#you incorporated all the pictures

[umblrspectrum]

do you ever like wanna make something cool but you dont know how so you just sit around like a moron for 5 hours straight pretending you know how

me neither

on a more serious note i know ad astra as a whole isnt over but i still want to thank daybreaker for their fics. what friends are for was the very first md fic i ever stumbled upon when trying out ao3 for the first time, and prior to joining the server i was checking it near daily for uploads. god knows if i'd be as deep in ao3 as i am now if it werent for this story and convenient timing. Thanks for the story.

[iizuumi]

Side effects of wearing your Kaiju suit too often ,,,, Part 2

[recurring-polynya]

I realize that the audience for this post is essentially no one, but I'm really upset about how the gnarly, unicycle-riding spokesghoul for the Barbarois in Vampire Hunter D: Bloodlust appears to be just a more withered version of the Dungeon Master from the early 1980s Dungeons and Dragons cartoon.

[alphashley14]

THERE’S AN SDMI LOUNGEFLY BACKPACK!!!! 📣🤩

AND THERE’S ALSO A MATCHING WALLETTTTT!!!!! 📣🤯

I AM SCREAMING!!!! This is SO near the top of my Christmas List!!! 😍

[yeleltaan]

Here we are– you are the first of the 4 in which I completed. MSpaint spooky/thoughtful Cayin doodle. It was fun deciding on what to do. Hope you enjoy, Croc. Hope you don’t mind that I was feeling BB Cayin <3

// AAAAAAAAAAAHHH this is so lovely!! You nail his style perfectly, this came out so cool. Thank you Cat!!

[gloucesterroad]

I love the we three kings hymn because we don’t often get to sing hymns in first person from the perspective of particular biblical characters

[celestial-toys]

been laying here listening to Lucky by Dermot Kennedy on loop for half an hour while thinking about Everything Stays and crying

[relicsongmel]

9 year-old Melanie 🤝 24 year-old Melanie

Being Mentally Unwell about the Mamma Mia soundtrack

[frightmeister]

td

v : until dawn / pregame / washington rising. v : until dawn / ingame / i know what you did last winter. v : until dawn / postgame / washington 3: dream warriors. v : until dawn / dark au / the house that josh built.

v : au / remedyverse / star patient at the ocean view hospital. v : au / john wick / washington pictures incorporated. v : fandomless / f. v : tbd / yeah i dunno either buddy. v : au / dead by daylight / puppet on a string. v : au / iwtv / joshua b demented.

ship: w / y.

p / w / t.

[writerthreads]

How to avoid White Room Syndrome

by Writerthreads on Instagram

A common problem writers face is "white room syndrome"—when scenes feel like they’re happening in an empty white room. To avoid this, it's important to describe settings in a way that makes them feel real and alive, without overloading readers with too much detail. Here are a few tips below to help!

Focus on a few key details

You don’t need to describe everything in the scene—just pick a couple of specific, memorable details to bring the setting to life. Maybe it’s the creaky floorboards in an old house, the musty smell of a forgotten attic, or the soft hum of a refrigerator in a small kitchen. These little details help anchor the scene and give readers something to picture, without dragging the action with heaps of descriptions.

Engage the senses

Instead of just focusing on what characters can see, try to incorporate all five senses—what do they hear, smell, feel, or even taste? Describe the smell of fresh bread from a nearby bakery, or the damp chill of a foggy morning. This adds a lot of depth and make the location feel more real and imaginable.

Mix descriptions with actions

Have characters interact with the environment. How do your characters move through the space? Are they brushing their hands over a dusty bookshelf, shuffling through fallen leaves, or squeezing through a crowded subway car? Instead of dumping a paragraph of description, mix it in with the action or dialogue.

Use the setting to reflect a mood or theme

Sometimes, the setting can do more than just provide a backdrop—it can reinforce the mood of a scene or even reflect a theme in the story. A stormy night might enhance tension, while a warm, sunny day might highlight a moment of peace. The environment can add an extra layer to what’s happening symbolically.

Here's an example of writing a description that hopefully feels alive and realistic, without dragging the action:

The bookstore was tucked between two brick buildings, its faded sign creaking with every gust of wind. Inside, the air was thick with the scent of worn paper and dust, mingling with the faint aroma of freshly brewed coffee from a corner café down the street. The wooden floorboards groaned as Ella wandered between the shelves, her fingertips brushing the spines of forgotten novels. Somewhere in the back, the soft sound of jazz crackled from an ancient radio.

Hope these tips help in your writing!

[somewhereincairparavel]

percy had an 'im a big three son' moment when he choked a goddess with her own saliva (controlling a fluid that was INSIDE her body) annabeth was terrified.

nico had an 'im a big three son' moment when he disembodied bryce lawrence (quite literally dissipating and shrinking his LIVING soul into a spirit) and threw him to the underworld, smashing his zombie warriors. reyna was terrified.

