Whee

But no matter how many times you swore you weren’t secretly obsessed with her and that there was no fucking shrine hidden in your closet or under your bed, she’d been saying the same shit long enough that no one believed you. 

“Can you just leave me alone?” You frowned, forcing your way through the crowd to get past her as she called out some other teasing remark about you going to rub one out. 

Loathing couldn’t quite suffice for just how much you couldn’t stand her.

Hate boiling and burning beneath your skin every time she hurled a new taunt your way, when she’d find you eating lunch in a single bathroom stall just to make your meals hell too, mocking you with glossy lips and a glittering smile while the rest of your class treated her like an angel even when her antics annoyed them. 

And when the girl that could do no wrong wished the worst for you, well, it seemed the worst was all you got. 

The rest of the student body had started treating you like shit too. Sneering and scolding you for staring, everyone convinced you had to be some sort of predator just because she said you liked girls. 

People didn’t grin at you in the hallways. 

Just glared. 

Your room had been ransacked a few times, clothes tattered and wrecked with staff that didn’t care to scold them. Your lunches knocked out of your hand. Stupid notes stuck to your back during class. 

There wasn’t a single person in this fucking place that wanted to be your friend. 

But you guessed it didn’t matter. 

You didn’t have that much longer left stuck here. 

Graduation was coming up soon – and despite the hell boarding school had been, the scholarship you’d been granted to attend had set you up for a pretty nice looking future. One without Toru. 

You locked the door to your room behind you, dropping your bag to the ground before collapsing onto your bed. Exhaling as your eyes shut, a migraine budding behind them from spending another day attempting to avoid her and failing miserably. 

Rolling over to pluck your phone from your pocket, your mouth reflexively curled up into a smile at the name on the screen. The one bright light in the midst of this pit of misery filled with pretty girls who thought you were pining after them and tried to punish you for it. 

All of them absolutely clueless that you were already taken. 

By a man they would definitely be desperate to call theirs too. 

You’d been seeing Satoshi for two years. 

Sorta. 

You hadn’t officially met him yet. Not when you started talking through a dating app. Back then, you’d been craving any company so much you had caved and downloaded a bunch. And you had lucked out to land an equally lonely person. 

Your relationship had been fairly casual at first, late night conversations where you stayed up until your eyes were sore and you nearly fell asleep sitting up in half your classes. Things had picked up this past year, the photos that used to be half your face or whatever you were doing escalating to more…intimate images. His questions turned more personal too, picking apart your brain until he knew probably more about you than anyone you’d ever met before. 

Sure, it wasn’t conventional. But he had sent plenty of his own questionable pictures and voice messages to quell any of your suspicions. He never asked for money either, instead showering you with attention and sending you expensive gifts (although everyone on your floor was convinced you were spending what little money you had sending them to yourself). He was wearing a uniform from an all-boys boarding school not all that far away in a lot of them – but between sports and classes and busy schedules, neither of you had been able to arrange a proper meet up. 

Until this weekend. 

Finally, you’d be able to do something other than giggle and grin at the photos of his pretty washboard abs and replay his thick, groggy good morning messages. 

He made reservations at a fancy hotel nearby, promising that he’d be waiting for you there with the biggest bouquet he could buy and wearing his best outfit in blue, sending you sweet messages about how badly he was aching to be yours in person instead of just online. 

Most people would think you made him up. 

And honestly, at first, when you tried to dispel the rumors and whispers about you being a lesbian by protesting and bringing up that you literally had a boyfriend, but when he actually went to another school, no one would believe you. 

Eventually, you gave up. Stopped seeing a point in swearing the truth when everyone else would always prefer the lie. 

It gave them someone lower on the totem pole to push around. 

Kept them safe from Toru’s reign of terror. 

Why would they listen? 

You told yourself that you were almost free. So fucking close to being out of her reach. 

They could all worship at her feet and follow her around like the lost puppies they were. You weren’t going to be a loser lingering in her shadow forever. Not when you still had your support in Satoshi. 

A new notification buzzed on your phone, breath catching in your throat in anticipation as you clicked on it too fast, before you could even read it. 

You should’ve looked. 

An unknown number and a nasty word stared back at you, your fingers automatically moving to block the number and delete it with a frown. 

Immediately re-opening your messages with Satoshi as you sniffled a little, too exhausted to keep the swirling emotions inside you at bay as you sent a short message, biting your lip until you tasted the blood on your tongue. 

Can you talk right now?

ε✿з

“Please, please, please, please-” 

“God, do you ever shut up?” Suguru groaned, rubbing his temple while Toru thrusted the phone in his face. 

“But I need your help,” she whined, pouting harder as he squinted at the messages. 

“You said you’d tell your girlfriend last month,” he annoyingly reminded her, brows knitting together in irritation as he reluctantly took the phone anyway, readjusting on his bed after she unceremoniously burst into his room after getting a ride all the way to their rival boarding school. “Don’t particularly feel like doing this for two more years.” 

God, what good was a best friend if they wouldn’t help in a time of need? Wasn’t he supposed to be a wingman?

“I’m telling her this weekend,” Toru frowned back, folding her arms across her chest as she glanced around his dorm room. It was honestly cleaner than hers, in shades of gray and green instead of the soft blue she was used to. Books actually neatly stacked on his desk instead of scattered haphazardly on every surface. “I wanna make it romantic. Like, book a hotel room and everything.”  

Buy you flowers, maybe an expensive set of lingerie, have them scatter rose petals over the bed and leave champagne on the table. Book a couples massage and take you out to a fancy dinner? Sure, she’d probably have to apologize for being a bit of a bitch to you over the years, but once you saw how serious she was about being in a relationship with you, couldn’t you just let bygones by bygones? 

Suguru arched one of those thin eyebrows, giving her one of those irksome looks that implied he didn’t think it was a good idea. 

But he was a man. 

What did they know? 

“You think she’s going to take it well?” He tentatively asked, and she couldn’t help scoff. 

“She likes Satoshi. Satoshi is me,” she simply said, gesturing with her hands as if it should be obvious. “Besides, shouldn’t she be grateful for my attention? Anyone would be.”

Suguru laughed, like it was a joke. 

But she just scowled back at him, completely serious as she tried to get what he didn’t get about the whole thing. 

Whoever got to be with her was the lucky one. 

Toru was beyond beautiful. Wealthy. Wore the best clothes and went to all the best vacation spots every year. Who wouldn’t want to be hers? 

It was just common sense. 

She’d been worshipped from the day she was born. It wasn’t like she was expecting you to do the same. She just wanted you to see how fortunate you were to have her favor. 

God, any girl would die to be in your shoes. Guys too, actually, beg for her attention and crawl on their knees for the tiniest slice of the attention she gave you. 

Sure, maybe she wasn’t always good at getting it across verbally, but she couldn’t risk someone else sneaking in and stealing your attention! Besides, her mouth seemed to always speak for itself around you, never saying exactly what she intended to when all her brain could think of was the shape of your lips and how your uniform clung to your tits since she’d bribed the office to keep sending you the size down. 

She could admit that she could be a little aggressive, but she just wanted you to finally fucking admit that you wanted her too. Not just play hard to get and avoid her all the damn time.

“She’s probably just going to complain about you,” Suguru warned her, jealousy flaring up in her chest as she ran her fingers through her hair. 

What the hell did he know? 

At least you were talking about her. 

Toru would rather your thoughts revolve around her than to be nothing to you at all. 

“She was definitely checking out my tits today,” she defensively argued, even though Suguru was still making an annoying face at her. So what if he didn’t believe her? 

You had, hadn’t you? This wasn’t just totally in her head? 

Maybe you didn’t even realize you’d done it. Toru had been trying her hardest to get you to see that you were obviously a lesbian like her, that the two of you were clearly compatible.

“Uh-huh,” he mumbled, and she wanted to yank the pillow out from underneath his head and smother him with it. 

“Are you going to call her or not?” She pouted, returning to the point as he slowly scrolled through the messages.

She imagined you back in your own bed, maybe biting your pretty lips until they were swollen, breaking the skin as you waited for a response. Would you let Toru lick the blood off if you knew it was her on the other end? 

“For fifty bucks,” he exhaled, and she once again contemplated suffocating him. 

But she was still shrugging down her purse, digging through its messy contents to pull out a hundred and toss it at him. 

“You’re such a dick,” she derisively huffed, even though she had started this whole arrangement by promising to pay him a couple years ago. Begging him to let her use his photos to catfish you, and despite his initial moral protests that it was wrong, blah blah blah, he eventually caved in. 

It wasn’t ever supposed to last this long. 

She meant to tell you months ago. But there were always pesky little flies buzzing around every time she tried to talk to you at school, and she couldn’t get the correct words to leave her lips when everyone was always watching the two of you together. 

God, even when she tried to talk to you in the bathroom when you ate your lunch in there alone, people still fucking followed her. 

“You better pull your pants down a little and snap a pic if I’m paying you,” she hissed at her only actual friend, just for Suguru to roll his eyes at her again from his lazy position on the bed. 

God, did she have to do everything herself?

She climbed on top, grabbing his slacks by the hips and wiggling it down as low as she could without revealing his disgusting dick. She didn't really understand what you could possibly find appealing about the obviously inferior gender, but maybe it was just because you didn't know better yet. Hadn't seen what her pretty tits looked like without her uniform covering them or properly experienced a woman’s touch. 

“Are you serious-” 

Toru ignored Suguru, tugging his shirt up too and snagging the phone back, carefully angling it to snap a photo that captured his dark happy trail, the defined muscles and ridges of his abs and hitting send. 

It was almost instantly marked as seen. 

She stared at the screen, willing your response, wishing for something in return and grinning wildly when you sent an image back. 

Your uniform removed to reveal your gorgeous tits pressed together in a pretty white bra. Had you picked it out for her? Or well, Satoshi? Your face wasn’t in it, but she could imagine what expression you were making. How your lashes might flutter, how your bottom lip might push out. 

Were you touching yourself? 

“Do you still want me to call her or do you wanna go rub one out?” Suguru sarcastically asked, his voice thick with sleep from the nap she ‘rudely’ interrupted. 

“Ask her to send a video of her doing that,” she demanded, holding the phone back out while he let out a low exhale, shutting his eyes like he hadn’t meant to sign up for that.

“Do I at least get to watch the video if she sends it?” He grumbled, and Toru glared back at him, folding her arms across her chest as she gritted her teeth. 

“Fine,” she begrudgingly accepted. 

It was only natural, she supposed. She spent almost every day bragging to him about how gorgeous you were, rambling about all the cute faces you made and funny things you’d said. Of course, he’d want to experience the little pieces of you Toru was generous enough to share. 

He took the phone, hitting the call button as Toru gestured for him to put in on speaker while it rang. He did, and you only took a second to answer. 

“Hi,” your soft voice breathed on the other end, and a jolt of excitement shot through Toru. 

You sounded so adorable. She just wanted to take a bite. Sink her teeth into you so deep you’d be stuck with the bite marks for the rest of your life. 

“Hey, pretty girl,” Suguru greeted, keeping a straight face while Toru suppressed actually giggling at the light sound of your pretty laughter through the phone. 

“What are you doing?” You asked, all sweet and sincere. 

“Just thinkin’ about you,” Suguru smoothly replied. Toru couldn’t help rolling her eyes at him, having a hard time believing any girl could actually be stupid enough to-

“Really?” 

Nevermind. 

This was exactly why you needed Toru. Sure, Suguru was her best friend, but moronic men like him would never be able to take care of you like she could! 

“I liked that photo you sent me,” he murmured into the phone, pitching his voice down while Toru’s nails bit into her palm, imprinting half-circles into them as she heard your breathing hitch on the other end. 

“Y-yeah?” You stuttered a little bit, as precious as always. A little awkward, too, but that was part of what made you so addicting. What made Toru so desperate to be the one you were stammering and stumbling over your words for. “I liked yours.” 

“You wanna show me just how much?” Suguru spoke slowly, leaving the implication up in the air for you to jump to your own conclusion. 

To decide just how badly you wanted to please Satoshi. 

“You want another photo?” You asked after a moment, temptation teetering there. Toru was dying to touch you. Be there in your bed as she heard your sheets rustling underneath your body through the grainy line. Replaying all the pretty expressions you’d worn in the hall earlier, imagining how different the one you had on now was. 

“I want more, angel,” Suguru replied, immediately reminding Toru that you still didn’t know you were hers yet, still enveloped in this boy version of her that she and Suguru fabricated. “Are you touching yourself for me?” 

“Maybe,” you shyly said, close enough to a confession. 

“Think you could record it for me, sweetheart?” He hummed, careful not to sound demanding, just issuing a little dare she knew you would take out of fear of disappointing him.

“If you really want me to,” you hesitantly replied, all light and airy. Barely needing to be nudged to agree to send a video of your breathy moans, one where your fingers would slip underneath your matching panties as you cried out after someone that never really existed. 

“Good girl.” 

You didn’t even ask him not to show anyone else. 

Just blindly trusted him. 

Would you still feel the same when you knew it was really her? Follow her lead and stay on her leash? 

Sometimes, you sorta reminded Toru of a lost little lamb. One she had to shepherd back into place. It wasn’t like she was trying to put the crook around your neck, to pull you close, but she’d do what she had to just to have you. 

ε✿з

Be there in five. Can’t wait for you to finally be mine.  

“Can I help you, miss?” A hotel employee startled you, blinking hard a few times in surprise as you swallowed hard and shook your head.

“I’m, um, just waiting on someone,” you answered with a tight smile, grateful when they seemed to accept that answer, nodding politely and walking away as you rested against the wall rather than taking a seat on one of the stiff couches clustered together by coffee tables nearby. 

You were too anxious to sit. 

Nerves racing under your skin as you continuously checked the time, smoothing out the skirt you picked out and glancing down at the revealing shirt you’d chosen after he made a comment about how much he was looking forward to burying his face against your breasts. 

But as minute five came and passed, you still hadn’t spotted a single sign of him. 

You felt like an idiot, chewing on the inside of your cheek as you kept scanning the lobby for a glimpse of blue like he promised. Pulling up your phone to read and reread his latest message for comfort. 

Fingers tapping the keyboard, typing out a message to ask if he was close only to delete it and try to reword it, wasting another few minutes struggling to come up with something not totally desperate to say only to come up empty. 

A familiar giggle made your blood run cold. 

In a single instant, your mood was spoiled, rotten, head snapping in trepidation as you saw the blue you were searching for at the receptionist’s desk. Just on the wrong person. 

A tight blue dress clinging to the hips of your least favorite person, pushing her boobs up and riding high on her thighs as she turned towards you, eyes locking onto yours like she already knew you’d be here. 

The receptionist passed her two keycards, and she had to readjust the huge bouquet of flowers in her hand to grab it before she started walking towards you, her tall heels clicking against the tiled lobby. 

“Don’t you look adorable?” She smiled at you. Smiled. You were pretty sure your brain short-circuited. Overwhelmed by the fact a compliment had left her lips with not a hint of cruelty. Perhaps a sliver of condescension, but unless your stare was suddenly deceiving you (and you so badly wished it was) she actually appeared genuine. 

“W-what are you-” You started stammering, heat rushing up to your face as she stepped even closer, looking down at you with amusement glittering in her pretty eyes as she pushed the flowers into your arms.

“I'm Satoshi, silly,” she hummed, her mouth curling up in a smirk that just screamed she was proud of her scheme. 

“No, no,” you bluntly said, struggling to breathe when her words threatened to unravel years of a relationship you’d been clinging to, counting on to keep your sanity intact. “He called me. Sent me voice messages, photos-” 

“I had to get my friend Suguru to help,” she admitted, fake sympathy in her practiced smile as she reached out and touched your cheek. Caressed it with her soft fingers while you stood there in too much shock to recoil. “But all the conversations were me, sweetheart.” 

Sweetheart. 

The word had never made you feel so fucking sick before. 

Satoshi had called you that all the time. But he was apparently her, and the realization that all your raw vulnerabilities, all the times you poured your heart and soul out just for Toru to be on the receiving end. All those reassurances you’d hung onto, the pretty words you copied down into diaries and woven into your brain, they all belonged to her. 

Betrayal burning through you as you tried to process the depth of their deception. How many layers to it were there? How much time had she spent just to keep up this charade? Pretending to be a fucking man to what?  

Humiliate you even more than she did on a daily basis? 

“Am I just a sick joke to you?” You asked, voice thick with hurt you couldn't hide anymore. She tormented you for years. What the hell else were you supposed to think? 

“You're my girlfriend?” She retorted, tilting her head to the side as if she couldn't understand what you were confused about. 

“You hate me,” you pointed out, mentally replaying every mean word out of her mouth from the day you met. All the times she accused you of wanting to have sex with her and basically being a lovesick loser. 

“I like you,” she corrected you, and you got the distinct impression this wasn't exactly the reaction she'd been expecting from you. 

And in the next thick pause, the silence where you stared at her with an open mouth, you realized that perhaps she'd been projecting. 

That maybe the obsessed one had been her all along. 

You stepped back, shaking your head as you heard yourself scoff. 

“Do you just want me to say sorry?” Toru asked, her glittery lip gloss catching the light as she dramatically pouted. “I am, you know, I just get so excited when I see you, it’s hard to hold it in.” 

You blinked. 

Her eyes shifted down to your chest, openly ogling you as pink bloomed against her pretty cheeks, her fingers slipping back into your hair like you were a couple. 

As if, in any universe, this could be considered normal. 

You wanted to scream. 

To storm off and slam the glass door behind you. 

Go back to your room and cry into the pillow after you scrubbed every stupid photo and video you ever saved of Satoshi from your phone. 

This wasn’t supposed to happen. You were supposed to graduate and get as far from Toru as possible, find a place with your boyfriend and start a new life where you could forget about the past few years you’d spent here. 

“What did I do to ever deserve you doing this to me?” You breathed, a hot lump forming in your throat as you tried to hold back the sob that wanted to break out. Hyper aware of how hard you tried on your makeup this morning, how much time you’d spent picking out what to wear and how to style your hair, desperate to impress someone who apparently didn’t even exist. 

The tears were welling up anyway, heavy in your lashes and collecting in the corners of your eyes as you felt the stares of people passing by. The whispering you’d gotten used to whenever you were around Toru. 

Her face scrunched up, her annoyingly pretty mouth parting as she moved her hand to drag her thumb underneath your eyes. Wiping away your tears while she tilted her head to the side, loose waves bouncing in time with her huff, “Are you seriously crying?” 

“You catfished me,” you said, hating how crushed you sounded. But you were. In a handful of seconds, she had decimated any ounce of your confidence you had left. Reduced you to rubble under her stupid red-bottomed heels and then rubbed it into the glossy tiles you were standing on. “You’ve been calling me a lesbian for years, but you-” 

“That’s because you are one,” she said, perfectly plucked brows knitting together tightly as she took a small step closer. Almost enough for both your chests to touch, her eyes drifting back down for what felt like the twentieth time at your shirt. “I mean, I am too, was it not obvious?” 

No, it absolutely wasn’t fucking obvious, but the way she said it was enough to make you freeze. 

Honestly, if anything, you thought she was a little homophobic before this, but you didn’t know how she’d take that. 

“Come on, you can just admit that you were crushing on me, you don’t have to keep-” You made some sound at her insane statement, pure disgust mixing with the scoff that escaped. 

“I hate you,” you half-whispered. Loathing burning in those three short words as you tried to find the strength to move. But she didn’t flinch. Just pursed her lips together as she batted her soft, white lashes at you. 

“You told Satoshi you loved him last night,” she so unhelpfully reminded you, speaking slowly as if she was giving you time to think between her words. “That means you love me.” 

“I-” 

You couldn’t even get out what you wanted to say when she started twirling a loose strand of your hair around one of her long fingers. 

Was she actually trying to seduce you? 

Her chest pressed against yours, not sparing so much as a glance to anyone else in the lobby despite how much attention she had to know she was drawing as you felt her tits through her thin dress rubbing against yours like you were playing the starring role in a cheap porno. 

“Think about all those late nights we stayed up together,” she purred, looking down at you the same way she always did, and you wondered how you ever could have missed the hunger in them before. 

Well, that wasn’t quite true. You’d seen it. 

You just hadn’t realized what she was starving for. 

“All those times we talked about our families and our lives and what we wanted to do with them. All the stuff we wanted to do together,” Toru hummed, her nose nearly brushing against yours now too. You were struggling to wrap your head around the idea of her being the one you spilled everything too. Fuck, how many times had you complained to her about her? 

“I didn’t know-” You started, but she made a soft shushing sound that somehow shut you up. 

“We can still do all of it,” she promised, like you had any interest in any of it now that you knew what a fool you’d been for putting your trust in someone you never actually knew. In her. “Me and you.” 

You got the impression in your already flustered brain that she was trying to be romantic. 

That this was all supposed to be some grand gesture to show you that her feelings were genuine. 

But it just felt like fresh embarrassment. 

Your heart slamming against your rib cage while your thoughts ran in the same panicked circles, falling apart in front of a room full of strangers.

It sort of felt like you were being proposed to in public. Forced to say yes to not seem like a total asshole when everyone else was probably convinced she was earnestly confessing to you. 

And after years of being around her, you already had the experience to know the universe would always side with her. 

“What do you expect me to say?” You finally spoke, flat-out dumbfounded as your voice trembled. Her treachery was already twisting into something else in your stomach, your body attempting to turn it into something flattering just so you could cope with it. The intoxicating scent of her perfume stuffing your nostrils and clouding your thinking as you struggled to sort out all the different emotions rattling around inside you. 

The hurt and the heartache and the conflicting feelings of loss and longing for someone that wasn’t there. The scariest part was that some sliver of you was starting to consider Toru. 

Starting to want her. 

Acknowledging that you couldn’t actually have Satoshi, and coming to the conclusion that she was the closest fucking thing you had. 

The thought itself was incredibly depressing. 

“I love you, Toru?” She offered, doing her own impression of your voice. 

“I don’t,” you argued, although you weren’t sure how convincing it actually came out when her proximity left your voice quivering. 

“What? You only loved me as a boy then?” She grinded her sharp canines, not quite glaring, but clearly unhappy as her blue eyes bored into yours. 

“How was I supposed to know my boyfriend was you?” 

Other than the fact he was obviously too good to be true. A guy like that would never be interested in you. No, the only person who was, apparently, was your insane classmate who’d been pretending to be a man for two years just to get you to fall for her.  

You almost wished this was simply blackmail. That she just wanted to hold your humiliation over your head.

This felt so much worse. So much ickier. 

Especially when your body was beginning to betray your mind just with her touch, her scent, warping what your senses with her cruel fingers and soft skin. 

“A girlfriend is way better than a boyfriend,” she huffed at you, rolling her eyes like you should already know that. 

“You want to be my girlfriend?” You asked, meant to be rhetorical rather than serious. But her eyes lit up, lips lifting up into a blinding smile as she nodded. 

“Duh.” 

No. No. No. 

This could not be-

“Let’s go check out our room,” she hummed, effortlessly changing the subject as she backed off only to grab your wrist. Throwing an annoyed look over her shoulder at all the passerbys who had not-so-subtly paused to watch whatever was happening between both of you. “So annoying how people are always obsessed with me.” 

Too blind to see how much of a hypocrite she was being.

You were too stunned to stop her. Feet uselessly following after her as her pale fingertips dug deeper into your skin, dragging you around like you were just an accessory on her arm. 

Feeling almost like you were floating along, trying to tell yourself that this was all just some fucked-up dream you’d wake up from before you got there. 

But you didn’t. 

Just standing there like an idiot when she was holding the keycard up to the door, glancing down to realize you were still holding the flowers in your other limp hand. 

The saddest part was you were pretty sure no one else would give you anything as remotely nice as these. 

“I wasn’t trying to ask you to be-” You tried one more time, but she was already opening the door and pulling you in. 

“You know, you’re kinda being ungrateful,” she huffed, shutting the door with a heavy thud as she dropped her designer purse on the floor. You didn’t even think she knew how much it cost. Probably just purchased it without considering how many meals that much money could’ve bought someone else. 

“I’m ungrateful?” You echoed, hurt coiling hot in your core as you stared in disbelief at her in front of you. You wanted it to be hurt, at least, forcing yourself to look away only to find rose petals all over the floor. 

She reached around to start pulling down the zipper of her dress, stepping out of her heels without pausing before shimmying her clothes off. 

Shit. 

She wasn’t wearing a fucking shred underneath. 

You weren’t a lesbian. At least, you were pretty sure you weren’t a lesbian. But something was fluttering inside you against your will at the subtle bounce of her breasts when she bent over to pick up a rose petal and pinch it between her fingers, pouting like she was disappointed by the color of them. 

“I mean, you have me in front of you, and you’re not even appreciating it,” she complained. 

“If you’re expecting me to beg for you-” you started, awkwardly turning to place the flowers on the closest table, but that only gave her the opportunity to move closer. To bridge the gap between you. 

“I’m not,” she argued back, but the mischievous little grin on her face was enough to cast doubt. “But you will anyway.” 

Your mouth fell open, and it felt like she had your heart in her fist, squeezing it to watch the blood slowly drip out. 

“I’ve seen how pretty you look begging,” she murmured, and that heat simmering inside you just creeped higher, flooding your face as you realized what she meant. Remembered all those videos you’d sent her thinking Satoshi was seeing them. “Wanna hear it for myself.” 

And before you could even deal with the notion that Toru had a plethora of videos of you masturbating stashed away, that she probably had fingered herself to you, she was kissing you. 

She tasted like candy. 

Sugary sweet gloss melting onto your lips as her mouth messily collided with yours. You froze for a few moments, but your lips started to kiss her back. Parting to let her tongue slip in as you were torn between telling her to stop and letting this continue. 

What could you do? 

What should you do? 

If she sent those videos to anyone, your life would be fucking ruined. But you didn’t want to just be Toru’s pet, something she doted on in secret and embarrassed in public. 

And at the same time, your body was reacting to hers almost instinctively, leaning forward instead of pulling away, despite your arms falling to your side, unsure if you could even touch her back. 

Toru, on the other hand, was grabbing a handful of your ass – and one of your tits too. Groping and squeezing while her tongue explored your mouth like she owned it all. 

Maybe if you gave into her now, if you let her have this, have you this once, you could still just leave anyway after graduation. Change your number when you changed cities, fuck, maybe changed countries if it meant getting away from the war she was waging between your head and heart. 

“You’re such a bitch,” you breathed when she broke the kiss, knowing that if she kissed you again, you weren’t going to stop her either. 

She laughed. At that, or maybe just at you. 

And then she was grabbing your hips, twisting you around and guiding you back to the bed, pushing you down on it hard enough to knock the air from your chest. 

“Don’t be a brat,” she pouted, pushing her glossy lips out as she easily rolled up your little skirt around your hips. Grinning at the sight of your lacy little panties, the pure white shade that came a little too close to her hair that she quickly pulled down around your thighs next.

“I’m not a-” 

Your words died in your throat as she slipped a delicate finger inside your warmth before you could protest what exactly you were. No better than a bitch in heat when just an experimental circle had a broken gasp escaping your mouth. 

She smiled at you again, pride and amusement shining like stars in her blue stare. You supposed she’d just found a new way to play with her favorite toy. 

“You’re so cute,” she complimented, climbing on top of you, her knee nudging your thighs further apart as her other hand trailed underneath your shirt. 

