’s exposed torso.

“I agree, lover, there’s nothing quite like laying with you next to the sound of mother nature existing as she comes,” Blythe's voice was a low murmur, vibrating against Freya's cheek where she nuzzled in closer. The scent of petrichor hung heavy in the air, a comforting aroma that mingled with the delicate fragrance of Freya's skin. As the rain continued its soft patter against the window, the world outside seemed to fade away until it was just the two of them cocooned in their intimate sanctuary.

Freya's touch was light yet purposeful, her fingers dancing across Blythe's skin with a feather-light nudge that sent shivers down her spine. Every caress was like a promise, a silent vow of love and devotion that spoke louder than any words ever could. Blythe's breath caught in her throat, her heart swelling with an overwhelming sense of adoration for the angel in her arms.

In that moment, nothing else mattered but the sensation of Freya's embrace, the sound of the rain outside, and the unspoken bond that held them together like two perfect puzzle pieces completing the picture. They laid like this for a few moments before there were light sniffles that started from below. “Snddff…H’h..” Freya quickly shook her head, trying to cast away the irritating feeling that began to make itself known within the passages of her sinuses. “iihh..D-Darling….I th-think the wet pollen is…agitating me…” the fallen finally admitted, Blythe looked down at her girlfriend, concerned at first but her inner monster couldn’t help itself. She wrapped her hand along the underside of the Angel’s jaw and forced her gaze upward into her own.

“Do tell me, Angel,” she asks with a heavy seductive tone. Freya gulps loosely. Bly's eyes gleamed with a predatory hunger as she held the woman’s gaze captive, her hand exerting a firm yet gentle pressure on the angel's jaw. The subtle shift in her lover's demeanor did not go unnoticed by Freya, who could feel the heat rising in her cheeks at the intensity of Blythe's stare. “M-My…l-love…?” she questioned softly, barely above a whisper.

The sensation of the wet pollen irritating her sinuses had been momentarily forgotten, replaced by a different kind of ache that pulsed through her veins. Despite the discomfort beginning to build in her nose, there was an undeniable thrill that coursed through Freya at the dominance displayed by the succubi. It awakened a primal part of her being that yearned for submission, for surrendering control to the one who held her heart in their hands. The forbidden feeling.

With a soft whimper, Freya leaned into Blythe's touch, her breath hitching as she felt a wave of arousal wash over her. The rain outside seemed to echo the rhythm of her racing heart. She knew this situation all too well. “What is it my Angel? Do you need to….sneeze?” She asked curiously, but behind that curiosity was a sick sadist that needed to be quenched.

“K-Kinda…” the fallen mumbled with slight hesitance. As often as she was ready to please her insatiable partner due to her affliction…she wasn’t sure she was ready to submit to the game up the succubus’ sleeves.

Blythe's lips curled into a knowing smile at Freya's hesitant admission. The succubus could practically taste the tension that hung in the air, a heady mix of desire and uncertainty. She leaned in closer, her breath ghosting across Freya's sensitive skin as she whispered, "You know what you need to do, my Angel….Let go for me," Her voice was like silk, smooth and seductive, coaxing Freya to surrender to the inevitable urge building within her.

Freya's chest tightened as she felt the first tickle of a sneeze creeping up her sinuses, a sensation that both thrilled and terrified her. The conflicting emotions warred within her, but she couldn’t just let it out that easily. “h-Heh…” she started but then swallowed it back, hard like a gumball down one’s throat. The succubus raised a brow and quickly flipped their positions so that the angel was below her and she hovered over top.

“What is this hesitation? Shall I induce a punishment for disobedience, my love?” Freya blanched at the thought of Blythe's punishment, her mind conjuring up images of spankings and other torments. The succubi’s eyes narrowed in warning, and Freya could feel the heat of Blythe's body against hers. A wave of nervousness washed over her as she realized she had pushed her partner too far.

“You’re still holding them hostage from me hm? Okay…then I suppose there’s no other choice….hold still,” the woman quickly thrusts her lover’s hands up and attaches them to the handcuffs secured to their headboard already. The angel gasps gently her nose stinging and leaking with the need to release but she couldnt possibly fathom what the succubus had in store for her. The sensation of being restrained only intensified the anticipation that gripped Freya's heart. She could feel Bly’s eyes on her, studying her every move, every twitch of her body as she waited for the storm to unleash itself.

As the seconds ticked by, the pressure building in Freya's nose grew more and more unbearable. She could feel the squishiness of her swelling nostrils, the tickle-turned-itch that threatened to consume her entire face in a sudden burst of sneezes. The rain outside seemed to emphasize the echoing beat of her heart, and Freya felt as though her very soul was being exposed and offered up to Blythe's predatory gaze.

The succubus could see the struggle in Freya's yellow eyes, the tension that twisted her features into a mask of both desire and anxiety. And with a cruel, seductive click of her tongue, chuckled at her girlfriend. “You’re so adorable, chained up at my will,” she teased, the woman then quickly pulled a box out from under the bed with a swift movement. Retrieving the hitachi wand from inside. “You’re going to wish you would have just listened, my dove,” she shakes her head solemnly but her eyes glisten with sin.

The fallen's heart pounded in her chest as the succubus approached her with the Hitachi wand, its vibrations pulsating with anticipation. The scent of her arousal filled the air, mingling with the earthy musk of her sweat and the floral notes of the scented candles scattered around the room. The succubus trailed the wand over Freya's nose, sending a shiver down her spine as the gentle hum against her sensitive skin threatened to precipitate her into a sneeze.

Blythe's eyes held a wicked twinkle as she continued to torment her lover, the vibrating massager teasing Freya's nostrils and the inside of her quivering lips. The crisp sheets crinkled beneath them, the only sound in the room other than the storm outside that seemed to mimic the tempest brewing inside Freya's body. “Now now, don’t you dare, you made the commitment to hold them back, remember? So hold them back,” Bly demanded of her lover with a strict, authoritative tone, while Freya let out an exaggerated, tortured whimper.

“B-But…” she started, her breath catching in her throat, wrists tugging at their restraints and her legs spreading further apart to accommodate for her girlfriend sitting between them.

“Aht, Aht, hold them back,” Blythe mocked, her voice darkening like a storm cloud as she wielded the Hitachi wand with a deft touch. Freya's entire body tensed, her skin prickling with awareness as she felt the vibrations from the wand radiate through her, lingering on her nerve endings. She could feel her heart pounding in her chest, a wild beat that matched the frenzied rhythm of the rain drops hitting the side of their home.

It was as if the elements themselves were conspiring against her, trapping her in a whirlwind of sensations that threatened to overwhelm her. The betrayed smell of her sweat mingled with the heady scent of her arousal that seemed to bloom like a rose beneath her, sweet and intoxicating. The succubus noticed and took a deep inhale of her surroundings. “Delightful…my sweet Angel’s scent is so intoxicating…” The air felt heavy, as if the very molecules around her had been saturated with desire and anticipation.

She clenched her fists on each side of her body, trying her best to keep the explosions she so desperately needed inside her body as her forehead started to sweat. Bly now tracing her free hand across the exposed thighs of her girlfriend who was only sitting in a thin night gown that had fallen behind her hips in this position. “Your skin is so beautiful..” the demon licked her lips as the tips of her fingers drew patterns up Freya’s inner thighs.

The angel moaned, unable to withdraw the desire building within her quim at the touch of her lover’s hand. It was proving too much, holding back her sneezing, and being touched so intimately. “B-Bly…” she tried to protest as the buzzing continued to echo inside her skull. Her nose felt like it was going to explode, every breath seeming to teeter on the edge of uncontrolled expulsion. She could feel the tightness in her head, the gears of her sinuses grating together in their effort to contain the pressure building inside her. Freya's sinuses strained against the vibrations, her nasal cavities expanding and contracting in response to the intense stimulation. The warmth of her lover's touch against her sensitive skin only added to the mix of lust, further fueling the fire within her. The storm outside seemed to act as a mere background to the frenzied game they played, as lightning bolts of pleasure and need struck her from within, threatening to tear her apart in their intensity.

A single tear escaped her blackened yellow eye, trailing down her cheek as she felt herself losing the battle to hold back her sneeze. Her body shuddered involuntarily, her muscles clenching and unclenching in a futile attempt to delay the inevitable moment of release. The scent of her arousal became more pronounced, mingling with the musk of her sweat and Blythe’s own prominent pheromones. “I must taste you…” the Succubus whispered hungrily keeping her arm in position but sliding down the fallen’s body, she used her free hand to pull Freya’s panties to the side to expose her wet folds, sliding a wicked forked tongue against them. The angel wanted to throw her head back and release everything she’d worked hard to hold back, but she didnt. She whimpered, low and long as the sensation of her girlfriend’s lips closed around her throbbing clit.

It was two fold the trouble, the wet, messy mouth now ravishing her sacred treasure, and the wand electrifying the entirety of her brain through her nostrils. She couldn’t form a single thought. The Hitachi wand continued to vibrate against Freya's nose, its hum a constant reminder of the battle she was waging against the sneezes that threatened to escape. She could feel the pressure building in her sinuses, the walls of her nasal cavities were red and swollen, as if they were being stretched to their limits. Her nostrils flared with each inhale, and small droplets of sweat glistened on her skin as she fought to contain herself. Every breath she took felt like a challenge, a fight against the inevitable release that awaited her.

Blythe cooed and hummed against the sensitive throbbing bud, allowing her tongue to massage the underside before teasing her aching hole. “S-Shoot…” Freya ‘cursed’ as the feeling of release was just hiding around the corner.”P-Please…Bly-Blythe…”she pleaded. “I’ll…b-be…go-good…” she stuttered and swallowed trying to keep her promise and hold fast against the vibrating assaults. Her breathing had become short and sharp, her heart pounding furiously against her fingertips as she gripped the bed sheets tightly. Her eyes were wide with lust, her skin flushed with arousal and sin.

As Blythe continued her assault on Freya's swollen bud, her forked tongue dancing around it with expert precision, Freya's resolve began to waver. The pleasure built like a tidal wave, threatening to crash down upon her and obliterate her fragile control. She could feel the storm brewing within her, the electricity of ecstasy striking her from within, igniting every nerve ending in her body. Her breaths came in ragged gasps, her heart pounding in her chest like a war drum. Her scent thickened, filling the air with the heady aroma of raw, unbridled passion.

The Hitachi wand continued its relentless attack on her nose, driving her closer and closer to the edge with every pulse of electric vibration. Her sinuses strained against the intense sensations that plagued her, both from her head to her delicate parts, she was on the verge of insanity. “I’m gonna….Blythe..I’m gonna…” prepared to release, her orgasm built inside of her groin with a persistence that was now unavoidable. Sensing her girlfriend’s approaching release, the succubus pulled the wand away from Freya’s leaking, swollen and reddened face to force a double sensation.

“OH MY GOD…” the angel threw her head back as her orgasm suddenly started to fold her over with Blythe’s tongue still actively working against her but at the same moment it threw her off one edge, the release of the vibrating wand against her face came free and she found herself thrown over a different edge at the same time. “H’IhhSHHHHiew!! essh’IEW!” she finally sneezed, a cloud of spittle falling over cast the both of them, her body convulsing and twitching under the force of her orgasm, but this didn’t stop the succubus, she wanted more, she would drain every last sinful drop off the ethereal.

“B-Ly…iit’SSHHIEW! eh’TnSHiEW!” the fallen throws her head against the headboard, her hands pulling and tugging at the restraints above her, desperate to touch her lover but denied the access. Freya’s sneezes were like bombs, shaking the very walls of the room and sending a shower of droplets spraying across the intimate scene. Blythe, undeterred by the sudden exhalation of her lover's nasal passages, continued to lavish attention on Freya's sensitive regions, her forked tongue swirling and flicking against the angel's needy clit. Every sneeze felt like a blow to Freya's arousal, yet with each release, she found herself growing more and more flushed and overwhelmed with passion.

The Hitachi wand, now abandoned on the bed, hummed softly in the quiet moments between Freya’s sneezes. Its absence was a cruel reminder of the intensity of the sensation it had unleashed, and the angel knew that it would not be long before the agony and ecstasy of her orgasm returned. Blythe's tongue moved to wrap around her throbbing bud, sucking, teasing and while Freya fought to swallow the attack, it only intensified against her pleasure. “EhH’tshiew!” she collapsed with defeat after she sprayed another plume of wet mess. Blythe wanted to speak, she wanted to interject with something spicy, and quick, but her hunger. It drove her as she devoured her lover’s liquids. She knew there was more. Bringing up her hand she inserted her index and middle fingers, curling and twisting inside her twitching and shuddering lover. “h’Heh..iiKKSCH!!” throwing caution and followed by a high pitched moan as her body rolled into Bly’s motions.

The sight of Blythe's fingers buried deep within her was too much for the innocent to bear. Her body convulsed with each thrust, her heart pounding against her ribcage like a wild beast trapped in a cage. The storm within her raged on, the lightning bolts of pleasure and need striking her from within, tearing her apart in their intensity. She couldn't hold back any longer. “I’m gonna...I’m gonna...” she gasped, her voice cut off and swallowed by the burning static that consumed the passages of her nostrils. Blythe now fully thrusting her hand with a speed and intensity that caused the fallen’s eyes to roll back. “Aa-AH Hi’iHHSHHHhiew!” another convulsive sneeze rattled the room, spraying saliva and droplets of arousal in a chaotic arc across the space around them. Blythe released Freya's clit with a satisfied smirk, her tongue now flavored with the sweet nectar of her lover's arousal. “An absolute dish,” She grabbed Freya's ankles, pulling them apart and exposing the angel's dripping core to the cool air. The sudden constriction of the clitoral hood sent another jolt of pleasure coursing through Freya's body, the intensity of which was matched only by the explosive sneeze that followed.

