scissorluv

“Aren’t you going to tell him?” you asked, voice light and teasing.

Geto didn’t look away from the mirror. He ran a wide-tooth comb slowly through a section of his long dark hair, de-tangling with careful strokes. “Nah. Let him suffer a little longer.”

You rolled onto your back, kicking your legs in the air with a soft laugh. The sheets were still warm from when he’d napped earlier, and you buried your face in his pillow for a second just to breathe him in. “You’re so mean. He’s been pacing around the quad like a lost puppy for days.”

Geto hummed, not disagreeing. He squeezed a small amount of leave-in conditioner into his palm, rubbing it between his hands before working it through the mid-lengths. Step two. His movements were precise, almost meditative. You loved watching him like this—completely in his own world, yet always aware of you in the room.

You rolled again, this time sideways, tangling yourself further in the blankets. Your tail swished across the duvet, knocking one of his neatly folded towels onto the floor. “Oops.”

He glanced over his shoulder, one eyebrow raised. “You’re going to mess up the bed I just made.”

“That’s the point,” you said sweetly, grinning wider. Your sharp canines flashed. “Makes it more fun when we mess it up later.”

Geto shook his head, but the corner of his mouth twitched. He went back to his routine, applying a smoothing serum next, fingers gliding through the lengths with practiced ease. The quiet between you felt comfortable, familiar. You had been doing this for months now—slipping into his room between classes, teasing him while he took care of his hair, stealing his hoodies and teleporting away before he could grab you back.

You watched him start step four, the deep conditioning mask. He sectioned his hair with clips, movements smooth and unhurried. The silence stretched pleasantly until you got bored of rolling around. With a playful glint in your eyes, you disappeared.

First your abdomen faded, then your limbs, until only your wide grin remained floating in the air above his bed for a few cheeky seconds. Then that vanished too.

Geto didn’t even flinch. He’d grown used to it.

A moment later your grin reappeared right behind him, floating near his left shoulder. Then your face followed, ears perked, followed quickly by the rest of you. You pressed against his back, arms sliding around his waist as you peeked over his shoulder into the mirror.

“Hi,” you purred, tail curling around his leg.

“You’re going to make me drop the mask,” he said, but he didn’t sound mad. His free hand came down to rest on your arm, thumb brushing your wrist.

You reached past him for the small ornate bottle you’d brought earlier. “I got you something from Wonderland. Special oil. The caterpillar said it works wonders on stubborn strands.” You uncorked it and poured a few drops onto your fingers. The scent was warm and slightly floral, with a hint of something magical that made the air shimmer faintly.

Geto watched you in the mirror as you reached up and started working the oil into the section of hair he hadn’t gotten to yet. Your fingers moved gently but firmly, massaging it from root to tip. Almost immediately the strands seemed to relax under your touch, settling smoother, almost leaning into your hand. A few loose pieces even curled lightly around your fingers, wrapping softly like they wanted to hold on.

You smiled wider, ears flicking. “See? They like me better than you.”

“They have good taste,” Geto murmured. He set down the conditioning brush and let you take over, leaning back slightly into your chest. Your tail flicked happily behind you, brushing against his thigh.

You continued the massage, working the oil through with both hands now. The long dark hair felt silky under your palms, still slightly damp from the earlier wash. Every time you stroked downward, more of it seemed to calm, the usual restless movement slowing until it draped peacefully over your hands. A thick lock curled affectionately around your wrist, holding gently.

Geto let out a slow breath, eyes half-lidded in the mirror. “That feels good.”

“Yeah?” You rested your chin on his shoulder, purring softly near his ear. “Good enough to tell him?”

He chuckled low. “Still no. He can wait.”

You nipped at his earlobe, playful. “Cruel. I like it.”

The two of you stayed like that for a while. You massaging the oil through the rest of his hair while he finished the remaining steps around your help. Step five was a heat protectant spray. Step six, the final serum. By the end his hair looked glossy and perfect, falling smoothly down his back. Your hands were still in it, though, fingers combing lazily now that the routine was done.

You teleported again suddenly, appearing sitting cross-legged on the dresser in front of him. Your tail curled around a bottle of his shampoo, tail tip flicking against the glass. “You know he’s going to figure it out eventually. Especially with Legacy Day coming up.”

Geto stepped between your knees, hands settling on your hips. “Maybe. But watching him spiral is entertaining.” His thumbs traced small circles on your sides, eyes warm as they met yours. “Besides, I’m more interested in what we’re doing right now.”

You leaned forward and bumped your forehead against his. Your cat ears brushed his bangs. “And what are we doing, exactly?”

“Whatever we want,” he said simply. He kissed you then, slow and deep, one hand sliding up to cradle the back of your neck. You melted into it, purring louder, tail wrapping around his waist to pull him closer. When he pulled back, his lips were slightly shiny. “You’re going to be the death of me.”

“Only if you’re lucky,” you teased, grinning against his mouth.

He kissed you again, harder this time, hands gripping your thighs as he lifted you off the dresser. You wrapped your legs around him instinctively, arms around his neck. The two of you moved back toward the bed in a clumsy, laughing shuffle. You teleported mid-step just to mess with him, appearing already lying down with your head on the pillows, grin floating above you before your body followed.

Geto rolled his eyes fondly and crawled over you, caging you in with his arms. His freshly oiled hair fell around both of you like a dark curtain. “Cheater.”

“Always,” you said proudly. Your tail flicked up to brush along his spine.

The mood between you shifted easily from playful to something warmer, more charged. His fingers traced the edge of one of your ears, making it twitch. You arched up into him, hands sliding under his shirt to feel the smooth skin of his back. The afternoon light was fading outside, turning the room softer, more intimate.

Geto pressed a kiss to the corner of your mouth, then your jaw, then lower. “You’re going to wrinkle my shirt.”

“You’re going to take it off anyway soon anyway,” you countered, already tugging at the fabric.

He laughed quietly, the sound vibrating against your neck. You helped him pull the shirt over his head, tossing it somewhere across the room. Your hands roamed over his chest, admiring the lean muscle and the way his hair now spilled freely over his shoulders. You reached up and ran your fingers through it again. The strands curled happily around your digits, holding on like they never wanted to let go.

“See?” you whispered. “They missed me.”

Geto hummed in agreement, kissing you once more. The weight of him above you felt perfect, grounding. Outside, the campus continued its usual rhythm—students heading to evening classes, the distant sound of someone practicing flute near the fountains. But in here it was just the two of you, the familiar teasing, the easy affection that had grown stronger over the past months.

You nipped at his bottom lip. “Still not going to tell him?”

“Not yet,” he murmured, smiling against your skin. “Let him figure it out on his own.”

You laughed, bright and unrestrained, and pulled him down again. The oil from Wonderland left a faint pleasant scent on your hands as you tangled them deeper in his hair. Whatever secret he was keeping could wait. Right now, with his body warm against yours and his hair wrapped gently around your fingers, everything else felt far away.

The sun dipped lower, casting long shadows across the bed. Geto’s routine was long finished, but neither of you were in any hurry to leave this moment. There would be time for confessions and Legacy Day drama later.

The last drops of oil glistened on your fingers as you gave Suguru’s hair one final, slow stroke. The dark strands had gone completely calm under your touch, draping smoothly down his back and curling affectionately around your wrists like they refused to let go.

Suguru let out a low, satisfied hum, eyes half-lidded in the mirror. He turned around slowly, hands settling on your hips where you still sat on the dresser. His thumbs traced small circles over the fabric of your skirt.

“You did a good job,” he murmured, voice lower than usual. A small smirk played on his lips. “I think you deserve a reward for helping with my hair.”

Your ears perked up, tail flicking behind you with interest. “Oh? What kind of reward?”

Instead of answering with words, Suguru leaned in and kissed you deeply, tongue sliding against yours until your head felt pleasantly fuzzy. When he pulled back, his eyes had darkened with clear intent.

He lifted you off the dresser like you weighed nothing, carrying you the few steps to his bed. He laid you down gently on your back, crawling over you until his long hair spilled around both of you like a curtain. “Let me take care of you,” he said softly against your lips. “You’ve been such a good girl today.”

Your breath caught as he kissed down your neck, then lower, pushing your shirt up and tugging your skirt and panties down in one smooth motion. He settled between your thighs, strong hands spreading them wider. Your tail curled nervously-excitedly against the sheets.

Suguru looked up at you through his lashes, a rare soft smile on his face. “Relax.”

He leaned in and dragged his tongue slowly up your slit, tasting you with a pleased sound. Your back arched instantly, a soft mewl escaping your throat. He didn’t rush. He took his time licking broad stripes over your folds, circling your clit with the tip of his tongue before sucking it gently between his lips.

“Fuck— Suguru,” you gasped, fingers threading into his hair.

The moment you tugged lightly on the dark strands, his hair seemed to respond, wrapping loosely around your fingers like it wanted more. You pulled again, a little firmer, and he groaned against you, the vibration sending sparks up your spine. He licked deeper, tongue pushing inside you before returning to your clit with focused, wet strokes.

You writhed beneath him, hips rolling against his mouth. Every gentle pull on his hair made him work harder, sucking and licking with perfect pressure. Your cat ears flattened against your head in pleasure, tail thrashing wildly beside you on the bed.

He slid two fingers inside you without warning, curling them just right while his mouth stayed on your clit. The wet sounds filled the room, filthy and intimate. You moaned louder, gripping his hair tighter, guiding him exactly where you needed.

“Right there— don’t stop—”

He didn’t. He kept the steady rhythm until your thighs started shaking around his head. Pleasure coiled tight in your belly, then snapped. You came with a broken cry, tugging hard on his hair as your walls clenched around his fingers. He worked you through it, licking you gently until you were twitching and oversensitive.

When he finally pulled back, his lips were shiny and his eyes were dark with want. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, looking unfairly composed except for the flush on his cheeks.

You were still catching your breath when he shed the rest of his clothes. His cock was hard and flushed, curving slightly upward. He climbed back over you, kissing you so you could taste yourself on his tongue.

“Want you,” you whispered against his mouth, legs wrapping around his waist.

Suguru groaned softly. He lined himself up and pushed inside you in one smooth thrust, burying himself to the hilt. You both moaned at the feeling. He stayed still for a moment, forehead pressed to yours, breathing you in.

Then he started moving.

At first his thrusts were deep and steady, hips rolling against yours in a rhythm that made your toes curl. Your hands stayed in his hair, pulling gently every time he hit that perfect spot inside you. His hair kept reacting, strands wrapping around your wrists and fingers like living silk.

“Feels so good,” he murmured, voice rough. He kissed you again, messy and desperate, as his pace gradually picked up. The bed creaked under you. Skin slapped against skin. Your tail curled around his thigh, holding him closer.

Suguru fucked you harder for a while, chasing the pleasure, then slowed again, grinding deep and slow like he wanted it to last forever. Every thrust dragged against that sensitive spot inside you until you were whimpering into his mouth.

He came first this time, burying himself deep with a low groan, hips stuttering as he spilled inside you. The feeling pushed you over the edge again, clenching around him as another orgasm washed over you, softer and longer.

For a minute you just breathed together, bodies sticky and warm. Suguru stayed inside you for a little while longer before carefully pulling out. He disappeared for a moment to grab a warm cloth, then came back and cleaned you up with gentle hands.

Aftercare with Suguru was always like this.

He pulled you against his chest, spooning you from behind. One arm wrapped around your waist, the other sliding under your head. His long hair, still slightly scented with that Wonderland oil, draped over both of you. Several thick strands curled around your body like a second blanket, wrapping loosely around your waist, one thigh, and even gently around your tail.

You purred, sleepy and content, pressing back into his warmth. Your ears twitched lazily as he kissed the back of your neck.

“Comfy?” he asked quietly, voice soft with affection.

“Mhm.” You nuzzled into the pillow, eyes already half-closed. “Your hair likes me more than you.”

He chuckled, the sound low and warm against your skin. “Can’t blame it.” One of his hands stroked slowly up and down your side, soothing. “You’re warm. And you smell nice. And you help with my routine.”

You smiled, tail curling around his calf. The two of you fit together perfectly like this—his taller frame curled protectively around your smaller one, his hair acting like a living embrace. The room had grown darker as evening settled over the campus, but neither of you made any move to get up.

Suguru pressed another kiss behind your ear. “Thank you for the oil. And for calming them down.”

“Anytime,” you mumbled, already drifting. Your voice came out slow and sleepy-cat soft. “Even if you won’t tell him yet.”

He laughed quietly. “Still no. But maybe soon.”

You didn’t push. You were too comfortable, too full of warmth and the pleasant ache between your legs. His fingers kept tracing lazy patterns on your hip. His hair stayed wrapped around you, gentle and secure, like it never wanted to let go.

Outside, the towers of Ever After High stood quiet under the emerging stars. Inside Suguru’s dorm, the world felt small and safe. Just the two of you, tangled together, breathing in sync.

You purred again, softer this time, as sleep finally pulled you under. Suguru stayed awake a little longer, holding you close, his hair still lightly curled around your body like a silent promise.

Whatever secret he was keeping could wait until tomorrow.