You swallowed hard. You knew you should say something else. 

Tell her to fuck off. 

But nothing came out. 

All the words dried up as she dragged her finger even deeper inside you. 

And then added another digit. Slowly getting to work stretching you open, feeling the way your walls started to squeeze down reflexively as she held your stare hostage. 

“You wanna tell me just how much you don’t like me?” She condescendingly hummed, daring you to disagree with her. 

“Do you hate me?” You asked instead, still struggling to wrap your head around the fact this was happening, no longer confident in something you had been certain of an hour ago. That somehow, you were proving her right. That just by being underneath her like this, with the taste of her candied lip gloss on your mouth and her fingers stuffing you full, you had become exactly what she said you were. 

A loser in love with her. 

You tried to tell yourself again that you weren’t. 

“I’m literally, like, in love with you,” she pouted, a hint of a familiar whine in it like she was sick of saying the same thing in different ways. “What do I have to do to make you see that, hm, pretty?” 

Probably erase the past few years from your memory, but you had a feeling she might engineer something like a car accident if it had the chance to cause retrograde amnesia – and force you to let her take care of you. 

And then her thumb drifted over your clit, and you forgot what you were thinking anyway with the soft pressure she applied. 

“Doesn’t it feel good?” She hummed, begging to rub careful circles over it, your body tensing as your chest tightened at the sensation. Your overheating core threatened to send shivers down your spine as her fingertips prodded deeper, faster. 

“T-Toru-” You didn’t know what you were even trying to say, brows knitting together as sweat started to drip down your forehead, everything inside you quickly grew all fuzzy. 

“You know, no one else could make you feel this good, sweetheart,” she said, teasing you as her thumb pressed that sensitive bud between your thighs like it was a goddamn button. 

Activating an embarrassingly primal part of your brain as you felt the pleasure build closer towards a climax you couldn’t believe you might be having. 

“No one else will ever know you like I do,” Toru continued, and you loathed that she might be correct. You told her everything. Every thought. Every secret. Every dream. You didn’t think you’d ever be able to trust anyone else like that again. “Love you like I do.” 

You wanted to hate this as much as you hated her. 

But her fingers were longer than yours, hitting spots you couldn't on your own as she slipped a third one in, swirling it around to tease you with that pretty, lilting laugh of hers. 

“Look at you,” she cooed, still mocking you even when you were in her hotel bed. “Soaked on my fingers like a slut.” 

You were.

Shaking and squirming as her fingers pumped in and out of you, whimpering weakly as she played you like a goddamn instrument. You knew you were going to cum. 

Knew that she’d won. 

Toru had made a mess of you. Unravelled you into a million little pieces that probably would never be put back together again. 

“That’s it, my pretty little lamb,” she cooed, and you wished your head was a little clearer to understand what she giggled about next. Your thighs trembling when she finally crooked her fingers just right, her thumb dragging over your clit with the perfect amount of pressure to finally make you cum for her. 

Your eyes drifting down to her bare body over you, her perfect tits, her flawless skin, the shape of her hips and thighs as her fingers worked in and out of you, her thumb working you through your orgasm as you broke. 

Bent into something unrecognizable under her pressure, her presence, blinking as your brain basically stopped functioning when she filled it with just thoughts of her. 

Watching numbly when she stood up and walked to her bag and back, white hair spilling over her shoulder as she tilted her head to the side to look at the phone in her hand, squinting at the screen as she angled it to capture where you were splayed out in the bleached white sheets. 

“Say cheese.” 

reblogs + comments always appreciated angels <3

But no matter how many times you swore you weren’t secretly obsessed with her and that there was no fucking shrine hidden in your closet or under your bed, she’d been saying the same shit long enough that no one believed you. 

“Can you just leave me alone?” You frowned, forcing your way through the crowd to get past her as she called out some other teasing remark about you going to rub one out. 

Loathing couldn’t quite suffice for just how much you couldn’t stand her.

Hate boiling and burning beneath your skin every time she hurled a new taunt your way, when she’d find you eating lunch in a single bathroom stall just to make your meals hell too, mocking you with glossy lips and a glittering smile while the rest of your class treated her like an angel even when her antics annoyed them. 

And when the girl that could do no wrong wished the worst for you, well, it seemed the worst was all you got. 

The rest of the student body had started treating you like shit too. Sneering and scolding you for staring, everyone convinced you had to be some sort of predator just because she said you liked girls. 

People didn’t grin at you in the hallways. 

Just glared. 

Your room had been ransacked a few times, clothes tattered and wrecked with staff that didn’t care to scold them. Your lunches knocked out of your hand. Stupid notes stuck to your back during class. 

There wasn’t a single person in this fucking place that wanted to be your friend. 

But you guessed it didn’t matter. 

You didn’t have that much longer left stuck here. 

Graduation was coming up soon – and despite the hell boarding school had been, the scholarship you’d been granted to attend had set you up for a pretty nice looking future. One without Toru. 

You locked the door to your room behind you, dropping your bag to the ground before collapsing onto your bed. Exhaling as your eyes shut, a migraine budding behind them from spending another day attempting to avoid her and failing miserably. 

Rolling over to pluck your phone from your pocket, your mouth reflexively curled up into a smile at the name on the screen. The one bright light in the midst of this pit of misery filled with pretty girls who thought you were pining after them and tried to punish you for it. 

All of them absolutely clueless that you were already taken. 

By a man they would definitely be desperate to call theirs too. 

You’d been seeing Satoshi for two years. 

Sorta. 

You hadn’t officially met him yet. Not when you started talking through a dating app. Back then, you’d been craving any company so much you had caved and downloaded a bunch. And you had lucked out to land an equally lonely person. 

Your relationship had been fairly casual at first, late night conversations where you stayed up until your eyes were sore and you nearly fell asleep sitting up in half your classes. Things had picked up this past year, the photos that used to be half your face or whatever you were doing escalating to more…intimate images. His questions turned more personal too, picking apart your brain until he knew probably more about you than anyone you’d ever met before. 

Sure, it wasn’t conventional. But he had sent plenty of his own questionable pictures and voice messages to quell any of your suspicions. He never asked for money either, instead showering you with attention and sending you expensive gifts (although everyone on your floor was convinced you were spending what little money you had sending them to yourself). He was wearing a uniform from an all-boys boarding school not all that far away in a lot of them – but between sports and classes and busy schedules, neither of you had been able to arrange a proper meet up. 

Until this weekend. 

Finally, you’d be able to do something other than giggle and grin at the photos of his pretty washboard abs and replay his thick, groggy good morning messages. 

He made reservations at a fancy hotel nearby, promising that he’d be waiting for you there with the biggest bouquet he could buy and wearing his best outfit in blue, sending you sweet messages about how badly he was aching to be yours in person instead of just online. 

Most people would think you made him up. 

And honestly, at first, when you tried to dispel the rumors and whispers about you being a lesbian by protesting and bringing up that you literally had a boyfriend, but when he actually went to another school, no one would believe you. 

Eventually, you gave up. Stopped seeing a point in swearing the truth when everyone else would always prefer the lie. 

It gave them someone lower on the totem pole to push around. 

Kept them safe from Toru’s reign of terror. 

Why would they listen? 

You told yourself that you were almost free. So fucking close to being out of her reach. 

They could all worship at her feet and follow her around like the lost puppies they were. You weren’t going to be a loser lingering in her shadow forever. Not when you still had your support in Satoshi. 

A new notification buzzed on your phone, breath catching in your throat in anticipation as you clicked on it too fast, before you could even read it. 

You should’ve looked. 

An unknown number and a nasty word stared back at you, your fingers automatically moving to block the number and delete it with a frown. 

Immediately re-opening your messages with Satoshi as you sniffled a little, too exhausted to keep the swirling emotions inside you at bay as you sent a short message, biting your lip until you tasted the blood on your tongue. 

Can you talk right now?

ε✿з

“Please, please, please, please-” 

“God, do you ever shut up?” Suguru groaned, rubbing his temple while Toru thrusted the phone in his face. 

“But I need your help,” she whined, pouting harder as he squinted at the messages. 

“You said you’d tell your girlfriend last month,” he annoyingly reminded her, brows knitting together in irritation as he reluctantly took the phone anyway, readjusting on his bed after she unceremoniously burst into his room after getting a ride all the way to their rival boarding school. “Don’t particularly feel like doing this for two more years.” 

God, what good was a best friend if they wouldn’t help in a time of need? Wasn’t he supposed to be a wingman?

“I’m telling her this weekend,” Toru frowned back, folding her arms across her chest as she glanced around his dorm room. It was honestly cleaner than hers, in shades of gray and green instead of the soft blue she was used to. Books actually neatly stacked on his desk instead of scattered haphazardly on every surface. “I wanna make it romantic. Like, book a hotel room and everything.”  

Buy you flowers, maybe an expensive set of lingerie, have them scatter rose petals over the bed and leave champagne on the table. Book a couples massage and take you out to a fancy dinner? Sure, she’d probably have to apologize for being a bit of a bitch to you over the years, but once you saw how serious she was about being in a relationship with you, couldn’t you just let bygones by bygones? 

Suguru arched one of those thin eyebrows, giving her one of those irksome looks that implied he didn’t think it was a good idea. 

But he was a man. 

What did they know? 

“You think she’s going to take it well?” He tentatively asked, and she couldn’t help scoff. 

“She likes Satoshi. Satoshi is me,” she simply said, gesturing with her hands as if it should be obvious. “Besides, shouldn’t she be grateful for my attention? Anyone would be.”

Suguru laughed, like it was a joke. 

But she just scowled back at him, completely serious as she tried to get what he didn’t get about the whole thing. 

Whoever got to be with her was the lucky one. 

Toru was beyond beautiful. Wealthy. Wore the best clothes and went to all the best vacation spots every year. Who wouldn’t want to be hers? 

It was just common sense. 

She’d been worshipped from the day she was born. It wasn’t like she was expecting you to do the same. She just wanted you to see how fortunate you were to have her favor. 

God, any girl would die to be in your shoes. Guys too, actually, beg for her attention and crawl on their knees for the tiniest slice of the attention she gave you. 

Sure, maybe she wasn’t always good at getting it across verbally, but she couldn’t risk someone else sneaking in and stealing your attention! Besides, her mouth seemed to always speak for itself around you, never saying exactly what she intended to when all her brain could think of was the shape of your lips and how your uniform clung to your tits since she’d bribed the office to keep sending you the size down. 

She could admit that she could be a little aggressive, but she just wanted you to finally fucking admit that you wanted her too. Not just play hard to get and avoid her all the damn time.

“She’s probably just going to complain about you,” Suguru warned her, jealousy flaring up in her chest as she ran her fingers through her hair. 

What the hell did he know? 

At least you were talking about her. 

Toru would rather your thoughts revolve around her than to be nothing to you at all. 

“She was definitely checking out my tits today,” she defensively argued, even though Suguru was still making an annoying face at her. So what if he didn’t believe her? 

You had, hadn’t you? This wasn’t just totally in her head? 

Maybe you didn’t even realize you’d done it. Toru had been trying her hardest to get you to see that you were obviously a lesbian like her, that the two of you were clearly compatible.

“Uh-huh,” he mumbled, and she wanted to yank the pillow out from underneath his head and smother him with it. 

“Are you going to call her or not?” She pouted, returning to the point as he slowly scrolled through the messages.

She imagined you back in your own bed, maybe biting your pretty lips until they were swollen, breaking the skin as you waited for a response. Would you let Toru lick the blood off if you knew it was her on the other end? 

“For fifty bucks,” he exhaled, and she once again contemplated suffocating him. 

But she was still shrugging down her purse, digging through its messy contents to pull out a hundred and toss it at him. 

“You’re such a dick,” she derisively huffed, even though she had started this whole arrangement by promising to pay him a couple years ago. Begging him to let her use his photos to catfish you, and despite his initial moral protests that it was wrong, blah blah blah, he eventually caved in. 

It wasn’t ever supposed to last this long. 

She meant to tell you months ago. But there were always pesky little flies buzzing around every time she tried to talk to you at school, and she couldn’t get the correct words to leave her lips when everyone was always watching the two of you together. 

God, even when she tried to talk to you in the bathroom when you ate your lunch in there alone, people still fucking followed her. 

“You better pull your pants down a little and snap a pic if I’m paying you,” she hissed at her only actual friend, just for Suguru to roll his eyes at her again from his lazy position on the bed. 

God, did she have to do everything herself?

She climbed on top, grabbing his slacks by the hips and wiggling it down as low as she could without revealing his disgusting dick. She didn't really understand what you could possibly find appealing about the obviously inferior gender, but maybe it was just because you didn't know better yet. Hadn't seen what her pretty tits looked like without her uniform covering them or properly experienced a woman’s touch. 

“Are you serious-” 

Toru ignored Suguru, tugging his shirt up too and snagging the phone back, carefully angling it to snap a photo that captured his dark happy trail, the defined muscles and ridges of his abs and hitting send. 

It was almost instantly marked as seen. 

She stared at the screen, willing your response, wishing for something in return and grinning wildly when you sent an image back. 

Your uniform removed to reveal your gorgeous tits pressed together in a pretty white bra. Had you picked it out for her? Or well, Satoshi? Your face wasn’t in it, but she could imagine what expression you were making. How your lashes might flutter, how your bottom lip might push out. 

Were you touching yourself? 

“Do you still want me to call her or do you wanna go rub one out?” Suguru sarcastically asked, his voice thick with sleep from the nap she ‘rudely’ interrupted. 

“Ask her to send a video of her doing that,” she demanded, holding the phone back out while he let out a low exhale, shutting his eyes like he hadn’t meant to sign up for that.

“Do I at least get to watch the video if she sends it?” He grumbled, and Toru glared back at him, folding her arms across her chest as she gritted her teeth. 

“Fine,” she begrudgingly accepted. 

It was only natural, she supposed. She spent almost every day bragging to him about how gorgeous you were, rambling about all the cute faces you made and funny things you’d said. Of course, he’d want to experience the little pieces of you Toru was generous enough to share. 

He took the phone, hitting the call button as Toru gestured for him to put in on speaker while it rang. He did, and you only took a second to answer. 

“Hi,” your soft voice breathed on the other end, and a jolt of excitement shot through Toru. 

You sounded so adorable. She just wanted to take a bite. Sink her teeth into you so deep you’d be stuck with the bite marks for the rest of your life. 

“Hey, pretty girl,” Suguru greeted, keeping a straight face while Toru suppressed actually giggling at the light sound of your pretty laughter through the phone. 

“What are you doing?” You asked, all sweet and sincere. 

“Just thinkin’ about you,” Suguru smoothly replied. Toru couldn’t help rolling her eyes at him, having a hard time believing any girl could actually be stupid enough to-

“Really?” 

Nevermind. 

This was exactly why you needed Toru. Sure, Suguru was her best friend, but moronic men like him would never be able to take care of you like she could! 

“I liked that photo you sent me,” he murmured into the phone, pitching his voice down while Toru’s nails bit into her palm, imprinting half-circles into them as she heard your breathing hitch on the other end. 

“Y-yeah?” You stuttered a little bit, as precious as always. A little awkward, too, but that was part of what made you so addicting. What made Toru so desperate to be the one you were stammering and stumbling over your words for. “I liked yours.” 

“You wanna show me just how much?” Suguru spoke slowly, leaving the implication up in the air for you to jump to your own conclusion. 

To decide just how badly you wanted to please Satoshi. 

“You want another photo?” You asked after a moment, temptation teetering there. Toru was dying to touch you. Be there in your bed as she heard your sheets rustling underneath your body through the grainy line. Replaying all the pretty expressions you’d worn in the hall earlier, imagining how different the one you had on now was. 

“I want more, angel,” Suguru replied, immediately reminding Toru that you still didn’t know you were hers yet, still enveloped in this boy version of her that she and Suguru fabricated. “Are you touching yourself for me?” 

“Maybe,” you shyly said, close enough to a confession. 

“Think you could record it for me, sweetheart?” He hummed, careful not to sound demanding, just issuing a little dare she knew you would take out of fear of disappointing him.

“If you really want me to,” you hesitantly replied, all light and airy. Barely needing to be nudged to agree to send a video of your breathy moans, one where your fingers would slip underneath your matching panties as you cried out after someone that never really existed. 

“Good girl.” 

You didn’t even ask him not to show anyone else. 

Just blindly trusted him. 

Would you still feel the same when you knew it was really her? Follow her lead and stay on her leash? 

Sometimes, you sorta reminded Toru of a lost little lamb. One she had to shepherd back into place. It wasn’t like she was trying to put the crook around your neck, to pull you close, but she’d do what she had to just to have you. 

ε✿з

Be there in five. Can’t wait for you to finally be mine.  

“Can I help you, miss?” A hotel employee startled you, blinking hard a few times in surprise as you swallowed hard and shook your head.

“I’m, um, just waiting on someone,” you answered with a tight smile, grateful when they seemed to accept that answer, nodding politely and walking away as you rested against the wall rather than taking a seat on one of the stiff couches clustered together by coffee tables nearby. 

You were too anxious to sit. 

Nerves racing under your skin as you continuously checked the time, smoothing out the skirt you picked out and glancing down at the revealing shirt you’d chosen after he made a comment about how much he was looking forward to burying his face against your breasts. 

But as minute five came and passed, you still hadn’t spotted a single sign of him. 

You felt like an idiot, chewing on the inside of your cheek as you kept scanning the lobby for a glimpse of blue like he promised. Pulling up your phone to read and reread his latest message for comfort. 

Fingers tapping the keyboard, typing out a message to ask if he was close only to delete it and try to reword it, wasting another few minutes struggling to come up with something not totally desperate to say only to come up empty. 

A familiar giggle made your blood run cold. 

In a single instant, your mood was spoiled, rotten, head snapping in trepidation as you saw the blue you were searching for at the receptionist’s desk. Just on the wrong person. 

A tight blue dress clinging to the hips of your least favorite person, pushing her boobs up and riding high on her thighs as she turned towards you, eyes locking onto yours like she already knew you’d be here. 

The receptionist passed her two keycards, and she had to readjust the huge bouquet of flowers in her hand to grab it before she started walking towards you, her tall heels clicking against the tiled lobby. 

“Don’t you look adorable?” She smiled at you. Smiled. You were pretty sure your brain short-circuited. Overwhelmed by the fact a compliment had left her lips with not a hint of cruelty. Perhaps a sliver of condescension, but unless your stare was suddenly deceiving you (and you so badly wished it was) she actually appeared genuine. 

“W-what are you-” You started stammering, heat rushing up to your face as she stepped even closer, looking down at you with amusement glittering in her pretty eyes as she pushed the flowers into your arms.

“I'm Satoshi, silly,” she hummed, her mouth curling up in a smirk that just screamed she was proud of her scheme. 

“No, no,” you bluntly said, struggling to breathe when her words threatened to unravel years of a relationship you’d been clinging to, counting on to keep your sanity intact. “He called me. Sent me voice messages, photos-” 

“I had to get my friend Suguru to help,” she admitted, fake sympathy in her practiced smile as she reached out and touched your cheek. Caressed it with her soft fingers while you stood there in too much shock to recoil. “But all the conversations were me, sweetheart.” 

Sweetheart. 

The word had never made you feel so fucking sick before. 

Satoshi had called you that all the time. But he was apparently her, and the realization that all your raw vulnerabilities, all the times you poured your heart and soul out just for Toru to be on the receiving end. All those reassurances you’d hung onto, the pretty words you copied down into diaries and woven into your brain, they all belonged to her. 

Betrayal burning through you as you tried to process the depth of their deception. How many layers to it were there? How much time had she spent just to keep up this charade? Pretending to be a fucking man to what?  

Humiliate you even more than she did on a daily basis? 

“Am I just a sick joke to you?” You asked, voice thick with hurt you couldn't hide anymore. She tormented you for years. What the hell else were you supposed to think? 

“You're my girlfriend?” She retorted, tilting her head to the side as if she couldn't understand what you were confused about. 

“You hate me,” you pointed out, mentally replaying every mean word out of her mouth from the day you met. All the times she accused you of wanting to have sex with her and basically being a lovesick loser. 

“I like you,” she corrected you, and you got the distinct impression this wasn't exactly the reaction she'd been expecting from you. 

And in the next thick pause, the silence where you stared at her with an open mouth, you realized that perhaps she'd been projecting. 

That maybe the obsessed one had been her all along. 

You stepped back, shaking your head as you heard yourself scoff. 

“Do you just want me to say sorry?” Toru asked, her glittery lip gloss catching the light as she dramatically pouted. “I am, you know, I just get so excited when I see you, it’s hard to hold it in.” 

You blinked. 

Her eyes shifted down to your chest, openly ogling you as pink bloomed against her pretty cheeks, her fingers slipping back into your hair like you were a couple. 

As if, in any universe, this could be considered normal. 

You wanted to scream. 

To storm off and slam the glass door behind you. 

Go back to your room and cry into the pillow after you scrubbed every stupid photo and video you ever saved of Satoshi from your phone. 

This wasn’t supposed to happen. You were supposed to graduate and get as far from Toru as possible, find a place with your boyfriend and start a new life where you could forget about the past few years you’d spent here. 

“What did I do to ever deserve you doing this to me?” You breathed, a hot lump forming in your throat as you tried to hold back the sob that wanted to break out. Hyper aware of how hard you tried on your makeup this morning, how much time you’d spent picking out what to wear and how to style your hair, desperate to impress someone who apparently didn’t even exist. 

The tears were welling up anyway, heavy in your lashes and collecting in the corners of your eyes as you felt the stares of people passing by. The whispering you’d gotten used to whenever you were around Toru. 

Her face scrunched up, her annoyingly pretty mouth parting as she moved her hand to drag her thumb underneath your eyes. Wiping away your tears while she tilted her head to the side, loose waves bouncing in time with her huff, “Are you seriously crying?” 

“You catfished me,” you said, hating how crushed you sounded. But you were. In a handful of seconds, she had decimated any ounce of your confidence you had left. Reduced you to rubble under her stupid red-bottomed heels and then rubbed it into the glossy tiles you were standing on. “You’ve been calling me a lesbian for years, but you-” 

“That’s because you are one,” she said, perfectly plucked brows knitting together tightly as she took a small step closer. Almost enough for both your chests to touch, her eyes drifting back down for what felt like the twentieth time at your shirt. “I mean, I am too, was it not obvious?” 

No, it absolutely wasn’t fucking obvious, but the way she said it was enough to make you freeze. 

Honestly, if anything, you thought she was a little homophobic before this, but you didn’t know how she’d take that. 

“Come on, you can just admit that you were crushing on me, you don’t have to keep-” You made some sound at her insane statement, pure disgust mixing with the scoff that escaped. 

“I hate you,” you half-whispered. Loathing burning in those three short words as you tried to find the strength to move. But she didn’t flinch. Just pursed her lips together as she batted her soft, white lashes at you. 

“You told Satoshi you loved him last night,” she so unhelpfully reminded you, speaking slowly as if she was giving you time to think between her words. “That means you love me.” 

“I-” 

You couldn’t even get out what you wanted to say when she started twirling a loose strand of your hair around one of her long fingers. 

Was she actually trying to seduce you? 

Her chest pressed against yours, not sparing so much as a glance to anyone else in the lobby despite how much attention she had to know she was drawing as you felt her tits through her thin dress rubbing against yours like you were playing the starring role in a cheap porno. 

“Think about all those late nights we stayed up together,” she purred, looking down at you the same way she always did, and you wondered how you ever could have missed the hunger in them before. 

Well, that wasn’t quite true. You’d seen it. 

You just hadn’t realized what she was starving for. 

“All those times we talked about our families and our lives and what we wanted to do with them. All the stuff we wanted to do together,” Toru hummed, her nose nearly brushing against yours now too. You were struggling to wrap your head around the idea of her being the one you spilled everything too. Fuck, how many times had you complained to her about her? 

“I didn’t know-” You started, but she made a soft shushing sound that somehow shut you up. 

“We can still do all of it,” she promised, like you had any interest in any of it now that you knew what a fool you’d been for putting your trust in someone you never actually knew. In her. “Me and you.” 

You got the impression in your already flustered brain that she was trying to be romantic. 

That this was all supposed to be some grand gesture to show you that her feelings were genuine. 

But it just felt like fresh embarrassment. 

Your heart slamming against your rib cage while your thoughts ran in the same panicked circles, falling apart in front of a room full of strangers.

It sort of felt like you were being proposed to in public. Forced to say yes to not seem like a total asshole when everyone else was probably convinced she was earnestly confessing to you. 

And after years of being around her, you already had the experience to know the universe would always side with her. 

“What do you expect me to say?” You finally spoke, flat-out dumbfounded as your voice trembled. Her treachery was already twisting into something else in your stomach, your body attempting to turn it into something flattering just so you could cope with it. The intoxicating scent of her perfume stuffing your nostrils and clouding your thinking as you struggled to sort out all the different emotions rattling around inside you. 

The hurt and the heartache and the conflicting feelings of loss and longing for someone that wasn’t there. The scariest part was that some sliver of you was starting to consider Toru. 

Starting to want her. 

Acknowledging that you couldn’t actually have Satoshi, and coming to the conclusion that she was the closest fucking thing you had. 

The thought itself was incredibly depressing. 

“I love you, Toru?” She offered, doing her own impression of your voice. 

“I don’t,” you argued, although you weren’t sure how convincing it actually came out when her proximity left your voice quivering. 

“What? You only loved me as a boy then?” She grinded her sharp canines, not quite glaring, but clearly unhappy as her blue eyes bored into yours. 

“How was I supposed to know my boyfriend was you?” 

Other than the fact he was obviously too good to be true. A guy like that would never be interested in you. No, the only person who was, apparently, was your insane classmate who’d been pretending to be a man for two years just to get you to fall for her.  

You almost wished this was simply blackmail. That she just wanted to hold your humiliation over your head.

This felt so much worse. So much ickier. 

Especially when your body was beginning to betray your mind just with her touch, her scent, warping what your senses with her cruel fingers and soft skin. 

“A girlfriend is way better than a boyfriend,” she huffed at you, rolling her eyes like you should already know that. 

“You want to be my girlfriend?” You asked, meant to be rhetorical rather than serious. But her eyes lit up, lips lifting up into a blinding smile as she nodded. 

“Duh.” 

No. No. No. 

This could not be-

“Let’s go check out our room,” she hummed, effortlessly changing the subject as she backed off only to grab your wrist. Throwing an annoyed look over her shoulder at all the passerbys who had not-so-subtly paused to watch whatever was happening between both of you. “So annoying how people are always obsessed with me.” 

Too blind to see how much of a hypocrite she was being.

You were too stunned to stop her. Feet uselessly following after her as her pale fingertips dug deeper into your skin, dragging you around like you were just an accessory on her arm. 

Feeling almost like you were floating along, trying to tell yourself that this was all just some fucked-up dream you’d wake up from before you got there. 

But you didn’t. 

Just standing there like an idiot when she was holding the keycard up to the door, glancing down to realize you were still holding the flowers in your other limp hand. 

The saddest part was you were pretty sure no one else would give you anything as remotely nice as these. 

“I wasn’t trying to ask you to be-” You tried one more time, but she was already opening the door and pulling you in. 

“You know, you’re kinda being ungrateful,” she huffed, shutting the door with a heavy thud as she dropped her designer purse on the floor. You didn’t even think she knew how much it cost. Probably just purchased it without considering how many meals that much money could’ve bought someone else. 