“Eshh’iiiiewww!!” Freya cried out, her back arching off the bed as she convulsed with the force of the sneeze. Blythe took advantage of the momentary breather, leaning in to lick and taste the droplets that lingered on the angel’s lips.

“Good girl,” she whispered breathlessly, herself tired out from the overconsumption. Blythe lowered her head to Freya's chest, feeling the rapid pounding of her heart, the sweat dampening the fine fabric of her dress. The room was now sweltering, heavy with the scent of sex and the faint, earthy tang of the air that had shaken them both to the core. Her fingers traced gentle circles on Freya's skin, seeking to soothe the fiery tension that still lingered between them while the ethereal caught her breath.

As Freya's breathing began to slow, Blythe couldn't help but admire the exquisite beauty of her lover's face flushed and glistening, her eyes half-lidded with pleasure. It was a sight that made her own heart race and her throat dry with longing.

The coolness of the room against the heat of their bodies was a welcome relief, but it also served as a reminder of the urgency to solve a problem. Lazily, the succubus got out of bed and closed the window, looking back at her flushed and spent partner she smiled, sweetly, the hungry demon inside her satiated for now. “Better, my love?” Freya blinked her tear filled eyes allowing them to clear before turning her head to inhale deeply, feeling a sense of calm and clarity now that the window was closed.

“Much,” she breathed, her voice still slightly hoarse from the exertion. Freya's eyes fluttered shut as she surrendered to the afterglow, her body still humming with pleasure. Blythe, ever attentive, crawled back onto the bed to lie beside her, wrapping her arms around Freya's waist.

She nuzzled her nose into the crook of her lover’s neck, inhaling the intoxicating scent of their lovemaking, the mix of their arousal and the lingering traces of musk from the outdoors that had started to dissipate. The room was now filling up with the scent of their passion and the warmth of their bodies, a testament to the depth of their desire.

Blythe traced her fingers along Freya's collarbone, her touch soft and gentle, like the caress of a summer breeze. The angel hummed delightfully, leaning closer into her sadistic lover. “You’re so naughty…” Freya giggled, to which she was met by a dismissive scoff.

“Me? Dont play coy, darling, you’re just as filthy as I,” they giggled together as they spent the rest of the day rolling in between sessions of passion and contentment.

The End

Author’s Notes: another short one for you guys to consume while I try to get my shit together 🫡 I love BlyFry so much idc

75 notes · View notes

sonicjustbecause · 4 months ago

Text

Shadow incarnations

My three favourites

Maekawa's (especially SA2)

Original Shadow, unlike the others, was just cool. He didn't try. He was aware of this but he didn't try to be cool. Being cool came natural from him. Probably the only incarnation who was able to lie (I don't remember him lying outside SA2), despite this, the most genuine Shadow of all, because he just acted the way he felt like at the moment, like the kid he was, and just like Sonic does. Sulking? Having fun? Sending death treat? Celebrate his victories? Fist bumping? He just did all.

Is also true that his fleshed out personality was all compressed in a tiny space of 9 hours, because he was meant to die, so you had to slowly know him, and is beautiful how it gets unfolded. First you judged him wrongly (through hero story), then play with him, learning about his past and getting to love him (This Shadow is shown to be friendly in the latest part of the game when he finally opens up and actually not much an introvert. In all games written by Maekawa, he is always hanging on with somebody, usually Rouge but also Knuckles and Blaze in Sonic and the Black Knight, and Maria in Sonic Adventure 2. He is just quiet and reserved), then, when happiness is finally handy, he dies. Is tragic.

If Sonic is like the wind, Shadow is like water. In Italy, subtle personality like his are compared to water. Water is calming and serene on surface, but it hides dangers in the depths, is dark and it can suddenly become dangerous. That's Shadow. He is subdued and never gets angry, the dangers are always below the surface. He is dangerous because he is insane due to his traumatic past, his loneliness, his intense sadness and his suicidal tendencies. Unfortunately he doesn't want to die alone, he wants to bring the whole world with him. All of this can be spiced up by his stubborn and melancholy nature that makes the whole thing more explosive. He's very dark and scary (In current -edgelord - characterization, where he is presented as always angry, he is less intimidating. Simply because too much is too much, for the same reason Sonic's glares are way more effective than Shadow's because unusual).

Original Shadow is calm, intelligent, he might be a bit of a science fanatic. In his description of the Eclipse cannon, he resemble the most classic of the mad scientist villain, including some Mr.Burns postures with his hands, his voice was lively.

He's not an actual villain. Before the tragedies of his past he had a gentle and caring nature. But then his family was destroyed and he survived, he was feared, betrayed, brainwashed, captured, sealed. He became mistrustful, cynical, apparently cold, showing his qualities only to his closest friends.

And an interesting detail there, he never opened up to Rouge in SA2. He opened up to Sonic and Amy.

Unlike many future incarnation, the original Shadow was not particularly violent. He greatly favored brain power, leaving brute force for emergencies. Thinking about the games of that period, he virtually spared all his foes, or at least the very same foes Sonic would have spared and took down foes that Sonic also would have take down.

He is soft spoken and quiet. I especially love his VA of that time, David Humphrey, smoother juvenile and engaging, even cute voice. He shows a large range of emotions and attitude on Shadow. Jason was not bad either.

Archie (Universe)

The most expressive Shadow. (I should talk about the problems in Sonic's expressions and where I think they come from) more gruff compared to the original Shadow, aloof and more violent, but also very soft with his friends. I think is based on Adventure Shadow.

Enemies such as Eclipse and Metal Sonic help to reveal many aspect of his personality that Shadow himself might not be fully aware about.

Eclipse, bad design yet compelling and great personality, is his main foe. He shows how dangerous and ruthless Shadow can be when he gets serious/focused. Despite being a villain Eclipse cares sincerely for his friends and family and tries the diplomatic way with Shadow, similar to what an hero would do, with no success.

Metal Sonic instead helped to show Shadow's lack of free will. Yes, Shadow can still be compared with water there too. Unlike the wind that is boundless (and Sonic with his total freedom), water is always contained in some way (dams, bottles etc), controlled and follows a fixed path. When not following the path it can get destructive. If Shadow is not contained, he can cause mass destruction (everything about him is controlled, his path, the rings he wears to control his power, even his will). He is like an organic android, made in flesh instead of metal, his intelligence is AI, programmed twice by a human. But he has a heart, for this he suffers. A lot.

I think Shadow's peculiar speech pattern also shows his artificial nature.

Prime

Is one of the less gloomy versions of Shadow. I would say in Sonic Prime, Shadow is healing. He is mentally strong and more self confident. He still doesn't trust people but he is hopeful for the future. His strenght also helps Sonic to not sink (metaphorically).

Like Sonic, he has a lot of flaws and he is well aware of them. Unlike Sonic, he has a better attention span and has a better control on himself (he sighs a lot when upset or uneasy and this helps him to calm down).

He is outspoken with Sonic as well as he is awkward and shy toward strangers and extremely introverted. He is also so elusive at the point of feeling like some sort of mystical creature. Half of the times is not his fault.

He can be playful, mischievous and knows how to have fun.

The VA is Ian Hanlin. His voice is deeper than David's but is still youthful and soft.

#shadow the hedgehog #sonic the hedgehog #sonic #shadow #sonic prime #eggman #tails nine #tails the fox #nine #sth #Sonic andventure 2 #Archie sonic #Sonic universe

49 notes · View notes

4str0nuts · 4 months ago

Text

AN ANALYSIS OF HORROPEDIAS OUTFITS: BOTH INSIGHT ONE AND TWO

disclaimer: this will be written less formally than my autism analysis ! be wary

horropedia has one of the most basic and simple(in a nice way) outfits in game, and would probably be mistaken for an npc by someone who doesn’t play the game, as he looks like a normal foundation member . however, after some intense staring and late nights, there are some interesting details within both outfits that i believe reflect both the foundation and horropedia very clearly— even if they aren’t clear!

I'll start off with his insight one outfit, a simple, neat, and basic design that clearly abides by foundation rules. Though looking closer, there are inconsistencies with his design. Despite how “advanced” the foundation is, horropedia still carries around a gadget kit; he also only wears one glove, wears a dashing green clip tie, and his sweater vest is practically untucked. Despite the foundations harsh rules, he still manages to maintain parts of his personality and hobbies, despite being silenced in the past; this all reflects his experiences within the SPDM. His inconsistencies are all a giant ‘screw you’ to the foundation, no matter how hard they tried to make him a ‘good kid'. Even so, he still has to uphold his ‘ideal self’ to maintain the little freedom he has, showing how the foundation still has this control over him.

One thing i found interesting throughout his designs is the green present. The description of his tie clip reads “just the dash of mania the routine needed”, which i feel perfectly represents his character in a simple way. No matter the rules he abides, he will always clash against the rules laid out in front of him; it’s subtle yet is a giant statement against the foundation.

Onto his insight two: scruffy, expressive, and unneat— practically the opposites of what the foundation enforces. In fact , ALL foundation references are removed from his character, the only thing remaining is his shirt. The green is now present in his shirt, vibrant and bold with a design clearly at the front. This could represent how Horropedia is still fighting against the nature of the foundation from being his own person, the shirt hiding the graphic tee as if to keep it hidden and out of sight. His insight 2 design is more outlandish and childish, almost like it is diy or handmade; his gadget kit is a great example of it, the fine design now replaced with leather and stitched up as if it was frankensteins monster. His design reflects his childhood with his grandpa, picking up what pieces there were and building his own life with him. Despite his limitations, Horropedia tries to create his own safe space to express himself. Though even in that safe space, his experiences within the SPDM almost suppress him even till this day (throw back to the shirt). Anyways, this is another fuck you to the foundation.

One thing that doesn’t really fit in anywhere is the description of Horropedias insight 2; “A little monster under the sheets and a steadfast guardian of the heart.” This perfectly goes along with what i have stated before about Horropedia being his own person and reflecting on his childhood; how he protects his heart / the things he loves so closely, his ambition will never falter.

Another thing that I've noticed is the fact Horropedia still has the watch on in both of those outfits. It doesn't exactly fit with any of the two, and I have mentioned how advanced the foundation is (look at laplace). A reason i’ve come up with (and a personal head canon) is that the watch is from his grandpa, and holds great meaning to him.

I don’t have anything to wrap this up with so i’ll take the time to mention his udimo! His udimo has a bandana representing the foundation yet he still carries around a horror movie poster in his mouth— another fuck you to the foundation. It goes to show how he is now accustomed to the foundation life whilst also trying to love put his life in his own way. That’s all that I needed to say , hope you have enjoyed reading!

#astronuts talk #horropedia #character analysis #reverse 1999 horropedia #reverse 1999 #r1999 #analysis #character design

48 notes · View notes

strawbeerossi · 1 year ago

Text

I Can See You

18+ Content. Minors DNI

Pairing: Fem!Reader x Aaron Hotchner

Description: When a new agent joins the team, she's beloved by everybody and Aaron admires her dedication. He admires it so much that he fantasizes about her in every possible scenario to the point where he has to distance himself. One day, she confronts him.

Content Warnings: Power imbalance with leader/team member , reader is flirty with Hotch and loves seeing him flustered, he gets tired of her running her mouth, exhibitionism kink (kinda?), spanking, reader is gagged with a necktie, praise, degradation, fingering, unprotected sex.

Word Count: 2.6K

Navigation || Masterlist || Taglist || Request

Tags 🏷️ @beardedhotchh @pastanoodles11 @morgthemagpie @x0xonatalie

This has been rewritten twenty times. I had to post this before I deleted it all over again. So, I'm sorry in advance if it isn't like my usual writing.

Aaron Hotchner was the stoic, fearless leader of the Behavioral Analysis Unit. He took pride in his strength and dedication to his career, even if most people didn’t understand how he could pull countless hours in a career field that took a physical and mental toll.

His life revolved around his job, his son being his other top priority, even though he really couldn’t very well balance things the way he intended. His loyalty to his career took a good amount from him as well. It could drain his sanity and a divorce came out of it.

He was tough, keeping his composure through some of the worst things imaginable when most others would crumble under all the pressures of a demanding career as well as a failed marriage. However, it numbed him from the horrors, making him tense all the time.

That is, until Y/N showed up at the BAU for an interview to take over an available position. She was the top of her class at the academy. She was physically, academically, as well as mentally strong enough to handle the job and she had a backlog of receipts to prove it.

Her life was spent with training, her father being a general in the United States Marine Corps, wanting his daughter to follow in his footsteps.

Imagine his shock when she used every piece of knowledge she had in order to get into the FBI.

It was a smart career choice for her. She could handle herself in the toughest of situations, being trained how to get through the most intense of scenarios. She also liked putting in her thoughts and ideas to a group who openly accepted them, nothing being shut out because she was the youngest of the team.

She was an asset.

Aaron had told her plenty of times how lucky they were to have her, how she was a tremendous addition to an already powerful group of profilers. She had a lot to learn but she was pretty well off.

Y/N loved her career and her team. However, Aaron Hotchner piqued her interest. He was well known as the leader of the BAU who has had a rich career and he had many written articles and other pieces of information that retold the stories of the most intense cases he ever had to get into.

It didn’t help that the man was sex on legs.

He was attractive, the smallest things he did captured her attention in such a way that there were vivid fantasies and daydreams of things they could do. She liked to think that she could show him things he hadn’t seen in years, if ever..

