Part 2 !! Zombie School Au That Yams Made Himself, Which Is Such A Power Move Tbh. Humanitys Strongest?

Part 2 !! Zombie school au that yams made himself, which is such a power move tbh. “Humanity’s strongest? Yeah he’s a janitor”

❬ 004 ❭ through my fault ⸝⸝ stories to be told

synopsis. desperate to find you a suitor to expand the kingdom, your mother finds ways to ensure that you rule in her image; even if that means breaking your relationship with your future husband.

genre. arranged marriage, royalty au, slow burn, +18

warnings. naoya zen'in

wc. 6.4K — a 30 minute read

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In the land of Colchis, where might and ambition reigned supreme, a new chapter in the kingdom's history was unfolding. The Zen’ins possessed a maritime realm known for its vast conquests and formidable armies, and they had set its sights on a coveted prize: the mystical and enigmatic Enchanted Forest, nestled between the boundaries of Colchis and Arcadia. The allure of this mystical forest, with its secrets and untold power, had stirred the hearts of Colchis’ rulers.

The pursuit of this treasured domain commenced with a grand vision — a vision that involved forging an alliance with the kingdom of Arcadia. By uniting these two mighty kingdoms, they would harness their collective strength and make a forceful claim on The Enchanted Forest. It was a bold and audacious plan, driven by a relentless determination to seize the forest and unlock its hidden potential.

At the center of this unfolding saga was Naoya Zen’in, a man whose ambition knew no bounds. His fervour for the beautiful princess of Arcadia burned brighter than any fire, so much so that he was willing to go to any lengths, even if it meant employing force, to win her hand. With alliances forming and ambitions soaring, the stage was set for a tale of power, desire, and the quest for the extraordinary.

As you present yourself in the grand hall, a wave of people surrounds you. The air is alive with the hum of conversations and the clinking of crystal glasses. It's an overwhelming sight, with guests elegantly dressed and mingling in small clusters. Your heart races with a mix of anticipation and trepidation, but at that moment, Nanami steps up beside you, his presence a reassuring anchor in the midst of the crowd. He leans in, his voice calm and steady, "Don’t worry, I’m here." The warmth in his eyes and the confidence in his tone ease your nerves.

Amidst the sea of faces, you catch sight of Kara. She practically glows with excitement as she notices you. With genuine enthusiasm, she rushes over and envelops you in a warm hug. "Oh, you look absolutely stunning!" she exclaims, her eyes taking in every detail of your dress. "That gown is a work of art. Did your mother choose it?" Her delight is infectious, and you can't help but smile in return.

“Actually… I chose this myself,” you can only feel a short surge of confidence fill your body as you said that. Your lips are twitching upwards as you look at her, and clearly, nervousness has embraced your visage and Kara couldn’t help but notice it.

Kara's caring nature shines through as she leans in, her voice filled with concern. "How are you feeling? Nervous about the evening?" She checks in on you, making sure you're comfortable and at ease, and her thoughtfulness washes away any lingering worries, leaving you feeling supported and cherished on this significant occasion. “Would you like me to grab you something to drink?” She offers. 

You shake your head, “a drink is not what I need,” and you were certain that a glass of champagne or wine won't quell the growing unease inside you. Your gloved hand, adorned with delicate lace, trembles ever so slightly as you nervously survey the opulent ballroom. The ornate chandeliers cast a soft, golden glow over the sea of unfamiliar royalty, their gowns and suits shimmering like jewels in the ambient light.

You had spent weeks preparing for this moment, convincing yourself that you were ready to step into the intricate world of courtly affairs. The etiquette lessons, the practice in the mirror, the countless hours spent choosing the perfect gown – all of it had been in service of this night. But now, as the grandeur and complexity of the event unfolds before you, you realize that your earlier confidence was mere bravado.

In this lavish setting, you've come to terms with the fact that you have absolutely no idea where to start. The unspoken rules, the subtle nuances of conversation, and the intricate dance of politics and power seem like an insurmountable challenge. You find yourself longing for the one person who could offer the guidance and wisdom you so desperately need: your mother. Her experience and insight were formidable, even against your initial resistance.

You can't help but yearn for her presence and her unflinching advice in this daunting moment, knowing that her guidance would be the key to unlocking the secrets of this unfamiliar world of royalty.

“My mother… the Queen… have you seen her, Sir Nanami?” You face the knight. From the way you spoke in formalities, almost instantaneously he knew of how urgently you needed to see her.