For tonight, this was enough.

The lecture hall for Advanced Destiny Theory was only half-full, the usual morning chatter mixing with the scratch of quills on parchment. Suguru Geto sat near the center, posture relaxed, his long dark hair tied in a loose half-up style after last night’s routine. You were supposed to be three rows back. Of course, that rule had never applied to you.

Right as Professor Baba launched into a lecture on narrative binding, your grin appeared beside Geto’s left shoulder, floating cheerfully. Then the rest of you materialized, dropping into the empty seat next to him with a soft pop of displaced air. Your cat ears twitched happily, tail curling around his ankle under the desk.

“Morning,” you whispered, leaning in to press a quick kiss to his jaw.

Geto exhaled through his nose, but the corner of his mouth curved. “You’re going to get us written up again.”

“Worth it,” you said, already digging into your pocket. You pulled out a small silver spoon you’d lifted from a tea party yesterday and slipped it smoothly into the back of his hair. The dark strands shifted on their own, wrapping around the spoon and tucking it neatly out of sight.

Geto reached up, fingers brushing the hidden lump. “Stop treating my hair like your contraband vault.”

“But it likes it,” you purred, scratching gently at the base of his neck where the strands met skin. Several locks immediately curled around your fingers in response, holding on softly.

Across the aisle, Gojo leaned over, sunglasses perched low on his nose. “You two are sickeningly domestic. Not even a little scared about disappearing if you skip signing the Storybook? Legacy Day is right around the corner and you’re playing hide-and-seek with stolen goods.”

Geto shrugged, calm as ever. “Nah.”

You grinned wider, tail flicking. “We’re fine.”

Gojo raised an eyebrow. “That’s all? I’m over here losing sleep about apples and losing the love of my life to a prison of mirrors and you two are just vibing. It’s almost insulting.”

You teleported again, vanishing completely except for your floating grin lingering near Geto’s ear for a dramatic second. Then even that disappeared.

A heartbeat later your grin reappeared on his right side. You fully materialized and dropped a shiny golden button into his hair. The strands welcomed it instantly, folding over the button and hiding it perfectly.

Geto sighed, but tilted his head slightly to help. “You’re impossible.”

“Your hair disagrees,” you said sweetly, running your fingers through the front sections. The dark locks wrapped around your hand, almost vibrating under your touch.

Gojo watched the exchange with growing frustration and amusement. “You know most people are panicking, right? Sukuna’s probably planning something dramatic to stay with his pretty cupid girl. I’m trying to get my story straight and you two are out here acting like the rules don’t exist.”

Geto glanced at him. “Maybe they don’t. Not the way everyone thinks.”

You teleported onto Geto’s lap this time, legs draped sideways, arms looping around his neck. He caught you automatically, one hand resting on your thigh. His hair shifted again, a few strands curling around your waist like a living belt.

Professor Baba cleared her throat sharply from the front. “Miss Cheshire, please return to your assigned seat or I will have to separate you two.”

You gave the professor your sweetest smile and teleported back to your original chair. But not before slipping a small crystal charm into Geto’s hair. The strands swallowed it eagerly.

The rest of class passed with you blinking in and out of existence every few minutes, each time adding another tiny stolen treasure to Geto’s hair. A thimble. A tiny key. A playing card. Every single item disappeared into the dark lengths, hidden flawlessly while the hair itself seemed to preen under your attention.

When class finally ended, the three of you walked out into the bright quad together. Gojo couldn’t hold it in any longer.

“Okay, seriously,” he said, falling into step beside you. “What’s going on? You’re both way too relaxed about Legacy Day. Everyone else is terrified of vanishing and you two are just… dating in public and turning Suguru’s hair into a smuggling operation.”

You leaned against Geto’s side, purring softly. “We have inside information.”

Gojo stopped walking. “What kind of inside information?”

You teleported in front of him, grin appearing first, followed by the rest of you. Your tail swished. “Wonderland kids have known the truth for generations. The Storybook of Legends doesn’t make you disappear if you don’t sign. It just loses its power over you. You step outside the main narrative, but you still exist. My mother told me years ago. All of us from Wonderland know.”

Gojo’s mouth fell open. “You’re joking.”

“Nope,” you said cheerfully. “So when we say we’re not worried, we mean it. I told Suguru months ago.”

Geto slid an arm around your shoulders, calm and unbothered. “And I decided it was more entertaining to watch you scramble.”

Gojo stared at his friend, betrayed. “You’ve been letting me stress about this for weeks because it’s funny? LEGACY DAY IS IN TWO DAYS AND I'VE BEEN PUSHING MY GIRL AWAY FOR NOTHING?”

“Pretty much,” Geto confirmed, not even pretending to feel guilty. His hair shifted, letting the silver spoon peek out for a second before tucking it away again.

You laughed, pressing closer to Geto. “He finds your suffering amusing.”

Gojo ran both hands through his white hair, groaning dramatically. “I can’t believe this. My best friend is hoarding the one piece of information that would stop me from having a breakdown every night, and his cat-girl girlfriend is enabling him while using his hair as a treasure chest.”

“Very effective treasure chest,” you added, reaching up to pet the dark strands. They curled happily around your fingers.

Geto kissed the top of your head. “She’s right.”

Gojo pointed at both of you. “You’re both terrible. I’m telling everyone.”

“Go ahead,” Geto said. “They won’t believe you. Most people here are too attached to the idea that the book controls everything.”

You teleported onto Geto’s back, arms around his neck, legs around his waist. He adjusted his grip on your thighs without missing a beat. His hair wrapped gently around your arms and waist, securing you in place like it had done last night.

Gojo shook his head, but he was smiling now, the heavy tension in his shoulders finally easing. “I hate you both. But also thank you. I think.”

You rested your chin on Geto’s head, purring. “Anytime.”

The rest of the morning passed in easy chaos. You kept teleporting around Geto during breaks, hiding more random shiny objects in his hair. He pretended to scold you every time, but never actually stopped you. His hair, on the other hand, actively helped—shifting and curling to conceal everything perfectly while reaching out for your hands whenever you got close.

By lunch, Gojo had mostly recovered from the betrayal and was bombarding you with questions about Wonderland lore. You answered between bites of stolen pastries, tail flicking happily as you sat half in Geto’s lap at the dining table.

Geto watched the two of you with quiet amusement, occasionally feeding you bites from his own plate. Every so often a student would stare at the way his hair moved on its own or at how openly affectionate you both were. Neither of you cared.

When the bell rang for the next class, you slipped your hand into Geto’s. His fingers laced with yours immediately. His hair brushed softly against your shoulder, warm and familiar.

“Still not telling him everything?” you whispered as both you walked back to his dorm. He had asked a little someone to erase every conversation he had today from Gojo's mind. For funsies he says. Because it's apparently going to entertaining to see Satoru push away his girl just to realize everything in two days.

Geto smirked. “Not yet. Let him suffer just a little longer.”

You laughed brightly, the sound carrying across the quad. Whatever Legacy Day brought, you and Geto would face it together—playful, unbothered, and completely unafraid of a book that no longer held power over you.

The moon hung high over Ever After High, casting silver light across the west tower dorms. Only two days remained until Legacy Day. The campus felt heavier with anticipation, but inside Suguru’s room the atmosphere was quieter, more intimate.

You had teleported back in earlier after paying a visit to your mother in Wonderland without your usual dramatic flair. No floating grin lingering in the air, no cheeky comments. You were curled up on his bed now, knees drawn to your chest, staring at the wall with a small pout you kept trying to hide.

Geto had just finished his evening hair routine. He turned from the mirror, dark strands falling smoothly down his back, and looked at you. Something was off.

Your cat ears were drooping, pressed flat against your head. Your tail, usually in constant playful motion, lay still against the sheets, barely twitching. You were pretending to flip through an old storybook on your lap, but your eyes weren’t moving across the pages.

He crossed the room and sat on the edge of the bed beside you. “You’ve been quiet tonight.”

“I’m fine,” you mumbled, forcing a small smile that didn’t reach your eyes. You rolled onto your side, turning your back to him a little. “Just tired. Legacy Day stress or whatever.”

Geto watched you for a long moment. He reached out and gently ran his fingers along the base of one drooping ear. It flicked weakly under his touch but didn’t perk up like it normally would. Your tail gave one half-hearted swish and went still again.

“You’re not fine,” he said softly. “Your ears are down. Your tail isn’t moving. Talk to me.”

You stayed facing away, shoulders hunched. The silence stretched until you finally let out a shaky breath.

“I’m scared, Suguru.”

He shifted closer, one hand resting on your hip. “Scared of what?”

You turned slowly to face him, eyes glassy. “That you’ll get tired of me. Of all my shano— shena— whatever that word is. The teleporting, the stealing, hiding things in your hair, driving you crazy every day. Two days from now everything changes. If we don’t sign… you’re giving up your whole story. And I keep thinking… what if you regret it? What if you wake up one morning and wish you had followed your destiny instead? You could be in your tower, waiting for your rescue. With Manami. She’s the one the story picked for you. She’s supposed to be your fated one. Proper. Calm. Not chaotic like me.”

Your voice cracked on the last part. You looked down, ears flattening even more. “I keep imagining you realizing you made a mistake by choosing me. That you’d rather have the scripted ending than this… whatever we are.”

Geto was quiet for a second, processing the weight of your words. Then he reached out, cupping your face with both hands, thumbs gently brushing under your eyes.

“Hey,” he said firmly, voice low and steady. “Look at me.”

You did, reluctantly, golden eyes meeting his dark ones.

“I would never regret choosing you,” he said. “Not for a single day. Not for a single second. I don’t want the tower. I don’t want the scripted rescue. And I definitely don’t want Manami.”

You sniffled. “But she’s—”

“I don’t like her,” he cut in gently but decisively. “She’s boring. She follows every rule like it’s law. She talks about destiny like it’s the only thing that matters. Every time we’ve been forced to interact for rehearsals, I spend the entire time counting down the minutes until I can leave. She doesn’t make me laugh. She doesn’t challenge me. She doesn’t sneak into my room and turn my hair into a treasure chest or teleport onto my lap during class.”

A tiny, watery smile tugged at your lips, but doubt still lingered in your eyes.

Geto leaned in closer, forehead resting against yours. “I love your shenanigans. I love how you teleport around me just to mess with me. I love that your grin appears before the rest of you. I love coming back to my room and finding random shiny things hidden in my hair because you decided they belonged there. I love how your tail wraps around my leg when you’re happy. I love all of it.”

He brushed a strand of hair from your face, voice softening even more. “The Storybook doesn’t get to decide who I spend my life with. I choose you. I’ve been choosing you every single day since you started popping into my life with that floating smile. Two days from now, when we don’t sign, I’m not going to wake up wishing for a different ending. I’m going to wake up next to you — or with you teleporting on top of me — and be glad I’m free to do exactly that.”

Tears slipped down your cheeks. You wiped at them quickly, embarrassed. “Promise?”

“I promise.” He kissed your forehead, then the tip of your nose, then your lips — slow and lingering. “I’d rather spend the rest of my life figuring things out with you than live out some perfect tower rescue with someone I don’t even like. You make every day interesting. You make me happy. That’s more than any destiny could give me.”

You let out a shaky breath and finally uncurl, shifting closer to him. “I just… I got scared. Everyone keeps talking about what they’ll lose if they don’t sign. I started thinking maybe I’m the thing you’d lose by not signing.”

“Never,” he whispered against your hair. “You’re what I gain.”

You climbed into his lap, straddling him, arms wrapping tightly around his neck. Geto held you close, one hand rubbing slow circles on your back while the other stroked gently behind your ears until they finally started to perk up again. Your tail began to sway, wrapping around his waist.

“Better?” he asked quietly.

You nodded against his shoulder. “Yeah. Sorry for being pouty.”

“Don’t apologize. I like knowing what’s going on in that chaotic head of yours.” He kissed the side of your neck. “Even when it’s worrying about things that will never happen.”

You stayed in his lap for a long while, just breathing each other in. The fear that had been gnawing at you slowly eased under his steady reassurance and warm hands.

Eventually Geto shifted you both, lying down on the bed and pulling you with him. He spooned you from behind, chest pressed to your back, arms wrapped securely around your waist. His long hair spilled over both of you. Several thick strands moved on their own, gently caressing your cheek, brushing softly against your ears, and curling lightly around your tail like a protective embrace.

You purred, the sound low and content, pressing back into his warmth. “Your hair is cuddling me again.”

“It likes you,” he murmured, lips brushing the back of your neck. “Almost as much as I do.”

Your ears twitched happily. The gentle caress of his hair against your skin felt soothing, almost like it was trying to wipe away the last traces of your insecurity. You intertwined your fingers with his where his hand rested on your stomach.

“Two days,” you whispered.

“Two days,” he agreed. “Then we start writing our own story. No towers. No rescues. Just us.”

You smiled in the dark, tail curling more firmly around his leg. The fear was still there, small and distant now, but Geto’s presence — his words, his arms, his hair gently stroking your cheek — made it feel manageable.

“I love you,” you said softly.

