lavrneryo

[lavrneryo]

OMYGOD I AM SO SOFT

synopsis ୭ ˚. ᵎᵎ nanami accidentally finds your small, anxious-but-sincere vlogs and quietly falls for you through the screen. and when you meet, he becomes a gentle, faceless presence behind the camera—helping you grow, and loving you all the while.

tori’s notes ᝰ.ᐟ this was so fun to write

nanami doesn’t really use youtube. it’s too loud, too cluttered, too full of people trying too hard. he’s more of a quiet reader or podcast listener—he likes his content slow and thoughtful. but sometimes, during quiet lunch breaks or sleepless nights, he finds himself scrolling, searching for something simple to fill the silence.

the first time he sees your face, he skips the video. it’s nothing personal. the thumbnail just seems… ordinary. a soft smile, a blurry background of what looks like a street food stall, and a simple title: “trying something new today (๑•́‿•̀๑)”. he doesn’t think much of it.

but youtube, in all its persistence, keeps putting you in his recommendations.

every few days, your face reappears. new title. new blurry background. another small smile. there’s something oddly comforting about it, even if he hasn’t clicked yet. eventually, curiosity wins. one night, half-asleep and curled up on his couch, he taps on a thumbnail without thinking.

the video is quiet. not silent, but there’s no obnoxious background music or jump cuts. just you. talking a little nervously to the camera, explaining how you’ve never tried this kind of food before, how it makes you anxious to eat alone in public but you’re doing it anyway, for yourself. you pause a lot. laugh at yourself. your editing is minimal—sometimes you just leave long clips in where you sit there silently, debating the next bite.

and nanami… stays.

he doesn’t mean to. he thinks he’ll just let the video play in the background while he dozes off. but he finds himself watching. then clicking on another one. and another. you talk to the camera like it’s a friend. you say things like “i know no one’s really watching this, but…” and “this was scary for me, but i’m proud of myself anyway.”

there’s no performance. no show. just you, trying. trying to live a little braver. trying to make the world a little softer for yourself. and even though your videos have only a few thousand views at most, and a comment section with maybe ten or twenty kind words, nanami can tell you read every single one. you reply with gratitude and sincerity. you sign your replies with hearts and “thank you for watching!!” even when someone just says “nice vid :)”.

he doesn’t comment for a long time. he watches quietly, always late at night, a silent companion to your small adventures. his favorite video becomes one where you try to bike through a park trail you’ve never been on before. the camera shakes the entire time, the sky is gray, and you end up getting rained on halfway through. soaked and breathless, you laugh and say, “this was a disaster. but i don’t regret it.” and something about that sticks in his chest.

he comments on a video one day. it’s short, awkwardly formal:

“i admire your courage to keep stepping outside your comfort zone. thank you for sharing.”

a few hours later, you reply.

“thank you so much!!! i get really nervous about posting sometimes so this means a lot ;; i’m trying my best!! ♡”

nanami reads that reply more times than he’d like to admit.

—

he doesn’t think he’ll ever meet you. you feel like a little glowing orb in his private world. something precious that lives on his phone, just a click away, not real, not tangible.

but then, he’s at a weekend market. the kind of place you’d probably vlog, actually. he’s just there to buy fresh bread, enjoy the quiet, maybe grab a coffee. he’s walking past a stand selling handmade keychains when he hears a familiar voice.

soft. a little unsure. asking for the price of something.

he turns.

and you’re there.

you look just like your videos—maybe a little shorter, bundled in a cardigan despite the warmth, your bag too big for your frame, holding a small camera that’s not even recording. your hair’s a little messy. your eyes bright, darting around nervously. you’re alone.

and suddenly, nanami is nervous in a way he hasn’t been in years.

he debates not saying anything. he could let this pass. keep you as a digital secret. but then you glance in his direction, and smile—just polite, a brief flicker of recognition for another passerby—and nanami finds himself stepping forward before his brain catches up.

“…excuse me,” he says, and your eyes widen a little.

“yes?” you ask, voice soft.

“i’ve… watched your videos,” he says, and you freeze for a second. “they mean a lot to me.”

you blink. your mouth opens a little in surprise, then closes. and then you smile.

“really?” you say, a little breathless. “you… you actually watch them?”

“yes,” he says simply. “i think you’re brave.”

your hand flies up to your mouth, eyes darting away. “oh my god,” you mumble. “that’s—thank you. that’s so nice. i didn’t think anyone recognized me. my channel’s tiny.”

“doesn’t change the impact,” he says, and it’s honest. the way he always is.

you talk for a while after that. awkwardly at first—your nerves, his reserved nature—but slowly, something soft and lovely builds in the air between you. you laugh a lot, mostly just nervous. he listens a lot, mostly because that’s just the way he is. he tells you his name is kento. you tell him you were scared to even leave the house today, but you’re glad you did. he smiles.

before you part ways, you ask, very shyly, if he’d be okay with you filming just a little. not his face, of course—just his voice, his presence. he agrees.

that night, a new video goes up.

“a tiny adventure at the weekend market ✿ i made a new friend today…”

nanami watches it from his bed, and when his offscreen voice appears—gentle, amused, offering to carry your bag for you—his heart does something strange in his chest.

—

the first time nanami appears in a vlog, it’s his hand passing you a coffee.

you call him “a friend i made recently,” and giggle when he corrects your pronunciation of a pastry. he’s never shown — not fully. a shoulder here. the back of his head. your viewers are very curious. you just smile, almost bashful, and say, “he’s camera-shy, but he’s very sweet.”

you start mentioning him more in your vlogs. he’s still off-screen, but you’ll glance his way and smile. say something like “he helped me set this up,” or “he picked this place,” or just “he’s here with me.”

you don’t have to say his name. he stays a faceless figure in your videos. your viewers start to notice something more.

you never confirm anything. you just smile, cheeks pink, and say, “he’s really sweet. i’m lucky.”

nanami doesn’t need the spotlight. he’s happy to carry your bag, offer a steady hand when you’re nervous, and hold the camera when you want to capture something new. he’s happy to be the one encouraging you behind the scenes, whispering that you’re doing great when you doubt yourself.

you film together more and more. he goes with you to bookstores, little food stalls, quiet museums. he carries your tripod. holds your coat. gives you gentle encouragement when you freeze up in public and smile too hard when it’s over.

he falls in love with you quietly. over time. he doesn’t say it at first. he lets it bloom through little gestures — buying the tea you liked, learning how to edit videos just to help you with cuts, leaving voice notes when you’re too anxious to leave the house. he listens. he supports. he stays.

and he’s happiest when, in a quiet clip near the end of a video, you look off-camera and say, “i think i’m a little less scared of the world lately.”

he squeezes your hand off-screen. you smile at the touch.

and your viewers never hear the softest part—how, when the camera stops recording, you lean into his side and whisper, “thank you for finding me.”

nanami, who never believed in fate or chance or algorithms, just kisses your cheek and replies, “thank you for being found.”

[lavrneryo]

synopsis ୭ ˚. ᵎᵎ when you’re too sick to care for your baby, nanami brings her to the office strapped to his chest—calm, efficient, and completely unfazed as he gives presentations with a pacifier on his tie and a baby on board.

tori’s notes ᝰ.ᐟ this is ridiculous i’m warning you

nanami doesn’t even flinch when you croak from under the covers, voice raw and pitiful: “ken, i can’t—i think i have a fever, and she won’t stop crying unless i’m holding her.”

your voice cracks halfway through the sentence. you look like a ghost of yourself, half-sunken into your nest of tissues and blankets, hair a disaster, eyes glazed and watery. the baby’s red-faced and sniffling too, sprawled across your chest like a little heater, tiny fists grasping your shirt like she knows you might try to hand her off.

nanami, standing in the doorway, calmly adjusts his watch.

“i’ll take her.”

you blink. “you… you have three meetings today.”

“and now i have three meetings with a baby,” he says, already crossing the room like a man with a mission.

you can’t even protest properly before he’s kneeling beside the bed and gently peeling her off you, expertly switching to his papa voice — warm and low, as if he’s de-escalating a tiny, fussy hostage situation.

“there we go,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to her forehead, then yours. “we’ll manage. rest. you know what medicine you should take. call me if you need anything.”

ten minutes later, he’s at the front door in his usual tan coat, baby carrier strapped securely to his chest like she’s a very warm, very giggly piece of office equipment. she’s wearing one of those obnoxiously frilly headbands you swore you’d never put on her — but she screamed when he tried to take it off, and he’s not here to pick battles today.

diaper bag over his shoulder. bottle packed. pacifier clipped neatly to his tie. hair combed, shoes polished, baby securely swaddled and babbling.

“don’t let the interns try to hold her,” you wheeze weakly from the hallway.

“i would rather die,” he replies without missing a beat.

as he walks out, you hear him murmur to her, “no loud commentary during the finance report. we must suffer through it in dignified silence.”

cut to: the morning finance meeting, 9:01 a.m., in a fluorescent-lit conference room downtown.

the projector is humming. spreadsheets fill the screen. half the team is slumped in various degrees of caffeine withdrawal.

nanami kento walks in, perfectly on time, baby on his chest like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

he doesn’t explain it. doesn’t apologize. he walks straight to the head of the table, clicks open his laptop, adjusts the projector, and begins speaking with the same calm, measured cadence he always uses—

except this time, there’s a tiny foot sticking out of the carrier, gently bumping his blazer.

“moving into Q3,” he says, clicking to the next slide, “we’re forecasting a moderate increase in asset reallocation—”

the baby lets out a soft, inquisitive coo.

nanami glances down at her, gives a very small nod, and says to the room, “correct. the Q3 projections are, in fact, unfortunate.”

silence.

well—almost silence.

from somewhere near the coffee machine, an intern tries to whisper, “is that a—?”

nanami turns his head fractionally. just enough to shut it down.

“yes. she’s here in lieu of her mother, who is unwell. please direct all questions to me or her, depending on the topic.”

no one questions it.

she doesn’t cry, not even once. in fact, she seems thrilled. she clutches his tie like it’s her personal emotional support ribbon and waves her tiny hand every time someone shifts in their chair. at one point, she lets out a high-pitched giggle, and nanami simply pauses mid-sentence, gently pats her back, and continues like nothing happened.

someone tries to make eye contact and smile at her—

she beams and throws her toy at them.

nanami takes back the toy and sighs, “don’t encourage her. she’ll never stop.”

the entire time, he keeps presenting with his utmost precision, occasionally glancing down at her to tuck the headband back into place or swap her pacifier like he’s been doing this his whole life.

he wraps up right on time.

“any further questions?”

dead silence.

even the regional manager just gives a tight nod. no one wants to risk being shamed by a baby.

—

back home, it’s late afternoon when the door creaks open.

you’re still buried in blankets, half-delirious and clinging to a half-empty box of tissues. you blearily lift your head at the sound of keys in the bowl.

nanami walks in with the same exact expression he had when he left: calm, unreadable… except there’s a little extra softness at the corners of his eyes.

the baby is still strapped to his chest. fast asleep now, one hand gripping his tie, the other curled against his collarbone. she’s drooling slightly. he hasn’t removed the headband.

“she was very well-behaved,” he says quietly. “arguably more professional than half the team.”

you laugh — or try to, but it comes out as a croaky wheeze.

he crouches beside you, brushing a bit of hair from your face. “how are you feeling?”

“like death.” he nods and kisses your cheek.

you glance over at the baby. “how was she, really?”

“chatty,” he says, straight-faced. “opinionated about quarterly earnings. but otherwise excellent.”

he lifts her hand gently, unhooks her fingers from his tie.

“you’re insane,” you whisper.

he leans in to kiss your forehead, gentle and lingering.

“efficient,” he corrects.

then, after a beat—

“also… she now technically works in accounting.”

you blink. “what?”

he shrugs.

“someone handed her a spreadsheet. she drooled on it. that’s more than my latest intern did today.”

you laugh again, properly this time.

he finally unstraps her, carefully settling her into the bassinet. she doesn’t stir — not even when he tucks her blanket in with military precision.

you lie there watching him move quietly around the apartment, sleeves rolled up, tie chewed, hair slightly out of place, and realize:

papa nanami could take over the world with a baby strapped to his chest and a pacifier in his pocket, and he’d still be home in time to fold the laundry.

[lavrneryo]

THIS IS SO GOOD OMFG

[Honor & Vengeance] S. Geto - 夏油 傑

Pairing: general!suguru x fem!reader Word Count: 15.1k Series Warnings: please read my blog rules before interacting. 18+ mdni, explicit sexual content, depiction of gore and violence, mature themes Chapter Warnings: mature themes, emotional angst, description of violence and injury Tags: historical au, non-curse au, marriage of convenience, slow burn, enemies to lovers, smut, angst, hurt/comfort Summary: With the arrival of Princess Ayaka and the Royal Envoy, hopes were high for smooth negotiations. But it soon became clear that the princess was unfit for the task - and perhaps had other motives entirely. You had planned to stay on the sidelines, and let Suguru take the lead. As tensions rose and the threat of war loomed, you found yourself supporting from the shadows - but at what cost? a/n: This is part 2 of 'The Eastern Campsite Incident'. Thank you so much for reading! x

Master List: << chapter 4 | chapter 6 (to be continued) >>

[Chapter 5]: The Eastern Campsite Incident (Pt. 2)

A few days ago, it had been announced to the broader camp that Princess Ayaka was coming to meet with an envoy from the East, in hopes of easing political tensions. The Eastern Region had accepted the invitation and would be arriving in two weeks, which gave Suguru and the council just enough time to prepare Ayaka for what to expect. This also meant that House Geto’s stay had been prolonged indefinitely, at least until everything was concluded. 

Everything hinged on this negotiation, and all eyes were on the princess.

Would this end in peace—or mark the beginning of a new war?

Despite the uneasiness in the air, everyone carried on with business as usual, completely unaware of the newfound tension between General Geto and his wife.

Since last night, neither of you had spoken a word about the kiss. Perhaps, it was better that way, because addressing it would give it meaning, and you knew none of this meant anything. Whatever feelings were brewing in your chest, though, you’d have to decipher it another day. Troubles of the heart didn’t matter in the face of the well-being of nations.

“They’re here,” Haibara announced. His voice cuts through your thoughts. 

Today, the entire camp stood on high alert, preparing to receive Princess Ayaka and the Royal Guards. You stole a small glance at Suguru, who stood beside you—his gaze fixed on the horizon.

From a distance, you spotted a small group advancing. The princess was draped in pastel-pink silks and minimal accessories, but she still managed to look effortlessly noble. Clothes didn’t make her; she made them. And in broad daylight her beauty was impossible to miss.

As a matter of fact, all of King Sato’s children were beautiful. 

Most would credit the late queen and his concubines for the royal children’s good looks, and though it may be true that the king had refined taste in women, Sato himself (according to many court rumors) was a beautiful man in his prime. Allegedly, Sato was never meant to be king. In fact, he was the sixth in line of succession. But tragedy struck one by one, and all the successors before him had perished under unexplained circumstances, allowing Sato to ascend the throne. Henceforth, some secretly dubbed him as the Serpent King—a man who used his cunning and beauty to slither his way to the throne.

“We welcome you, Ayaka-sama,” the crowd greeted in unison with a bow.

“Thank you for the warm welcome.” She smiled. “It warms me to see that everyone is well and in good spirits.”

“Of course, your presence here is already reassuring, Ayaka-sama!” one of the council members chimed in.

“I’m glad,” she replied gracefully. “I’ll be sure to do my best and see that our two nations bring about peace and understanding.”

“I do apologize, General Geto, Lady Geto. That my father sent you off to duty so soon after your wedding.”

“Not at all, Ayaka-sama,” Suguru said, bowing deeper. “We are here to serve the King and our country. It is an honor and duty we take seriously.”

“My husband couldn’t have reflected the sentiment any better,” you said composedly.

Her eyes drifted to Suguru, then to you, lingering just a moment longer on you. It was long enough for you to notice, but not long enough to draw a conclusion to anything. Yet her gaze felt measured.

…

The clear skies and warm weather clashed with the weight of unspoken tension lingering in the air. Soldiers continued their tasks, while others couldn’t peel their eyes away from the princess as the group escorted Ayaka to her quarters. For many commoners, the chance to see royalty from afar wouldn’t come in their lifetime, let alone now that one was so close. It was only natural that some were so awestruck.

You headed towards a quieter part of the camp with vast greenery. The entire section had been repurposed solely for Ayaka, with a large tent set up and royal guards stationed all around it. As the lady of the camp—by virtue of being the general’s wife—it fell to you to oversee the princess’ hospitality and ensure her comfort during her stay.

Luckily, you’d managed to find some acceptable furniture for the princess’ accommodations. You were curious why such luxuries were even stored at the camp, but one of the soldiers relayed that a noble family had gifted them to Suguru a few years ago. While he’d accepted the gesture, he had refused to use them. Apparently, the general found it distasteful to live in such comfort in the midst of war—so the items had been sent to storage and likely forgotten over time.

At least there was one thing you agreed with Suguru on.

“I hope you will find your stay and the accommodations acceptable, Ayaka-sama,” you said, as you entered her tent with her—staying a respectable distance at the entrance. 

Ayaka wandered into the tent and began to browse around while a few royal court servants immediately busied themselves with unpacking her clothes. The princess slowly made her round in the space, examining the surroundings with a careful eye. You held your breath, hoping it would be enough, since this had been your first time preparing accommodations for royalty.

Truthfully, you weren’t sure what to think of Princess Ayaka. On the outside she appeared graceful, well-tempered, and eloquent, but beyond that, it was hard to tell what she was truly thinking. The only time you’d met her was at the wedding, and that had been a little tense. But since her arrival, it didn't take long to realize that the rumors about her and Suguru were somewhat true. 

At least you were certain she still had feelings for him. It was evident in the way her eyes seem to instinctively trace his every movement.

Ayaka suddenly turned, locking eyes. For a moment, her features were devoid of emotions. Your body stiffened ever so slightly, unsure if she’d found something displeasing with the arrangements. But then, she proceeded to smile.

“It’s wonderful, Lady Geto. You have my sincerest gratitude.”

“Of course, Ayaka-sama,” you bowed. “If there’s anything I can do to make your stay more comfortable, please don’t hesitate to let me know.”

As you were about to quietly excuse yourself, she suddenly called out to you.

“Wait, Lady Geto.“

Ayaka gently waved off the royal servants. “Would you stay and keep me company for a while?”

You blinked, caught off guard, as the servants excused themselves and left one by one.

“Of course,” you replied, the confusion in your voice barely masked.

She gestured to the empty seat beside her on the wooden bench. You crossed the room slowly, doing your best to hide the hesitation in your steps, and quietly sat beside her. Despite feeling apprehensive of her sudden invitation, you remained dignified and mindful of proper etiquette—something your father had drilled into you from a young age, despite your aversion to it.

Ayaka engaged in small talk with you, which, quite frankly, was your least favorite thing in the world. You answered all her questions politely, speaking only when spoken to. Most would probably kill to be in your position right now—an opportunity to rub shoulders with the princess, gain recognition, and curry her favor.

But it was exhausting.

“How is marriage with Su— I mean, General Geto?” she asked.

Ah. There it was.

The princess was oddly predictable. You had expected all royalty to be refined and secretive. She had the refinement, but lacked the subtlety. You’d suspected that the small talk was somewhat of a smokescreen. Nonetheless, there always came a small pleasant surprise when your speculations were proven true.

“Our marriage is more than I could have asked for,” you replied courteously.

“I don’t expect any less. He is a good man after all.” Ayaka’s smile was soft, almost wistful. “We’ve known each other since we were children… so he is very important to me.”

“He is an honorable and competent man,” you said with a calm smile.

“Indeed, he’s always been like that since we were young.” Her tone was indiscernible. “We both cherish each other deeply, so I just want to make sure he’s treating you well.”

Her remark gave you a brief pause. 

You supposed that statement was something you hadn’t anticipated.

“Thank you for your concern, Ayaka-sama. As his wife, I take comfort knowing Suguru is surrounded by loyal allies like yourself.”

She let out a soft laughter, but it fell flat. Clearly, she was not all that amused.

“To be honest… I’m a little worried about this meeting.” Her fingers fidgeted in her lap. “My father shouldn’t have sent me here. I doubt I’ll be of any help.”

The confession was rather jarring. 

Just moments ago, she had told everyone that she would try her best to be of help, and now she was saying the complete opposite. More importantly, you weren’t sure what her intention was for confiding such sensitive information, when you’d barely established a rapport with her. It certainly wasn’t because she felt comforted by your presence.

“Forgive my directness, Ayaka-sama. But are you not to wed their prince?" You questioned. “I can’t see anyone else more suitable for this negotiation than you.”

“I–I am…” her head slightly dropped. “But… I’ve never done this before. And in truth, I don’t want to marry him.” 

You bit the inside of your lip. This kind of knowledge could be dangerous—treasonous, even—if anyone knew she confided in you.

Was this manipulation veiled beneath innocence, or was she genuinely daft?

“I’m afraid that’s beyond my understanding, Ayaka-sama,” you said carefully.

“Then… how did you and General Geto make it work?” she asked, her voice tinged with desperation.

Her question was invasive. Offensive, even.

Sure, it wasn’t far from the truth that the marriage was tumultuous, but it still baffled you how confidently Ayaka assumed you and Suguru had marital issues. And to say it so brazenly, no less.

Intentional or not, it was apparent that she did not feel the need to maintain basic decorum between the two of you. A cold war was already brewing between you and your husband—admittedly it had been at a standstill recently—but you were not about to deal with another emotional warfare, even if it was instigated by the princess.

“I believe the foundation of any relationship—not just a marriage—is respect, Ayaka-sama.” You looked at her, holding your gaze. “Knowing which lines shouldn’t be crossed, while affording each other the space to remain their own person.”

“I-I see…”

“Pardon the intrusion, Ayaka-sama,” a voice called out from beyond the tent.

It was Haibara. 

“Your attendance is required in the strategy room,” he relayed the information. 

“Yes, I’ll be there soon,” Ayaka called out. 

“By any chance, is Lady Geto with you? Someone said they’ve seen her—”

“I’m here, Haibara,” you replied. 

“My lady, your attendance is also expected. Please escort Ayaka-sama there with haste.” Haibara said. 

You let out a weary sigh. 

It had become increasingly tiresome to always have things known at the last minute. 

“Shall we, Ayaka-sama?” you stood up and straightened your posture.

Ayaka stared back at you with glossy, uncertain eyes—a look that seemed too fragile for a political negotiator, let alone the to-be crown princess of an entire nation.

“Alright.” She nodded. 

…

Among the war council and the stuffy strategy room, you found yourself sitting beside Haibara as a silent spectator. At first, you were confused by his sudden request, and it was evident that Suguru was not aware of this arrangement, judging from the look he gave you when he saw you trailing behind Ayaka. But as the council meeting progressed, you realized that there was a reason for this last-minute invitation: it was Haibara’s covert way of asking for help.

There were many things you found amiable about Haibara, but the one thing you respected the most was his impeccable foresight. You could understand why someone like Suguru would have Haibara as his right-hand man. 

As the meeting went on, it became more apparent how dire the situation was, though you weren’t so sure how you’d be able to offer assistance at this point. It wasn't like you wielded such power to change the tides of the tension between the two nations—if only one had such power.

No matter which angle you were looking at, the outcome was unfavorable. If the Eastern Region had already cemented their stance, these negotiations were doomed from the start. And to put the final nail in the coffin, it had become very apparent to everyone in the room that Princess Ayaka was ill-fit for negotiations. Perhaps she hadn’t been lying when she said she wasn’t sure why her father sent her here.

By no means was this a malicious criticism of the princess, but since her arrival something felt off. Apart from the uncomfortable conversation you had earlier with her, you had noticed how she had been anxious, unable to hide her stress, and clung to Suguru like he was her lifeline amidst this war camp. Nobody faulted her for being inexperienced in negotiations, but the impression she gave was clear—she dreaded being here, and quite frankly, completely clueless with the political happenings of both countries. A country she was marrying into no less.

What on earth was King Sato thinking? 

Surely, he must have known that his own daughter was not up for the task. 

If he genuinely wanted to increase the chances of the negotiations, he could have sent another royal envoy in her stead. One that wasn’t so skittish. 

There were far too many disadvantages stacked on top of each other. It was as if Sato was actively trying to incite a war. 

Too many coincidences could only mean one thing: it was planned.

Everyone in the council room was growing weary as Suguru explained—for the fourth time—what the envoy from the East would likely expect, and what counterpoints they were prepared to make.

Your gaze drifted to the parchment in front of Ayaka. The handwriting was immaculate, elegant even. But the words were hollow: 

Eastern Region  let them know we mean peace  our position means no harm 

It was evident that she still hadn’t grasped the crux of the issue.

You let out an internal sigh, helplessness washing over you. But there was nothing you could do. This was in General Geto’s court, not yours.

“I will step in if necessary, Ayaka-sama,” Suguru reassured her. “Please, just try your best.”

Ayaka’s spirits lifted at once, while the rest of the room exhaled a breath they’d all been unknowingly holding since the meeting began.

Suguru was gentle and patient with her, his tone never once shifting into one of annoyance. To say you weren’t a little bit aggrieved would be a lie, but you suppose it was easy for people to treat Ayaka with such attentiveness—like she was a delicate songbird. Even if she wasn’t the princess, she exuded this innocence that made people naturally feel the need and want to protect her. 

Would Suguru ever defend you if there ever came a time to?

Or would he leave you in the dust?

A part of you didn’t want to find yourself in that sort of predicament, because you had a sinking feeling what the answer would be.

“Do you have a back-up plan in mind, General Geto?” One of the council members asked. 

Suguru nodded. “Yes, but the goal is to resolve it through negotiations first.”

“Please do your best, Ayaka-sama.” Another council member practically begged. “If the negotiation is successful—it will bring about peace to both nations.”

“I’ll do my best,” Ayaka said softly, and looked at Suguru under her lashes. “With General Geto and everyone by my side, I’m sure it will go well.”

Suguru gave a small smile and nodded. 

And thus concluded the (disastrous) meeting. 

As the war council members trickled out of the strategy room one by one, Haibara called out to you, asking for a word in private. Suguru glanced over at the two of you briefly, before leaving with Ayaka who was practically glued to his side. The room now felt more spacious and breathable, unlike the bleak atmosphere just moments ago.

“A penny for your thoughts, Lady Geto?” Haibara smiled.

You let out a soft chuckle. “I only know what everyone else already knows.”

He hummed, feigning contemplation. “I’d still be interested in hearing it from you.”

“And I suppose that’s why you invited me to this meeting today.”

“Keen as ever, my lady—though that is only half the reason.”