So, that was when she was planting subtle seeds. There were lingering touches and flirting that would make Derek Morgan blush. It was innocent enough, the casual flirtatious remark that would have the unit chief flustered, cheeks a shade of dusty pink.

The idea of being with a member of his team seemed wrong. Not only was it a ton of paperwork but it was also an H.R. nightmare.

It couldn’t stop him from fantasizing though. All the ideas he had about bending her over his desk, his tie forced into her mouth in order to muffle the cries and moans that would spill from her lips.

This was dangerous territory to tread. Yet he liked the game, the risk of it all. The problem was that he couldn’t very well just come on to her, the biggest risk factor being the word spreading across the office. That was the last thing either of them needed.

These vivid fantasies forced him into hiding, his office being the place he’d be able to be alone in. The same office where he’d glazed his knuckles with cum just thinking about the sheer idea of having Y/N under the desk, her lips enveloping his cock like she was made for it.

It was one of those days where he had to hide away, the quiet nature of the office being contributed to paperwork being caught up on and files being put away. Aaron was doing his best, gazing at an open file while he was tapping the back of the pen against the desk.

His mind was quite adventurous today, his cock hard and luckily concealed by the desk he was positioned at. All Y/N did was sip her coffee from a straw, her lipstick staining the metal straw from the tumbler as she was enthralled in her own paperwork.

Somehow, that was enough to have him trembling in his office chair.

It was pathetic, like he was reliving the times of being a horny teenager who got turned on by damn near everything in sight.

However, it wasn’t long until he heard a knock against the door, gaze tilted upwards. That was when his worst fear entered the room. Y/N. The one who had him hard as a rock at his desk, the one who had been giving him hell for the months she’d been working there.

“Y/L/N. What can I do for you?”

“I wanted to drop off a file for your review.” Her words were soft as she held it up. “Also, can I talk to you?”

Fuck.

“Of course. Shut the door.”

The minute the door was shut, that was when that suffocating sexual tension was filling the room, so bad that he was sure he wouldn’t be able to breathe until she left. “What’s the problem?”

“Are you mad at me? Because you haven’t spoken to me. You actively ignore me.” Her boldness was something he expected, the woman not being one to lightly word anything.

“Of course I’m not mad at you. I don’t see why you’d think I’ve been avoiding you.”

“You run straight to your office! Don’t bullshit me, Hotchner. What did I do?”

“Nothing! You’ve done nothing.”

She didn’t believe him, eyes narrowing as she leaned back in the chair behind her. She was sure why he ignored her. Or maybe it was just a delusion she had where he actively wanted her just as badly as she wanted him.

“I see the way you look at me, Aaron.”

“Excuse me?”

“You think I can’t tell? You think I didn’t notice the way you make it a point to brush against me? The way that you wait for me before you even attempt to walk down the hall?”

Fuck. She was a better profiler than he gave her credit for.

“I don’t know-”

“You think I also didn’t notice the way that you looked at me when I was sipping my coffee? The way that you just had to run into your office before anything could be noticed? Aaron, you’re a profiler. You should do better at hiding your reactions.”

The words had him flabbergasted, mouth open in disbelief from the indication that he’d be turned on by something as small as her sipping a straw. Too bad she hit the nail right on the goddamn head.

“This isn’t appropriate. I advise you to leave my office.”

“Walk me out. Or are you too afraid to show me how right I am?”

The silence after that was loud. It was like Aaron had to collect himself.

“That’s what I thought.” Y/N taunted, making the male finally stand up from his desk. That was what caused her to shut her mouth entirely, looking at her boss wide-eyed as if she’d just gotten in trouble.

“What? You’re not gonna talk anymore? I think you’re getting too smug with this.” He spoke, voice low as the tone of authority took over. He walked to the office door to lock it, lowering the blinds soon after to avoid the whole office looking inside.

“Nothing to say?” He asked, arms tucked over his chest as Y/N was slowly looking away. “W-well..”

“Pathetic. I knew you were all bark and no bite. It’s a shame.” He tsked, head shaking with disapproval. “Now get up.”

Y/N was slow as she was standing up, her face flushing as she could feel arousal soaking into her panties at his authoritative tone, his eyes dark as he watched her body rise from the chair before her arms were behind her back.

“You’ve been pushing my buttons ever since you started with the flirting bullshit.” His veiny hands were moving to remove the tie from his neck, eyes watching her figure as she seemed frozen; a deer in headlights.

“I think it’s time to give a cocky little brat what she wants. Open your mouth.”

With an eyebrow raising, Y/N slowly let her mouth fall open. The moment she felt the tie being stuffed in her mouth, she barely had time to process what was happening before she was being bent over the desk.

There was a mess of files and other items that she’d landed on, head tilting to the side as she let her eyes stay on Aaron.

He looked at her with hunger, like a predator stalking its prey and ready to pounce at any given point. The normally beautiful honey colored irises were clouded over with deep lust, his hands running down her hips while he was situated behind her.

“You need to be taught to respect your unit chief. I’m not gonna tolerate your behavior any longer after this.”

The woman was keeping her eyes on Aaron, body making an effort to push back against his for any ounce of friction. “Ah! No ma’am.” The man began, hand roughly coming down to give her clothed ass a rough slap.

The sting had her moaning around the tie in her mouth, tears brimming her eyes from the pleasurable pain, body jerking when three more hits were coming down. “You’re not getting what you want. You are too entitled and I’m sick of it.”

His hands were moving to grip her hips, thumbs running over the skin under her shirt just to feel the warmth of her soft skin. “Let me know if you want me to stop at any point.” He spoke, tone hard yet his demeanor softened.

Last thing he was going to do was do anything that she was uncomfortable with.

When there was an indication that she wanted him to keep up with his motions, his hands were moving to bunch up the skirt around her hips. Aaron’s eyebrows raised in curiosity. “Look at how wet you are.. I haven’t even done anything to you yet.” His hand was running up the back of Y/N’s thigh, continuing onward until the palm of his hand was flush against her clothed cunt, the warmth radiating against his hand as he was adding pressure, chuckling at the muffled whine.

“So desperate. Gonna fuck you with my fingers, think you can handle that?” He asked, finger slowly moving to push her wet panties to the side, thumb making its way to her clit, eliciting another muffled moan. As his hand was pulling back, he let his middle finger slowly run through her folds, the arousal generously coating his finger before he was slowly pushing it into her tight heat.

He could’ve came in his pants right there, mouth open slightly as he was greeted with warm, velvety walls that were tightening around the digit from just how desperate the woman was. “Keep still.” He warned, watching the hips try and rock against his hand.

“You were talking so much shit earlier. Now look at how desperate you are,”

The words caused Y/N’s body to shudder with anticipation of getting more than one finger, playing his game and cooperating.

“There we go. See what happens when you listen and you’re not combative and smug? I just might like you better with my tie in your mouth.” He snickered, a second finger slowly sliding into her dripping cunt as he worked on scissoring her open. “Fuck, you’re such a pretty little thing.” He praised, unholy sounds of squelching filling the room from her wetness.

As his fingers curled upwards, he couldn’t help the chuckle that left his lips as soon as she was gasping around his tie, his fingertips pushing the spongy spot inside of her that had her eyes fluttering shut, drool from the corners of her mouth due to the tie starting to run down her jaw.

Thankfully, Aaron had an extra so this wouldn’t be suspicious when the other profilers were surrounded by Y/N after the deed here was done. If anything, this appeared to be a typical conversation between one of the team members and their leader.

When her walls were spasming around his fingers, he took the opportunity to slip both fingers out of her cunt while chuckling at her whine in response to that. “Such a needy little slut. Don’t worry.. I’m gonna take care of you. Just gotta keep quiet.”

The words made Y/N’s pussy clench around nothing, a muffled moan filling the office as the sound of his belt being undone chased behind it. After tossing the belt to the side, he pushed his pants down along with his boxers.

“Shh, I know.” He whispered as if it were a secret between them when he could hear her whines of impatience, his hand wrapping around his hard cock, hand giving it a few lazy tugs to prepare himself. He let his thick tip tease her folds, spreading her slick around as if the two needed lube. “Alright. Ready?”

With one hand on her hip, he was slowly pushing his cock into her tight cunt, groaning lowly as he watched her pussy envelope his shaft, swallowing him to the hilt while her hands were holding onto the desk tightly.

He waited a solid minute for her to adjust, his hand rubbing her lower back in an effort to soothe her, wanting to have her as comfortable as possible.

When she was giving him the sign she was ready, he was rolling his hips slowly, the man letting out a soft breath that he didn’t know he was holding in. Bringing both hands to grip her hips, it wasn’t long until he was doing deeper, faster strokes.

“Fuck, bite my tie harder, darling. You’re being too loud.” He murmured, hips continuing to slam into hers as a thin layer of sweat was collecting on his forehead. With the desk rocking at a rhythm with Aaron’s thrusts, it was no surprise when some papers or files were falling to the ground around the desk.

He wasn’t gonna worry about that now.

Currently, he was too focused on the rough snap of his hips against Y/N’s, the sound of skin crashing against one another as well as their combined noises filling the office, the desk making its own audio debut as he got a bit rougher as he was fucking her pussy raw.

“Fuck. I’m gonna cum.” He growled, cock twitching as he could feel Y/N’s tight cunt clench him in place, his hand now reaching down to find her throbbing, desperate clit to bring her to relief.

As soon as he could feel her velvety walls pulsating around him and the feeling of her creaming on his cock, that was it for him. His nails dug into her hips, no doubt leaving crescent moon marks while her cunt was milking all the cum that Aaron had to offer.

“Y/L/N,” He spoke, chest rising and falling as he was working on catching his breath, his hand moving to her mouth to retrieve his now soaked tie.

“You need some lessons on manners for that fucking mouth of yours.” His voice was low as he was pulling his cock from her warmth, watching his cum leak out of her pussy before slowly pulling her panties back up.

“I think I know just the way to help you though,”

284 notes · View notes

limitless-haven · 5 months ago

Text

Those Ocean Eyes

Synopsis: When you’re called upon by Tokyo Jujutsu High for an opportunity to study under the renowned Shoko Ieiri, you gladly accept the offer, leaving behind your old school. Here you start your new adventure, excited to learn and see where this life will take you, but what you don’t account for is that here is also where you truly fall in love for the first time.

Satoru Gojo is a charismatic enigma that captured your heart right away. As time goes on, you come to truly understand the pain behind those ocean eyes of his. The scariest part? His truth doesn’t terrify you like he expected it to. If anything it makes you fall more intense for him. You want to help shoulder the burden of his pain for the man you’ve come to love.

Word Count: 7.4k

Warnings: MDNI. Heavier flirting/lusting, description of a car accident, mention of blood, depiction of death

A/N: ***This is a slow burn. Eventually, there will be some spicy scenes but I will give a warning beforehand.

***This story does contain elements, scenes, and dialog from the manga/anime.

***This story was influenced by the song Ocean Eyes by Billie Eilish. Every time I hear the song, I can't help but think of Gojo and what a complex character he is. He is such a lovable character who deserves the world.

***This is also posted to my AO3 account under the name “kookie0807”

Chapter 2: Catching His Eye

Your throat feels dryer than normal and that causes you to swallow hard, licking your lips trying to bring some moisture to your mouth. The action doesn’t go unnoticed by the man sitting in front of you. He just sits there, staring at you. Waiting for you to finally say something to him. But you can’t seem to get your mouth working, your tongue feels heavy, and your head feels light, all of this from a simple question..? ‘What the hell is wrong with me?’ You ask yourself. Your eyes snap down to your feet. You can’t believe that it is this difficult to answer him. To say you're completely enamored by this man is an understatement. Your knees feel weak, like at any given moment they will give out on you. You feel your cheeks starting to heat up again. What is it about Satoru Gojo that’s got you fawning over his simple words?

He can’t help but find your reaction to his very, in his terms, subtle flirtatious way of questioning you, very adorable. Getting you all flustered over just calling you a ‘pretty girl’ has him wondering just how you would react if his comments got a little bit more suggestive, a little bit more vulgar. He grins a toothy grin. ‘She’s pretty cute when she’s all worked up.’ He thinks to himself.

“C’mon pretty, I just wanna know your name.” He says with a coy smile.

‘His voice is so hot. Oh god. It’s so hot!’ You think to yourself and that makes you blush a tad bit more.

“M-my n-names (Y/N) sir..” You say shyly. Your eyes haven’t left your feet yet. You’re afraid to look at the man. He makes you feel like you're back in high school with a silly little crush. Let’s face it, you’ve just met the guy and you’re already crushing so hard on him. But he’s supposed to be your teacher? Can you have a crush on your teacher? You are twenty-six, after all, so it’s not like this is morally wrong or anything. You’re an adult, he’s an adult so what’s the harm right? It’s just an innocent little crush on your very attractive teacher.

He chuckles and underneath his blindfold, his eyes are scanning your body from head to toe. He can’t lie to himself and say that your little flushed cheeks don’t stir something up inside him.

“Sir, huh?” He gives you that shit-eating grin again. “Haven’t done anythin’ to get ya to call me that quite yet pretty, jus’ call me Satoru. Please I insist.”

The suggestive nature behind his comment has your heart pounding in your chest, if it’s even possible for your cheeks to blush harder, they are. You can hear the blood rushing around in your ears. How can he say such sexually charged things so freely? This man hasn’t even done anything to you and yet here you are squirming under his gaze and simple words. ‘Pull it together!’ You demand to yourself.

He smiles at your reaction. He loves the way a simple provocative comment makes you squirm under his gaze. He likes how innocent you seem to appear. He wants to see just how far he can push you before you snap...

“S-sure thing…Satoru.” You stammer out. He can probably feel the embarrassment radiating off my body right now.’ You think to yourself.