“I love you too,” he replied without hesitation. “Chaos and all.”

You drifted toward sleep like that — safe in his arms, wrapped in his warmth and the living silk of his hair that continued its gentle, affectionate caresses against your face. The weight of Legacy Day still loomed, but for tonight, it felt far away.

Geto stayed awake a little longer, holding you tighter, his hair continuing its soft ministrations until your breathing evened out completely and your tail stopped twitching in your sleep.

Whatever came in two days, he knew one thing for certain: he had already made his choice.

And it was you.

The morning of Legacy Day dawned bright and tense over Ever After High. The grand hall buzzed with nervous energy, students filing in wearing their finest ceremonial clothes. But Suguru Geto and you had chosen a different vantage point.

You both sat on a wide stone balcony overlooking the courtyard that led to the grand hall, far enough away to avoid the ceremony but close enough to watch everything unfold. Geto leaned against the railing, long dark hair loose and flowing down his back. You were half in his lap, tail curled comfortably around his waist, fingers idly playing with his hair.

“You’re really not going at all?” you asked, twisting a thick strand around your finger before letting it go. The hair immediately curled back toward your hand, seeking more attention.

Geto hummed, eyes fixed on the crowd below. “No point. We already know how this ends for us.”

You grinned, teleporting briefly so your floating smile appeared in front of his face before you reappeared fully, now straddling his lap facing him. “Good. More time for this.” You buried both hands in his hair, massaging his scalp gently. The dark strands wrapped around your wrists like they always did, warm and affectionate.

Down below, the ceremony had begun. Headmaster Grimm’s voice carried faintly on the wind as names were called. Geto’s gaze stayed sharp, focused on one figure in particular.

“There he goes,” Geto murmured.

You turned slightly, still playing with his hair, and spotted Gojo walking up to the podium in his pristine white suit. His hair was neatly styled for once, but you could see the tension in his shoulders even from this distance.

Sukuna had already gone. The four-armed figure had stood on stage, refused to sign, and remained completely solid when the minute of silence passed. The shock still rippled through the crowd below.

You watched Geto watch his friend. Your fingers never stopped moving through his hair, braiding small sections only to let them unravel again. The strands kept reaching for you, some of them brushing playfully against your cat ears.

Gojo stood at the Storybook of Legends now. The quill hovered in his hand. The entire courtyard seemed to hold its breath.

Then Gojo set the quill down.

His voice rang out clearly, even from where you sat. “I won’t sign it.”

A fresh wave of gasps echoed below. Geto’s shoulders relaxed. A small, genuine smile curved his lips as he watched Gojo step away from the podium and walk straight toward his girl—in the audience.

Suguru turned his head to look at you. His dark eyes were soft, warm with quiet satisfaction.

“I’m glad I didn’t let Cupid bind me to Manami,” he said quietly.

You paused your hands in his hair, ears perking up. “Yeah?”

He nodded, one arm wrapping around your waist to pull you closer. “I would’ve ended up in that tower, waiting for a rescue I didn’t want, with someone I never chose. Instead I get this.” His free hand came up to tuck a strand of your hair behind your ear, thumb brushing the soft fur. “I get you teleporting into my room, hiding random things in my hair, making every day unpredictable. I get to be free with the person I actually love.”

Your tail swayed happily behind you. You leaned in and bumped your forehead against his. “Sap.”

“Only for you,” he replied, smiling wider.

Below, the ceremony was descending into controlled chaos. Students whispered frantically. Some looked inspired, others horrified. Gojo had reached the evil queen's daughter and pulled her into his arms in front of everyone. Even from the balcony you could see the relief in his posture.

You giggled softly, nuzzling into Geto’s neck. “Look at him. He finally did it.”

Geto’s hair shifted, several thick strands curling gently around your shoulders and waist, holding you securely against him. “Took him long enough. He was spiraling for weeks.”

“Because you thought it was funny to watch,” you teased, nipping at his jaw.

“Exactly.” He tilted his head to kiss you properly, slow and unhurried, like Legacy Day wasn’t happening just below you. When he pulled back, his expression was peaceful. “No regrets.”

“None,” you agreed.

You stayed like that on the balcony as the sun climbed higher. You kept playing with his hair, braiding and unbraiding, letting strands wrap around your fingers while your tail flicked contentedly. Geto watched the scene below for a little longer before his attention returned fully to you.

“Think they’ll try to force us to sign later?” you asked, grinning.

“They can try,” he said calmly. “Won’t work.”

Your grin widened, sharp and mischievous. You teleported for a second, leaving only your floating smile in front of his face, then reappeared sitting behind him on the wide railing, legs dangling on either side of his body. You draped yourself over his back, arms around his shoulders, chin resting on top of his head.

His hair immediately reacted, wrapping around your arms and brushing softly against your cheeks.

“I love you,” you whispered near his ear.

“I love you too,” he answered, reaching up to squeeze your thigh. “Chaos and stolen spoons included.”

You laughed brightly, the sound carrying on the breeze. Below, Legacy Day continued without you. Students made their choices. Some signed. Some didn’t. But up here, none of it touched you.

Geto leaned back into your embrace, completely relaxed. His hair continued its gentle caresses against your skin, like a living reminder of everything you’d chosen together.

No towers.

No forced destinies.

No regrets.

Just the two of you, watching the world try to follow its script while you wrote your own.

“Come on,” he said, voice light but with that gentle push underneath. “Just think about it. Signing together would be perfect. You, me, following the path our parents set. It’s what we’re supposed to do.”

You closed the textbook with a soft thud and looked at him. The two of you had grown up together in Snow White’s castle after your mother’s fall. Snow had taken you in out of pity, raising you alongside her son like you were family. Satoru had been your constant—playmate, protector, best friend. The one person who never looked at you like the next Evil Queen in waiting.

“I’m not signing, Satoru,” you said quietly.

He turned his head toward you, blue eyes bright behind the slight tilt of his sunglasses. “You always say that. But Legacy Day is only two months away. We could practice the scene. You poison the apple, I take a bite, fall into the deep sleep. Then Utahime shows up, true love’s kiss, and we wake up to our happily ever after. It’s beautiful. Classic.”

You felt the familiar twist in your stomach. “Beautiful for you, maybe.”

He sat up straighter, turning fully to face you. One of his hands reached out and nudged your knee. “It’s beautiful for everyone. That’s the point of our stories. You get to play your role, I get mine, and everything ends right. You’ve been part of my life forever. It makes sense that you’d be the one to send me into the sleep. Who else could I trust with that?”

The words should have felt sweet. Growing up, you’d spent countless afternoons running through the castle gardens, sharing secrets under the apple trees, him promising he’d always look out for you. But every time he talked about destiny, the walls felt closer.

“I end up in the mirror prison, Satoru,” you said, voice tighter than you wanted. “Just like my mother. Trapped for the rest of my life, watching the world through glass while everyone else moves on. That’s not a happily ever after for me. That’s a life sentence.”

He frowned, but the optimistic shine didn’t leave his eyes. “It’s only temporary. The stories always balance out eventually. And I’ll visit. I’ll bring you news from outside. We can talk through the mirror. It won’t be forever.”

You stood up and walked to the window, arms crossed over your chest. The quad below was busy—students practicing lines for their own tales, others comparing destiny notes. “You make it sound so easy. Like I should be excited to lock myself away so you can get kissed awake by your princess charming.”

Satoru got up too, following you. He stopped just behind your shoulder, close enough that you could smell the faint crisp scent of apples and fresh snow that always clung to him. “Utahime is… well, she’s the one the story picked. She’ll come through when it matters. I know she will.”

A short laugh escaped you. “She hates you, Satoru.”

“She doesn’t hate me,” he said cheerfully. “She just… strongly dislikes my personality sometimes. But true love fixes that. It’s part of the narrative. She’ll see me sleeping and realize what she’s been missing. Then boom—true love’s kiss. Everything falls into place.”

You turned to face him. His expression was so sincere it hurt. This was the same boy who used to sneak you extra slices of pie when the castle cooks tried to follow the strict “evil diet” rules your mother had given snow hite through the mirror. The one who had defended you when other students whispered about your bloodline. But his belief in destiny was unshakable.

“I don’t want to poison you,” you said softly. “Even if it’s pretend. Even if it’s the story. I grew up with you. You’re… you’re important to me. More than just some step in a tale.”

His smile softened. He reached out and took your hand, squeezing it. “That’s why it has to be you. Because you care. It makes the whole thing more real. More meaningful. Come on, just say you’ll think about signing. For me?”

The pressure in his words was gentle, wrapped in that sunny tone he used so well, but it was pressure all the same. You pulled your hand back, though not harshly.

“Two months,” you reminded him. “I still have time to decide. And right now, I’m deciding no.”

He sighed, but the sigh was dramatic and theatrical, the kind meant to make you smile. “You’re killing me here. Literally, if you don’t sign. I can’t have my happily ever after without the poisoned apple part. It’s the setup. The drama. The romance.”

You rolled your eyes, some of the tension easing despite yourself. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Ridiculously charming,” he corrected with a grin. “That’s what they say in the previews.”

The two of you ended up back on the couch. Satoru stretched out again, this time resting his head in your lap like he used to do when you were kids hiding from lessons. You found yourself threading your fingers through his white hair without thinking, the motion familiar and comforting.

“I hate when you do this,” you muttered.

“Do what?”

“Act like everything will be perfect if we just follow the book.”

He looked up at you, blue eyes serious for once. “Because it will be. My mom got her happy ending. Your mom… well, things went wrong for her, but that doesn’t mean it has to for you. We can do it right. Together. You poison me, I sleep, Utahime kisses me, and then we all celebrate. Maybe you even get released early for good behavior. The mirrors aren’t that bad. I hear they have great lighting.”

You flicked his forehead lightly. “You’re impossible.”

He caught your hand again, holding it against his chest. “I’m hopeful. There’s a difference. And I want you to have your part in my story. You’ve always been in it, ever since Mom brought you home. Don’t you want that too?”

The question lingered between you. Part of you did—the part that remembered late-night talks in the castle, the way he made you feel less alone in a world that already labeled you as trouble. But the bigger part, the one that had nightmares about endless reflections staring back at you, refused.

“What if I don’t want to be the evil queen’s daughter in that way?” you asked quietly. “What if I just want to be… me. Not trapped. Not waiting behind glass while you live your perfect life with Utahime.”

Satoru was quiet for a moment, something rare. His thumb brushed over your knuckles. “Then we find a way to make the story work for both of us. But I need you to sign, at least. The rest we can figure out later. Please?”

The gentle push was back, wrapped in affection. You looked down at him, this golden boy who believed so strongly in happy endings that he couldn’t see how some endings weren’t happy for everyone involved.

“I’ll think about it,” you said finally, because saying no outright always led to more arguments, and you were tired today.

His face lit up like you’d already agreed. “That’s my girl. See? We’re already on the right path.”

You didn’t correct him. Instead you kept running your fingers through his hair while he talked about potential ceremony outfits and how he’d make sure the apple was perfectly poisoned—not too deadly, just right for the deep sleep. His voice was bright, full of excitement for the destiny he craved.

Inside, your chest felt heavy. Signing meant betrayal—of yourself, of the future you wanted, of the friendship that had kept you steady all these years. Not signing meant disappointing the one person who had never looked at you with fear or suspicion. And the risk of everyone involved in the story disappearing.

The common room slowly emptied as afternoon turned to evening. Students headed to dinner or evening rehearsals. Satoru eventually sat up, stretching dramatically.

“Want to grab something to eat? I heard they’re serving those sugar apples you like. Symbolic, right?”

You managed a small smile. “Sure.”

He stood and offered his hand. You took it, letting him pull you up. The two of you walked side by side through the corridors, shoulders brushing, the easy rhythm of years of companionship carrying you along. But every step reminded you that Legacy Day was approaching, and Satoru’s gentle pressure would only grow stronger.

Later that night, back in your dorm room, you stood in front of the tall mirror on your wall. Your reflection stared back—features that carried too much of your mother’s sharpness, eyes that already looked tired of fighting fate. You imagined glass closing in around you, years stretching out in cold silence while Satoru lived his perfect story with Utahime.

Utahime, who rolled her eyes every time Gojo tried to talk to her in the halls. Utahime, who once told him to “go find someone else to annoy for eternity” during a group project. The idea of her kissing him awake felt almost laughable. But Satoru believed it would happen. He always believed.

You touched the mirror’s surface, cool under your fingers.

“I don’t want to end up like you,” you whispered to the reflection.

No answer came. Only the faint sound of campus life outside your window—laughter, footsteps, the turning pages of countless destined stories.

Two months. That was all the time you had before you had to decide whether to poison the boy who had been your family, or risk breaking the heart of the only person who had ever truly believed in you.

You turned away from the mirror and curled up on your bed, the weight of destiny pressing down harder than the blankets. Satoru’s hopeful words still echoed in your head, gentle and relentless.

Just sign. It’ll be perfect.

But perfection, you were learning, always came at someone’s cost.