You let out a small sigh and shook your head. “I’m afraid there’s not much I can contribute. The negotiations don’t seem favorable.”

“Is it because of…” He hesitated.

“No, that’s not even our biggest concern. But if we’re being objective, the Eastern Region has all the reason to believe our position is one of hostility—an aggressive show of power. There’s really no justifying it.”

“Yes, I had the same thought…” Haibara admitted, a hint of defeat in his voice.

“There are really only three paths forward, if we want to avoid war,” you continued, raising a finger to count them off. “One: we retract our forces. Two: we strike a genuine compromise. Or three: we launch a diplomatic assault.”

Haibara’s brows furrowed in contemplation. “When you say diplomatic assault—what are you suggesting?”

“Information is power, Haibara. It isn’t always about force or persuasion,” you said. “Hypothetically, is there anything—Suguru, the soldiers, or even you might know about the Eastern Region that could cause strain if it came to light?”

Haibara’s eyes widened. He’d always known you were intelligent, but perhaps Suguru calling you cunning wasn’t too far off the mark. It wasn’t that no one had considered resorting to blackmail, but the way you delivered it—calm and indifferent—was quite frankly, terrifying.

To be honest, you and Suguru were more alike than most realized.

He would hate to ever find himself your enemy.

If only Suguru could stop letting his fears and his need to stay in control guide every decision, Haibara had no doubt that he would have found an invaluable ally in you. Maybe he’d even come to like you.

“I suppose you and Suguru had already thought about it,” you interrupted his thoughts. 

“Unfortunately there wasn’t much intelligence we could gather,” Haibara confirmed. “It would put us in a position of distrust if we sent spies to their nation.” 

“I see.” Your fingers tapped softly on the table.

So there hadn’t been much effort to gather intel at all.

Everything felt sloppy. Rushed. Too many loose ends for a situation this critical.

It was baffling.

Not that it was Suguru’s fault—his expertise lay in battles and terrain. But for a man as keen and meticulous as him, it was surprising that he hadn’t explored this avenue. 

That he’d allowed so many openings.

Was King Sato giving Suguru a harder time than he let on?

“We’re at an impasse, then,” you said tightly.

Haibara’s shoulders slumped slightly. “I was hoping you might have a trick up your sleeve.”

“I’m… trying to respect Geto-sama’s authority. He said he had it under control.” You let out a small, dejected sigh. “And I’m no miracle worker. Even if I were to try to help now—time is not on our side.”

Truth be told, you did have a trick up your sleeve, but you couldn’t tell Haibara. You couldn’t reveal all your cards when there was still so much distrust and tension between you and Suguru. And beyond that, there were no guarantees. You didn’t want to get anyone’s hopes up. Still, every moment wasted would put you further away from the objective, you knew you had to act quickly. Not for Suguru. Not for Haibara. Not even for King Sato. But for the lives of the many innocents who would be carelessly written off as collateral in the King’s petty games.

Ideally, you’d uncover damning evidence against the Eastern Region. If not, the next best move would be to draft a well-considered compromise, something that could hold up as a peace contract, which seems to be Suguru’s contingency plan already. The only issue was—any signs of yielding would not be well-received. It would be viewed as an act of cowardice, giving up on the nation’s pride. And Suguru’s reputation would undoubtedly take a blow.

Whatever it was, time was of the essence.

After your conversation with Haibara, you left him thinking you had nothing to offer, discreetly slipping away into Yumi’s tent.

“Yumi,” you said quietly, peeking through the narrow slit of the tent flap.

“Yes, my lady?” she responded, instantly alert.

“I need your help.” You turned around, voice low. “More specifically, I need the guild’s help.”

“Of course, my lady. What is it?”

You pressed a letter into her hand. 

“Godspeed. We don’t have much time—the envoy arrives in two weeks.”

She gave a single nod, then vanished without another word.

I require information on the Eastern Region. Anything you can find. Maps, slanderous gossip, trade ledgers, hidden dealings. As long as it is verifiable. There is little time. The moon watches, Your Lady

And with that, you left the rest to fate. All you could do now was hope something turned up.

After all, the Merchant Guild never failed to answer your call.

—

Suguru walked alongside Ayaka through the campsite. He couldn’t recall the last time they'd walked so closely side by side—just the two of them. Their last encounter was at his wedding, where they exchanged pleasantries laced in pretense, and false blessings. But they both knew it was all a charade.

It hadn’t been their kindest exchange—deceitful, hurtful, tense.

Then again, when it came to Ayaka, when was he ever at ease?

Especially not after his family was killed.

He remembered how, shortly after his family’s funeral, Ayaka had come to him in private and he could never forget that conversation, because it had felt like a second funeral. She told him her father was concerned for her safety, that King Sato had forbidden her from seeing him and ordered her to remain in the palace.

At first, Suguru fell into denial. Surely, if she couldn’t come to see him much anymore, he could still visit her, right?

But no.

She clarified that her father had forbidden her to see anyone, including Suguru.

How could it be?

He had no one left after his entire family was massacred. 

He only had Ayaka and Haibara. 

And now she was saying goodbye, when he needed her the most?

How could she acquiesce so easily? Did she not love him?

He stood there, completely dumbfounded. Then she began to cry. Her tears had always been a great source of his weakness. He hated seeing those he cared about cry, but something about Ayaka’s tears especially, filled him with a special dread…

Because she was the woman he loved.

Her tears must mean that this was not what she wanted, right?

But after that rainy day, the two of them never saw each other again, at least not for another three years. Not until Suguru began to reclaim his family’s glory and worked his way back into the royal court. 

Over the years, love turned to bitter realization, and then, to silent yearning when he saw her once again.

Now, Suguru was a married man.

His original intention to marry had been a necessary step towards his goals. The marriage was to prevent King Sato from exploiting Suguru’s weakness: Ayaka. 

He married for the illusion of stability and control. And a small part of him—though he was ashamed to admit it—also married to forget the woman he could never have.

He hadn’t asked for much. As long as his wife was quiet and obedient, and kept her nose out of his business, it would’ve been manageable. Bearable, at least.

But slowly, you chipped away at that perception. And now, things were becoming complicated.

It was like he covered one problem, only to open up another.

He could even see it in the way Haibara respected you so quickly, which was no easy feat.

“I hope marriage has been treating you well.” Ayaka’s voice cut through.

“Yes. It’s more than I could have asked for.” Suguru smiled.

She paused for a moment. 

“Both you and Lady Geto said the same thing. You two must understand each other very well.”

Suguru only responded with a low hum.

“Everyone is so enthusiastic about my marriage—enough about me.” He tried to change the subject. Or perhaps he was simply trying to evade the small flutter in his chest—fleeting, but undeniable. “How was the journey? Are you tired?”

“Oh, well. It was quite alright…” 

Her voice was a melody. He had always thought that he could listen to her talk forever. But now, even as she spoke, Suguru couldn’t quite bring himself to focus.

His thoughts lingered back in the strategy room, and during the council meeting—when you quietly sat there. You wore your usual stoicism, but he could tell it wasn’t because you were bored. Rather, you were assessing, absorbing the information, and understanding the crucial details. You stayed silent the entire time, which was surprising, given your inquisitive nature. But he supposed he shouldn’t question it—you were holding up your end of the bargain, respecting his jurisdiction. 

When Haibara asked you to stay, a part of him was curious as to what the two of you were discussing in private.

A small part of him wanted to ask—wanted to stay. Wanted to know what interesting ideas the two of you would exchange.

And it didn’t escape him either. The way the banter came so easily between you and Haibara.

How it came so easily—for him to talk to you, to ask favors.

How you seemed to let your guard down around him.

How you smiled at him with amusement.

—

It had been a week since you tasked Yumi with getting in touch with the Merchant Guild. You had yet to hear anything back from her, and as each day passed, the more anxious you became, but you were good at hiding your emotions.

Especially in front of Suguru. 

Though things seemed to be rather quiet between the two of you, not all was forgiven. And… there was no telling how long this ceasefire was going to last.

“Where is your lady-in-waiting?” Suguru asked out of the blue. “I haven’t seen her with you all week.”

“I dismissed her back to the Geto estate,” you lied, eyes still on the papers sprawled across the desk. You’d spent the past few days collecting notes and drafting a proposal, just in case worse came to worst.

Suguru glanced over at you, watching you write in concentration. There was something so calm—so comforting, almost domestic, about the scene before him. Under the dim lights, with your hair slightly damp and dressed in simple camp garments, it was hard to look away. And the way your brows slightly furrowed, and how your lips silently mouthed the words you wrote. He was almost tempted to get out of bed and join you. To ask what thoughts you were chasing. But he supposed it was also just fine trying to read your lips instead to get the answers.

Haibara had relayed your private discussion to him, but at the time, it had seemed fruitless.

Or so he thought.

Until three nights ago, he’d returned late from training to find you fast asleep, the faint flicker of the oil lamp still burning. It was a small gesture, but it felt oddly comforting to not return to empty darkness. Thinking you wouldn’t notice, he’d sifted through the documents tucked away in your storage box. To his surprise, they were proposal drafts, and meticulous notes on soldier observations. Everything the troops knew about the Eastern Region, down to its most mundane details.

As he read through them, something delicate flickered inside him.

As expected, they were incredible. 

Nearly identical to what he had been planning himself.

Since then, he’d secretly stolen glances at your work. And the more he read, the more he was forced to confront the truth: he had treated you unfairly. He’d been cruel without reason. He’d silenced you because the voices in his own mind were too much to bear.

You could still keep your distance without being heartless, Haibara’s words echoed in his mind, louder this time.

Perhaps, once this was all over—once he could finally breathe again…

He’d take the initiative, and ask you for a spar.

—

The night before the Eastern envoy’s arrival…

Tomorrow was the decisive day, and it seemed a compromise was inevitable. The idea of withdrawing some of the troops would most likely not bode well with some of the council members and even King Sato, but was this inflated sense of pride worth thousands of innocent lives?

Unfortunately, Suguru already knew the answer: King Sato didn’t care. He did it simply because he could. 

Every step of the way was a test, even bestowing the King’s temporary authority onto him was a test. Sato wanted to see what his general would do when backed into a corner.

If only there was another way out. 

Suguru had never believed in miracles. Everything had always been based on merit. Nothing was given, only earned. But for once, he found himself hoping. Anything. Whether it was the Eastern Region being more lenient than they all anticipated, or Ayaka getting possessed with the spirit of a great negotiator. 

Or you. 

Perhaps you were able to come up with something. 

Yet, the thought that he had begun to place his faith in you unnerved him, followed by a sense of guilt and shame. He’d been so certain he had everything under control. His resentment toward you, his agitation, had only ever been a reaction to the truth you revealed—a truth he had always known but refused to acknowledge.

You were a storm that shattered his carefully built reality.

It was all so foreign and unsettling, because even he didn’t know when that agitation had begun to morph into intrigue.

Here he was, sitting in front of the riverbank in hopes for a quiet reflection of tomorrow's plans, but instead, he was trying to solve the conundrum that was you.

“Suguru, there you are,” Ayaka’s voice cut through his thoughts. 

“Ayaka-sama,” Suguru gave a slight nod, offering a polite smile.

“It’s just you and me, Suguru, there’s no need to be so formal.” She chuckled lightly.

He let out a quiet hum.

“Are you nervous for tomorrow?” She asked as she took a seat beside him.

“It’ll be fine,” he let out a soft chuckle. “I believe you can do it.” 

“I’m not so sure to be honest.” Ayaka bit the bottom of her lip. “Perhaps Lady Geto would make a better negotiator than me.”

“And what makes you think that?” 

“She’s just so… capable and intelligent.” 

“It’s true,” he admitted before he could stop himself. 

He had to pause for a moment to process what he had just done.

“You know—she reminds me of Hayato. The two of them probably would’ve gotten along.” Ayaka added thoughtfully. 

“Perhaps,” Suguru remarked, but he disagreed inwardly.

Hayato was the crown prince, and Ayaka’s only full sibling. From what Suguru knew of both you and him—Ayaka’s statement was a bit of a naive conclusion.

If you had ever met Hayato, Suguru knew without an inkling of doubt that you would’ve loathed the prince. You would’ve seen straight through his cruelty and deceit. And in return, Hayato would’ve loathed you, because you would’ve outshined him.

Hayato had held a particular disdain for Suguru since they were children. Suguru had bested him in a duel once, and Hayato had never quite recovered from the blow on his ego, even after fifteen years. And the disdain had only seemed to grow over the years as Suguru rose through the ranks and became the King’s general. 

It wasn’t that Ayaka was daft, but it was true that her view of the world had been vastly different. She had never known what it felt like to be on the receiving end of disdain or resentment. For all the heinous things King Sato and Hayato had done behind closed doors, they had always doted on her.

To them, she was a delicate flower, untouched by their rotten roots.

And perhaps, that’s how Suguru saw her too. 

“Would it be selfish of me to say that I don’t want this negotiation to succeed?” she asked quietly.

“I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that.” Suguru turned to her, a hint of sternness threading through his voice.

That kind of statement could be considered treason.

“I don’t want to marry their prince—I don’t want to marry anyone. If it’s not—” she stopped herself.

Suguru gritted his teeth. He knew exactly what she wanted to say.

Because he, too, had selfishly wished that things could have turned out differently. Alas, both of them were bound by the shackles of duty. Torn apart by fate. 

“I want to be with you, Suguru,” she said softly, her hand resting on his arm. “I don’t care that I’m not Lady Geto, and if I must be second—”

“Ayaka…” he began, but the words wouldn’t come.

She leaned in, closer.

“If we love each other, I can convince my father.” Her voice hushed, but desperate. “I’ll do everything I can.”

Her doll-like eyes looked into his, shimmering like the stars above. Full of life and hope. 

Just how he had always remembered it. 

His gaze drifted lower. Her lips a sinful temptation. 

But for a split second, he saw you instead.

Why did you haunt him, even at this moment?

Ayaka leans even closer, and his heart beats harder. But each beat also carried an unexpected sting. 

This was wrong. 

Yet, he found it difficult to stop.

He had always yearned for her lips on his, and he was now about to find out.

Their faces now mere inches apart, he could smell the sweetness of her breath. The warmth between their bodies—

Snap.

His head turned sharply toward the sound.

And to his horror, it was you.

…

It had not been your intention to spy on their private moment, but these past few weeks at the campsite were beginning to wear down on you.

You just wanted space, some time alone for reflection. 

To breathe.

You’d discovered the riverbank during your first week here, entirely by chance. Since then, you’d come here from time to time to clear your head. But clearly, even something as simple as that couldn’t be afforded to you, because tonight, you stumbled upon Suguru and Ayaka, sitting suspiciously close to one another.

A part of you tried to convince yourself that it was none of your business, whatever the nature of the conversation was—but you couldn’t tear your gaze away. Couldn’t ignore the betrayal curling in your gut.

Everything was abundantly clear.

Your husband still loved the princess. 

All this time, it had been evident in the way he looked at her. His gaze was soft, reverent, even. A sincere warmth that could not be faked nor replicated. A warmth that you never knew he was capable of eliciting. 

A pure, silent yearning.

An unfamiliar ache curdled in your chest, but you quickly swallowed it. The truth was bitter, and the realization stung like a slap across the face.

It wasn't specifically you that Suguru loathed.

It was the role you took.

A role that was never meant for you to fulfill.

“I… apologize,” you shakily stammered. 

Ayaka immediately shot up, horrified. “L-Lady Geto! It’s not what it looks like,” she quickly said.

The world around you spun.

Even though you knew this was all pretend, even though you never expected Suguru to love you, even though you had expected all of this.

Why did it still hurt?

You hated how flustered you were, how shame coiled around your throat like a serpent. You didn’t want to look at Suguru, because you knew if you looked at him it would confirm everything in an instant. And even worse—he would see how wounded you were.

“It’s alright, Ayaka-sama.” You tried to stay composed, but your voice quivered. “I saw nothing shameful.”

Before there was another chance for either of them to speak, you turned and walked away. 

If you stayed a moment longer, you would’ve crumbled.

…

He couldn’t believe it. 

He was a shameless dog. 

Not only did he nearly fall into temptation, but he nearly risked everything.

Had it not been you who found them, this would have certainly caused a scandal and the downfall of House Geto.

When had he fallen so far from grace?

He could barely recognize the man he had become—weak-willed, and a complete lack of control and discipline. 

“I must go.” Suguru stood abruptly.

“S-Suguru, I—” 

“I’m sorry. This cannot happen again.” His voice was curt as he turned on his heel and left.

At that moment, he couldn't care less about leaving Ayaka alone. All he knew was he wanted to find you.

Suguru moved through the campsite with perfect composure, nodding at each soldier who wished him good night. But the quieter the camp, the more frantic his mind became. His eyes searched everywhere for you as he made his way to the shared tent. 

There was no denying it, he still loved Ayaka. But something had unexpectedly taken root.

His heart might have still beat for her, but your name persistently echoed in his mind.

As his feet took him closer and closer to the tent, he began to feel anxious.

Because what could he possibly say?

Every word would only be a pathetic excuse.

But he continued to march forward, until he found himself at the entrance of the tent. On one hand, he had hoped you’d be on the other side, but on the other, he also hoped you weren’t. Manically, his wild thoughts and all the possibilities ran through his mind. He took a deep breath and a quick moment to steel himself before flipping open the fabric of the tent.

Only to be met with an empty darkness.

With each step inside, the weight of hesitation and guilt grew heavier. He lit the oil lamp, its warm golden glow spilling across the hollow space. Quietly, he sat by the bedside, eyes settling on the empty desk—the one you had occupied every night, working tirelessly on your secret proposal.

Something he had pretended not to notice.

Just like the many things about you he had pretended not to notice—pretended not to care.

Maybe this empty silence was for the better.

—

It was humiliating.

You had lost all composure and your usual tact. You weren’t even sure why you were the one running away and hiding, when it was your husband who had done something inexcusable.

But seeing Suguru and Ayaka together made you feel unclean. When they were together, it was hard not to notice—how they fit together so perfectly, like two pieces of a puzzle. They had history. They had a deep understanding of one another. And most of all, they complemented each other.

Seeing them was like witnessing what true love was. 

That rare, sacred thing everyone quietly yearned for in a world built on political transactions and hidden agendas.

You understood Ayaka’s woes, her reluctance to marry the Eastern Prince. Why did she have to—when true love was within her reach? She was just another political pawn, a victim to her greedy father.

As for Suguru, you supposed even the great Conqueror of Stars had things beyond his reach.

Like the woman he truly desired.

A tragic irony.

You sat alone in the quiet darkness of Yumi’s unoccupied tent. You hadn’t heard from her since her departure, which only made you increasingly worried.

What if she’d been injured?

Or worse, what if she ran into danger?

You hated it.

How a single moment caused you to spiral into a flurry of self-doubt.

Why did Suguru Geto have this effect on you?

Maybe you and Suguru weren’t so different after all. Both of you desired control. Both of you were prideful in your own stubborn ways. He needed control over the situation, while you clung to control over your emotions. Never wanting to falter. Never wanting to appear weak or vulnerable—because vulnerability only ever led to dire consequences.

A crack of moonlight suddenly spilled in from the open entrance of the tent.

“My lady?” Yumi’s voice called out, slightly out of breath. 

She had hurried back until the very last minute.

“Yumi!” you gasped, rushing over and pulling her into a tight embrace.

As you held her, your body trembled but you remained silent. Not wanting to burden her with your personal troubles when she had just returned from an arduous journey. Between you and Yumi, there were no words required, she just returned your silent embrace without questions. At least in this storm, there was still one person who understood you.

Her presence was all you needed to reignite your resolve.

That’s right, there was no time to wallow in despair or self-pity.

“I apologize for not being able to write,” she quietly said.

“No,” you smiled. “I’m just glad you made it back safely.”

She nodded and moved quickly toward the small desk, lighting the oil lamp. “We’ve collected everything we could.” She sprawled the papers and maps across the wooden surface, organizing everything in specific piles. “I hope this could be of use.” 

“I’m sure there’ll be something useful. I’ll fetch you something to eat from the dining hall first,” you offered, already stepping out. “You should rest afterward.”

“What about you, my lady?”

“If you don’t mind… I’d like to stay here and go through everything,” you replied softly.

“It’s a lot to sift through—it’ll take you the whole night.”

“That’s alright.” You shook your head. “You and the guild have done most of the brunt work—I should do my part as well. You have my sincere thanks.”

.

.

.

Under the cloak of night, you continued to work in silence, sifting through all the papers, and comparing maps. Yumi had long been asleep on the bed. 

Finally, for all that had transpired today, you had found a silver lining. 

Indeed, the Merchant Guild never fails.

—

It had been dawn when you finally compiled all the relevant information and explored every angle of the negotiation. You let out a small content groan as you stretched your arms. Despite the drowsiness looming over you, there would be no time to rest. If you were to close your eyes now you might oversleep and that wasn’t an option.

You stepped out of the tent for some fresh air, some soldiers already busying themselves with the day to day operations—restocking supplies, morning exercise, and kitchen duties. A few of them greeted you in passing, and you nodded, keeping your flawless composure as Lady Geto. You decided to head to the private bath house to freshen up. Being only one of the few women in the war camp, it was a rather nice perk to have a private bathing area that you didn’t have to fight over. A rare luxury in a place built for war.

Every fiber of your body relaxed as you submerged yourself into the wooden tub, the steaming water enveloping you. It was hot enough to sting your skin slightly, but that was exactly how you liked it. You let out a content sigh as your head fell back, neck resting against the edge of the tub. Staring at the wooden panels of the ceiling, you mentally reviewed all the possibilities for today’s negotiations once again. You would enter the meeting under the guise of a mere spectator, and then, when the decisive moment came, you would intervene.

The only thing now was that you hoped today would be over soon, and without too many obstacles.

.

.

.

“Y-Yumi, you’re back!” Haibara exclaimed. Surprise was evident in his face.

“Yes, Master Haibara,” Yumi replied, offering little explanation. You had advised her in advance that you lied about her absence.

Standing beside Suguru, you awaited the Eastern Region’s envoy. It felt like deja vu. It was unbelievable that it had already been two weeks since you last stood here to welcome the princess. Except this time, the group was slightly larger, with Ayaka positioned in the center, flanked by a few of her royal servants. Your head remained high and posture poised. Ayaka avoided your gaze and fidgeted nervously. Meanwhile, Suguru would glance over at you every so often, but you pretended not to notice.

As the envoy appeared in the distance, the scene felt like a battlefield, watching an enemy army encroach. The Eastern Region was known for indulgence and opulence, and their envoy clearly spared no effort to hide it. Each member traveled in an oxen-drawn carriage, while the leader rode ahead on a white stallion, draped in luxury and bearing the flag of the Eastern Region. The accessories adorning the stallion alone were far more extravagant than anything else in the camp.

“We welcome you, Chief Secretary Kawada.” Princess Ayaka smiled. 

“Thank you for your gracious invitation,” he said, quickly climbing off his horse and bowing reverently. The rest of the group followed suit. 

The introductions continued as the group exchanged surface-level pleasantries. But beneath all the niceties, the tension was palpable. Everyone here had an agenda, and now, it could only be left up to fate to see whose will be realized.

Let the negotiations commence.

—

The strategy room was tense to say the least. It had been obvious since the arrival of the Eastern envoy that they were only here to make a declaration and not so much a compromise. Their vice captain, Takeda, in particular, had been very vocal. 

Every time Takeda spoke, discomfort prickled beneath your skin. His words were abrasive, and he appeared to have little respect or regard for Princess Ayaka, which was rather insulting in a diplomatic environment. There were a few occasions when even Kawada had to gently remind him to watch his tone and temper. 

“With all due respect, Princess Ayaka,” Kawada said. “You speak of mutual respect and peace—but it’s hard to see your presence here as anything more than performative.”

The air grew tense.

“I can assure you, it is not,” she replied, voice calm. “If this were an act then—”

“We would be fools to not see through your nation’s false pretenses!” Takeda cut in. “For one—you’re already set to marry our Crown Prince. A union has been solidified, and yet your country still camps its military at our borders. If that isn’t a declaration of war, then what is?”

“You misunderstand us. If we wanted to—” Your infantry captain stepped in, his patience clearly running thin.

“If I may,” you interjected, raising a hand slightly.

This is it.

This was the moment you’d strike.

If you let that hot-headed dolt continue running his mouth, the negotiations would go up in flames.

All eyes turned to you—including Suguru, who shot you an unreadable look. It wasn’t one of his usual icy glares, but instead, almost a look of acknowledgment. Haibara stood tense beside him, slightly confused.

“I apologize for only speaking up now,” you said, offering a graceful smile. “It was not my original intention to interfere, as I was meant to merely be an observer today. But it would be a disservice to allow our two great nations to continue misunderstanding one another.”

You gestured to Yumi, who stepped forward to hand you the documents you’d prepared in advance, including detailed maps of both nations.

“I believe that, at our core, both nations want the same thing: peace. Neither of us wish for war and needless bloodshed. 

"After all, in war, it is not the kings or the kingmakers who suffer—but the innocent lives lost. People with homes, families, and futures they hope to return to.”

You sifted through your notes, unfolding the map carefully in front of you.

“However, before we can begin any true negotiation and talk of compromise, we must all be willing to meet eye to eye and build trust.

If your only goal here today is to assert your stance, then I’m afraid you’ve come only to waste everyone’s time.”

“Of course not, Lady Geto. Finally, the only one with some sense. This is all we’ve ever wanted. The Eastern Region, after all, has always been a harmonious country!”

You offered the man a small smile, though your eyes remained devoid of emotion.

There it was again—that look. 

Suguru could never forget it: the cold, calculated glint in your eyes. The same one you bore each time you were about to make a decisive move—whether it was with the sword, or with your sharp words. 

Once again, you were about to dictate the outcome of this battle.

In the small room, surrounded by a sea of people, everything else faded. He saw no one. He heard no one.

Only you.

“Excellent. First, you have my sincerest gratitude for your willingness to communicate—and for keeping an open mind,” you continued. “I’ll be the first to admit: we often become so entrenched in our own beliefs and convictions, we lose sight of what truly matters.

“Now, let us begin with the first step of trust building. Shall we?”

The Eastern envoy looked in anticipation and nodded. Beside you, Ayaka seemed to relax, her shoulders easing, while her eyes softened with relief, her gaze drifted as though she could finally breathe again.

“There’s no denying the kind of message our nation is sending by the way we’re positioned,” you continued. “It would be wrong of us to pretend otherwise, or to dismiss your concerns as baseless.”

Unfurling a map across the table, the parchment crinkled open, revealing red markings dotting the terrain—outlining the locations of military encampments.

“However,” you added, “if you believe we set up these camps solely to threaten your empire—I urge you to look again.”