yet we were robbed of jason's 'im a big three son' moment where he sucks the air out of someone's lungs and makes them stop breathing, or damaging a person's nervous system with his lightning control, and literally cause internal bleeding, or a damaged/fried skull if he electrocuted hard enough (look up the effects of lightning damage on body y'all will get a whole list, tbh he doesn't even need lightning to do any of this, air control is more than enough since air takes charge of everything going inside the body, but this is just an added effect.) he could give people STROKES if he wanted to. he's the literal definition of burnt out kid who was suppressed from discovering the magnitude of his abilities, because one, his dad's ego wouldn't be able to handle it, two, because he, for some reason, can't be allowed to do anything other than get knocked out :/

also adding on, hardcore pjo fans know that after the ending page of boo, there's this fan story that rick chose to publish in the last few pages of the book where a fan reimagines the ending of hoo, in that work, annabeth collapses from an attack and percy sobs clutching her body. jason calmly asks him to step aside, and kneels before annabeth, jason regulates her breathing using his wind/lightning powers and brings annabeth back fully from her cardiac arrest, causing percy to be relieved. (I wanted to link the pics of the pages here so bad but I didn't have the hard copy of the book with me, and this isn't available anywhere online either, only in the original covers of boo uk and us version, so I edited this post and asked people to reblog this post w the pics if they have the hardcopy, and a kind blogger found the story I'm talking about and reblogged the pictures of the pages, you can check my reblogs of this post for the pictures of the almost all the pages after this scene) considering rick approved and even liked the fan's work well enough to publish it in the official boo book, I'd say rick was aware and never completely ruled out expanding jason's abilities and had them in mind, he simply didn't incorporate it into the books. (also W fan for giving jason the rep he deserves, I will always remember you, you saw the VISION before any of us did, the story was very well written, with great dialogue.)

[obsessivevoidkitten]

Practical Demonstration

Kinktober Day 3: Exhibitionism Yandere Male Alpha Professor x Gender Neutral Omega Teacher Assistant CW: Noncon, public sex, exhibitionism, abuse of authority, knotting, musk, scent kink, biting, claiming bites, pheromones, overstimulation, a/b/o dynamics, slick, suppressants, manipulation, praise kink, general yandere behavior Word Count: 1.6k (Okay guys, hope you enjoy this given how long you have waited for it! PLEASE comment, comments feed me <3)

You were the teacher's assistant for the renowned and well-regarded Professor Reid Sullivan. He had degrees involving anatomy and physiology as well as the psychology of alphas and omegas, and the college he taught at was prestigious.

Professor Sullivan was a bit of a prodigy, already being a highly respected academic despite only being in his early-thirties. His unkempt shaggy hair, dark circles around his eyes, and slight stubble made him appear older. His classes were popular, though he refused to teach large crowds. They reduced his efficacy. At most, he would teach 24 students at a time. This class, though, was limited to 20.

This meant students were always clamoring to sign up before all the slots were filled. Not only were people eager to watch him teach because he was so accomplished and good at educating but also because he was considered rather attractive by many students.

It didn't help that he was also an alpha, and despite his tired nerdy demeanor, he was actually quite fit.

But the main reason his classes were so popular was that he often incorporated live demonstrations into his lessons. In the past, he had omegas demonstrate heat and alphas show off knots while he pointed to and described the anatomy and the purpose for it. He even had an alpha and omega pair demonstrate mating on more than one occasion.

Working under him wasn't bad at all. You were an omega, so you were naturally pretty nervous at first. Working with an alpha superior could sometimes be rather hard. Even in this progressive age, there was still a degree of discrimination and power abuse.

Professor Sullivan was exceedingly kind to you. He even got you coffee and something to eat every morning, even though that would typically be a task more suited to you. He also let you sit in his large cushy chair and was quick to let you use his jacket as you rarely used one, and his classroom tended to be cold.

He was very patient and understanding, guiding you through lessons and helping you learn how to handle a class.

Then, on the day of the final lecture, his true colors were revealed.

He locked the door and then stood in front of it. He put on the display screen a presentation about seducing and breeding an omega.

"Omegas are instinctively attracted to mates that provide them with food. It doesn't have to be major, but a daily coffee and small bit of food will make them naturally more receptive to you..."

The lecture went into greater detail on the subject, also explaining how he microdosed the coffee to make suppressants less effective, but you weren't paying much attention. You were too busy staring at the screen that had pictures of you happily sipping coffee or nibbling on muffins or bagels. It was all so surreal.

"For a shy omega, you can't simply bombard them with your scent. It could scare them away or turn them off completely from your continued advances. Instead, get them acclimated to it..."

The screen now showed how he slightly scented his chair and jacket and gradually scented it more juxtaposed with images of you grading papers while wearing the jacket and sitting in his chair.

You were mortified. Professor Sullivan was a monster! You tried to push past him and get to the door. It almost worked as he was taken aback by your determination to escape, but the extra few seconds that you spent fiddling with the lock were all he needed to wrap his arms around you from behind.

"If your omega acts fearful before mating then the steps we took earlier will help us now."

“G-get off!”

You thrashed and squirmed, but he licked, sucked, and nibbled at your neck until the overstimulation clouded your mind and made your resistance much more feeble. After that, he turned you towards him and, after disrobing completely, pushed your head under his arm so that you got a full dose of his pheromones.

The students gave the professor their undivided attention. One or two omega students envied your place as they stared with wide-eyed fascination at Professor Sullivan's now throbbing cock. The rest were a bit uneasy because you clearly hadn't been willing. They weren't actually too shocked, though, this type of thing wasn't exactly uncommon.

"See how limp the omega is? That's because I canceled any bothersome suppressants, made them accepting of my scent, and subconsciously had them see me as a provider."

The professor had a student roll over his chair to the center of the class before locking the wheels in place. He sat you down tenderly after taking off all your clothing and setting it aside.

"Gather around class, feel free to masturbate as long as you pay attention. This is especially important for you alphas."

Some of the students rubbed their crotches. The alphas encouraged the omegas since it would be helpful later to get them all hot and bothered. After the class formed a circle around the two of you, he continued.

"Now, before an alpha inserts themself into their omega, they must make sure the omega is properly slicked up. Some was produced earlier, but we will want more."

He demonstrated the proper neck stimulation techniques as well as how to slowly stretch out and prepare an omega by inserting gradually more fingers. Then he showed them how to massage an omega’s entrance with their cocks before penetration.