The days after your conversation in the common room grew heavier, like storm clouds gathering over the castle spires. Legacy Day was still two months away, but it felt closer every time Satoru looked at you. The easy rhythm you’d shared since childhood started to fracture, small cracks appearing in places you never expected.

You noticed it first during lunch in the grand dining hall. The long tables were filled with students comparing destiny notes and practicing lines. You sat in your usual spot beside him, poking at a plate of roasted vegetables. Satoru had always saved the best apple tarts for you, sliding them over with that bright grin. Today he didn’t.

Instead, he took the last tart for himself and said, voice light but edged, “You should probably get used to simpler meals anyway. Evil queens don’t exactly get castle banquets after they’re done with their schemes.”

The words landed like a quiet slap. You stared at him. “What?”

He shrugged, blue eyes hidden behind his sunglasses. “Just being realistic. Part of the role, right? You poison me, I sleep, you get locked away. Might as well start adjusting now.”

You set your fork down. Around you, conversations continued, but the space between you and Satoru felt suddenly loud. “That’s not funny.”

“Wasn’t trying to be funny.” He took a bite of the tart, chewing slowly. “You keep saying you’re not signing. If you don’t, you know what happens. But if you do… everything works. I get my sleep. Utahime gets her moment. You get your part in the story. Simple. I promise i'll release you someday. In ten, fifteen years maybe.”

The subtle rudeness stung more because it came wrapped in his usual cheerful tone. He wasn’t yelling. He was just… pushing. Every conversation for the next week carried the same undercurrent.

In the library archives one evening, while you were helping him research sleeping curse variations, he leaned back in his chair and sighed. “You know, if you actually cared about me following my destiny, you’d stop making this so difficult. It’s like you want me to miss my happily ever after.”

You looked up from the heavy book, chest tightening. “I grew up with you, Satoru. I do care. That’s why I don’t want to trap myself in a mirror for eternity.”

He waved a hand dismissively. “Temporary. I keep telling you. But sure, keep thinking only about yourself. That’s very… evil queen-like of you.”

The comment hurt. You closed the book harder than necessary. “I’m not my mother.”

“Could’ve fooled me lately,” he muttered, just loud enough for you to hear.

You left the library after that without saying goodbye. Tears burned behind your eyes as you walked back to your dorm through the dimly lit corridors. This wasn’t the Satoru who used to sneak into your room during thunderstorms to keep you company. This version felt calculated, like he was trying to make you angry enough to sign just to prove him wrong.

But underneath his words, you caught glimpses of something else. The way his eyes lingered when he thought you weren’t looking. The way he still sat near you in every shared class, even as his comments grew sharper. The Satoru you knew was there, buried under layers of destiny-driven stubbornness. He didn’t want you to disappear. He just wanted you to choose the story he believed in.

A few days later, you ran into him and Utahime in the training courtyard. She was practicing spellwork, her dark hair tied back, expression already annoyed as Satoru hovered nearby.

“Looking good, Princess Charming,” he called out, flashing his trademark grin. “Can’t wait for that true love’s kiss. Gonna be epic.”

Utahime shot him a glare sharp enough to cut glass. “Keep dreaming, Gojo. I’d rather kiss a frog.”

You stood a few paces away, watching. Satoru laughed it off like always, but when his gaze slid to you, the humor faded into something colder. “At least she’ll show up when it matters. Unlike some people who won’t even sign the book.”

The words were meant for you. Utahime glanced between you two, eyebrows raised, then shook her head and walked off muttering about “idiotic princes.”

Alone with him now, the courtyard felt too open, too exposed. “Why are you doing this?” you asked quietly. “Pushing me away like it’ll make me change my mind?”

Satoru crossed his arms, white hair glowing under the afternoon sun. “Because you need to see it. If you don’t sign, you disappear. Poof. No more you. And I…” He paused, jaw tightening for a second. “I need my evil queen for the story to work. It’s not the same if it’s someone else. It has to be you. We grew up together. It’s supposed to be you.”

His voice cracked just slightly on the last part. Yearning slipped through the cracks in his armor—raw and honest for a breath before he covered it again.

“Then stop being cruel,” you said, stepping closer. “Every time you say something mean, it makes me want to sign even less. I don’t want to hurt you, Satoru. But I don’t want to hurt myself either.”

He looked away, toward the enchanted apple trees lining the courtyard. “You think this is easy for me? Watching you fight the one thing that gives our lives meaning? I hate it. I hate thinking about you fading away because you’re too scared to play your part. So yeah, maybe I’m pushing. Maybe I’m being a little rude. But it’s for us. For the ending we deserve.”

You laughed bitterly. “The ending where I’m in prison and you’re happily married to someone who can’t stand you?”

“True love grows,” he insisted, but the words sounded weaker now. “It always does in the stories.”

The tension stretched between you, thick with years of shared memories and clashing futures. Part of you wanted to reach out and hug him like you did when you were kids. The other part wanted to walk away before his gentle pressure turned into something that broke you both.

Over the next week the pattern continued. Subtle jabs in the halls. “Evil queens are supposed to be decisive. Guess that part skipped you.” During group study sessions he’d sit across from you instead of beside, laughing loudly with others while occasionally shooting you looks that said he missed your company. At night, you sometimes found small gifts outside your door—an apple tart, a note with old inside jokes—only for him to act distant the next morning.

He missed you. You could feel it in the way his eyes followed you when he thought you weren’t paying attention. The way he lingered near your usual spots even after saying something cutting. He didn’t want you gone. He just wanted you compliant. The conflict tore at him, and he handled it by pushing harder, hoping the pressure would force your hand.

One evening you confronted him in the east tower common room again, the same place where this latest tension had started. The fire crackled low. Most students had gone to bed.

“Stop it,” you said, standing in front of him as he lounged on the couch. “The rude comments. The pushing. If you keep this up, I’m just going to avoid you until Legacy Day.”

Satoru sat up slowly. For once, the cheerful mask slipped completely. His blue eyes looked tired. “I don’t want you to disappear,” he admitted, voice quieter than usual. “That’s the last thing I want. You’ve been… you’ve been my person since we were kids. Mom brought you home and you became part of everything. But if you don’t sign, that’s what happens. You vanish. And I’m left with a story that doesn’t have its proper beginning. No poisoned apple from someone I actually trust. No real narrative.”

He stood, towering over you but somehow looking smaller. “So yeah, I’m being an ass. I’m sorry. Kind of. But I’m scared too. Scared you’ll choose nothing over the destiny that could give us both closure. Scared I’ll wake up from the sleep and you won’t even be there to see it.”

Your heart ached at the raw honesty. You wanted to tell him that his destiny wasn’t worth your freedom. That Utahime’s hatred wasn’t something a kiss could magically fix. That you loved the boy he used to be more than the prince he was trying so hard to become.

Instead you said, “I’m scared every day. Of the mirror. Of losing myself. Of signing away my future just so you can have yours.”

He reached out, fingers brushing your arm before dropping away. The touch was brief, almost hesitant. Yearning flashed across his face—clear and painful. “Just think about it. Please. Signing together… it could still be good. We could make the bad parts shorter. I’d visit every week. I’d make sure the mirror prison had the best view in the kingdom.”

The gentle push was back, softer now, mixed with genuine fear of losing you.

You stepped back. “I need space, Satoru. Stop trying to force me toward the apple. I’m not ready.”

He nodded once, but the look in his eyes said he wouldn’t stop completely. Destiny was too deeply rooted in him. As you left the common room, his voice followed you softly.

“I miss you already.”

The corridor felt colder. Less than two months until Legacy Day. The pressure was building, his rudeness a clumsy shield for how badly he wanted you in his story—and how terrified he was that refusing would make you disappear from his life entirely.

You held the wall for support, breathing slow. The boy who had been your family was turning into the prince who might break your heart before the story even properly began. And worst of all, you still cared enough that every sharp word from him cut deeper than it should.

The clock on the tower chimed softly. Time kept moving. Destiny waited. And Satoru Gojo, for all his brightness and belief, was learning that some choices couldn’t be gently pushed into place without consequences.

The east tower felt colder these days. Five weeks until Legacy Day, and Satoru Gojo couldn’t stop watching you. You sat across from him in the library again, flipping through a book you clearly weren’t reading. Your shoulders were tense, the way they got whenever he brought up the Storybook. He hated it. Hated the distance growing between you when all he wanted was to keep you close forever.

He leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, forcing that light tone he knew annoyed you lately. “Still pretending you have a choice? Come on. Signing isn’t that bad. You do your part, I do mine. Everything works out.”

You looked up, eyes sharp. “Stop pushing, Satoru.”

He shrugged like it didn’t matter, but inside his chest twisted hard. He didn’t care about the sleeping curse or Utahime or any of it. The happily ever after they wrote for him meant nothing if you weren’t in this world to see it. He had loved you since you were children running through the castle halls. Loved you in the quiet way that grew deeper every year. But saying it now would only make you pull away more. So he kept being an ass. If you hated him enough, maybe you’d sign just to get it over with. Maybe you’d stay.

“Fine,” he said, standing up. “Keep delaying. But when you disappear because you refused, don’t expect me to act surprised.”

He walked out before you could answer, jaw tight. The hallway blurred a little as he moved. Five weeks. That was all the time left to convince you. He would rather watch you poison him a thousand times than live in a world where you simply stopped existing.

That night he couldn’t sleep. He ended up on the balcony of his dorm, staring at the stars above the towers. Memories kept surfacing, especially the old ones.

He remembered when you were both six. Snow White’s castle gardens in full bloom, apple trees heavy with fruit. You had scraped your knee falling from a low branch. He had run over, clumsy and small, pressing a slightly dirty handkerchief to the cut.

“It’s okay,” he had said, all serious innocence. “I’ll marry you one day. Then I can protect you from everything. Even high branches.”

You had laughed through your tears, calling him silly. He meant it with every part of his little heart. Even then, the idea of you not being there beside him felt wrong. He still meant it now. But the story demanded a different path, and he was terrified the book would erase you if you refused it.

He clenched his fists on the balcony railing. “Just sign,” he whispered to the night air. “Please.”

The next few weeks dragged and flew at the same time. Four weeks left. He kept the pressure on, subtle but constant. In the dining hall he sat with others more often, laughing louder than necessary whenever you passed by. “Evil queens are supposed to be decisive,” he’d say if you got too close. “Guess some people just want to fade out instead.”

Every sharp word tasted bitter on his tongue. He saw the hurt flash across your face and it killed him inside. But he couldn’t stop. If softness brought you closer, then cruelty might force your hand toward the quill. He needed you here. Alive. Even if it meant you hated him by the end.

Three weeks left. You avoided him in the corridors now. He still found excuses to be where you were—training yard when you practiced spells, library when you studied late. One afternoon he cornered you near the enchanted fountains.

“You used to trust me,” he said, voice low. “We grew up together. I looked out for you when no one else wanted the Evil Queen’s daughter around. And now you won’t even do this one thing for me?”

You stared at him, pain clear in your eyes. “This one thing traps me forever, Satoru.”

He wanted to scream that he didn’t care about forever for himself. That the only forever he feared was one without you in it. Instead he laughed, cold and short. “Selfish. That’s new.”

He walked away before the guilt choked him.

The days blurred. He threw himself into rehearsals, practicing his lines for Legacy day while his mind stayed on you. Utahime rolled her eyes through every session, making it clear she wanted nothing to do with the script. He barely noticed. She wasn’t the one he needed to stay.

Two weeks left. He left small notes under your door again—old jokes from childhood, drawings of the two of you as kids under the apple trees. Then he acted like they meant nothing when he saw you. “Don’t read too much into it,” he said once when you tried to thank him. “Just habit. You’ll be gone soon if you keep this up.”

He saw you cry once, from a distance, hidden behind a pillar in the west courtyard. His hands shook for hours afterward. He loved you. Had loved you since you were small and he promised marriage like it was the simplest truth in the world. Now he was breaking both of you to keep you here.

One week left. The campus buzzed with Legacy Day nerves. Students practiced signatures and final fittings. Satoru found you in the common room late one night, the fire low and the space almost empty. You looked tired. He hated that he had caused some of it.

“Three weeks ago you said you’d think about it,” he said, sitting on the opposite end of the couch. “Time’s running out. I need you to sign.”

You didn’t look at him. “Why do you care so much? You get your princess either way.”

He almost told you then. Almost admitted that Utahime’s kiss meant nothing compared to the years of quiet love he carried for you. That he would happily sleep for a hundred years if it guaranteed you stayed in this world. But he bit it back. Hate me, he thought. Hate me and sign. Just don’t disappear.

“Because you’re supposed to be part of it,” he answered instead. “My story doesn’t start right without you.”

You stood up. “I’m not poisoning you just so I can rot in a mirror.”

He stayed seated as you left, staring at the empty space where you had been. The ache in his chest felt permanent now.

Five days left. He stopped the cruel comments. The pressure remained but quieter, heavier with everything he couldn’t say. He watched you from across rooms, memorizing the way you moved, the sound of your voice when you spoke to others. Every night he lay awake thinking about that six-year-old promise in the garden. He had meant it. Still meant it. If the story let him, he would choose you over any destined princess.