He smirks at you. He can’t lie, he absolutely loves the way his name sounds coming from your pretty little lips.

“C’mon, pull up a chair so we can talk s’more.” He says as he gestures for you to grab a chair from the desk. You do so and sit down in front of him, it kinda reminds you of how an interview would go. “There ya go. Now, the ol’ geezer informed me that you're a Grade Three and it just so happens that ya have the same technique as Shoko. That true?”

Now this is a conversation you can have, as long as he’s not throwing out flirty little comments or making seductive ones, you're fine! All he had to do was keep that big mouth shut but you wonder how long that would last. You take a deep breath to calm yourself, look up at him, and begin.

“Well yes, but I haven’t been able to do such phenomenal things like Shoko. I-I can only heal some wounds and maybe fix a bone or two before my cured energy is drained..” You tell him, this time looking him in the face. This is something serious that you want to work on, something you’ve been dreaming about mastering to eventually save someone who might come across with injuries like your father did. You believe you owe this to him. He would have been so proud to see how far you’ve come. After all, he was the first person who taught you about the jujutsu world.

Satoru nods his head as you talk, he puts his hand under his chin as if he’s deliberating. Of course, Yaga made him read your file before he sent Satoru out to find you. He can’t lie, your file is pretty basic. Not much in hand-to-hand combat training, super basic defensive teachings as far as he’s concerned, you rarely went on missions at Kyoto, but you do possess the very rare ability to heal others and that is something even the strongest sorcerer can’t do. Healing himself is like second nature to him. He does it without even thinking about it at this point but he’s always wanted to know the secret behind using such a technique to heal others. Being able to heal others like that should have put you in a Grade One class like Shoko but he guesses because you haven’t been able to unlock the true power behind your technique, that old bastard Gakuganji stuck you to Grade Three. God, he hated the higher-ups with a passion. Here you were, you had such potential for great power, yet Gakuganji was holding you back. Knowing that if you somehow managed to perfect your technique, that would just make you more trouble for them. They were all cowards in Satoru’s eyes.

“I see,” he says. “Gakuganji’s hold in’ ya back. Fuck, I hate gramps.” He says as he sighs loudly and throws his head back so it’s resting on the back of the chair. He then continues “I can’t teach ya how to unlock the power of reverse cursed techniques or the doctor part, that’s more up Shoko’s ally. But, what I can do, is teach ya how to better regulate the flow of your cursed energy, makin’ it stronger and lastin’ way longer. I’ll also be in charge of your hand-to-hand combat trainin’ per the geezer's orders but have no fear, I’m excellent at martial arts. Some might even say the best.” He says as he leans back up off the chair and grins at you.

You smile at him. You appreciate him even taking the time out of his day to help you with such basic things other sorcerers were without a doubt better than you at. When trying to heal someone, you run out of cursed energy rather quickly so being able to control it for a longer time to heal more significantly is ideal. Also, learning how to kick some ass doesn’t sound half bad either. “Thank you, Satoru.” You say as you fidget with your uniform skirt. “C-can I ask you a question though?”

“Duh, I’m your teacher after all,” he says with a sly smile.

“Why do you hate Principal Gakuganji so much?” You ask. You didn’t miss the way he said he hated him and referred to him as ‘gramps.'

Satoru chuckles. “I know my methods are the best plus those old heads are too conservative for the future of the jujutsu world. Just take, for example, Yuji. He’s Sukuna’s vessel and Gakuganji wants him dead right now. Why do ya ask? Because he believes makin’ exceptions to long-standin’ practices is wrong. Whereas I say to let me handle it. I will beat Sukuna and save Yuji’s life.”

You’re stunned by his confession. You didn’t know that Satoru cared so much for his students, then again, you don’t know him at all. Hearing him talk so passionately about his determination for a new jujutsu world as you know, is refreshing. It’s refreshing to know there are still some sorcerers out there willing to fight for the younger generation. Back in Kyoto, the topic of Sukuna was strictly off-limits. You knew of him of course. How Ryomen Sukunan was a jujutsu sorcerer who lived over a thousand years ago and somehow has managed to traverse through time by transforming himself into a cursed object and somehow managed to split his powers among twenty fingers that have been scattered all around Tokyo.

“Wait..the kid with the pink hair? He-he’s Sukuna’s vessel?” You ask rather perplexed.

He gives you a baffled look, and his blindfold lifts on his forehead from raising his eyebrows. Did you actually not know anything outside of what that old bastard Gakugunji told you? Shit, you honestly were pure, it was invigorating to Satoru. He can’t help but let out a snicker. “Damn, princess. They really were keepin’ ya in the dark over there, huh?” He says as he tilts his head, glaring at you. “Megumi was sent to Yuji’s old school to retrieve one of Sukuna’s fingers. In the process, some curses get released and attacked them both. Megumi get pretty roughed up so Yuji ate the finger in an attempt to save him. And what do ya know? It worked!” He exclaims. “Now the little brat can switch with Sukuna at will.”

You stare at Satoru like he has three heads. WHAT THE FUCK? Why would Yuji ever eat a finger? That cant taste good at all, better yet….how the hell did he get it down? ‘Don't ask, don’t tell, I really don't want to know.’ You think to yourself and giggle a bit. “Wow, I guess I was left in the dark about that.” You say and rub the back of your head. Then like a freight train, it hits you. Did he just call you princess? God damn it, you feel your cheeks flush again and you're getting shy. “D-did you c-call me princess?”

Satoru cant help but find your reaction to his comment so fucking cute. He was starting to take a liking to you. He loved how you reacted to his flirtatious banter with you, he loved watching you squirm under his gaze, something about you demanded his attention when he was with you. Not that he was complaining, you're a very beautiful girl, with a toned body, shorter than him by so much that he towers over your small frame. He hums, but it sounds more like a slight groan. “I sure did. But if ya want, I could call you my princess. Would you like that better (Y/N)?”

This is the first time you've heard him say your name and it shot a rush down your spine. It felt like fireworks were going off inside your stomach. He’s so hot. His voice, his looks, his flirty personality, this man knew just how irresistible he was. Your cheeks are now a bright pink. You're so embarrassed right now, you can't believe just hearing him utter your name has you reacting like this. How the hell is it? That's your name and what he’ll be addressing you by and it has this monumental effect on you? Jesus, you wanted the ground to open up and swallow you whole. You can't bring yourself to look at him any farther so you put your head down and look at the ground and try to take some deep breaths. You see his other foot come over his leg and be placed on the ground. And before you know it his feet are getting closer to you, indicating that he’s walking towards you. You can feel him right next to your ear. Your sense of smell is instantly overwhelmed by him. You catch a whiff of his cologne. It smells like sandalwood but with a hint of sweetness to it. It exudes expensive.

“I like watchin’ ya squirm. It's very temptin’.” He says as his voice drops an octave almost sounding like a growl.

You almost gasp but bite your lip just in time. What the hell was he doing here? Does he understand how this is coming off to you? “S-Satoru, p-please-” You almost sound like you're pleading for him, in a very suggestive way. You can’t say anything more, your throat feels dry when you swallow, it feels like sandpaper.

This makes Satoru smile wickedly. He's delighted to see his effect on you because honestly, you're having the same one on him right now. He can no longer deny the fact that you've piqued his interest in more ways than one. More ways than a ‘student’ should. He snickers next to your ear. “Mmm, that’s even more temptin’ (Y/N). Careful now or I may jus’ want you to beg for me s’more.”

You feel a rush of arousal go through your body and straight between your legs. Does he mean that like you just took it? Your heart is beating so fast, you can feel it everywhere in your body. Did-did he just turn you on with a few words no less? Oh, this was going to be testing. How were you supposed to learn anything from the man when he said such sexually driven things like this to you? But before anything else can be said between you too, the door to his classroom slams open. And in walks a girl you’ve never seen before. She's pretty short, just like you. She has mid-length brown hair that covers the right side of her forehead, orangish eyes, and very long eyelashes. She spots got two immediately. She raises an eyebrow at Gojo.

“Ew dude...Don’t tell me I walked in on you trying to screw the new girl?” She says and from the sounds of it, she doesn’t put up with Gojo’a antics much.

Gojo just chuckles and stands up from beside you to his full height, tilting his head back, his delicious-looking neck on full display. Clearly, he’s been affected by the sexual tension in the room too. “Kugisaki has anyone ever told ya, you got shit timing?”

“Whatever Gojo. I’m here for her, not you. Thank god you transferred here. I was about to go stir crazy with all this testosterone around!” She exclaims as she walks over to you and holds her hand out. “I’m Nobara Kugisaki.”

You look up at her, still seated on the desk chair, and shake her hand. “I’m (Y/N) (Y/L/N). It’s n-nice to f-finally m-meet the other first year!” You stumble over your words. You too are still affected by Gojo’s words.

“Same girl. God I can’t stand being around these boys all the time, finally I’ll get to do some shopping!” She says and it looks as if she has hearts in her eyes. It makes you giggle. She seems like she’s going to be a lot of fun to have around and well, you do love a good shopping trip too. “Just promise me one thing, yeah?” She’s then looking between you and Gojo. “Please, please, don’t screw him.” She says looking directly at Gojo, giving him the nastiest side-eye.

If your face could get any redder, someone might mistake you for a tomato. God, was it that obvious how much you too were flirting just then? You start to breathe more rapidly. You don’t think your heart has beaten at a normal pace for…well ever since you laid eyes on Satoru really. You look down again and fidget with the hemline of your skirt.

Gojo places his hand on his chest dramatically, like a Victorian man who just saw a woman’s ankles for the first time. He lets out a little gasp too. “Kugisaki! C’mon, don’t be a cock-block now.” He then lets out a childish laugh.

Nobara just rolls her eyes at him. “Ew. Come with me (Y/N), let’s go get some food.” She puts her hand out for you to take it. When you grab her hand you hope she can’t tell just how affected by Gojo’s words you still were. You were shaking so badly. Did he want to sleep with you? You two just met today. Oh no, this was going to be a nightmare. Can you keep your feelings in check around him? Or will something end up happening between you two?

As you exit the room, you can’t help but hear Satoru laughing a little. Norbara pulls you along with her to the dining hall.

—————————-

At the dining hall, you spot Megumi and Yuji. You wave at them and then get in line to go get something to eat. Honestly, you were so shaken up by you’re interacting with Gojo that you didn’t know if you could eat or not but we weren’t going to say no to getting to know the others. You grab a slice of pizza and a bottle of water then follow Nobara to the table to sit with the boys.

Yuji is the first to speak to you. “Hey, how’d everything go with Gojo-sensi?” He asks, totally unaware of the sexually charged interaction you just had with said man.

“It was fine.” You say shortly and chug your water.

“The scrawny creep hit on you didn’t he?” Megumi says as he rolls his eyes and takes a bite out of the chicken breast on his plate.

“Sure did. Walked in right before he could snatch up his prey.” Nobara says nonchalantly as she takes a bite out of a watermelon chunk.

You’ve got to change the conversation quickly before you die of embarrassment. “Anyway, I heard from Satoru that you’re Sukunas vessel?” You ask as you look at Yuji.

He lets out a little laugh and rubs the back of his head. “You heard right! But to be honest, I’m not really fond of the guy. He's a pain. When I first arrived at the school he grew a mouth outa my hand and threatened to kill Gojo. But I know Gojo-sensi would beat him. After all, he is the strongest.” He smiles a wide toothy grin.

You blink slowly. “He can just grow mouths on your body?”

Yuji laughs. “Yeah, he can. It’s super weird.”

Megumi adds, “Downright disgusting if you ask me.”

You can’t help the laugh that comes out. You like this group so far. They seem to mesh well with one another despite their clear differences in personalities. You all finish your meal while chatting about all kinds of topics like favorite foods, what your techniques are, favorite games and TV shows, and so on. It felt good to be surrounded by kids with such potential, it reminds you of when you first entered Kyoto. You had a close group of friends there but as time went by you all went your separate ways. Some became teachers at Kyoto and some became full-fledged jujutsu sorcerers exorcizing curse after curse.

Once your dinner is over, you all get up and head towards the dorms. So far your analysis of the group is that Yuji is the most playful of the group, a little naive but thoughtful nonetheless. Nobara is a confident, beautiful girl who you can tell just by the little interaction you’ve had with her so far, has an unshakable character about her. And then there is the reserved Megumi. He’s very aloof and outwardly stoic. But somehow, deep down you can see just how much he cares for the kids he calls his friends.

OH SHIT! You forgot Shoko said to meet her in the medical lab when you got done with Satoru. Panic sets in. You’re not starting on a good foot by trying to impress Shoko and showing her you’re serious about learning from her. ‘Shit, shit shit.’ You think to yourself.

“Hey, I completely forgot Shoko wanted to see me in the medical lab after I got done with Satoru.” You say panicked.

“Oh. I’ll take you over to her then.” Megumi says very nonchalantly.

You smile at him and head off for the medical lab. The walk with Megumi is almost peaceful. Once you arrive at the lab, he nods at you and heads the other way back to the dorm areas. You let out a big breath as you push the doors open. This is what you have been waiting for. When you enter, you're greeted with almost the same lab equipment as the Kyoto schools. There are some machines that you haven’t seen before, but that’s why you were here. You’re so beyond thrilled to be able to train under such an extraordinary doctor like Shoko. You notice her in the corner of the lab, she’s got gloves on and she’s holding some test tubes. They look to be filled with blood, she starts mixing some liquids into the blood and then puts it into the centrifuge and it starts spinning. She throws her gloves away and looks up at you with a smile.

“Oh hey, there you are. I was starting to worry Gojo got you” She lets out a laugh.