“I’m ungrateful?” You echoed, hurt coiling hot in your core as you stared in disbelief at her in front of you. You wanted it to be hurt, at least, forcing yourself to look away only to find rose petals all over the floor. 

She reached around to start pulling down the zipper of her dress, stepping out of her heels without pausing before shimmying her clothes off. 

Shit. 

She wasn’t wearing a fucking shred underneath. 

You weren’t a lesbian. At least, you were pretty sure you weren’t a lesbian. But something was fluttering inside you against your will at the subtle bounce of her breasts when she bent over to pick up a rose petal and pinch it between her fingers, pouting like she was disappointed by the color of them. 

“I mean, you have me in front of you, and you’re not even appreciating it,” she complained. 

“If you’re expecting me to beg for you-” you started, awkwardly turning to place the flowers on the closest table, but that only gave her the opportunity to move closer. To bridge the gap between you. 

“I’m not,” she argued back, but the mischievous little grin on her face was enough to cast doubt. “But you will anyway.” 

Your mouth fell open, and it felt like she had your heart in her fist, squeezing it to watch the blood slowly drip out. 

“I’ve seen how pretty you look begging,” she murmured, and that heat simmering inside you just creeped higher, flooding your face as you realized what she meant. Remembered all those videos you’d sent her thinking Satoshi was seeing them. “Wanna hear it for myself.” 

And before you could even deal with the notion that Toru had a plethora of videos of you masturbating stashed away, that she probably had fingered herself to you, she was kissing you. 

She tasted like candy. 

Sugary sweet gloss melting onto your lips as her mouth messily collided with yours. You froze for a few moments, but your lips started to kiss her back. Parting to let her tongue slip in as you were torn between telling her to stop and letting this continue. 

What could you do? 

What should you do? 

If she sent those videos to anyone, your life would be fucking ruined. But you didn’t want to just be Toru’s pet, something she doted on in secret and embarrassed in public. 

And at the same time, your body was reacting to hers almost instinctively, leaning forward instead of pulling away, despite your arms falling to your side, unsure if you could even touch her back. 

Toru, on the other hand, was grabbing a handful of your ass – and one of your tits too. Groping and squeezing while her tongue explored your mouth like she owned it all. 

Maybe if you gave into her now, if you let her have this, have you this once, you could still just leave anyway after graduation. Change your number when you changed cities, fuck, maybe changed countries if it meant getting away from the war she was waging between your head and heart. 

“You’re such a bitch,” you breathed when she broke the kiss, knowing that if she kissed you again, you weren’t going to stop her either. 

She laughed. At that, or maybe just at you. 

And then she was grabbing your hips, twisting you around and guiding you back to the bed, pushing you down on it hard enough to knock the air from your chest. 

“Don’t be a brat,” she pouted, pushing her glossy lips out as she easily rolled up your little skirt around your hips. Grinning at the sight of your lacy little panties, the pure white shade that came a little too close to her hair that she quickly pulled down around your thighs next.

“I’m not a-” 

Your words died in your throat as she slipped a delicate finger inside your warmth before you could protest what exactly you were. No better than a bitch in heat when just an experimental circle had a broken gasp escaping your mouth. 

She smiled at you again, pride and amusement shining like stars in her blue stare. You supposed she’d just found a new way to play with her favorite toy. 

“You’re so cute,” she complimented, climbing on top of you, her knee nudging your thighs further apart as her other hand trailed underneath your shirt. 

You swallowed hard. You knew you should say something else. 

Tell her to fuck off. 

But nothing came out. 

All the words dried up as she dragged her finger even deeper inside you. 

And then added another digit. Slowly getting to work stretching you open, feeling the way your walls started to squeeze down reflexively as she held your stare hostage. 

“You wanna tell me just how much you don’t like me?” She condescendingly hummed, daring you to disagree with her. 

“Do you hate me?” You asked instead, still struggling to wrap your head around the fact this was happening, no longer confident in something you had been certain of an hour ago. That somehow, you were proving her right. That just by being underneath her like this, with the taste of her candied lip gloss on your mouth and her fingers stuffing you full, you had become exactly what she said you were. 

A loser in love with her. 

You tried to tell yourself again that you weren’t. 

“I’m literally, like, in love with you,” she pouted, a hint of a familiar whine in it like she was sick of saying the same thing in different ways. “What do I have to do to make you see that, hm, pretty?” 

Probably erase the past few years from your memory, but you had a feeling she might engineer something like a car accident if it had the chance to cause retrograde amnesia – and force you to let her take care of you. 

And then her thumb drifted over your clit, and you forgot what you were thinking anyway with the soft pressure she applied. 

“Doesn’t it feel good?” She hummed, begging to rub careful circles over it, your body tensing as your chest tightened at the sensation. Your overheating core threatened to send shivers down your spine as her fingertips prodded deeper, faster. 

“T-Toru-” You didn’t know what you were even trying to say, brows knitting together as sweat started to drip down your forehead, everything inside you quickly grew all fuzzy. 

“You know, no one else could make you feel this good, sweetheart,” she said, teasing you as her thumb pressed that sensitive bud between your thighs like it was a goddamn button. 

Activating an embarrassingly primal part of your brain as you felt the pleasure build closer towards a climax you couldn’t believe you might be having. 

“No one else will ever know you like I do,” Toru continued, and you loathed that she might be correct. You told her everything. Every thought. Every secret. Every dream. You didn’t think you’d ever be able to trust anyone else like that again. “Love you like I do.” 

You wanted to hate this as much as you hated her. 

But her fingers were longer than yours, hitting spots you couldn't on your own as she slipped a third one in, swirling it around to tease you with that pretty, lilting laugh of hers. 

“Look at you,” she cooed, still mocking you even when you were in her hotel bed. “Soaked on my fingers like a slut.” 

You were.

Shaking and squirming as her fingers pumped in and out of you, whimpering weakly as she played you like a goddamn instrument. You knew you were going to cum. 

Knew that she’d won. 

Toru had made a mess of you. Unravelled you into a million little pieces that probably would never be put back together again. 

“That’s it, my pretty little lamb,” she cooed, and you wished your head was a little clearer to understand what she giggled about next. Your thighs trembling when she finally crooked her fingers just right, her thumb dragging over your clit with the perfect amount of pressure to finally make you cum for her. 

Your eyes drifting down to her bare body over you, her perfect tits, her flawless skin, the shape of her hips and thighs as her fingers worked in and out of you, her thumb working you through your orgasm as you broke. 

Bent into something unrecognizable under her pressure, her presence, blinking as your brain basically stopped functioning when she filled it with just thoughts of her. 

Watching numbly when she stood up and walked to her bag and back, white hair spilling over her shoulder as she tilted her head to the side to look at the phone in her hand, squinting at the screen as she angled it to capture where you were splayed out in the bleached white sheets. 

“Say cheese.” 

reblogs + comments always appreciated angels <3

You stare at the mirror. The dress looks more like it's wearing you, rather than the other way around. It's frumpy, with frills and bows in every place you look. Impractical, is the only word you can describe it as. The heels weren't any better, already constricting your feet. You'd fall if you took two steps. Luckily, you didn't have anywhere to go.

If it were up to you, you would have burned the dress a long time ago. Unfortunately, your owner would not appreciate your lack of gratitude.

There's a soft tap on the glass. You'd like to ignore it, but you know better. Merfolk are prideful as they are beautiful. You remembered the last time you stubbornly ignored a visitor. Some nights, you can still feel the water in your lungs, the taste of seawater in the back of your throat.

You reluctantly rise up from the vanity mirror. The walk to the end of the room is short and yet daunting. It's not so much of a room than it is a bubble. The space is larger than a house, with a ceiling that stretches tens of feet above you. It's more of a ballroom, packed with things that resembled a home: a bed, a mirror, a desk, a bathtub.

There were no walls, nothing but crystal clear glass. Why would a pet need a silly thing such as privacy?

Scarlet red hair and a long tail greet you. He looks enthusiastic as soon as you meet his gaze, spinning and bobbing in the water.

"Eiji." You greet, hoping your voice and smile is soft and sweet-just the way he likes it.

Kirishima seems satisfied with your act. His grin deepens, showing you his sharp teeth.

"I missed you!" He says your name with a happy thrill. "Did you miss me? It's been so long since I last saw you. Is Momo treating you well?" He frowns, clawed hands scraping at the glass that divides the both of you.

His voice is slightly muffled, but you can hear him just fine. Unlike the others, Kirishima is specifically prohibited from entering your terrarium. He's too brash, too reckless, uncontrollable. Those are the traits Momo often complains about. You've seen the way he ripped apart a human ship with his bare hands, all with a smile on his face.

For once, you and your owner share the same sentiments.

"She's been well to me. Everyone has." You insist.

He brightens. "Oh! I have a gift for you." He unveils his hand.

A pretty necklace sits in his palm. It gently floats in the current.

"It's beautiful." You awe. "Is it for me? Thank you."

He nods excitedly, preening and your acceptance.

"Is Momo here? I'll give it to her." He suggests.

You give an apologetic smile. "She's out with Jirou. I'll let her know you came by." You suggest.

"That's okay!" He tells you. "In that case, why don't you let me in?"

You can feel your smile freeze on your lips.

"Oh..." you trail off, pretending to think, pretending that your heart isn't pounding in your chest. "I'm not sure if Momo would like that."

"It's okay." Kirishima tries to assuage your concerns. "She won't have to know. It'll be our little secret." He winks.

When you continue to hesitate, his smile starts to fade.

"Do you not like me?"

"What?" You backtrack. "It's not like that. I just-"

"I'm the only one not allowed to come see you and touch you." His voice drops. His tone shifts from a whine to something more akin to a growl. "I can only talk to you with this wall stuck between us!" He presses harder against the glass. You swear you heard it crack.

"I don't get it, why don't you want to let me in, why don't you want to-"

He's cut off by a hand yanking on his hair.

"You're not allowed in 'cuz you're a dumbass." Bakugou gruffs out.

Immediately, Kirishima reverts back to his original self. He whines as he holds his hair, complaining about how rough the other merfolk was. Bakugou hardly seems to care about his grievance. His red eyes focus on you.

You stare right back.

While Kirishima was built like a tank, Bakugou was built for agility. He’s far longer than Eijirou, with an orange and black tale that glimmers like gold in the sunlight. The fins on his face and hands are the same pattern. His neck is often covered in necklaces covered in gems and shark teeth. He never fails to stand out. 

Much like Kirishima, Bakugou also seemed to respond well to your placating, though he isn't as expressive. He and Kirishima often visit you at the same time. You think it's intentional on Bakugou's part. He seems to like to step in and play hero when Kirishima grows too erratic. You arch your lips in a smile, trying to look relieved and happy to see him, despite the flip-flopping in your stomach. His red eyes simmer a bit.

Then, he looks down at your outfit and scoffs.

"The fuck are you wearing?" He asks.

You glance down, looking at the ridiculous amount of frills and bows.

"Momo gave it to me." You could only answer.

"Course she did." He sneers. "Always had a shit sense of fashion."

His lips curl as he surveys you a bit more. You don't like the look in his eyes.

"You need something that shows more skin." He decides on.

Kirishima floats next to him. He tilts his head as he looks at you. 

“That’s a good idea.” He agrees. “Maybe something a bit more red.” 

It’s odd how naked they make you feel sometimes, like you’re nothing but fillet freshly served and ready for them to eat. 

That’s probably how they saw you. 

Bakugou retreats slightly. They exchange glances. 

“We have to go,” Kirishima says, clearly disappointed. “I’m sorry. I promise to visit you as soon as I can tomorrow.” 

You wave him off as he disappears into the murky sea. Bakugou starts to follow but he hesitates. 

He looks once more over your dress. 

“I’ll find you something.” You don’t know if that promise is to you or himself. He’s gone with the flick of his orange tail. 

You finally take your first real breath of air in minutes. 

~ 

In the center of your terrarium, sits a large pool of water that gradually seeps up from below. 

It’s where most of the merfolk like to visit you. Talking behind the glass is mostly reserved for quick visits. During their leisure, most of them like to sit at the edge of the pool, swishing their tails back and forth as you obediently sit beside them. 

Though you’d never admit it, you did have your favorite share of visitors. Perhaps favorite isn’t the best term. Most tolerable. You liked Jirou, the more musically inclined of the merfolk. She’s not a big fan of touching, happy to sit at the pool and hum tunes. 

Sometimes, she goes a bit overboard, gets caught up in her songs, and starts to really sing. She typically stops when your nose bleeds and your head feels like it’s about to crack open. Mermaid songs aren’t made for human ears. 

Iida is another one who is on the tolerable side. You don’t like how coddling he is sometimes, but he’s pretty respectful. He isn’t too keen on touching, either. You can’t tell if it’s the genuine lack of desire, or the fear of never getting enough once he does. Sometimes, you can see his fingers twitch and his mouth clench in a way that you force yourself to ignore. 

Midoriya and Ochako have no such regulations. 

“Is that the dress Momo gave you?” Ochako asks when she floats up to you. Without hesitation, she reaches out and lightly tugs on a bow. 

“It’s adorable!” She squealed.

Beside her, Midoriya grins. “The color suits you.” He compliments. 

“Thank you.” You tell them both, allowing Midoriya to fiddle with your shoes with scarred hands. 

You’re pretty sure it’s his favorite part of you. When you first became Momo’s, Midoriya could not take his eyes off of you. You often wondered if you were the first human he’d ever met. He always seemed to watch your every move, memorizing every action you did. At least, he has the decency to look bashful every time he gets caught looking up your skirt. 

Ochako is a bit more obvious with her interest. Her hands often stop lingering right at your thighs, mostly because she knows she’s not allowed to go any further. You have this scary thought that if Momo was any less restrictive of you, Ochako wouldn’t ever stop exploring every nook and crevice your clothes hid away. 

Eventually, you fade into the background as the two friends catch up with eachother. They talk about their lives, what they’ve been up to, small talk. It reminds you of the talks you had with your own friends all those years ago, before you were dragged down into the depths by slender hands and pretty lips. 

“Did you hear about Todoroki’s newest human?” Ochako asks. 

Midoriya gives her a sympathetic look. “I heard. Poor thing. He only had that one for a few weeks, too.” 

From your brief glimpse into merfolk culture, it seems only a certain type of merfolk are able to obtain and keep humans. Momo is one of them, which is why so many flock to her terrarium, eager for a glimpse of you. 

The other is Todoroki. 

Unlike the others, you never knew how to treat Todoroki. He never seemed to respond to your placating, or your feigns of appreciation to his appearance. His face remained blank every time he approached your terrarium. He hardly ever spoke. Despite being allowed to, he’s never once entered your terrarium. 

He just watches. Every move you make. Every breath you take. He catalogs it all. 

He keeps humans, too. Multiple. You hear he replaces them once a month. 

Ochako seems to finally catch on that you’re listening. She coos, reaching out her hands. You obediently lean down to rest your face in her cradling fingers. Her claws ever so slightly scratch your checks. 

“Did I scare you?” She asks. “I’m sorry. Don’t worry, nothing like that will happen to you.” 

“Of course not.” Midoriya assures. “You’re so sweet. Momo would never replace you.” 

Ironically, you often wished Momo would get bored of you and replace you. Especially in the beginning. You used to hope she’d find another human and forget all about you. 

Maybe it’s a good thing you continue to hold her eyes to this day– considering what getting replaced means down here in the depths. 

~

You never know what time it is. 

The merfolk have no such thing as clocks, and sunlight does not reach this far in this ocean. You have no idea if the sun or moon is out. The only light you have comes from the terrarium itself. 

It’s scary to think that all that’s between you and the tumultuous sea is delicate glass. One tiny crack, a miniscule chink in your frail armor, and it could all come crashing down. Millions upon millions of seawater would descend on you. You wouldn’t drown. You would be destroyed. Not a trace of you would be left behind. 

There’s no way to tell time here, but you know it’s the end of the day when Momo comes back. 

She slowly eases her way into the pool with the grace of a ballerina. Water drips from her pretty face and hair as she peers up at you with adoration. Silently, she lifts her hand out. 

You step forward, uncaring about soaking your dress as you float into her arms. Momo grabs you when your feet can no longer touch the bottom. She brings you into her chest, face pressed into your neck. 

“Welcome back.” You murmur. 

“Thank you, darling.” She coos, inhaling your scent. 

“Did you have a good day?” 

You nod. She pulls back, searching your face. 

“I heard Kirishima made a scuffle a while ago.” She frowns. “Did he scare you?” 

You shake your head. She doesn’t buy it. 

“I’ll be stricter on him going forward.” She tells herself.

A part of you hopes this means you won’t have to see him for a while. That’s usually what she meant. 

She hums as she spins you around in the water. It feels like the two of you were dancing as she holds you against her, like she’s leading the waltz. 

She glances down at your dress. “Do you like the dress?” She asks. 

You nod. “I love it.” You tell her. “Thank you for giving it to me.” 

“I ran into Bakugou, earlier. He certainly wasn’t a fan.” She rolls her eyes. “I believe his exact words were ‘a lump of shitty bows’.” 

“He mentioned he’d bring me something else.” You offhandedly mention. 

“Did he?” She wonders. “What do you think of that?” 

You smile. “I appreciate anything everyone gives me. Especially you.” 

She likes that answer. “What do you like about the dress?” She asks. 

You look down at the soaked fabric. It’s ruined now, but neither of you care. She’s planning on getting you a new one tomorrow. And the day after that. And the day after that. 

“I like the color.” You tell her, trying to sound eager. “I just really love the shade. I also like the shoes. They may not be practicable but–” 

You stop as soon as you hear those words. It was too late. 

Momo’s eyes darken. 

“You don’t like the shoes?” 

“No!” You immediately backtrack. “I adore them! I–I meant they just weren’t the best for swimming, that’s all. They’re so beautiful, Momo. Every part of the dress is so beautiful.” The words rush out like vomit. Momo doesn’t seem to hear any of them. 

She sets you down at the edge of the pool, pulling away. She refuses to look at you. In desperation, you try to reach her, trying to escape your fate. 

“I’m sorry,” you tell her. Your voice trembles. “I–I didn’t mean it like that. I love the dress. I’m so sorry.” 

Eventually, she sighs. She takes her hand in her own, pressing it to her cheek. Her skin is several degrees cooler than yours and stiff. It oddly feels like she’s dead. 

“No, I’m sorry.” She tells you and she looks genuinely remorseful. 

Your shoulders are about to sag in relief, when she continues. 

“I haven’t trained you well.” 

You try to smile. It comes out like a grimace. 

“That’s not true,” you say. 

She nods, continuing to lavish your body heat. “It is. You wouldn’t be so ungrateful, if I had.” 

She hesitates at this next part. 

“I was talking to Todoroki a while ago. He mentioned he had some experience with training humans. I think it would be a good idea if he kept you for a few days.” 

Something lodges at the back of your throat. You want to scream. 

“You want me to leave?” You ask instead, already on the brink of a breakdown. 

She shakes her head, leaning up to give a kiss on your freezing cheek. 

“I’ll never abandon you,” she tells you with unwavering eyes that almost make you want to believe her. 

“But, it’s not good for either of us if you keep acting up like this. We need to deal with that somehow.” 

Outburst. She considers a hint of criticism as an outburst, of you lashing out. Any hint of disobedience is shot down because pets aren’t allowed to complain. 

She looks heartbroken as she looks at you. You feel her lips against hers as you remember cold eyes–one blue, the other black. Always watching. Never not watching. 

What did he expect? Of course it was Trappola up to his shenanigans. Sebek had also tried to leave the group chat many times before, but Ace was so adamant on keeping him there that he decided that putting the group on mute was a better use of his time than trying to push the point. Just as Sebek was about to put his phone away and head to the library, another grating ping came from the group chat.

SUPREME LEADER (ACE TRAPPOLA): [image attached] EPEL FELMIER took a screenshot. DEUCE SPADE  took a screenshot. SUPREME LEADER (ACE TRAPPOLA): AHAHHAHA desperate weirdos TOXIC 🤢🤢 (EPEL FELMIER): shut the hell up u took those SUPREME LEADER (ACE TRAPPOLA): actually 🤓 i got them from cater. saw him slacking off painting the roses so i got him to give me some pics of his playdate with [y. name]. he was pretty mad about it tho lololol class idiot (DEUCE SPADE): i dont think bargaining with cater is a good idea… SUPREME LEADER (ACE TRAPPOLA): wtvr… SUPREME LEADER (ACE TRAPPOLA): cmon cmon @/Jack Howl @/racist …. i know you want a screenshot.. cmon…

The image attached was a picture of the prefect, tears welling up in their eyes as they nurse a bruise on their cheek. It was clear that they were forced to hold up a peace sign by whoever was behind the camera, their oversized sleeping shirt dipping from their shoulder to expose their clavicle and the sliiighest hint of their chest. It was not a picture that Sebek was interested in, and he was sure that Jack Howl shared the same sentiments.

What was it with these humans and their overly sadistic tendencies? Trappola had made it their favorite hobby to torment the prefect both physically and mentally, Felmier liked to switch from sugary-sweet to downright devilish just to knock their guard down, and even Spade who tried to his best to become the prefect’s protector couldn’t hide his glee when they were vulnerable and in need of someone stronger. Howl, for all his beating around the bush, did not goof around when it came to the prefect’s safety. Sebek shook his head. Humans were truly the worst.

TOXIC 🤢🤢 (EPEL FELMIER): at LEAST i didnt get my ASS BEAT BY MY HOUSEWARDEN SUPREME LEADER (ACE TRAPPOLA): fym you didnt get ur ass beat?!?! I KNOW HOUSEWARDEN VIL HAD SOMETHING FOR YOU. U DIDNT BRING [Y. NAME] WITH PERMISSION TOXIC 🤢🤢 (EPEL FELMIER): and what YOU DID? class idiot (DEUCE SPADE): he actually did believe it or not class idiot (DEUCE SPADE): he went through all the rules and procidures so that housewarden riddle wouldn’t have any place to say no racist (SEBEK ZIGVOLT): *PROCEDURES SUPREME LEADER (ACE TRAPPOLA): *procedures JACK HOWL: *procedures TOXIC 🤢🤢 (EPEL FELMIER): *procedures class idiot (DEUCE SPADE): I FUCKING GET IT OK SUPREME LEADER (ACE TRAPPOLA): *okay

Just as the entire group chat begins to blow up about how Sebek is online, he shoves the phone into his pocket and finally looks up— just in time to bump into the person who has been occupying his thoughts as of late.

“Ffngah! Henchman, are you okay?!” Sebek’s sturdy chest has you sprawled on the floor and your familiar is fussing over you as you try to get your bearings. The contents of your messenger back has been spilled, and Sebek lets out a frustrated long sigh before he bends down and picks them up.

“Human,” he starts, same scowl on his face as always. “It is absolutely irresponsible of you to inconvenience people like this in the hallway! You best look where you’re going!” He picks up the papers— for history you held high marks, but another paper with your magical alchemy after-report depicts an embarrassingly low grade. Disgraceful.

Grim leaps on his four feet, hissing at Sebek. “Whaddya mean ‘look where you’re going’?! My henchman’s been calling out to you since awhile ago before you decided to bump into them! This is all your fault, you stupid pompadour!” Sebek’s eyes widen at the insult of his very carefully maintained hairstyle and opens his mouth to yell at the inspid cat, but your visibly tired face catches his mind and he composes himself. He’s no stranger to the absurd rumors around you— he’s even in a group chat of the perpetrators— and he decides to grant you some mercy. You are already overwhelmed as it is, and while that is no excuse to slack off on your responsibilities, even Sebek has to admit that your situation is far from ideal.

He forcibly pulls you up by the wrist with no grace whatsoever, but his hands are gentle when he smoothens out your hair and fixes your uniform. “You are a disgrace to look at, [Y. Name],” he bluntly states, stepping back to assess you. “I have heard that you stayed at a time in Pomefiore. Why is the condition of your skin severely lacking?”

“That’s because I’m staying in Ignihyde now,” you say, picking up Grim and giving Sebek a grateful smile. “Can’t sleep. Not with all that clicking and clacking and—” You visibly pale before shaking your head and feeling the lobe of your ear for something. “Sorry. Shall we go the cafeteria together?”

Unlike the others, Sebek has always noted how you don’t feel offput by his overbearing demeanor. Ever since the events of his young lord’s overblot, he has built a… rapport with the other first years. Nevertheless, they liked to complain of his tendencies. Absurd! When clearly he was the only one among them who knew how to hold himself in a dignified manner! At least you had the decency to heed his words. You smile thoughtfully when he tells you to straighten yourself, you listen attentively when he teaches you even with all his smug remarks, and when he tells you to go behind him, you do without a single peep. He would think that you enjoyed being nagged. But since you had the nerve to hang around his young lord, then you should at least have the humility to listen to his retainer!

Walking side-by-side with you, he feels his role of a protector more than ever. Even though he is one of the knights of Briar Valley’s next prince, he is keenly aware that his young lord’s power exceeds his own. You, however, lost and afraid and an alien… you could not even lift a finger against him if you tried. He thinks back to the picture sent by Ace in the group chat and shakes his head. The pathetic human is already pathetic. Why drive them further into their own misery?

“You should stay away from the others for a while,” he says, sounding more than a demand rather than a suggestion. “I am sure you are no fool, [Y. Name]. None of the other dorms act in your best interests. Until Ramshackle is restored, it is best you stay over in Diasomnia for your own sake.” You seem to eye him warily, but you soon shake whatever thoughts are forming in your head. “Master Lilia has voiced his thoughts last night over… ergh, dinner.” He had to brush his teeth for half an hour to get the taste out. “Young Lord and Silver are of the same sentiment.” He thumps his chest with his fist proudly, a smug look crossing his features. “Diasomnia will provide you with more hospitality than those other fools. After all, we conduct ourselves with actual dignity.”

This unfriendly sentiment earns looks of ire from the other dorm students as his voice booms down the hall.

“What’s that about dignity, Sebek?” From behind you, Ace clicks his tongue in annoyance. He’s glaring at the fae with hands on his hips, followed by the rest of the first-years.

“Yeah,” Deuce nods, cracking his knuckles with a dangerous look on his face. “You’re speaking real loud for a guy who’s about to go 1v4.”

“Hold on, I wasn’t agreeing to a fistfight, you fucking idiot.” Epel and Jack sighs, moving forward to leave behind the bickering fools as your group enters the cafeteria. “You got a lot to say about hospitality, huh?” Epel leans forward to peer at Sebek’s face, sticking to your side as you all fall in line. “What could you possibly know? I think I did a good job with my hospitality.”

“Harassment, more like,” you snort, piling food on your tray every time Grim points out something. Epel elbows you in the hip and you jerk, but Sebek takes note of how you don’t seem bothered by it in the slightest. Jack, meanwhile, casts a disapproving frown towards Epel. The boy just shrugs and sticks to your side even more.

“Gotta take advantage,” Epel says out loud, increasing his volume for the newly-arrived duo. “If I gotta share my bed, I should at least get something out of it, right?” His smirk looks out of place on his angelic features. “I know I got something out of it. Or something out of you.” This time, you were the one to elbow Epel.

Ace peeks his face from out behind Jack’s towering build, eager to butt into the conversation. “Why’re you acting like you’re the only one who slept with—” Jack now elbows Ace.