Three days before Legacy Day the tension felt unbearable. The grand hall was already being decorated—banners, the Storybook pedestal polished and waiting. Satoru found you on the balcony of the east tower at dusk, the same one where he had stood alone weeks ago. You leaned on the railing, looking out over the darkening campus.

He stepped beside you, close but not touching. For a long moment neither of you spoke.

“I don’t want you to go,” he said finally, voice rough. “Not like that. Not erased. I’d rather have you hate me and stay than lose you completely.”

You turned your head. “Then stop trying to force me into the mirror prison.”

He swallowed hard. The truth sat right there on his tongue—I’ve been in love with you since we were kids. Since I promised to marry you under the apple trees. But he held it in. If you knew, you might choose to run. Better you think he was just a destiny-obsessed prince.

“I can’t,” he whispered. “I need you here. Even if it means you’re angry at me forever.”

The sun dipped lower, painting the towers in soft oranges and reds. He wanted to reach for your hand like he did when you were small. Instead he kept still, heart heavy with all the love he couldn’t confess and all the fear of a world without you in it.

Three days. That was all that remained. He would keep pushing until the last moment, hoping it would be enough. Because the alternative—waking up one day to find you had simply vanished from existence—was something he couldn’t survive.

He stayed on the balcony long after you left, the evening wind cool against his skin. Inside his chest the years of quiet love burned stronger than ever. You had been his since childhood. He just needed the story to let him keep you.

The night before Legacy Day, the campus was eerily quiet. Most students had gone to bed early, nerves and excitement stealing their rest. Satoru couldn’t sleep. The pressure in his chest had built for weeks until it finally snapped.

He walked the empty corridors of the east tower in silence, white hair messy, sunglasses left behind in his room. His heart hammered harder with every step closer to your dorm. When he reached your door, he didn’t knock softly. He didn’t hesitate. He knocked hard, three sharp raps that echoed down the hall.

You opened the door in sleep clothes, eyes wide with surprise. “Satoru? It’s late. What are you—”

He stepped inside without waiting, closing the door behind him. The room was dim, lit only by a small enchanted lantern on your desk. He looked at you for one long second, all the years of love and fear crashing together, then cupped your face with both hands and kissed you.

It wasn’t gentle. It was desperate, months of aching poured into the press of his mouth. You stiffened at first, then softened, hands coming up to grip his shirt. When he pulled back just enough to breathe, his forehead rested against yours.

“I’m in love with you,” he said, voice raw and shaking. “I have been since we were kids. Since that day in the garden when I was six and told you I’d marry you one day. I meant it. I still mean it.”

Your breath caught. “Satoru…”

“I don’t care about Utahime. I don’t care about the sleeping curse or any of it. I only pushed you to sign because I can’t live in a world without you. If you don’t sign tomorrow, you disappear. You’re gone. Erased. And I’d rather watch you poison me and visit you in that mirror prison for the rest of my life than wake up one day and know you don’t exist anymore.”

Tears stung his eyes but he blinked them back. His hands trembled against your cheeks. “I need you here. Even if you hate me. Even if you’re trapped. Just… here. With me. Please.”

You whispered his name again, something broken in your voice. He kissed you once more, deeper this time, walking you backward until your legs hit the bed. “Just let me have this tonight,” he murmured against your lips. “Please. One night before everything changes.”

You nodded, pulling him down with you.

Clothes came off in a rush. His shirt, your sleep top, pants shoved down and kicked aside. He laid you on the bed and settled between your legs in missionary, skin against skin. No protection. No prep. He didn’t even think about it. He needed to feel all of you.

At first it was rough. He pushed into you in one deep thrust, groaning at the tight, silky heat surrounding him. You gasped, nails digging into his shoulders. He set a hard pace right away, hips snapping against yours, burying himself as deep as he could go. The bed creaked under you. Every thrust was urgent, almost angry, like he could fuck away the fear of losing you.

“Fuck,” he breathed against your neck, biting down gently. “You feel so good. So fucking perfect.”

He gripped your hips harder, angling deeper, pounding into you with weeks of pent-up emotion. The sound of skin slapping skin filled the small room, mixed with your moans and his low, broken grunts. He kissed you messily, tongue sliding against yours, then moved down to suck marks into your neck and collarbone like he needed to leave proof that tonight happened.

You wrapped your legs around his waist, meeting his thrusts, whispering his name like a prayer. The roughness slowly shifted. His movements grew slower, more deliberate. He pulled back to look at you, blue eyes dark and wet with emotion as he rolled his hips deep and steady, grinding against that spot inside you that made your breath hitch.

“I love you,” he whispered again, voice cracking. “I’ve always loved you.”

Every slow thrust felt like a confession. He savored the drag of your walls around his bare cock, the way you clenched when he hit deep. His hand slid between you, thumb circling your clit in slick strokes while he kept that unhurried rhythm. Tears built in his eyes again but he kept them from falling where you could see, pressing his face into the crook of your neck instead.

You came first, trembling beneath him, crying out his name as your walls pulsed around his length. The feeling dragged him right after you. He thrust deep one last time and stayed there, spilling inside you in thick, warm pulses, hips jerking with every wave. He kept moving slowly through it, drawing it out, filling you completely.

When it ended, he stayed buried inside you, arms wrapped tight around your body. Silent tears slipped down his cheeks. He hid them against your neck, shoulders shaking just slightly as he held you like you might vanish at any second. The love he’d carried since childhood poured out in those quiet tears. He didn’t let you see. He couldn’t. Not tonight.

He stayed like that for a long time, breathing you in, feeling your heartbeat against his chest. Tomorrow Legacy Day would come. Tomorrow you might sign or you might not. But tonight you were here, warm and real and wrapped around him.

“I can’t lose you,” he whispered so softly you might not have heard it. “I won’t.”

He eventually pulled out gently, rolling to the side and pulling you against his chest. His arms stayed locked around you all night, one leg thrown over yours like even in sleep he refused to let go. The lantern burned low. Outside, the campus slept under the weight of destiny.

But in your dorm, Satoru Gojo held the only person who had ever truly mattered to him, heart still raw, body spent, tears dried on his skin where you couldn’t see them.

One night wasn’t enough. But it was all he had asked for.

And for those few hours, it felt like everything.

The grand hall buzzed with nervous energy on Legacy Day. Students filled the rows in their finest clothes—gowns, tailored coats, crowns and tiaras polished to perfection. Satoru Gojo stood near the front in a crisp white suit that hugged his frame perfectly, the fabric gleaming under the enchanted lights. His white hair was tamed for once, swept back neatly instead of its usual wild mess. He looked every bit the prince he was supposed to be.

But inside, his stomach twisted. His hands felt clammy. He kept glancing across the aisle to where you sat, dressed up and beautiful in the front row. Every time your eyes met, his chest ached. You hadn’t given him an answer. Not after last night. Not after he had kissed you, confessed, and buried himself inside you like the world was ending.

He was supposed to sign second, right after Sukuna.

Headmaster Grimm called the first name. Ryomen Sukuna stepped onto the stage in his true form—four arms, two faces, monstrous and unapologetic. The hall quieted. Satoru watched, breath tight, as Sukuna approached the Storybook of Legends. The quill hovered in one of his hands.

The entire hall seemed to hold its breath.

Sukuna looked down at the book for a long second. Then he placed the quill down with a deliberate click. His voice rang out, loud and clear.

“I won’t sign it.”

Gasps rippled through the crowd. Grimm’s face tightened. “Mr. Sukuna, this is not a choice—”

“I said I won’t,” Sukuna cut him off, the second face echoing with a growl. “I’m not accepting the beauty they want to force on me. Not Yorozu. Not anyone. My story ends here if it has to. But it ends on my terms.”

Silence crashed over the hall.

Satoru’s heart pounded so hard he could hear it in his ears. A full minute stretched out, thick and unbearable. No one moved. No one breathed. He waited, just like everyone else, for Sukuna to start fading—shimmering out of existence like all the old warnings promised.

But nothing happened.

Sukuna remained solid on the stage, four arms relaxed, two faces calm. The seconds ticked by. One minute passed. Then more. Still nothing. No disappearance. Just Sukuna, real and defiant.

A quiet murmur spread through the crowd, growing into stunned whispers. Satoru felt something crack open inside his chest. His eyes subtly grew shinier, a glassy sheen he tried to blink away as he turned his head across the aisle.

You were already looking at him.

Your gaze locked with his, wide and full of the same stunned hope. For the first time in weeks, Satoru felt the crushing weight on his lungs lift, even if only a little. If Sukuna could refuse and stay… maybe the rules weren’t absolute. Maybe you didn’t have to disappear.

His hands trembled at his sides. He wanted to run to you right then, pull you into his arms like he had last night, and beg you one more time. But his name was called next.

“Next—Satoru Gojo.”

The hall quieted again as he walked up the steps. His white suit felt too tight now. Every eye was on him. He stopped in front of the Storybook, staring at the golden pages. The quill waited.

He thought of last night—your body under his, the way you whispered his name, the tears he hid in your neck. He thought of six-year-old you laughing in the garden when he promised to marry you someday. He thought of a world without you in it and felt sick.

Satoru picked up the quill. His fingers shook.

He looked out into the audience again, straight at you. Your eyes were shiny too, lips slightly parted.

For a long moment he said nothing. The pressure of destiny, of years believing in the script, warred with the raw fear of losing the only person he had ever truly loved.

He set the quill down without signing.

A new wave of gasps filled the hall.

Satoru’s voice came out steady, though his heart raced. “I won’t sign either. Not if it means forcing her into a prison just so I can follow some perfect ending.”

Grimm looked stunned. The silence returned, heavier this time.

Satoru stepped back from the podium, eyes never leaving yours. The fear was still there—sharp and real—but so was the fragile spark of hope Sukuna had just proven possible.

He walked off the stage, straight toward you. Students parted as he moved down the aisle in his white suit, hair starting to fall out of place again. When he reached you, he didn’t care who was watching. He pulled you up gently and wrapped his arms around you, burying his face in your hair for a brief second.

“We’ll figure it out,” he whispered, voice thick with emotion. “Together. I’m not losing you. Not today. Not ever.”

You held him back just as tightly. Around you, the Legacy Day ceremony continued in chaos, but for Satoru Gojo, the only story that mattered was the one where you stayed.

You lay tangled in the sheets with him, skin still warm, breaths slowing. His normal form was pressed against your side—two arms, one face, the black tattoos across his chest and shoulders stark against the pale sheets. One of his hands rested heavy on your hip, thumb tracing lazy circles that weren’t quite absentminded. The other arm was tucked under his head, red eyes half-lidded as he stared at the ceiling.

Neither of you spoke for a long minute. That was how it usually went after. The quiet always felt heavier than the rest of it.

Sukuna shifted first, voice low and rough like he’d just woken up from a nap instead of everything that came before. “You’re still here.”

You turned your head to look at him. “Yeah. Didn’t feel like leaving yet.”

He snorted, the sound almost amused. “Most people would’ve been gone by now. Smart ones, anyway.”

“I’m not most people, you of all people should know that.” you said, keeping your tone light even though your chest felt tight. You weren’t supposed to be here at all. Not like this. Cupids didn’t stay. Cupids didn’t get involved. Your father Eros had drilled that into you since you were old enough to understand what your arrows actually did—travel between universes, nudge souls together, spark what was meant to be. Never for yourself. Never permanently, at least.

But Sukuna had been different from the moment you’d crossed into this universe a few months back. You’d come to fix something small, a side character that refused to accept their true match, according to the storybook of legends. Gecko? No... Geta..? Whatever. The guy with the weird bangs. Instead you’d run into Sukuna in the library archives, arguing with some poor librarian about cursed texts. One conversation turned into another, turned into stolen moments in empty classrooms, turned into this—secret, messy, impossible.

He rolled onto his side, facing you fully now. The movement made the sheets slip lower on his waist. “You say that every time. Then you disappear for a week to go play matchmaker in some other fairy-tale hellhole.”

“It’s my job,” you reminded him, though the words felt flatter than usual. “I don’t get to pick where the threads pull me.”

Sukuna’s eyes narrowed, that familiar flicker of irritation crossing his face. “Threads. Destiny. Bullshit. You act like you’re above it all until you’re under me.”

Heat crept up your neck, but you didn’t look away. “Careful. Someone might hear you being almost poetic.”

He barked a short laugh, the sound genuine enough to loosen something in your ribs. “Don’t push it. I’ll grow the extra arms just to strangle you with them.”

“You wouldn’t,” you said, smiling despite yourself. “You like having me around too much.”

There it was—the tension again, the one that wasn’t just physical. It hung between you like smoke. Sukuna didn’t do feelings. Not openly. He was the son of Beauty and the Beast in this twisted Ever After retelling, cursed with a beast form that most students avoided like the plague. Four arms, two faces, that monstrous beauty that made people whisper “villain” even when he walked the halls in his more human shape. He played into it sometimes, just to watch them scatter. But with you he didn’t have to.

You reached out, brushing a strand of pink hair from his forehead. Your fingers lingered. “How long do we have before someone comes looking for you?”