Got you? What the hell does that mean? Your cheeks flush a little as you think back to your encounter with him in his classroom.

“Is he always like that?” You ask a little shyly as you watch the centrifuge spin.

“Cocky? Arrogant? Oh hell yeah, Satoru’s always been like that ever since we were teens. Flirty? Sometimes, it just depends on how much he likes you.” She lets out a snort of sorts. “Sorry hon, you seem to have caught his eye.”

You’ve caught Satoru Gojo’s eye? You knew he was being a little too flirty! WAIT...YOU'VE CAUGHT HIS EYE? FUCK! There goes your face again, bright red. You turn around so Shoko can’t see you but it doesn’t help matters as she only lets out another laugh.

“I like you already (Y/N).” She snickers and then adds “Well apparently not as much as Gojo.”

Great, was Shoko hitting on you now too? You can’t seem to catch a break around this damn school! Does everyone like to tease you? But you know she doesn’t mean it in the way Satoru does….but wouldn’t that be something?

When you calm your flushed cheeks down a bit you turn back to Shoko and give her a sheepish smile. “Please, enough about Satoru. I don’t think I can take any more teasing. I might end up on the embalming table next.” You joke. Shoko gives you a big laugh and smile. “What are you doing with that blood?” You ask, tilting your head at the centrifuge spinning around.

“Oh just creating some PRP. Quiz time. What is PRP used for?” She asks, genuinely curious about where your medical knowledge stands.

Without a skip of a beat, you answer. “It can be injected into a patient's injury to try and help reduce pain and improve recovery speeds.”

Shoko raises her eyebrows and smiles. “Not bad hon.” She compliments and you can’t help but smile brightly. This right here is fulfilling a dream of yours. Hearing the Shoko Ieiri give you praise? You wish your mother and father could be here to hear this. They would be so, so proud of you.

“But this is nothing compared to what we’re going to eventually get into. I want you on par with me (Y/N).” She says with a very promising look. “We’re going to make a doctor out of you before I’m done!”

“I would love nothing more.” You say honestly. You want to heal as many people as you can. You want to save all of those who come to you for help.

“Great, before you leave, I want you to take a book and start brushing up on your knowledge of the machines and tools in here. In the meantime, we’ll work on your reverse cursed technique.” She says. “But first tell me about it in your own words. Start from the beginning please.” Of course, Shokos already read your file, she knows about what you can and can’t do but she wants to hear it explained from the actual sorcerer, not a piece of paper.

Oh man, how do you even begin to explain this? “It all started I guess when I was young. I remember my father was teaching me how to ride a bike. I told him I wasn’t ready for him to let go, but you know how dads are sometimes.” You laugh at the memory. Your father loved spending every second he wasn’t at work with his family. “Anyway, he let go and I fell off. I banged my knee up pretty good and had a huge gash in it. There was blood all over my hands and running down my leg. He ran over to me as I was lying there, holding my knee. I remember my hands started to tingle when I made contact with my knee like I’d had some kind of allergic reaction, they kinda itched in a way.” You remember this day very vividly. This was the day you, your father, and your mother found out that you were capable of using cursed techniques. “And then it started to burn like I’d stuck them straight into a fire. There was this white, hazy glow over my hands. My dad just stared at them in shock. When the glowing finally stopped, my hands stopped burning too.” You look down at your hands remembering the searing hot, white pain of that day. “When I pulled them off my knee the gash was gone, almost like it never existed. And then I collapsed on the ground.”

“Got it. So you’ve been able to heal yourself since childhood.” Shoko says taking in all the information you just told her. “When did you realize you could heal others?” This is what she was most curious about.

You let out a sigh, remembering this day vividly too. “Well, my friends and I went to a party off the Kyoto school grounds, I was about eighteen. I left early because I didn’t want Principal Gakuganji to be upset with me. My friends stayed behind and ended up getting into a pretty serious car accident. One called me and told me what happened so of course I headed back out there .” You remember how smashed up the car was, how there was blood everywhere. One of your friends managed to escape with just a few cuts and scrapes. But your other friend suffered a broken femur and multiple lacerations. “The friend that called me managed to squeeze out of the car and we pulled the other girl out of the rubble. I remember her femur was sticking out the top of her thigh. It was the most gruesome thing I’d seen at that point in my life. Panicked out of my mind, I grabbed her leg and applied pressure to try and stop the bleeding. As soon as I made contact with her wound, my hands started to burn again, the same violent, scorching burn came back. But I couldn’t afford to let her go, she was bleeding everywhere, I didn’t want her to lose too much blood.” You look back down at your hands, rubbing them together. “Just like before, a white hazy glow started to appear. After a couple of minutes, we looked down and her leg was completely fine. No more bone sticking out, but there was still quite a bit of blood everywhere. When I removed my hands, I remember feeling so exhausted that I collapsed on the ground again.”

Shoko nods her head at you. “From that, you unlocked the power of healing others with your reverse cursed technique.” She says. “You said you collapsed both times after, I’m going to go out on a very reasonable limb and assume that’s because you exhausted all of your cursed energy.” She says. “It also seems like these traumatic events, no matter how big or small they seem, trigger something inside of you.”

You agree by nodding your head. “Yeah, you’re right. Those first two times really wore me out. But as time has gone on, I’ve gotten a little better at not collapsing so often, although the greater the injury, the more likely I am to.” You lightly chuckle. “Now that I think about it, you're right. I was under immense distress both times my technique was triggered.”

Shoko hums to agree with you. She knows her next question is touchy but she needs to know, this is vital information needed to help her understand you. “When I read your file, it said that you were on the scene when your father was brought back after his battle.” She speaks slower as if to gauge how you are feeling. “Do you mind telling me what happened there?”

Your eyes start to get teary thinking about the worst day of your life. Shoko places her hand on yours and gives it a gentle squeeze. “I’m sorry hon, if it’s too much please don’t. We can always talk about it some other time.”

But you shake your head at her. You came here to overcome this stupid block in your technique. “It’s okay Shoko. Honestly. I would be doing a disservice to my father if I never figured this out.” You let out a shaky sigh. This is the day you dread the most. “When-when they brought my father back, he-he was c-cut in half...I rushed into the morgue as fast as I could. That was the most amount of blood I’ve ever seen. His-his organs were lying on the embalming table beside him. My mind went blank and it was like I was moving on autopilot. I— remember grabbing both parts of his body and just-just-just praying to someone, anyone to help me. I held onto him and cried so hard I felt like I was going to vomit…” A single tear starts to roll down your face but Shoko hands you a tissue. “My hands n-never started burning like they always did. T-they were stone cold. So I pushed him together, I put his organs between the halves and pressed my hands over the gap but...but nothing. No burning, no white hazy glow. Nothing but utter failure…”

Shoko gets up from her chair and comes over to hug you. You lean into her embrace as puts her hand on the back of your head to bring you into her shoulder. You try your best not to cry but a couple of tears trickle down your face. You stay like that for a minute, just letting her hold you. You can’t help but think that Shoko holds you like your mother does. Shoko has such a pure soul and such a motherly touch. When you’ve calmed down you pull away and smile at Shoko. She gives you a soft but saddened smile back.

“I’m so sorry (Y/N). Thank you for sharing that with me, I can’t even begin to imagine how heartbreaking that must have been.” She grabs the tissue from your hand and dabs the little tears on your eyelashes away.

“No, it’s fine, really Shoko. You needed to know about how my abilities came to be.” You tell her, and you try to convey just how okay you are to her by giving her a glossy-eyed smile.

“I promise, if it’s the last thing I do, we’ll unlock that reverse cured technique fully for you,” Shoko says with a warm smile. That smile alone lets you know you can trust this woman with your life. There is no ounce of doubt in them. “It may take some time, but we’ll get it.” She reassures you.

You give her a small nod and take the tissue to clean up your face. After that, you're back to normalcy, no one would be able to tell that you’d been crying. It feels kind of good to be able to be so vulnerable with Shoko, you've never really experienced that before outside of your mother. Yeah, you had friends back at Kyoto but none of them understood the pressure of being expected to heal someone and the true physical and mental toll it took on your body. Every comrade that you lost chipped away at your confidence in your ability to save others. Being weak in the Jujutsu world was not an option. You had to save them, you had to try harder.

“Well, I think that's enough for your first day. Again, I’m sorry for making you relive that but I appreciate you being so open with me. Trust me, I know firsthand the strain of being looked up to for saving people feels like. Of course, there are going to be failures along the way but don't let that break you, just think of how satisfying it's going to feel once nothing can hold you back!” Shoko says to you as she walks over to the stack of books on her desk. She flips through the titles and picks one up. “Here, take this.” She says as she hands it over to you. “Well start light with getting you more used to my lab equipment. In the meantime I want you to work on how to get your cursed energy under control, in simple terms, you need to control your emotions when put in high-level stressful, anxious situations.”

You nod and couldn't agree more. Come to think of it, you did start to feel very jittery when someone's injuries needed to be healed was hanging over your head. “Right, you know best Shoko!” You say skimming through the book.

“You’ll be in Gojo’s hands for that part, I also heard he’s going to be training you to better your hand-to-hand combat skills?” She questions.

“Oh yeah, he told me about that earlier.” You say with a light giggle, your cheeks blushing a dusty pink at the mention of his name. ��Principal Gakuganji told me that I wouldn’t be going on very many missions so there was no point in getting good at hand-to-hand combat like that.”

Shoko stares at you. “You know, I’m starting to see Satoru’s point about him more and more. Why the hell would you not need to know how to defend yourself?”

You just shrug. “I never questioned his approach to my sorcerer education but from the sounds of it, I probably should have.” You let out a light snicker.

“Oh for sure. Yaga will never let you leave this place until you’ve got the skills to survive on your own. He may be a hard ass but he cares about all the students who pass through those entrance doors.” She tells you.

You nod at her. You’re excited to see what Principal Yaga and the others here at Tokyo can offer you. You're like a sponge, ready to soak up all the knowledge and experience they have to offer.

—--------------

You say goodbye to Shoko for now and head back to your room. While walking to your room you decide to skim through the book she gave you. You see some equipment you recognize like a centrifuge, incubator, microscope, test tubes, and hot plates but there are some that you don't know. Nonetheless, you are excited to move forward in your lab knowledge. After all, once you had a grasp on the lab equipment, you could move into the surgical side of things and then into the world of the mortuary. Your walk to the room is very quiet but serene. It has you thinking back to when you first entered Kyoto. You were so excited to become a sorcerer and make your father and mother proud but little did you know the road to being one would be so heartbreaking. Some days were better than others but when the bad days happened it made you want to throw in the towel. It made you want to have been born ‘normal.’ Reflecting on everything that's happened, you have to push the bad thoughts to the back of your head and move forward. You make it to your door and open it to enter. ‘Shit, I’ve got a lot of work to do.’ You think to yourself and start unpacking. You put up the majority of your clothes and you hang up some fairy lights on the wall behind your bed. You put up some pictures of your family and friends. Before you know it, it's pretty late. The sun has gone down completely, leaving behind the peaceful glow of the moon. These dorm rooms are a tad different than the Kyoto ones because you're lucky enough to have your very own bathroom! ‘I’m living the high life right now!' You think to yourself. You enter the bathroom with your pajamas, makeup, skincare, and hair products. You set everything up how you want it and hop in the bath. You just lay there for a bit relaxing in the hot water. After a while of scrolling on your phone and chilling you decide to get out. You get changed into the ‘pajamas’ you brought into the bathroom with you. You put on an oversized shirt and some underwear, the shirt comes down to your mid-thigh like a short sun dress would. What can you say? You like to be comfortable when you sleep. Plus no one is going to see you so what's the harm? You brush your hair and sit on your bed. You start to put some lotion on your body when you hear a knock at the door. Who could that be?

You walk over to the door and open it to find a very tall, white-haired man standing there. He looks down at you and grins. He likes what you're wearing or well, lack thereof. He's looking you up and down underneath his blindfold. He starts at your plush thighs, loving how they are on full display, how your shirt just barely covers your tiny body. His eyes roam further up and he notices your perky tits next. ‘Fuckin’ hell.’ He thinks to himself. Your body looks so soft and he wants nothing more than to run his large hands from your thighs all the way up to your tits and fucking squeeze them, he wants to watch your nipples get hard under his touch. He wants to suck and lick on them and hear those pretty little lips moaning for him, moaning his name. He lets out a strangled groan. He's getting too worked up with his imagination right now. “Hi pretty, ya miss me?” He says as he looks down at your tiny stature.

You're starting to go pink in the face with the way he's just standing there grinning at you. What is he doing here? At this time no less? You look up at his face. “H-hi Satoru, what are you doing here?” You ask curiously.

He licks his lips, an action that doesn’t go unnoticed by you. He leans against your door frame now, crossing his lengthy arms over his well-built chest. “Jus’ came to talk to my new neighbor.”

NEIGHBOR? SHIT! You totally forgot this wasn't like the Kyoto dorms at all. At Kyoto, you were divided into the boy's hall and the girl's hall, so you never interacted with boys around your dorm room. It seems here, that you are divided by age groups. Since Megumi, Yuji, and Nobara are around the same age, they are all in the same dormitory hall. That leaves you, Shoko, and Satoru to be on the same dormitory hall as well. Your face goes red as you realize how you answered the door. “Ah-a-a.” You stutter out before you stumble back into your room. When you catch your balance, you look up and see that Satoru is now standing in your room and the door is closed behind him. He has a smug grin on his face.

“Easy princess, wouldn’t want ya falling over. I might get a little show if that happens.” He says as he licks his lips again. “Not that I’d complain.”