Now, you look mildly uncomfortable. The conversation had attracted the attention of the people you were in line with, and Ace’s outburst continued to turn the gaze of others. You already knew about the rumors circulating about you— how easy you were, how much of a Jezebel you must be. You averted your gaze from one leering Ignihyde student, who squeaked when five boys glared him down with the same ferocity of a lion. Even Sebek felt the teeniest bit mortified for you.

“You’re too loud,” Sebek stiffly addresses the others. Jack looks miffed to be lumped with the others. The others look similarly miffed to be called loud by Sebek of all people. “If you’re going to be indecent, do so in private.” You flash Sebek a grateful smile before heading to find yourselves a seat. The other boys took note of the bright blush tinging his cheeks before he follows you.

“Cheat,” Ace mumbles. Everyone except Jack nodded in agreement.

“You look tired, [Y. Name],” Deuce comments as soon as the group settles down on a table far from the other students. You seem to have caught on what would be the topic for the remainder of your lunch, so you decided to think ahead and save yourself the impending embarrassment. “Have you been sleeping much since Heartslabyul? You can always go back if you want.” Jack scoffs. “I’m pretty sure they didn’t get much sleep either over there.” Deuce blushes pink before erasing whatever image he had brewing. Ace shoots a knowing grin his way.

He points a fork at the beastman, who guides it down and scolds him for the rude gesture. “You stole them away from me— er, us.” He amends his mistake when Deuce scowls at him. “Eager to play knight, huh?”

“I actually got some sleep over at Jack’s, by the way,” you chime in. Jack’s tail starts to rapidly wag. “Perhaps the most normal night this month.”

The conversation devolves into idle chatter, comparing the dorms you’ve stayed at and commenting on your hosts’ quirks. You carry yourself nonchalantly, as if you’re not describing being harrassed and being drugged. This amuses and delights both Ace and Epel, while Jack shifts uncomfortably in his seat. Deuce is currently squirming, desperately trying to stop himself from imagining how each night went. It is clear to everyone (except maybe Deuce) that you’re omitting some things, but only Ace has the audacity to push for more details.

“So what’s that pervy dormhead making you do, huh?” Ace leans in with an eager grin.. “Is he making you cosplay his anime waifus in his mancave? Hmm…?”

There it is again, you feeling the lobe of your ear for something that isn’t there. Sebek catches on as your eyes nervously flit everywhere, until your eyes catch his probing ones and you force yourself to settle down. “I’d rather be anywhere than in Ignihyde right now,” you say, voice the most seething he’s heard you. It also feels like a plea, as you throw him a glance before going back to your food. “Then just leave,” Jack suggests, as if it were ever that simple. “Stay the night at the infirmary. Or you can come back to Savanaclaw.” Ace. “You’re not fucking slick, Jack.”

“I tried, okay.” Brushing off the suggestion, you purse your lips. “But that cree– Idia is er, surprisingly insistent. Pushy. Forceful. Take your pick. Ortho won’t even let me step out of the mirror for classes unless he’s with me.” Everyone nods in understanding. After all, who could outrun an android that can laser beams out of his hands? 

“At least Ortho’s taking good care of you,” Deuce tries to comfort you. You respond with a sardonic smile and choose to not comment any further. 

“Poor Sebek can’t say anything~” Ace teases, pointing at him with alternate fingers. “Jealous? If you can manage to get Ortho outta the way, then it’s gonna be Diasomnia’s turn. You exci~iited? A sleepover with our pretty lil prefect~?” “AS IF!” Sebek yells, shooting up to glare daggers down at the unfazed redhead. “IT IS UNCOURTLY TO SHARE A ROOM MUCH LESS A BED WITH YOUR—” He catches himself before he can say something he does not want to let slip. He calms himself and sits down, leveling everyone with mocking gaze. “I am not as beholden to beastly urges as you lot. [Y. Name] is to get the most hospitality in Diasomnia and have their own room. In fact, Master Lilia has already arranged for it. As for Ortho—” His face takes on a smug look. “He is not a match for Master Lilia. We will welcome [Y. Name] and Grim by morning light as soon as we finish up preparations.”

Epel furrows his brows, tilting his head as he thinks about something. “Hm… but doesn’t Lilia seem the type to…?”

Sebek feels the urge to yell at Epel for having such disgraceous thoughts about Lilia, but even he finds himself frowning as he considers the possibility. “Well… Master Lilia has his… quirks, but he is a great man nonetheless. A gentleman, even. I have the utmost faith that he will handle [Y. Name] with the manner befitting a host.”

Ace leans in to whisper in Epel’s ear. “Yeaaaah Lilia is up to no good.” “YOU ALWAYS HAVE SOMETHING TO SAY, DON’T YOU?!” 

You are comfortably more at ease during Sebek’s whole tirade, though some of the tension is still there. “Whatever the case, anywhere is better than Ignihyde right now.” Your gaze narrows slightly, your voice dropping to an angry whisper as if something heated had angrily grasped your chest. “Anywhere is better than here.”

Sebek and Jack exchange a glance, sensitive hearing having picked up on your heated words. They purse their lips and look away.

“Where are you going?” Epel calls out. You have abruptly stood up and taken your tray with you, barely even having touched your food. Grim is all too eager to finish the rest of them as you begin to walk. “You’ve barely even eaten…!”

“Going to Headmaster’s,” you say. You try to keep your tone light and airy, but your throat is still tight. “Don’t wait up for me. I’m not attending classes today to attend to the Headmaster’s task. See ya.”

Sebek lays in his bed, thinking about that look on your face this afternoon. You’ve always worn this passive mask, always placating the more temperamental mages with half-hearted assurances and forced smiles. It’s a mask that has clearly already been worn before. 

He thinks about traversing dreams with you and Silver, that same look of bitterness as you played audience to the dreams of many. He had stood shoulder to shoulder, unwillingly watching the absurd dreams of these humans play out before you. Humans have always been ugly creatures, but they had this alarming ability to pretend that they weren’t. You were especially great at that, yet even you couldn’t reign in the jealousy from distorting your face.

He had never commented on it. There were bigger things at hand. He needed to save Young Master, Master Lilia was dying, Silver was the child of his land’s colonizers… But what could there possibly be jealous of? Were you so eager to lay your soul’s deepest desires bare just like the rest of them?

With a groan, he rolls over and buries his face into the pillow. Curse you! Restful sleep evades him yet again tonight, solely because you preoccupy his thoughts!

His phone buzzes and he hesitates for a second before reaching for it. It is not a good habit to use gadgets before you sleep, but his mind is too busy to sleep that he might as well use some of its energy on whatever nonsense the group chat has cooked up.

TOXIC 🤢🤢 (EPEL FELMIER): they whine so prettily as well  TOXIC 🤢🤢 (EPEL FELMIER): and they’re so soft… down there…  TOXIC 🤢🤢 (EPEL FELMIER): then they stare at you with those big eyes cuz they want you to stop… but it’s kinda hard to stop cuz theyre soo fucking cute SUPREME LEADER (ACE TRAPPOLA): yeah im hard class idiot (DEUCE SPADE): oh my god he’s shuffling a lot do NOT JACK OFF NEXT TO ME SUPREME LEADER (ACE TRAPPOLA): hard typing w one hand :/ JACK HOWL, EPEL FELMIER reacted 👎 DEUCE SPADE reacted 🤢

Abhorrent. How can one be so shameless with their lust? And in front of others as well? If one could see Sebek’s face right now, the disgust may leave such a lasting expression on them that you’d think he came across a defacement of his Young Master’s portrait. 

class idiot (DEUCE SPADE): i wish i could’ve slept with [y. name] 🙁 TOXIC 🤢🤢 (EPEL FELMIER): 🍆🍆🍆 class idiot (DEUCE SPADE): NOT LIKE THAT .. IM NOT ACE WTF SUPREME LEADER (ACE TRAPPOLA): yeah hes worse JACK HOWL, DEUCE SPADE, EPEL FELMIER reacted 👎 SUPREME LEADER (ACE TRAPPOLA): tf? SEBEK ZIGVOLT reacted 👎 SUPREME LEADER (ACE TRAPPOLA): ??????? class idiot (DEUCE SPADE): after ace threw us out seniors cater andd trey decided to take [y. name] for themselves… i never had the chance 😔 its so UNFAIR SUPREME LEADER (ACE TRAPPOLA): thems the brakes in nrc. you snooze, you lose EPEL FELMIER, JACK HOWL reacted with 👍

Sleeping with the human…?

Sebek shuts off his phone and places it on the bedside, groaning to himself as his thoughts grow louder. It’s all that everyone talks about these days. He had heard Floyd bragging about it to Riddle in the library, his voice echoing through the shelves as he droned about what he had done to you. It was nothing short of harassment, and Riddle seemed to agree because he decided to furiously cast Off With Your Head on Floyd. But even Riddle had retorted about having you in his bedroom for a tea, talking about marriage talks that even had Floyd looking dangerous (if it weren’t for the collar around his neck). 

Silver and Lilia even insisted on not bringing Malleus out to eat anywhere publicly as long as these rumors went around. The three of them knew all too well about his fondness for you, and that he’d surely strike down the rumormongers who liked to comment on what your performance could be like in bed. You must have been elated to have Ramshackle destroyed, they say, because now you have an excuse to whore yourself out as much as you wanted. Sebel had struck down a few students for saying that within his earshot. How much more Malleus?

Still. It vexes him how much one human— and a non-mage at that!— could stir up an entire school like you do. You liked to play the unassuming part, a supporting role as you set up the stage for the mages to take center. Not to say that you were unassuming. You are on the prettier side… but… Sebek hides his blush deeper into his pillow. The fact was! You were nothing special! Nothing special, indeed…

class idiot (DEUCE SPADE): i wish i could’ve slept with [y. name] 🙁

He thinks back to Deuce’s message. To prostate themselves over a mere magickless… how humiliating for a student of Night Raven College! What was there to wish for! To have your body nestled next to his, sharing your warmth as you shielded yourselves from Diasomnia’s cold? To have your fingers clasped around his sword-calloused hands, comforting yourself as you experience a nightmare? To open your eyes and see Sebek, relief flooding you as you know that there will at least be one man in this world who wouldn’t hurt you? To press your lips on his forehead, then on his cheek, then to his cold lips? To have your lips sweetly say the words he’s been…

Sebek shoots up, absolutely mortified at these dangerous thoughts. Sebek Zigvolt! A trained warrior from birth, heir to the noble and dignified Zigvolt line! How could he let his thoughts fall to depravity! For his temptations to succumb to one (albeit pretty-looking) human! He shakes his head as if trying to loosen all the blockage from his brain, massaging his aching temples. Tomorrow dawn, he will swing his sword a thousand times to atone for this weakness!

But tonight, he pouts to himself and squeezes his eye shut, traitorous mind wandering off to when he might see you within the halls of Diasomnia again.

a/n ! im gonna be real w u idk what i was going for either... i wanted something that would be an insight into what mc was going through... but rather it seemed to be an insight on a perverted gc and a more (normal) sebek [hes gonna have his yandere moments in his section dont worry]. i was hoping to use sebek to provide a more normal perspective on whats going on... but hmmm :/// also jack doesnt talk in the last gc convo bc its way past his bedtime and hes sleepy lol. i think rushed thru this intermission too much. ill take my time and perfect the diasomnia one! promise!

Two of them. They knew your language, perhaps through eating whoever you replaced-whoever hadn't followed the rules.

You learned their names unwillingly.

Satoru was the more playful of the two. He'd coo and titter whenever the moon was full and luminous, illuminating the darkened waters. He's more talkative out of the duo. His smile is filled with fangs, eager for a bite as he speaks to you with coaxing words, begging you to come out into the water.

Suguru is more docile, at least, that's what you initially assumed. His voice is quiet, deep, and gentle. His words and eyes are patronizing. He looks at you like he's almost impressed you've lasted this long with them in the waters.

You are the longest lighthouse resident. You haven't quit or 'disappeared' into the sea. You think your resistance for staying this long is something they are quietly influenced by. These recent months, something has changed between them. They look at you less like you're a meal and more like...you don't want to think about it for too long.

Their only redeeming quality is their singing: Low and soft and sweet. Utterly enchanting and beautiful like a well-refined orchestra. You know the song they play is for you, so you can inch closer to the water, let them pull you into their depths. Some nights, you turn off your radio and listen to their melodies.

The lighthouse hinders them somehow. It stops their music from fully entrancing you and forcing you to follow their song into the sea. At least, that's what the notes from the past residents tell you-the only remnant left of their presence.

You follow their teachings. You never abandon the lighthouse, you never shut it off, and you never dare to go into the water.

You were preparing another bland dinner when you saw her from your cabin.

She was bobbing just on the surface of the water. You stare at the glimpses the ocean gives you. Glimpses of brown hair. No fins. No scales that dazzled under the moonlight.

A human. 

A human drowning.

You waste no time. You fly out the cabin with a ring buoy firmly tucked underneath your arm. The wind rushes past your face as you race to the sea. You run and run as questions swirl through your head. How did a human girl get out here? How was she still alive? Was there a shipwreck you weren't aware of?

How long did you have until those two noticed she's also out there?

You stop right at the shallow cliff, right where the water laps at the rocks. You yell to grab her attention before you through the ring buoy.

"Grab on!" You urge, wildly looking back and forth in the water. The ocean was silent. Those creatures weren't out there.

Or maybe they were waiting for the right moment.

Her hand snags on the firm ring and she grabs at it. Good. At least she has some strength left.

"Help." Her voice is soft and almost drowning within the ocean. "Please help me."

"You're okay." You try to assure, hoping your voice is calm and not completely frazzled. "Just come closer. I got you."

She was seconds away from being dragged inside by sharp claws, but you didn't want to make her panic anymore than she already was. You didn't think. The buoy floats closer and she reaches out her hand to yours. Thoughtlessly, you mirror her. You try to swipe at her hand, wanting to bring her up to safety. You grasp at her finger, barely managing to touch her palm. 

The lighthouse began its next rotation at that moment. The light drifted over the ocean, over the rocks, over the cliff, and over her.

Whatever mirage she puts on herself melts away.

No part of her is human–you doubted she ever was. Fins frame either side of her face. Golden brown eyes stare straight into your soul. 

You stagger back, falling on the grass as you crawl away from the monster. Her visage changes as soon as she picks up on your terrified expression. You watch as she inspects the hand you touched. 

“That’s a shame, I almost had you.” She sighs, the tremor in her voice gone. Now her tone is bored, laced with the tiniest hint of amusement. 

“You’re so soft.” She breathes out, before her gaze locks back onto yours. “I wonder how other parts of you feel.” 

The adrenaline withers from your veins. You helplessly stare at her as the other two show up. Of course they were around. They were just waiting to drop the charade. 

“You were so close, Shoko!” Satoru chirps, utterly thrilled by the trick. 

“It was just a matter of bad luck.” Suguru agrees, casting his gaze onto your limb form. He tilts his head. 

“For whatever reason, this one always has the ability to get away at just the right moment. Very irritating.” He smiles with glinting teeth. He loves it. He loves the game he plays with you every night. 

You grit your teeth. “Fuck you.” You hiss at all three of them. Your harsh words couldn’t snuff out the tremor in your voice. It does nothing. If anything it eggs them on, considering how widely Satoru smiled. 

“You’re so cute.” He awed, like you were some hissing kitten. 

They were all sick. Inwardly, you curse at yourself for being so stupid. There was never a human drowning. You were an idiot for letting yourself think it was anything but a trick. Like they would ever miss their chance for an easy meal. 

You shakingly get to your feet and make your way back to your cabin. Satoru whines at your retreat. 

“Leaving so soon?” He calls. “Come back, let’s talk some more!” 

“Don’t you want to get to know your new friend?” Suguru calls out. You ignore him. 

You don’t have to worry about them, you tell yourself over and over again. As long as you follow the rules, you’ll never disappear. You can make it through your post as long as you follow the rules. 

“The lighthouse won’t hold up forever.” 

That makes you stop. 

Shoko grins at your hesitance. 

“It’s old.” She shrugs. “Anything can happen: a bad storm, broken circuits, or…it’ll just go out one day. That’s how we got the others.” 

You stare at her. She never breaks her gaze. 

“Don’t worry. You’re not like the others.” Her teeth glint. “When we finally have you, we’ll keep you.” 

You run. You don’t stop until you’re back in the cabin. Your breaths are ragged and heavy as you latch the door shut behind you, barricading yourself. It’s a false sense of safety. The only real security was the lighthouse.

You stare up at the lighthouse as it towers over your meager cabin. The light was swirling and strong. She was lying to you. She was messing with you–trying to put meaningless paranoia in your head. The lighthouse has been standing for nearly a century. It was always there. You constantly checked its circuitry and fixed up whatever seemed the slightest bit out of order. It was just another trick. 

Their song starts up again. You could hear a new voice added to the chorus. Their voices were just as beautiful and enchanting as all the other days. 

You can barely hide your smile at how she rolled her eyes at the mention of her fellow packmate.

“It’s why I wanted to talk to you, actually.” She shifts a little closer. Her eyes are soft from the lack of sleep as she gazes at you. “I heard you’re part of a matchmaking program.”

You nod. She glances away. Shoko almost looks sheepish.

“I was wondering if we’d be able to join.”

A smile stretches across your face.

“Of course! What time do you think you could come in?”

☕︎

You didn’t expect Shoko to present as Alpha.

You two were childhood friends. Being older than her, it was more like you were a babysitter–not that you minded the role. Shoko was a quiet kid even in her younger years. You liked that she often trailed behind you, like your own shadow. It was flattering in its own way. You never had any siblings, so you often regaled her as your younger sister.

You thought she’d be a beta like you. Or maybe even omega. Alpha was the last designation you would’ve ever given a girl like her. Just like you, she had two beta parents–being anything else was close to impossible.

But, looking back, the signs were always there.

The scuffle wasn’t the worst you’d ever seen. Fights are normal, especially for kids around your age. Emotions run high, sometimes. If left unsupervised, children don’t usually have healthy outlets.

Shoko wasn’t a kid you’d ever picture getting into a fight, yet the evidence was clear. It looked worse than it actually was. You can see remnants of dirt clinging to her youthful cheeks from when she took the fall. Her clothes were lightly scraped, as was the skin on her knees. It was nothing a Band-Aid couldn’t fix.

You hadn’t seen what happened. You had been on the other side of the playground when the yelling happened. Shoko barely struggled when you pulled the kids apart. The other girl was crying. Shoko wasn’t. Being the older one, you decided it was best to end the day right then and dragged Shoko home.

The girl was always quiet, but that walk was like talking to stone. She never budged from her clamped lips and tightened fists, no matter how hard you prodded. A part of you understood why. She was probably resigning herself to her parents’ beratement. She didn’t need a lecture from you, too.

Just when you were about to give up completely, she gave in.

“She said she was your friend.” She told you quietly.

“The girl with pigtails?” You asked

Shoko nodded. “She called you her friend, even though you’re mine.”

You glanced down at her hand, tightly clasped on your own.

“I can be both of your friends.” You gently tried to suggest.

She shook her head. Her grip tightens.

“No.” She said with a finality you’ve never seen in a child before. “Only mine.”

☕︎

Despite being well into the modern era, alpha-and-omega matchmaking programs haven’t lost popularity. It’s become a multibillion-dollar industry. Nowadays, instead of being sold off for political power, omegas and alphas can simply go to their local agency to find their mates.

Obviously, betas like you aren’t permitted to join, but you are highly encouraged to become matchmakers. Neutral scents are helpful when it comes to finding alpha-omega pairs. It’s comforting to omegas and non-threatening to alphas. Betas can not only act as matchmakers but also as barriers if things go awry.

You highly doubt that you’d need to be the latter, however, for this pack.

They arrive ten minutes before the official appointment. You knew Shoko had something to do with that because you doubt Satoru ever lost his lazy streak. Having no client, you decide to take them in early.

Satoru’s just as chatty since the days from highschool. He trails behind you as you lead the group to your office, asking about your day and then telling you about his. You didn’t think he’d be a teacher, but he always managed to surprise you.

Suguru is reserved but friendly. He greets you after Satoru’s tight hug, giving one of his own. You heard he now heads a Buddhist temple, though you never considered him the religious type. It’s hard to imagine him in traditional clothes after seeing him in casual wear and a high school uniform for so long.

“Didn’t expect you to be part of a breeding program.” Satoru comments after you’ve shuffled them into your office. He leans in, probably to inhale your scent again. They’ve all done that once or twice. Satoru’s just not as subtle as the other two.

It’s an alpha thing. Omegas and alphas are different from betas. Unlike you, they rely more on pheromones to guide them around the world. He hasn’t seen you in a while; it’s normal to see if your scent has changed.

“We try not to call ourselves that.” You lightly respond, settling behind your office. “Trust me, it’s not as intense. All we do today is look over what you want in a mate—basic preferences. Then I can pair you up with whoever fits best. What you do after is entirely up to you.”

It’s a bad joke. Only Satoru smiles.

You clear your throat.

“So, did you have anything in mind?”

They exchange glances. You, completely used to losing alphas, continue briskly.

“We’ll start with broad strokes,” you tell them. “Obviously, you want a mate who’s open to a pack, right?”

“Yes.” Shoko agrees.

You type it across your keyboard. Alpha packs do a lot better in the program compared to single alphas. Often, your omega clients specifically requested them. You doubted you would have any trouble finding a match for these three.

“Perfect. Any age preference? Younger, older—“

“—older.” Satoru interrupts. Suguru elbows him, but Satoru doesn’t waver. “Definitely older.”

Suguru and Shoko don’t look particularly happy at his intrusion, but nobody objects. You add it to their profile.

“Any particular scents?” You ask.

“Not too sweet,” Suguru says. “Something more neutral.”

Satoru doesn’t look too interested in this topic. “What he says.”

Shoko is more concrete with her answer.

“Earl Grey.”

You try not to react to that, typing it into their profile with little hesitation.

“I think that’s enough for now.” You hurry along. “Do you have any education or work expectations?”

“Not particularly,” Shoko responds. “I think we’re looking more for a homemaker type– someone willing to settle down for pups.”

You had a feeling. Alpha packs are more interested in being providers, caring for their omega mate who is cuddled in a nest. Most omegas feel the same way. It’s a fairly symbiotic relationship.

“What about you?” Satoru asks.

You look up at him.

“Pardon?”

“Are you thinking of settling down? Having kids and all that?” He continues.

“Satoru.” Suguru chastises, but there’s nothing sharp in his voice. Shoko says nothing. Her warm, honey eyes always felt piercing. You always chalked it up to yet another alphan trait.

You shrug, thinking nothing of the question.

“Quit my job for a mate, you mean?” You ask before you shake your head. “I don’t think I could. I think I’d only be able to do it for a specific person, but I don’t think a person like that exists.”

Besides, you love your job. You love helping people find matches and life-long mates. Why would you ever give that up for children?

“But if that person did exist–”

“Satoru.” You interrupt. “We’re looking for a match for you, not for me.”

He huffs, leaning back in his seat, almost like a scolded child.

“Fine.” It almost sounds like a whine. You try not to laugh.

The rest of the appointment proceeds smoothly. Half an hour later, you’re able to gather additional specifications and preferences. Unlike the first few questions, the three are far more lax with their answers. Typically, after the first session, you’re able to put together matches off the top of your head. For whatever reason, these three were far too vague for you to get a clear idea.

“I think I can figure things out from here.” You tell them when the hour is up. “Would you be ready to meet your potential matches in a week or so?”

Suguru genuinely looks surprised. “I didn’t realize it would be so quick.”

“It’s more for trial than anything else.” You respond. “Don’t feel pressured if you aren’t ready.”

“That’s fine,” Shoko tells you. “Will you be with us when we meet them?”

“Of course not.” You assure. “I’ll just give you their profile. Whatever happens next is entirely up to you.”

You expect her to look relieved. She says nothing. None of them do.

“In any case, it was really nice seeing you three again!” You say when you lead them out to the door. “I wonder why we never met up after high school?”

Satoru frowns as he returns your hug. “It’s ‘cuz you practically ran away from us, remember?”

You wouldn’t necessarily call graduating and moving to college ‘running away’. Still, you laugh.

“I’ll try not to do that from now on.” You tell him. “You still have my number, right?”

Satoru’s still whining as you walk them through shiny glass doors. Suguru offers to buy you lunch, to which you decline. You had another client in a few minutes.

“One more thing before you go.” You call out just before they leave. “I’m a little curious: what made you decide to join the program?”

The three look at eachother. A secret conversation only alphas could ever have.

“We got tired of waiting,” Suguru answers.

Later, you realize that isn’t much of an answer.

☕︎

The three weren’t always this close. You could distinctly remember a time Shoko hated the other two.

Your community was mostly betas, with a small number of omegas. Until then, Shoko lived her school life as the sole alpha for miles around. Being her senior, you constantly worried about her. Alphas weren’t betas. There would always be a missing link between the two of you, no matter how hard you tried to accommodate her. As much as Shoko assured you otherwise, you knew a part of her would always feel that void.

And then, Gojo and Geto came along.

Both alphas. Both in the same year as Shoko. They exemplified the look of Alpha. Both of them towered well over the rest of their peers, already well over six feet despite their ages. When they smiled, you could see glimpses of silvery-white fangs. Being the only alphas in the entire grade, they were extremely interested in Shoko. You were ecstatic, happy to see your friend finally make friends with others.

Shoko was less than enthusiastic.

You didn’t understand why she wasn’t perceptive towards them. When they tried to extend their friendship, she raised her hackles, and her eyes would darken. She was well past her days getting into fights on the playground, but you were sure she was close to snapping on certain occasions.

Gojo and Geto continued to hover around her, despite her hostility. Since you were her friend, they hovered around you, too.

You tried to be a bridge for the three. Shoko hardly ever rejected your invitations to hang out. When the other two tagged along, that fact never changed, but she never seemed happy about it. She’d latch onto your arm, baring her teeth when the other two got a bit too close for her liking. You stopped initiating those hangouts as her clinginess often got far too debilitating.

“You need to be more social.” You finally told her.

“No.” She responded stiffly, her voice muffled by your shoulder.

You two sat on the school rooftop underneath a sunny, cloudless sky. Even on days like these, it was sparsely populated. Most of the student body preferred to have their lunches in the cafeteria or the courtyard.

“They’re being nice.” You urged. “They’re being so nice, and I can’t be your only friend forever.”

“Why not?” She asked.

You rolled your eyes, jostling her ever so slightly.

“I just can’t.” You insisted because you have bigger dreams than being stuck in a tiny town, you know, that has no future. There was a life outside of this place.

Also, you didn’t like being Shoko’s only friend. There’s a reason why she’s so protective of you–possessive at times. It’s an alpha thing: they can’t help but take and keep. Her possessiveness was terrible in her younger years, but at least now she’s a tiny bit better about you having other people to hang out with. Still, she refuses to become closer to anyone but you. Even in middle school, she barely had a handful of acquaintances she was quick to abandon in favor of you. It’s not healthy to be so isolated like that. You worried for her.

She’s about to say something, but then something sour crossed over her face. Shoko hunched over as she melded herself further into your side. You abandoned your chastising and gathered her up in your arms.