“Long enough.” He caught your wrist, not hard, but firm. His grip was warm. “Gojo’s probably still in the training fields showing off. Geto’s with him, pretending he’s not bored. They won’t come knocking unless they need me to break something.”

You hummed, letting him hold your wrist. “They know about us?”

Sukuna’s mouth twitched. “They suspect. Gojo keeps making jokes about ‘the cupid who finally got shot by her own arrow.’ Annoying bastard keeps bugging me about 'following my destiny'.”

That pulled a real laugh from you, quiet and breathless. “He’s not wrong, technically.”

The humor faded fast. Sukuna’s expression shifted, something darker sliding in. “You’re not supposed to fall in love, right? That’s what you told me the first time.”

You swallowed. “Yeah.”

“And yet here you are.” His voice dropped lower. “In my bed. Again.”

The words landed like stones in still water. You pulled your wrist free gently, sitting up against the headboard. The sheets pooled around your waist. “It’s complicated.”

“No shit.” He stayed lying down, watching you with those sharp eyes. One of his hands came up to rest on your knee. “You think I don’t notice the way you look at the door every time we finish? Like you’re waiting for the universe to yank you out.”

You didn’t answer right away. The room felt smaller, the air thicker. Outside, you could hear faint voices from the quad—students heading to afternoon classes, laughter echoing off the stone walls. Someone was practicing spells nearby; a burst of pink sparks lit up the gap in the curtains for a second.

“I don’t want to leave,” you said finally. Honest, at least. “But I have to. There are people out there whose stories I’m supposed to fix. Matches that won’t happen without me.”

Sukuna sat up then, the movement fluid, almost predatory even in his normal form. He leaned in close, forehead nearly touching yours. “And what about my story? Or yours? You ever think maybe you’re fucking with the wrong one by staying here?”

Your heart stuttered. “Sukuna...”

“Don’t.” He cut you off, but there was no real bite. Just tiredness. “I’m not asking you to stay forever. I’m not that stupid. But don’t pretend this is nothing.”

The silence stretched again. You could feel the pull already—the faint itch at the back of your mind that meant another universe was calling. A couple in distress somewhere, hearts out of sync. You pushed it down, hard.

He noticed. Of course he did. “There it is. That look.”

“I’m sorry,” you whispered.

Sukuna exhaled through his nose, then surprised you by pulling you back down with him. Not for more, just to hold. Two arms wrapped around you, solid and warm. “Shut up. Don’t apologize. Makes it worse.”

You buried your face against his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart. It was strong, a little too fast still. “You’re an asshole for making this hard.”

“Yeah, well. Comes with the territory.” His voice rumbled under your ear. “Beast blood and all that.”

A small smile tugged at your lips. “Your mom would be disappointed if she knew you were sleeping with a traveling cupid instead of finding some proper Ever After princess.”

“My mother can choke on her own rose petals,” he muttered. “She’s the one who passed down the curse. Least I can do is enjoy the parts that aren’t fur and claws.”

You lifted your head just enough to look at him. “You know I like both forms.”

His eyes softened, just a fraction. “Don’t get sappy on me now.”

“I’m not.” But you were, a little. The humor was your shield, the same way his sarcasm was his. “Though if you shift right now I might have to rethink that. Four arms take up a lot of bed space.”

Sukuna chuckled, the sound low and real. “Tempting. I could pin you down properly.”

“Later,” you said, and meant it. For now, this was enough—the quiet, the shared warmth, the fragile bubble you’d built in secret.

But the bubble always popped.

A knock sounded on the door, sharp and insistent. Both of you froze.

“Sukuna! You in there, man?” Gojo’s voice, bright and way too loud for the hallway. “We’ve got that group project thing with the destiny scrolls. Geto’s already complaining about carrying your dead weight.”

Sukuna cursed under his breath. “Fuck off, Gojo.”

“Aww, is that any way to talk to your favorite blindfolded menace?” Gojo laughed from the other side. “Come on, I can sense two heartbeats in there.”

You bit your lip to keep from laughing. Sukuna’s face was a mix of annoyance and reluctant amusement. He called back, “Give me ten minutes.”

“Five!” Gojo sing-songed. “And tell your mysterious guest I said hi. Cupid’s arrow finally hit the cursed beast, huh?”

The footsteps retreated, but not before you heard Geto’s quieter voice muttering something about “privacy wards next time.”

Sukuna dropped his head back against the pillow, groaning. “I’m going to kill them both.”

“You won’t,” you said, already sliding out of the bed and reaching for your clothes. The air felt cooler without him against you. “They’re your friends. Sort of.”

“Annoyances,” he corrected, but there was no heat. He watched you dress, eyes tracking every movement. “You coming to the quad later?”

“Maybe.” You paused at the edge of the bed, leaning down to kiss him once—quick, soft. “Depends if the universe yanks me away first.”

His hand caught the back of your neck before you could pull away fully. The kiss deepened for a second, enough to make your pulse jump. When he let go, his voice was quieter. “Don’t disappear without saying something this time.”

“I won’t.”

You slipped out the door a minute later, heart still racing. The hallway of the dorm was empty now, afternoon light slanting through narrow windows. Portraits of old legends watched you pass—Snow White, Cinderella, all the classics mixed with newer faces. Your steps echoed softly on the stone floor.

Outside, the campus buzzed with life. Students in varied outfits hurried between buildings—some in full royal regalia, others in casual jeans and hoodies that somehow still screamed “destined for greatness.” You spotted a group of fairies practicing flight maneuvers over the fountain. A wolf-boy from one of the darker tales was arguing with a princess near the library steps.

You leaned against a pillar, trying to steady yourself. The pull was stronger now, a gentle tug behind your ribs. Another universe, another pair that needed your help. But your mind kept drifting back to Sukuna’s room, to the way his arms had felt around you, to the rare softness in his red eyes when he thought you weren’t looking.

This wasn’t supposed to happen. Cupids didn’t fall. They didn’t stay. They didn’t build secrets in college dorms with boys who could turn into beasts at will.

And yet.

You touched your lips, still warm from his. A small, tired smile crossed your face.

The quad filled with more noise as classes let out. You straightened up, smoothing your clothes. Sukuna would be out soon, probably dragging Gojo and Geto into some half-assed argument about destiny versus free will. You could already picture it—the three of them taking up too much space on a bench, Sukuna scowling while Gojo laughed too loud and Geto mediated with that calm smile that hid everything.

You weren’t sure if you’d join them. Not today. The job called.

But you’d be back. You always came back.

For now, you walked toward the edge of campus, where the veil between universes thinned just enough for someone like you to slip through. The air shimmered faintly as you approached, like heat off pavement. One last glance over your shoulder at the west tower, where Sukuna’s window was still dark behind the curtains.

Your chest ached with something you didn’t have a name for.

Love wasn’t meant for you.

But it was too late to pretend otherwise.

The night air was cool against your skin as you slipped back through the veil, the shimmer fading behind you like it had never been there. Your duties had taken longer than expected—two universes, three quick fixes. A hesitant knight and a stubborn baker in one, a pair of rival heirs in another who kept missing each other’s signals. You’d done what you were meant to do: nudged the threads, sparked the right feelings, watched the first real smiles break across their faces. It should have felt satisfying. It usually did.

Instead, your chest felt heavy the whole time, like something was lodged there that wouldn’t move.

Ever After High’s college campus was quieter now, most students already back in their dorms or out at the late-night study spots near the enchanted fountains. The stone paths glowed faintly under moonlight, the old towers casting long shadows across the quad. You made your way straight to the west tower, feet moving on instinct. No one stopped you. No one even noticed. That was the advantage of being an outsider here.

Sukuna’s door was unlocked, like he’d been waiting. You pushed it open without knocking.

He was in his normal form, sitting on the edge of the bed with his elbows on his knees, staring at the floor. The room smelled the same—wood and incense and him. A single lamp cast warm light across the walls, leaving most of the corners dark. When he heard the door, his head lifted. Red eyes met yours, and something in his shoulders eased, just a fraction.

“You came back,” he said. No greeting, no question. Just fact.

“Yeah.” You closed the door behind you, leaning against it for a second. The wood was solid under your palms. “Took longer than I thought. But I’m here.”

He nodded once, then patted the space beside him. You crossed the room and sat, close enough that your thigh pressed against his. The silence wasn’t uncomfortable, but it wasn’t light either. After the day you’d had, it felt necessary.

Sukuna spoke first, voice low. “How were the love fixes?”

“Fine.” You shrugged, picking at a loose thread on the blanket. “People got what they needed. Matches clicked. The usual.”

He watched you for a beat. “You don’t sound happy about it.”

“I am,” you said quickly. Then softer, “I think. It’s just… every time I do it, I come back here and it feels different. Like I’m cheating the rules.”

His hand found yours, fingers threading together without asking. His grip was warm, calloused from whatever training or fighting he did when you weren’t around. “Rules are for people who care about them.”

You let out a small breath, almost a laugh. “Easy for you to say. You’re supposed to be the beast who gets tamed by beauty. I’m not even from this story. I’m not supposed to… claim anything for myself.”

The word hung there. Claim. Love. You weren’t meant to keep any of it. Cupids traveled, influenced, left. Falling in love was like stealing from the people you were supposed to help. Selfish. Dangerous.

Sukuna squeezed your hand once. “Too late for that.”

Your throat tightened. “I know.”

He shifted closer, one arm sliding around your waist to pull you against his side. The contact helped, a little. His body was solid, steady in a way the universes you visited never were. “Stay tonight,” he said. Not a demand. Closer to a request, which was rare for him.

You nodded, resting your head on his shoulder. The tension from the day started to bleed out, replaced by something warmer. For a while, neither of you moved. Just breathing together in the quiet room, the faint sounds of the campus filtering in—distant laughter from another dorm, the soft hoot of an owl outside the window.

Eventually Sukuna spoke again, his voice rougher this time. “There’s something I need to tell you.”

You lifted your head, searching his face. His expression was serious, the kind that usually meant he was about to say something that would shift everything. “What is it?”

He looked away for a second, jaw tight, then back at you. “Legacy Day is coming up. The whole ceremony with the Storybook of Legends. Headmaster Grimm’s going to make everyone sign their destinies like good little puppets.”

You knew about Legacy Day. It was one of the biggest events at Ever After High, even in the college wing. Students stood up, declared their roles, signed the book that bound them to their parents’ stories. Follow your destiny or… well, the rumors were clear. Disappear. Fade out like you never existed in this world.

Sukuna continued, eyes hardening. “I’m not signing it.”

The words hit you like cold water. You sat up straighter, pulling back just enough to see him fully. “What?”

“I’m not doing it,” he repeated, slower, like he wanted you to hear every syllable. “I won’t accept Yorozu as my ‘beauty.’ Or anyone else they try to shove at me. I’m not playing the beast who gets saved by some perfect princess and lives happily ever after in a cage.”

Your heart started pounding, fast and uneven. Panic crept in, sharp and immediate. “Sukuna, you can’t. If you don’t follow your destiny—”

“I know what Grimm says,” he cut in, voice flat. “Sign or disappear. Poof. Gone from the story. But I’m not letting some dusty book decide what I am. I’ve got the curse already—two forms, four arms when I want them, the whole monstrous package. I’m not adding chains on top of it.”

You stood up without thinking, pacing a few steps across the small room. The floorboards creaked under your feet. “This isn’t just some choice. People have tried before. Rebels. They talk about it in whispers—the ones who refused and then… stopped being here. One day they’re walking the halls, the next they’re not. Like the world forgets them.”

He watched you pace, calm in a way that made your panic worse. “I’m not most people.”

“That doesn’t matter!” Your voice rose, then dropped again when you remembered the thin walls. You turned back to him, hands clenched at your sides. “I’ve seen how these stories work. If you don’t sign, you could vanish. Completely. And I… I don’t know if I could follow you wherever that goes. I travel universes, but this place has rules. Tight ones. If you disappear from here, you might not go anywhere else for me to find again.”

The fear was real now, sitting heavy in your stomach. You’d spent the evening granting love to strangers, making sure their stories played out right. The idea of Sukuna’s story ending because he refused to bend—it made everything feel fragile. Like the ground under your feet could crack open any second.

Sukuna got up too, crossing the space between you in two strides. He caught your arms gently, stopping the pacing. His touch was careful, thumbs brushing your skin. “Hey. Look at me.”

You did, meeting those red eyes that always saw too much. There was no fear in them. Just stubborn resolve mixed with something softer when he looked at you.

“I’m telling you this because I want you to know where I stand,” he said quietly. “Not because I want you to freak out. I’m not signing for Yorozu or anyone. My story isn’t theirs to write. And if that means I risk disappearing… then fuck it. Better than living trapped in someone else’s ending.”

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, hot and unexpected. You blinked them back hard. “You idiot. You absolute asshole. Do you even get what that means? I come back here every time because of you. Because this stupid secret thing we have feels more real than anything I’ve ever fixed in other worlds. If you disappear, what am I supposed to do? Keep traveling like nothing happened? Pretend I didn’t break my own rules for someone who chose to vanish?”