The envoy studied the map carefully, brows furrowed. “I understand the point you’re making, Lady Geto. But just because you have military camps elsewhere… it doesn’t exactly disprove our claim.”

You shook your head, pointing to the specific cluster nearest to the border. “Look closer.”

“We stationed troops here not to provoke you, but to choose the lesser of two evils: risk offending your nation, or risk unrest among our own civilians.”

Your fingers smoothly traced the villages surrounding the camp. “Our current position is the ideal place. If we stationed our troops too close to the villages, it would’ve caused panic. 

“I’m sure, for the peaceful nation your country is, you can understand: people don’t sleep well if they can see banners and soldiers outside their windows.” 

Kawada slightly nodded, but you could tell that he still wasn’t entirely convinced.

“And though it may sound arrogant,” you added. “Ask yourselves this: in a full-scale war between our nations—who would truly emerge victorious? If conquest was our intent, wouldn’t we have acted long ago?”

A ripple of murmurs passed through the envoy.

“Is that a threat, Lady Geto?!” the vice captain snapped.

“A threat? Or a fact?” you replied calmly. “Think objectively, Vice Captain Takeda.”

As you observed everyone’s faces, you could see that they were still trying to hold steadfast onto their stance. It was clear that they wouldn’t be satisfied unless the troops were withdrawn—that was their only acceptable answer. You did not want to resort to this final chess piece you had in hand, but it seemed that it was inevitable since they wouldn’t yield, even after this reasonable explanation.

“Chief Secretary Kawada, there is a more pressing matter that needs to be addressed,” you said, your tone steady.

He looked at you, puzzled. But you let the silence stretch as you locked eyes with him, allowing the weight of your words to simmer.

Suguru knew that this was the moment. You had set them up right where you wanted. 

The ace was about to be revealed. 

“The Eastern Region demands trust and transparency. Then let me speak plainly.” You gave him a confident smile. “Your nation has not been forthcoming in this negotiation—you’ve been hiding a secret that could prove detrimental to us all.”

Gasps filled the room. Disbelief rippled through the air.

Even Suguru had not anticipated this. Surely, you were not one to make such baseless accusations. So it must have meant that you had received some kind of information…

But how?

Who really is the woman that he had married?

“Accusations, Lady Geto!” Kawada snapped, his fists trembling, face flushed red with anger. “Our nation has done nothing but bend over backwards for two empires that have done nothing but threaten us with conquest!”

“Then how do you explain this?” you challenged, laying out the map of the Eastern Region along with several unfamiliar documents.

“I’m sure you recognize this map?”

“Of course,” he scoffed. “It was drawn by our royal cartographer. A gift to General Geto, if I recall.”

“Correct. It was given in gratitude, after he and a handful of our soldiers selflessly defended one of your borders from a brigade of bandits.”

His brow twitched. “So what’s your point?”

You met his gaze, voice unwavering.

“Why did your nation gift my husband an incorrect map as thanks?”

Suguru’s eyes widened. This revelation wasn’t just damning—it was astonishing. As he watched everything unfold before his court, he found himself on the edge of his seat at every turn. It was absolutely chilling. Clearly, you came into this negotiation with only one outcome in mind: to win.

“Impossible!” Kawada barked. “That map came from someone in our royal court. A mistake like this would mean a deliberate political deception!”

“So you’re claiming your nation didn’t intend to mislead us?” you asked calmly.

“Of course not!” he huffed, his hands trembling. “Where is the proof of this outrageous slander?”

You gestured toward the unfamiliar documents sprawled across the table, and another map of the Eastern Region. “Please, take a look at the trade records and ledgers.”

Kawada picked one up, his brow furrowing as he sifted through the pages. Beside him, Takeda—who had been loud earlier—now stood in tense silence.

“Where did you get this?” he finally asked, scowling.

You gave a small, knowing smile. “I have reliable informants. Admittedly, I also had a hard time making sense of it at first. But once the pieces fell into place… it was terrifying.”

He skimmed further, face growing pale.

“These are… illegal weapon trades.”

“Indeed. And do you know where those weapons were being shipped to?”

His hands trembled as he scanned the ledger for details. The weapons were being shipped to a region nestled right by the border.

Stamped with none other than the Eastern King’s royal seal.

“Convenient, isn’t it?” you said coolly. “Had I not known better, I’d almost believe your nation was quietly plotting our demise. Illegal weapons, routed to a border region—conveniently missing from the map you so graciously gifted us.”

This newfound information unraveled a whole string of conspiracies and political tension. The room fell awfully quiet, you could almost hear a pin drop. Pressure from the existing tension was about to reach its breaking point, it was only a matter of time before someone cracked—

“Preposterous! How dare the Eastern Region make a mockery of us!”

“You hypocrites,” someone else snapped. “You show up here all high and mighty—preaching about trust and honor, insulting our princess—only to be plotting a preemptive strike?!”

“I swear we know nothing of this—” Kawada defended.

“General Geto, we must apprehend them. Now.” 

“That’s right, General Geto, the evidence is there! They are clearly guilty!”

“If we don’t act now, they might return home and start a war!”

“Enough,” Suguru said, his voice cutting sharp through the air.

The room fell silent. Hands hovered over weapons. Hostility crackled like lightning in a storm, only a breath away from bloodshed.

Suguru raised a hand to gesture to his soldiers to stand down. His voice was low and deadly. “I suggest you explain yourselves—quickly. Before my patience runs dry and I have no choice but to detain you for conspiring against our nation.”

“I-It’s true that the map you have is incorrect, General Geto.” Kawada had lost all confidence; his voice trembled.

Your eyes flicked toward Takeda, who had gone deathly quiet. He looked pale—like he’d just seen a ghost.

He knows something. 

But the room was too volatile for a direct confrontation. You had to think fast. 

How to get them to reveal the truth themselves?

Your eyes met Suguru’s. He was already watching you and gave a small, almost imperceptible nod.

“Then how do you explain your King’s endorsement of these illegal trades?” You pressed.

“I swear on our good nation’s honor, our King would never do such a thing!” Kawada sputtered, flipping through the ledgers like he might find a reasonable answer hiding between the lines. “Our King loathes war—he has always abhorred bloodshed. More than anyone in this room.”

You didn’t respond to him. Instead, your eyes stayed fixed on the vice captain.

“Are you suggesting your King’s seal was forged?” Your voice was calm, measured, but everyone in the room could feel the blade beneath it.

“It… it could be possible—”

“A possibility is not good enough,” Suguru cut in, voice sharp. “Was it forged, or not?”

The envoy looked around at one another, clearly rattled. Their confusion said it all: they didn’t know.

All except one.

Taking a steady breath, you gestured lightly to the documents. “Chief Secretary Kawada, you should be familiar with your King’s seal, no? 

“If this was forgery, then I implore you—look closely. Compare it to a verified mark. Spot the difference. This is no time to cower when your nation’s honor is at stake.”

“Y-Yes… of course, Lady Geto.” He squinted closer at the page, his hands visibly shaking.

Everyone in the room held their breath as they watched him scramble—fumbling at first, before finally pulling himself together. He leaned over the table, retrieving a magnifying glass to examine the seal in greater detail.

“T-There is something… indeed wrong with the seal,” he admitted at last.

Excellent. This was the confirmation you needed.

“Tell us,” you commanded.

He turned the ledger toward you, angling the magnifying glass so you could see for yourself.

“It’s difficult to tell with the naked eye, Lady Geto,” he said, guiding his stubby finger toward the corner of the royal seal. “But here—in the character for His Majesty’s name—there’s a consistent defect across all these ledgers. A chip, most likely caused by poor craftsmanship.”

“I see,” you murmured. “It would be quite the insult to your King to present himself with such a poorly made seal.”

“Y-Yes, you are most understanding, my lady—” the envoy leader looked like he might sag with relief.

“But that's not good enough, I’m afraid.”

He wilted in his seat, the relief dissipated as quickly as it came. Kawada was clearly in distress—sweating, trembling, utterly defeated. For a moment, you almost pitied the middle-aged man. He looked as though the stress had aged him a decade. It was almost unbelievable that a diplomatic envoy could crumble this easily at a single obstacle—albeit a scandalous one—perhaps the Eastern Region’s “defenselessness” wasn’t just political rhetoric after all.

“Do you have a verified copy of your King’s legitimate seal to prove this is a forgery?” you asked. At this point, you were like a teacher guiding their pupil to the answers.

“Yes!” The envoy leader confirmed. He procured a scroll embellished with golden silk. An official letter from their King, originally meant to condemn the establishment of The Eastern Campsite. “Please, compare the seal, Lady Geto!” His voice bordered on a desperate plea.

As you examined the two side by side, the discrepancy was clear. The forged seal looked as though it had been carved from a low-grade, porous stone. The ink hadn’t fully taken, small white dots broke up the lines, as if the material couldn’t properly absorb or distribute the ink. In contrast, the King’s legitimate seal had a clean, crisp border. Each character in his name was sharp and smooth, a sign of fine craftsmanship, chiseled from a high-quality stone.

“It seems the Eastern Court has more dire matters to address, then,” you mused, glancing up at Kawada.

“Indeed, Lady Geto,” he exhaled, shoulders sagging. “If it hadn’t been for you—we would’ve never realized such a despicable thing was happening right under our noses!”

Victory was within reach, but not quite claimed yet.

They can’t just walk away thinking that this is all water under the bridge. After all, you were the one who discovered this crime and saved them from potential disaster.

“And how does the Eastern Region intend to rectify this broken trust?” You looked up at Kawada.

“We’ll send word to our King at once,” he declared. “He will issue a decree to withdraw all protests regarding the campsite.”

You hummed, unfazed. “I wonder who in your court would be so bold as to orchestrate this? Is that not a concern for both our nations?”

“Lady Geto is right!” one of your council members echoed. “Now that it’s come to light your region exploited our trust, do you think we’ll just be satisfied with a measly cease letter?!”

“I-I assure you, our good neighbor, we will rectify this!” one of the Eastern representatives stammered. “Our King is fair and reasonable—he will ensure this never happens again!”

“What does this have to do with the Eastern Region anyway?! We haven’t set up campsites on your land! It’s none of your business what we do—”

The room soon erupted into chaos. All courtesy was gone, only insults and venomous words hurled at the Eastern envoy, while they scrambled to defend themselves. But your eyes remained fixed on Takeda as you quietly sat there, like a hunter locked on its prey.

Good. Let tension bear its fangs. Let chaos fester just a little longer.

Let them beg for mercy.

He was about to break at any moment—

“Your wretched nation deserves to be taken down,” Takeda snapped, his entire body trembling with rage. “It should be your lands ravaged and burned—your innocent civilians slaughtered!”

The room went deathly silent.

“Takeda, what are you—”

“Our King is a coward!” Takeda yelled, eyes wild as he turned to Ayaka and pointed at her with a shaking hand. “He thinks marrying his son off to a tyrant’s daughter will bring about peace?! It’s time you all wake up! That power-hungry bastard will take our land, it’s only a matter of time!”

It finally dawned on you. 

His hatred. His sharp words. His resistance. The animosity you’d felt from him all along. 

This level of deception and corruption must have been supported by someone of power. Someone whose life was consistently on the line for the country would hold a type of pride for their nation, and wished for their glory.

Someone like Vice Captain Takeda of the Eastern Region’s royal army would have fit the profile. 

“Keep your mouth shut, Takeda!” one of the Eastern members hissed. “Do you want us to go to war?!”

As tensions rose, you looked at Takeda's face and what you saw next caused the blood to drain from your face. Because you realized only a second too late, that you had gravely miscalculated one thing: 

His desperation.

Everything that followed happened too fast.

In a last-ditch effort, Takeda drew his sword and lunged at you and Princess Ayaka.

All attention snapped toward Ayaka—including Suguru’s. His body moved before his mind could catch up, shielding Ayaka with instinctive urgency, and in turn, leaving you exposed and defenceless.

The strategy room combusted into chaos.

In an act of self-preservation, your bare hand shot up, seizing the blade aimed at your throat as Takeda pinned you down.

Takeda was a breath away from cutting it clean open.

“This is all your fault!” He snarled. “Had you not stuck your nose into our nation’s business, I wouldn’t have to kill you!”

“My lady!” Yumi’s scream pierced through the noise.

There was no pain, adrenaline coursed through your veins numbing all thoughts and sensation, only fueled by a primal desperation to survive. Blood trickled steadily, the blade slicing through skin, muscle, and tendon.

You were going to lose something.

Your life—or your hand.

“What are you doing?! Have you lost your mind, Takeda?!” The Eastern representative yelled, voice shaking in disbelief. 

Ayaka screamed and curled in on herself, eyes wide with horror as she saw your blood and your death just inches away. Her scream grounded Suguru back to reality, and that was when the horror of the moment had sunk in.

You were about to die.

Something inside him broke.

He lunged at Takeda, tackling him to the ground. In doing so, he ripped the blade clean from your grip, deepening the gash across your palm.

You gasped in pain, certain that your hand was gone. 

Suguru drew his own sword and pressed it on Takeda’s throat—beads of blood began to form beneath the blade’s edge.

“Kill me,” Takeda taunted Suguru under his breath. “That’s all your country is good for anyway.”

Suguru grunted and pressed the blade deeper with controlled strength, but control was fraying at the seams. The voices in his mind telling him to kill, kill, KILL.

“Please, General Geto—spare him!” one envoy representative begged. “Let the Eastern Region deal with him!”

“Give me one good reason to let any of you live,” Suguru seethed.

The tension in the air was so thick it suffocated. Suguru seemed to have lost all reason and control, being one wrong move away from setting off an entire war and ruining everything that you had worked hard to ascertain.

Haibara stepped in, the lone voice of reason amid the chaos. 

“Detain Takeda and the envoy. Someone escort Princess Ayaka back to her quarters immediately,” he ordered.

“We’re innocent—”

“It is detainment or death.” Haibara’s voice cut like steel.

The war council officers moved at once: one guided Ayaka out; while others hauled the envoy toward the detention unit.

“Geto-sama, justice will be served,” he said, steady but urgent. “But you must let him go.”

Suguru was still pinned on top of Takeda, eyes feral.

Kill him.

Give him death.

The voices grew louder and more persistent in his mind. 

KILL HIM.

No mercy.

Reclaim control.

Make an example out of him. 

Incite war. 

Show them you are not WEAK.

Do not give your enemies mercy—

“Think of your wife!” Haibara snapped.

The trance broke. 

Suguru’s gaze flew to you. Yumi cradled you, blood slickening her hands and saturating your clothes, your breath shallow and looking closer to death by the second. He rushed to you instantly. The others tackled Takeda away as Suguru tore fabric from his robe and wrapped it tightly around your hand. Without wasting another moment, he scoops you up in his arms.

“Call a physician to our quarters—now,” he commanded. 

As he rushed you to the quarters, for the first time ever, he had called you by your name. 

Everything will be alright. He murmured, as his heart pounded violently against his chest.

—

By the time Suguru laid you on the bed, you were extremely lightheaded.

“Where is he?” he barked, tension sharp in his voice.

“He is coming, Geto-sama,” Haibara tried to assure.

“He’s not coming fast enough,” Suguru snapped. “Must I break his legs and drag him here myself?”

Everyone in the room froze, unsettled. The atmosphere was charged with urgency, but your vision was beginning to blur. The cloth wrapped around your wound was completely saturated, dripping at the seam. 

At last the physician burst through the flap, breathless. “My apologies for the delay—”

Everyone blinked when Princess Ayaka slipped in behind him.

“I’m sorry,” she said, out of breath. “I wanted to be sure Lady Geto was all right, so I stopped the physician on the way…”

Suguru’s jaw clenched, annoyance flickering across his face.

“May I, Lady Geto?” The physician extended his hand as he took a seat at the bedside, wasting no further time. 

“I only want Yumi here,” your voice cracked, unable to focus as you allowed the physician to see your wound.

The physician looked hesitantly to the group behind him, giving them a nod. 

“Let’s respect Lady Geto’s wishes,” Haibara acquiesced. 

Suguru lingered, reluctant. Ayaka mirrored his movements, eyes still fixed on him—until Haibara let out a frustrated sigh and shoved them both out of the tent.

Once they were gone, you exhaled slightly.

The physician began his work. You winced as he carefully peeled the blood-soaked cloth from your palm, which had already begun to stick to your skin.

“This is a serious wound.” The physician murmured.

He started with the disinfection, which burned like molten lava. You wanted to scream but bit your tongue, forcing yourself into silence.

Not because it didn’t hurt.

But because the betrayal coupled with the vulnerability hurt even more. 

They did not deserve to witness your unravel.

After the disinfection, the physician handed you a thick cloth.

“If you require this, my lady,” he said gently.

You knew what was next: sutures. 

You were somewhat versed in the medical procedures, thanks to the books you have read growing up. You watched as he took a curved needle out from his satchel, disinfected it over a flame, and then carefully threaded silk through it.

“Please bear through the pain, my lady—you are very brave,” Yumi murmured.

Stuffing the cloth in your mouth, you braced yourself as the needle pierced your skin. Every stitch felt like glass, slicing deeper than the wound itself. By the sixth stitch, you couldn’t take it anymore—your muffled cries slipped past the cloth, tears rolled down your cheek, cold sweat coating your skin.

“Yumi, please—help stabilize our lady!” the physician called out.

Yumi held you close, gently whispering into your ear, “Just a little more. It’ll be over soon.”

The rest of the procedure dragged on like a cruel eternity. Bloodied fabric littered the floor by the end, and you lay still—eyes hollow and glazed over, body trembling from exhaustion. The searing pain had dulled into something distant, cold, and numb.

“I will inform General Geto that the procedure is complete,” the physician said, bowing slightly. “Please apply this herbal salve to help prevent infection and ease the pain. Though…with a wound that deep, the salve will probably do little to ease the pain.”

“Thank you,” Yumi replied, accepting the small container in her hands.

The physician gestured toward the tent’s entrance, and immediately, Suguru, Haibara, and Ayaka stepped in. You were too disoriented to really acknowledge them.

“How’s my wife?” Suguru asked.

Wife. What a funny thing to call you now.

“It’s a stroke of luck she didn’t lose her hand, General. The wound was deep—it cut through the tendons.”

Suguru tried to remain composed, but his worry bled through every word, every breath. He was no stranger to wounds and injury, so he understood the severity of your condition.

It was almost laughable that it took nearly losing your hand to finally draw some emotion from him.

He may not be heartless but he was very much close to it.

“I’ve given Yumi a salve for infection,” the physician continued. “Though with a wound that deep, the pain will be difficult to manage. Lady Geto will have to endure it.”

“And how long will recovery take?”

“Weeks, at the earliest—assuming there’s no infection. But…” The physician hesitated. “I’m afraid, even once it heals, her hand will likely never regain full function.”

“N-No!” Yumi gasped, covering her mouth in shock.

Silence fell over the tent like a heavy curtain. Thick with guilt and regret.

But you? You just stared at the roof of the tent. Hopeless. Numb.

You felt empty.

…

Suguru thought he would never feel such a thing again: regret.

The last time he had felt it was when he woke up in Haibara’s home, after a three-day coma from life-threatening injuries, and was told he had been the only one to survive.

He regretted surviving. He regretted not dying with his family.

He still remembered it vividly. That day, he had an argument with Sayuri and said something harsh, which ended with her running off in tears. It had something to do with her coming-of-age ceremony—her formal debut into society.

She had said something careless, something sure to break their mother and father’s hearts: I don’t want to marry. I’ll stay here with you, Mother, and Father.

Suguru’s immediate reaction hadn’t been one of understanding. Instead, he thought she was being spoiled—sheltered by the way everyone, including himself, doted on her. He assumed she was simply afraid of the responsibilities that came with marriage.

At the time, he could never have imagined why Sayuri was so determined not to marry.

.

.

. 

“Not everyone is fortunate like you, nii-sama,” Sayuri said. 

“Whatever do you mean?” Suguru scowled, slightly offended that she’d chalked his achievements up to luck. His own sister, of all people, should’ve known the blood, sweat, and tears he had poured into getting to where he was.

“Because you and Ayaka-sama love each other,” she replied, fidgeting with the hem of her sleeves. “You two will be just like Mother and Father—I know it.”

Suguru sighed, though he couldn’t help the slight heat creeping up his ears and the way his heart skipped a beat at the imagery. Ayaka had always reminded him of the cherry blossom that stood in the Geto Estate garden. She was lovely in all the ways he’d ever wanted in a woman—graceful, good-natured, well-mannered, gentle with her speech. In addition, she was good at calligraphy and dance.

“It’s not that simple,” he said, shrugging off the tiny hopefulness in his chest. “I don’t even know if she’ll accept my proposal.”

“She will. How could she not, when she loves you too?” Her eyes narrowed. 

“I’m… jealous to be honest—that you could come to know what love is. How can I marry a man whom I do not love—?”

“Father and I will make sure he’s worthy of you,” Suguru said, genuinely believing it would bring her peace. “You’ll grow to love him in time.”

“You don’t understand,” she mumbled. “It’s not about what he’s worthy of. I want to love someone because I chose him. Not because it’s expected.”

“Sayuri,” he said firmly. “You should trust Father’s judgment—if not mine. He would never give your hand to someone you couldn’t respect. You will be happy, I’m sure of it.” His gaze dropped back to his studies—a quiet signal for his younger sister to cease this foolish talk and bother him another time.

Her fingers twisted in the fabric of her sleeves. “You don’t understand my feelings at all, nii-sama.”

He clicked his tongue, a slight annoyance creeping up. “You’re not seeing things clearly right now. You’ve always been too sheltered and spoiled—”

“I’m not sheltered and spoiled!” she cried. “If anything, you’re the one who’s sheltered. Always stuck between books, training with Father, or courting Ayaka-sama! Your path is set for you, all you ever have to do is claim it!” 

“That’s not true—”

“I don’t want to hear it! You’re so unfair—you expect me to understand you, but you can never do the same for me!”

Her outburst took Suguru aback. He looked at her, stunned, as she sprinted out of the office sobbing. Guilt gnawed inside his stomach, but he restrained himself from chasing after her. If he went to apologize to her right now, she would never grow up—she would never see reason. 

He supposed he ought to make amends with her, but he would do it later.

Little did he know, that was the last time he ever spoke to her.

.

.

.

Regret was always so cruel.

Its maws sank deep into your very soul and fester like a parasite, until you become one with it. 

As Suguru looked at your injured hand—your swordhand, he was wracked with that all-consuming regret.

He didn’t dare to imagine what was going inside your mind at this very moment. 

“The soldiers are all waiting at the dining hall,” Ayaka quietly broke the silence. “Perhaps we should go first and let Lady Geto rest—” 

“I will go,” you declared.

Even in this moment, you were committed to playing the part. Or perhaps, your pride would not allow Suguru or Ayaka to have this… especially not at the expense of your injury.

“But Lady Geto, you must recover from your injury.” The princess tried to counter. 

“As you said, Ayaka-sama,” you smiled, but this time—it was not the usual graceful smile you so easily donned on. It was a cold warning. “Everyone is waiting. I do not wish for them to worry for my sake.” 

You slid off the bed, everyone, including Yumi, watched you with concern. Suguru reflexively tried to take your hand, but you swatted it away as you headed towards the entrance of the tent. 

Everyone froze—stupefied. 

“I thought everyone was waiting, or were they not?” you said, never once looking back.

—

In the dining hall, the chatter and warmth of the space resumed—a shift from the grim atmosphere earlier. Everyone bombarded you with well-wishes and their sympathies, enough to make your head spin and ruin what little appetite you had left.

You sat beside Suguru on one side, while Ayaka sat on the other. The table was filled with other high-ranking soldiers.

“I heard that bastard targeted both Ayaka-sama and Lady Geto.” One of the soldiers seethed. 

“He has no honor! Attacking two women like that.” Another rebuked.

Normally, you would’ve tuned into the banter even if there wasn’t much to say, but it was difficult to focus. Instead, you took your spoon in your working hand, slowly scooping rice into your mouth, careful not to embarrass yourself.

“My father will hear of this and Takeda will be dealt with accordingly,” Ayaka reassured the soldiers.

From your peripheral vision, you noticed Suguru’s hand move. He placed a piece of fish into your bowl. It was the best cut, too. That small, thoughtful gesture, however, only served to heighten your resentment, because you knew it was only for optics. 

Even now, it seemed like your injury was being used to bolster his reputation as a loving husband.

"I detest it when someone puts food into my bowl," you said quietly, just loud enough for him to hear. You kept your gaze ahead, posture steady, a polite smile fixed on your lips. "Do not do it again."

For the first time, he was on the receiving end of your animosity, and he couldn’t fault you. But he understood the true message behind your words: I do not want your sympathy.

“Yes, you must let King Sato know; only he can bring swift justice for Lady Geto!” one of the captains tried to advocate for you.

“You have my word,” Ayaka nodded. “After all, it was thanks to General Geto that I was out of harm’s way. I must make it up to Lady Geto.” She looked at Suguru with a small reassuring smile.

“Please, Ayaka-sama, there is no need for you to do anything for your general’s wife,” you smirked. “General Geto, is an honorable soldier first. Despite his devotion to his wife, he cast his personal feelings aside to fulfill his royal duties by protecting your Highness. I am sure that any of our loyal soldiers here would have done the same.”

Some soldiers nodded and hummed in agreement. Yes, yes—we would have definitely done the same.

“Geto-sama is a good man.” You thoughtfully added. “A man that I take pride in calling my husband.” 

“Oh my, Lady Geto! Such praises!”

“They are simply truths,” you shook your head and smiled. “After all that my husband has sacrificed, I have little to offer in return—save for my unwavering devotion.”

You scooped up the piece of fish he had placed in your bowl and ate it, forcing a look of gratitude onto your face, even though it tasted like bitter dirt.

Indeed, you had never thought you would become such a proficient liar. But it seemed, being Lady Geto had shaped you into a deceitful monster.

—

Suguru didn’t stay long in the dining hall. During your silent walk to dinner, Haibara had excused himself and never joined—but you were too caught up in your own anger at the time to ask where he was going. Haibara came about an hour after dinner started and whispered something into Suguru’s ear. The two men politely excused themselves and disappeared for the rest of the night.

“There are some matters I need to attend to.” Suguru cleared his throat, giving his captains a knowing nod.

Shortly after that, Ayaka seemed to have fallen uninterested in the dinner altogether, and as the one in charge of her stay here, you had to acquiesce and escort her back to her tent when she decided to excuse herself as well. 

“It has been a long day. Unfortunately, I am feeling rather exhausted and must excuse myself,” she said.

Of course, everyone enthusiastically bid her good night. 

As you escorted her quietly back to her tent, she said one thing that struck you as peculiar. 