Shoko’s ruts were severe. She was almost always out of school those days. Even after her rut passed, she took days to recover. She was weakened and intensely more irritable in the aftermath. The only good part of her ruts was that in the days after, her scent became stronger, even to your weak betan nose. Shoko's scent reminded you of summer turning into fall. A low hill. A grassy plain. A dessert just after a large rainfall. Unlike the few alphas you knew of, her scent wasn't overly invasive. It was clean, and low, and rumbling. 

For Shoko, certain vices eased the agony. Nicotine helped, but you never liked the way the smell of cigarettes clung to her body. You tried to help the best you could, letting her cuddle you in quiet places away from prying eyes, rubbing her scent all over you to self-soothe.

But there was a limit a beta could do.

Her volatile ruts were yet another reason to be closer to Geto and Gojo. Alpha pheremones help other alphas. Just being in proximity to another would be enough to steady herself.

Shoko knew this, and yet she remained stubborn.

“You don’t get it,” she whispered after her episode passed. Her eyes were shut as she leaned further into your space.

“You can’t smell them like I can.”

You tilted your head, about to prod further, when Shoko opened her eyes. Her lips twitched into a frown. Less than a heartbeat later, the rooftop door flung open just as a giddy Gojo called out, ‘Found you!’ with a satisfied Geto trailing just behind him.

Shoko barely held back a growl as you pulled her off her feet to greet the other two, quickly forgetting her words. No matter how resistant she was, your determination to get her closer to the other two never faltered.

But sometimes, even you wondered if they were right for each other.

You never meant to eavesdrop. You and Shoko always walked home together; it’s the only reason you made your way to her homeroom, wondering what the hold-up was. She never made you wait. If anything, you always arrived after her.

It looked like a fight, but why would Gojo and Geto smile if they were fighting?

Shoko sat at her desk. She barely packed. You saw notepads and pencils scattered across her space. Gojo sat backwards on the desk right in front of her, hands crossed on the chair as they stared eachother down. Geto stood a little way away.

They were already in mid-conversation. You barely caught the tail-end of it.

“-Who cares who marked who first?” Gojo said, an overdramatic pout arched over his lips.

“You should really learn how to share, Ieiri.” Geto continued because back then, they weren’t on a first-name basis yet. “It’d be better for all of us if you did.”

“You know that’s not natural, right?” Shoko responded; her honey eyes were no longer rich and warm. “You should give up.”

“Shouldn’t you, too, then?” Geto wondered.

The conversation ended the second Shoko noticed you. She stood up in a rush, barely shoving her things in her backpack before she marched up to you and dragged you away with a harsh grip on your arm. You could barely wave to your other two underclassmen before you were carted away by her.

You never asked, abandoning the curiosity as soon as you saw the expression on her face. You always wondered what would have happened if you had arrived just a bit later.

☕︎

Utahime wrinkles her nose before she enters your apartment.

“You smell like him.” She gripes.

You tilt your head before remembering there’s only one alpha in the world that made her face twist up like that.

Satoru always had a habit of scenting you in high school. You may not be able to smell it, but other omegas and alphas can. You scolding him while he sulked on his desk like a puppy wasn’t an uncommon sight. Obviously, he hadn’t broken the habit.

“I’ll have to talk to him about that.” You frown. “I don’t think omegas will like the idea of him scenting a beta.”

The omega perks up. “Wait, he’s joined the program?”

“All three of them, actually.” You tell her as you both settle down in your kitchen. “I managed to set them up with an omega just a couple of days ago.”

Your omega client seemed absolutely thrilled when you told him. Alpha packs are growing more uncommon by the day, so he was right to be excited about it. You hope it went well. He matched most of the pack's wants, so you don’t think it will end in complete shambles.

Utahime still looks unconvinced. “I didn’t think they went for omegas.”

You understood what she meant. In high school, those three never seemed interested in omegas. Shoko was friendly with Utahime, but Satoru always picked on her, and Suguru occasionally joined in. At first, you assumed it was a ‘pulling on the pigtails of the girl you liked’ situation, but their teasing often felt hostile.

“Maybe they finally grew up.” You tell her. “Do you ever wonder who the pack leader is? I never had the chance to ask them, but I always wondered.”

Asking about that kind of thing is a bit rude, especially if you weren’t a potential omega. You’ve seen other packs before, and it’s typically pretty easy to tell who the pack leader is. It’s usually the one who’s always biting the others down, keeping them in place. Shoko, Suguru, and Satoru aren’t like that. They work so well-together, it gets hard to tell who’s really calling the shots.

Utahime snorts. “It’s obviously Gojo.”

“Obviously?” You echo.

“His scent is the strongest. That’s usually what determines it,” She explains, not sounding too interested. “I bet he whined and whined until the other two gave in.”

You felt bad for laughing, but you could honestly imagine that.

“I’m really surprised Shoko’s still with them.” You continue. “I know they’re all pack, but she’s so different compared to the other two.”

Satoru was the most outgoing, but Suguru had his own quirks. Shoko was the odd one out, you always felt.

Utahime shrugs, rifling through her bag. “Maybe they have more in common with each other than you realize.”

For a bit, the topic of the three is dropped. You let Utahime ramble about her work and how her students are doing as she sets out her newest creation: a chocolate raspberry cake.

Omegas have certain quirks when their heat approaches. Utahime bakes–something you take full advantage of. You would feel bad about begging her to bring over her desserts all the time, but Utahime never seemed to mind your desperation. Like most omegas, Utahime's scent was slightly stronger. Now, even your weak betan nose could catch a whiff of her scent in the air. She smelled gentle, like flowers dancing in the wind on the side of a grassy mountain. 

“This is incredible.” You moan when you take another bite of chocolate goodness. It practically melts on your tongue. “Can you be my mate? I’d make you happy, I swear.”

She looks away. “Shut up.” There’s no heat in her voice.

“Have you considered it, though?” You wonder, inhaling another slice. “Joining the program, I mean. I can think of a few alphas that might interest you.”

She shakes her head. “I don’t think my type is in the program, and besides.” Her face turns disgusted. “Now that Gojo’s in it, I’m not taking any chances.”

You laugh. “I’d make sure to never pair you up, I promise!”

She huffs again. Your voice quietens as you remember something.

“Hey, I was wondering…what do I smell like again?”

She frowns. “Why do betas always ask that? You need to get better noses.”

“Just remind me.”

She rolls her eyes, but she acquiesces.

“You smell the same as always,” she tells you. “Like Earl Grey & Cucumbers.”

By the end of the week, you finally get the call you were waiting for.

You pick up on the second ring and immediately press the speaker button.

“Hiro!” You trill, making yourself comfortable on the sofa. “How have you been?”

Your omega client responds in kind. You make small talk until you eventually bring it up.

“So,” you ask, “how did the date go?”

You expect a barrage of excitement and blabbering. Hiro is a sweet guy. You could tell he would mesh well with those three. Inwardly, you congratulate yourself for making such a good match.

“It went okay.” His answer stills.

“Okay?” You repeat.

Just okay? You expect something far more than such a simple answer.

At your silence, Hiro continues.

“Maybe okay isn’t the best word. I liked them but…” he trails off. “I don’t think they liked me very much.”

“Huh,” you say, tapping your fingers. “What did they say exactly?”

“Not much, I mean, they were nice. I just don’t think our personalities meshed well. They were all so quiet, I felt like I was doing most of the talking.”

“Quiet? Even Satoru?”

“I don’t even think he spoke,” Hiro confesses.

You do not think the word quiet appeared in Gojo’s dictionary. He constantly chattered, unable to let the world forget he existed for hardly a moment. It was a major reason you paired Hiro with them. He is just as bubbly. You thought he and Satoru would work really well together.

“Wow,” you say after a while. “I’m sorry, I really thought things would work out between you four.”

“It’s fine,” Hiro responds, just as disappointed. “Plenty more fish in the sea, right?”

You once again tell Hiro your apologies before hanging up. Weird, you usually had more trouble appealing to your omega clients compared to your alpha ones. Maybe this would be a lot harder than you initially assumed.

☕︎

Halfway through your second year, Geto joined the newspaper club.

You were ecstatic when he told you. Shoko couldn’t participate in any early-school activities due to her poor sleep habits, and you doubt Gojo would’ve enjoyed them. Having somebody you knew do an activity you enjoyed was really exciting. It was something you and he bonded over, much to Shoko’s chagrin.

When you had club projects together, it was common to go over to one or the other’s houses. You liked Geto’s house. It wasn’t so large, not like Gojo’s sprawling mansion you’d had the misfortune of getting lost in once or twice. Geto’s home was vibrant and warm, filled with splashes of color and properly decorated furniture.

His parents were nice too. You liked the snacks they brought out, more than happy to indulge in the intricate sweets they prepared.

His parents were a proper alpha-omega pair. His alphan-father was boisterous and hearty in a way that reminded you of Gojo. His voice was loud, and his laugh practically rang through the halls.

His omegan-father was a bit on the meek side. You could count the number of times he’d directly spoken to you. His voice was soft–a complete contrast to his mate. He often resigned himself to quietly nodding along with whatever his husband rambled on. You could count the number of times he’d directly even looked at you.

Once, when Geto was still rummaging upstairs for something or another, you wondered out loud how they met. The alpha was more than happy to tell you the story of how he met his omega. You learned that they were childhood friends before the omega decided to part ways for a bit. Eventually, they reunited and got mated soon after.

“You waited for ten years?” You asked in awe. “Did you ever consider moving on?”

The alpha laughed before shaking his head, “Never.” He told you with a smile. “When alphas find their mate, nothing can keep them away, not even time.”

Geto’s other father stood in the kitchen, dutifully wiping down a counter. He didn’t react when his husband told you about their love story. You could only assume he was used to it.

“That’s beautiful.” You gushed.

There’s a secret smile on the alpha’s lips before Geto marches downstairs, leading you out the door with a glare directed at his father.

“Ignore him,” Geto told you as you trekked to school. “He tells that story to every person he can.” There’s a roll of his eyes, and he failed to hide his embarrassment.

“I think it’s sweet.” You kindly told him as he averted his gaze. “I don’t think I could wait ten years for someone like that.”

Geto considered you for a moment.

“I don’t think I could, either.” He finally admitted. “At the very least, I would get impatient by the end of it.”

You thought you were about to agree when your phone beeped. You glanced at the notification, and your heart skipped a beat.

Takahashi<3: I’m free after school:)

You barely hid your smile. Geto didn’t miss your sudden giddiness as you typed away on your phone.

“Did something happen?” He asked.

You shook your head and placed your phone back into your pocket.

“I think I have a date later.” You told him, oblivious to the twitch on his lips.

“A date?” Geto echoed. You cheerfully nodded.

You liked Takahashi since the start of the school year. He was in your homeroom, and you were already close acquaintances. You wanted to get closer to him, but Shoko often thwarted your plans. She made her distaste in Takahashi extremely clear. You tried not to get too upset by her attitude. She was protective of you and probably thought you could do better. It’s what friends did.

“Maybe we should keep this from Shoko.” You told Geto right before the school gates. “She doesn’t really approve of the guy.”

Geto hummed. “I’m not surprised.”

The day passed on as it normally would. You trudged through your sludge of classes and waited for school to finally be over. When it did, you practically jumped from your seat, barely waving off your friends as you rushed out of the school gates.

Takahashi wasn’t waiting for you, but you didn’t mind. You could take some time to calm your nerves.

You waited.

Five minutes.

Ten minutes.

You sent him a text.

Eighteen minutes.

You sent another.

Students filtered past you, eager to abandon their homework in favor of arcades and hanging out with their friends. You remained where you were, feeling your excitement drain the longer Takahashi refused to show his face.

After nearly an hour of waiting, you gave up. He wasn’t coming. You wanted to call him, but you can’t bring yourself to. Embarrassment crept up your shoulders and neck. You felt so stupid for even waiting around for this long.

They caught up to you when you were halfway home, glumly dragging your feet across the pavement. Gojo’s long arm draped over your shoulders as he lightly jostled you in an effort to catch your attention.

“Where are you going?” He cheerfully asked. You frowned.

“Home, obviously.” You told him before glancing further up ahead.

Geto gave a lazy wave. Shoko said nothing. You expected her to be a bit less receptive towards Gojo for putting his hands on you.

She had no reaction.

“So, you’re doing nothing, right?” Gojo asked. Glee radiated from his body. “We should go to the movies!”

“That sounds fun.” Geto agreed, before he gave you a pointed look. “As long as you didn’t have anything planned?”

You appreciated that he wanted to give you an out, but it was for nothing. You planned to spend the entire day with Takahashi. Your afternoon remained empty now that he unceremoniously ghosted you.

“That sounds fun,” You said, “but I’m not in the mood to–”

“I’m fine with anything as long as it isn’t that weird Earthworm movie Gojo kept talking about.” Shoko piped in as she stepped closer.

“But it looks so funny!” Gojo whined as he tugged you in the other direction. The other two followed right behind him. “You should give it a chance.”

Despite your reluctance, you were dragged off to the movies regardless. You couldn’t remember the film. The popcorn tasted buttery and salty in your mouth. Gojo kept disrupting you to talk shit about every character that popped onscreen. You weren’t allowed to go home until hours later, when the three made it their mission to walk you home. By that time, you’d forgotten about your botched date. You were far more interested in how the three had suddenly grown close.

It was as if they’d always been friends. Their conversations with each other felt natural, almost right. Even their bickering no longer held Shoko’s usual hostility. Perhaps you’d been wrong to try to force it. They just needed to find each other in their own way.

That day might not have ended the way you wanted it to, but you were still happy.

The very next day, Takahashi completely ignored you. He no longer smiled or greeted you. He seemed perfectly happy pretending you never existed in the first place.

If you were being honest, you did not mind in the slightest. Over time, you forgot about the guy who ditched you, and life continued on as always.

☕︎

Part of you expects the luxury.

When Suguru extended the invite, you knew he was never one to pull his punches. When he plans something, he goes all out. He adores dramatics and flair. This time was no exception.

The restaurant exuded extravagance the moment you stepped through crystal-clear glass doors. The warm air soothed the goosebumps gathering on your arms– a complete contrast to the chilly wind lingering just outside. The floors and ceilings were perfectly polished to the point where you could almost see your entire reflection. The spiral columns were perfect ivory, perfectly matching the black-and-white theme throughout the floor. Your heels clicked against the tiles as your hostess led you through the restaurant. The sounds of clinking utensils and glassware filtered through your ears.

They were already seated, three pairs of eyes clinging to your figure as you made their entrance. Satoru was more than happy to greet you first. His eyes simmer, but his smile barely falters as you get closer.

“What?” You ask.

Satoru wrinkles his nose.

“You smell like alpha.”

“It’s probably because I work with other alphas,” you say, “You know half of my clients are alphas, right?”

“Ignore him.” Suguru cuts in before Satoru continues to badger you. “He skipped his afternoon nap, so he’s a bit fussy this evening.”

You wave it off. Truthfully, you were used to alphas getting mad over another alpha’s scent. It’s happened to a couple of your omega clients, as well as to you. It’s instinct for alphas to flare up when they smell other alphas. Biological. They can’t help it. You actually expected Shoko to be more hostile because of it, yet as you glanced over, she barely even blinked. She must’ve gotten over her scent possession days from high school.

You adjust yourself in your seat as the waitress strolls over. Food and drinks are ordered. You listen to Satoru whine about work while the other two chastise him. You promised yourself you wouldn’t drink too much, but barely half an hour in, and you’re already tipsy. You know this was supposed to be a get-together, a high-school reunion of sorts. Work was absolutely not to be discussed, but you couldn’t help getting yourself worked up over it. They might’ve been your old high school friends, but they were also the most difficult clients you’ve ever had.

Shoko notices first.

“Just say it.” She eyes you.

“Say what?” You tilt your head.

“You’re mad, right?” Satoru pipes in, absolutely delighted when you frown in his direction. “It’s all over your face.”

“I’m not mad.”

“Oh, it’s that bad, hm?” Suguru hums, and you roll your eyes.

“I’m not mad.” You repeat, before wincing. “I’m…frustrated, I think. You guys are giving me a run for my money.”

After Hiro’s clear rejection, you paired a couple more omegas with the three of them. Each one ended in the same way. You would get a call from a disappointed omega telling you it didn’t really work out. Later that same day, three alphas would innocently seat themselves in your office–ready for another match.

You don’t even know what you’re even mad about. They’re allowed to make rejections; that’s their right. For whatever reason, it oddly felt like they were messing with you.

You could expect that type of behavior from Satoru, maybe even Suguru, but Shoko? You could never see her do something like that for the fun of it.

(Or maybe you were clinging to her high school demeanor–the sweet, quiet girl who used to trail behind you with soft brown eyes and a muted smile)

“At this point, I think you might be doing this on purpose.” Your lips curl up into a smile to indicate how silly you think that is. It’s clearly a joke. Low-hanging fruit, you guide them to so they can quell your worries.

None of them refute it. Eventually, Satoru starts rambling about yet another incident involving the students at his school. Suguru chimes in with his thoughts every now and then. Shoko just berates her packmates for being such nuisances. The topic is carefully avoided for the rest of the night.

With delicious and expensive food carefully stashed into your stomach, the four of you decide to call it a night. When you reveal you took the cab here, the three are quick to invite you into their own car. It doesn’t take you too long to give in.

When you step out into the cold, Shoko offers her jacket. She used to do that back in middle school; smother you with her clothes any time she could. She’d take your clothes too, sometimes. You used to find skirts and shirts missing every time she came over. She never stopped, not even when you scolded her for it over and over again. ‘An alpha thing,’ your parents once told you when you complained, ‘you need to be more considerate of her nature. She can’t help herself. It’s instinct.’.

When she does it now, you don’t think it has anything to do with her instincts. She grew out of it when high school came around. Today, Shoko wraps her jacket around you to protect you from the blistering cold as you follow them outside.

The car belongs to Satoru. You’ve never seen it before in your life, but you can instantly tell. It’s Satoru’s in the way that it’s bright red and sleek. He starts the car with a low rumble. You climb in the back, feeling your seat hum as the car purrs to life.

Suguru settles next to you while Shoko gets into the passenger seat. Your stomach flips when you start to buckle yourself in. You start to remember all the times Satoru nearly killed you with his driving skills back when he first got his license. He’d been so excited back then, constantly offering rides to your house, the arcade, and even to places where there was no need for a car. His need to show off was an ever-present part of his personality back then.

“Did he ever learn to drive properly?” You can’t help lean over and whisper in Suguru’s ear.

He laughs while Satoru puffs from somewhere in front of you.

“I heard that,” Satoru says, “My driving was never that bad. You’re so dramatic.”

It was much worse than bad, but you decided not to bully him about it. Surprisingly, Satoru drives a lot nicer than you expect. He maintains a mostly steady pace, not at all like the sharp halts and breaks his younger self seemed to like so much.

He catches your eye in the rearview mirror.

“See?” He tells you with a proud smile.

You roll your eyes, unamused.

“Honestly, I’d take highschool you’s driving over Utahime’s,” you say, watching the city nightlife as the car speeds up, “she insists on driving fifteen miles below the speed limit. It takes an hour to get anywhere.”

“Utahime?” Suguru echoes, and you remember he probably hadn’t seen her since high school.

“How is she?” Shoko asks.

“She’s doing well.” You respond.

You’re about to offer a reunion before you clamp the urge down. She wasn’t their friend, after all. If anything, she barely tolerated them. Anytime your juniors would crash your hangouts, Utahime’s face would instantly pinch up. For your sake, she remained mostly civil.

“Is she mated?” Shoko asks.

You eye her. It’s a weird question to ask, but you give in anyway, not really seeing the harm.

“No, not that I know of,” you admit, “she’s not a big fan of the matchmaker program, either.”

You’ve tried to convince her numerous times, but Utahime refused to budge. She’d get oddly offended anytime you even broached the topic, so you’ve decided to avoid it.

For a split second, you catch Shoko and Suguru looking at eachother with dark eyes. Secret conversations only alphas could have. You bet their scent was dipping in a way only they could sniff out. A part of you always wondered it was like, but you never wondered for long. It’s not like you’d ever get to experience it.

Were they thinking of Utahime as a potential mate? You didn’t want to burst their bubble, but you highly doubt she’d be happy about that.

“We keep talking about our love lives, but what about you?” Suguru suddenly asks.

You glance at him. “My love life?” You ask.

“Met anyone special lately?” Satoru prods from the front.

You shake your head, watching the scenery pass you by. You remembered them being curious about your dating life back in high school, constantly hounding you the moment you got close to another beta who wasn’t them. It was only natural. Alphas and omegas found lifetime partners in a very different way compared to betas. To you, the idea of talking and going on dates to get to know someone is natural. To alphas, it must sound like an alien concept.

“I’ve got my hands too full of you three to even bother meeting someone.” You tell them with a teasing lilt in your voice before it fades. “Besides, meeting another beta is a lot harder than meeting up with an omega. Everything’s less instinctual, I think.”

“Why would you only restrict yourself to betas?” Shoko asks.

The alcohol was getting to you. Your lips are a bit looser than usual. Your words are cruder. You roll your eyes.

“Who else is there? An omega?” Your voice dipped into a sardonic sneer like you couldn’t even stomach the thought. “An alpha?”

You laugh at the joke. They don’t join in. You don’t notice the darkened tension in the car as you continue to stare out the window, not minding the silence. The evening tired you out. You stifle a yawn, and your eyes drift closed.

Something sharp grazed your neck.

Your eyes snap open. The car has stopped. You glance over to Suguru.

He smiles. There’s a respectful distance between the two of you. He remains a seat apart.

“Did I startle you?” He genuinely asks. “Sorry, I was trying to wake you up.”

“Oh.” You say, calming down your racing heartbeat. “No, it’s okay. Are we here?”

You raise up, trying to peek at the window. Your apartment complex lies just a little way away.

“Home sweet home!” Satoru cheers, his glee having fully returned.

“We’ll walk you up,” Shoko suggests.

“No.” You fumble with your seatbelt. “You’ve done so much already. Thanks for the night. It was fun.”

“It was.” Suguru agrees. “We should do it again, sometime.”

You eye him again. He still hasn’t moved. You resist the urge to touch your neck.

“Yeah,” you say, trying not to make your voice sound so clipped. “That would be great.”

You step out into the cool night air, trying to ignore the three pairs of eyes that followed you across the sidewalk and up the stairs. As soon as you got out of their eyesight, you finally felt like you could breathe again.

Hours later, when you’ve showered and settled into bed, you finally decide to tell yourself there was nothing. You had been half-asleep. You probably dreamed it. You’ve known those three your entire lives; there was no way they could do something like that.

And yet, a part of you could feel it on your neck. You reach up to lightly press on the patch of skin. There was nothing, but a part of you had that feeling memorized. You don’t think you could ever forget that feeling.

Teeth rasping right over your scent gland.

☕︎

You never truly saw Shoko as an alpha until your last year of high school.

You never had the chance to. You’d grown up with her by your side. You saw her every day. You didn’t notice her slowly surpassing you in height. You didn’t notice the way her teeth grew sharper and sharper. To you, she remained as Shoko: your tiny little follower.

In your head, you always put her in a different category than Satoru and Suguru. They were your friends, but they were also alphas. Shoko was your friend. There was a difference, though you weren’t sure what the difference was.

The incident happened sometime toward the end of the school year. By then, the three had formed a true pack. All the bad blood they shared in their first year had completely scattered by the second. They matched eachother well, moving as one coordinated unit. When the four of you hung out, you felt like you were the odd one out. It made you wonder if this was how Shoko felt when you forced her to hang out with your friends, an alpha surrounded by betas.

You weren’t upset at her for finding a friend group she matched with, regardless of how little you fit in. She deserved that.

You appreciated that she tried to incorporate you into her circle, too.

“Are you ignoring us?” Suguru asked.

You gave him a look, already exasperated.

“What are you talking about?” You frowned. “You literally asked me to check your essay. That’s what I’m doing.” You gestured to the paper on your desk.

Technically, it wasn’t your desk. This wasn’t your classroom. The rest of the second year had already left for the day, preferring to spend their time at home or at clubs. These three remained the odd ones out, still lounging on their desks hours after the bell rang.

Since Shoko had this bad habit of refusing to let you walk home alone, you were often forced to sit with them, waiting around until they decided to leave.

You sat just behind Suguru and Shoko. Suguru’s elbows rested on the chair’s back as he watched you work. Shoko mirrored him. Satoru abruptly left a few minutes ago, most likely to get a snack from the vending machine to satisfy his sweet tooth. The only evidence of his presence was his sunglasses and his backpack, hung over his chair.

“I’m starting to think you just gave this to me so I won’t get bored.” You complained. “Your writing’s perfect as always. What am I even looking for?”

“I’m sure you’ll critique it well,” Suguru responded, as an amused smile spread across his lips. “I trust your judgment.”

You rolled your eyes but cast your gaze down on the paper, hoping to find something to nitpick. You knew that was an impossible feat. These three were at the top of their class for a reason.

“I give up.” You told him, handing his paper back. “It’s perfect. I see a 100 in your near future. Stop fishing for compliments.”

He laughed, but he accepted his essay back with fingers ever so gently brushing over yours.

“Besides, I’m not really good at grading.” You continued. “Utahime’s the literature expert.”

“I don’t think she’ll be too happy being asked for a favor like this.” Suguru countered as he tucked away his assignment. His nimble fingers ran across his backpack and tugged the zip shut.

You clicked your tongue. “That’s because you and Satoru are constantly picking on her.”

Your eyes slide to Shoko.

“She likes you at least.” You tell her with a teasing smile.

In that, you mean the two girls are civil to each other. By that time, you gave up on Utahime’s ability to cozy up to these guys. They’re a lost cause–the few omegas in your school already steer clear of them. It’s clear they aren’t looking for anyone to complete their pack.

“I don’t think it’s like that.” She refuted.

You opened your mouth to respond, but then their expressions shifted.

Their hackles raised. They sat up straighter. Alert. You’ve never seen them act like that before. Your smile faded, pulled away from your lips by their sudden behavior.

There’s a soft thump at the classroom entrance. Your eyes landed on Satoru’s body, leaning against the door. His breaths were ragged, shoulders hunched over.

You stood up, making your way towards him. Shoko called your name, but you didn’t stop. You hesitantly reached for your junior. Concern settled at the back of your throat. Was he sick or something? He seemed okay when he left just a few minutes ago.

“Satoru?” You called, watching his shoulders stiffen. “Is everything okay–”

You saw his eyes. There was a flash of blue and teeth before he lunged at you.

Suguru stepped in before he could make contact.

There was a clatter of desks as Suguru pushed his friend to the floor and restrained him. You stumbled back, nearly tripping over on your feet, before your back collided with Shoko. She held you securely in her arms as you watched the struggle.

You couldn’t even recognize your friend as he breathed heavily, still pinned underneath your other friend. His eyes hadn’t left yours. They were clouded, unfocused.

Satoru’s scent was often muted to your beta nose. Sometimes, when he got particularly worked up, you caught a whiff of something deep and almost fruity in the air.

Today, the clear scent of Satoru invaded your senses.

Rut, your brain supplied even when your body remained helpless to do anything but watch. Satoru had gone into rut.

“Should–” Your voice shook. You swallowed down your nerves. “Should we get a teacher–”

Shoko called your name again. This time, you listened.

Your eyes drifted up to meet her own. She stared straight at Satoru’s writhing body.