The blond man surveys the area before he responds, neither confirming nor denying your question, “I will find her for you if that is what you wish, princess. Are you sure you are well? Perhaps Lady Kara is right for a drink—”

“No!” You feel yourself speak without thought, startling both yourself and your closest friends. “I’m sorry… no, no. A drink will not help me, in fact, it might make me feel worst…”

The whirlwind of emotions inside you intensifies as you stand on the brink of this make-believe madness, almost as if you're suspended in a surreal dream. The opulence of the ballroom, the intricate dresses, and the ornate decorations blur together in a disorienting spectacle.

Just as you feel like you might lose yourself in this spectacle, your gaze lands on your mother. She approaches with an aura of regal authority, a striking figure in her black dress with subtle red undertones in her underskirt. Her commanding presence is unmistakable as she gracefully navigates the sea of guests. 

You had expected her to offer words of reassurance, to compliment your exquisite dress, or perhaps to acknowledge the impeccable work of Mrs. Carline on your makeup and hair.

Instead, her expression is stern, and her words take a completely unexpected turn. 

“What in God’s name are you doing, [Y/N]?” Her tone itched with a combination of formality and discipline, having the intent to scold you. “You are supposed to be speaking to these esteemed guests. Finding a suitor. Not standing around with these two fools.” She regarded your friends this way despite their presence in front of her. This did not affect her speech as she continues. “You are supposed to be making a spectacle, not hiding away.” 

The lecture catches you completely off guard, and you feel a mixture of surprise, confusion, and unease. Glancing at Kara and Nanami for support, you find them equally bewildered, their expressions mirroring your own uncertainty. With an apologetic stammer, you excuse yourself from your mother's presence, announcing your intention to "socialize."

As you navigate through the crowd, your thoughts whirl in a chaotic dance. You can't help but wonder about the true motivation behind your mother's stern words. The unexpected advice and her insistent tone leave a lingering sense of disquiet and a multitude of questions in your mind, turning what was supposed to be a fairy-tale evening into a bewildering and enigmatic experience.

Making a spectacle… you thought almost bitterly, my whole life is a spectacle…

Pulling you away from your thoughts, a magnetic force seems to emanate from the man in the distance, pulling you into his orbit. Your thoughts had come into a halt as you admire his broad figure from afar, with his silvern hair and undeniably handsome expression on his face. In a room dominated by older, more formidable figures, his youthful charm and inviting presence make him a much more approachable prospect. His aura radiates comfort and ease, offering a reassuring contrast to the uncertainty that lingers in the air.

Observing how he gracefully accompanies his mother through the elegant crowd adds to your confidence in your choice. The way he navigates the social intricacies and the genuine affection he exhibits with his mother give you the sense that he would be an empathetic and understanding conversational partner. 

In that electrifying moment, as your gaze meets Satoru's across the crowded ballroom, everything else seems to dissolve into a blur of insignificance. The lively dance floor, the animated conversations, and the elegantly dressed guests all fade into the periphery, leaving just the two of you in a world of your own. The feeling in your chest is instantaneous, as if time itself has slowed down to allow this pivotal encounter to unfold. In that shared look, there's an unspoken understanding that transcends the trappings of the grand event. It's as though your hearts have found a rhythm of their own, and the rest of the world falls away as you're drawn into the magnetic pull of each other's presence.

Amidst the exquisite backdrop of the soirée, a profound acknowledgement has been established. It's a moment of quiet intensity, as if the universe itself conspired to bring you together. There's a feeling of intrigue and fascination, like the opening chapter of a captivating novel that promises an extraordinary and unforeseen journey.

Just as you muster the courage to stride purposefully toward Satoru, filled with the hope of a friendly encounter, your intentions are suddenly derailed by the arrival of an enigmatic stranger. He emerges from the shadows like a mysterious phantom, casting an aura of intrigue and uncertainty over the entire event.

Dressed in a resplendent maritime uniform, his attire is bedecked with an ostentatious display of badges and medals, each shimmering with a history known only to him. The commanding uniform demands attention, and it's impossible not to notice the weight of his accomplishments. He is undeniably handsome, but his piercing, mischievous glint in those dark eyes sends a shiver down your spine. The blond hair, streaked with highlights of black, adds to his air of intrigue, as if his very appearance is a riddle to be unraveled.