“You are indeed most fortunate, Lady Geto… to have someone like Suguru.” With that, she retreated into her tent—without sparing you another glance.

Fortunate. You scoffed. 

Ayaka knew nothing of what she spoke of. 

Then again, if Suguru had treated you the way he treated her—you suppose you, too, would have fallen for the man he was.

How daunting.

Everyone around you spoke as if they knew everything, but you had come to learn: the louder they were, the less they usually knew.

But for now, there was nothing left to do but return to your own quarters.

…

The pain was unbearable, pulsing through the entire night. The medicine prescribed by the physician did little to ease the pain, because no remedy could soothe the pain of anguish.

You looked over to find your bed empty, the tent was dark, but Suguru was nowhere to be found. 

Then again, what did you expect? 

Perhaps he was right, perhaps somewhere deep in your heart you expected more from this marriage—from him. 

But was it so wrong? 

Was it wrong to try to make this work?

Was it wrong to want to survive?

You rolled out of the bed, and made your way out the tent. 

Even the usual warmth of the summer night had disappeared. The slight breeze nipped at your skin. The entire camp also seemed to have quieted, perhaps because the outcome was peace.

You quietly drifted around camp, until you found yourself at an open grass field with a slight hill, infinite stars littered the clear night sky. Slowly, you made your way up to the peak of the hill, as the lush grass gently caressed your ankles. As you got to the top, you found the perfect spot and sat there, staring up—admiring the beauty of the night, rather than the ugliness of your reality. You weren’t sure how long you sat there, until…

“Unable to sleep, Lady Geto?” Haibara’s voice called out from behind.

“Haibara, you’re still awake.” You softly said. 

He smiled as he approached with a knowing gaze. “There was some business I had to conclude with Geto-sama,” he said, then paused—a slight hesitation lingered. “Do you mind if I join you?”

“Of course not.” You gestured to the empty space beside you.

He took the empty spot beside you, but still ensured there was a respectable distance. 

“Does it… hurt?” There was a pang of sympathy in his voice.

“Yes, but the pain is only temporary.” You replied, though you weren’t sure if you were trying to convince him or yourself.

Melancholy lingered in the air. Haibara’s usual chipper demeanor was gone. It was as if he knew you were lying—putting on a brave front. Because the woes of the heart were never temporary. 

“I…” he hesitated again. “I hope you can find it in you to forgive Suguru.”

It was the first time seeing Haibara like this—wavering, awkward, uncertain.

He let out a deep exhale. “I can assure you, he is dwelling in a lot of regret.” 

Your eyes remained fixed on the sky. On one hand you knew better than to resent Haibara for appealing on behalf of Suguru, but on the other, an undeniable bitterness also overcame you.

Because he asked for understanding and mercy without knowing what it had cost you.

No one knew anything, except for Yumi.

Nobody knew how this injury jeopardized everything. 

Your future.

Your freedom.

Your purpose.

How dare they offer their sympathies and apologies so ignorantly? 

“I apologize, my lady,” Haibara said. “Perhaps I have overstepped my line—”

“You are a good friend, Haibara,” you said evenly. “Geto-sama is fortunate to have someone like you by his side. However, your words and his regret mean nothing to me.”

There was a brief pause. 

“His regret lies in the fact that he failed. It’s not for me that he dwells in remorse. But maybe this is the wake-up call he needs.” 

Your eyes slightly shifted over to him.

“Arrogance and his unrelenting need for control will be his downfall. He’s lucky he wasn’t the one to suffer this time—and luckier still that the wife he despises took the blow instead.”

“My lady…” Haibara’s voice was quieter than usual. “I understand. I apologize for my ignorance.”

You frowned, but the darkness of the night shadowed your sorrow. 

If only Suguru had even a fraction of Haibara’s emotional intelligence. 

If only Suguru hadn’t been so arrogant.

If only Suguru had chosen someone else—

“You are very brave,” he said.

Brave. You weren’t sure if that was an accurate depiction, because since the start of this marriage you hadn’t exactly felt like yourself. You had never felt more lost, isolated, and confused.

“Courageous, maybe.” You replied, slightly caught off guard by the sudden remark. “But not brave.”

“Aren’t they the same?”

“No.” You shook your head. “Bravery is without fear… perhaps someone like Geto-sama will fit that description. Courage is in spite of fear.” 

“Ever introspective, my lady.” Haibara smiled, just a little. “But you might be surprised to learn then—Geto-sama doesn’t quite fit the description of bravery either.”

You weren’t sure how long the two of you continued to sit there in silence, but as time passed it was rather… comforting. In the beginning, you were adamant about labeling Haibara as Suguru’s right-hand man, but the more you spent time with him the more you realized—he had a good conscience. And perhaps, he was the grounding compass that Suguru needed. Perhaps he was a big reason why someone like Suguru—who was so emotionally inept and troubled—had not gone off to the brink yet.

As you made your way back to the tent, you ran into Suguru. His eyes were dark and hollow, and his clothes were stained with blood.

Something about his demeanor felt different, more frayed than his usual coldness. His mouth parted slightly, as if he wanted to speak. But you gave him no chance, turning and disappearing into the tent.

Suguru had finally realized what it meant to not be in control. He wanted to make things right, but he had no idea how to fix something that was now irreparable. 

You had consistently upheld your end of the bargain. In fact, you had helped him when it mattered the most, despite the many times he had cast you away. 

Had it not been for you today, the negotiations would have gone a lot different. War might have broken out. Countless lives may have been lost all because of King Sato’s petty games. But it was because of you, the two nations have avoided unnecessary bloodshed. 

Because of you, his soldiers were able to return home to their families. 

Because of you, his reputation still remained intact.

Had things gone according to plan—would he still feel this remorse over how he treated you?

Was this guilt truly about you, or just his way of trying to absolve himself?

Whatever it was, he knew one thing that was certain: he’d reached the point of no return. 

The doors to reconciliation were closed. The chance to build an alliance was gone. He would never get the opportunity to spar with you—to truly know you. 

The affliction he had caused ran too deep.

This was all his undoing.

—

Following the incident, the country now had leverage over the Eastern Region. Repercussions were expected, and the envoy from the East had been immediately expelled from the camp—ordered to return back to their borders by sunset, or be detained as prisoners of war. The only one who remained was Takeda, who turned out to be a radical loyalist, driven enough to scheme in secret for over two years

A few days later…

The Eastern Region’s King had issued a formal apology for Vice Captain Takeda who had gone rogue. To prove that this wasn’t part of the premeditated plan, their King sentenced Takeda to death, and granted General Geto the right to carry out the execution.

As the sun began to set, Suguru stood in the execution arena, staring down at the man seated before him.

Death by poison had been decreed.

An excruciating, agonizing way to die.

Suguru watched as the man choked on his own blood, convulsing violently on the floor. Watched as the poison tore through him. Watched as the light drained from his eyes. Not once did Suguru look away. He forced himself to witness every second—his face unmoved, cold, and unreadable.

But inside was a tempest.

His arrogance led to this failure, but it wasn’t him who was punished—it was you.

Word spread quickly across the camp and the royal court. Peace had been secured, not by Princess Ayaka, but by none other than Lady Geto. Not only that, but King Sato could now exploit this incident, and leverage it against the Eastern Region.

With that, the King summoned the Princess back home—satisfied with the outcome of events. And so concluded House Geto’s work in the Eastern Campsite, granting them permission to return home.

Somehow, you had found yourself in the political spotlight not just as General Geto’s wife, but as the woman who had brokered peace between two regions and avoided bloodshed, earning the King’s favor.

This had never been what you wanted. 

You had only wanted to survive a marriage that was stacked against your favor. 

But at what cost?

Writing © xechu - please do not redistribute, translate, or repost any of my works.

Taglist: @katsukiseyebrows @uzuimirika @saoirses-things @what-just-happened-to-me @exitingmusic @vellichor01

[lavrneryo]

[Honor & Vengeance] S. Geto - 夏油 傑

Pairing: general!suguru x fem!reader Word Count: 9k Series Warnings: please read my blog rules before interacting. 18+ mdni, explicit sexual content, depiction of gore and violence, mature themes Chapter Warnings: mature themes, emotional angst, brief description of violence, allusion to repressed trauma, performative affection/dubcon Tags: historical au, non-curse au, marriage of convenience, slow burn, enemies to lovers, smut, angst, hurt/comfort Summary: your arrival at the Eastern Campsite brings the current political tensions of two nations to light. Behind closed doors, the civil war between you and your husband continues... until sickness, duty, and quiet realizations slowly bring the two of you together. But will this fragile understanding come to last? a/n: Wow, it's been a while since the last chapter - thank you all so much for being so patient, kind, and supportive with this series. 'The Eastern Campsite Incident' arc is going to be a bit lore-heavy and therefore, longer than my usual chapters. The next chapter will be out on Jun 20th! I hope you enjoy and thank you so much for reading! x

Master List: << chapter 3 | chapter 5 (to be continued) >>

[Chapter 4]: The Eastern Campsite Incident (Pt. 1)

Midway through the journey to the Eastern Campsite, the skies grew darker. The group was headed straight into the eye of the storm. Light, misty drizzle gradually turned into a relentless downpour. A crack of thunder roared through the air as though an ominous welcome, a forewarning considering how rare it was for storms like this to hit during the summer.

“We’re not too far away from the site. We press on,” Suguru commanded. The soldiers all replied with a firm yes, not missing a single beat.

Without hesitation, Suguru stripped off the outer layer of his uniform and gently draped it over your head. He muttered something about not wanting you to catch a cold as he adjusted it to make sure you were well-covered. You mumbled a quiet thank you in return, clutching the black silk close. His natural scent clung to the fabric, subtle but undoubtedly his, which almost made the whole exchange feel a little too intimate. 

Like you were truly his wife.

It was moments like this that made it hard to tell if it was purely for appearances, or something else entirely. But you’d conditioned yourself to always assume it was just for appearances when it came to Suguru. You couldn’t afford to get let down by hope and expectations.

It had never been your intention to villainize your husband, no matter how unideal the circumstances were. Still, it would’ve been a lie to say you hadn’t come to resent him. Behind closed doors, he’d done nothing but make you feel less than a person. These past few days of forced proximity, however, offered an opportunity for quiet observations, a chance to know him from a distance.

Suguru was good at hiding his feelings; that much was obvious. He was painfully aware of appearances, so much so it felt more like a burden than a blessing. But no matter how good someone was at playing the game of pretense, they couldn’t wear the mask forever. Sooner or later, their true nature would show in small things, such as the subconscious habits they couldn’t quite hide.

You had quickly learned that your husband greatly valued competence, in the way his eyes would ever so subtly light up when someone proposed an intriguing thought or clever solution. He was surprisingly patient with his comrades. On the second night of the journey, a soldier offered to play a game of Go with him, and while he took a little longer than most to make a move, Suguru quietly waited—a stark contrast to his curt attitude towards you. 

Another observation—a slightly more amusing one—was that he didn’t seem to enjoy drinking. His jaw would tense ever so slightly after each sip, like a child forced to take medicine. He also had a rather low tolerance. In hindsight, that explained why he hadn’t drunk much during the wedding.

Last night, he’d had a bit too much, and everyone had teased him about it, everyone except you and Yumi, who sat quietly and watched the spectacle unfold. When you finally sat him down in the shared tent, he mumbled something along the lines of why did you lose on purpose, which confused you, but you wrote it off as the ramblings of a drunk man.

For a noble, he was also very adept in hunting and survival skills. It appears what they said about him was true: Suguru had always been a soldier first. 

Above all, you recognized that his title of the King's General was rightfully earned and not bestowed due to nepotism. He had the remarkable skills and merit to back it up.

In all honesty, it was easier to label your husband as a tyrant. But deep down, you had a feeling he wasn’t fundamentally malicious, just deeply burdened. Whatever those burdens were, you weren’t certain. The only thing you were certain about was that he’d most likely rather die on the battlefield than let you in.

—

It wasn’t long before you arrived at the Eastern Campsite. Despite the storm, the place was buzzing with activity. Soldiers scurried across the muddy ground, each step squelching against the saturated soil, while others busied themselves with operational duties or training drills.

There was truly no rest for the wicked.

However... this was not exactly what you expected to arrive at.

The campsite was massive. In fact, massive might be an understatement. Rows of tents stretched across the terrain in perfect formation, with divisions scattered across nearly every corner of the area. There were soldiers everywhere.

More than enough men to start a war.

The contradiction was glaring. But before you could fully take it in, a wave of excited soldiers came swarming in. They surged forward, eager to greet the return of their great General, but more so curious to finally meet Lady Geto, the one who had captured their General’s heart.

“It is an honor to meet you, Lady Geto!” one of the soldiers exclaimed.

“Thank you for the warm welcome,” you replied with a polite nod.

“Just knowing we have House Geto’s support has lifted everyone’s spirits.” another added.

“My presence here is nothing compared to the sacrifices you’ve all made,” you said earnestly. “But if there’s anything I can do to ease your burdens—even in a small way—please don’t hesitate to ask.”

A brief silence followed. The soldiers exchanged glances, their expressions unreadable.

Had you said something wrong? 

Just as the feelings of doubt were about to creep in—

“Lady Geto, you’re far too kind! We didn’t expect the General’s wife to be so thoughtful!” Their faces lit up. 

“Come now,” Suguru cut in with a scowl, though there was no bite behind it. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing at all, General.” One of the soldiers teased.

Suguru rolled his eyes, and a small smile tugged at his lips. His smile was disarming. You never knew the cold and calculative man that was your husband was capable of such a thing. You had never seen him smile—genuinely smile—until now. 

To be honest, it suited him.

“I appreciate the warm welcome,” he said, clearing his throat, “but I’d rather not have my wife catching a cold on the first night.”

“Of course! Allow me to show you both to your quarters, General!” one of the soldiers offered quickly.

Once again, it seemed the two of you would be forced to share space. But at least this time, it appears the tent would be more spacious. There would be more room to breathe, more room to avoid each other.

Walking quietly beside Suguru, your gaze fell on his drenched attire—the way the fabric clung to the contours of his body, and how wet strands of hair stuck to his face. The garment he had draped over you was long soaked through, offering little protection from the rain.

“It's a pity, to be called into duty right after your wedding vows,” the soldier mused as he showed the two of you to your shared tent.

“Our country always comes first,” Suguru replied. “I'm fortunate to have a wife who understands duty as deeply as I do.”

“Why, of course! Most would not be so pleased to have their husband called away so soon—let alone choose to join them at the frontlines. You are a lucky man, General!”

Their banter droned on in the background as you walked, eyes scanning the surroundings. From what you knew, the Eastern Campsite was meant to be a simple outpost, yet the supplies arriving were not just the usual crates of rations and spare armor. Instead, they came in heavy wagons full of weaponry.

Too many for a basic outpost. Too many for peace.

But the most perplexing question remained: why was there even a need to watch the Eastern Region so closely when Princess Ayaka was set to marry their prince?

For many years, the Eastern Region had lived under the looming threat of domination. Their lands were vast, rich in natural resources, but they lacked military might. Their previous kings had lived lives of opulence and bliss, lured into the trap of complacency by the beauty of their homeland. The lush valleys, fertile fields, and tranquil coasts produced a false sense of peace and security. Now, it was too late to build an army—not when conquest was already knocking at their gates.

To make matters worse, the Eastern Region was caught in a deadly pincer—trapped between two nations with insatiable appetites for power. 

King Sato’s only saving grace was that he had a beautiful daughter to offer in marriage—a perfect bargaining chip for his never-ending greed. The Eastern Region most likely foresaw that surrender was inevitable, so they would rather yield peacefully under the guise of marriage than be ravaged by their other neighbor, who would offer nothing but bloodshed. And so, the Eastern Region agreed to the union.

It was a more honorable end.

But now—with the set-up of this war camp—how could the Eastern Region not see it as a betrayal? Wouldn’t it jeopardize the marriage alliance entirely?

You glanced at Suguru, then at Haibara. Both of them seemed unfazed, carrying on as if nothing was unusual. But behind their relaxed facades, you had a sinking suspicion they already knew the truth long ago.

They had to have known.

Especially Suguru.

Frustration brewed in your chest. 

How could he have not told you about this when the stakes were so high?

An outpost alone would have already been enough to spark tension, let alone an entire war camp. It sent a clear, undeniable message that this wasn’t just about keeping the Eastern Region in check. It was a political takeover. A demonstration of power.

While the Eastern Region might eventually bow to King Sato, every country still had its pride and honor.

Was it really necessary to go this far, when he would’ve gotten what he wanted anyway?

Did your husband not see that there was something deeply wrong about this?

Yet, as cynical as it was... this was the dark reality of politics, conquest, and human greed. It was a burden Suguru carried along with his title as the great general—the man who had brought power and prestige to this country. For all his glory and recognition, the harsh truth was that the Conqueror of Stars was nothing more than Sato's lapdog. It didn't matter whether Suguru thought it was right or wrong. The King’s decree was absolute.

It was pitiful.

Suguru glanced over at you, catching you off guard, as if he somehow knew you were dissecting him in your mind. But his eyes quickly shifted forward again.

His gaze still managed to turn everything cold in an instant. But you'd long accepted it was something you'd likely never get used to.

—

When the two of you stepped into the tent, to your mutual horror and dismay, it held only one large bed, a desk with an oil lamp atop it, and a storage chest. You could practically feel his distress by the way he froze immediately and sharply inhaled.

You supposed it would be inappropriate for war camps to house luxury items such as a sofa. Still, the tiny satisfaction that bloomed in your chest was undeniable. It felt like a (petty) victory, seeing the cold general slightly thrown off balance. Though you could only hope he hadn’t picked up on your own discomfort.

“I will wait for you outside,” he said, clearing his throat.

You shot him a confused look.

It was the first time he had really spoken to you since a few nights ago when you confronted him about his resentment towards you. Of course, he gave you his usual answer: silence. And since then, neither of you had really talked, except for when it came down to keeping up appearances, but it was more like he was talking at you than to you. So, you returned the same in kind.

“You need to change into dry clothes,” he reiterated, eyes narrowing in clear annoyance.

Right. 

You nodded, trying to ignore the heat rising up your neck. “It won't take long—”

But he was already stepping out before you could even quite finish your sentence.

Letting out a tiny sigh, you allowed yourself a split-second to decompress, before gingerly sifting through the storage box for a cloth to dry off and a fresh set of camp attire—eager to shed the damp fabric that clung like second skin.

Wet clothes pooled at your feet as you peeled the layers away, and the cool air grazed bare skin, raising goosebumps. You wrapped the cloth around your body and dabbed yourself dry, trying to shake off the lingering chill.

As you noticed the silhouette that lingered just outside the flap of the tent, a shiver traced down your spine. Suguru stood right by the entrance, vigilant like a soldier, as if quietly guarding your dignity.

It was another one of those small things: instinct, habit, a reflex that revealed more of his nature than he ever said aloud. Suguru’s chivalrous tendencies couldn’t be entirely dismissed as performance. 

These new sides of him that you were gradually discovering only made things all the more perplexing. Clearly, he was capable of grace and kindness—but why couldn’t he afford it to you?

Fastening the wrapping around your waist, you took in a small inhale and straightened your shoulders. Peeking out from the tent, your gaze landed on his broad back. He stood unmoving, as though lost in thought, rain bouncing off him in steady streams. His clothes looked soaked to the point they couldn’t hold a drop more.

“I’m done,” you said quietly, feeling a flicker of guilt at the sight.

Suguru glanced over, gave a curt nod, and stepped into the tent. You moved toward the entrance—about to return the courtesy—when he paused.

“You’re only going to get wet again if you wait outside,” he said.

Feet frozen mid-step, your mind went momentarily blank. He crossed the space, pulled a fresh cloth and dry uniform from the storage chest, and set them neatly on the desk.

His fingers moved deftly to untie the outer layer, before pausing. Then he shot you a sharp glare, as if to say: are you just going to stand there and gawk?

Startled, you snapped back to reality and spun around, facing the tent wall. Ears burning, you held your breath as the rustle of fabric filled the silence—his clothes falling onto the floor. Standing there for what felt like an eternity, you focus hard at the blank canvas in front of you, in an attempt to ignore the embarrassing images flooding your mind. The memory of him sparring with Haibara, the way his muscles moved; the scars that mapped his skin; and the sweat that glazed his body, just like the rain—

“Take this,” he said.

His voice snapped you out of it. When you turned, he was already fully dressed—fresh clothes modestly covering his frame, damp hair hanging down, and cold eyes locked with yours.

In his hand was a dagger, slightly worn, with the crest of House Geto engraved, but still well-kept. Unmistakably his personal blade. But as he settled it into your hands, you noticed something else on the blade—Shinjiro Geto.

Why…would he pass along such an invaluable item?

Why would he give his father’s dagger to you?

Haibara’s caution about his past and his family echoed in your mind, and so you swallowed down your curiosity. Instead, you looked at Suguru—really looked at him for the first time. 

A silent plea to just talk to you. 

You had planned to confront him about concealing the truth, but this unexpected gesture gave you a pause, allowing him an opportunity to explain the situation. If he would tell you the truth now, you would overlook it just this once.

He returned your gaze, and for a moment, everything seemed to still. You held your breath, gripping the dagger tighter, hoping he’d say something—anything.

It was utterly naive, how a small, unexpected gesture could spark a flicker of hope. Hope that maybe, just maybe, things were shifting. That he would finally let you in, even if only a little. But he broke the gaze, turning to leave. 

The cryptic offering of the dagger was as far as he was willing to go.

Under normal circumstances, this would have been progress. A step closer to mutual understanding. However, this small gesture was not good enough given the current situation. The stakes were too high, and lives were on the line—you couldn’t afford to be caught off guard.

Closing the distance, you marched towards him and gripped his arm, stopping him in his tracks.

He instantly stiffened under your touch. 

“I ask you again, Geto-sama. Is there trouble?” Your voice was steady, but your eyes burned with defiance, conveying a message that you expected answers. There would be no compromises this time. 

Maintaining decorum felt nearly impossible. 

Since the start of this journey, every moment of silence, every time he had dismissed you had worn down your patience, and slowly chipped down your confidence.

“I’m sure you’ve already figured it out,” he said brusquely, shrugging off your touch.

“I have my presumptions, yes,” you replied evenly, maintaining your gaze at him. “But I must hear it from you.”

“There’s no use in that,” he countered dismissively. “You’re a keen woman—whatever you presume is most likely correct.”

“I only ask that you be forthcoming with me, especially when lives could be at risk.”

“If there’s one thing you must hear from me, then hear this: it is all under control. Continue playing the quiet, obedient Lady Geto.”

“I don’t mind playing the role,” you said, infuriation slowly creeping up. “But I do mind putting the people I care about in danger.

“There’s no doubt you and Haibara knew well in advance the true nature of this summon—that this outpost was actually a war camp. But had I known, I wouldn’t have brought Yumi here.”

“Your lady-in-waiting will not be in danger. I can assure you.” He let out an irritated sigh.

You bit the inside of your lip, frustration flaring in your chest. He was either the most conceited man alive or a stubborn fool, and at this moment, you were inclined to believe both.

“You could have assured me sooner by simply telling me the truth.”

“I’m not required to do such a thing. You are just to follow my lead, and I will handle the rest.”

“You owe it to me,” you snapped, voice sharp. “Whatever political game or fire you’re playing with, I do not care for it. But I will not stand by your willful neglect a second time.”

“And what would you do about it exactly?” 

“You should know better than to underestimate someone you barely even know.” 

“Is that a threat?” His voice dropped, dark and dangerous.

“A threat?” You smiled wryly. “Do I threaten you, Geto-sama?”

“I’d advise you to watch your words, Lady Geto,” he warned, stepping closer—his breath hot against your skin.

“Lady Geto,” you echoed, almost mockingly. Taking a bold step forward, your face now inches from his, you whispered, “Then you ought to remember to treat me as such. Otherwise, you dishonor your own name.”

His glare was cold, sharp enough to cut. Almost as if he were promising retribution.

But you couldn't care less.

“You’d best pray nothing goes wrong while we’re here, General Geto. I’m counting on you to keep it under control this time.” With that, you pulled away from him and stormed toward the entrance.

Despite the heavy rain, you couldn’t bear another moment inside that tent.

Suguru sat on the edge of the bed as he watched you leave. Heart pounding violently against his chest. You were an irritating and vexatious woman. Too keen, too competent—a wildcard. If he didn’t hold fast onto his reins, his meticulous plans and ambitions might go down in ruins. 

He cannot allow it.

He cannot allow all his sacrifices to mean nothing.

—

"My lady, is something amiss?" Yumi’s voice carried a slight concern as she ushered you into her tent, shielding you from the cold rain. Your hair and clothes were already damp, the storm clinging to you like the weight of that heated exchange from moments ago.

“Nothing,” you said with a small, practiced smile, though irritation still coiled tightly in your chest. “I just wanted to make sure you’d settled in alright.”

“Oh, yes—this is more spacious than I imagined. Better than the—” She caught herself, grumbling, “Never mind,” before waving it off and gesturing to a small stool by the table.

You laughed softly, already knowing what she meant. She still had a bone to pick with Suguru regarding your gilded prison back at the estate, though being near your husband right now felt more like the real prison than the guest house.

But your amusement faded as a more pressing question gnawed at you. “Have you noticed…?” you murmured, narrowing your eyes.

She nodded, her expression tight. “It’s not an outpost.”

“I’m sorry.” You bit the inside of your cheek, frustration bubbling in your chest. “Had I known the truth, I would have—”

“Nonsense.” Yumi’s voice cut through your apology, firm and reassuring. “You don’t need to worry about me. I’m more than capable of handling my own.”

You nodded slowly, though guilt still tugged at you. 

It wasn’t that you doubted Yumi’s ability should the need arise, but you would have rather spared her the risk entirely. You should’ve pressed harder when Suguru first told you of the King’s summon. You should have pushed back.

But navigating this foreign territory—duty, marriage, coexistence with a man who seemed determined to dismiss your very existence—was no easy feat. You were still learning, barely keeping your head above water. And perhaps the unfamiliarity had clouded your usually sharp judgment.

“Here, take this.” You pressed Suguru’s dagger into Yumi’s hands. A part of you felt guilty for passing it off, knowing it wasn’t just Suguru’s blade—it was an heirloom. But you knew that Yumi would take good care of it.

Her eyes widened. “This is… House Geto’s blade. I can’t accept it.”

“Please, Yumi,” you insisted softly. “It’s only an extra precaution. Geto-sama has assured me that everything is under control.”

She hesitated before reluctantly accepting it. 

“It’s just to ease my mind.” You smiled gently, hoping to dispel any doubt she still carried.