“You need to go. Now.”

You don’t recognize her tone. You’ve never heard such a voice come from her before. It was deep, almost guttural. Unapologetically alpha.

It was why you obeyed. Silently, you packed up your stuff, putting away your assignments and pens, shoving them into your bag. You avoided the scene of the two alphas calming down their packmate as you fled the classroom. You heard Satoru’s grunts through the hall. They followed you, rang through your ears the entire walk home.

The next day, Satoru wasn’t at school. When he returned the day after, the incident remained unspoken. The three refused to acknowledge it. You did the same, following in their footsteps. It was easier to pretend everything was fine. You wanted to forget the vision of Satoru staring up at you with clouded eyes. You wanted to forget Suguru’s strength as he restrained his friend. You wanted to forget what you heard in Shoko’s voice.

It was easier to pretend.

Around that time, you looked into colleges out of town.

☕︎

You think it’s time you cut Satoru, Suguru, and Shoko off.

Not personally. It’s the first time in a while that the four of you have seen each other since high school. Nostalgia for the good old days clouds your vision. You couldn’t do that to them or to yourself.

But clearly, your services were not working out for them. The many matches and omegas you have set up always ended in rejection. There wasn’t a single omega they liked, and they often had vague reasons for why. Getting a clear answer was like pulling teeth. Maybe they couldn’t be honest with you because of your past with them.

It was not fair to those three. Maybe you were wrong to offer your services. You should have recommended one of your fellow matchmakers instead. A part of you will always feel guilty for jumping the gun like that, far too excited to help your friends find love than being logical.

You’d cut them off professionally. As for personally, you would still keep in touch here and there. Just not as often. You were gradually declining their invitations to hang out. You texted them less and less. You wouldn’t cut them off, but you were slowly starting to remember why you drifted away from those three in the first place.

You agonized over your decision for days, wondering how to break it to them.

When they extend the offer for drinks at their place, you decide to bite the bullet.

One rainy evening, you step out of your car, blinking away the drizzle as you stare up at the mansion. It was large enough to pack ten families into the estate. You knew Satoru’s family was well off, but it always breaks your brain when you try to understand how well off. Satoru offhandedly mentioned he liked the property for how demure it was compared to his childhood home. The front door puts your entire apartment to shame.

You barely wait a second after you knock. The door pulls open, and Shoko invites you in with a smile on her face. You return her hug, feeling her soft cashmere sweater underneath your fingers. She’d been smoking recently. The scent of it was faint but still noticeable in the air. A part of you wonders if you can chastise her as you did back when you two were kids.

You thank her. Thunder rumbles in the distance as you step inside. The rain and wind picked up, swirling angrily outside and pelting the windows.

“How long do you think the rain will last?” You ask her as she leads you further inside.

There’s another boom of thunder and lightning. Shoko glances down at you thoughtfully.

“We’ll definitely be stuck in here for a while.” She tells you.

You nod along. Hopefully, the rain lets up by the time you go home.

Unfortunately for you, the rain poured throughout the evening. Mother Nature refused to let up for even a moment, going on and on.

Compared to the chill of the rain, the house provided bright lights and warmth. The storm raging outside was nothing compared to the three chattering about their daily lives. Throughout it all, you smiled and talked when necessary. You didn’t know if they noticed, but you were anxious, your entire body twinged with nerves. Despite the wine swirling in your cup, you refused to take a single drop. It’s best to have this conversation sober.

You wait until there’s a lull in the conversation. You take a deep breath.

“So, I was thinking about transferring you guys to another matchmaker,” you say. “But I want to hear your thoughts first.”

They don’t seem necessarily surprised by your declaration. Satoru adjusts himself on the couch. He props his chin on his hand as he studies you. His sunglasses slide down the bridge of his nose. Pretty sapphire eyes stare unwaveringly at you.

“Transfer us?” He echoes. “I thought we were your favorite clients.”

You try to match his lazy grin, but it comes out stilted and wobbly.

“I think it’d be best for you all.” You avert your gaze, fiddling with the cup, almost grateful to have something to keep your fingers busy. It was an expensive-looking cup. When the wine glass caught the light at just the right angle, it sparkled. Translucent glass turned iridescent.

“It’s not fair for me to keep you guys on like this for months,” you continue. “Every omega I’ve matched with you three always ends in rejection. Maybe you’d have better luck with someone else?”

You huff out a laugh.

“At this point, I’m starting to think you don’t want to meet omegas.”

You don’t need to have heightened senses of an alpha to know that was the wrong thing to say.

Immediately, the evening's quiet atmosphere turned heavy and daunting. You felt it in your shoulders as something invisible almost pinned you to the sofa.

Satoru’s smile almost turns feral.

“You’re right.” Shoko says.

You can’t read her expression. Her lips are pulled into a thin line. You think you like the lipstick shade the wears tonight. It compliments her tone well.

You squint at her. A pit forms in your stomach.

“What?”

“We don’t want an omega.” Suguru finishes for her. “And after meeting so many, I’ve never been certain of anything more. We don’t want an omega, we want you. We always have.”

He keeps his tone softing, almost coaxing, like you’re some wild animal. Despite the gentleness of his voice, his words cut deep into your soul. You’re shaking your head before you realize what you were doing.

“I don’t understand.” You repeat his words over and over in your head as you lift yourself from your seat. “I–I don’t understand why–”

“C’mon, you couldn’t have been that oblivious, right?” Satoru slips into the spot next to you. A long arm rests across your shoulders, keeping you in place. “We made things so obvious in high-school. Pretty sure Shoko was pining ever since elementary.”

You wait for Shoko to refute the claim. She doesn’t. Even now, you’re thinking everything they’re telling you is some type of sick joke–something alphas tell to unsuspecting betas to laugh at.

“I’m a beta.” You state the obvious. “You are all alphas. You can’t–you shouldn’t want me–”

“I don’t care.” Shoko says as she stares at you with pretty eyes the color of warm honey. “I never have.”

Satoru hums in agreement. He leans into your side, nuzzling his face into your neck. When he’s close like this, the smell of his scent is stronger. He smells like a Buddhist temple tucked away in the highest mountain peaks, unreachable to all. The wind howls and whisks past ice and rock. The air is freezing and thin, almost suffocating.

You move when he gets uncomfortably close to your nape, right where your scent gland is.

You throw his arm off your shoulders, standing up straight. You keep your eyes on the ground, unwilling to look at any of them. You don’t think you’d be able to look at them for a long time.

“I don’t want to listen to any of this anymore.” You hear yourself speak.

“You three are drunk. You don’t know what you’re saying.” You step away from the living room. Your movements are robotic. Stiled. Your body is kept on autopilot as your brain tries to keep up with what just happened. You head for the door.

“Sleep it off. We can talk about this later.”

You never reach the exit.

A hand grabs your wrist, keeping you in place. You turn back to see Suguru’s empty expression. His purple eyes are dark. He gives a smile. It looks hollow. Fake. Plastic.

“I’m sorry,” he tells you, “I just…I don’t think I can wait anymore.”

The words feel familiar. A conversation the two of you had a decade ago.

You open your mouth to ask when his lips swallow yours.

It’s utterly possessive in nature. Suguru’s scent envelopes you whole as he kisses you. He smells like what lurks underneath the roaring sea. You feel like you’re drowning, trapped in underwater caves where your ears pop from the immense pressure of the unwavering ocean.

Your hands press against his chest, urging him off. Even then, he only releases you when he’s had his fill. You stumble back, looking at his reddened lips and dark eyes. He’s breathing heavily, slightly hunched over like he’s ready to pounce. His eyes are wide and completely blown out.

You don’t think you’re looking at a person anymore.

You’re looking at a predator.

“Yeah.” It’s something between a growl and a laugh. “I don’t think I can wait any longer for this.”

Your words are cut off by a scream–your scream. There’s a harsh grip on your wrist before you’re being dragged back to the living room and haphazardly thrown onto the couch. Satoru’s hands keep you down as you struggle fruitlessly against his arms. He laughs somewhere above you as your vision twists and turns in mindless panic.

Satoru’s kiss is a lot more violent. He’s messy, smearing his scent all over your neck, your scent glands, eager to claim. His sharp teeth are more than happy to explore your lips. When he reluctantly pulls away in satisfaction, your lips are left in bloody tatters.

“I don’t think I can wait anymore, either.” Satoru agrees with his pack mate. “I’m surprised you were the one who broke first, Suguru. What happened to ‘waiting ‘till everyone’s ready’ and all that bullshit? So desperate.”

Fingers play with the edge of your shirt as Suguru scoffs. “Shut up.”

“Stop.” You’ve never heard your voice sound like this before. “Don’t–don’t–”

“Enough.”

The two freeze. So do you. Something blankets over your body.

Calming pheremones, the last piece of your brain supplies, but who would…?

Shoko’s face enters your vision. You blink helplessly at her.

Her expression is serene and calm as she studies your body. Her hand reaches out, gently caressing your face and tracing the length of your jawline. You feel the scrape of freshly manicured fingers.

On omegas, alpha pheremones help them become more receptive towards their alphan mates. It calms them, makes them feel closer to their chosen mate, and helps the process move along.

On betas, however, alpha pheremones cross wires. You weren’t built to be receptive. It clouds your vision, making your thoughts hazy. The panic remains even as your body slows down.

“Did they scare you?” She asks, voice gentle and dripping with faux innocence.

You can only manage a weak whine. She smiles and leans down to place a delicate kiss on your feverish temple.

“It’s my fault.” The worst part is how honest she sounds. “I should have told you back in high school. Maybe if I had, you wouldn’t have left, and maybe things would’ve been different…” Her voice trails off, and there’s this faraway look in her eyes.

“I meant what I said.” Her eyes focus on you again. “I don’t care that you’re a beta, but I don’t think we can treat you like a beta…not if we want you to understand that you belong with us.”

You look into her eyes, right underneath the bubbling warm honey. You think you see it then. Something rotten that festered there for at least a decade before it climbed its way to the surface. For a moment, you wonder how you hadn’t seen this in high school. You wonder how she tricked you, coerced you into becoming her friend despite the dark depths she held so closely to her heart.

And then, you understand she hadn’t hidden this from you at all.

Until now, you hadn’t seen her as alpha.

“I love you,” Shoko tells you earnestly, brushing away the tears cascading down your face. Then her voice hardens, and she isn’t talking to you anymore.

“I make the first bite.”

Satoru and Suguru don’t argue. Why would they? To alphas, the pack leader’s word is law.

Her kiss is gentle. She’s slow and careful as she carefully glides her lips and tongue against your own. She’s careful of her teeth, savoring your shuddering mouth as she swallows your cries and pleas.

You hate how familiar her scent is. Shoko is the Earth that the mountain rests on, where the oceans rock. She was everything you’ve ever known, and yet there was so much left to uncover. You just didn’t think you could do that before losing yourself.

Someone tugs down at your pants. Your eyes widen, and your panic builds up all over again. Shoko hushes you. Her lips trail to the edge of your jaw.

“He just wants to taste. Don’t mind him.” She tells you as Satoru tugs your pants down your sluggish legs. His fingers itch with eagerness as he squeezes the plush of your thighs.

“Don’t worry.” Shoko continues as Satoru practically rips your panties apart. “We won’t knot you tonight. We know you aren’t ready for that.”

“Fuck.” Satoru groans as he spreads your legs. He leans down to nuzzle your pussy, nose bumping at your clit. “You smell even stronger down here. ‘Can never get enough of your scent, I just wanna drown in it.”

“Who’s the desperate one, now?” Suguru goads as his own fingers explore what’s underneath your shirt. He grabs a fistful of your chest before squeezing. Your back arches up from his movement. He smiles.

Satoru ignores him and buries his face completely into your pussy. His tongue flicks out, eagerly lapping up at your hole. His movements are oddly stilted, almost unsure, mostly driven by instinct rather than anything else. Of course, he wouldn’t have any real sexual experience. Unlike betas, alphas and omegas mate for life.

His eagerness largely makes up for his lack of technique. Within moments, your body responds to him, urged on by his touches even though your mind is clinging on to the last semblance of sanity you have left.

“I love it.” His voice is almost a sob, strangely broken and muffled as his tongue drives deeper into your hole, hoping to drink up the essence of you. “I love this. I love you. I love you so much. I’m so glad we have you again.” His hands reach up to keep your trembling thighs away from his face, opening up more of yourself to his eager mouth.

“Satoru.” You hated how heedy your voice sounded. Your core clenched at the intrusion of him tongue-fucking your sensitive pussy, muscles contracting like they wanted nothing more but to keep him inside and milk him for all he’s worth. Your eyes squeezed shut as he pulled out to nibble on your clit.

“Please–please don’t–I don’t think I can–”

“I know, baby.” He coos from somewhere underneath you. “It hurts, right? I can make it all better, I promise. Just let go, baby. You can do it, I know you can.”

Encouraged by Suguru playing with your tits and the constant pressure of Satoru right at your cunt, you can’t put it off any longer. Shoko licks a stripe across your neck, and you’re gushing all over Satoru’s face as your pussy cums over and over again. Fingers dig into your ass cheeks, keeping your hips from lifting up as Satoru wrings out every last drop you have. He doesn’t stop until you collapse, exhausted underneath the staggering weight of your orgasm.

With bleary eyes, you watch as he rises from your throbbing pussy. His lips are still shiny. He never breaks his gaze from you as he licks his lips, savoring each drop.

Suguru takes his place between your trembling thighs. There’s a hiss of a zipper. Your eyes get impossibly wider as his cock pops out from underneath his briefs. It’s already an angry, bright red.

You don’t fight this time, not when Shoko’s pheremones are already starting to drown you again. You watch as Suguru’s cock aligns itself to your battered pussy. The tip taps on your swollen clit as he rocks himself through your plush lips, once, twice, thrice, until his cock finds your hole.

You hate the way his eyes glaze over. He looks down at you with complete adoration.

“I love you.” He tells you. “I can’t wait until you love us, too.”

Shoko’s teeth find your neck at the same time he bottoms out. The pain of the claiming bite somehow overrides the fullness you feel as Suguru ruts into you over and over again, completely giving into instinct.

Her face is a mess of snot and tears. Before you can wipe them away, she’s jumping up, hands outstretched to examine your face. Warm palms cup your face with gentleness you cannot expect from a child. 

“Τραυματίας?” She calls with a scratchy voice. 

“I’m fine. I’m not hurt.” You respond, reaching up to rub calming circles into her wrists. “Όχι…Τραυματίας” 

Her question about injuries reminds you of the pain in your feet. You ran barefoot last night, too panicked to grab shoes, too panicked to think about anything. You were reduced to the thinking of your rodent-like ancestors, running away even if it didn’t make sense, even if you ran straight into a fire, run away. 

And now, you were definitely fucked. 

Naarya’s crying again. You coo her into your embrace, uncaring if she dampened your chitons. She crawls into your lap, as you gently pet her hair. Beside you, Pysus’ face remains dry and grim, but her eyes are shiny. When you reach out to offer her your hand, she’s quick to grab it, almost like it’s her only lifeline. 

When you go to move, something stops your legs from stretching out all the way. 

Chains. Glinting metal clung to your feet. You bent your foot forward, then backward. 

You reach down to touch it. It’s cool against your fingers. The chain did not budge. 

You were still here, however. Stuck with the Myrmidons, not with Agamemnon and his men. It meant you were either wrong about your place in the story or someone else had taken your place. 

Briseis was nowhere to be seen. 

You can always count on her to say the right things to Naarya, to make the scowl on Pysus’ face brighten. All four of you were trapped here, but she always made things a tiny bit better. She made the flame's burn hurt less. 

Agamemnon must have taken her when you fled, or he always had his sights on her. The method didn’t matter. She was gone now, you’d failed to escape, and the story had righted itself despite your collision. 

You still want to ask, even though you already know the answer. Naarya sniffles into your shoulder as you cradle her. You lean to Pysus. 

“Briseis?” You ask. “Where…?” 

Pysus’s head glances down. Her voice is shaky, and she refuses to look at you. 

“Νεκρός.” Her voice comes out muffled, but you hear her clearly. It’s one of the few words you recognize. 

“What?” For a moment, you forget they can’t understand English. 

“Pysus, what do you mean?” You demand, pushing on her shoulder. “What do you mean she’s dead?” 

Pysus does not answer, even as you continue to shake her, your voice growing more and more erratic. Naarya’s cries ring in your ears. 

Dead. She is dead. You clutch onto Naarya’s body. Pysus’ nails dig into your soft skin, but you hold on anyway. You should be screaming over the grief, but maybe your brain hasn’t gotten up yet. 

All you can think is that death doesn’t suit Briseis. 

~

With both the language barrier and the girl’s reluctance, you still don’t know the details of Briseis’ death. 

It happened shortly after Agamemnon’s men took her away. There was some type of attack. Numerous men died. A handful of women died, too.

Briseis was one of them. 

You just don’t understand why. You don’t remember any attack like this happening in the Iliad. It couldn’t have been you, could it? Your intrusions have been minimal at most, unless your mere existence alone was causing some kind of butterfly effect. 

But things have always been off; you noticed this ever since you came into this world. 

It’s as though the story was breaking somehow. 

You don’t know why you’re even wondering about this. It won’t change anything. Briseis was dead, and you didn’t know how to fix that. 

You wanted to at least see her body. You wanted to feel her hair one last time, see her beautiful face. Would they burn her, or was that just reserved for warriors? Would her body just be abandoned to the forest, left to rot? 

You wanted to see her, but you doubt Achilles would let you have such a luxury. 

You hadn’t seen the warrior at all today, something you were eternally grateful for. You can still remember the glint in his eyes as he stared down at you, hands poised, ready to strike. You thought he was going to kill you. 

You aren’t sure why he didn’t. 

You saw Patroclus once. 

It was a few hours after the girls left, when you were still coming to terms with her being gone. He came in when you were crying, curled up on the pelts because there was nowhere else to go. There was a gentle hand on your shoulder. You startle, before your eyes lock onto soft brown eyes. 

There’s no smile on his face. His face is solemn, completely blank. Out of the two men, you always thought Patroclus was the easiest to read. But maybe that wasn’t right. Achilles flares out like fire, constantly burning and boiling, but he wears his emotions right on his sleeve. Patroclus, with a softer tone, isn’t as vibrant, and maybe you read that as a clear, shallow river, instead of a murky lake. 

He doesn’t say anything, not that his words would matter. He simply set down the plate he held in his arms. He was serving you, a task beneath the warrior. You know this because it was you who used to serve him. 

He leaves in that same unreadable silence, and you haven’t seen him since. All his presence did was make you more anxious for the arrival of Achilles. 

He is an inevitable storm. You’d never escape him, especially not now with the chain that encircles your ankle. 

The chain links are thick. You can barely wrap your fingers around the width. And yet, it's as light as a feather. You can barely feel it when you’re still. 

But when you rise, when you make a move towards the tent entrance, it suddenly feels like a weight is dropped on top of you. It presses itself down on your chest, halting your movements. It becomes a struggle to even breathe. 

Clearly, it’s no ordinary chain. 

Your mind travels to Thetis. 

The mother of Achilles. The sea nymph. After he loses Briseis, Achilles goes to her in the Poem and asks her to make sure the Greeks start to lose against the Trojans, just so they know how much they need him. It couldn’t be too far off to consider that he might have asked for an extra gift. 

Briseis. Even when you try not to, your mind always comes back to her. 

Usually, whenever someone falls into a book they love, they try their best to change the bad outcome. They try to save everyone. 

You, however, just make things worse. Achilles is even madder than before, the girls have lost their protector, and Briseis is dead. All because of you and your cowardice. 

You lost Briseis, just as you lost Desmache. 

You always thought Desmache was the most similar to Naarya, but really, it’s Briseis and Desmache that share the most similarities. They were both girls who held the same curiosity in their eyes when they looked at you. They were both girls who tried to reach out to your heart and understand you. They were both girls who died for it. 

Desmache was the lesson, but Briseis was the true test. You failed both. 

The chain rattles as you bring your legs closer to your body, curling up so you can hide from the watchful skies. 

The funniest thought occurs to you. 

You never asked Briseis what her favorite flower was. 

You never asked Briseis if she liked lotuses more than carnations. You never asked her if she preferred bright hibiscus or mild touch-me-nots. You never asked if she enjoyed the smell of honeysuckles in the summer. 

You never asked Briseis what her favorite flower was, and you’ll never find out. 

~

He comes back, eventually. 

It was towards the evening. Candlelight became more and more prominent in the tent while the shadows grew. 

He’s usually loud when he walks. His armor clinks and jostles. His sword clangs next to his side. His cape makes some type of flutter. He’s dramatic with his entrances; you can almost always hear him coming from a mile away. 

Achilles enters the tent in silence. 

You knew it was coming. You always knew it. And yet, you feel your throat close up when he looks at you. Apart from the pleated chiton, he comes bare. There’s no sword or shield. 

He holds no weapon in his hands, just his lyre. 

There’s no anger on his face. He doesn’t hiss any hateful words towards you. He simply takes a seat next to you on top of the soft pelts. 

His thighs touch your own. You don’t move away. Instead, you watch him play. 

He plucks one string. Then another. 

You recognize it. Not the song itself, but rather, the meaning. It’s a happy song, holding notes that depict bright, cloudless skies and wide Great Plains. 

You can hear the low tones of a mother as she plays with her children. Her youngest son is the easiest to find. She manages to find him under a flowering bush with bright pink flowers. Her second youngest crouches behind the hut, smiling widely as her mother continues to look for her. She squeals in delight when her mother reaches out to grab her. 

It’s the oldest that always gave her the most trouble. He always picks the places she could not think of. They find him eventually. He hid behind his father, who kept absolutely still so as not disturb the game. 

It’s a nice song, different from anything Achilles has ever played before. Maybe it’s because, this time, he is not playing for himself. 

The song ends. The laughing family disappears, as do the rolling plains. You blink, and you’re back in the tent, shackled by your captor. 

Achilles places the lyre down, leaving it propped up by his feet. You suddenly realize he hasn’t looked at you since he entered. 

“Γιατί έφυγες τρέχοντας μακριά μου?” His voice is feather-light. You never knew he could speak so softly. “Δεν ήμουν ευγενικός μαζί σου?” Μήπως σου φέρθηκα άδικα?” 

“I’m sorry.” You can only say. 

He responds with nothing because there is nothing to say. Instead, Achilles leans over. He rests your head on your shoulder. His golden hair brushes against your neck, tickling your cheek. His scent isn’t tainted by the blood and the death he craves so much. He smells like the rolling sea, like the waves that crash into rocks, like the breeze that gently kisses the shore. 

He lightly reaches down to your ankle, where your chains remain. Achilles slightly lifts the chains up before dropping them back. 

“Δεν είχα άλλη επιλογή. Θα προτιμούσα να πεθάνω παρά να ζήσω για να σε δω να φεύγεις.” 

A part of you genuinely wants to know what he’s saying. 

The other part just wants to hear him play again. 

~

You think you hate the smell of cardamom. 

Its scent only reminds you of Desmache and that hut you spent a few leisure weeks in. Any time you smell it now, you’re only reminded of the loss you had. The loss you continue to have every day since that massecre. 

The dynamics of camp change. 

You expected it. Briseis’ vibrant energy kept you grounded in a way. Now that she was gone, you finally realized how gray and uncolored this world was. It’s colder now, too.

(It makes you think she’d like speedwell flowers the most. Their presence in the forest is tiny, but you can feel their disappearance.) 

Her disappearance hasn't faded away. It’s a hole within the story, one you keep stumbling over time and time again. 

When Achilles deems it, the chain lengthens, and you’re able to traverse a small boundary. He must not think you’re sick anymore because you’re given chores again. This time, instead of resenting the work, you embrace it. It’s the only thing that distracts you from the hole. 

You work outside the tent, but not often. The looks the soldiers give you have changed. Usually, they wouldn’t look at you at all, or you would see terror gleam through their eyes. Today, the tiny glimpses they do give you are angry.

(There are fewer ships in the ocean.) 

Pysus has also pulled away, to an extent. She greets you, she smiles at you, but there’s this barrier you’ve never felt before. She’s farther away now. You think it’s because of the loss of Briseis. 

If she blamed you, you wouldn’t blame her. 

Naarya is one of the few who remain the same with you. She’s even more clingier than before, and it makes sense. Briseis was like a mother to her, soft and kind and gentle. Now, she’s finding comfort wherever she can. 

“Έχετε βελτιωθεί!” Naarya tells you as you hand her yet another finished pleated cloth. They wilted next to her own, but you have to agree with her. You were steadily getting better. 

“It’s the only thing I did for weeks.” You tell her. “It makes sense I’d improve.” 

“Μίλα ελληνικά, σε παρακαλώ.” Naarya reminds you because she doesn’t know what English is. 

“καλύτερα…πανί…φτιάχνω.” You’re cut off by her laugh. 

No, you agree, your Greek is terrible. You have to smile alongside her. 

Your eyes catch movement just then. Another soldier walks by. Your gaze shifts back to Naarya because you don’t recognise him at first. 

And then, the world freezes. 

Naarya stops laughing. She’s asking you what’s wrong, but you can’t answer her. You can only stare as he continues to get further and further away. 

He’s the one who killed Desmache. 

You remember it so clearly. She, twitching on the floor, convulsing because the spear broke her back. Her wide eyes refuse to leave yours. The way her breaths grew weaker and weaker as you held tightly onto her hand.

You’re rising before you even realize it. You take one step, then another. The chains weigh on your legs. Something starts to crush your chest but you don’t care. 

He turns to face you just as you lunge. 

Someone stops you. Then another. Men are shouting and yelling, Naarya is crying, but they’re all drowned out by the blood pumping in your ears. Someone grabs your shoulders, pushing you down. Your knees fall against the dirt. You don’t realize you’ve been screaming until your voice grows hoarse. 

He clearly remembers you. You can see it within his eyes. 

He just doesn’t remember what he did to her. 

“I’ll fucking kill you.” You repeat over and over as the crowd grows more panicked. “I’ll fucking kill you.” 

You never break eye-contact with him, even as you’re picked up by a nameless soldier and dragged back to the tent of Achilles. You memorise everything about him: his clothes, his hair, his eyes. 

The soldiers are yelling over each other as you’re thrown onto the pelts all over again. The chain tightens in response, rendering you immobile. You see Naarya amongst them, trying to push through the crowd, trying to get to you but it doesn’t snap you out of it. Nothing does, not even when the soldiers leave, or when Naarya’s terrified voice dies down. 

You’ve woken up. The reality is hitting you once again. You can still feel the warm blood of Desmache on your hands, even though you begged her not to go. And then, you were captured and taken by men who see women as nothing more than cattle. Achilles was a murderer. He was a murderer and a killer who gladly drenched himself in the blood of his rivals all in the name of glory. And yet, you sympathised with a murderer– a rapist. Patroclus who smiled down at you so nicely was also just as monstrous. You were the one who killed Briseis. Her blood caked your skin just as much as Desmache’s. 

You’re stumbling throughout the tent as the voices of you grow louder and louder. You’d do anything to make it stop, anything to make the pain go away. Your hands reach for the candle still flickering with a flame—

"I wouldn't do that if I were you." A voice warns. "Burnt hair smells horrible." 

Your soul crashes back into your body. Your fingers pull back from the candle. 