His expression softened, just a little. One hand moved up to cup the side of your face, thumb wiping at the moisture gathering under your eye. “You’re not supposed to fall in love. Remember? That’s what you keep saying. But you did anyway. Same as me.”

The words made your chest ache worse. You leaned into his touch without meaning to. “That’s the problem. I did. And now I’m terrified because I can’t fix this one. I can’t nudge destiny here. Not when it’s yours.”

Sukuna pulled you closer, wrapping both arms around you. You let him, burying your face against his chest. His heartbeat was steady under your cheek, strong like always. The scent of him filled your nose—familiar, grounding.

“I’m not disappearing tonight,” he murmured against your hair. “And I’m not signing tomorrow or the next day. We’ve got time before Legacy Day. Maybe I’ll figure something out. Or maybe the book can go to hell.”

You laughed once, shaky and wet. “You make it sound so simple.”

“It’s not.” His voice rumbled through you. “But I’m not letting them decide for me. Not when I’ve got this.” He squeezed you tighter for emphasis. “Whatever this is between us. It’s mine. Not the story’s.”

The panic didn’t leave completely. It sat there, coiled tight in your ribs, waiting. But being held like this helped push it back, even if just for now. You wrapped your arms around his waist, holding on like he might slip away if you let go.

After a minute, you spoke into his shirt, voice muffled. “Promise me you won’t do anything stupid before we talk about it more.”

“No promises,” he said, but there was a hint of humor in it. The kind that told you he was trying to lighten the weight. “But I if i decide otherwise... I won’t sign without telling you first. That’s the best I’ve got.”

You nodded against him. It wasn’t enough, but it was something.

He guided you both back toward the bed, sitting down and pulling you with him until you were curled against his side again. The lamp light made everything feel smaller, more intimate. The outside world—the campus, the legacies, the threats of disappearing—felt farther away.

“You’re shaking,” he noted quietly, one hand rubbing slow circles on your back.

“Am not,” you muttered, even though you were, a little.

Sukuna huffed, almost a laugh. “Liar.”

You tilted your head up to look at him. His face was close, the tattoos on his skin dark in the low light. There was no beast form tonight—just him, the version most people never got to see without the extra arms or the second face. The monstrous beauty was there underneath, but right now it was quiet.

“I hate that I can’t protect you from this,” you whispered.

“You don’t need to.” His forehead rested against yours. “I’m the one with the curse, remember? I can handle a little disappearing act if it comes to that.”

“Don’t joke about it.”

“Not joking.” But his tone gentled. “Just… stay here tonight. Don’t think about the other universes or the book or any of it. Just this.”

You closed your eyes, letting the words settle. The tension was still there, thick in the air between heartbeats, but so was the warmth of him next to you. The quiet intimacy of the room, the way his breathing matched yours after a while.

Outside, the other children of fairy tales slept under the moon. Inside, you held onto each other in the secret space you’d carved out, knowing the clock was ticking toward Legacy Day. Knowing one of you might have to break rules that had stood for generations.

You weren’t supposed to claim love for yourself.

But lying there with Sukuna’s arm around you, his quiet presence chasing away the worst of the panic, you couldn’t imagine giving it back.

The night stretched on, slow and heavy with everything unsaid. You didn’t sleep much. Neither did he. But you stayed, tangled together, breathing the same air.

For now, that was enough to fight the fear.

The days after that conversation blurred together in a haze of quiet tension. You stayed with Sukuna that night, bodies close but minds elsewhere, the weight of Legacy Day pressing down like an invisible hand. His refusal to sign sat between you every time you looked at him. He didn’t push, didn’t demand answers. He just held you tighter when the silence grew too loud, his body warm and steady against yours.

But the fear kept building. You loved him so much it hurt to breathe sometimes. The thought of him vanishing—gone from this world, erased like a name scratched out of a book—twisted something deep inside you. You couldn’t fix it with an arrow. You couldn’t nudge destiny the way you did for strangers. So the next morning, before the campus woke fully, you slipped out of his dorm while he was still asleep. You left a short note on the pillow: “I need some time. I’ll come back. Don’t do anything stupid.”

Then you stepped through the veil.

The first place you landed was loud and colorful, full of teenagers who looked like they’d walked out of horror movies but acted like regular high school kids. Monster High, they called it. The school sat in a town called New Salem, where monsters of every kind went to class together. You wandered the halls for a couple of days, invisible to most unless you wanted to be seen. Frankie Stein was in the middle of a science project gone wrong, bolts sparking as she laughed with her friends. Draculaura was planning some big party, her pink and black outfits bright against the lockers. Clawdeen argued with Lagoona about fashion choices near the coffin-shaped vending machines.

You watched a ghoul and a normie awkwardly flirt near the creepateria, their nervousness obvious. With a small flick of your power, you helped the thread along—just enough so their eyes met a little longer, a smile lingered. It worked. They started talking easier. But the satisfaction you usually felt was muted. Every match you sparked reminded you of Sukuna’s red eyes and the stubborn set of his jaw when he said he wouldn’t accept anyone else as his beauty.

You didn’t stay long. The energy there was chaotic and fun, but it made the ache sharper.

Next came a brighter, sunnier world. Malibu, with its big pink Dreamhouse overlooking the beach. Barbie and her sisters were in the middle of some weekend adventure—planning a road trip or filming a vlog, you weren’t sure. The house was huge and perfect, full of laughter and easy conversations. Ken showed up with a surfboard, grinning as he and Barbie talked about nothing important. Their friends gathered in the living room, music playing, everyone moving like life was one long, lighthearted day.

You sat on the edge of the scene for an afternoon, helping a quiet side character who kept missing signals from someone she liked. A gentle push, a shared joke at the right moment, and things clicked. They laughed together by the pool. It should have felt good. Instead you kept thinking about Sukuna’s bed back in the west tower, the way his voice dropped when he told you he wouldn’t sign. How he’d risk disappearing rather than be paired with Yorozu or anyone the story tried to force on him.

The love you felt for him sat heavy in your chest the whole time. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. Cupids granted love. They didn’t hoard it.

After a few more quick stops in random places—quiet villages with budding romances, bustling cities where two strangers kept almost meeting—you couldn’t keep running. The pull to talk to someone who understood became too strong. You found a quiet pocket between universes, a neutral space that felt like soft clouds and endless warm light. Your father was already there, waiting like he knew you’d come.

Eros looked the same as always. Tall, with that effortless grace, wings folded neatly behind him. His expression was calm, a little knowing, the golden bow he carried slung over one shoulder. He didn’t wear the dramatic robes some stories gave him—just simple clothes that made him look more like a concerned parent than the god of desire.

“You’ve been busy,” he said as you approached. His voice was gentle, no judgment in it. “Jumping around more than usual.”

You sat on the edge of what felt like a marble bench that wasn’t really there. The space around you shimmered faintly. “I needed to clear my head.”

Eros settled beside you, close enough that his shoulder brushed yours. “Because of the boy in that fairy-tale college.”

It wasn’t a question. You nodded anyway, staring at your hands. “Sukuna. He’s… he’s the son of Beauty and the Beast there. He has this curse—two forms, one more monstrous than the other. And he’s refusing to follow the destiny they want for him. He won’t sign the Storybook of Legends. He says he won’t accept the ‘beauty’ they’re trying to pair him with. Not Yorozu, not anyone.”

Your voice caught a little. “If he doesn’t sign, he might disappear. Just… gone. Like the world forgets he was ever part of it. And I can’t stop thinking about it. I love him, Dad. So much that it scares me. I’m not supposed to do that. I’m supposed to help other people find it, not keep it for myself.”

Eros was quiet for a moment, watching the shifting lights around you. When he spoke, his tone was even, warm in a way that eased some of the knot in your stomach. “Being a cupid was never meant to be a curse, you know. I never wanted that for you.”

You looked up at him, surprised. “But the rules—travel, influence, don’t fall yourself. You taught me that since I was small.”

“I taught you caution,” he corrected softly. “Because the work can swallow you if you’re not careful. But love isn’t something we hand out and then deny ourselves forever. I fell in love once, remember? With Psyche. It wasn’t easy. It wasn’t part of any plan. But it was real. And it gave us you.”

He reached over and took your hand, squeezing once. “You’re allowed to love, kid. You’re allowed to want something for yourself. I see how heavy it’s been on you lately—jumping universes like you’re running from it. That’s not what this life is for.”

Tears stung your eyes again. You didn’t bother hiding them this time. “But what if I choose him and he disappears? What if my staying makes it worse? He’s willing to risk everything because he doesn’t want anyone but me. He told me that. And it terrifies me becuase I feel the same. I don’t want him with anyone else either.”

Eros smiled, small and genuine. “Then that’s a good sign. Not many would choose to disappear rather than settle for a story that doesn’t fit. He sounds like someone who knows his own heart. I’m glad you found him. Someone willing to fight the script for you—that’s rare, even across universes.”

The words settled over you, warm and unexpected. You let out a shaky breath, the panic easing just enough to breathe properly. “I left him a note. Told him I’d come back. But I’ve been gone a few days now. What if Legacy Day is closer than I think? What if he does something before I get there?”

“Then go back,” Eros said simply. “Talk to him. Be honest about what you feel. The universes will keep turning. There will always be people who need a nudge toward love. But you don’t have to give up your own to do that work.”

You sat with that for a while, the quiet space around you feeling less heavy. The conversation didn’t solve everything—the fear was still there, coiled tight—but it loosened the guilt that had been choking you. Loving Sukuna wasn’t stealing from others. It wasn’t breaking some unbreakable law. It was just… yours.

“I miss him,” you admitted quietly. “Even when I’m fixing matches somewhere else, my mind keeps going back to his dorm room. The way he looks at me when no one else is around. The way he shifts forms sometimes just to hold me with all four arms because he knows I don’t mind the beast side.”

Eros chuckled, the sound light. “Sounds like he’s got it bad too. Good. Means it’s balanced.”

You managed a small laugh through the leftover tears. “He’s an asshole sometimes. Stubborn. Says the most blunt things like they’re nothing. But when it’s just us… it feels right. Even with the secrets and the whole college full of lengends watching.”

Your father stood then, offering you a hand up. “Go back when you’re ready. Tell him how you feel. And if the story tries to take him away, fight for what you’ve built. You’re my daughter. You’ve got more power in your heart than most realize.”

The words stayed with you as you hugged him goodbye, the embrace brief but solid. When you stepped away, the veil opened again, pulling you toward the familiar stone towers of Ever After High.

You didn’t go straight to his dorm this time. You wandered the campus first as evening fell, letting the night air cool your face. The quad was quieter, a few students studying under glowing lanterns. The west tower loomed ahead, windows lit in some rooms. Yours—his—had a faint light behind the curtains.

Your heart beat faster the closer you got. The love you felt for him hadn’t faded while you were gone. If anything, it had grown sharper, clearer. You weren’t supposed to claim it for yourself, but you had. And hearing your father say it was okay made the choice feel less like a mistake and more like something worth risking for.

You climbed the stairs to his floor, footsteps echoing softly. The door to his room was closed, but you could sense him inside. No extra presences. Just Sukuna.

You knocked once, light but clear.

The door opened almost immediately. He stood there in his normal form, tattoos dark against his skin, red eyes widening slightly when he saw you. Relief flashed across his face, followed quickly by that familiar guarded look.

“You’re back,” he said, voice rough like he hadn’t used it much while you were gone.

“Yeah.” You stepped inside without waiting for an invitation. The room smelled like him, the sheets still rumpled from the last time. “I’m sorry I left like that. I needed to think. To talk to someone.”

He closed the door, leaning against it as he watched you. “And?”

You turned to face him fully, the tension from the past days rushing back but mixed now with something steadier. “I love you. A lot. More than I thought I was allowed to. I went to other places—Monster High with all its monsters trying to fit in, that bright Barbie world full of easy adventures—and every time I helped someone else find their match, I kept wishing it was us. That we could have something without the fear of you disappearing.”

Sukuna pushed off the door and crossed to you, stopping close enough that you could feel the warmth from his body. One hand came up to brush your arm. “I didn’t sign anything while you were gone. Didn’t even go near the damn book.”

“I know you wouldn’t,” you said, voice softer. “But the thought of losing you… it made me run. I talked to my father. Eros. He told me being a cupid isn’t supposed to be a curse. That I’m allowed to love. And he’s glad I found someone willing to disappear rather than be with anyone but me.”

Sukuna’s eyes searched yours, the hardness in them cracking a little. “He said that?”

You nodded. “Yeah. So I’m not running anymore. Not from this. If you’re going to risk everything by refusing the story, then I’m in it with you. However long we have.”

He pulled you against him then, both arms wrapping around you tight. His chin rested on top of your head for a moment, breath steady. “Good. Because I’m not changing my mind. No Yorozu. No forced beauty. Just this. You.”

The atmosphere in the room shifted, the earlier angst easing into something warmer, laced with the same quiet humor you both clung to. You tilted your head up, meeting his gaze. “You’re still an idiot for making me worry like that.”

He smirked, the expression familiar and grounding. “Takes one to know one. Leaving a note and vanishing to monster school? Real smooth.”