—

Suguru tried to ignore the throbbing ache behind his eyes as he sat with the war council, the room far too stuffy and far too loud. From the moment this journey began, a thorn had lodged in his side—and that thorn was you.

He hadn’t anticipated that matrimony could be so complicated. But duty cared little for personal matters. There was still work to be done, and he had hoped to avoid a war with the Eastern Region at all costs. 

Under different circumstances, he might have respected you, perhaps even found an ally in you. But it was the damn role you played that forced him to keep you at arm’s length.

Because you were too close for comfort.

Contrary to what most would think, personal affairs were just as dangerous as political ones. And his current situation was, quite frankly, a mess he hadn’t accounted for.

It was never his plan to demean you, but he had to admit: he had gravely underestimated you. And it unnerved him more than it should. 

On the battlefield, underestimation and arrogance were deadly mistakes. But ever since you had set foot at the Geto Estate, you’ve disrupted his carefully ordered world in ways he couldn’t quite explain.

It was agitating.

There was no denying it: you were impressive. A natural-born leader. Possibly more capable than most of the advisors in this very room. Unfortunately, in a world ruled by men, women like you were never given power.

Women, especially noblewomen, were expected to be ornaments. Silent, poised, always shadowed by men, no matter how brilliant they may be.

Yet his wise father had always told him: every great man has an even greater woman beside him.

If Shinjiro could see his own son now, he would be ashamed. Not because of you, but because of how Suguru had treated you.

Suguru had clung to his father’s words like scripture. But how could he ever acknowledge you in that light—when his heart belonged to someone else, and his mind was consumed by ambition?

There was no space for you. 

It just wasn’t possible for two indomitable forces to coexist in harmony.

Worse still, you had been right from the beginning. He needed you. These past few days of forced proximity had made that fact impossible to ignore. No one else—not a single name on that list of candidates—could have played the role of Lady Geto the way you did.

That’s what made you all the more dangerous. Suguru never denied talent when he recognized it.

He couldn’t tell you the purpose of this summon or the true nature of this outpost, because this was King Sato’s test.

A test of loyalty.

Suguru knew the King’s paranoia, the insecurities that bred his extreme tendencies. He’d seen it coming, and it was only a matter of time before Sato became wary of him. 

Just as he’d once been wary of his father.

Now, it was Suguru’s turn to prove his allegiance.

On paper, Princess Ayaka’s marriage to the Eastern Region’s prince was enough to secure the takeover. There was no reasonable justification to convert this outpost into a war camp. It wasted resources, kept soldiers from their families, and invited unnecessary bloodshed.

But the truth was simple, which made it all the more cruel... Sato needed to know his lapdog was still loyal. He had to see that his blade was still sharp.

As inconceivable and preposterous as the entire setup was, Suguru would take the bait. The Eastern Region was weak; even if they retaliated, the losses would be minimal. Above all, he gambled that the Eastern Region would recognize the cost, and avoid war.

This was low risk, and Suguru would acquiesce.

Everything would be fine. He had planned every angle. He owed it to his soldiers, to House Geto, and—most of all—to himself. 

He needed to know that he still had control—

“Geto-sama,” Haibara’s voice rang out. 

Suguru looked up at him. 

The entire council fell silent, seven pairs of eyes staring back at him. All waiting for his input. 

If only…

There was a person who could even understand a fraction of his burdens. Even though sometimes he doesn’t even fully comprehend it himself. 

“I understand the concerns regarding our current position,” Suguru said with a sigh, rubbing at his temple. “A war benefits neither side. But whether the Eastern Region chooses to take offense is beyond our control.” The dull ache from earlier had gradually transformed into a stabbing pain.

“Perhaps we can retract some of our forces to show them we mean no harm,” one of the advisors suggested.

“That will be an insult to our nation. If we give into the Eastern Region’s opinions, this will only show them that they have the upper hand!” Another countered.

“If we wanted to take their country by force, we would have already done so a long time ago,” one of the infantry commanders said. “The Eastern Region thinks too highly of themselves.” 

Quiet murmurs began to amplify, and civility spiraled into bickering—debating whose convictions were stronger, who’s right, and who’s wrong.

But there was no such thing as right or wrong on the battlefield. 

Only winning or losing. 

Both sides always had something to lose, it was just a matter of who would bleed dry first. 

In the end, blood was the currency of war.

The tent felt more suffocating by the minute—its walls encroached closer with every breath. Their voices grated, and the lights blinded. Until it was all too much to bear. 

“Enough.” Suguru’s voice commanded. 

The room immediately silenced. 

“I agree that we must remain resolute in our stance,” he continued. “But it doesn’t mean that we should abandon diplomacy.” 

“Do you have an idea, General?” 

Suguru nodded. “I have received word from the Royal envoy that Princess Ayaka will be here in a week’s time.”

Confused whispers filled the room. It was obvious to everyone how risky this was.

Why would the King put his precious daughter in such a precarious situation?

But Suguru had a plan—to minimize the risk, ensure her visit went smoothly, and resolve the tension through diplomacy.

“In addition to Princess Ayaka’s arrival, I propose we also invite the Eastern Region’s envoy to our campsite. What better way to prove our goodwill than to show them?”

This new proposal sparked some newfound hope and relief among the council. It would be a gamble, but he would do anything he could to avoid going to war. Because this was all the result of King Sato’s delusions, and Suguru knew better than anyone that the cost of those delusions was always paid in blood.

—

You held your breath as you entered the shared tent, but to your relief, it was empty. Glancing around the space, something new caught your eye. Maps and parchment were now spread across the desk—papers that hadn’t been there before.

Curious, you moved closer and settled into the small chair before the desk. Your hands hovered before gently sifting through what looked like council notes. Nothing too secretive. But intriguing enough. If he truly didn’t want you seeing them, he wouldn’t have left them out in plain sight.

Fingers carefully traced the delicate parchment as your eyes followed the outlines and labeled borders with quiet awe. Maps had always felt like works of art to you. The way cartographers captured every mountain, river, and road with such precision—it was mesmerizing.

Suguru’s handwriting and notes were neat and precise, outlining only the core importance. No more, no less. Very much like him.

Camp is tense, morale low Sato’s decision not widely supported. Most prefer peace.  Hold current position. Engage in political diplomacy. Invite the Eastern Region’s envoy with the Princess present. Weekly supply shipments steady. Rations currently sufficient. Prepare a peace contract as contingency.

Then, your eyes fell on a folded letter. You hesitated for a moment, but against your better judgment, you unfolded the letter.

General Geto, Tension rises by the day between the camp and the Eastern Region. The envoy from the Eastern Region has been imploring us to reconsider what this act means for our two nations. But it is more of a warning than a suggestion. Our wise King has decided to send Princess Ayaka and a contingent of royal guards to the campsite, in hopes of symbolizing peace and assuring them that our nation means no harm. Please expect their arrival within a week’s time. Hopefully, this gesture will quell any doubts they may have. However, should conflict arise, the King has vested his full authority in you—to secure and lead our great nation. He has also entrusted his beloved daughter’s safety to your care.

Your eyes widened. Maybe you shouldn’t have looked, but this letter revealed more than Suguru ever would. Unease seeped deep into your bones, the letter alluded that a war may be imminent—now the question was: when? 

The Princess’ arrival was something you hadn’t anticipated. Even if this was a symbol of peace, it was risky.

Why would King Sato do such a thing?

Every piece of the puzzle you’ve managed to put together only made you realize how much bigger the real picture was.

You carefully folded the letter back into its original crease and slid it beneath the paperweight.

Do not interfere. It didn’t concern you. You reminded yourself. And in this situation, you recognized it wasn’t in your place to intervene. 

But that didn’t mean you weren’t watching.

Suguru said it was under control.

So let it be a test.

You would watch from the sidelines, just as he wanted. And you would see how reliable he truly was.

While you were engrossed with the map and notes, the entrance of the tent flips open.

It was Suguru. 

He looked disoriented. You barely recognized him for a moment. His usually disciplined posture now slumped, skin glazed with a sickly sheen.

“You look pale,” you said, concern evident in your voice.

Suguru glanced at the map in your hand but didn’t react. His gaze barely focused. Speechless, caught between confusion and worry, you watched him trudge over to the bed and collapse onto it.

“If anyone looks for me, tell them I’m not here,” he muttered, voice hoarse.

You stood and moved to his side. “Where do you feel unwell?”

“I just need a bit of rest,” he replied, strained, eyes already shut.

As always, he was stubborn as an ox. Even in this state, he kept his walls high, even when they served no one—not even himself. Whatever grievances you’d been holding out on him had (temporarily) disappeared. Suguru may have been inconceivably infuriating, but you weren’t heartless.

Your eyes trailed down at him—he was already out cold, his chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm. He hadn’t even spared the effort to cover himself properly with the blanket. 

You let out a small, frustrated huff.

Sometimes you wondered: had the two of you not been married, how different would it be? Would it have been possible for the two of you to become friends?

Then again, you doubted you would’ve ever had the opportunity to cross paths with someone like him had it not been for this twist of fate.

How… annoying.

You wanted to stay angry with him, even if just a little longer. But perhaps, anger was not what you had been feeling this entire time. It was far more complicated than the simplicity of being angry. More so it was resentment, confusion, frustration, and disappointment. 

Yet, seeing him in this vulnerable state made the knot in your stomach twist.

You gently tugged the blanket up from beneath him, struggling slightly against his full weight, but even with your shuffling and fussing, he didn’t stir. You smoothed the blanket over his sturdy frame, then hesitated, hand hovering over his forehead before pressing gently.

A small sigh of relief escaped your lips. No fever.

Maybe he was just fatigued.

.

.

.

The clash of steel rang sharp across the training grounds, a sound that was pulled from a distant memory. Suguru crossed blades with the most formidable opponent he had ever faced: his father. 

Years had passed, but he never forgot the force behind each strike—powerful, precise, absolute.

Convictions forged in steel. 

That was Shinjiro Geto’s greatest weapon.

“You are ready, my son,” his father said, clashing swords with a smile. “The scion of House Geto—it is time to claim your birthright. Let vengeance be your sword, and honor your shield!”

At first, Suguru was taken aback by his father’s declaration, but he continued to parry his every move, yet, he couldn’t shake off this feeling of foreboding. Something didn’t feel quite right—quite like his own father. With every strike the violence grew hungrier, more feral, driven by an animalistic impulse.

The dark, perverse power that came from the man before him was not Shinjiro Geto.

He donned his father’s face, but it was not him.

It was Suguru’s greatest enemy: himself.

What was once an innocent spar, now turned into a fight to the death. 

Who will be the victor? 

Suguru couldn’t tell. But with every blow, he felt himself slipping closer to the darkness.

And just as he brought up his blade, drawing the final strike to his shadow self—everything changed in an instant. Just like that fateful night when he was eighteen.

He had only blinked momentarily, but time seemed to have warped in an instant, because in front of him was no longer his father…

It was you.

Your expression carried that same haunting coldness that both irritated and chilled him. Still, he found himself unable to look away.

Without hesitation, you swung your blade at him like he was foe. Your movements were fluid, precise, certain. He knew they were lethal, but he could not feel the weight of your strokes, nor hear the clash of your steel. 

You exchange blows in silence, each one deadlier than the last.

He continued to parry your movements, but it was a difficult exchange when it felt like he had been stripped from some of his senses—he couldn’t feel the weight of your strength.

“Do I vex you, General?” you asked, voice calm, unnerving in its clarity.

Your calmness only provoked him.

Anger surged through him. He gripped his sword, knuckles white, and struck like you were a true enemy on the battlefield. But you parry him, over and over again, without fail. You anticipated his every move like you’d read the choreography before it even happened, as if you were inside his mind.

His strikes turned wild. Erratic. Desperate. It wasn’t just a duel anymore. It was about control. Submission. The need to win you, beat you, break you.

But it was all in vain, because it felt like striking into water.

Until finally, a sharp clash of steel rang in the air. The force of the final blow was none like he had ever felt before, shockwaves reverberated through every fiber of his being and deep into his bones. But it was not your sword that was lost—it was his, as it clatters to the ground.

Before he could recover his blade, you pin him to the ground. Bringing up your sword, ready to draw the finishing blow. He looked up, fully expecting to be met with your usual detached gaze, but instead, he was met with anguish.

“Why do you resent me, Suguru?” A sorrowful smile graced your lips, and a stray tear ran down your face. 

His entire body went rigid.

But death never came. 

He blinked, and time had warped once again.

You were gone.

The skies turned dark, a thick smog polluted the atmosphere burning his lungs, but something fouler and more familiar permeated the air: blood. 

He found himself ten years back, standing among the ashes and ruin of the Geto Estate. Yet, there was not a single soul in sight. 

“Father! Mother! Sayuri!” He shouted, as he ran through the corridors—wherever his instincts took him.

His legs brought him to the garden, the pride of the Geto Estate. But he was met with another sight that he was not prepared to see.

You—your limp, bloodied body by the cherry blossom tree.

Ba bump.

Every heartbeat was a dagger to the chest.

What was this feeling?

Despair?

Regret?

Why?

.

.

.

“Thank you, doctor.”

Suguru wakes to the sound of your voice. He lay there, still grappling between reality and dream, grounded only by the frenzied palpitations in his chest. The headache was gone, but his body currently felt like lead. 

As his vision adjusted, he saw you under the soft glow of ember light. The physician gave a small bow before quietly leaving.

Curses. 

Had he really fallen ill?

It had been years since he’d fallen ill. As healthy as a stallion, Haibara would always joke. 

Why now? At this critical moment?

It was maddening. Nothing was going according to plan.

And not to mention, that god-awful dream.

Its remnants still clung to him like a shadow. Even now, awake, he couldn’t shake the echo of your voice, and your dreadful gaze.

Suguru had dreamed countless times of his father. Of the night his family was massacred. That was nothing new. In fact, it had become a recurring part of his life; so much so their absence would now feel unnatural. However, it was the first time you appeared in his dream—and it was a terrifying one. 

“You’re awake.” You stood beside him, a tiny sachet of medication in your hands. 

“How long have I been asleep for?” He tried to hide that strange anxiousness in his chest.

“A good part of the day. It's evening now,” you replied. “You started getting chills and fever an hour ago.”

He let out a weak, frustrated groan as he tried to prop himself up.

“Stay.” You lightly put a hand on his chest. “The physician said you should continue to rest… you probably caught a cold from the rain.”

“I’ve weathered harsher storms,” he grumbled, clearly annoyed with the turn of events. 

Truth be told, you had heard him mumble in his sleep. He called out for his family… for Sayuri… but you decided not to bring it up. Haibara had also finally informed you—albeit with a bit of pressure—what was actually going on in the campsite, and the tension between the two nations.

You were sure it had been the stress that got to him. One could only bear so much alone. 

Not that your prideful husband would ever admit it. 

“You can’t be strong all the time,” you muttered. “Just sleep. You’ll get better soon.”

He let out a sigh and stared at the roof of the tent, as if being sick was like a death sentence. You’d never seen him so defeated before, but that’s just a reminder that once again, Suguru Geto was only human. He was not immune to things like sickness, injuries, or even death. 

A part of you wanted to reassure him so that he could rest easy, but you had a feeling that if you told him you’d stepped in to help, it would only exacerbate his illness. 

So you held your tongue. 

“What are you doing?” He grabbed your wrist. 

You sighed. “I’m changing the cloth.” 

“I’m ill, but I’m not completely unable,” he peeled the fabric off his forehead, and handed it to you. 

“How do you think it got there in the first place, Geto-sama?” You shot him an unimpressed stare, and plucked the cloth from his hand, wringing it out in the basin of fresh water that you’d gone to fetch yourself. 

He watched you closely as your hands worked deftly—soaking the linen, then wringing it out a few times. The way your sleeves were neatly rolled up, and how your hands squeezed with the right amount of strength showed that, once again, you were used to working with your hands.

There was a lot he didn’t know about you.

A lot of facets of you that couldn’t just be learned through quiet observation.

You folded it neatly, and as his hand instinctively reached for the cloth, you swatted his hand away. Garnering a soft tch from him. 

“Is it not a wife’s duty to care for her husband when he’s sick?” you said flatly, placing the cloth on his forehead. “Or shall I summon Haibara and let everyone wonder why their General’s wife doesn’t tend to him?”

Indeed, there was no one else who could have played the role of Lady Geto better than you.

—

It had been four days since Suguru fell ill… but thanks to you, he recovered rather quickly.

On the first night, he drifted in and out of consciousness, but even then, he could feel you quietly changing the cloth throughout the night. You were diligent, even when no one was watching.

By the next morning, when he awoke and his fever finally broke, you were already gone. Judging from the coldness of your side of the bed, you had been gone for a while. He was surprised when Yumi stepped in not long after, with a small tray of food. She offered only surface-level pleasantries and wished him a swift recovery.

According to Yumi, you’d given her thorough instructions: to serve Suguru a warm breakfast with his medicine, ensure there was fresh water in his pitcher, keep the air circulating in the tent, and make sure he returned to bed immediately after eating.

When he asked where you were, Yumi simply said you had matters to take care of and didn’t divulge any further.

Suguru wasn’t sure what to think of Yumi. There was something guarded in her presence—an unspoken tension, maybe even a trace of animosity. But it was evident that she looked up to you, following your every instruction like decree. While he ate, she pinned up the entrance and side flaps of the tent. And when he was finished, she quietly watched him return to bed before taking the tray and excusing herself.

Occasionally, you would stop by the tent throughout the day, but never for long—just enough to check if his fever had gone down and to change out the linen on his forehead. You never fully returned until the evening, when you brought in a tray of food for dinner, always with some documents secured under your arm. He’d been curious about those papers, but decided not to ask.

It wasn’t until the third day, when Suguru was mostly recovered, that he finally found out from Haibara what you’d been up to this whole time.

“Lady Geto has been exceptionally helpful while you were bedridden,” Haibara remarked, a hint of amusement in his voice.

He had stopped by to check in on his friend. After all, it wasn’t every day one saw the great General Geto in such a feeble state—and frankly, it was rather adorable. What’s even more surprising was that even allowed you to look after him.

“And what exactly has she been up to?” Suguru asked nonchalantly, trying to mask his underlying curiosity. 

“She hasn’t told you?” 

More like Suguru never even tried to ask you.

Truthfully speaking, he was certain if he’d asked—you would have told him. He could already picture it: the way you would look at him with a reserved stare, and give him a straightforward, candid answer. 

Always speaking like you had nothing to hide.

It was him who never gave you honest answers. Determined to put a distance between the two of you.

Haibara chuckled. “For one, she oversaw all the preparations for Ayaka-sama’s arrival.”

Right. The princess was set to arrive in a few more days.

“She also helped with camp supplies and rations,” Haibara continued. “I wasn’t aware that she was so proficient with inventory. Even the war council was impressed.” 

“The soldiers also seem to be happy with her around. She joined them every night at the dining hall…”

As Haibara continued, listing off your contributions for the past three days, something—ever so slightly—shifted. 

It was that foreign ache in his chest again. 

An ache that had pestered him since the dream. An ache he refused to name. Doing so would only make things harder to untangle.

This was all supposed to be temporary. Once his goal had been achieved, he would send you back to your father.

He won’t acknowledge it.

He can’t acknowledge it.

—

It was the night before Princess Ayaka’s arrival.

Laughter and the clinking of ceramics filled the air. The sweet aroma of rice wine and mouthwatering scent of grilled meat permeated the dining hall. It was a lively communion tonight, a belated welcome celebration for House Geto—one you were quietly dreading. It was overwhelming, to say the least. If your wedding had been suffocating, then this was even more unbearable—sitting among hundreds of rowdy men who worshipped your husband, and revered him like the reincarnation of Hachiman.

Their beloved General Geto: the perfect, loving, doting husband.

If only that were true.

Ever since Suguru recovered, he’d been awfully quiet. Not that you minded. In fact, the peace was welcomed.

The only thing now was that he awkwardly avoided you behind closed doors, but you chalked it up to embarrassment. Maybe he was still ashamed of being so vulnerable. After all, General Geto was a prideful man.

Other than that, there had been no further discourse between the two of you. Everything had returned to the status quo. You only prayed it would stay this peaceful—at least until negotiations concluded. But as the days passed, there was also a growing apprehension in the camp.

Everyone had been bracing for the worst-case scenario: war.

This belated celebration was indeed divine timing, because seeing the temporary carefree faces on the soldiers made you realize that this was a much needed distraction.

“General Geto! We’re so relieved that you are fully recovered,” one of the soldiers said. 

“Thank you for everyone’s concern and well-wishes,” Suguru slightly smiled, taking a sip of wine from his cup. “...It is only because of my wife that I was able to recover so soon.” His jaw tightening ever so slightly as the words came out.

“Indeed, Lady Geto is most impressive,” one of the vice captains said. “She stepped in the moment you fell ill.”

“Yes, I’ve heard all about it,” Suguru chuckled. “My wife is indeed very capable and competent—it is one of her many admirable traits.” 

His praise stung, because you knew that this was all performative. It was difficult to ignore it, but you tried to remind yourself that none of this was true.

He didn’t mean any of it.

“You all flatter me,” you replied—trying to remain composed and suppressing the heaviness you felt. “I am merely doing my job as General Geto’s wife.” 

“That may be true, my lady,” Haibara rebutted, a glint of playfulness in his eyes. “But not everyone could be competent just by sheer will alone. You must give yourself credit where it’s due.”

“I heard you are a judge’s daughter!” Another vice general interjected. 

“Yes, that’s right,” you smiled.

“It’s no wonder! Intellect must run in the family.” 

“My father has taught me all that he can,” you said thoughtfully. “It is a great honor to be his daughter.”

An honor to be his daughter. The words struck Suguru, because he would always remember how his father once said: Suguru is my pride, but Sayuri is my honor.

He’d understood what that meant, even from a young age. He may have been the heir—the future of House Geto.

But Sayuri was their gift. A joy not for what she did, but simply for who she was.

And there was no doubt your father saw you in that same light…

That realization stung more than he thought it would.

“Gather round, everyone!” someone interjected, raising his cup. “Belated, but albeit, from the bottom of our hearts—let’s give a toast to General Geto and Lady Geto. Cheers to their marriage! May it be blessed and everlasting!” 

As ceramics clinked, another voice shouted from the end of the hall.

“Give your lovely wife a kiss, General!”

Whistlings and cheering filled the air, and soon, the entire hall erupted into a chant.

Normally, Suguru would have diverted this with ease. But he found himself hesitating—not wanting to. Giving himself reasons to go through with it, rather than stirring it away.

Yes, this was all to sell the image.

There was no deeper meaning to this, unless he let himself look for one.

The whole room held its breath in anticipation, as they all watched the two of you. Suguru’s hands stretched out towards you, his fingers grazed over your skin, sending a shiver throughout your body. He tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear, while the other cupped your cheek—his thumb swiping gently over your cheekbone.

His gentleness, the warmth in his eyes, and the deliberate movements spoke of a man who had done this countless times behind closed doors. One who loved and honored his wife when no one was watching. One who worshipped her even more reverently in private than in public.

Heat rose to your cheeks as the room began to spin. It felt as if all else had faded and it was only the two of you. The way he looked at you, as if you meant something to him, deepened the ache in your chest.

Was this even the same man you married?

How could he look at you like he had always loved you?

It wasn’t fair…how he could pretend so well.

��Please, don’t—” you whispered, but his lips connected with yours before you could finish your words.

It was your first kiss, but not at all how you imagined it to be.

Behind the warmth and softness of his lips, there was something you couldn’t quite explain—almost like an innocent curiosity.

You didn’t desire him.

And he didn’t desire you.

Yet, why did your heart feel like it was about to burst?

…

Sweet.

Perhaps it was the alcohol. Or perhaps he’d finally gone insane.

But why did you taste like ambrosia?

He leaned deeper into the kiss—trying to make sense of this foreign feeling, but also, because his instinct craved more.

The display of affection earned a few loud whistles and cheers from the crowd, but he barely registered them. He was too caught up in the warmth of your mouth, the softness of you. He would’ve gotten completely lost in the sensations of you, if not for the timid hand pressed gently against his chest.

“That’s enough,” you murmured, breaking the kiss. It was just loud enough for him to hear.

When his eyes met yours, your expression was unreadable. But it wasn't your silence that made his gut sink... it was the restraint behind your glistening eyes, and the subtle tremble in your hands, which was now tucked under the table where no one could see.

The earthshattering realization all came a moment too late.

He had offended your dignity.

What the hell was he doing? 

He had never kissed you. Not even during the wedding.

The thought of even touching you had always been enough to elicit a visceral recoil. But here he was, lost in a crazed frenzy like an uncouth animal. He supposed even he wasn’t immune to the base desires of men. 

And yet, if this was purely carnal—why did that small, inexplicable ache settle in his chest again?

Why did it feel like he’d taken more than he meant to?

Why did a small part of him crave to know you?

Why was it that only now did he see it—how you reminded him of the moon.

Hidden. Mystical. 

A beauty that only revealed itself under the veil of night. 

Writing © xechu - please do not redistribute, translate, or repost any of my works.

Taglist: @katsukiseyebrows @uzuimirika @saoirses-things @what-just-happened-to-me

[lavrneryo]

all the other women in your gardening club were so incredibly jealous of you.

it had started off when you were showing them a photo of some fresh strawberries that you grew. the photo was of around 16 perfect looking, freshly washed strawberries placed on top of a cloth inside a basket... and the basket was being held by your husband, satoru.

it was a simple photo, satoru had a cute face, not looking at the camera but instead, was looking down at the fresh fruit, impatiently waiting to eat them.

your fellow club members gawked and smiled widely at your photo.

"wowh! what a beauty!"

"how perfect!"

you smiled in pride as your club members complimented the photo of your stawberries, unaware that they were staring only at satoru and his annoyingly handsome face.

the next instance was when you had shown them photos of your perfect, weedless garden.

"wowh! what weed killer do you use?" one of the older women exclaimed in shock.

"ohh ahah!" you smiled "i don't use any weed killers, we have a dog in the house and i'm afraid he might sniff the toxins, so i pick out the small ones by myself, and i ask my husband to get the bigger ones for me"

"ah... you're so lucky, [name].. my husband is far too chubby to easily pick out the large weeds..."

"your husband listens to you, just like that? i wish my husband would do that.. if i ever asked, he'd complain and whine like a baby"

the last was when your car broke down and had to stay in maintenance for a few days. satoru dropped you off to your gardening club that saturday.

when you walked in, all the ladies' heads snapped over to see satoru.

".. he's even more handsome in person.."

"he's sooo dreamy.."

"look at his biceps..."

you turned around, going on your tiptoes to kiss him goodbye. satoru placed his hand on your waist, leaning in to pull you into his hungry mouth. you pulled away, much to his dismay, satoru tried to pepper more kisses on your face, but you quietly told him to stop, causing him to pout.