Your body feels hot, your face is too red. You look down and grab your shirt, pulling it down to cover your exposed thighs. Your hands are shaking, your eyes are closed shut, and you've never been this embarrassed in front of a guy before. “Satooruuu.” You whine out.

He continues to smirk. He loves how you try to hide your body from him. He loves how those pretty little lips whined out for him. God, he wants nothing more than to push you back onto your bed and have you whining underneath him. “I told you earlier, I like watchin’ ya squirm pretty girl.” He says as he takes a step forward. He then leans down so he is at eye level with you. “I really like the way you say my name.”

‘PLEASE LET ME METEOR HIT THE EARTH AND KILL ME NOW!!’ You beg in your head. You open your eyes and see he's right in front of your face, close but not too close. You start to wriggle around with the bottom of your shirt. “Haahhh-please Satoru.” You squeak out.

Satoru can't help but chuckle at your response, he knows what he's doing to you. He can clearly see it by your body language. “Please what (Y/N)?” He asks.

There he goes again saying your name like that. It sounds too sensual coming from his lips. It sounds too good to be muttered. The way he says your name is the most arousing way anyone has ever said it before. You want to grab his face and kiss him until he’s breathless. Before you can answer him, he speaks.

“Please…tell you that I’m here to let ya know that we're gonna start training tomorrow.”

Right, training. You totally forgot about that part. You weren't really good at fighting, the best you could do was maybe hip-toss someone and throw a punch. Now how powerful that punch was is another story. You're toned but don't have a lot of muscles, you'd rather do some yoga or go for a jog than lift some heavy ass weights. When you did go on missions with the sorcerers at Kyoto they were told that you were to be protected at all times meaning you had never been in a physical fight with a curse much less a human being.

“W-what…?” You stumble out.

Satoru nods his head at you. “Ya heard right princess. You, me, alone in the sparing room.” He's got that shit-eating grin again, his pearly white teeth showing. “I can't wait to get my hands on you.” He almost groans out.

You stare at him, your face feels like it's on fire. Why does he say things like that? Does he want you to keel over!? You can’t move, so you just stand there looking at him.

He stands back up, towering over you. “Goodnight (Y/N), I hope you have some really, really sweet dreams.” He says and he turns around and goes out the door. You let out the biggest groan of frustration ever. Suddenly the door is opened back up and he pops his head inside. “About me of course.” He says, giving you one last smile, and then he’s out the door for good and going down the hallway to his room.

You throw yourself on the bed at lightning speed, grab your pillow, and proceed to scream into it! That man was so infuriating. Why did he have to be so insufferably cocky and handsome? You just sit in your bed for a couple of minutes, trying to calm yourself from well, today in general! ‘I’ve got to get ahold of myself around him! Starting tomorrow, I won’t let him get me so flustered!’ You think to yourself. After a couple of minutes of deep breathing, you grab your phone and call your mom. She picks up after just 2 rings.

“There’s my baby! How was your first day?” She asks excitedly.

“Well, Mom it was-“ You then proceed to tell her all about your first day, of course leaving out that a certain man loves to tease you mercilessly...

#gojo satoru #gojo x reader #smut #gojo smut #angst #slow burn #gojo x reader smut

34 notes · View notes

shintin · 1 year ago

Text

Forget Me Not: Chapter 37 (Knock, knock, knock)

↳ Gojo Satoru x Female Reader

Description: Having fallen into this world, you were forced to shed blood to survive. But what about when you get tired, when you think the blood on your hands won’t wash off and give up because you have nothing to lose?

Yep, you were there, at rock bottom, rolling in the deep.

Then, there came a day when life gave you a new chance to live, laugh, and love, or so she thought.

Genre: heavy angst, sad love story, maybe tragedy, violence, lonely hearts, broken souls, +18.

Tags/Warnings: nothing but angst.

Song Recommendation: Mitski - I Bet on Losing Dogs

Chapter index -> Next Chapter

Year: 2019

Y/N lay on her side of the bed, quietly watching him. Unaware of her presence, he blinked, trying to pinpoint when she had entered the room. Suddenly, he noticed she was utterly motionless, a kind of stillness that was distinctly hers. The realization struck him, and he took a breath, fully aware of the impossibility of this moment.

Yet, despite his awareness, a delightful sensation of blooming flowers filled his stomach, their soft petals caressing every inch of his nervous system. It felt like he had been granted three wishes: to see, feel, and have her once more. It was the most peculiar phenomenon—an extraordinary, joyous impossibility delicately wrapped in tissue paper, tied with a bow, and safely tucked away in his heart.

Everything felt incredibly authentic, to the point where he could even sense the fragrance of lemons and the scent of the sea enveloping her.

Satoru nervously swallowed, slowly raising his hand. His eyes widened in surprise as his finger touched her face's smooth skin. She went still as he gently cupped her cheek, which felt as soft as velvet petals. His fingers then traced along the curve of her neck and explored the scars on her shoulders.

She didn't say a word, but her eyes remained on him.

As his gaze returned to her face, he was taken aback by the way she looked at him. Her eyes carried a weight that worried him, yet her expression remained tender, focused, and brimming with emotion that he found it difficult to look away, captivated by her presence.

She closed her eyes, and he couldn't help but observe even the simplest actions she took: adjusting her weight, her hair sliding across the pillow, and the subtle trembling of her lips. All six of his eyes followed every movement of her body. This moment with her felt incredibly strange, causing his chest to tighten and his heart to race. She had a way of making him long to remain trapped in this dream indefinitely.

Then, she came closer and closer and closer.

Reluctant to disturb the enchantment of the moment, he reached out silently and held her hand as if she were a lonely, fluffy cloud in the sky, destined to vanish with the northern winds. He brought her palm to his lips, planting a gentle kiss upon it, desperately hoping it would dispel the emptiness in her eyes. But alas, the stubborn void remained steadfast. He managed a melancholic smile as she pressed her cheek against his palm, and he delicately brushed strands of hair away from her face. Something stirred within him, a surge of warmth accompanying the movement of her head. Leaning closer, she gently pressed her forehead against his, her breath caressing his nose like a gentle breeze.

"Please stay," Satoru whispered, tightly closing his eyes.

Expecting her to leave him again, he was caught off guard when her lips brushed against his chin. In response, a raw cry escaped his throat, resonating with longing. His mouth parted, and the warmth of her sweetened throat flowed into him. At that moment, he was incapable of thought or action, consumed only by the exquisite experience of savoring her presence. Each breath she took, every gentle movement of her lips, felt like a miraculous gift after weeks of separation.

He drew her near and kissed her, kissing her with such intensity that time seemed to lose its grip. In that fleeting moment, he momentarily forgot the misery of his life without her.

The bliss was limitless, but she broke the kiss, and her leg brushed against his. Opening his eyes, he found her smiling—a small, secretive smile that conveyed so many unspoken sentiments, the kind that no one else could ever say to him.

Was it possible to hold onto her, to make her stay? He kissed her gently on the forehead, the curve of her nose, and the corner of her lips. Under his touch, she seemed to swell, to grow more vibrant.

"Satoru?" she spoke, breaking her silence for the first time.

"Yes?"

She shifted sideways, and he willingly made space for her by his side. She seamlessly filled the emptiness, nuzzling her face into his neck. It felt reminiscent of the old days, the days before she had vanished into oblivion. With closed eyes, he embraced the moment as if in prayer, and his heart sprang back to life.

Her hand let go of his beneath the sheets, only to settle on his waist and gently glide down his thigh. The touch nearly caused him to lose his composure, but then she planted a light kiss on his pure white hair. He gulped hard, suppressing the reminders of reality that threatened to flood his mind.

"I miss you," she uttered in a faint whisper he almost failed to catch.

"I'm here," he reassured, softly caressing her cheek. "Right here, Y/N."

But she shook her head, defying his attempt to draw her closer until she dissipated into thin air.

He blinked, his breath ragged and gasping as it moved in and out of his mouth in quick intervals. His chest rose and fell rapidly, his breathing so loud it resembled the sound of someone who had been running for a long time. And then, the familiar white walls of the room released their hold on him. He made a silent vow to himself that he would love to forget how to wake up one day.

Drenched in sweat, Satoru sighed and leaned against the headboard, taking deep breaths. He needed a moment, so he tightly shut his eyes until her face carved itself in his mind. These dreams were his only opportunity to be with her. Although he willingly let her go, he searched for her in the following days, not to bring her back but to ensure her safety.

Yet, it felt like the ground had opened up and swallowed her whole. She had returned to being the ghost she once was as if she had never existed, as if the echoes of her laughter hadn't filled this room just a few months ago, as if his body didn't still carry her scent. He ran his hand over his eyes and rested it on his neck.

Honestly, he had been considering the idea that Y/N might be a product of his imagination. Perhaps it was because he couldn't fathom how someone with a personality like hers could survive in this harsh world. Moreover, he struggled to comprehend why someone like her would show any interest in a heartless, self-centered person like him.

Yet, through the bond they shared, he could feel her existence. She was tangible, alive, moving forward without him. Yeah, that's the thing. The most challenging aspect wasn't letting her go; it was coming to terms with the fact that she didn't wish to remain, and that realization caused even greater pain.

Satoru berated himself and pushed the covers away, taking a seat on the edge of the bed and burying his head in his hand. He had hours of work ahead of him, yet her face continued to intrude into his thoughts, and he realized that a small part of him didn't want to dismiss the thoughts of her. Some part of him found solace in the torment it brought.

She was destroying him, the strongest.

He covered his mouth with his hand, realizing he was losing his sanity. Shaking his head, he collapsed onto the bed, placed a hand over his forehead, and then dragged it down his face in frustration. If only his stupid brain hadn't betrayed him, he would never have abandoned her at the wedding. Because, since that day, every decision he made seemed to be a regrettable mistake.

He turned his head and looked at the sheets.

He turned his gaze towards the sheets. She slept here, he thought. She had shared his bed, waking up beside him. In this bed, she had smiled, dreamed, moaned, laughed, and cried—all next to him. But now, her warmth was a distant memory. She had been here, and he had allowed her to slip away.

He had lost her.

What could he do now?

She despised him.

She despised him, and the chance of ever seeing her again was uncertain. It was entirely his fault. When he had acted foolishly, he should have anticipated the consequences.

These dreams and memories might be all he had remaining of her.

His hand lingered over the sheets, attempting to conjure her presence beside him, even if only in his imagination, even if only for a fleeting moment within the confines of his mind.

The prospect of a negative outcome filled him with terror. What if he never had the chance to see her again? The thought weighed heavily on his mind, causing him to grip the sheets tightly, and in frustration, he forcefully slammed his fist against the bed.

It's funny how quickly he grew accustomed to her presence in this place. It brought him an odd sense of comfort, knowing they would share the same roof and sleep in the same bed.

Her presence in the school changed everything for him. The months she spent here marked the first time in years that he truly savored living in these dorms since his teenage days. He looked forward to her smiles, tantrums, and even absurd arguments.

Now, Satoru longed for her to be here, to shout at him. He would have congratulated her if she had ever slapped him across the face.

But she never did. She packed her anger and disappointment and left.

Oh, God! He wished he could sink into the ground. The proof of her presence was so vivid and real that it made it unbearable for him to remain in this place. He couldn't seek refuge in missions, as he was obligated to stay in the school for the investigation regarding Y/N's flee.

Higher-ups didn't know he was the one who planned her escape. Even if they knew, that wouldn't change anything in his end. He had no reprieve from the consequences of his actions.

After all, he was consumed by a profound sense of hopelessness.

The clock had ticked past five in the morning, and it felt like he hadn't slept in days. However, he could scarcely bear to shut his eyes. He couldn't bear the solitude with his thoughts or confront the vulnerabilities within himself. He felt broken, held together solely by obligation. He had unsuccessfully attempted to express the jumble of emotions clouding his mind, but to whom? Who would comprehend him? Who would believe that what he was experiencing surpassed a mere binding vow?

Kento Nanami and Shoko Ieiri? Not quite. Their relationship never quite clicked for them. They couldn't comprehend how someone like Satoru, with his diverse preferences in partners, could be an emotional match for anyone, especially someone like Y/N: a girl who ate, slept, and breathed emotion. They always believed that Y/N gave him too much credit and that she tolerated too much of his nonsense.

They were correct in their assessment, but her appearance or the sense of being desired didn't make him fall in love with her. It was the trust they shared and the comforting sensation of finding a home. He had never experienced it before, as he had always felt alone. When he was held in her embrace, he felt warmth for the first time. Y/N was his home.

Indeed, Satoru was engulfed in his misery, isolated and without companionship.

His loneliness was a vicious creature. It sneaked up on him silently, sitting by his side in the darkness, gently caressing his hair as he stared off. It wrapped around his very bones, constricting so tightly that he struggled to catch his breath. It planted falsehoods in his heart, lying beside him at night, draining the light from every corner. Loneliness became a constant companion without her, holding his hand only to pull him down when he tried to rise.

Even when he was prepared to let it go, break free, and start anew, loneliness remained an old acquaintance standing beside him in the mirror, challenging him to try and live without it. He couldn't find the words to resist himself, to battle against the inner voices screaming for her return—wanting her back, wanting her back, wanting her back, and knowing deep down it wasn't possible.

Loneliness was a bitter, wrenching companion.

"Is this what you felt all along, Y/N?" he whispered into the empty room. He tried to convince himself that it was merely a meaningless dream, but he was deceiving himself. The truth was, witnessing her sadness carved into his unconsciousness became too overwhelming, and the thought of her suffering inflicted unbearable agony upon him. Knowing that she had endured all these pains.