Before he even slipped his cock into you, you were already drooling with a dazed expression.

"Okay class, I said today would be an interactive lesson. The 10 alpha students were each delegated an omega and as part of their final grade, they were tasked with doing everything to their omega classmate that I have done to the TA. Omega students will be granted a participation grade."

The alpha half of the class began pulling the omegas close, stuffing the omegas' faces into their musky crotches or underarms.

The omegas were all bewildered. One gladly accepted their fate, a few were shocked into inaction, and most struggled. Only one managed to escape and get out the door but was chased down and brought back.

These were all students with dreams and goals, most didn't want to be an alpha's property and cumdump. At least not before they did things with their lives.

"I made sure all of your desks were sturdy enough for this, you can prop your omegas up on them if you'd like, putting your clothes on the desk and laying your omega on that will make them more comfortable, like a miniature nest with your scent."

The alphas were all stoked and barely able to hold back.

"If you have your omega in a state like our wonderful TA here is demonstrating then you may slip your cock into them, go slowly though, at least at first."

Professor Sullivan was the first to sink in, causing you to moan softly, soon the entire room was filled with the gasps and moans of a room full of omegas mingling with the grunting and heavy breathing of their alpha lovers.

The air was heavy with pheromones, musk, and the scent of slick.

Your mind wasn't really able to process what was happening around you, though. Your nose was focused on the scent of the one mating you as you instinctively wrapped your arms and legs around him.

"Oh, don't forget to praise your omegas, they may not understand your words right now, but the tone will soothe them."

He kissed you possessively.

"You're such a good mate for me. A perfect partner. So good at helping me teach this lesson. Taking my cock so well~"

He cooed into your ear lovingly as the alpha students praised and complimented their mates. Occasionally, an omega shuddered and squealed in orgasm with their alphas not too far behind.

Sullivan sped the pace up for you, and you didn't last much longer after that. You spasmed wonderfully around his dick as you came hard. Not the only time, though, as he coaxed several more climaxes from your trembling body before he finally came himself and tied you with his big knot.

"Once you've knotted your lover you should bite their neck to mark them as yours. This is essential to making your omega feel safe and loved and will make you secure in the knowledge that everyone knows who they belong to."

The professor bit your neck hard, causing you to moan more even as you flinched in pain.

"You look so beautiful with my mark."

After all the mating had finished and all the knots had deflated, the omegas were all still pretty out of it. Mating and being claimed took a lot out of them and it would probably be an hour or two before they recovered.

"Don't forget your homework! Aftercare is ESSENTIAL!!! Take your omegas to your dorms and make sure they are hydrated, well fed, and praised. If they get cranky at today's events, they probably just need another round or two of breeding."

Which, as it turns out, is exactly what he determined you needed when you wouldn't listen to reason at his home later. He tried to explain that it was all to enhance his teaching. He had been looking for the right omega to fall in love with and help with his lessons for YEARS!

And he finally found you. A TA aspiring to work in his field! You had always wanted a career in academics, and now you had one as his permanent assistant and live demonstration participant!

[hwanghyunjinenthusiast]

— 505 ⟢

i'd probably still adore you with your hands around my neck; or i did, last time i checked.

★ FEATURING; joshua x afab!reader

★ WORD COUNT; 1-2k est, no idea bc mobile

★ TAGS; coworkers au, friends with benefits, typical gentleman in the streets sexual deviant in the sheets joshua, a hint of pining if you squint, slight angst?, smut (MINORS DNI)

★ NOTES; this specific picture of shua is years old but it incited the most visceral reaction out of me anyway so here we are with another short oneshot that sidetracked me from the monster that i'm SUPPOSED to be writing :| this also turned out a bit more emotional(?) than i originally intended, so heads up on that i guess

★ SMUT TAGS; unprotected sex, shower sex, oral (f receiving), choking, slight dumbification (i'm sorry, i normally have more dignity than this but i miss him so so dearly)

★ PERMANENT TAGLIST; @cheolhub - @pretty-trustme - @just-here-to-read-01 - @idkmelkro - @dejavernon - @venusrae - @jyiiscool - @jiniesclub - @junhui-recs - @bldelaine - @featmia - @fruitzcup - @hoeforhao - @candidupped - @billboard-singer - @caratochan - @novalpha - @dahliatopia - @0717luv - @shiveringgaze - @toruro - @mixling-blog - @minnie-mouser22 - @homerunhansol - @mirtaspace - @ti-red - @zzucculent - @woozarts - @rubyreduji - @mozellerra - @lllucere - @cheolzip - @jjjzzzz - @lissiesykes - @jeonride - @meowmeowminnie - @colored-confetti - @partiallyinfluencial - @speaknowlwt - @flwrshwa - @lilylikesthat - @aurorahongg - @whippedforjihoon - @todorokiskitten - @immabecreepin

★ JOSHUA TAGLIST; @yoonzinoooo - @scandal-in-bohemia - @lunaryoongie

Joshua arrives five minutes after the first clap of thunder and ten minutes after the rain started pouring outside.

You hear him before you see him. The automatic lock of the hotel room turns as he scans the spare keycard from outside — one that you made sure to leave with the receptionist in the lobby when he told you he'll be running a little late. When the door swings open, light spills from outside and he greets you with a smile that makes his eyes crinkle and your heart stutter.

It's the same look that makes your female coworkers swoon and giggle to themselves in the office pantry — talk about Joshua's adorable eye smile never straying too far from your ears.

If they knew what kind of person he was past the usual pleasantries, would they still engage in that kind of fanfare?