He’s smiling at you, sitting across the pelts, his chin resting on his arm. You don’t recognise him, but you know him. A blindfold covers his eyes, but you can tell he’s looking at you. The winged helmet sits perfectly on top of his head. His tunic looked to be made of soft silk, something a mortal would never even dream of wearing on the battlefield. 

“You—“ Your voice dies. He takes it in stride. 

“Yeah, I know.” Hermes flips his air dramatically. “Most are stunned by my presence. It’s a curse more than a blessing.” 

It’s emotional whiplash. You felt so much just a few seconds earlier, but now you’re completely blank. Your mind is still playing catch-up, so you manage to blurt out the first thing you can think of. 

“You know English?” 

The God laughs at that. "I'm the God of language." He grins. "I know all the languages humanity has and will ever create: Past, Present, and Future." 

And then he scrutinises you. “Well, I don’t think we can call you a time-traveler, now, can we? It’s more like you came from another world.” 

“Yes!” You lean forward because this is the first time anyone has ever acknowledged it. “I—I am! How? How did you—I’m sorry.” You draw back. “It’s—It’s just been so long since I’ve actually talked to someone without having to mime, or—or—“ 

“I get it.” Hermes cuts you off. He leans back against the pelts, stretching himself out. “Man, these are really soft! Do you sleep on these every day? Lucky.” 

You know Gods exist in this world, but you hadn’t expected to meet one so quickly. Moreover, you hadn’t expected your first meeting to go like…this. 

“How do you know I’m from another world?” You ask. Your cheeks feel damp. You wipe the moisture away. Have you been crying? 

“I’m a God.” Comes his answer. 

“Does that mean the other Gods know too?” You press. 

“I wouldn’t mention the other Gods, if I were you.” He chides you. “They’re still pretty pissed at you for the whole ‘faking being Persephone’s daughter’ thing. But I got most of ‘em off your back.” 

“The Gods are upset at me—“ Wait, did he just say people thought you were Persephone’s daughter? 

“But—but I thought everyone assumed I was Aphrodite’s daughter?” You weakly argue. 

“C’mon!” He laughs. “Do you really think people would treat you the same if they thought you were her kid? You’d be gonzo.” 

You feel like an idiot. Of course, that made sense. Everyone feared you not because of Aphrodite, but because you were associated with the Goddess of Spring and the Underworld. 

And that raised more concerns. You know enough about Persephone to realize it's a bad thing to be associated with her. If you were worried about Aphrodite’s wrath on your impersonation, you would highly doubt Persephone would give you a garland of flowers. 

Speaking of flowers. 

“That was you, right?” You ask him. “You left that crocus flower for me.” 

“Ding ding.” Hermes chirps. 

“But why?” 

He flips himself on his stomach to stare at you. The blindfold still obscures his face, so you don’t know where to look. 

“You’re kind of a mess,” Hermes finally says. “I mean, you’ve only been here for a few months, and you’ve already managed to derail pretty much everything..” 

You wilt at his words and he only laughs. 

“But I’m also impressed.” He continues. “You’re the only one who’s made it this far.” 

You squint at his words. What did he say? 

“Still, it’s definitely not ok with how much you’re changing just by existing. Some key people were killed off.”

You think of Briseis and your eyes flutter down. 

“Not just her, actually.” Hermes interjects your moping. “Agamemnon, Diomede, even the Lesser Ajax all went down yesterday.” 

“Wait, what?” You never heard of this happening. You only knew of Briseis’ passing. 

“Yeah, it’s pretty bad.” Hermes laughs, absolutely thrilled by the mention of bloodshed. “The Greeks are supposed to be losing, but they’re not supposed to be losing this badly. It’s honestly really impressive you’re able to kill off all these characters like that. Not even the war-mongering one did this much damage.” 

He talks past you and you absolutely hate it. Despite speaking the same language you do, you can’t catch on to a word he says. 

“You already know I don’t belong here, right? In this world?” You press. “How can I get back to my own world?” 

The question you’d always wanted to ask ever since you got here. Hermes barely wastes a second. 

“Oh, you can’t.” 

Your heart drops.

 “What?” No no no. “What do you mean ‘I can’t’” 

He shrugs, clearly not paying attention to your growing panic. “You can’t leave, not when everything is broken. Ripped out pages. Words burned off the page. It’s all a complete mess and it’d take a lot to fix..” 

No, this can’t be happening. You’d deluded yourself into thinking if you could just talk to a God, you could figure out how to escape. All that plan accomplished was proving how futile escape is. 

You suddenly process Hermes’ words. His smile only grows wider as the silence continues to grow. 

“Why are you talking like this world is a book?” You ask. 

He lifts himself off the pelts. You stay absolutely still as he moves closer, until your noses nearly touch. 

“Why are you?” 

A switch flips. You jerk back, and Hermes laughs again. 

“Well, this has been fun, but we’re running out of time.” He makes a face, before brightening up again.”But, since you’ve been so entertaining I’ve decided to give you two gifts.” 

You give a blank stare. He ignores it. 

“The first—“ He reaches out with his fingers. You receive a harsh flick on your forehead. 

You scuttle back, clutching your head. “Ow! What the—“

”—And second.” You crack your eyes open to see what he was holding. 

A small glass vial. It could fit perfectly within your palm. It carried a purple liquid that shimmered when it caught the light.

“This.” Hermes answers before you can even ask. His voice has simmered, but you could almost taste the glee that still resounds within his tone. “Pretty effective, in my opinion. All your victim has to do is drink it and—poof—off they go to the underworld with the others.” 

He leans closer, you can feel his breath on your cheek. 

“That little soldier you aren’t a fan of.” He murmurs into your ear. “Don’t you wanna fulfill that promise to him?” 

You clutch the bottle. It’s heavy underneath your fingers. 

“Poison?” You ask. He just grins wider. 

“Let’s hope you make the right choice with that,” he cheerily chirps. “Well, ‘gotta go! See you later, maybe.” 

“What?” You panic. He can’t go now. You have too many questions. “Wait, please just—“ 

“Toodles!” He disappears and you grab onto air. 

You’re alone, again. For a half-second you wonder if you just hallucinated. It would make sense, considering the mental breakdown you just had. 

Speaking of, what even was that? You’d never felt something like that before. Was it a panic attack? You looked down at your fingers. Earlier, they were erratic and shaking. Now, your entire body is calmer than ever. 

You woke up. You distinctly remember thinking that. 

The vial remains solid on your fingers. It’s the sole proof you had that he wasn’t a hallucination, but the things Hermes said left you more questions than answers. He knew things you hadn’t expected him to, and he seems to be aware this world is a story in your world. 

He said you were the first one who got this far. 

Your head hurts. It’s like your energy was zapped away all at once. 

You can’t rest. Not when Achilles is around. 

He comes through the tent like a storm, with Naarya and Patroclus by his side. There’s anger burned yet again through his eyes. He must have already heard what happened. You wanted to tune his shoutings out like you usually did, but then he spoke and–

–”Tell me what happened with those men.” Achilles demands. “A skirmish occurred with what was mine and yet I was not told immediately?” 

“I am filled with apologies, My Lord!” Naarya cries. “But I am unable to tell what occurred! She had risen so fiercely I was unable to restrain her as she lunged for those men with such vengeance! I had never seen such behavior come from her being.” 

“Perhaps the group of men said such an insult which she could not digest.” Patroclus comes through, ever the placater as you read him to be. “We should call them and ask their thoughts.” 

They continue to bicker amongst themselves, trying to piece together the story they only knew fragments of. You wonder if they always did this, stating theories out of feeble observations. You watch them for minutes before your mouth catches up with your brain. 

“Are…are you guys speaking English right now?” 

They all freeze. Three pairs of eyes turn to look at you. You suddenly realize how stupid that statement was. They weren’t speaking English. 

You were speaking Greek. 

You reach up, feeling your lips. Your words, your thoughts all feel the same, yet somehow, they all have changed. 

Hermes promised you two gifts, didn’t he? 

“You…you spoke so clearly. As a native would.” Patroclus breaks the silence. “Do you understand the words we speak?” 

You nod. 

“I can understand you.” 

Naarya reacts second. 

She squeals so loudly it nearly ruptures your eardrums. The girl bounds up to you with a glee only a kid her age could have. Her eyes sparkle as she reaches for your cheeks. You wince as she squishes them. 

“A miracle!” She speaks, pressing into you, her initial hysteria forgotten.“A miracle of the gods! Can you really speak our language now? Say something! Speak!” 

“Uh, hello?” You try. “Naarya, could you please stop pinching me? It hurts–”

Another squeal, but it hurts even more because she’s right in your face. She blabbers even faster, voice going up octaves. 

For whatever reason, your eyes drift to the two men, searching. 

Achilles is gone, only Patroclus remains. You don’t know how to feel about that. 

Naarya is urging you off your feet alongside her. 

“We must hurry! Pysus would be so pleased with this revelation! As would Briseis–” Her excitement wanes. You almost wished she was back to hurting you. 

You pat your cheek, trying to distract her. She returns your smile, but it’s stiff. 

“Who gave you such a gift?” Patroclus wonders. 

You hesitate, unsure if you should reveal your secret so soon. Unconsciously, you find yourself squeezing the vial hidden inside your fist. 

Naarya is more than happy to suggest her own theories. 

“Does it come from your Mother-God?” She wonders. 

It’s not lying if you don’t give a verbal answer, right? You smile, and Naarya is more than happy to accept. You don’t look up to see Patroclus’ reaction. You already know he won’t believe you. 

Much to your relief, he doesn’t comment on your obvious deceit. Instead, he is silent as he watches you interact with Naarya. 

Her gaze softens, as does her touch. She pats your shoulder expectantly. 

“Will you answer me, then?” She asks. “Earlier, when we loomed the cloth needed for prayer, to whom did you show so much anger to?” 

You remember the scene clearly now. That warrior was in a group of Myrmidons. To an outsider, it must have looked like you were trying to attack an entire fleet of men. 

She’s clutching at your clothes. “I had never seen such behavior from your body. It frightened me.” 

You were screaming, no wonder she’s so freaked out. You patted her back, bringing her in for a hug. 

“I’m sorry.” You tell her, as sincerely as you can. “I didn’t mean to scare you. That won’t happen again.” 

That strange influx of feeling. The rage and dissonance you felt. That couldn’t happen again; you’d make sure of it. 

She’s relieved. Children like her are satisfied with a few answers. She leaves the tent with a final glance at you. You wave to her, and then she’s gone. 

You can’t ignore him now. 

You try to. You pick at the pelts, looking for invisible lint. You study your nails and fingers, wondering if the calluses you saw were always there. You know he plans to ask you how you really broke the language barrier. 

“I am sorry on behalf of Lord Achilles.” Patroclus starts. 

You glance up. His brown eyes are crinkled slightly. A ghost of a smile lingers on his lips. 

“You must forgive the way in which he fled.” Patroclus says, “He has suffered through much these past days and nights. Learning of your fluency was perhaps too much for him to bear.” 

“I understand,” You say with a soft voice. 

You’ve known Patroclus—this Patroclus—for months, and yet you feel like you’re looking at him for the first time. His armour is off, tossed away in some unspoken corner. His beige chiton hangs on his body on only one shoulder. It barely covers the muscles across his chest and arms and legs. Your eyes catch a piece of jewellery you hadn’t noticed before. A necklace draped across his skin. It glints with gold. 

“Who gave you that?” You ask. 

Patroclus reaches up, brushing his hand over the gold. His eyes glimmer, catching light like stars in the night sky at some unspoken memory. 

“My father.” He responds, adoration warm in his voice. “It was gifted to me before I sailed from Opus to Phitia, where King Peleus rules.” 

You hum, and a part of you wants to ask what Opus looks like but you hold your tongue. Instead, you smile. 

“It’s pretty.” You tell him. 

He eases at your compliment. You watch as Patroclus walks closer and sits right beside you on the pelts. He maintains his distance, but he’s close enough to touch if you reach out. Neither of you does. 

“I’m sorry.” You finally breathe out, feeling the elephant grow and grow. “For trying to run. I wasn’t….” 

In another time, it would be silly to even think about apologizing to your captors, but here, it feels expected of you especially when just your blunder ruined so much. 

“Are you upset?” You ask. 

You can’t remember a single time Patroclus had gotten upset. He’s always been gentle, matching his epithet perfectly. The closest you’d ever seen him truly angry, was the darkened look he had as he gave you food, when you had been chained to the tent. 

He hums at the question, and you don’t fight him when he takes your hand in his. His fingers are so much longer and larger than yours. His hold eclipses your hands immediately. 

“I remembered the sorrow when it was revealed of your escape. And then I remember the relief that consumed me when you were brought back.” He squeezes your hand in his. “I felt anger, then, yes, but I felt my emotions to be more vibrant than that. And yet, my feelings are shadowed by those that haunt Lord Achilles.” 

You look up at him. He tilts his head, surveying your expression with an affectionate smile. 

“You do not realize how much the man sacrificed for you.” He tells you. “I sometimes wonder if I could sacrifice such a thing.” 

Your eyebrows pinch together as he continues. 

“Lord Agamemnon asked for you when Dear Chryseis was to be returned back to Chryses for ransom. Achilles had refused his demand.” Patroclus turns away, staring off into space. “I remember being amongst the crowd of warriors and watching as Achilles reached for his sword he kept on his hip. And then he stopped.” 

Patroclus’ smile fades slightly. “It was then when Lord Achilles offered Briseis as well as five of his beloved ships.” 

You almost don’t believe his words. 

”What?” 

He pats your hand. His skin is warm and strong, filled with the callouses of being a warrior and fighting for his own glory. 

Glory and pride is what Achilles holds more than anything. 

And yet, he gave up five ships to keep you? 

“His heart has been severely wounded.” Patroclus says with kindness. 

“I pray you do not fault him for his humanity.” 

The more you study the vial, the more colors you see. 

There’s a hint of blue; maybe a touch of magenta. When you shake the glass, the colors swirl together, creating that purple gradient. It looked more like a sleep potion than a poison. 

You flip it upside down, then right up again. Back and forth. It’s mesmerizing. 

Hermes gave this to you so you could kill that warrior. His face is still burned into your skull. You can feel that rage that still simmers deep within your rage. 

He can’t be left to live. Not after what he did do Desmache. 

She wasn’t even given a burial. 

A part of you slugs behind. You were talking about killing a man. How could you even speak about doing something like this? Regardless of how evil this person was, how could you kill a real person? 

But…he isn’t real, is he? 

You catch yourself then. You got that same feeling when you freaked out and collapsed in yourself. It’s pain. Real, tangible pain. And it was all because of that man. 

But, why don’t you feel that way towards Achilles? He kidnapped you and forced you to be his captive. Why don’t you feel that way about Patroclus? He’s just as terrible, in that regard. So many traumatizing things have happened to you and yet you don’t seem to be affected by them at all. 

You aren’t having the reactions a normal person should have. It’s like, your emotions have been stunted somehow, refusing to be any more dynamic than someone who was merely reading a book. 

Footsteps. You tuck away the vial just as Achilles comes through the tent. 

He’s regained his prior composure. His signature scowl is back on his face, and he’s glaring at you. 

You don’t move. His face continues to sour. 

“Now that you have learned our tongue, you must greet those of higher class than you accordingly.” He demands. 

That was a thing you had to do? You never saw the girls do that. Still, you better appease him. You hesitantly rose from the bed. You gave a weak bow with your head. 

“...Greetings?” You finish. It sounds weak even to your own ears. 

Achilles remains unimpressed.

“You talk so ugly and crude,” He tells you, “I rather the days where you remained mute.” 

You can’t help it. You laugh. 

You can’t remember the last time you laughed this hard. It shakes your shoulders, making you lose your breath. Somehow it lightens your heart. The air smells a tiny bit sweeter. 

At his face, you give: “Sorry, I just…I always knew you were insulting me. Hearing it…” Your voice trails off. 

The warrior studies you, eyes searching. He doesn’t seem as angry as you thought he’d be over your laughter. 

“Why has your hair lost the color of florals?” He demands. 

You glance at your hair. You refrain the urge to touch them. You sit back down, forgetting where you were, who you were with. 

It all felt so pointless now. 

“I’ve been here for too long,” You answer. 

It’s true. Your hair was only meant to last for a month, maybe two if you were lucky. By now, you think you might’ve switched to blue, or maybe a more neutral color. 

In just another week your roots will start to show. That would truly be the end. 

He doesn’t like that answer, you can tell by the way his jaw tightens. 

“I’m not sick,” Maybe you’re trying to comfort. “But it’s fading because I need to go back.” 

But you never will. 

He doesn’t sit next to you. Instead, he kneels, knees hitting the tent floor so he can stare up at you. It’s out of character. The Achilles of the Iliad wouldn’t do anything like this. He would never willingly lower himself for another. 

This Achilles reaches out. You feel warm fingertips brush against your cheeks. 

“You are aware I would never allow an action, correct?” 

You feel like laughing again. 

“I don’t think that’s up to me or you.” 

You never really had a choice, that was the real joke here. All this time you worried about these characters and their behaviors as though you had any more autonomy over yourself than they did. 

You’d never see your friends and family again. You’d never have slow mornings where you would scroll aimlessly on your phone. 

You’d never have the little things again—like coffee. 

You don’t know why that’s the last thought you have, but you’re crying anyway. They’re slow, silent sobs–the ones that make your throat clamp up and your eyes red. It shakes your shoulders, 

He’s brushing away your tears. You think it might be the softest way he’s ever touched you. It mimics the way he touches flowers as he ever so slightly grazes fingers over petals. 

“Patroclus told me of your reasonings to flee.” Achilles starts.

You stare down at him. His eyes have melted, simmered into bubbling honey. 

“You are a fool to think I would give up such a value to such a man.” 

You don’t understand why he tells you that, but maybe you don’t have to. This is how a man like Achilles loves. It’s ruthless and possessive and violent. He can’t love any other way. This was what he was created for. 

His character was meant to be fierce and raging. Even if he wanted to, he’d never know anything different. His love is brash and comes out in spurts like: giving up five beautiful ships, or tying you down with immortal chains. 

This is what he was made for. This is all that he’ll ever be. 

He’s lived in this book-shaped prison his entire life.

You don’t know who to feel more pity for: 

 him, who’s only lived in these pages,

 or you—who knows what’s outside the script but can never return. 

Status quo returns eventually. 

The chains come off sometime in the next few days. You are let off the hook to work alongside the women. Days pass and things become more or less the same as before. Achilles is still an ass but he’s a bit less of an ass. Patroclus was always the aloe to his burn. Naarya became more talkative as the days went on. 

Pysus remained distant. 

You don’t fault her. Grief comes to people in many ways. This is how she deals with it. Quieter. Less jokes, Less smiles. You try not to notice how she barely glances at you these days. 

You haven’t done anything with the vial yet. It remains tucked deep inside your chiton, burning against your skin each time you remember it. You haven’t had the chance to do anything with it, yet. 

Rather, you have no idea what to do with it. 

It was supposed to be for that warrior, but you still hesitate from time to time. It’s not because of your hesitance to kill, but rather, you weren’t sure if you’d come out of the aftermath unscathed. 

(Sometimes, you see him around camp. You know his name now as well as who he likes to spend time with. You’ve never hated anyone’s laughter more.) 

Sometimes, you wonder if you could just ask Achilles to do it. How would he react if you told him you wanted one of his men dead? 

You could never bring yourself too, if only because you were fearful of the backlash. He’s sacrificed people in the name of your ‘supposed Mother-God’, but could you ask him to do the same to his fellow warrior? All for the sake of your vengeance? 

Speaking of Persephone, that’s another can of worms you‘d have to open soon. 

Unknowingly or not, you have been parading around as her child. You’ve seen how terrifying other Gods can be when they think they’ve been insulted, but the Queen of the Underworld herself? It’s a miracle the ground hasn’t opened to swallow you whole, yet. 

Somehow, you managed to summon Hermes. Maybe there’s a chance you could do the same for her. 

And then, what? Just kindly explain that it was a case of mistaken identity? 

“See here!” Naarya gleefully tells you, holding up the cloth she weaved. 

You admire the gorgeous patterning. “Amazing! Did you come up with the pattern yourself?” 

Pysus only glanced up from her weaving to send Naarya a quick smile. Naarya basks in the praise. 

“Yes.” She beams. “I hope to ask Lord Patroclus if this can be offered to Goddess Athena with bright eyes.” 

“I’m sure he’d say yes.” You nod along and Naarya babbles happily. 

She doesn’t notice when Pysus rises with her own cloth. You watch as the girl disappears behind the tents. You wait for five minutes before you abandon your own project to follow. 

You find her in a small clearing, further away from camp. She sits next to a dying fire. The smell of smoke lingers in the air. 

“You look tired.” You offer your hand. “You can go rest, if you want. I can finish up your work.” 

She doesn’t even glance up. “Your tenderness pleases me,” she tells you, “and yet I cannot abandon my duties.” 

“It’s not abandoning.” You reason. “I…I know you’ve been having a hard time. I can help–” 

“Is this how you give penance?” 

Pysus always struck you as quiet, with a soft voice. She was gentle and sweet. 

You’ve never heard her say something with such venom before. 

“No.” You immediately rebuke. “No, of course not. Pysus–” 

“I see, so it is not guilt that you continue to seek me out.” Her voice hardens. “It is not that you wish for me to assuage your despair with my assurances. Then what do you continue to pester me for?” 

You can only stare as she rises up to her feet. The cloth she worked so hard on for days is left abandoned on the dirt but she can hardly care. 

Her eyes parallel crashing waves of the sea, and yet, they look so fragile, like thin waterlilies. Her eyes are more green than blue. You don’t know why it took you so long to notice. 

“Briseis called for me when she was taken away by men of Lord Agamemnon,” she tells you, “she begged me to assure your safety. Even as men with bronze armor led her away, she only wept tears for you. Where were you as she was sent to her deathbed?” 

You can see it clearly in the back of your head. The grip the men had on Briseis in as they took her away from you. Her pretty green eyes, red and watery. You can see it so clearly, even though you weren’t there, even when you were–

(Maybe Briseis would like the fragrant freesia the most. Much like her, their scent is fresh in the air long after the petals have wilted.)

–”Gone.” Pysus spits out. “You fled and abandoned her when she needed your comfort the most.” 

Her voice cracks, but she isn’t stopping. Tears drip down her cheeks. It doesn’t stop her sharp words from cutting deep into your skin, straight into your heart. 

“She should not have had such a horrific fate. She stole such suffering from your thread.” 

She doesn’t mean it. You know her too well by now to know she isn’t being sincere. She’s angry. She’s grieving. She lost her sister. She needs a punching bag and you are all she has. 

But what lie did she tell you?

“You’re right.” You tell her because there’s nothing else to say. “I ran because I was a coward, and I’m sorry. Even if I thought…I shouldn’t have run.” Pysus is getting blurry. “I shouldn’t have abandoned you guys. I’m sorry. I'm so so sorry, Pysus.” 

Pysus’ arms are warm and strong against your back. It’s reflective, the way you cling onto her, uncaring if your tears dampen her shoulders. 

“Do not acknowledge my ridiculous claims!” She sobs into your shoulders. “Forgive me. I spoke such ill of you and villainized you in such a horrendous way. Forgive me.” 

She keeps saying sorry, but you keep telling her she has nothing to apologize for. She doesn’t listen, and neither do you. The two of you just cling onto each other. She’s so tiny against your fingers, she can’t be any bigger than Naarya. 

You’re speaking before you can even think. 

“I’ll bring her back.” 

She’s pulling away to peer up at you. Her eyes are like rippling pools. 

“What?” 

“Yes.” You nod and for once, your voice is clear and stable. “I’ll bring her back.” 

You leave her like that. She calls for you, but you aren’t listening. You don’t stop moving until you’re surrounded by the privacy of the tent. Completely alone. 

You take out the vial. It swirls with glittering purple and blues. 

You pray you weren’t wrong about this. 

It burns down your throat, and then your heart stops. 

There’s rapid tapping on your cheek. Your eyes flutter open. 

“I knew you’d figure it out!” Hermes cheers. “Took a bit longer than I thought you would, but I’ll still give credit.” 

You rise up from the hard floor. You’re not in the tent anymore. You hardly even think you’re on Earth. The cave is dark, only illuminated by torches stapled to the walls. The flames are a fiery pink, creating shadows and shrink and jump. 

The underworld looms ahead of you. 

“Couldn’t you have told me instead of being all cryptic?” You ask with a scowl. 

“I can’t just give you the answer!” He scolds. "Where's the fun in that?” 

If you had doubts he was a Greek God before, they were all gone now. 

Hermes struts off confidently ahead. You follow him. 

It reminds you of the catacombs under Paris, except more claustrophobic and more illuminated. Hermes leads you into a tunnel, then another, then another. Various passageways wind and fold against each other. You lose track of your mental map five minutes in. In the end, you’re forced to follow him with blind trust. 

“So, that wasn’t poison, right?” You confirm. “Then, what was it? Some kind of sleeping potion?” 

“More like a coma-inducing spell.” Hermes corrects. “It tricks your soul into thinking your body is dead, and that’s how I was able to transfer you down here.” He trails off like he expects you to congratulate him. 

You don’t. 

“Before,” you start. “You said that the book was broken, and it needed fixing.”

He said nothing. You continue. 

“Were you talking about the dead characters?” You ask and something breaks within you as you call Briseis a character. “That’s why you brought me here, right? If we can bring them back, that’ll fix the story.” And then, you could go home. 

He glances back at you. 

“Aren’t you being a little too confident?” There’s a teasing lilt in his voice.

“I’m willing to do anything.” You answer. “No matter how tiny of a chance I have, I want to try.” 

“That’s exactly what the others said too.” He muses. “It’s kinda funny how alike you all are.” 

“Others.” You repeat. “Are more people like me here, too?” 

“Yeah, loads.” He shrugs. “I stopped counting after the first hundred. It’s interesting how different their paths were. This one guy managed to usurp Agamemnon and took over the entire Achaean army. Uh, this other one tried to play both sides and it didn’t really end so well for him. Oh! One person actually managed to beat the Achaeans and flipped the entire war! That guy was my favorite.” 

“What happened to them? Did they return home?” 

“No.” He grins with teeth. “Not a single one.” 

The shadows across his face make it sound even more off-putting. He leads you into another tunnel. It’s even smaller than the last one. You can barely fit through without your shoulders brushing against the walls. 

“To get to the end, you have to make sure the story stays in place and you survive. Not many were able to achieve both. Readers derail a lot. They push Gods to act in ways they otherwise wouldn’t, or they create new problems all together. They always create a shitshow, but at least it’s entertaining.” Hermes studies you. 

“Then…why me?” You ask, and you suddenly realize that your voice echoes through the caves. “Why was I chosen to come here?” 

He loses it. He’s laughing so loudly, he clutches his stomach, nearly falling to the floor. You flinch at the mockery. 

“Sorry, you thought you were chosen?” He says when he’s finished, rising back up to sneer. “A little narcissistic, don’t you think?” 

“There was never a choice,” he tells you. “You read the story, and now you’re here. Simple as that.” 

“But what does that mean–” 

“I meant what I said last time.” He cuts you off. “You’re the only one who’s got this far. Out of all the people who’ve come here, you’re the only person who’s survived this long. Granted, it was mostly due to lots and lots of luck, but hey! Still a win in my book.” 