He had thrown her into this situation, causing her to be discarded and harmed. Guilt drowned him, immersing him in a world where he unexpectedly delved into feeling her pain so deeply.

It was killing him.

He stood up and began pacing back and forth in his bedroom until he mustered the courage to keep his shits together.

The room carried the fragrance of morning rain, saturated with traces of her presence. The air was dim and infused with an earthy scent. He inhaled deeply and approached the window, pressing his fingers against the chilly glass. His breath began to fog up. He closed his eyes, listening to the gentle patter of rain rushing in the wind. Right now, raindrops served as a reminder that clouds possessed a pulse, as did he.

When he was a child—of course, with no friend— he often pondered the nature of raindrops. He marveled at how they descended, stumbling over their feet, breaking their legs, and forsaking their parachutes as they trembled from the sky toward an uncertain fate. It seemed someone was emptying their pockets over the Earth, indifferent to where the contents would land. They didn't seem to mind that the raindrops would burst upon hitting the ground, or that they would shatter upon reaching the floor, or that people would resent the days when the drops dared to tap on their doors.

Now that he thought, he realized that Y/N was like a raindrop. Despite enduring hit after hit, bruise after bruise, tear after tear, she persevered and moved forward, facing her fears. Yet, when their paths intersected, he emptied himself of her presence and left her to evaporate, utterly alone.

How could he be such a monstrous person?

He pressed his forehead against the glass pane, feeling the familiar embrace of the cold against his skin. He couldn't continue living in constant pain every minute of the day, as it was unsustainable. On the other hand, if the pain ceased, she would be gone, and he couldn't bear that either.

He took a sharp breath to clear his mind, clenching and unclenching his fist, when his attention was drawn to the scar on his palm. It served as a poignant reminder. He was about to trace his fingers along its jagged edges when a knock sounded at the door.

Knock, knock, knock! The door swung open, revealing Satoru with a mischievous twinkle in his eye and a sly grin on his face. "Hey, Granny! Got any spare ice for your lovely neighbor?" he asked, leaning casually against the door frame and peering at her through his shades.

"No," Y/N replied curtly, her annoyance evident as she tried to close the door. But Satoru held it firmly, her surprised gaze bouncing between his hand and his oddly pleased expression. What kind of power play was this that the infamous Satoru Gojo had initiated? She kept her distance, ready with a hidden knife up her sleeve, just in case.

"Don't you want to know why I need the ice?" Satoru inquired, his gaze fixed on where her hand and knife were concealed behind the door.

"No," she replied tersely.

"It's for my Scotch!" Satoru exclaimed, throwing his arms up in mock excitement.

"You don't drink," she retorted, her grip on the door tightening, fully aware that this flimsy door wouldn't stand a chance if Satoru had any intentions.

"Awww," Satoru pouted, winking at her over his glasses. "You sure know a lot about me." His grin widened. "But did you know that my six eyes can see your little knife?" He pointed directly at the spot where she had hidden her blade.

She took a deep breath, lips pressed together tightly. "Good night!" she declared, slamming the door in his face with frustration and determination.

Knock, knock, knock! The door creaked open, revealing Satoru. Again. "Hello, my favorite coffin dodger! I'm in desperate need of bobby pins!"

With an exasperated sigh, she leaned her head against the door frame, rolling her eyes. "Do I even want to know why?"

Satoru's smile grew wider as if this was all part of his grand plan. He pointed at the stray hairs falling over his forehead. "Ever since you ripped off my blindfold, these stubborn hairs keep getting stuck in my night cream!" To emphasize the point, he raised an eyebrow and shook his head, demonstrating that his hair was not moving an inch.

Her eyes remained fixed on his forehead, surprise evident in her gaze. "You use facial creams?"

Satoru struggled to contain his laughter. Despite her reputation as a skilled murderer, her emotions were easy to read, which amused him greatly. "You don't?" He covered his mouth with his hand as if sharing scandalous news. "No wonder you look like grandmothers!"

Her eyes quickly snapped back to his face, her furrowed brows and deathly glares revealing her annoyance and anger. It must have been a mistake. How could someone like her, infamous for being a monster, have such a vulnerable side? Was she the same angel of death he had encountered years ago on his deathbed, or had he completely misjudged her all this time? Damn it, ever since she touched him, his instincts couldn't be trusted. There was an enigmatic pull towards her that he couldn't quite pinpoint.

Lost in his thoughts, he heard her sharp retort, "Go to hell, you asshole!" followed by the slamming of the door.

Knock, knock, knock. The door reluctantly opened, revealing a woman irritated by the late hour. "For God's sake, it's 3 in the morning—" Her eyes widened in disbelief at the absurd sight before her. "What the fuck?!"

Satoru had his t-shirt folded up to his stomach, using it like a kangaroo pouch to carry random stuff. What a clown! But despite her best efforts, her eyes couldn't resist sneaking glances at his abs and the fine white hairs under his navel. Is that his happy trail?

Y/N never had time for these kinds of games in her straightforward life. Maybe that's why she always fell into the white fox's trap, or perhaps she was just a bunny who enjoyed being hunted by this hunter who found any excuse to occasionally knock on her door and play with his prey. But no matter what, he always managed to surprise her.

"Hey! Pervert!" he exclaimed, waving his hand. "My face is up here!"

Her eyes slowly and somewhat reluctantly made their way back up, her blush becoming more pronounced with every passing second. And boy, if it were any other time, he would have grinned with victory at this triumph. But for now, he kept a neutral expression. "I need you to hide these sweets!"

She bit her lower lip as he casually took her hands and pulled her in closer, way too close for comfort. He emptied all the chocolates from his t-shirt into her hands, her fingers brushing against his chiseled body for a fleeting moment, sending a warmth surging through her that felt completely foreign. She lowered her head, desperately wishing her hair would cover her face and hide her embarrassment. What the fuck was wrong with her?

But of course, Satoru didn't stop there. He then took her shoulders and guided her back to her room, leaving her completely dazed. "If I knock on your door in an hour asking for sweets, don't open it for me. Got it?"

Was he going to show up again in an hour? This was too much to handle; she knew it. But her brain was short-circuiting, so she simply nodded, still keeping her head down.

"Don't trust me, even if I try to trick you," he warned, gently brushing her hair away from her face and locking his gaze with hers. "Okay, Y/N?"

She gulped, not daring to question her own sanity or the bizarre nature of this encounter. "Okay," she managed to utter.

Satoru grinned in satisfaction, stepped back, and closed the door with a smile, leaving her standing in the middle of the room, utterly confused, with a bunch of chocolates in her hands.

Knock, knock, knock. He anxiously watched as the door swung open, revealing the hallway's darkness. " Do you like Kento?" The words slipped out of his mouth quicker than he intended. Desperate for her answer, he gripped the door frame.

"What?" She stood before him, dressed in red, aware that she was merely a plaything to entertain his boredom, but he was someone she desired more than anything in her life.

"Are you in love with Kento? Just tell me. Yes or no, Y/N?"

The urgency in Satoru's voice and the concern in his eyes made her lift her head and meet his gaze. What kind of game was he playing this time? Regardless, she was too weary to care anymore. "No," she whispered, looking away.

His wishes came true for once, and he got what he had longed for. He promised himself he wouldn't mess it up this time. He vowed to do whatever it took to protect this treasure. He took a step into the room, and Y/N instinctively stepped back, her last attempt to escape the fate that would shadow her life.

Counting down from ten...nine...eight...seven...six...five...four...three...two...and one. Her back met the wall, and Satoru's lips found hers. There was no liberation in this love, so she closed her eyes and surrendered. His kiss deepened, and he promised her everything, everything she desired, as men in love often do. And despite herself, she trusted him, as women in love often do.

Knock, knock, knock. Satoru opened the door to find Y/N standing there, wearing a partially wet top and a sweatshirt that couldn't conceal her sweat. He wondered why she had come to his doorstep in such a rush. Despite the surprise, he didn't mind at all and actually enjoyed the sight of her. Observing her during her preparations, training, stretches, and even afterward became his new favorite meal of his six eyes.

With one hand on her side, she gestured towards the likely location of the training grounds. "I just saw Panda tossing Nobara around! Why aren't you supervising? What kind of sensei are you?"

Satoru casually shifted his gaze from her damp collarbones to her face. His half-opened eyes had a certain quality that his faint smile couldn't conceal. "What kind of sensei do you want me to be?" he asked, his voice husky as if he had just woken up. He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the door frame, shamelessly letting his eyes wander over her parted lips.

"I don't know!" She shrugged. "How about a responsible one?" she suggested, hoping he would take action and head to the training grounds upon hearing the news. However, he had no intention of doing so.

"Perhaps you could teach me," he proposed, his hand reaching for the hem of her waist, gently toying with the edge of her top. "During a private session," he added, his gaze locked onto hers.

"What the heck?" were the only words that came to her mind as he didn't wait for her response. He swiftly pulled her into the room and closed the door with a smooth kick. Her mind was filled with disbelief as Satoru stepped forward, cornering her. Their chests rose and fell with each deep breath as if they had just run for miles. There was a lingering desire in the air, an unspoken plea for vulnerability. Despite the years she had spent learning to defend herself, in that moment, she realized she wanted to be defenseless in front of him. There was an undeniable trust, a growing soft spot within her, certain that he would never harm her and she would be safe in his arms. He was the missing piece she had been searching for in her life.

She felt his warm delight as he called out her name. The tenderness in his voice returned, a tone he reserved for their private moments. He drew her closer, his hands enveloping her as if afraid she might vanish if he let go.

She softly whispered "Satoru" into the crook of his neck, and she could feel his hand sliding down her waist. He was her home, so she let him surround her.

He closed his eyes and breathed in her scent. "You don't know what you do to me," he murmured, his voice gentle, smooth, and unhurried. She had never realized until now just how enticing his voice was.

His hand tenderly held hers as he leaned in, brushing his nose against the nape of her neck, causing her to stifle a moan. No one had ever touched her with such delicacy, treating her like a fragile cherry blossom. His lips lightly grazed her skin, and she couldn't help but whimper.

He smiled. He was the reason for her racing heartbeat. He was responsible for those tears of happiness she tried to hide. He was enough for her, just as he was, without needing any proof or change to keep her by his side. As his hands explored her body, feeling and memorizing every curve, he kissed the top of her shoulder blade, gently tracing over her scars.

She rested her hands on his chest, causing him to open his eyes. Gently, he lifted her chin slightly. "I'll be a good sensei," he whispered. "I'll be good to you," he murmured, stroking her cheek and gently kissing her forehead. "I'll be good to anyone you wish."

She stared into his eyes, which seemed to hold a vast heart like the oceans and skies. Rising on her toes, she kissed him with hunger, desperation, and a longing to explore and savor him. He tasted like cotton candy with a hint of vanilla in his scent. Within moments, Satoru responded with an intense kiss, his hands encircling her neck while she attempted to remove his oversized T-shirt with her fingers.

They moved with a sense of urgency, driven by their desires. Satoru firmly grasped her hips, his hands exploring her body. His arms enveloped her with strength while his lips remained gentle. Her head spun with longing. His lips found their way to her neck, savoring her essence, consuming her completely.

She grabbed the waistband of his pants, not realizing how much it would excite him. In response, he lifted her by the waist, pressing her against the wall. His hands held her firmly, supporting her backside, causing her to wrap her legs around him instinctively.

As she tightly gripped his hair, their lips met again, intensifying the connection. His hands slid under her top, and both of them were breathing heavily. The tension grew as his pants tightened around his arousal while she clung to his T-shirt, driven by desperation.

"I'm telling you, I saw Y/N heading to her room. Why isn't she responding?" Yuji's voice echoed.

"Maybe she's taking a shower. It's a normal thing to do after training, you know," Nobara replied, her tone filled with righteousness.

"Maybe Gojo sensei knows where she is!"

"Can't we just leave everyone in this dorm wing alone?" Megumi suggested, feeling trapped.

Satoru let out a heavy breath, closed his eyes, and loosened his hold, allowing Y/N's feet to touch the floor, yet he didn't release her completely. She gently held his face in her hands and softly kissed the tip of his nose. "They'll go away if we stay quiet," he whispered, brushing his cheek against her damp, sweaty hair.

"They won't, and you know it," she whispered, leaning against his chest. She could feel the rhythm of his heartbeats, as well as the bulge pressed against her belly, causing her to blush and hide her face in his embrace.

"How about tonight, after 10?" she proposed, running her fingers through his hair, futilely attempting to neaten the tousled strands.

He drew back, his eyes widening as he gazed at her. "Tonight, after 10," he whispered, a wide grin spreading. He lightly brushed his thumb against her lower lip, only to be surprised when she kissed his palm and smiled as if this was a usual occurrence between two people who shared physical attraction. But there was something more, wasn't there? The soft pink hue on her cheeks and the way she smiled stirred something within him. What was this feeling that enveloped him whenever she was near?

Rubbing the back of his head, he walked back and cleared his throat, observing Y/N hastily fixing her hair, trying to conceal any signs of mischief like a naughty child.

"It's moments like these that make me question my morals. Can't we all peacefully share Y/N?" he declared, opening the door to his room.

A gentle nudge on Satoru's arm and Y/N appeared before the door. "What do you all need?"

Nobara and Yuji immediately started discussing urgent matters with Y/N, seemingly oblivious to the time constraints. Meanwhile, Megumi noticed how their sensei looked at her with a broad, nostalgic smile he hadn't seen in years. Oh, boy.

Knock, knock, knock. The door opened instantly. Satoru had returned from a mission. "Sorry, Y/N. I didn't mean to — "

Before he could finish his sentence, her arms tightly wrapped around his waist. She trembled with cold, her eyes red and wet from another nightmare. Without hesitation, he pulled her close, resting her head against his chest, disregarding the dirt on his uniform.