Joshua is soaked all over when he enters, having tracked rainwater all over the carpeted hallway and into the floor of Room 505. He doesn't seem all too fazed by it though — quickly shrugging off his coat before hanging it behind the flimsy plastic hooks screwed to the back of the door. He shuts it behind him with a kick, sighing through his teeth as he loosens the coil of a sushi-patterned necktie around his collar.

You got that one for him as an exchange gift for last year's Christmas party. Joshua uses it a lot more frequently than you expected him to. In fact, he always wears it during casual Fridays. You're not sure if he actually likes the stupid necktie or he's just trying to get a reaction out of you, but his choice to wear it isn't lost on you either way.

"Team dinners are really something else," Joshua chuckles as he tosses the flimsy material atop the complimentary dining table. He cards his fingers through his damp hair and you try not to think of how good he looks as he does it.

"You should've come with us. It's not often that you see Manager Yoon convince Jihoon to down a shot of soju. Oh, Seungkwan also got his ass handed to him at karaoke with the girls from sales. I had no idea Jihyo could hold her high notes like she means business."

You don't take a bite at his feeble attempt at small talk. He knows damn well why you don't show up to any of Jeonghan's team dinners, but you tell yourself that Joshua's just being polite — still thinking of the outcast of the marketing department despite the fact that you do not want anything to do with the people you work with.

...Although there are some exceptions here and there.

"Really? You're just going to give me the silent treatment all night?" Joshua sighs dramatically as he unbuttons his dress shirt — baring his rain-beaded chest to your unwitting gaze. "Well, if you need a bit more time, I'll go hop in the shower first. You're free to join me if you'd like."

He knows you won't, so you find it strange that he offers each and every time anyway.

You let your gaze wander to the full length mirror attached to the cabinets once the door to the bathroom clicks shut. There's nothing remotely special about your getup tonight. You're still donned in your work clothes — brick gray pencil skirt with a brick gray blazer to match. Apart from the heels sitting on the rack near the door, you're pretty much still in uniform.

You had half the mind to go home and change when Joshua said he's going to dinner and karaoke with your boss and some other colleagues, but that would mean you actually cared about what you looked like in front of him.

Which, for the record, you don't.

You can hear Joshua singing a familiar song in the bathroom — one that he always belts out in the most annoying way possible every time he showers. You wonder if he even knows any other song apart from that, but tell yourself you don't really have any business asking.

As the near-silence persists, however, your thoughts start to wander. Did he also sing this song when he was at karaoke earlier? Did he get to duet the high notes with Jihyo? You wouldn't put it past either of them to do so — being two of the company's renowned social butterflies.

That train of thought brings forth the same question you've been asking ever since the first night you shared this hotel room with Joshua and found him still lying beside you in the morning:

Why'd he choose you?

You're an in by nine and out by five unless there's paid overtime kind of employee. You never bothered establishing any worthwhile friendships in the workspace because you know better than to trust the backstabbing fiends in the corporate ladder. You're perfecrly aware of what other people say about your individualistic behavior — how you're the worst team player in your department — but you never really cared.

Not until Joshua Hong inserted himself into your life.

To put it in the easiest way possible, he's the epitome of a perfect coworker. He's the guy that greets you every morning with an charming smile. The guy who drops by your cubicle to give you a coffee he made himself before saying you're doing a great job with that report you're putting together. The guy that everyone just adores simply because he's always been likable from the get-go.

That's the kind of person Joshua is — the exact opposite of you. Surely the jury won't condemn you for always questioning how you wound up spending your Friday nights fucking the man your entire department is basically in love with when you're so unlovable yourself.

Every time you try to recall how your transactional relationship with the company's unofficial sweetheart happened in the first place, your brain simply refuses to cooperate — memories muddled by a few pints of beer too many and an eye-crinkling smile that you're better off not rationalizing.

Besides, it's not like Joshua kisses and tells. Whatever happens in Room 505 stays in Room 505, and that's one of the many reasons why you haven't deigned to walk away from the setup altogether.

You meet up, he makes you feel good — makes you feel wanted — he cycles through whatever aftercare you might need, you fall a little more in love with him, then you both decide if you want to sleep in for a couple more hours or —

Wait.

Did you just admit you're in love with him?

"Hm? Didn't think you'd actually hop in with me today."

Joshua's voice is clearly laced with amusement as you shut the door to the bathroom — cheeks hot with both the steam billowing from the shower and the embarrassment cloying in your chest. You had the foresight to take off your uniform at least, leaving you in an unassuming set of cotton underwear that makes Joshua lick his lips with anticipation.

You make a show of stripping the rest of your clothing before him — nothing but the glass door to the shower separating the both of you. It's nothing sensual, nothing grandiose. You simply take off everything that's keeping your body hidden from your nighttime lover's hungry eyes.

When you step into the warm drizzle of the showerhead, Joshua hums before reaching for a bottle of shampoo — squeezing just the right amount into his palm as he lathers the product into your scalp.

The gentleness weighted into his actions startles you a little — not having expected him to do something so...domestic. You came in here with the full intention of getting fucked against the bathroom wall, but the way he massages your scalp so tenderly makes you reconsider your course of action.

But no matter how much of a gentleman he acts around you, not even Joshua can do anything about his own body's physiological reactions.

You feel the length of his cock nestled against your ass, hips rocking back and forth as he stimulates himself into full hardness. A soft moan tumbles out of your lips when he squeezes some of the hotel-provided body wash all over your chest — large hands lathering the soap across your body all while paying special attention to your tits.

"You finally snapped out of it, sweetheart?" Joshua sighs before latching his mouth onto the thrum of your pulse, biting down for only a moment to get your attention. "Ready to take my cock like a good girl?"