"... and he's so inlove with her too..."

"what a loving man.."

"... i hope [name] knows how lucky she is."

those other ladies whispered among themselves before you gave satoru another kiss farewell before turning around and greeting your club members. satoru lingered around the doorway for another minute, watching you with a gentle smile before forcing himself to turn around and leave.

that alone made the ladies expel any thoughts of seducing him to cheat on you... it was too late. He was too deeply in love, and much to their dismay, they understood clearly why he was so obsessed with you.

— likes and reblogs are appreciated!!

[lavrneryo]

BED TIME Cw: smut mdni, college student!reader, dilf!nanami, reader's a babysitter

The apartment is spotless, warm-toned and quiet, except for the low hum of a lullaby playing from the nightlight in the bedroom. You ease the door closed after tucking in Nanami's daughter, who—despite some initial shyness—took to you quickly. A few bedtime stories, a glass of warm milk, and a silly little song you made up on the spot, and she was out.

You sink into the couch and exhale. Babysitting wasn’t your first choice, but between school, rent, and the laughable pay at your campus job, you were desperate. When you saw the ad—“Evening babysitter needed. One child. Quiet home. Good pay”—you jumped.

And the man who interviewed you? Intimidating. Broad-shouldered. Polished in a suit and tie with that deep, thoughtful voice. He barely looked at you during the interview, only nodded at your qualifications and said, "You're hired."

Professional. Cold.

Which is why it throws you completely off when the front door opens, and Nanami steps in looking... not that.

He’s in his usual suit, yes, but the tie is loose. The first two buttons undone. His blond hair slightly mussed. And when he takes off his glasses to clean them with the hem of his shirt—revealing sharp eyes and tired shadows beneath—you feel something unfamiliar ripple through you.

Want.

"You're still here," he says, his voice deep and low, a little softer than usual. "Thank you."

You blink and stand quickly, grabbing your bag. "Of course. She was great. Went right to sleep. I was just about to head out."

"You hungry?"

You stop. "What?"

He walks toward the kitchen, rolling his sleeves up. His forearms—strong, veiny, dusted with light hair—catch your attention more than they should.

"I figured I’d make something quick. Nothing fancy, just pasta. You’re welcome to stay."

You hesitate.

But your stomach growls, and his gaze flicks down to your abdomen for a fraction of a second before he turns and opens a cabinet.

"...Sure. I guess I could eat."

Dinner smells like garlic and fresh basil. The kitchen is dimly lit, cozy. You sit on a stool at the counter while he moves with practiced ease. He's quiet, but not cold. More... observant. The kind of silence that watches.

“You’re in college?” he asks as he sets a plate in front of you.

You nod. "Second year. Double major."

He hums. "Ambitious."

You smile a little, feeling warm. "Trying to be."

Halfway through the meal, the conversation softens. You talk about your classes, about his work (he’s vague), about the city. But every time your eyes meet, the air feels heavier.

You excuse yourself to the sink, rinsing your plate. His comes next to yours a second later. He’s behind you—close. You can feel the heat radiating from his chest.

Then, quietly: "You shouldn’t wear shorts that small around me."

Your breath catches.

You look down at your legs. They’re modest enough. Mostly. But now you feel the burn of his gaze against the backs of your thighs.

"I—"

"Don’t worry," he cuts in. "I’ll pretend I haven’t been looking."

He steps closer, his hand bracing against the counter beside your waist. You turn your head and he's right there, his mouth inches from your ear.

"Unless... you don’t want me to pretend."

You swallow hard. "I don’t."

He exhales like he’s been holding back for hours. The next second, your back hits the counter, and his lips are on yours—hungry, restrained but crumbling. His tongue slides against yours, and the low groan he lets out makes your knees weak.

He lifts you onto the counter with ease, spreading your thighs. His hands are everywhere—your waist, your ass, one slipping under your shirt and tracing up your spine.

"You don’t know what you do to me," he mutters, kissing down your neck. "Coming here smelling all sweet, looking like temptation in a tank top and too-short shorts."

Your fingers clutch his dress shirt. You’re dizzy from the kiss, from the tension finally snapping.

"I didn’t mean to," you whisper.

He chuckles darkly. "Doesn’t matter. I’m done pretending."

His hand slips beneath your waistband, fingers brushing over your panties. You’re soaked—shamefully so.

"So wet already," he murmurs, pushing the fabric aside. "You were waiting for this."

Your head falls back as he circles your clit, slow and deliberate.

"Tell me if you want to stop," he breathes against your ear.

"Don’t stop," you plead.

His mouth crushes yours again. Fingers pumping into you—slow, then faster. Curling just right. You moan into his mouth and he swallows every sound.

"Such a good girl," he pants. "Letting me do this. Letting me touch what no one else has."

Your orgasm hits hard—embarrassingly fast—but he doesn’t stop. He draws it out, fingers still working you as he kisses the tears from the corners of your eyes.

"You can take more," he says. "You’re gonna take all of me."

And you want it. You want all of him.

Even if it’s wrong. Even if you’re never just the babysitter again.

ꨄ︎slxttybrbie | Do not copy, steal or translate my work and pngs. you'll be blocked.

[M.list]

[lavrneryo]

You didn't like the palace of the king of curses.

It wasn't because of the big garden with flowers you have never seen before, it wasn't because of the library with books you could only have dreamed of touching when you still lived in your home village.

It wasn't even the big intimidating king who was always scowling.

"There she is again. The king's new whore."

You didn't like the palace because of the maids who were constantly gossiping.

Every morning at precisely 5 am you were woken up by the sound of your door opening and the almost extra heavy steps of one of the maids. The maid would always start cleaning loudly at that ungodly hour and leave the curtains and door open when they leave. As they clean, they would always ignore you, never acknowledging your whining and groaning.

If it was just the lost sleep you wouldn't think they had something against you. Maybe it was just common here?

Wrong. Very wrong.

It wasn't common to be watched whenever you left your 'chambers'. It wasn't common to be glared at in the hallway. It wasn't common to wake up to torn clothes in your closet. And you really hoped it wasn't common to find tiny shards in your food.

It started with just whispering about you in the first week you were here. But over the last two months you felt the growing dread, growing hate towards you.

After you wore a kimono dress more oftenly, you would find it in shreds the next morning. And every snack that was brought to you was reflecting in different colors when the sun touched them.

Last week Sukuna had ordered you to eat with him. And as you felt their piercing glares you knew they were fuming.

"How do you think he will get rid of her when he gets bored?" Giggling. And of course they didn't care anymore if you heard what they said about you. Because they knew by now you wouldn't run to Sukuna about it.

Why? You didn't know. Maybe it was your sick masochistic pride which refused to ask that man for help. You would never admit it but somewhere deep in you, you didn't want him to see you as weak. Which he probably already did, but that was off the point. You didn't want him to see you scared because of some unspoken threats.

And today would be no different. Even if you could hear them talking about how you must be crazy in bed for their king to be so patient with you. But oh, were they wrong. Truth was, you didn't share anything intimate with the king.

You were just a gift for him from your village, someone he just kept around because he could. Well, that was your theory. Nobody knew what the king was really thinking.

"Oh, he will rip her apart for sure! Or maybe just slice her in two..."

That was enough of that for the day. Like always you skipped the rest of lunch, fleeing with light and quick steps out of that unbearable room. Maybe you had a sick masochistic pride, but even that had its limits.

At times like these you went into the library. They weren't allowed in there. The books there kept you warm and safe, away from the glances and whispers. Books about the world, countries you have never heard before. How could you, if you had never had seen so many books in one place?

Back in your village you would have called all these things meaningless. What about some other place on the other side of the earth? As if it would ever be important for you. But right now? It was nice to focus on something so meaningless. Maybe it was the relaxation. Probably it was the sleep deprivation. Who could blame you for falling asleep between these books?

·········⋆༺𓆩❀𓆪༻⋆·········

"Wake up." If you were back at your village you would have complained about this kind of waking up. But after the last two months it almost seemed gentle.

"Hmmmm?" you whined while keeping your eyes shut. You just wanted to sleep.

"I said wake up." You groaned while rubbing your eyes and slowly sitting up. Opening them to look into these red ones. Red eyes, crimson red eyes.

Annoyed, Sukuna sat down on the opposite side of the table you had layed your head on. Only now you realized how high the table was built, built specific for him to work on.

"I don't like it to be kept waiting." he leaned back in his chair. "I thought I made it clear to dine with you-"

"It's already dinner time?" you straightened your posture, your right cheek feeling hot from the laying on top of the book. Your eyes still felt heavy but you tried your hardest to keep them open.

"Was. It's already much past it in fact. I had to search for a long time to find you."

You looked outside of one of the big windows in the library, seeing the moon standing high in the nightsky. You rubbed your eyes, while a small yawn escaped. "I'm sorry, my lord, I fell asleep."

He scoffed. "I could see that. What I'm asking myself is why? Aren't you sleeping well?"

And of course you couldn't just keep your mouth shut like you had wanted. No, you scoffed too and narrowed your eyes as you thought about them. "Oh, but of course I do."

There was a tense silence after that, you didn't know what but something shifted in the atmosphere. Sukuna's eyes had suddenly something dark in them. "Elaborate."

You gaped but stayed silent. He didn't question, he demanded an explanation. But there was still your pride.

"Just neck problems, you know." you lowered your gaze onto the books you had read before falling asleep. Why the hell did you read about ants?

"Really?" his voice suddenly seemed so low. "Do you think you need a new sleeping place?"

As you looked at him, Sukuna had that strange glint in his eyes, the atmosphere more tense out of sudden.

"Oh, it's not that bad, don't worry." you muttered quietly, trying to ignore his intense stare.

"Well it's certainly not nothing if you oversleep dinner."

This wasn't going anywhere. You tried to lift your gaze just a bit, trying to see what his expression was, but you were immediately met with his red eyes making you advert your look.

The silence was awkward.

It wasn't like the king and you were constantly talking. Normally there would also be a silence in the room when you would dine. But that silence was different. Then he would be content with just your company, no fancy topics needed.

But right now he demanded an explanation. And you were to stubborn to give him it.

You looked at your book again just hoping he would drop it. Making it a battle of stubbornness, which others would laugh at, but was between the two of you more often than normal.

Hmmm...

Ants don't have ears. Instead of hearing through auditory canals, ants "hear" by feeling vibrations in the ground. Special sensors on their feet and on their knees help ants interpret signals from their surroundings. They also use their antennae and the hairs on their body to feel around while foraging for food.

Who would have known?

"Are you gonna drop the antics and just tell me what's going on?" he was annoyed and probably rightfully so, but you were too deep into it now.

"Don't know what you are talking about."

He let out a small groan and stood up. Making his way around the table to stand behind you. And for the first time since you were picked up from your village he was so close you could feel his warmth. He was leaning down behind you. His voice speaking into your right ear from behind.

"If you want to play this game then so be it. But I always find out. And if you keep sleeping so badly, well..."

You could hear his smirk. "Then I just have to make personally sure you sleep well."

With that he left. Left the room. And left you with a embarrassing warmth in your cheeks and tummy and cool ant facts.

@csolya @neuvilletteswife4ever @unaaasz

Hehe this was sitting in my drafts over six months, sryy (but I finished it on my birthday sooo)

Part 1 Part 2

[lavrneryo]

Got Me Looking So Crazy Right Now [2]

Politician!Suguru who can't get you, the pretty and bright rookie, out of his mind. Hell, the man can't even focus on his paper works anymore. His mind is clouded with you, you, and you, which is frustrating for him really. He loves his job, but how the fuck was he supposed to do his job properly if all he could think of is your laugh, witty comebacks, and gorgeous face. There was something about you that drew him in.

Politician!Suguru who was afraid of sending you messages at first, worried about coming off the wrong way, especially as you're both in a very professional industry, one misunderstanding and he's done for. He contemplates, but you beat him to it, thanking him for being good company on the night of the party. Eventually, the two of you frequent sending each other messages. From work matters to good morning texts.

Politician!Suguru who, for the first time in YEARS since he graduated from his PhD, asks someone out on a date. He tries to distract himself by cooking, an activity he found to enjoy whenever things were beginning to feel too stressful for him, but he immediately scrambles when he hears the notification of his phone. Heart racing when he sees it was you. This was so unlike him, he was a respected politician for goodness' sake! not some teenage boy with a crush.

Politician!Suguru who breathes a sigh of relief when you say yes. "Does tomorrow sound good?" he asks, and you hit him up with another yes, immediately making arrangements appropriate for the two of you.

Politician!Suguru who wasn't always the type to indulge himself in luxuries and extravagance, but for you, he had to. The date was going extremely well, with you clad in a salivatingly form-fitting dress, hair down, and makeup done differently from how he sees it in interviews and meetings. You looked drop-dead gorgeous, to say the least.

Politician!Suguru who eventually finds himself at his own expensive home, tipsy as hell with you on his lap. "Must be so tired all the time, hm? You're so tense" you whisper teasingly, massaging his shoulders and making his head spin all at once. What was supposed to be a small glass of alcohol to finish off the night turned into you pleading for him to take you home, and who was he to say no to those tempting lips.

Politician!Suguru who pushes his face in between your bare tits as you grind on his clothed cock. "Must be exhausting playing pretend with all those scumbags, huh?" he nods, throwing his head back and groaning quietly before you get on your knees in between his legs, freeing his cock from the confinement of his slacks. "Got you so worked up. Let me take care of you, hm?" you say as you pump him, putting him in your mouth after. He gathers your hair, gripping on it as he pushes your head further down his length, earning a deep sigh from him.

Politician!Suguru who ends up on top of you, pumping you full of his cock. His kisses were messy, his thrusts were erratic, he was pussydrunk and out of control. "S-sugu-ngh..slow down" you mewl while clawing onto his shoulders. He was built to absolute perfection. You wonder if this man had any negatives to him, because there's none you can see so far. Except maybe the way he was pounding your pussy into his bed was a little too much.

Politician!Suguru who releases his load inside you, not before asking if it's okay of course. He's still ever the gentleman. He cradles you in his arms after you both get over your highs, too spent to do anything else.

Politician!Suguru who's bombarded with calls from his assistant the next morning, asking him about his whereabouts and why he's uncharacteristically late to his office. He, of course, is greeted by your sleeping figure next to him. Naked as the day you were born and littered with hickeys from the night before. He kisses your forehead, stirring you awake.

"Good morning, Suguu" you mumble, still dazed from sleep.

"Good morning, my first lady"

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

1st attempt at Suguru smut *rubs hands deviously like a mosquito* ik i skipped so many things y'all probs have whiplash im sawry dhskddhkshd

[lavrneryo]

Just Friends!?

-Art in the banner from nek0zuu_ on X-

Pairings- Former Nerd! Gojo and popular F! reader

Summary - Satoru Gojo was the biggest nerd EVER in high school with you, next door neighbors, study buddies, you were the best friends in the world. Never having the courage to ask you -the 'popular girl' out- you never knew he felt for you. He ended up leaving town, moving to the big city of LA- getting famous with a modeling career, and lost touch with everyone from his old life. While you're working the family pub to help out your parents, years later, he finally comes back to visit, just to have you making his drink. Everything about him is different, aside from those pretty blue eyes and the sweet grin. You feel he's so accomplished now, and you're just a small town girl, but little do you know, you've never left his mind.

Warnings - Nerdjo turned famous and cocky, but he's still just a Nerdjo deep down hehe- this chap - p in v sex, car sex, multiple positions, Satoru being possessive, oral (f! receiving) fingering, cum drinking, obsessive love, confessions of past love, EMOTIONAL, so many feelingsss, angsty in places - Tag list closed

Based HEAVILY on the 2005 Rom com Just Friends - part of my amazingg moot @indiewritesxoxo's Friday night flicks! 🌙 Comments/rbs appreciated <3

<<<Part Five - Masterlist - Playlist- Part Seven>>>

Part Six

It’s completely dark outside, aside from the brilliant stars shining overhead, and the glimmering moon. Satoru looks up at the sky then, such a far cry from the LA fog, it’s clearer here, it’s prettier. He has your hand in his, you’re both bundled up in your jackets and gloves, rushing over to the car, where he quickly starts the heat, as the two of you see your breaths.

You giggle then, and the sound melts him, he can’t help but have a million images flit through his mind.

Elementary school you, middle school you, high school you.

He never knew you in college, he had left you behind - you haven’t changed much since he last saw you physically, maybe a little more hips, a little maturity in your features, but mostly identical to that girl. The girl he fell in love with on sight, that day way back - the first day he’d gone to a new school, shy and hopelessly awkward. You had instantly befriended him.

You were just like that, too sweet for the world, fuck you’d be eaten alive in his world actually - not that he’d let it happen - but the differences are setting in. As badly as he wants every part of you, of this opportunity that seemed fated in its synchronicity, he also just as badly was afraid. Where did it all lead?

“You’re quiet, Satoru.” You murmur, giggles subsided, a serious expression on a face so pretty to him it makes him ache.

“I got a message,” he is quiet as he lets the heat warm you up, pulling your hands closer to the warmth and rubbing them when he takes your gloves off. “I have to go back after tomorrow night.”

“Oh. That soon?” Your brows knit together, he nods then, he has to be honest with you - he can never just leave like that day again.

“Yeah, I want to spend all the time I can with you.” He feels so vulnerable saying it then and there, but you lean closer, cool hand on his cheek, stinging from the frosty air outside.

“You really do?” He nods then, a hand gripping your wrist in the quiet of the humming sports car, a little oasis where it’s just him and you.

He wishes it would stay that way.

“All I can think about right now is how badly I don’t want to leave you, how fucking scared I am to, like you won’t…” He’s blinking back unexpected tears, you feel your own welling up then, swallowing nervously as you swipe one off a perfect cheekbone. “Like this is some dream.”

“It’s real, Satoru, I’m real.” You take his hand, placing it on your chest now, he feels your heart beat erratically under his palm then, as you grip his wrist, thumb brushing across it. “I’m scared too.”

“That I’ll disappear?” He finishes, feeling the weight of just some of the pain he put you through in your look.

“That, or you’ll get back to those models, and realize I’m nothing.”

“What!?”

“It’s my feelings, okay?” He scowls at you, jaw clenched as he grips your chin, your eyes are glimmering with unshed tears, lip trembling.

“Stop forgetting who the fuck you are.” He whispers, you look down for a moment.

“A failed teacher? Someone at home with her parents at twenty six? A girl who works at a bar and-”

“You’re so much more than that.” He cuts you off with a desperate kiss, which you lean into, when he pulls back his snowy lashes are lowered, darting side to side as if to catch every image of you to memory. “You chased your dreams teaching. You still do teach. You’re helping your fucking family, how is any of that not worthy of admiration?”

“Satoru-”

“No. No, I won't hear any more of it. You were the best friend I ever had, since that day… I’ve felt so empty inside.” Your tears fall rapidly, as he pulls you close against his chest, sighing and stroking your back, a hand up and down your spine over your pretty dress. “I wouldn’t admit what it was, how could I?”

“You were made fun of, you were hurt. I don’t blame you for running away, I just miss you for it.”

“Stop excusing it all.”

“But I don’t blame you.”

Satoru sighs now, breath against your lips, shaking his head. “You are the sweetest person I’ve ever known, and I hurt you. Maybe I don’t forgive myself for that, maybe I just realized what I did. I never knew you’d… miss me.”

“How could I not miss you!?” You pull back, the emotions overwhelming, the car so warm, mixing with the heat of your bodies in the night, in front of an empty movie theater parking lot from long ago, as you look into his brilliant blue eyes, eyes you missed, thought of so often. “You never let me answer how I felt.”

His heart stops then, because if you did feel more than friendship, that knife would bury deeper in his chest. But there was surely no way you…

“I didn’t cross the boundaries because you never, ever tried, even when I gave you so many hints.” You swipe at your cheeks now, sticky with your tears, as he watches with his breath caught in his throat.

“Hints?” His voice is hoarse.

“How many times did I claim my ‘feet were cold’ and needed to put them on you? You’d throw a pillow on them. And how many times did I get undressed right in front of you, but you’d hide like I was scary?” Satoru’s mind whirls with memories, as you continue, painting vivid images of you. “How many times when we cuddled, did I back right on you?”

“Shit…” He’s remembering it all now. “But you… no way that…”

“I dated other people because I wanted to push those feelings back, god Satoru I wanted you to be my first kiss. I asked you, don’t you remember?”

“You… what?!” You sigh now, shaking your head.

“I couldn’t have been more obvious. I asked if we could practice, when we got shoved in that closet for seven minutes. But you just… played your Nintendo DS, remember?” He grimaces now.

“I thought you were kidding. And I thought your feet were really cold! I thought you just enjoyed cuddling and…”

“So my hints all sucked.” You laugh then, like you’re losing it, and maybe you really fucking are, sighing now. “Prom, I tried to kiss you.”

“I thought you were drunk?”

“No. You seemed like you never, ever wanted to try more. So I decided to give you that, to be the best friend I could. I never, ever wanted to hurt you.” Satoru can’t even look at you for a moment, burying his head against his hand as the tears continue to fall right with you.

He hasn’t cried once since he left that night.

Not once.

Your trembling hand brushes his hair back, and he looks at you, vision swimming as the full truth is set upon him. As all those little moments start coming back - times you would blush being close, clinging to him on the pool a little too tightly, falling asleep in his arms and snuggling closer when he pulled back. At prom, you’d shut your eyes and leaned up, and he’d panicked, thinking someone spiked your punch.

He remembers it all, through a different light now.

“I didn’t have a crush on you,” you whisper, shaking your head now. “I loved you, as a best friend and I wanted more, but I thought you didn’t want me.”

“How could you not know? How badly I did want you?” He whispers, heads touching as your breaths mingle, as his hands press you closer, feeling your body tense and then relax, as you lean back, hair falling against his fingers.

“You never told me.”

“I thought you’d laugh or-”

“I would have never. Satoru I was hopelessly in love, okay? I just had to move on, because I didn’t think you felt the same.”

Love.

In love.

“In love with me?” His voice breaks, and you smile sadly, nodding.

“Your cute glasses, the silly jokes you made, the way you always made me feel so beautiful. How smart you were, how thoughtful and kind, when your smile lit up your face. When you got excited about some new insect, some new theory, some star that you discovered.” He whispers your name, as if asking you to stop, but you’re not sure your heart can stop anymore.

“You’re telling me, all those years, you loved me? More than…” You nod now, exhaling nervously, you’d been too scared to ever say those words out loud. 

“I still have the letter, in a box of letters from you.”

Satoru’s heart hammers now.

Everything he thought he knew was wrong, he’d never noticed your signs, so wrapped up in his own thoughts - in his own infatuation, like you were some otherworldly being, how highly he did think of you. He never stopped to think you were just a girl, like he was just a boy back then. A girl he left behind for such stupid reasons.

What would life have been if he let you answer?

“It’s all in the past, okay? I get it, we’re not the same exactly anymore, I am okay with whatever this might be. If it’s just us… getting together, I don’t expect a white picket fence and three kids from you. I just want to be with you for now.” Satoru exhales, shaking his head then.

“That is your dream.”

“It is. But you’re here, and I don’t think I can let it slip by me.” He kisses you, his own tears swiped by your now warmed fingers gently.

“I was obsessed with you, it was beyond all of that. It was… so embarrassing.” He blushes even now, and you see the sweet boy you loved in that moment. “You were all I thought about then. All the ways I would give you your dreams, and what did I end up doing?”

“You’re here now.” He moans, kissing you deeper and deeper, it’s desperate and messy, poured with every feeling the two of you ever had. Tongues slipping together, teeth clicking, when he pulls back for a gasp of air, his eyes so dilated they’re black in the night.

“If we don’t stop now, I can’t stop. I want to bury my fucking self inside you,” he whispers, hands slipping down each side of your waist. “I’ll always fucking want you, as bad as then, worse. I’ll always think you’re the most beautiful girl that walks the fucking earth.”

“Satoru…”

“I will, I do. I always have. Don’t you know no one has compared to the girl whose picture is in my pocket?” His words end any resolve, and care for getting hurt then, how can you not be with him in this moment?

“Promise you won’t forget me.” You whisper, he sighs then, shaking his head.

“I never, ever forgot you. How could I forget you?” He yanks you on his lap then, you’re grinding against him, hungry and messy in the front of the car, hands enwrapping in his silken white locks as he pulls back, looking up at you, thumbs brushing against your nipples, making you moan. “You really liked me back?”

“Like wasn’t the word, Toru.” The old nickname melts him completely, as the girl he left behind gives him chances he doesn’t deserve.

“You shouldn’t even talk to me.”

“Toru-”

“You shouldn’t. But I can’t help but be greedy with every moment,” he’s kissing down your neck, mouth sucking at the base of it, moaning as he feels your heat against his cock over the layers. “I could never forget you.”

“Y-you’ll keep in touch?” He hates the fear in your voice, lips pulling back, angry you’re insecure when you look and feel like this.

Everything he’s ever had is just a blur now.

“I want more than this, I don’t know how the fuck it works, okay? I don’t know how we… make it happen. But I will never leave you like that. I will never hurt you like that again.”

You lean close, sighing now. “Then show me how badly you wanted me all those years.”

Satoru whimpers at that, hungry and desperate and needy when he slips your dress up your hips, you yank off your coat, tossing it in the chair, as he slips two fingers under your panties, finding you soaked. “God, you think I don’t still want you as bad as I ever did?”

“Show me, mnh!” Satoru’s sunk two fingers and curled them up, moaning as you grip him so tightly.

“Never felt anything like you, god I want you wrapped around me,” he’s looking right up at you as he curls his fingers, your back arches, head falling back, you feel the cool steering wheel against you, feel that gearshift shoving against your thigh, but all you can focus on are his eyes. “Want that, sweetheart? Me stretching her out?”

“Please, please - ngh!” Satoru’s curling them up just right in your gummy walls that grip him so good, hitting that spot his long fingers already know, when you eagerly reach down, unbuckling him, shoving his jacket.

“Cum first, then I’ll take it off.” He teases with a little smirk, and you throw your head back, whining and rolling on his hand. “Look at you.”

His husky words of devotion and his fingers hitting that spot again destroy you, you’re weak and whining, a pathetic mess as the orgasm runs through your body. You’re throbbing around nothing when he pulls them out, sucking you off him and moaning before he yanks off his jacket, and the engine hums under you both when you find his cock, biting your lip at the sight of it.

He’s pretty everywhere, of course, tip blushing pink and oozing milky beads of liquid out of it, his veins wrapping, so long, you’re stroking it slowly, from the base to the tip, watching his eyes flutter shut, hearing his whimpers for you. Supermodel, LA manwhore supreme, who’s been with actresses, models, singers, he is just your Satoru right now though.