Standing tall and imposing, he towers over you, casting a shadow that seems to swallow you whole. His presence is undeniable, almost suffocating, and you can't help but feel a strange mixture of awe and apprehension. When he speaks, his words are laced with the urgency of a man on a mission. There's no trace of sincerity or charm in his tone; it's as if he's a man with a secret agenda, and the weight of his purpose hangs heavily in the air.

In this enigmatic figure's presence, you find yourself caught in a whirlwind of emotions, ranging from curiosity to unease. The encounter seems to be laden with unspoken promises and potential dangers, leaving you to navigate the unknown territory of your feelings in this unexpected and captivating twist of fate.

“You must be the esteemed lady of the night.” He spoke with so much confidence as he seemingly took a hold of your laced hand to press a slow, purposeful peck against your knuckles. With an unwavering air of confidence, Naoya addressed you, his intentions far from love but deeply rooted in duty and personal fulfillment.

Your lips, almost agape, struggled to form a coherent response, stunned by the abruptness of his presence. As you collected your thoughts, you couldn't help but succumb to the undeniable allure of his advances. "You mean 'Princess,'" you corrected him, your voice steady as you cleared your throat. "I am no mere 'Lady,' my Lord. And with that distinction in mind, who might you be?"

In that very moment, you observed the subtle yet undeniable twitch in his otherwise composed countenance. It was a rare sight, for usually, women would swoon or melt under the weight of his charm. But with you, it seemed different. He was genuinely irritated by the figurative wall you erected between yourself and him, a testament to your own strong will and determination.

Naoya recognized that "winning" your heart would be an arduous journey, a path filled with obstacles and challenges. Nevertheless, his confidence remained unshaken, fueled by the belief that he could secure the empty throne of your father. In the complex dance of royal ambition, it was a game he was determined to master.

Within the intricacies of the royal court, where desires for power reigned supreme, the Zen'ins were far from wanting. They possessed the means and influence to please the court, making the pursuit of your hand and crown a calculated and strategic endeavour.

On top of that, he was almost baffled at your question; who didn’t know who he was?

“Naoya Zen’in of Colchis.” He had briefly introduced himself and that confident smile that seemed to arduously etch its way onto his stupidly handsome face remained. You let out an exhale, knowing fully well the kingdom which he had travelled from. “And you, stunning princess, must be aware of wherefore I’ve decided to honour you with my presence.” His final statement appeared before you like a testament, almost mocking your status as the cursed princess. 

“Perhaps I do know.” Your response was slow and just as calculating as his intentions. You could now tell if he had led you to the dance floor to entertain you or dissect the thoughts which seemed to occupy your mind. “As many other men in this grand hall do.” 

The grand ballroom came alive with a symphony of hushed whispers and rustling of silks as you and Naoya Zen'in took the floor for your first dance. The gathering of nobility had become a hotbed of speculation and intrigue, the fervent gossip of the other maidens in the room swirling like a tempestuous sea. They couldn't help but notice your choice, and it was whispered with a mixture of envy, admiration, and curiosity, for Naoya Zen'in was known far and wide as a formidable suitor, a man of ambition and power.

It was clear that the gravity of the moment had not escaped the attendees, and the anticipation hung in the air, as if the very room held its breath, waiting to see what would transpire between you.

“Arcadia holds the greatest of weapons, forged by the hands of ancient practice,” Naoya spoke to you as if he had recited that information many times in his head before finally verbalizing it out loud; he knew what he was walking into the moment he took your hand, the question was, did you? “It’s a shame that the capacity of your kingdom’s tools is encumbered by the decree of a woman.” 

Your brows furrowed at his narrow comment. If he believed that women were unfit to manage the weapons of your kingdom, what more did he think of you? You shake your head, “my mother, she worked for what this kingdom has.” You felt the need to defend your mother, despite her cold rule, she was still the woman who raised you. “Everything Arcadia has now was fought for, rightfully so, and not simply passed down, Lord Naoya.” 

“That is undeniable,” he responded with a hint of spite, “but imagine what the people are currently saying now that she is a widowed queen.”

Your breath hitched at that moment. Was he toying with you?

As the waltz commenced, Naoya's confident grasp enveloped you, his strong arm guiding you gracefully across the polished marble floor. The soft strains of the orchestra's melody filled the room, casting an enchanting spell that seemed to erase all time and space. The glistening chandeliers above bathed the room in a warm, golden glow, their crystal prisms scattering the light into a thousand dazzling rainbows, mirroring the complex and colourful interplay of courtly politics.