The way he murmurs those last few words along the column of your throat makes your legs feel like they'll disintegrate at any moment. Joshua continues to murmur sweet nothings into your ear, helping you clean up properly first before actually trying anything.

You're not sure if you should be pissed off or endeared by his stalling, but by the time he's finally rinsed out all the suds from your heated bodies, you're more or less ripe for the taking.

"Brace your palms against the wall, pretty girl. Yeah, just like that." Joshua chuckles softly as he presses a kiss to your nape, lips traveling down the length of your spine until he's eye-level with your sopping cunt.

"God, I'll never get tired of looking at this pretty pussy. Been thinking about sinking my cock into you all fucking week," he practically growls. "You really knew what you were doing with that cute maroon skirt you wore the other day, weren't you? The one that kept riding up your thighs when you reached for something from the high shelves? Little fucking minx."

You mewl helplessly when you feel Joshua's tongue prodding your soaked folds — forcing you to press your cheek against the cold tile as he massages your ass gingerly.

Joshua does his best to keep you anchored, making sure you won't accidentally slip as he laves at the slick between your thighs. He has no problem doing just that — driving you to near insanity with how his tongue sucks and slurps at your cunt like it's the first meal he's had in days.

"S-Shua," you whimper pathetically, pushing your ass out for more friction. "You're eating me so good..."

Had you not been so quickly drowned in this haze of arousal, you would've exercised more restraint. Joshua normally has a hard time getting you to be more vocal whenever he makes you feel good, but you suppose that there's just something in the air tonight that makes it so easy to just surrender yourself to him.

You can feel the vibrations of his laughter along the millions of nerve endings on your clit as he traces it with the tip of his tongue — further incapacitating you from coherent thought. When he slips in a finger into your awaiting heat, you all but gasp into the steamy air of the hotel bathroom.

"You're so cute when you start calling me that," he coos without halting his ministrations — that sinful tongue darting out to tease and lick and stimulate as he eases in another thick finger into your gummy walls. "Wanna eat you out underneath your desk someday... Would you act as cute as you're acting right now if I did that?"

The prospect of having sweet, gentlemanly Joshua Hong on his knees for you under your work desk makes you tighten conspicuously around his fingers. From the sordid chuckle that leaves his lips, you're fairly certain that he's noticed.

"You like that, huh? You like it when I put my mouth on you? Make you feel so good, you forget about everything else?" he chuckles darkly, rising back to his full height without taking his fingers out of your needy cunt. "But we both know this is hardly enough for you, right sweetheart?"

You hate how he knows you so well.

Joshua spends about one minute max towel drying both of your bodies before he quite literally sweeps you off your feet. You let out a surprised shriek as he princess-carries you onto the bed — gently laying you on the undisturbed sheets before crawling on top of you like a predator circling its next meal.

"Wanna tell me why you were so out of it earlier?" Joshua murmurs as he nips at your jaw, the words followed by a crackle of thunder in the distance. He chuckles when you jolt in surprise before peppering your face with a collection of kisses that ends at the tip of your nose. "It's not the weather, is it? I remember that I literally fucked you in the middle of a storm last month."

"Quit running your mouth and just fuck me," you mumble, lacing your fingers around his nape before grinding up against his leaking cock. "I've waited for you long enough."

"Ahhh," he drawls with resounding epiphany, as if he'd just figured out some ancient secret. "So you were sulking because I took too long to get here? Don't worry, sweet thing, it won't happen again."

When Joshua leans close to your ear, his hot breath fans against your flesh — making your toes curl with quiet anticipation.

"The next time we meet in this room, I'll have you mounted on my cock the moment you come through the door."

Joshua doesn't bother with foreplay or any sort of preamble. He simply guides his cock into the give of your entrance, sinking his length so deep, you can feel him in your stomach.

"Fuck," you whimper, fingernails seeking purchase across the rippling muscles of Joshua's back. He doesn't quite move yet — letting you get used to the stretch like he always does.

"Pretty pussy's so fucking tight around me," he groans. "Did you need me this badly? 'm sorry for making you wait so long, sweetheart. If I had known, I would've ditched karaoke and made you feel good as soon as I could."

Empty words uttered in the throes of passion — you're well aware that's all they are. Yet Joshua has no trouble making your heart flutter with the sentiment anyway.

"J-Joshua," you manage to gasp as you feel his girth throb inside you. "Please move... Need it. Need it so bad, please."

You're on the brink of tears with how desperate you are for mind-numbing release, but amidst your mounting delirium, Joshua sighs a little too endearingly before pressing a long, hard kiss on your lips.

"Anything for you, pretty girl."

He eases himself into you slowly at first — making sure you feel every ridge of his cock dragging along your tight walls. Joshua particularly feels smug when your eyes roll to the back of your head, addicted to the way his cock is splitting you open.

It's only when you start to loosen up that he picks up the pace, strong hands gripping your thighs as he pounds into you. The squelch of your arousal echoes within the walls secluding you from the rest of the world.

When Joshua hoists your hips higher before hooking the back of your knees across his shoulders, you knew it was all over for you.

Admittedly, you don't remember the first time you've had sex with him anymore. Or the second. Or the third. You've had each other so many times in so many ways that every instance kind of just blends into the next — painting a messy caricature of all the illicit meetings you've had with your nighttime lover.

But you don't care if it's messy. You don't care if it's strange. At the end of the day, you're comforted by the fact that all these experiences you shared with him are irrevocably yours.

Even if you can't really say the same for Joshua himself.

He stirs the pot of your arousal with practiced ease. Joshua stares at you like you're the most precious thing he's laid eyes on before letting one of your legs fall back on the mattress.