You lap at his precum off your thumb, the action wrecking him, he’s ripped your panties now, they’re torn from his fervent grip, the sound echoing in the car, that’s when you really feel his strength, as your hands rest on his shoulders, broad and strong under your touch. You look down at the ruined material as he drags your cunt back against him, and you whine out at it.

“Condoms are in the back in a bag,” he murmurs softly, but you’re too lost now. “Sweetheart…”

“Are you good?”

“Squeaky,” he answers softly. “Are you on…”

“Yes.”

He laughs then, softly. “You know how hard it was to get them, now you’re good me fucking raw?”

“Well now I… hush. Just fuck me - ah!” Satoru needs no further urging, he’s picked you up, and slammed you down on his cock in one mean fucking stroke, making you gasp out at it, so full you can’t take it, eyes rolling back.

“God, fuck…. You’re so tight…” he moans, lifting you up and dragging you back down by your hips, your head smacks the roof and he curses, leaning his seat back to recline more, pulling you down with him. “Hang on to me.”

You do just that, clinging to him in the cramped car, when he holds your hips up and slips down in the seat, fucking up into you. “Ah! S-Satoru!” You’re screaming out, thanking god no one was in this parking lot, as he holds you up with those strong hands, pressing kisses to your neck, your cheek, anywhere he can reach, fucking more of his length up in your hole.

“Fuck, sweetheart,” he moans now, flipping you before you can blink, lifting a thigh up high and sliding his length back in your cunt, eager and greedy she swallows him, as he stuffs her more and more full. The sounds are filthy, your mind whirling, tummy tensing as he slams his cock deeper, harder. “Never felt anything like you, fuck you take me so well.”

“T-Toru…” You can’t form a proper thought any longer, you’re writhing under him, struggling to take his cock, when his tip kisses your cervix you’re shattering, cumming so hard you can’t see.

“That’s it, cum for me. Just me.” He huffs, feeling you grip and spasm around his thick cock, groaning as he pauses, rolling his hips, letting you ride your orgasm out until you have pretty tears falling from your eyes. “That’s it, you’re so good for me.”

“Toru…” It’s all you can keep murmuring, he lets your thigh fall just a bit as your aftershocks pulse around him, moaning as he leans down, kissing you, drinking in the mix of your tears and your sweet saliva.

Mine.

The thoughts keep swirling in his mind.

Mine, mine, mine. He wants you to be only his.

He doesn’t think he can ever leave, he doesn’t know if he can get on that fucking plane, wait weeks in between seeing you. He’s brushing back your hair as your thighs grip his hips, and you’re clinging to him while he slows his strokes, hands running down your body slowly, lips pressing against yours again, drinking all your moans in. You’re so warm, so wet, so perfect.

You are perfect.

Satoru leans over as he yanks you further up in that laid back leather seat, slamming his cock inside you in a brutal stroke, so good you can’t take it, losing yourself in his ardent kisses, his desperate strokes of his huge cock, stretching your cunt out just for him. Your hands slip under his sweater, nails pressing into his skin and earning a husky groan as he pulls back, tip leaking against your cervix.

“Wanna know how many times I stroked my cock, picturing this?” His words are against your ear, making you tremble as images fill your head, him in his glasses stroking it to you.

“How m-many times?” He groans softly, burying his head against your neck, silky white locks brushing against your cheek, you whine out when you feel him thicken inside of you, so full of him, so much pressure it’s unbearably sweet.

“Every day since I knew how to,” you giggle a bit, breathless, but your cunt is just soaking him more as he pulls back, snowy lashes low over his beautiful eyes as they study you, so bright it’s intense. “I thought of it - ah - so many times. Having you.”

“Live up t-to your… mnh… expec-” He cuts you off with a hard stroke, one that has your mouth open in a slutty O, as you gasp out and he drinks in the sight of you, stroking his thick, veiny cock in you again.

“Couldn’t have imagined how good you feel,” he whispers, your eyes are rolled back in your skull, sweat dripping on your brow from the heat of the car and his body over you. “Nothing feels this good.”

“Toru…” You drag his face down for a kiss, it’s so full of everything you’ve always wanted to say, the fear of losing him and the longing for him, while Satoru’s tongue sweeps inside your mouth, a hand cupping your face.

“Wanna cum inside you, fuck,” he’s whispering, mind short circuiting at having the girl of his teenage dreams under him, but it’s so much more than that. “Fill you up, huh? Bring you back with me?”

“Shh, crazy.” He just whines out when you kiss across his neck, teeth nipping an earlobe, his hand entangles hard at the nape of your neck, the other leaving bruises on your thigh as he fucks so deep. “C-can’t just go.”

“I’ll shove you - ah - in the luggage.” You giggle, as he does, breathless, slowing those strokes and eyeing you with a serious expression then, unreadable. “Can’t just be once.”

You nod nervously, too fucked out to really comprehend the future- unwilling to actually, dragging him back down for his kisses, ones you can’t get enough of, ones you dreamt of. How many days did you look at those plump, glossy lips? How many times did you look at those long, elegant fingers and picture them inside you? That body on top of you?

“T-touched myself to you,” your whisper earns his look of shock, he shakes his head just a bit. A supermodel, still just a little insecure, did he not realize how hot he was then, too?

He feels more human like this, when you brush his cheek, biting your lower lip as he rolls his hips achingly slow, crying out as your walls clench him. “You d-didn’t.”

“Y-yes I did, mnh!” Satoru exhales now, leaning up, so tall his head is right against the hood of the car, when he slips your fingers down between the two of you, right where he’s engulfed in your messy, slick cunt. “Ah!”

“Show me, sweetheart. Wanna see.” You blush so cute he can’t stand it, and he watches your little fingers swirl on your clit, moaning at the sight, making you clench around his cock so tight. Your eyes dilate, lids heavy as you look up at him, crying out as he lifts your hood up, pressing your fingers against your clit more firmly. “Like that, for me?”

“Y-yes, for you. You were hot then, too okay- mmm!” You’re jerking under him, hips bucking up.

“Cum one more time, lemme feel her.” You are already pushed over the edge, when he fucks a mean stroke, his tip slipping against your walls, hitting just that spot as your fingers hit your clit just so, and you’re falling apart. “Beautiful, fuck,” his words barely register, you’re lost in your pleasure, hand falling weakly, only for him to grab your fingers, sucking it into his pouty mouth.

“Please,” you’re whispering, watching him suck your juices off you like he’s starved for you, with eyes that are feral and so bright they’re blinding in the dark little car. “Cum in me.”

He pauses then, and you should question yourself, but all you can think of is how bad you want it inside you. “Y-you sure?” His soft, vulnerable words bring together the two Satorus you know, as he nuzzles your palm, whining out as your walls are pulsing around him.

“I want it, please.” He moans now, slamming his lips against yours, hands gripping your hips and lifting you up, arching your hips so he can hit deeper, bottoming out and stuffing your hole. “Toru!”

“Gonna fill you up so fucking good,” he whispers through his teeth, cock pulsing inside your slutty little hole, balls smacking on your ass, while he holds you pinned like that, thumbs pressing into your pelvis. “Ready, can you take it?”

Your answer is a little nod - how are you expected to talk, head shoved back, neck at the weirdest angle in the car, and Satoru is fucking you so hard you can’t see or think, everything is blurry, swirling. He’s sweating, it makes his pale skin glow with a shimmery sheen as it drips onto you, and you just cling to his waist desperately, gasping as he finally busts.

He’s crying out, whimpering as he cums so deep, filling you - no flooding you - with so much cum it’s ridiculous, you feel the hot spurts of it just gushing, as he finally slows, exhaling and looking right at you. His expression is one of utter devotion, when he eases his hold, slowing and looking down at the twitchy mess your thighs are, while you push cum down his length in swirls of white.

“Fuck, sweetheart, my god…” He’s shaking his head, trying to form a word, while his heart pounds, at the sight of filling you up - something he’s never done, but that he couldn’t imagine not doing with you.

He’d give you three kids and a mansion on the fucking beach if he could just look at you like this again, fucked out and so pretty, whining when he eases his cock out, still mostly hard, squelching sound filling the space. He pushes it back in your slick, tight entrance, groaning at the sight, while you’re fluttering your eyes shut.

“Sore.”

“Shit, sorry,” he pulls out and you wince.

“More sore.” He frowns, inspecting your puffy cunt now, opening your lips to watch his cum pouring out in a creamy white string, making him want to shove it right back inside you, fuck three more loads in, it does something insane to him.

“Was I too rough?” You shake your head, he brushes kisses along your brow as he eases you down just a bit. “You sure? Not enough prep?”

“No I wanted it, just it’s been a long time. I think I have bats in there.” He laughs then, so hard he snorts, bringing you back to your little nerd you loved, and you giggle with him.

“Pussy is elite, bats and cobwebs aside.”

“Hey!” You smack at his chest and he laughs again, cupping your face sweetly. “You were eating those cobwebs last night.”

“They’re yummy cobwebs.”

“Really!” He’s laughing again, and it all hits him suddenly, making him falter, lips pressing together then frowning. You look at him with concern now. “Toru?”

He hasn’t been happy.

He didn’t realize it - laughing and acting a fool, joking around with his colleagues and ‘friends’. Has he ever been happy without you, a free moment, a silly moment? Not comfortable enough with anyone, to do more than make conceited, mocking little comments for shits and giggles, when the girl who loved him all along was left here, the missing piece of him.

You’re what’s always been missing, and he caused it.

“Toru,” you’re murmuring that name, the one only you and his mom call him, it’s how deeply you’re ingrained with his life. How deep a part you are, that he set aside for eight years. “Are you okay? Is it… was this too soon?”

“Too soon?” He laughs without humor, resting his head against yours, sensing your confusion. “Waited my whole life for this moment.”

“Don’t say that, please, it’ll hurt more.” He sighs, eyes shutting, drunk and fucked up off you as he was, the self loathing was eating at him.

“I mean it.” Satoru helps you up, adjusting you carefully, and soon you’re in the passenger seat, a flustered mess.

“You don’t have-”

“I’ve never wanted anyone like you.” You look away nervously, slipping back on your jacket, his cum is hot and sticky and dripping, a feeling you’ve never had before, so intimate you can hardly think properly as he says your name, earning your look, he leans over the center console, long fingers fixing your hair carefully. “Where do we go to sleep tonight? I want to hold you.”

“You do?” He nods, swallowing nervously.

“I can get us a suite, or we can go to my room and snuggle in the twin.” You giggle, shaking your head.

“My room, you haven’t been there in years.” He nods then, and soon the two of you are sneaking in your house, tiptoeing like a couple teenagers, it reminds you of all the nights he used to come sleep over, or when you did, those nights you’d try to drop your hints to your oblivious bestie.

“Will your parents get mad?” He teases, earning your shush as you two head up the stairs, your fingers on your lips.

“They might get very mad, bringing a boy home,” your whisper almost ends him, your fingers now entwined as he follows you, feeling like he’s in a dream again, especially when you open your door, and he sees your room. “It’s the same, too.”

“Shit…” He takes it all in, the Sailor Moon posters all over, pictures decorating a corkboard with little fairy lights, the same white daybed and dresser he always remembers you having. A fluffy rainbow rug that screams you back in high school, little Hello Kitty plushies all along your mattress. “God, nothing changed.”

“No, it’s temporary living here, so. I just got rid of my old clothes though, this ass isn’t getting in those jeans.” He snorts at you, gripping your ass then and making you gasp.

“Yeah, no one is complaining about that, though it was always nice. I know, I studied it carefully.”

“Oh, did you?” You look back at him, while he eyes your reflection in your mirror, and then sees his pictures in the corners, swallowing nervously as he reaches over, brushing his fingers against them.

“You had these on your mirror? You didn’t… take them down when you moved back home?” His voice is hoarse, but you shake your head, leaning over to take off your earrings, feeling the tension in him behind you as you bend over, slipping off your bracelets now, they clink as they hit your little glass tray.

“Why would I? I always missed you.” You hate the emotion in your voice, you try to hide it but fail, as he walks to the corkboard, seeing the endless pictures of the two of you together.

He notices you had other pictures of friends, but Satoru was front and center, braces and glasses next to you - a fucking bombshell in a cheerleader outfit. “You wanted that, huh?” He tenses when you smack his arm, hard.

“Don’t talk shit about him.”

“Him?”

You sigh, walking back over to the dresser now, hands brushing the vintage chalk painted wood softly. “It’s hard to connect you two, sometimes.”

“Yeah,” he touches that cheerleader picture of you now, smiling. “You were always such a perky little thing.”

“Perky huh? I don’t feel perky lately.” You mumble a bit, taking off your heels now, when he walks back toward you.

“You’ve been through a lot.” His voice is a husky caress, brushing your hair to the side now, his hands slipping across your bare skin. “And I wasn’t here.”

“You didn’t even know.” Your eyes catch his reflection of him towering over you, so different from the lanky boy you took selfies with in this very mirror, throwing peace signs and laughing. Now he is grown, buff and so huge behind you, self sure hands dancing across your shoulder blades.

“I should have known. I don’t know how you forgive it all,” he sighs, arm wrapping around your waist now, resting his chin on top of your head. “I am sorry you went through it alone.”

You swipe away tears, it feels so perfect in his arms, you want to forget anything that’s coming when tomorrow is the last night with him. “Unzip me?”

He pauses at your whisper, swallowing nervously. At this point he’s seen most of your body, just not fully, the full picture of you. He unzips you slowly, exposing the smooth expanse of your back inch by inch, sighing as more and more of your skin is revealed, down to those dimples on your back. The backs of his fingers brush against your spine, raising goosebumps as they do.

Your eyes lock again, as you let the dress fall to your feet, and Satoru sees your breasts bounce just slightly as the dress falls, and you step out of it, naked for his hungry gaze. He moans softly, slipping his hands up the curves of your body, the sides of your breasts, squishing them in his huge hands in the mirror, making you gasp, your head falling back against his chest.

“God you’re beautiful,” his words have you flustered, his devoted touches, the way his eyes devour you. “Always have been.”

“Toru…”

“Shh.” He steps back, slipping up his sweater, revealing the thick, corded muscles of his arms, the cuts and lines of his perfect abdomen, the lines of his ribs in your softly lit room, reflecting warm light across the planes of it. You have seen most of him, but when he’s down to his boxers, and you’re about to turn, he halts you. “Keep looking at your pretty face.”

You’re overheated again, when he’s on his knees suddenly, grabbing your ass and yanking it to his face. “Ah!”

“Gonna wake your parents, shh.” He teases, chuckling as he laps at your slit, tip of his tongue sliding from your little clit along your slit, up to your ass, filthy licks and sucks, drinking all his cum out of your hole. You can hardly stand it, arching back against him, seeing your flushed, fucked out face in the mirror as he fucking hums against you.

“Mmm!” You cover your mouth with one hand, leaning over the dresser while he worships your cunt far too thoroughly, slurping sounds as he laps up all the remnants of the load he’d busted, mixing with your sweet arousal gushing. You can’t help but move against his face, feeling his chin press against your clit as his tongue fucks your hole deliciously.

His sounds are ridiculous, only making you wetter, reaching around to grip his hair, eyes rolling back at how good his face feels gliding against your cunt. “Mmm, fuck my face, yes baby,” he’s whispering, hands wrapping your thighs as you arch for him. “Keep looking.”

“C-can’t see… mnh…” You’re done for, vision blackening as he curls that wet muscle up in your walls, which quiver as he drags you further on his face, having you cum, screaming your orgasm into your palm weakly. “T-Toru!”

“Mmm,” he’s sucking each lip with a suctioned pop, coated all over his face in your slick, pressing little kisses as he watches you quiver, feels your legs giving out damn near. He finally stands, lifting one of your knees up over your dresser, the other is dangling hopelessly. “I got you.”

“You’re insane!” He’s just chuckling softly, reaching around to wrap one arm under your breasts, the other around your neck, turning your chin to face the reflection once more.

“Look at yourself,” his whisper tickles your ear, his cock slipping inside you, your eyes threaten to flutter shut, so he squeezes your throat. “Look, baby, look at your beautiful fucking face, how good you’re taking me.”

“Toru…”

“Look,” he orders again, shoving his cock up inside you, your eyes catch sight of your blurry reflection, whining out softly and bracing a hand on the mirror, touching the cool glass as you see your fucked out face. “Beautiful, say it.”

“Mmm…” you’re too lost in pleasure to speak, back arching for more of his cock, when he stretches you back out, moaning behind you, slamming up inside you so hard you fucking fall, but he’s just holding you there, arms wrapped, slamming his cock inside again as your hands grip the dresser for some sense of balance. “Satoru!? You can’t just hold me in the air!”

“Sure can, what you scared baby? I got you.” He grins like a psycho now, burying his face against your neck as he fucks into you from the back, your thighs pressing together as you lose yourself completely.

“Put me down, shit,” you’re freaking out being manhandled by this huge man, he laughs softly, placing you down on your bed, it creaks under his heavy weight, he leans over you then, lifting your thigh and laughing again. “You’re so psycho, Hollywood has you insane!?”

“Not used to being tossed around?” He murmurs now, all conceited, but he’s also sweet as he lifts your thigh again, pressing his cock into you as you catch your breath, arms wrapping his neck, fingers carding through his hair.

“Cobwebs and bats.” You whisper teasingly, he moans then, pressing a kiss along your cheek, forehead, your eyes that flutter shut, watching you whine out, back arching up.

“Feel okay, too sore?” He murmurs softly, attentive in his study as you hiss just a bit.

“I’m good, I want this,” he exhales as your words reassure him, and the two of you lose yourself in the bed. He's slow and gentle this time, so the bed doesn’t make the most obnoxious noises. “I want you.”

“I want you.” His fingers entwine, and your eyes lock together when he brings you there again, the intimacy of the moment is so much it’s beautiful then, a mix of filthy and wanton but also beautiful. He’s beautiful, over you, sinking so deep, his lips and fingers anywhere they can reach. “Wanna fill you again.”

“Want you to fill me.” He moans, filling your cunt to the brim again, pulsing so deep inside you as your walls spasm around him, like she’s milking him for all he’s got, while he loses himself in you.

Your scent, your taste, the feel of you, all his senses consumed - your beauty, your sounds, your pulse thudding quickly under his thumb as he pins your wrists up over your head, continuing to fuck his cum deeper inside you. You’re sobbing quietly from your orgasms, your mouth quivering as it meets his every kiss, in the quiet of your room scattered with memories of you both.

When he finally pulls out he’s littering your body with kisses, little apologies whispered everywhere he sees a mark, as if he’s not more than happy to leave marks, little bites all over your collarbone, finger marks bruising your thighs. He hates how good it makes him feel, that if someone came near you they would know you’re his.

Are you his?

The reality is trying to crash into his mind, to sober the beautiful moment, you’re brushing his hair back and he looks up to see they’re fucking with you too.

“I still have the yearbook,” you say softly, he sighs now, sitting up and pulling you to sit with him. “What you wrote? It was beautiful.”

“I remember every word,” he says softly, pulling you against his chest. “I want to be in our own little world, just me and you.”

“Y-yes.” Your tears brush against his neck as the fan overhead tries to cool you both down unsuccessfully. “You said you loved me.”

“I know.”

“Then you said… you didn’t mean it.”

“I know.” He sighs, cupping your face, swallowing with a dry throat, seeing your eyes that night in his head. “I was so embarrassed, I was so scared, but I never let you know - I meant them all. Every word then.”

Was it high school love? Puppy love? - Your mind races, wondering where the two of you stand.

Was this just a beautiful night? Was this another snow globe of you two, about to get shaken up with reality?

There is a knock at the door then, and you quickly dress, Satoru laughs softly as you shove a blanket over him when he throws on his boxers. You walk over to the door, and it’s your mom. “Mom… hey?”

“Oh, Satoru is…” She clears her throat now, when Satoru awkwardly waves, then looks back at you, and you blush furiously. “I thought you were… upset?”

“No, no. Not upset.”

“Well this is awkward.”

“Yep!” Your mom laughs softly, concern lacing her gaze with equal amounts of awkwardness, brushing a lock of your hair back.

“We didn’t know he came to stay too. Satoru, you need some clothes?”

“Yes please?” She heads out and you exhale, covering your face when Satoru chuckles. “You’re twenty six.”

“I know!? But still!” You soon bring him a pair of your dad’s clothes, luckily he’s pretty tall so they decently fit, though the shirt is almost a crop top, making you giggle as you see it. “Now this would be hot as a magazine cover.”

The words are lighthearted, but the deeper reality sets in. He takes the shirt off, smiling a bit. “The pants work.”

“Perfect.” Soon you’re in his arms, the second night in a row.

Was this a beautiful memory?

If you could, you’d stay there forever.

“What time do you leave?” You ask softly, looking back now, his eyes glint in the dark, moonlight streaming in gently.

“I won’t know yet, but it will not be forever. My schedule is super flexible, and I have plenty of money. It's not like I can’t get right on a plane.” Your lips falter a bit. You teach part time, work at the bar part time, in search of a better opportunity for now.

But how would you fit in his life, and would he really want you to when he goes back home?

“Sweetheart, I swear I won’t just disappear.” You put on a smile, kissing him and letting him hold you.

“My feet are cold,” you tease, he chuckles then, tugging you against him, wrapping a leg around you and letting you put your feet on his legs then. “That was what I was going for.”

“You really do have cold feet, ah.” You giggle again, the feeling far, far too perfect, but the gnawing ache in your heart won’t go away.

Would he want you when he went back to the glamour?

You drift to sleep, and Satoru hears your heavy breaths, dreading the moment he had to remove himself from this day bed too damn small for him, the peace and perfection of holding you in his arms. He gently recites the words he wrote all those years ago in your yearbook, stroking your hair like it’s a little bedtime story, until he drifts next to you.

The room is peaceful and quiet as different versions of Satoru and you coexist, smiling pictures of your childhood, awkward middle school photos, high school ones where you can clearly see the changes, and now the two of you - adults. Different worlds, holding each other in the night, not wanting to let go.

I got so into this one I rly hope you all enjoyed it :')

taglist #1- @pinkyvomit @saitamaswifey @kachowness @vraiao @artbligh @psychoartiste @ghostskilledmyaddiction21 @bsenpai @simp-for-wanderer @rjreins @emonaculate @myahfig4 @casua11ycrying @psycren @blushedcheri @ureuphoriasworld @frozenmallows @kanaojacksonofc @rcveriees @xlilycoco @yukimaniac @sypnasis @tokina @sharkubi @tztuoo @hyori2 @yesdere @gradmacoco @gamerhere @seikamuzu @xinsonyax @vvaoo @angie420 @ria54sworld @blue-musingss @mysticmyth @asimpinamillion @arabellasolstice @ilovebeansyay @notme000 @emochosoluvr @iv-vee @heh123321 @fushikamo @danilovesboba @spookyy-gracee @satorusleftnut @clqxuds @femaholicc

[lavrneryo]

co-parenting? no. co-pettying.

pairing — single dad satoru x single mom reader

satoru is just trying to console his crying daughter over her tragic bangs—until he finds out the kid who roasted her is your son. petty parenting, unresolved feelings, and karmic bangs ensue.

a/n: in honor of me getting bangs again. pt 2 later ig

satoru gojo is seething.

not the explosive kind. no, this is a slow, bitter simmer—the kind only young single dads with too much pride, a permanently furrowed brow, and daughters crying over their butchered bangs can manage. he sits on the park bench like it personally offended him, ice cream in one hand, the other arm wrapped protectively around his daughter, who’s still sniffling beside him. the vanilla scoop is melting, forgotten, dripping onto his jeans. he doesn’t care. he’s glaring at the sandbox like it insulted his bloodline.

"and then he said i looked like a mushroom," she sobs again, wiping her nose on the back of her hand. her voice warbles. her eyes are red-rimmed and glassy. her bangs—god. they're a battlefield. uneven, jagged, more suggestion than style. like she challenged a pair of safety scissors to a duel and the scissors didn’t even try.

satoru bends forward, crouching beside her like he’s about to deliver a sacred truth. his long fingers gently cup her tear-streaked face, the scar on his knuckle catching the sunlight as he exhales dramatically. "you are beautiful," he says, like he means it, like he’s declaring something holy. "you look like a high-fashion mushroom. like... couture fungus. like the kind of mushroom anna wintour would cry over."

his daughter hiccups through a giggle. small win.

he pushes her hair behind her ears, lets out a sigh that feels older than he is. he’s only twenty-two, but the weight in his shoulders says thirty-five. he ruffles her hair. "who was it?" he asks, too calm. that special, terrifyingly pleasant calm dads get when they’re about to ruin some six-year-old’s entire lineage.

"hiro," she says, almost sulking now. "he laughed and said i looked like a button mushroom. his mom picked him up after school. she gave me a candy and told me boys are dumb. she was really pretty."

hiro.

satoru blinks. that's your kid. he stares ahead, almost offended by the realization. the same hiro who offered his daughter a capri sun last week like he was proposing marriage. the same hiro who now, apparently, inherited your pettiness like it’s a family heirloom.

he remembers it all too well.

the way you stormed down the hallway in high school, bangs equally doomed, fire in your eyes, shouting at him for the fourth time that month. you always looked cutest when you were mad. he’d called you mushroom head and dodged a flying highlighter.

in his defense, he was sixteen and stupid and thought the way your face twisted in outrage was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. he was in love. tragically, stupidly in love. he just expressed it by emotionally terrorizing you every fourth period chemistry class.

now your six-year-old is carrying the baton like a prodigy. divine retribution, with extra glitter.

he sees you a few days later.

the playground buzzes with kids and shrieks and parents scrolling phones with mild exhaustion. you’re sitting on a low stone wall near the swings, sunglasses pushed into your hair, drink in hand, scrolling your phone with one finger and the smuggest smirk he’s ever seen. your earrings catch the late afternoon sun. your nails are fresh. you’re the picture of composed pettiness.

"gojo satoru," you say sweetly, like you’re greeting a man you’d happily watch trip over a lego.

the way your mouth curves around his name is criminal. he hates how much he notices that. hates how fast his ears burn. he adjusts the collar of his hoodie, trying to look unaffected.

he gives you a dry look. "heard your kid's been practicing stand-up comedy. at my daughter's expense."

you hum, tilting your head. "is that what we’re calling emotional resilience these days? because if he gets it from anyone, it’s me."

satoru eyes you. his hoodie’s stained with dried syrup, there’s a faint bruise on his temple—cabinet incident. his posture’s a little slumped, like sleep is a distant fantasy. he scratches the back of his neck. his fingers tap a silent beat against his thigh.

"he called her a mushroom."