He grabs a torch from the cave wall. The tunnel was starting to open up. 

“Which means, you still have a chance to put everything back.” 

You think of Briseis: gone and dead. 

“Nothing’s been cemented, yet. Knowing those three, I bet they aren’t too keen on cutting the thread. So, if you can convince her to let those souls go, you might have a shot of re-righting the story.” 

You already know who he’s referring to. It makes you deflate. 

“Is that even possible?” You ask, voice small. “She must be furious with me, right now. What if she…” Kills you on the spot? Demands your soul as penance? 

Hermes smiles. 

“Do you have a choice?” 

Right. That’s the harsh lesson you keep learning over and over again. 

You never had a choice. In this place, you were nothing more than a character. 

The only power you had was knowing the script beforehand. 

Hermes stops walking. 

“The throne is right through there.” He gestures at the rest of the tunnel. “If you keep walking, you’ll find it. It’s kinda hard to miss.” 

When you stare at him, he continues. 

“Not a big fan of people down here. Everyone’s so depressing.” He complains. “Don’t worry, I’ll be waiting right here for emotional support.” He flashes a thumbs-up. 

A part of you wanted to beg him to come with you, but you know you won’t get far with that. That chance you kept begging the Gods for was finally being given to you. You’re taking it, no matter how small it is. 

“Thanks.” You tell him. “For getting me this far.” 

He just smiles. “Don’t thank me, yet.” 

You turn back to the cave. You take a step. Then another. You keep walking as the cave gets wider and wider and it spits you out into a large expansive room. It’s brighter than the cave, pink flames flickered and licked at the rocky walls. Gloomy shadows jump and flee at the sight of you. 

The rock is oddly smooth and damp beneath your feet. You walk along the surface, feeling the floor dip and bend in places. It mimics nature. 

You see them then. 

You expected more dramatics. Or maybe that’s yet another assumption you had for this world. They sit quietly together, side by side. They look human, but there’s something off about each of them. Their eyes are far too big for their face. Their fingers are thin and spindly as they move around the loom. Their skin is sickly, almost green. 

The Three Fates pay you no mind as you step forward, continuing on their project. You swallow, feeling your throat drying up. You were finally here, but now what? 

“Not many are bold enough to ignore me so brazenly.” 

The voice is feminine, dark with humor. Your eyes travel up and up the rock. 

Not a rock. A giant throne. 

She sits with one leg crossed over another. Her cruel smile shines on plush, painted lips. She’s easily the most beautiful woman you’ve ever seen. You feel your voice die in your throat the more you stare. Your eyes burn– no mortal should be gazing upon such beauty. Among the dread, she stands out like a rose in full bloom, daring to be plucked. 

Oh. 

That’s why so many assumed you belonged to her. 

Her hair sat in beautiful curls, draping over her neck and chest towards the edge of the throne. Strands spill out like the sea. 

The brightest pink you’ve ever seen. The exact same shade yours once was. 

~

You don’t know how long you stood like that.

Entranced–utterly captivated. 

There’s a subtle tilt of her head. Your body moves before you can think. 

You drop. Your knees hit the ground. It’s not a bow. It’s more like you are begging for mercy. 

She laughs. It’s soft and delicate. Pretty. You’ve never felt so cold before. 

So this is what it’s like catching the attention of a Goddess. 

“At the very least,” her voice is amused, light. You don’t know whether that’s good or bad. “You aren’t entirely foolish.” 

You don’t know that much about the Goddess. Her descent into the underworld is the only tale that comes to mind. In that story, she was depicted as sweet and frail. The loving daughter of the Goddess Demeter. 

The woman before you now cannot be described as any of those traits. 

There’s a sigh above you. She sounds impatient. 

“Speak now, mortal of faraway lands.” She speaks your name. Forgetting yourself, your eyes shoot up to look at her. 

She takes your stunned silence as the rightful question it was. “It would be strange not know your name. After all, your presence has shaken the mountain and heavens of Olympus.” Her lips quirk. “And you in particular have been so daring as to use my name.” 

You are trapped in a maze; each route leads you straight into the claws of the cat.

 The cloak of death pins you down to the ground. 

“I’m sorry.” Your forehead presses into the rough rock floor. “I’m so sorry. I–I never meant to–” 

“Enough.” Amusement vanished from her voice. She sounds bored again. “It appears your brazenness was your sole trait of redemption.” 

She doesn’t allow you to speak any further, beg any further. She continues onward like the force she was. Unrelenting. Continuous. 

“You are not here for pleasantries, are you? Come. Remain in your daring nature and coerce me into giving up what I rightfully own.” 

Of course, she knew why you were here. You wouldn’t be surprised if she could read your mind. Her knowledge of why you’ve come doesn’t make it easier to talk to her. It just makes everything that much harder. 

The ground is so cold, but you remain in your pliant position. She may have mentioned that she liked how bold you appeared to be,  but you know well enough how much of a warning that was. 

“The soldiers, the men who died. Briseis.” It’s hard not to crack at her name. “It was not their fate to die. They…they need to be brought back for the sake of the story.” 

She’s laughing. It startles you. She’s laughing so loudly it echoes off the caves. 

“Story?” She repeats. “What story do you speak of?” 

You blink. And then something clicks.  

She doesn’t know about the poem. 

Persephone either doesn’t notice your silence or takes it as something else. Nails drag themselves through rock as she lifts her hand up to examine perfectly manicured fingernails. 

“I do agree it is unwise to keep these souls at this time.” She sighs. “Yet, I have no true desire to relinquish them. You understand how undesirable it will be if mortals of the upper realm realize how easy it is to raise their dead.” 

She’s asking for a price. A trade. Your pockets are empty. You have nothing to offer that you haven’t given already. 

You clear your throat. The fates have yet to acknowledge you. They continue around their loom, stretching the thread. You wonder which one is Briseis. 

“I don’t have anything to give.” You admit, and her brow quirks. “I can only beg that you’ll listen.” 

“You admit defeat readily,” she says, “do people of your lands do the same?” 

You say nothing. It gets too much to look at her, so you pull your gaze down. 

Another sigh. 

“I accept.” 

What? Your head shoots up to look at her. 

“I cannot say I have not benefited from your presence in the mortal world.” She tells you. “The Myrmidons have pleased me with their meat and fresh fruit. I will consider that enough.” 

You almost can’t believe her words. The Goddess is actually accepting your audacious request. It feels almost like a joke. A trick. 

“You are lucky–” she sits up from her throne– “to have such loving allies. One in particular was quite vocal. Had they not, I highly doubt your own skills would be enough to get you this far.” 

The insult is scathing, but it doesn’t cut as deeply as it should. Your mind is still searching for who she could possibly be talking about. Who’d care for you enough to plead your case to the Goddess of Death?

You hadn’t noticed the shimmer of light surrounding her left ear until then. It’s a tiny orb that glows a bright pink. It hovers above her shoulder. It looks like a fairy, dancing and giggling in the Goddess’s ear. 

The smell of cardamom nearly makes your heart stop. 

Desmache—

“I will release the souls.” The Goddess says, “However, I will need one more thing in return.” 

You look at her and immediately understand what she wants from you. 

You want it too. 

You don’t respond. She grins more openly. 

“Then it is done.” 

She taps her fingers. The fates barely glance up from their weaving. A silk string is carefully coiled onto skeletal fingers before it is dipped into pink flames. The string shrivels into nothingness.

“You can continue the ritual in the land of the living.” The Goddess calls. “I have done all that I can.” 

You did it. Your legs feel like jelly. You can barely stand upright. You did it. You did it. 

“Thank you.” You breathe. 

She smiles. The venom is sweet on her lips. 

Hermes is still waiting. 

You expect more applause. More sarcasm. 

He’s quiet until you step closer. 

“I didn’t think you’d come back so soon.” He finally admits. “No, that’s a lie. I kinda’ expected you to never come back at all.” 

You didn’t expect it either. 

“I’m surprised she didn’t keep you with her.” Hermes continues. “You’re a lucky one.” 

Your laugh startles even you. 

You’re practically crying. Hunched over. Shoulders trembling. Your laughter bounces off the walls of the cavern, against the flickering lanterns. Hermes is silent even after your voice dwindles. You’re heaving. Maybe you were crying. 

“That’s what she said, too,” you say, not to him, not to anyone. “I’m lucky.” 

You were lucky to make friends with people who loved you and who you loved in return. You were lucky to have those you loved enough to pave the way for you so your trek up the mountain could be just a bit easier. 

You don’t think that’s so much of a bad thing. 

You walk past Hermes. He doesn’t follow. After a few steps, you stop too. 

“She mentioned something else, too.” You don’t turn back to face him. You’re almost afraid of what you’d see on his face. 

“She didn’t know.” Your heart feels like it’s in your throat. “She didn’t know she was in a book. I’m starting to think the other Gods don’t either.” 

All Persephone knew was that you came from a different place. It’s what all the characters knew. Hermes, just Hermes, was the only one who ever mentioned the story specifically. 

You steel yourself, slowly turning to face him. 

He’s not smiling. His face is still, and you hate that you can’t see his eyes. You’re not used to seeing him so monotone. It’s like he’s dropped the act. 

Or maybe he’s dropped his character. 

“Who are you?” You ask. 

He swallows. You catch a single tremor down his throat. 

He says nothing. It’s the only answer you need. 

~

The next time you open your eyes, you're surrounded by wailing. 

You sit up in Achilles’ bed. Immediately, Naarya is on you, clinging onto you like a Koala. She’s sobbing and blubbering something you can’t decipher. You had to stop doing this to the poor child. You might end up aging her 20 or so years because of your antics. 

There are others around you. Pysus stares at you with glimmering eyes. You wish you could explain things to her. Comfort her. Maybe another apology. Patroclus says something, perhaps pleads for another explanation. 

You can’t stop. There’s a script running through your head. Gentle words of Dread Persephone, only you can understand. 

You only have to search for a second before you find him. In the dim light of the tent, his eyes resemble the color of warm honey. His golden mane shines like a bright flag. 

A Myrmiddon who gave up five Myrmiddon ships for you. 

A man, characterized by pride, who unhesitatingly ripped his to shreds for you. 

You want to know if he will do it again. 

You know what his answer will be. 

He’s still screaming when the warriors continue to tie him down.

He’s crying. He’s begging his fellow warriors to release him. They ignore his begs. He then begs Achilles to release him. The man’s face is bare. His sword is firm in his grip as his men continue with the ritual. 

He looks different now. With his armor and spear gone, he resembles a scrawny man. The rope that binds his arms and legs barely gives as he continues to struggle. 

It’s a bit strange to think of it now, but before he almost resembled a monster. Once, he towered over you and a dying little girl. His spear was coated in the blood of innocence. 

Now, as you stand above him, he’s just a man. 

He sobs louder as Achilles lifts the sword. You briefly wonder if he had a family. A wife. Children. These thoughts mean nothing. The hatred you feel for him isn’t one you may have for a human. It’s not dynamic. It’s just as flat as the pages he exists on. 

To you, he’s just a character. 

Achilles brings the sword down. Everything stops. The crowd remains silent. 

Blood seeps into the Earth. 

It’s nearly dusk. The sun continues to dip further into the ocean. Soon, the only light you have will be the torch you hold–tiny orange flickering flames. 

You watch as Achilles lifts the corpse’s head to chop off a lock of hair. 

You remember he did this a couple of months ago. Offerings, he thought, the Goddess you stood for would like. Before, you would squeal and heave with disgust. 

Tonight, your thoughts are filled with royal green eyes flecked with gold. Eyes unfit for a corpse. 

You accept the lock Achilles presents to you. You drop it into the flames. 

Orange turns to fiery pink. 

You can hear Persephone laughing somewhere beneath you. This was what she wanted. Not a single soul to replace the 24 she would soon lose. 

It was your vengeance that she craved for. 

Pink flames light the pyre. You watch the corpse disappear as the fire gets higher and higher–appetized by flesh. 

You abandon the torch, letting it hit the sand and naturally smother out. You feel empty as you leave the flaming pyre, heading towards the sea of still bodies. 

Each one is laid on the sand. Eyes closed. Untwitching. Unmoving. Your eyes remain solely on her. She looks as though she could be sleeping. Despite the days that have passed since her departure, her body remains fresh and clean. Nothing is rotted or dissolved. 

As though even fate knew to keep her until you could come for her. 

You don’t know how long you sit with her. Watching. Waiting. 

Around you, the soldiers start to awaken. Corpses fill with life. Soldiers with life-ending injuries sit up as though they’d just woken up from a coma. 

You just continue to wait. 

Green with flecks of gold peer up at you. 

Her face is still like uncracked porcelain. 

She smiles. It’s so beautiful it breaks your heart. 

She speaks first. Her eyes crinkle. 

“Your hair,” she rasps, voice soft, almost a whisper. 

She reaches up, and you let her. She brushes over a single coil of hair. 

“It is the color of florals once again.” A crystal tear trickles down her face. 

You follow her gaze. Your hair, once dull and washed out, resembled the shade you once had all those months ago. No, it was even brighter than before. 

Dread Persephone’s final gift. 

You want to laugh. Even at death’s door, Briseis still only looks at you. 

You pet her cheek. Her eyes flutter at your touch. 

“What’s your favorite flower?” You wonder. 

She smiles, confused. 

“My favorite flower?” She echoes. You nod. 

“If I had to choose…it would be roses.” 

You actually laughed that time. It’s wet, the kind that sticks to your tongue. She smiles up at you. A hand reaches up to cradle your own. 

“That’s so…normal.” 

It’s not any of the flowers you thought of for her. 

She tilts her head. “Should I choose another?” She asks. 

And yet, you can’t think of another more perfect answer for her. 

The thought of it makes you laugh. Right. Of all the people to be enamored with you, you’re confident enough that Idia Shroud is not one of them. He shrinks away from you whenever you draw near, pale face contorted in disgust as he mutters for you to not show your face anywhere near him. Behind that floating tablet of his, that shaky voice turns haughty as he heaps insults at you for your lack of knowledge of this world and magic. The only reason you ever tolerated him was because of Ortho Shroud, and you were pretty sure the only reason he tolerated you was that Ortho liked you. 

“I’m not joking!” Ortho pouts, sitting up, and fixing you with the scariest glare he can muster. “If you marry my big brother, then you can be part of our family, and then we’ll be a happy family! Oh, but it’d be too much to jump into marriage, wouldn’t it? Big brother isn’t accustomed to talking to people at all, so I guess we have to slowly build up. I keep telling him that dating sims won’t cut it even as practice, but he says he’d rather die than actually talk to people—!”

Another marriage talk? You feel your throat dry. “Whoa, whoa, slow down, Ortho,” you laugh nervously. “I can’t marry Idia.”

He stops his ranting, blinking at you as if you’ve said the most confusing thing in the world. “Why not?”

For an android that has unlimited access to the internet, he’s sure naive to these kinds of things. Maybe it’s because such delicate interpersonal relationships require actual real-life experience? “Well, when people marry, it’s usually because they love each other.”

Ortho pouts at you again. “I know that!”

“Well then, you know that we can’t marry each other.” You grin wryly. “I mean, for starters, Idia would never love me. He can barely even look at me.”

“Barely looks at you?” Ortho gasps. “What are you talking about, [Y. Name]? My big brother is always looking after you! We’re always looking after you!”

With a wave of his hand, Ortho brings up multiple holographic screens. Your stomach churns as you scan what appears to be live feeds of surveillance cameras. One shows the broken-down rubble of your dorm, clearly focused on where your perch used to be. Multiple blacked-out screens labeled KITCHEN, BEDROOM, LIVING ROOM, STAIRS tell you exactly what they used to be for. Another one seems to be located in Epel’s dorm room and outside of Vil’s room. You feel your throat parch.

“Oh, silly me! Priority task added: Take down CCTVs in Pomefior ASAP. ” Ortho then laughs lightly. “I have to do that before Vil finds out that I set up cameras…” He gives you an apologetic look. “Sorry… it looks like we can’t play together tonight…” Ortho’s sweet voice is drowned out by the ringing, deafening your ears as you try to process what you’re seeing right now. Your entire life… livestreamed to someone that you barely knew. You don’t even want to think about what kind of things they must’ve seen you do, how vulnerable you get behind closed doors… Ortho– Ortho wouldn’t do this to you, right…?! And he wouldn’t do this for anyone else except…

“Ortho.” Your voice comes out shaky as you turn to his expectant eyes. “Did… Did your brother put you up to this?”

“Yes, he told me to do so a few months back.” Ortho nods cheerily, and despite the disgust embroiling your gut, the fact that Ortho was commanded to do all this brings you some sort of relief. How could you blame Ortho, who was only following the orders of his creator? “He checks up on you all the time, you know! It’s always on the display monitor!”

Ortho doesn’t know any better. He’s still naive when it comes to human interactions, how could he have known that recording every intimate detail of a person’s life was bad? Yeah, yeah. Sweet, sweet Ortho wouldn’t do something so abysmal.

“But I didn’t think it was enough, so I added this!” His hands, cold and of synthetic flesh, reach out behind your ear and pull on the fleshy lobe. You feel something… hard? metallic? under the flesh, and you furrow your brows when you don’t understand. Ortho laughs at the silly look on your face. 

“It’s a vital tracker that S.T.Y.X uses on prisoners!” He tells you cheerfully, as if it’s the most normal thing in the world. “Body temperature, blood pressure, heart rate, respiratory rate… The works! There’s also a GPS tracker so that I know where you are at all times!”

You feel the soft shell of your ear, growing weak when you feel that metal embedded underneath your skin. Someone… Ortho had cut your skin open and implanted you with a… a…

You feel dizzy. You want to get out of here.

“Why?” You rasp out. 

Ortho tilts his head, as if the answer was obvious. “What do you mean ‘why’? I told you, we’re gonna be family, aren’t we? I have to know everything about you!”  His yellow eyes narrow slyly, revealing his self-satisfaction. “Oops, that’s not right, is it?”

“I already know everything about you!”

You hear IDIA SHROUD groaning from within his room as you bang on his door for the millionth time that night. He’s been ignoring you punching, kicking, and screaming outside his door for the past ten minutes. But you have too much adrenaline and paranoia in you right now to even feel your fists throbbing after every hit, and you’ve only grown relentless in your attacks. 

“Fine, fine! Just shut up already!” Idia grumbles as he takes his headset off. This was why he liked watching you from afar. You weren’t all up in his space when you’ve got a screen separating you two, screaming his name with that pretty voice of yours. Without thinking of anything other than hoping you’d stop interrupting his peace, Idia opens the door and jumps back with a high-pitched screech when he’s face-to-face with you.

He had long basked in the comfort of just creeping on you behind a screen that he had absolutely forgotten what it was like to actually see you in person— cute, lovely, glaring… angry. He lets out another pathetic yelp when you jab an accusing finger at his face, and he jumps back like a startled cat. “Wh– What—?! D– Don’t come too close or I…”

You ignore his incoherent mumbling as you continue glaring at him. This was the man who invaded your privacy, built an android that invaded your privacy and cut your ear, and had every detail of your life filed in that stupid, expensive computer of his?! You would have rather that it was someone like Leona or Azul or anyone else that you could have reasoned that you were in no way capable of dealing with. But this guy…? You let your eyes roam over his room. Thrown wrappers, discarded clothes… The only things that actually seemed to be in order were his merch, manga, and his desktop table.

You fix your gaze on Idia again. God, you dealt with people like this in your world. Just not ones who had the audacity to install cameras in your fucking house!

“What is wrong with you?!” You grit through your teeth, inching towards him with narrowed eyes. “I heard from Ortho. I know you know that I heard from Ortho, since you have an apparent obsession with knowing everything that goes on in my life. Where do you get off recording me when I’m…! When I’m, ugh, fuck!” Sounding it out loud— that I’m at my most vulnerable, when I’m fucking naked, when I’m in my underwear— has a primal feeling crawling through your nerves and squeezes around your neck. “Why would you–! How could you—?!”

“D– Not– Eek, not too close…!” Idia slinks back from you, trying his best to maintain a certain distance from you. “It’s– It’s not like I’m doing anything wrong, I’m just– I’m just um, keeping tabs on you, yeah, yeah. It’s not, like, anything new to you or something.”

“I think cutting my ear open to implant some creepy tracker is new to me,” you hiss, tugging on your earlobe.

“T– To be fair, that’s not me, that’s Ortho,” Idia mutters frantically, shielding his face from your accusing glare as you inch another step closer. “Okay–! Okay! Partly my fault. I should’ve stopped it. But it’s not anything serious!”

“Have you seen me in my underwear.”

The tips of Idia’s flame hair burn bright red. “Senior. Answer me.”

“I, uh, look away.” 

“How can you look away if you don’t know that I’m in my underwear.”

“What are you getting mad at me for?” Idia complains, black lips scowling as he sulks like an indignant kid. “It’s not like I’m the worst of the bunch. Do you know how many times I’ve protected you? There are too many OPs spawncamping outside your home or normies who think friendmaxxing is the way to go, and there’s like, wayyyy too many people ganking you—”

“What, what are you talking about?!” Idia shuts up, seeming to have delved into some ramble that you can only comprehend half of, and quickly thinks that the frustrated look on your face is way too cute. Yeaaah, he might be picking all the wrong dialogue right now, but there are just some things that 2D pixels can’t beat. Like, what’s up with that super cute wrinkle in between your brows when you’re confused? Sure, his super-advanced CCTVs can capture every detail of your body, but it doesn’t beat seeing your faves up close. And speaking of super-advanced technology…

Seeing your frustration, India’s anxious expression twists into a sardonic smile as he thoroughly contemplates the situation. Sure, suddenly breathing the same air as you has thrown him off, but the novelty’s long worn off, and he’d be missing out on this super rare event if he didn’t make the most of it. “Wheehee, of course you don’t know what I’m talking about. What was I expecting of you?”

The sudden 180 twist in personality has you on your toes. Right. For all your acting tough right now, it doesn’t help that you’re face-to-face with a magic-user— and the Keeper of the Underworld at that. Maybe having a chip implanted in your ear or being watched 24/7 has you bravely blabbing your mouth off, but any of these men could kill you if they see fit. 

“What, suddenly too scared? Hee, and you were just trash-talking me like whatever just now. Did you suddenly realize whose room you’re in now?” Idia’s yellow eyes have a certain glee to them as he takes a seat on his gaming chair and watches you like a hawk. “You’re in my territory. Heeh, that was pretty cool.”

Does he know you can still hear him? “I’m offering you shelter out of the goodness of my heart, y’know? Ortho brought you here ‘cuz your shack’s wiped out, so the least you could do is show me some respect.”

You bite the inside of your cheek, looking away as your fists clench. Why was this loser power-tripping all of a sudden? But you’ve seen what destruction he was capable of when pissed, so you glare daggers at the floor as you force out a “... Sorry.”

“Whaaat was that? I can’t heeaaar you.” You can feel his gaze heating on the top of your hair as he chews on some sour candy, treating your humiliation like a show. “You gotta speak up.”

As you lift your head up, you think back to the previous houses. Sure, Ace liked to take embarrassing pictures of you, and Leona had you walking out of his room and into his den with a large mark on your neck, but none of them humiliated you in such a… demeaning manner. Yet here Idia was, proclaiming that his stalkerish tendencies were for your own protection and making you grovel. You could easily walk out of here, go back to Pomefiore…

“I’m sorry,” your voice comes out pathetic and small. “And… th– thank you for bringing me here and for giving me shelter.”

Sour worm hanging off his mouth, Idia’s face is one of surprise, as if he didn’t actually expect you to meet his demands. He stares at you like that for a few seconds, unblinking and disbelieving, before his creepy snickers quickly erupt into full-on cackling. You flush, in disbelief of even yourself, looking away from his mocking sneer as you stew in your embarrassment.

“Heehee. I– I didn’t think you’d actually stoop so low, I mean, the door is right there! You could’ve just walked out, and I know you were thinking that because you were basically staring at it but, hehe, wow!” Idia finishes the rest of the gummy worm as he leers at you. “Are you really that scared? Scared that some overleveled magician is gonna slice your head clean off with a spell?”

You rub your neck. You have come close to that. Nearly crumbled to dust. Drowned in ink. Almost succumbed to permanent hypnosis. Choked on poisonous mist. You suffered in the ER even long after the others were discharged. No one would blame you for acting on a little caution.

“No use denying it,” Idia croons. “I mean, like, you pretty much got the worst luck of the bunch. I’m actually surprised you haven’t died after dealing with seven overblots. You must have super high luck stat to not be dead in a ditch right now.”

“They don’t want to kill me,” you try to reason. With Idia or with yourself, you’re not sure.

He rolls his eyes. “Yeah, obvs. Can’t play a romance route if the character’s dead. But I’ve seen their dreams, read the reports. That doesn’t change the fact that they could have killed you. Almost killed you. I mean, I know I almost did. Overblot’s funny like that, huh? And even without the whole overblot biz, the average magician’s got at least fifty more levels on you. Although…” He looks at you thoughtfully. “I guess you would’ve learned that after sleeping around a bit, huh?”

Don’t phrase it like that. “... Are you gonna just make me stand here while you mock me?” You resentfully say. “Or can I finally leave?”

“Whoa, whoa, don’t spoil my fun, okay? I know you’re probably thinking: ‘wow, this loser’s suddenly got all mouthy just cuz we’re alone in his room.’ And you’re probably right. But this is the first time I’ve had you all to myself, you know? Outside the whole surveillance thing.” You feel shivers up your spine when you’re reminded of his perverted hobby. “Seeing you up close, you’re totally the one I’d go for in a VN.” The corner of his lips quirked up a bit. “And especially after seeing you bow your head… that’s like a real turn-on.”

He presses something on his desk, the screen emitting a bright blue until its laser lights are on you. “Make a whole turn for the scanner, okay? There’s something I’d like to see you in.”

“... Consider it payment for letting you sleep here ♪”

Gloomurai is typing…

Muscle Red: oya? you’re still online?

Muscle Red: when you logged off just a few hours ago, i had assumed it was because you were finally going to deal with that homework you were complaining about.

Gloomurai: ugh. don’t remind me 😑😑

Gloomurai: nono i just haaad to get this off my chest. cuz like. u would not believe what just happened

Muscle Red: i’m listening ~ ∠( ᐛ 」∠)_

Gloomurai: my main oshi. like the irl one. just barged into my room out of nowhere. and i was like totally freaked out..

Gloomurai: tbh im still freaked out right now,, but like theyre magicless and im basically op yanno. so i was playing a trick on em. freak em out a bit.

Gloomurai: omggg they’re so cute when they grovel a bit. and that look in their eyes when they try to hide that theyre scared... wtff. took everything just to not break character

Muscle Red: hm hmm… the dearest ones always seem more alluring when they submit. i’m happy to see you understand my tastes

Muscle Red: i was very offended when you called me a pervert! (`皿´＃)

Gloomurai: i thought i said sorry!!! 

Gloomurai: i honestly still think you are a pervert but ure on to something… my heart’s still beating… cant believe i got em to bow their head like that… or be in front of me at all.

Gloomurai: i was just content on just watching them from a distance 💀💀💀 i might actually get addicted

Muscle Red: (っ˘ω˘ς ) ahh young love truly is a blessing to witness! i’m happy for you, young gloomurai!!

Muscle Red: maybe i’ll fetch for my darling as well. you’ve made me quite envious!