Your lover trades the depth of his thrusts for enough leeway to flatten his thick fingers across your throat — making you bleat with expectation as he presses down just enough to make you feel lightheaded. He hisses when he feels your velvet walls clamp tighter around his cock, further informing him that he's on the right track.

"Fuck, sweetheart," he laughs breathlessly — his gorgeous face the only thing you can see. "You'll let me do anything to you, won't you? All I gotta do is fuck you stupid and you'll take everything I give."

At this point, you're too far gone to even deny a word he says. "Mmmm... Your cock feels too good, Shua. 'M so close already. You'll finish inside me, won't you? Make both of us feel good?"

"Dumb little princess couldn't even answer my question," Joshua chuckles before making a particularly harsh thrust that jostles you further up the mattress. "Of course I'll finish inside this pretty pussy. It's all mine, isn't it?"

"Uh-huh," you mewl as Joshua's fingers tighten around your throat again, making your toes curl with unadulterated glee. "My pussy's all yours, Joshua. All fucking yours."

He chuckles again, fingers climbing up to your jaw until Joshua is able to prod his thumb against your bottom lip. You respond in earnest, suckling at the digit as he rails you into the mattress. There's no longer any room for intelligible thoughts — lost in the sea of pleasure that Joshua choose to drown you in every time you come together like this.

"Close, close, close," you practically sob, thighs winding around his hips as you bring him impossibly closer to you. "Shua, I'm gonna cum. Please, I need to cum. I need you—"

"You already have me, sweetheart," he laughs breathlessly yet full of intent that you're too fucked out to notice.

"You'll always have me."

That's what does you in. That's what always does you in — his sweet words, his tender gaze.

As much as the pleasure he gives with each drive of his cock into your battered cunt sends you to cloud nine, nothing makes you fall apart harder than the thought that maybe Joshua Hong is capable of loving you back.

Because how can he stare at you with so much adoration in his eyes if he doesn't actually love you at all? How can he keep meeting you like this in secret if there's no hidden agenda behind it?

But when all's said and done, you come back to your senses. Your rose-tinted gaze fades back into the darkness of Room 505.

Joshua is still beaming at you like you're the only person that matters to him on this entire earth. But you know damn well that he'd never smile at you the same way once you're out of the four corners of this room.

That's just the way things are.

As you pick off your clothes from the floor of the bedroom and the bathroom alike, Joshua stirs from where he momentarily passed out on the mattress — bleary eyes observing your every move as his brows furrow together.

"You're leaving?" he murmurs sleepily. "But it's raining outside. We should stay until it stops at least."

Hesitating for a moment, you stare at the bundle of rumpled clothes in your arms as Joshua practically tells you to go back to bed.

You know it's for the best if you don't lay back down beside him. The distance keeps you grounded — anchored to the truth that beyond these weekly trysts you share together, you and Joshua are nothing but civil colleagues at most.

He isn't your lover. He isn't even your friend.

But a stubborn part of you believes that maybe if he breaks you apart and puts you back together again, you'll be a different person. Someone who can keep up with his outgoing lifestyle. Someone he'll have no problem showing off to his friends and fellow coworkers.

But, really, when have things ever turned up daisies when it comes to you and Joshua Hong?

"Fine," you mumble, dropping your clothes in a heap next to the sushi necktie that looks more worn out now that you're seeing it up close.

You make a mental note to buy him a few more once the Christmas sales start coming around again.

"You coming to cuddle before we sleep or what?"

Joshua stares at you sleepily and expectantly from the bed, even patting the vacant space between him for added effect. If only those girls swooning at him in the office pantry could see him now...

Too bad what happens in Room 505 stays in Room 505.

⟢ end notes: finished this at 3:05 am with zero proofreading dedicated to it <3 if you spot any mistakes, they're not really mistakes since they're all crucial contenders in the creation process <333

[idiopathicsmile]

School Gymnastics: A Tragicomedy

So one day when we were in third grade, our P.E. teacher divided us into girls and boys. (I don’t remember what the boys had to do. Wrestling? Tackle football? I don’t know, probably not at age nine, but that’s not the point. Gladiatorial combat? I still don’t really understand kids’ sports.)

What matters for this story is that all the girls had to do gymnastics. Now—and I suspect this won’t surprise you if you know literally anything about me—I was always terrible at any form of school athletics. I am intensely, almost impressively uncoordinated. This doesn’t affect my life much at 36, but it was often a miserable way to be a kid. The only playground game I liked was playing pretend, because when you are playing pretend, you don’t have a bunch of people ostensibly on your side screaming in your ear, “Pretend faster! Pretend over there! Pretend with greater accuracy!”

Anyway, gymnastics and my clumsy, doughy little body. I couldn’t do a cartwheel. I couldn’t do a backwards somersault. I couldn't do any of it. We had an entire unit on this business and I literally did not learn how to even safely attempt a single move besides the log roll (lie flat and roll sideways on your belly). In retrospect, this seems like maybe it was in part a teaching problem, not a me problem, but that’s actually not the point either.

The point is, at the end of the unit, we were told to divide ourselves into little teams and choreograph a group gymnastics routine. My group, faced with my long list of limitations (more limitation than girl, really) decide my role will be to just forwards-somersault around the rest of the group as they do their moves. (This is itself kind of embarrassing but trust me, it is but the appetizer.) My friend Ashley has the Lion King soundtrack and we all agree that it is a great choice. The movie has only come out a couple of years earlier, and it of course features some funny, peppy options. 'Hakuna Matata'? 'I Just Can't Wait to Be King'? It's all coming together.