You laughed once, the sound shaky but real. “It had vampires and werewolves. You would’ve hated the drama.”

“Probably.” His hand moved to your back, rubbing slow circles. “But I’m glad you came back.”

“Me too.”

You stayed like that for a long while, the night deepening outside the window. The campus slept on, legacies and destinies waiting for morning. But in this secret space, with Sukuna’s arms around you and the echo of your father’s words still fresh, the tension felt bearable. The love you’d claimed for yourself—no longer a guilty secret—sat between you like something solid.

There would be more hard conversations. Legacy Day was still coming. The risk of him disappearing hadn’t gone away. But for tonight, you held onto each other, breaths syncing in the quiet dorm room, the romantic pull between you stronger than any storybook rule.

You loved him. He loved you back, enough to burn his own destiny if it meant keeping what you had.

That was all you needed to face whatever came next.

The door locked behind you, and the room felt smaller, warmer, the faint lamp light casting soft shadows across Sukuna’s face. He didn’t say anything else. He just stepped forward, cupped your face with both hands, and kissed you.

It wasn’t soft. It was days of missing you poured into one moment—hungry, desperate, a little angry at the time apart. You kissed him back just as hard, hands fisting in his shirt, pulling him closer until there was no space left between you. His mouth moved against yours, tongue sliding in, claiming in that blunt way he always did. You tasted the relief in it, the yearning he’d buried for almost two weeks.

He walked you backward until your legs hit the bed. One smooth motion and he laid you down, following right after, his body covering yours. The mattress dipped under your combined weight. Sukuna broke the kiss only long enough to look at you, red eyes dark with want.

“Missed you,” he muttered, voice rough. “Every damn night.”

Then his hands were on you, pulling at your clothes. He undressed you slowly at first, like he wanted to savor it, peeling off layers until you were bare beneath him. His fingers traced your skin, not gentle exactly, but reverent in their own rough way. He kissed down your neck, across your collarbone, mouth hot and insistent. When he reached your chest he lingered, lips and tongue worshiping every inch like he was trying to memorize you after the absence.

You arched into him, breath catching. “Sukuna…”

He didn’t answer with words. Instead he shifted, letting his true form bleed through just enough—four arms now, the second face appearing on the side of his head, monstrous beauty sharp and overwhelming in the dim room. Two hands pinned your wrists above your head. Another pair slid under your hips, lifting you slightly as he settled between your legs. The extra limbs made everything feel more—more pressure, more touch, more of him surrounding you.

He kissed you again, deeper, while one hand worked between your bodies, fingers teasing until you were gasping against his mouth. The tension from the weeks apart cracked open into something raw and urgent. When he finally pushed inside you, it was rough, one hard thrust that made you moan loud enough to echo off the stone walls. He didn’t give you time to adjust. He started moving, deep and fast, hips snapping against yours with a rhythm that felt like punishment and apology all at once.

“Fuck,” he growled, the second face murmuring something low and filthy near your ear. “So good. Missed this. Missed you squeezing around my cocks.”

You couldn’t form full sentences. Just broken sounds, your body rocking with every thrust. His four arms held you exactly where he wanted—wrists pinned, hips lifted, one hand gripping your thigh hard enough to leave marks. The angle let him hit deep, the pace relentless. Sweat slicked your skin where you pressed together. The bed creaked under you, the old wooden frame protesting the force.

You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him closer. “Harder,” you breathed, the word slipping out between gasps.

He obliged, pace turning brutal. The sound of skin on skin filled the room, mixed with your moans and his low grunts. One of his hands left your wrist to slide between you, thumb circling in tight, rough strokes that had your vision blurring. Pleasure built fast and sharp, weeks of longing making everything more intense.

“Look at me,” he ordered, voice strained.

You did, meeting his red eyes and the second pair on the beast face. The monstrous beauty of him above you—tattoos shifting with muscle, extra arms flexing as he drove into you—sent another wave crashing through you. You came hard, clenching around him, a cry tearing from your throat.

Sukuna followed seconds later, burying himself deep with a rough groan, body shuddering as he spilled inside you. The extra arms tightened their hold, keeping you pressed together through the aftershocks.

For a long moment neither of you moved. Heavy breaths filled the quiet. He stayed inside you, forehead dropped to your shoulder, the second face brushing soft kisses along your neck in contrast to the roughness before.

“Stay,” he said finally, voice low and raw. “No more running.”

You nodded, still catching your breath, fingers threading through his pink hair. “No more running.”

He shifted back to his normal form slowly, two arms wrapping around you as he rolled to the side, pulling you with him. The sheets were tangled, the room smelling like sex and sweat and the familiar incense. You curled into his chest, heart still racing, the make-up sex leaving you both spent and closer than before.

The fear of Legacy Day still lingered at the edges, but for tonight it was pushed back by the warmth of his body and the quiet promise in the way he held you.

The room stayed quiet after, the kind of quiet that comes when everything heavy has been said with bodies instead of words. Sukuna stayed in his true form for a while longer, four arms wrapped around you like he could shield you from the morning that was coming too fast. You lay against his chest, skin sticky with sweat, breaths slowly evening out. One of his hands stroked down your back in slow, lazy lines. Another rested heavy on your hip. The second face had tucked itself close to your shoulder, breathing warm against your neck.

He didn’t let go all night.

Every time you shifted, he pulled you back in tighter. The bed was a mess of tangled sheets and limbs. The dorm room felt smaller, safer, the stone walls blocking out the rest of Ever After High. Outside, the campus was still dark, but you both knew tomorrow—Legacy Day—would arrive whether you wanted it or not.

Sukuna spoke sometime deep in the night, voice low and rough against your hair. “If I disappear tomorrow… this year with you was the best one I’ve had.”

Your throat tightened instantly. You pressed your face harder into his chest, feeling the steady thump of his heart under your cheek. “Don’t say that like it’s already decided.”

“It might be,” he said simply. No fear in his tone, just fact. “I’m not signing. I’m not taking some forced beauty they picked out. Yorozu or whoever else. I want this. You. Even if it ends with me blinking out of existence.”

You swallowed hard, fingers digging into his side. “I love you. I don’t want you gone.”

“I know.” One of his extra arms shifted, brushing hair from your face with surprising gentleness. “But if I have to choose between living in their story or having this thing with you… I pick this. Every time. Best year of my life. Wouldn’t trade it.”

The words settled heavy and warm in your chest, cracking something open. You cried a little then, silent tears soaking into his skin. He didn’t tell you to stop. Just held you closer, all four arms making a cage of warmth and strength around your body. His beast form felt protective tonight, monstrous beauty wrapped around you like a promise. You stayed like that until sleep finally pulled you under, tangled together so tight it was hard to tell where one of you ended and the other began.

Morning came too soon.

The campus was buzzing with stress by the time the sun rose fully. Students moved through the halls in clusters, voices hushed and tense. Legacy Day had arrived, the biggest ceremony of the year in the college wing. The grand hall had been transformed—long velvet banners in gold and deep crimson, the Storybook of Legends placed on a raised pedestal at the center of the stage like some sacred relic. Headmaster Grimm stood at the podium already, expression stern, checking the list of names with sharp eyes.

Everyone felt the weight. Some looked excited, ready to embrace their parents’ paths. Others looked pale, hands fidgeting with sleeves or destiny scrolls. Whispers rippled through the crowd about past rebels who had refused and simply… stopped being there the next semester. Gone. Erased.

You sat in the front row, heart hammering so hard it hurt. The seat felt too hard, the air too thick. Sukuna was supposed to go first. They always put the more volatile ones early, like the school wanted to get the risky signatures out of the way.

When his name was called, the hall quieted even more.

Ryomen Sukuna.

He walked across the stage in his true form—four arms, two faces, the full monstrous beauty on display. Tattoos shifted across his skin as he moved. Gasps and murmurs spread through the audience. Most students had only seen the normal version in classes. Seeing the beast openly like this felt like a statement. He didn’t shrink from it. He stood tall at the podium, red eyes scanning the crowd until they landed on you.

You met his gaze, hands clenched tight in your lap. Tears already threatened at the corners of your eyes. You loved him so much it felt like your chest might split open.

Headmaster Grimm cleared his throat, voice carrying through the hall with practiced authority. “Repeat after me. I, Ryomen Sukuna, son of the Beauty and the Beast—”

Sukuna’s voice cut in, deep and steady, repeating the beginning. “I, Ryomen Sukuna, son of the Beauty and the Beast—”

Grimm continued, “—do solemnly swear to follow my destined path, to accept the role written for me, and to sign my name in the Storybook of Legends, binding myself to the legacy of my parents.”

The quill hovered in Sukuna’s hand, the one on the far right arm. The entire hall seemed to hold its breath. You leaned forward slightly, almost crying now, the tears blurring the edges of your vision. This was it. The moment everything could end.

Sukuna looked down at the book for a long second. Then he placed the quill down on the podium with a deliberate click. His voice rang out clear, loud enough for every row to hear.

“I won’t sign it.”

A ripple of shock moved through the crowd. Whispers exploded instantly.

Grimm’s face tightened. “Mr. Sukuna, this is not a choice. You must—”

“I said I won’t,” Sukuna cut him off, the second face on the side of his head echoing the words with a lower growl. “I’m not accepting the beauty they want to force on me. Not Yorozu. Not anyone. My story ends here if it has to. But it ends on my terms.”

Silence crashed over the hall. A full minute stretched out, thick and unbearable. No one moved. No one breathed. You waited for it—the moment he would start to fade, to shimmer out of existence like the warnings always said. Your hands shook in your lap. Tears slipped down your cheeks now, hot and fast. The love you felt for him burned so bright it hurt, mixed with the terror of losing the only person who had ever made you want to stay in one place.

But nothing happened.

Sukuna didn’t disappear.

He stood there, four arms loose at his sides, two faces calm as the seconds ticked by. The silence dragged on. One minute. Then another breath. Still nothing. No fade. No erasure. Just Sukuna, solid and real on the stage.

He processed it slowly. You watched the realization hit him—shoulders relaxing a fraction, the tension in his jaw easing. A small, sharp smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth on the main face. The second face mirrored it with a low chuckle that carried across the quiet hall.

Without another word to Grimm, Sukuna turned and walked off the stage. His steps were steady, unhurried. The crowd parted instinctively as he moved down the aisle straight toward you.

You stood up on shaky legs, tears still falling. He reached you in seconds, all four arms moving at once. Two scooped under your thighs, lifting you clean off the ground. The other two wrapped around your back, holding you securely against his chest. Your arms went around his neck automatically, face burying into the warm skin there. He smelled like incense and sweat and home.

He started walking, carrying you out of the grand hall like it was the simplest thing in the world. Students stared. Some whispered. A few looked stunned, others almost hopeful. Sukuna didn’t care. He kept moving, strong and steady, through the heavy doors and out into the bright morning light of the campus quad.

The stone paths stretched ahead, towers rising around you. The air felt lighter out here, the weight of the ceremony cracking open. Sukuna’s grip on you stayed firm, one hand rubbing slow circles on your back while the others supported your weight.

“You didn’t disappear,” you whispered against his neck, voice thick with leftover tears and disbelief.

“Told you I wouldn’t play by their rules,” he muttered back, voice low enough for only you. “Guess the book doesn’t have as much power as they think. Or maybe refusing actually works when you mean it.”

You laughed once, wet and shaky, pressing a kiss to the side of his throat. “You’re still an idiot.”

“Your idiot.” He squeezed you tighter. “Best year of my life. And it’s not over.”

The quad was mostly empty, everyone still inside for the rest of the ceremony. Sunlight warmed the stone, birds calling from the enchanted trees near the library. Sukuna kept walking, no particular direction, just away from the hall and the expectations that had tried to swallow him.

As you passed a quieter corner near the fountain, two figures stood talking in low voices. A man with weird, long bangs that fell across one eye leaned against the stone edge, arms crossed. That Gecko guy... Beside him stood a girl with a mischievous smile and cat rars that shifted like they had a mind of their own. The man’s voice carried just enough for you to catch the words.

“…glad I ignored Cupid when she told me to stick to my destiny. Would’ve missed this.”

The girl laughed softly, leaning into his side. “Told you it was worth the risk.”

You smiled against Sukuna’s neck, the curve of your lips hidden in his skin. The words settled warm in your chest—a quiet echo, a small proof that breaking the script didn’t always end in erasure. Other stories were shifting too. Other hearts choosing their own paths.

Sukuna felt the smile. He tilted his head slightly, one of the faces brushing a kiss to your temple. “What?”

“Nothing,” you murmured, holding on tighter as he carried you further across the campus. “Just… happy.”

The towers of Ever After High rose behind you, the Storybook of Legends and its rules feeling smaller with every step. Legacy Day continued inside the hall, but out here, in the open air with Sukuna’s arms around you and the future unwritten, the pull between you felt stronger than any destiny ever could.

You loved him. He loved you back, enough to stand on that stage and refuse everything they offered.

And for the first time, it looked like the world might actually let you keep it.

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@/issysh3ll 4 dividers