"a cute mushroom," you counter, not missing a beat. "like, toad from mario. he’s a legend."

you sip your iced latte without breaking eye contact. he scowls.

"you taught him that."

"you say that like i wouldn’t weaponize shared trauma."

the corner of his mouth twitches. your words are sweet and soaked in petty, and it’s driving him insane. you’re too calm about it. too good at this.

"you’re enjoying this."

"oh, i’m thriving," you say, leaning back slightly, letting the breeze catch your shirt. "do you know how many years i waited for the universe to do this? it’s like my karmic investment finally matured."

his jaw ticks. "i was a kid. you were cute when you were homicidal."

you laugh, but there’s a bite to it. "i was feral, satoru. you made me snap a pencil with my bare hands."

"still the hottest thing i’ve seen."

the words slip. he bites the inside of his cheek too late. his eyes flick up, reading your face, then quickly dart away.

you blink, slowly. your lips part, but nothing comes out at first. then you scoff, shaking your head with a little smirk, like you’re filing that away for later.

hiro runs past then, thrusting a friendship bracelet toward satoru’s daughter. it’s neon pink, too tight, barely holding together. she takes it like it’s the crown jewels. behind them, someone’s kid faceplants into the mulch. a mom sighs deeply without looking up from her kindle.

"see?" you say, lifting your brows, voice light but smug. "my kid has more emotional intelligence than you did at seventeen."

"okay, that’s—"

"—true," you interrupt, standing. you stretch lazily, fingers laced above your head. your shirt rides up slightly, revealing a hint of skin. he notices. his eyes snap away too fast.

you glance down, lips curling with practiced sweetness. "how’s it feel? to be on the receiving end of the mushroom prophecy?"

"is this revenge?"

"no," you say, brushing invisible lint from your jeans. "this is me being a good mom. and maybe also petty. definitely petty."

and then—god—you wink. like this is your sitcom and he’s still the fool in love.

satoru groans, slumping on the bench, hands dragging down his face. beside him, his daughter is giggling, her butchered bangs fluttering as she tugs hiro toward the slides.

across from him, your laughter rings out—soft, wicked, triumphant. it curls through the air like the ghost of a grudge with perfect eyeliner, like the echo of a high school hallway where a boy once said "mushroom head" and a girl nearly committed homicide with a highlighter.

god. he’s losing a custody battle against karma. and karma’s wearing lip gloss.

and maybe—maybe—he still loves you. he just hasn’t figured out how to say it without biting his tongue.

he watches you walk away, heart pounding, throat tight. he never said it. maybe he never will. but god—you still do something to him.

and maybe that's the real punishment.

not the bangs. not the karma.

just the ache of wanting you, after all this time.

[lavrneryo]

Got Me Looking so Crazy Right Now

Politician!Suguru who is loved by his people, doing his job as a public servant without any records of corruption. He frequently visits places in the country himself to evaluate his term's performance. He connects with the people, often asking them for feedback towards his administration's leadership so he could work on more improvements while elected.

Politician!Suguru who usually stays in his office way beyond office hours, assessing and signing towers of paperwork. He prefers seeing the project proposals and other reports first hand rather than assigning them to his secretary and other executives. Talk about workaholic.

Politician!Suguru who is usually calm and stoic, only smiling politely when necessary, does his best to always look put together and respectable. His long hair neatly arranged into a bun, glasses perched on top of his nose, suit and tie tailored to fit him so well. He also always has his name pin and brooch pinned into his suit.

Politician!Suguru who's extremely over-educated. He isn't afraid to call out injustices and discrepancies within the industry of politics, even on national media. That is why he's feared and idolized at the same time.

Politician!Suguru who frequently entertains interviews, especially if they are about his plans for the upcoming years. Though it cannot be helped that people become a little too curious, sometimes prying into his personal life and asking him when he'll have a first lady, since he has never publicly talked or even entertained the idea of a relationship. He'll immediately dismiss the idea, claiming his first priority is public service.

Politician!Suguru who almost always declines when he is invited to a formal party, saying seeing other politicians who pretend to be so high and mighty while profiting off of the people disgust him more than words can express, claiming attending such events are a waste of his time and he'd much rather attend to his work matters instead. Except this time, he was forced to go by his assistant. He internally groans, but figures it wouldn't be so bad for a change.

Politician!Suguru who sees you there, young and relatively new to the industry. He wasn't completely clueless, of course, he's watched interviews of you before. He can say that you spoke very eloquently and you seemed like you knew what you were doing. Though he wasn't one to judge based off of a couple of interviews, he knows politicians are also great actors. Safe to say you sparked his interest.

Politician!Suguru then asks his assistant about you, to which his assistant immediately decides that it would be a great idea to approach you and introduce him, adding too much unnecessary information and pizzazz to his name which causes him to grimace slightly as he notices your amused smile.

He then shakes your hand, giving you a smile and a polite nod as his assistant scurries away to mingle with more people of authority, probably off to humble-brag about working for him. You return the gesture, introducing yourself formally. He stands next to you, leaning on the glass railing of the luxurious venue, drink in hand.

As the night deepens, you feel yourself loosening up a bit more around him. You've found out he's almost the same age as you, albeit a bit older, and that he views others the same as you do, mumbling something about "lying, stuck-up, pretentious pigs", in which you giggle at. Politician!Suguru smiles, hearing your giggle for the first time that night.

Politician!Suguru also finds out a lot about you. He figured you were an honest public servant who wanted nothing but equal rights, transparency with the use of public funds, proper taxation and just living wages. He was impressed with how passionate you sounded talking about your occupation, to say the least.

You both exchange numbers that night, personal ones, which he never does, he only has his family saved on his personal phone. (but ofc he won't tell you that). His chauffeur and assistant exchange questionable glances on the way home. Often times, he'd ask to be taken home early. Claiming he still has work to do. Except this time he smiles at his phone, looking at a picture you both took, in which you were both smiling and clinking your glasses together. He might've just found his first lady.

_____________________________________________________________

first time writing smth, I NEEDED TO GET THIS OUT OF MY HEAD PLS,,,,,some power play maybe???? idk part 2 will probably be smut hehe plz don't b mean i'm sawft hashashsas geto except he's a politician and not a cult leader PLUS he's actually good ykykyk yes

[lavrneryo]

with the language barrier between you and satoru combined with your lackluster skills in understanding japanese, you find that satoru often calls you by words you don’t exactly know the meaning to. it irritates you bc he won’t tell you what he’s saying or explain — and neither will anyone else. but based on the reactions from his coworkers and students you assume it must be bad from how their eyes widen in disbelief. shoko might ask if you two are dating to which you shake your head feverishly in disagreement to get your point across. with that, she’ll give you an odd stare and mumble a knowing “hm, okay…” under her breath. it irks you a little bc you don’t understand how the two things could ever correlate when that doofus is making fun of you in his native tongue. you realize only later that the names satoru has been calling you this whole time are along the lines of “my love” and “beautiful” and other endearing terms people use to refer to each other as their spouse or significant other, that the weird looks you’ve garnered from everyone is them trying to figure out what you mean to him while satoru himself is scared to find out too

[lavrneryo]

Got Me Looking so Crazy Right Now

Politician!Suguru who is loved by his people, doing his job as a public servant without any records of corruption. He frequently visits places in the country himself to evaluate his term's performance. He connects with the people, often asking them for feedback towards his administration's leadership so he could work on more improvements while elected.

Politician!Suguru who usually stays in his office way beyond office hours, assessing and signing towers of paperwork. He prefers seeing the project proposals and other reports first hand rather than assigning them to his secretary and other executives. Talk about workaholic.

Politician!Suguru who is usually calm and stoic, only smiling politely when necessary, does his best to always look put together and respectable. His long hair neatly arranged into a bun, glasses perched on top of his nose, suit and tie tailored to fit him so well. He also always has his name pin and brooch pinned into his suit.

Politician!Suguru who's extremely over-educated. He isn't afraid to call out injustices and discrepancies within the industry of politics, even on national media. That is why he's feared and idolized at the same time.

Politician!Suguru who frequently entertains interviews, especially if they are about his plans for the upcoming years. Though it cannot be helped that people become a little too curious, sometimes prying into his personal life and asking him when he'll have a first lady, since he has never publicly talked or even entertained the idea of a relationship. He'll immediately dismiss the idea, claiming his first priority is public service.

Politician!Suguru who almost always declines when he is invited to a formal party, saying seeing other politicians who pretend to be so high and mighty while profiting off of the people disgust him more than words can express, claiming attending such events are a waste of his time and he'd much rather attend to his work matters instead. Except this time, he was forced to go by his assistant. He internally groans, but figures it wouldn't be so bad for a change.

Politician!Suguru who sees you there, young and relatively new to the industry. He wasn't completely clueless, of course, he's watched interviews of you before. He can say that you spoke very eloquently and you seemed like you knew what you were doing. Though he wasn't one to judge based off of a couple of interviews, he knows politicians are also great actors. Safe to say you sparked his interest.

Politician!Suguru then asks his assistant about you, to which his assistant immediately decides that it would be a great idea to approach you and introduce him, adding too much unnecessary information and pizzazz to his name which causes him to grimace slightly as he notices your amused smile.

He then shakes your hand, giving you a smile and a polite nod as his assistant scurries away to mingle with more people of authority, probably off to humble-brag about working for him. You return the gesture, introducing yourself formally. He stands next to you, leaning on the glass railing of the luxurious venue, drink in hand.

As the night deepens, you feel yourself loosening up a bit more around him. You've found out he's almost the same age as you, albeit a bit older, and that he views others the same as you do, mumbling something about "lying, stuck-up, pretentious pigs", in which you giggle at. Politician!Suguru smiles, hearing your giggle for the first time that night.

Politician!Suguru also finds out a lot about you. He figured you were an honest public servant who wanted nothing but equal rights, transparency with the use of public funds, proper taxation and just living wages. He was impressed with how passionate you sounded talking about your occupation, to say the least.

You both exchange numbers that night, personal ones, which he never does, he only has his family saved on his personal phone. (but ofc he won't tell you that). His chauffeur and assistant exchange questionable glances on the way home. Often times, he'd ask to be taken home early. Claiming he still has work to do. Except this time he smiles at his phone, looking at a picture you both took, in which you were both smiling and clinking your glasses together. He might've just found his first lady.

_____________________________________________________________

first time writing smth, I NEEDED TO GET THIS OUT OF MY HEAD PLS,,,,,some power play maybe???? idk part 2 will probably be smut hehe plz don't b mean i'm sawft hashashsas geto except he's a politician and not a cult leader PLUS he's actually good ykykyk yes

[lavrneryo]

gentle somno, cnc, creampie ... ୨ৎ afab!reader

✦ thinking about suguru coming home late one night, ridiculously hammered from a work event with his head pounding, only to find you, his sweet wife, sleeping on the sofa, your shorts riding up your plush thighs—rosy lips parted just slightly.

his first thought is that you probably dozed off waiting up for him. closed your eyes for a second before your exhaustion overtook you, as it has so many times before. the notion brings a clumsy smile to his face, and before he knows it, he’s drunkenly giggling to himself. thinks, fuck, i'm so lucky.

his second thought, however, is.... far less pure. hits him suddenly as he nears you, gets a glimpse of your skin up close, smells that familiar, signature, honeyed sweetness of your body wash that he just fucking adores.

and without warning, his cock is rising in his trousers, throbbing with a raw need, and he’s on you in a second.

belt buckle undone, trousers unzipped, he’s pulling out his stiff cock and swaying over you as he struggles to tug your bottoms off in his drunken stupor. it takes him a couple tries—a few, really—but eventually he gets it, shoves it down your legs until it tangles at your ankles, a groan caught in his throat upon discovering only your glistening, bare cunt.

no panties?, he thinks. were you trying to surprise him with a little gift for when he came home? is....this the gift? your cunt?

he doesn’t dwell on the question for long.

he gives himself a few experimental tugs before he’s gently sliding inside of you with an ease that makes him suspect you prepped yourself beforehand. the thought makes him release a pathetic, gasping moan.

i'm so fucking lucky, he thinks again. because how many other men have a partner who is willing to offer themselves on a silver platter just to please them? how many others have that synergy? that trust? that devotion?

suguru rocks into you with sloppy thrusts, nearly melts at the sensation of your soft, velvety cunt, nearly cums, too, but he holds it down. grabs your hips to angle you just right, fingernails biting into your soft skin, and (he blames this on the alchohol. the lack of restraint) starts whining as your tight cunt starts clenching down around him. squeezes him in such a delightful way he fears all the veins in his head might pop!

“f-fuck, that’s s’good.” he whispers, grunting softly, eyes screwed shut with an unfathomable amount of pleasure.

he doesn’t know what—maybe it’s the thrill of it all, of the taking. it’s taboo nature. the stigma that surrounds it—but after a few more thrusts and groans, he’s shuddering as he cums in your poor, little abused cunt, filling you to the brim and covering the skin at the crux of your thighs with his hot, white seed.

he leaves it there—leaves you full—doesn’t bother cleaning up.

that’s his little ‘thank you’ gift for you to wake up to…

[lavrneryo]

good things will happen 🧿

things that are meant to be will fall into place 🧿

[lavrneryo]

“But if you forget to reblog Madame Zeroni, you and your family will be cursed for always and eternity.”

[lavrneryo]

✽ GOOD TO ME ⸺ ₍ s. gojo ! ₎

Now, Gojo was a mess. Not the kind of mess people expected from the hockey team’s most popular player. No, this was the kind of mess that followed sleepless nights and endless regrets. You had decided to forgive him after spending a few nights at a friend’s house, going back to his apartment with the promise that if he ever did that again he would never see you again. Still, you couldn’t help but feel a little sad everytime you pictured him kissing another girl. That’s why a part of you—a sadistic part that you’re not proud of—secretly enjoyed how he seemed to be doing everything he could to make you happy.

★ [N]SFW CONTENT + hockey player!gojo + fem!reader + he's truly pathetic + crying and begging + soft dom!gojo + dacryphilia + munch!gojo + pussy drunk!gojo + cunnilingus + fingering + size kink+ + dirty talk + marking + manhandling + unprotected sex + cream pie + petnames ( baby, princess, sweetheart, angel ) + praise kink + light angst.

Gojo Satoru was never one to shy away from fun. He loved parties, the kind of easy chaos they brought. But this time, that carefree attitude cost him a lot.

It had been one stupid kiss—one thoughtless, drunken moment at a party he barely remembered the details of. A friend of a friend had leaned in, and instead of pulling away, his judgment clouded by alcohol and the charged atmosphere, he’d let it happen. It was nothing, meant nothing, but the moment your tear-filled eyes met his after you found out, he knew he’d shattered something sacred.

Now, Gojo was a mess. Not the kind of mess people expected from the hockey team’s most popular player. No, this was the kind of mess that followed sleepless nights and endless regrets. You had decided to forgive him after spending a few nights at a friend’s house, going back to his apartment with the promise that if he ever did that again he would never see you again. Still, you couldn’t help but feel a little bit sad everytime you pictured him kissing another girl.

That’s why a part of you—a sadistic part that you’re not proud of—secretly enjoyed how he seemed to be doing everything he could to make you happy.

The first thing he did was cut ties with the habits that had led him astray. He stopped drinking, not even glancing at a bottle when he was out with friends. Then, he stopped going to the frat parties. No more late nights with old friends, no more excuses about it being “just a party.” He even turned down invitations that he knew wouldn’t involve alcohol or temptation, choosing instead to spend his evenings at home.

Home, where you still barely acknowledged his presence.

It didn’t deter him. Satoru threw himself into regaining your trust with an almost frantic energy. He woke up earlier than you every morning to prepare your coffee, meticulously remembering the way you liked it. On the counter, next to the cup, he’d leave a sticky note. Each one bore a variation of the same message: I’m sorry. I love you. Sometimes he wrote long apologies, pouring out his guilt in messy handwriting, and other times he kept it simple—just three words: Please forgive me.

He cleaned the apartment from top to bottom without you asking. The laundry was always folded, the dishes were washed and put away, and even the tiniest crumbs on the counter were wiped up. He’d never been one to notice the details before, but now he obsessed over them, desperate to make your life even the smallest bit easier.

When he wasn’t tidying or cooking meals you barely touched, he tried to anticipate your needs. If you were studying until late, he’d leave a warm meal on the table. If you mentioned something offhandedly—needing a new notebook or running low on your favorite snacks—he made sure they were waiting for you the next day.

Despite everything, a part of you couldn’t help but notice his efforts. There was something almost pathetic and adorable in how he clung to the hope of your forgiveness, trying to turn your cold answers into small talk, asking how your day was and if you needed anything.

What really made you falter was one particular evening when you were at home, buried in your notes. The steady rhythm of studying had managed to keep your mind off him for a while, but then your phone buzzed with a notification. You hesitated, torn between ignoring it and indulging in your curiosity.

Your resolve wavered the moment you noticed it was from Satoru—and it had a photo attached. Against your better judgment, you opened it.

The image stopped you in your tracks. It was Satoru in his hockey uniform, sitting on the bench after what was clearly an intense practice. His silver hair was a disheveled mess, damp from sweat. His flushed cheeks glowed faintly under the bright arena lights, and the slight sheen on his face made it clear just how hard he’d been pushing himself. But it was his expression that struck you the most—those impossibly blue eyes, wide and pleading, gazing up at the camera like a scolded puppy seeking comfort.

Satoru: image_01.png Satoru: miss ya, babe. 

It made you bite your lip.

You couldn’t focus on anything else, deciding to stay up and wait for him with no plan in mind, not knowing if you’d want to talk about the state of your relationship or break up for good. You just needed to see him.

You found yourself sitting on the couch, wrapped in a blanket, staring at the door. It wasn’t a conscious decision to wait for him; you’d just… ended up there, the quiet hope of seeing him again anchoring you in place. When the faint sound of his key in the lock finally broke the silence, your heart leapt. The door creaked open, and there he was—still in his hockey gear, his hair a little damp from the night air. He stepped inside softly, clearly trying not to make noise.

He thought you’d be asleep.

The moment he turned and saw you sitting on the couch, his whole demeanor changed. His eyes widened slightly in surprise, and then they softened, that familiar warmth slipping back into his expression.

“You’re awake?” he asked, his voice gentle, almost hesitant, as he shut the door behind him.

“I wanted to see you,” you admitted, your tone softer than you expected. 

For a moment, neither of you spoke. The tension that had built between you over the past weeks hung in the air, but it felt different now—fragile but not unbreakable.

Satoru took a tentative step closer, then another, until he was standing right in front of you. “I’ve missed you,” he said quietly, his voice raw with sincerity.

You looked up at him, the frustration and hurt you’d been holding onto starting to unravel. There was something about the way he stood there, still slightly flushed from practice, his eyes brimming with hope and vulnerability, that made it impossible to keep the wall around your heart intact.

“I missed you too,” you whispered, and the words were all he needed.

He sank down onto the couch beside you, his movements careful, as if afraid to push too far. But when you didn’t pull away, when you let him sit close enough for his knee to brush against yours, his hand reached out, tentative but firm, to take yours.

“I’m sorry,” he said, his voice breaking slightly. “For everything. I’ve been trying so hard to make it right, but—”

You cut him off by leaning into him, resting your head against his shoulder. It wasn’t an outright forgiveness, but it was enough for now. His arms came around you, tentative at first, then tighter when he realized you weren’t pulling away. For the first time in weeks, Satoru felt like he could breathe again. The weight of guilt that had been crushing him lifted just slightly, replaced by the warmth of your presence. He pressed a soft kiss to the top of your head, his silent promise to do better, to never hurt you again.

You turn your body in his direction, the back of his fingers caressed your cheek softly as if he’s trying not to break you. You see his eyes lowering and staring at your lips, he takes a deep breath before opening his mouth.

“Can I kiss you?”

You'd be lying if you said you didn't miss him, especially now looking at him, with the black compression shirt that he usually wears under his uniform so tight to his body you can see his pecs under it. Maybe spending some time apart did something good. You can't take your eyes away from the way he waits for your response with wide blue eyes and parted mouth, his hand now gripping your chin softly.

"Yes, Satoru, you can kiss me."

The kiss was soft at first, tentative, almost shy—so unlike the confident, teasing man you were used to. His lips brushed against yours gently, testing the waters, but the moment you leaned into him, your hand slipping to rest on his chest, it was as though the dam broke.

His other hand came up to cradle your face, his fingers threading into your hair as he deepened the kiss. The black compression shirt he wore was warm under your palm, his steady heartbeat thrumming against your touch. You could feel the tension in his body, the way he was holding himself back, afraid to push too far too quickly.

But you didn’t want restraint—not now, not with him. You needed to feel he was yours. Only yours.

Your fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt, pulling him closer as his lips moved against yours with more urgency. His hand slid from your chin to your jaw, then down to your neck, his thumb brushing lightly over your skin in a way that sent shivers down your spine. He kissed you like he was trying to pour every ounce of his regret, his longing, and his love into the moment, and for the first time in weeks, you let yourself feel it.

Satoru pushes you gently so you're lying on the couch, his broad form towering over you as his hands grab your eyes, fingers deepening into your plump skin.

“Missed my pretty girl so fuckin’ bad,” he whispers against your neck. “You missed me, baby?”

You nod, “Yes, Satoru, so bad.” 

He seems happy with your response, licking his lips before pressing his thigh against your clothed core. It doesn’t feel awkward, not even after everything that led to your temporary separation. Being with Satoru feels like stepping into something both unfamiliar and deeply familiar all at once—like discovering something new yet instinctively knowing every part of it. 

You watch as he tugs his shirt up, tossing it aside so he can press himself against your body and feel your hands caressing his bare abdomen. Satoru gently pulls your top over your head, immediately pressing his face against your chest, desperately worshipping your breasts with his hands and mouth, lips wrapping around your nipple as his teeth softly graze against it to make you squirm.

He sucks on your chest with an almost sadistic attention, watching the purple-ish marks bloom in your skin until he's satisfied enough to trail the kisses down to your stomach.

"Want me to eat you out, baby?" he asks, piercing eyes looking up at your face, smirking when you spread your legs further so he can comfortably place himself between them. "Gonna eat this pussy so fuckin' good, baby, you just gotta let me, hum?"

Your toes curl at his furrowed brows and parted lips, like he's about to explode just from the possibility of fucking you.

"Yeah, do it, please,."

You see the way his eyes light up at your response, his fingers quickly find their way to your shorts and underwear, pulling them down together with one fast tug.

You've known Satoru long enough to know he's never one to shy away from intimacy, but watching him pressing his nose against your pussy and french kissing your clit was now definitely on the list of the hottest things he’s ever done. His warm tongue gave a good lick all over your cunt, coating the soft skin with his saliva so he can pay more attention to your clit. You feel the pad of his fingers spreading your labia, making it easier for him to close his lips around the and suck on it deliciously slowly.

“Please, please, please, oh my God!” Your hands desperately grab his hair, fingers gently tugging the white strands.

Satoru mewled against your pussy, moaning at how warm and wet you felt against his mouth. He would never get tired of this; just holding you down and burying his face into your cunt, feeling your scent sticking to his skin as he rubs his face against you, curiously discovering every little spot inside you that made you cry out as he inserts one finger inside you.

“Fuck, I could do this forever, pretty girl,” he lifts his head from your pussy, eyes sparkling at how well you take his fingers as he presses another one into you. Your eyes roll when his knuckles brush against your sweet spot, he scissors his digits with an almost scary expertise, as if he knows exactly what you wanted and how you wanted. “That’s it, baby, gonna cum on my fingers? Fuck, you look so good I wanna taste it when you cum.” 

“S-Satoru, don’t stop!” you plead as he fucks you faster with his fingers, thumb rubbing circles against your swollen clit.

“Not gonna stop, angel, not until you’re crying for me.”

You clench hard around his digits, feeling the heat growing inside your tummy as he thrusts his fingers a few more times until you cum, a broken moan escaping your lips, legs shaking, your cunt fluttering as it coats his fingers with your creamy arousal. Satoru curses under his breath and you can’t help but whine when he presses his face against your pussy again, cheeks and lips smeared with your juices. You watch him taking his fingers out of you and putting them inside his mouth, he hums in pleasure like he’s about to devour you.

Satoru always looks ethereal like that.

Sweaty glistening skin, chest breathing heavily and face stained with your own cum. And before you can blink he's all over you again, pushing your legs to your chest and freeing his hard cock from his sweatpants, not caring to take them off completely, not when you're all whiny and spread open in front of him. He holds his heavy shaft in his hand, rubbing the pink tip against your clit and coating it with your juices.

"Want this, sweetheart?" he asks, prodding your wet entrance with his cock which makes you roll your hips pathetically. "This dick is all yours, baby. How about you put it inside your little pussy, hum?"

Your face burns hot but you nod anyways, reaching for his cock and wrapping your palm around it, Satoru watches with hungry eyes while you line it up with entrance, rubbing it against your pussy for a few seconds before sliding it inside.

"Fuck," you bite your lip, just as entranced by the scene as your boyfriend.

"Too big for my baby's little pussy?" he teases, thrusting his hips forward and watching his own cock slipping in with ease. "You always take me so well, princess. The best fucking pussy in the whole world."

Your eyes roll at the stretch, feeling your walls fluttering around his cock as he pushes your knees to your chest, putting you in his favorite position to fuck you. This way he can watch your pretty eyes watering as he fucks you against the couch, watch the way your pussy swallow his dick and rub your puffy clit with his thumb. It hits so deep inside of you that you swear you see stars every time you blink, all you see is Satoru's incessant thrusts against you as he supports himself on his arm on the side of your head.

"Fuck, cum on my cock, baby," he breathes, rubbing your clit vigoursly as he pounds with more strength, feeling his own orgasm getting closer with how warm and tight you feel around him, tears brinkling at the corner of his eyes. “Cum for me, baby, please? Be my good girl and cum on my dick, angel. Gonna make you feel so fuckin’ good, fuck.” It's borderline madness, Satoru’s hips faltering as he curses, hard and paused thrusts watching you fall apart in front of his eyes and he can only think about how much he missed you. “Cum for me, baby, c’mon, pretty girl.”

Your body obeys him, following a hoarse groan that falls from his lips, nails sinking in his broad shoulders. He thrusts a few more times before cumming as well, locking his hips against yours as to keep his seed deep inside you, the warm liquid filling your insides. You can only try to catch your breath as Satoru holds you tightly against him, burying his face in the crook of your neck. 

“I love you so fuckin’ much,” he mutters with a shaky voice and you feel his tears dripping on your skin. 

Your arms wrap around him, kissing the top of his head.

For the first time in what felt like forever, things felt right again. And as Satoru pulled you closer, his nose brushing against your temple, you couldn’t help but feel that maybe, just maybe, you could find your way back to each other.