Carried on a wave of youthful enthusiasm, none of us even think to double-check which track Ashley has picked. Foreshadowing!

So the day of the performance comes. Another group goes right before us. They had picked “Wannabe” by the Spice Girls, which was a huge hit at the time. I mean, it still is because it’s a classic, but then it was big and new. They step onto the mat and immediately begin to do choreographed dance moves, which they have worked into their routine. We had not thought of this. Oops. Dance moves, of course! So they incorporate the necessary gymnastics, it goes over really well, the energy is high, and now it’s my group’s turn.

I take my place at the edge of the mat, the mat we are required to stay on for the length of the piece. Ashley cues up the track she’d chosen.

A song starts up. Instantly, I recognize it from the movie. It is the very slow instrumental music that plays when Simba realizes his dad is dead.

‘Well, this is not optimal,’ I think. I've been on this planet for nine years; I can see that much. But it’s too late to change the track, and so I tell myself, ‘It’s okay. I’m a performer. I can sell this.’ I put on an extremely solemn face and begin to execute a series of the world’s saddest somersaults.

Friends, when I say “sad” I mean it, in every possible sense of the word. Picture a nine year old with the gravest possible affect, determinedly doing somersaults to the slowest, most serious music she can imagine, in a careful ring around her friends who have actually learned any gymnastics whatsoever. Okay, now as the music starts to pick up and get more hopeful, imagine she gets real dizzy and in front of everyone, she rolls all the way directly off the mat, careening dangerously towards the assembled students.

Somehow, I roll myself back onto the mat, we survive what feels like hours of humiliation, we stagger away, and I blessedly avoid adding “puking my guts out in front of all of my peers” to my very short list of gymnastics tricks.

Later, I asked Ashley what in the world possessed her to choose that song.

“It didn’t have any words,” she said.

(There was absolutely no rule against using songs that had lyrics.)

Anyway, that’s why being an adult is better than being a kid.

I may have to do laundry and make my own dinner and wrestle with more complex existential angst, but you know what I haven’t been asked to do in like 26 years? Somersault for three minutes straight to the musical shorthand for “this cartoon lion cub has no choice but to process the weight of unimaginable grief for his dead dad.” And you know what? If I live another 50 years, I can be pretty confident nobody will ask me to do it then, either.

[chuulyssa]

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

pairing ⸺ satoru gojo x reader

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

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

count ⸺ 22k

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

🎧 ao3 wattpad

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Love? Oh, maybe they were married.

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

“Come with me, daughter.”

──── ୨ৎ ────

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

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

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

“Oh, wow, really?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Do you like horse riding?” “What?”

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

“Oh.” “Yeah.”

There was another silence.

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

“Do you like potatoes?”

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

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

──── ୨ৎ ────

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What?” You frowned.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What?” You stared at him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Dispose? You don’t mean—”

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

Your fingers clenched the windowsill.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

──── ୨ৎ ────

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“We’re not partners.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yup, let’s go now.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But the girl kept blocking his way.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You raised an eyebrow. “Burger?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Thanks, Utahime.”

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

“Hey, nothing for me?” Satoru wailed.

“Who the fuck are you?” “Rude.”

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

“So?” You munched on your chips.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Not really,” you lied.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Right?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Wow, mature,” Satoru deadpanned.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Leaving without saying hi? Rude.”

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

Utahime groaned. “Go away, Gojo.”

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

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

“Why do you care?” Utahime shot back.

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

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

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

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

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

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

──── ୨ৎ ────

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

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

“Satoru,” his father began.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh no,” you muttered under your breath.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Really?” you said hopefully.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Name one,” his father challenged.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

──── ୨ৎ ────

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

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

And open it she did.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

No.

That was it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

──── ୨ৎ ────

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You didn’t have to—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Satoru, what are you—”

“Helping,” he said simply.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Just what were you feeling?

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

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

“Alright there?” he asked softly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

──── ୨ৎ ────

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

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

You must've been a mistake

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Does he know?” you managed to ask.

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

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

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

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

But this? This was too much.

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

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

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

Engaged. To Satoru.

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

──── ୨ৎ ────

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

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

Satoru.

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

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

“Huh? Oh yeah.”

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

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

Wait.Wasn’t she—?

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

Oh.

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

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

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

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

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

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

You nodded.

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

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

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

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

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

“Another one?” “No, thank you.”

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

──── ୨ৎ ────

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

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

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

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

You felt the hairs on your neck prickle.

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

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

You felt like an outsider.

──── ୨ৎ ────

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Utahime—” your voice broke.

──── ୨ৎ ────

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

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

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

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

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

You couldn’t breathe.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

──── ୨ৎ ────

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Leave,” you whispered through gritted teeth.

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

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

You don’t even belong in this house!

He was right.

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

She was right.

It is the spawn of Satan himself!

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

Come with me, daughter.

It was a lie.

You know I won’t leave you.

Lie.

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

Lie, lie, lie!

You know lying is a sin, right?

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

──── ୨ৎ ────

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

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

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

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

“What do you want?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

──── ୨ৎ ────

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

Except for Shoko.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

──── ୨ৎ ────

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

Hey. It’s me. Haha.

No no no. Hey, how have you been?

No, ugh. Hey, nice weather?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Alina?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I didn’t—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

──── ୨ৎ ────

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

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

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

You didn’t move. “Do what?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That was when you saw it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“One sheep, two sheep, three sheep—”

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

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

“One sheep, two sh—”

Shit. Nature’s call.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You nodded wordlessly, unable to trust your voice.

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

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

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

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

──── ୨ৎ ────

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Haru smirked. “See? She gets it.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Aoi gave an exasperated sigh but said nothing.