"It was just a bad dream, Y/N. Only a dream," he reassured her. Yet, her sobs persisted. Holding her hand gently, he pressed a kiss on it. "Look," he urged, encouraging her to open her tightly shut eyes. "There is no blood on your hand." He tenderly stroked her hair and kissed her temple.

She stared at her hand, almost disbelieving that the blood had vanished upon his arrival. Sniffling, she remained silent for a while.

"Are you alright, Y/N?" he asked with concern.

She raised her head from his chest and remained silent.

"What's wrong?" He gently wiped away her tears with his thumb. He was the strongest, yet something about this formidable woman brought out his weaknesses.

"Oh, nothing," she replied, a faint smile appearing on her lips as she lowered her head.

"What's amusing?" He grasped her chin and lifted it. Her eyes were still red, but the sadness seemed to have dissipated. Nevertheless, being with her made him feel complete, and for the first time in a long while, he experienced genuine happiness. Was he falling in love with her?

"It's just..." Her words snapped him back to reality. "...this is the first time someone has asked me that," she paused. "It caught me off guard." Balancing on her tiptoes, she hugged him, humming softly. "Yeah, I think I'll be okay. Thank you for asking," she whispered, closing her eyes.

"Y/N." His arms tightened around her, assuring her he would never let go. He would hold her like this indefinitely if it would mend her broken pieces. Because she was the missing piece he had longed for in his life: she and her pure heart.

Knock, knock, knock . Y/N rapped her knuckles against the wooden door. Knock, knock, knock. Silence greeted her. Trying again, she hit once more. Still no response. Her hand dropped to her side in the dimly lit hallway as Y/N leaned her forehead against the door. She had just arrived from Okinawa and Utahime's wedding, and despite her exhaustion, frustration, and the ache in her heart, she was determined to address the unspoken issue between them. She refused to accept that Satoru could be the person her eyes had seen that day. He couldn't be because what would that leave her to believe?

Knock, knock, knock. No answer.

It appeared that he was nowhere to be found.

KNOCK, KNOCK, KNOCK, KNOCK, KNOCK, KNOCK. "Where the hell are you, Satoru?" Y/N's voice was raspy, and her arms and the side of her face bore bruises. She shouldn't have been out of bed.

Tears streamed down her cheeks as her fist continued pounding on the door while her other hand clutched her stomach. "We need you, Satoru. Where are you?" She turned and scanned her surroundings. Why had she hoped that Satoru would sense her pain and return? Collapsing onto the cold floor of the hallway, her back sliding against the door, silent tears stained her cheeks.

"Y/N? What brings you here?"

She raised her head from her knees and faced Shoko. She shrugged her shoulders. "I couldn't sleep." An obvious lie.

Shoko glanced at the door and then at her tear-streaked face, concern evident in her eyes. "Why don't you tell me exactly how you managed to defeat all those Gojo jerks?" she suggested, settling down beside her. Nights like these were better endured with a companion so the darkness wouldn't win over the dawn.

"I think he might be sleeping, or he's not in his room," Megumi's whisper came from behind the door.

Ignoring the explanation he had just heard, Yuji knocked on the door again. "He can't leave the school. Once he's cleared from the investigations, they'll assign him as Y/N's executioner again," Yuji commented without bothering to lower his voice. "And if he's sleeping, well, he's a teacher. How about being responsible for once?"

"What if he's also feeling sad? I mean, I know she was a part of your family, but I believe she was his family too," Megumi whispered, the words not concealed behind the door and reaching Satoru's ears.

"What?" Yuji exclaimed. "Are you saying he's miserable? Did someone inform you about something?"

Megumi began mumbling once more. "Didn't you want to witness him in pain? I thought that was the entire purpose of us being here."

Yuji let out a sigh. "That doesn't mean I want to see him messed up. I'm still angry at him, but I must talk to him!"

"You know Y/N didn't leave because of him, right?"

"I know," Yuji replied. He fell silent for a moment before speaking again. "But I haven't forgotten his significant role. If he hadn't broken her heart—"

"He did what he did to protect her. It wasn't healthy for her to be around him, Yuji."

"Fine," Yuji scoffed. "Stop defending your stepfather!"

"Ugh, Yuji. You need to—"

Megumi's sentence was abruptly cut off by the sudden swing of the door, revealing their sensei standing in the doorway with messy hair. The sight of their sensei caught them off guard, but it was Satoru who seemed particularly affected. He instinctively lowered his head, his hand reaching for his sunglasses in an attempt to hide his red-rimmed eyes behind the dark lenses. Although he tried to conceal it, Satoru couldn't shake off the feeling that Yuji had caught a glimpse of the dark circles beneath his eyes. This suspicion was confirmed by the noticeable softening of Yuji's previously furrowed expression as if he understood the silent struggles Satoru was going through.

Satoru abandoned the effort it took to punish himself. Maybe he deserved to have a companion in these hard days. Talking to a real human being might make things a little easier. He practiced using his voice, shaping his lips around the familiar words unfamiliar to his mouth.

Satoru, amidst his inner turmoil, finally reached a point of surrender. The weight of self-punishment became too heavy, and he realized he deserved to have someone by his side, especially during these challenging times. The notion of connecting with another person and engaging in a conversation started to stir within him as a glimmer of relief.

Pretending not to hear Yuji and Megumi's earlier talks, Satoru spoke, "How can I help you, kids?" However, his voice felt strange, unrecognizable even to himself. The usual playfulness and goofiness that accompanied his conversations with students were absent.

Megumi's gaze shifted between the two of them.

"I have a favor to ask of you," Yuji said, deliberately avoiding making direct eye contact with his sensei.

Satoru fully opened the door and stepped aside. "Then come on in," he invited Yuji, his tone welcoming. He then turned to Megumi with a grateful smile. Megumi's defense of him in front of Yuji held great significance. "And what about you, Megumi? Care to join us inside?"

The boy with black hair scratched the back of his neck. "No, thanks. I have to join Maki," he replied. "She's waiting for me at the training grounds," he added, glancing at Yuji one last time and nodding before turning away and walking off.

As Satoru gently closed the door behind him, his gaze fell upon Yuji, who was already seated at the table and waiting quietly. He understood that this discussion would be far from easy, as it required delving into painful truths and facing the consequences of his actions.

Satoru had to face the fact that, in a way, he was responsible for his brothers' deaths, too. It was a bitter pill to swallow, acknowledging his role in their tragic fate. Yet, amidst the confusion and lingering questions, he found himself grappling with the perplexing connection between Y/N and Yuji. The circumstances surrounding their relationship remained shrouded in uncertainty, leaving Satoru with a sense of unease.

Summoning a deep breath, Satoru released a heartfelt sigh. Bracing himself, he approached Yuji, the atmosphere between them charged with unspoken emotions. He pulled out another chair, sat down, and positioned himself before Yuji, prepared to navigate the difficult interaction ahead.

Yuji's gaze remained fixed on the table as he abruptly began speaking. "I need you to locate her and assist her in finding our brother before the higher-ups intervene."

Well, Yuji was straightforward so that Satoru could respond with the same honesty. "I can't," Satoru said, running his hand over his face and pausing it at his mouth.

"What do you mean you can't? You must! You always said you did everything for her well-being, and now you're saying you can't? Is it because of the assignment the higher-ups will give you? You're Satoru Gojo. You can do whatever you please! You never conform to the rules!"

"Yuji," Satoru called out, and finally, Yuji looked at him. The white-haired man's smile was tinged with bitterness. "There are things even I cannot do," he said, glancing at the hair tie on the table. It belonged to Y/N. He reached out and pulled it around his wrist. "Y/N is skilled at hiding. You won't find her unless she chooses to be found."

"Why did you allow her to leave?" Yuji's anger flared.

"Don't ask about things you already know the answer to," Satoru replied, leaning back in his chair. "Staying here would have cost her life. She's better off without me and the Jujutsu Society."

With a trembling voice, Yuji accused, "You destroyed her life." Satoru didn't need to look at the pink-haired boy's face to understand that tears were streaming down it, but he maintained his composure and remained silent, allowing Yuji to express whatever was weighing on his heart. "You weren't there when she needed you. You weren't there when your own family tried to harm her and her child. You weren't there when that powerful curse emerged during the Exchange Event. You only show up now to find an excuse to kill our brothers because that's who you are. I don't even know what I expected from a man who murdered his friend in the name of following orders."

Upon hearing the final sentence, Satoru jerked his head and met Yuji's piercing gaze. Every word Yuji spoke was undeniably true, and that truth cut deep. Satoru couldn't argue against it. The pain he felt was a deserved consequence. Yuji had every right to harbor such intense hatred toward him. After all, what kind of father fails to protect his daughter and her mother? What kind of man disappoints the love of his life and, as a supposed apology, ends the lives of her brothers?

Yet, just because something is true doesn't mean he was prepared to hear it.

He was unaware of the true magnificence of the world, but when Y/N entered his life, she shattered his perception. She revealed the hidden beauty in everything, and now that she was gone, all the beauty in the world seemed to vanish along with her. He had also lost her, which caused him pain, even though he knew he was the primary cause of it all.

The truth broke him.

His voice faltered. His back bowed. His knees weakened. His face crumbled.

He gripped the table's edge tightly to prevent himself from collapsing out of the chair.

"Did you love her?" Yuji asked, breaking the silence. His face was averted as he gazed at the rain through the window.

"I wanted to marry her."

"What?" Yuji turned his head, his eyes widening as he looked at his sensei.

"I have numerous enemies, and I knew they would never let my family be safe. However, while she was building sandcastles with a child in Okinawa, a moment of fear struck me. At that instant, I realized that I wanted it. I wanted to spend the rest of my life with her. I wanted to create a future together. I wanted to grow old with her. I wanted to marry her."

"Did you get her a ring?"

"No."

"What? What do you mean, no?" Yuji paused. "Did you at least do something, like light a candle or make her dinner?"

"No."

"Buy her chocolates? Get down on one knee?"

"No."

"No? You didn't do any of those things? None of them?" His whispers escalated into whispered yells. "You're the absolute worst, you know? The worst. You don't deserve her."

Satoru sighed. "I thought that was already clear."

"Damn." Yuji slammed his hand down. "You two were engaged, and none of us had a clue?"

Satoru's gaze was fixed on the floor, his thumb caressing the hair tie. He appeared composed, but when he whispered, "No," the sadness in his voice cut through Yuji's heart like a knife.

"You never proposed to her, did you?"

Satoru glanced at Yuji's face and shook his head. "No, I never did."

"Good," Yuji replied, tightening his fists. "She didn't need another heartbreak. I know how much she desired a family."

Satoru nodded, unable to find the right words to say. The sound of raindrops tapping against the window filled the room.

After a while, Yuji broke the silence. "You won't kill her when you see her, right?"

"You think I don't love her, right? You think it was easy for me to watch her leave. You think it wasn't painful to see her run away from me? Well, maybe you never truly understood who I am," Satoru retorted. "Because if you did, none of these thoughts would even cross your mind. I understand that labeling me as the devil makes it easier for you to accept her absence, to move forward, to cope. But if you truly knew me, you would understand that since she left, my love for her hasn't wavered, not for a single moment. So, no. Not only will I not kill her, but I will also stand up against anyone who wishes to harm her."

Have you thought about glue?

No one bothers to ask about how the glue is doing, whether it's tired of bonding things, concerned about coming undone, or even wondering how it's managed to survive through the weeks.

Satoru was somewhat similar.

He was like glue. He did his utmost to hold things together and safeguard those he could, yet nobody stopped thinking how he was faring.

Now that Yuji was paying attention, he likely noticed the fatigue in Satoru's eyes, the burden weighing on his forehead, and the tension in his shoulders. Perhaps it was time for Yuji to contemplate what Satoru was experiencing, what he wasn't revealing. Because, just maybe, throughout all these days, nobody had asked about how he was holding up. Because nobody ever anticipated the strongest person to be anything but fine.

Yuji gently pulled on Satoru's shoulder. "Megumi was right. You're not okay, are you?" Yuji whispered.

Satoru's eyes softened instantly, displaying weariness and faint amusement. It took him a moment to realize he hadn't answered the question. Only when he looked away did he eventually nod and say, "I'm okay."

"Are you sure?"

"It's okay, Yuji. I'm not feeling sad. I should have expected this from the start. It seems that anything I don't want to lose always ends up slipping away. That's just how things have always been for me. The moment I obtain something worth wanting, it becomes lost."

Yuji started playing with his fingers. "I'm still angry, but I understand you made her happy like no one else ever did. So, I want to believe that you'll find a way to be together in the end. I know a bit about her binding vow to you, but deep down, I don't think it all happened solely because of that. Hence, get a ring and be prepared for the next time you see her," Yuji said, offering a smile for the first time in months.

Satoru's eyes briefly showed surprise before he averted his gaze, running a hand along his neck to soothe the tense muscle. After a moment, he shifted his focus to the window. "The weather sucks," he remarked.

Yuji understood it as a code for "Thank you."

"Yeah," Yuji replied. "Does it always rain on your birthdays, Sensei?"

Tag list: @hecateria @whattowritewhattonot @@readxeer00 @sunamew @yoongi-holland @sanokana @soft--grunge--burrito @move-in-mysterious-ways @tanu003097 @spookytreeeagle @wonderlandjthedaydreamer @littlecarrot06 @kurooyy @angeliccutie007 @misaki17 @yungliddysyx @nanamiswh0r3 @smokeyfuzz @sumii @zukisbabe @geidly @evalynanne @antheialy

56 notes · View notes