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

Shoko’s reply was predictably blunt.

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

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

Utahime’s letter was far less chill.

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

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

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

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

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

──── ୨ৎ ────

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

──── ୨ৎ ────

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your parents.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Her brow furrowed. “Who are?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A faint smile tugged at your lips.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What did they just say?” you whispered.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“But this is an alliance—” Daijiro started.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

──── ୨ৎ ────

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

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

“Did you know?” he asked.

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

“That you’re my fiancee.” The words came out bitter and flat, as if he couldn’t believe he was saying them aloud.

Your breath caught in your throat. You had been bracing for this conversation, but not so soon. Not like this. “Yes,” you admitted after a moment.

He reeled back, as though the admission had physically struck him. “You knew?” His voice rose, echoing off the corridor walls. “How long? How long have you known?”

“A year,” you said hesitantly, feeling guilt rise up in your throat. “I mean… last year, your mother—”

“A year?” His voice cracked, and he ran a hand through his hair in frustration. “You’ve known for an entire year, and you didn’t think to tell me?”

“I thought she would tell you,” you stammered. “She said she’d handle it.”

“Well, clearly, she didn’t!” he snapped, spinning to face you again. “So what, you were just going to wait until the wedding invitations went out?”

“That’s not what I meant!” you shot back. “I didn’t even agree to this in the first place. I was just as blindsided as you when she told me!”

“But she did tell you, and you did know,” he repeated coldly. “And you didn’t think I had a right to know?”

“You’re acting like I had a choice!” you said, your voice rising to match his.

“That doesn’t excuse keeping it from me!” he shouted too. “You and my mom — both of you — went behind my back. You made me feel like an idiot standing in that room today.”

“Oh, we made you look like an idiot?” you scoffed. “Why? Because you were actually planning to agree to her proposal? Because you wanted to marry that witch of a woman?”

His eyes widened in disbelief. “Are you serious? I barely even looked at her if I didn’t have to!”

“That was because mother had told you not to!” you countered. “Don’t stand there and question me when you’ve been acting like you have other options.”

“I didn’t know I didn’t have other options!” he shouted. “Because no one told me! The two people I trust the most in this world, you both kept me in the dark!”

You sighed. “Satoru—”

“No,” he cut you off. “Do you have any idea what this feels like? To know that the people you rely on the most didn’t think you were worth the truth?”

“That’s not fair,” you said softly, trying to find the right words. “I was just obeying mother—”

“Obeying mother?” he laughed incredulously. “By lying to me?”

“I didn’t lie!” you snapped. “I just… didn’t know how to tell you.”

“Well, you should have figured it out,” he said bitterly. “Because now, all I can think about is how little I actually know about you. About us. About… anything.”

The air between you felt heavy, suffocating. You wanted to say something, anything to fix the look of betrayal in his eyes, but your mind was blank.

Finally, he shook his head, his voice dropping to a strained whisper. “Look… I’ve never thought of you that way before, okay? You’re… you’re pretty, but you’re like a sister to me. That’s how I’ve always seen you. Nothing more. Nothing less.”

Oh. Of course.

“I need space,” he muttered, stepping back. “I need time to think.”

© chuulyssa 2024 - do not copy, plagiarize or repost my works on any platforms. do not translate.

[critterbitter]

It’s everybody’s favorite lantern! Ingo's partner pokemon's very chaos incorporated. Inspired by the very enthusiastic asks in my inbox, which I’ll be responding to under this cut ;0 Wanna see more? Check out this submas masterlist.

@euos-the-cat AAA thank you! I took one look at that waxy gremlin and thought "huh. I can do something with this."

@eventhetiniestbugs Yo. YO. HEADCANNON ACCEPTED. Litwick really is sort of a beatrice, isn't she? Being Ingo (and in part, Emmet's) unwilling guide. Reluctant friend. Best found family.

@answrs Thanks!!! I love sneasler and I need to draw her more. It wasn't on purpose, but it seems I've accidentally wrote myself into a Sort Of chronological posting (oops!) But sneasler WILL appear later (hopefully BEFORE my hyperfixation fizzles out haha)

@raynavan AhHEhEHEHEH. I usually don't dabble with too much angst, but yeah. On the plus side, uh, more chandelure emmet interactions! On the down side, well.

@blueisquitetired You learn to like rice. It's a staple in your diet, and while you may think its bland and boring, it becomes something you can always rely on during meal time when things get dicey. Or, well. It was.

@moothebloo ...DEFINITELY SAVING THAT FOR LATER. CHANDELURE ANGRY SHARPIE BROWS LETS GOO. (Idk if you're into rottmnt, but uh that's some donnie behaviors that I definitely approve of.)

@gender-nuteral-nut-boy First of all, amazing user name. you get all the gender. second of all (points at picture) she's doing finnee! She's doing So Great. Don't Worry About It. ((She has emmet, and later the gear station, and even later maybe even elesa. But Ingo's Hers, and that's a wound that can't be easily staunched.)) @ghostlykryptonitenight Ah,, you see, your first mistake is thinking she'll Remember. : )

Head cannon: ghost pokemon are not a direct reincarnation of a dead soul, and are more like… say, the mold that grows from a coffee mug left out for too long. But they have fragments of memories and dreams of cherished ones. Chandelure knows Ingo’s alive thanks to their bond. She vaguely knows her propagator probably knew Ingo’s identical great uncle or something. But those pieces don’t really connect until Emmet’s research, and she’s tired and faded and the simple act of trying hurts.

(She would leap through space and time for ingo. Chandelure and Emmet would do anything to get their muppet back, even if it means to salt the earth and unearth gods.)