You could not deny Naoya's skill in the art of dancing, his every step as fluid and precise as the strokes of a masterful painter's brush. His presence was commanding, and the dance itself was a flawless display of grace and control. But as the world around you seemed to blur into a hazy dream, you couldn't help but feel a disconnect between the refined exterior and the turbulent undercurrents of his desire.

The powerful rhythms of the waltz served as a backdrop to the unspoken tension that seemed to thicken the air. As he held you in his arms, his eyes burned with an eagerness that couldn't be concealed, a fervour that lay just beneath the surface of his confident facade. His grip on your waist, though elegant and practiced, betrayed a sense of urgency, a desire to possess, as if he saw this dance as more than just a ceremonial tradition

. You could sense that Naoya was a man who had long harboured ambitions, a man accustomed to commanding the world around him, and the prospect of winning the princess's hand seemed to be the grandest ambition of all. It was a goal that had been etched into his very being, a desire that consumed him, even as he tried to mask it with the veneer of composure.

The dance continued each twirl and step revealing a bit more of his true self, a man whose determination was as formidable as the kingdom he hailed from.

“My father is not dead,” you bite your tongue, you do not want to appear vulnerable before him now that he knows that where your mother stands is where your heart lies. He knew that the grandeur of this event was simply to please the woman who fought for it all. “I believe you know plenty about me already, my Lord, what about you?”

The other maidens' gossip reached your ears like distant echoes, but you remained resolute in your convictions. You had never been one to be swayed by appearances alone. A suitor must possess not only grace but also depth, not just ambition but also the capacity to understand and cherish the intricacies of your heart. You yearned for a connection that transcended the superficial, a love that would ignite the very depths of your soul.

Your mother would have turned down those ideals immediately, especially if she heard that you, her daughter, wanted to feel the desirous peonage of love. 

It was simply unacceptable.

Emotions would make you a weak queen.

Naoya’s voice rose above the soft strains of the orchestra, eager to fill the space with his ambitions. "I was always destined to rule over my brothers," he declared, a glint of certainty in his eyes. "It's only a matter of time before I ascend to the throne. That is enough you should know about me, no?"

You nodded politely, masking your growing discomfort with a smile, and sought to steer the conversation in a different direction. You were certain of his goals now. "What are your hobbies, Naoya?" you asked, hoping to discover a more well-rounded side to this man of power.

But his response left no room for deviation from his grandiose vision. "My hobbies? My dearest, conquering empires with you by my side, of course. I have no time for the trivial pastimes that amuse the imbeciles in this hall. They pale in comparison to the glory that awaits us."

As the waltz continued, he persisted in describing how you would look as "his queen" and the life you would lead at his side. It was a constant stream of grandiosity and self-assuredness, leaving you feeling increasingly suffocated by his unwavering focus on his own ambition.

Attempting to change the subject again, you inquired about his family, hoping to learn more about the man beneath the regal exterior. However, any mention of his kin only seemed to elicit a disdainful gaze.

"My family?" he scoffed. "They are beneath me, merely pawns in the grand game of destiny. I have no need for their counsel or their feeble attempts at ruling. I alone am fit to ascend the throne and lead our kingdom to unparalleled greatness."

He spoke of himself as if he had already won you over. ‘Our kingdom’? You almost jeered at his credence. Your annoyance with his self-absorption grew with each passing word, and you found yourself increasingly impatient with his arrogance. It became clear that Naoya had been indulged and coddled, living in a world where his desires were paramount and his destiny was unquestionable.

Everyone knew that the Zen’ins were in alliance with your family already. However, it wasn’t what many thought. The so-called alliance shouldn’t be synonymous with what your father considered an agreement. This agreement consisted of the exchange of Arcadian silverwork for the promise of allowing Arcadians to fish in Colchis waters. The Zen’ins were quite possessive of the land that they owned, so in sealing this deal, many assumed it was because both kingdoms were set for an alliance. 

That was not the case. Your father despised the Zen’ins. 

You already knew for sure that he was not a man you would ever consider. 

Maki and Nobara stood together on the sidelines, their sharp eyes following the unfolding scene from a distance. The grand ballroom was a spectacle of opulence and grandeur, but amidst the sea of nobility and extravagance, they couldn't help but notice the subtle discomfort that seemed to radiate from you as you engaged in conversation with Naoya Zen'in. It was clear that he was as obnoxious from afar as he had been up close, his self-absorption and ambition dominating the conversation.

Nobara leaned in closer to Maki, a mischievous glint in her eyes as she commented in a hushed tone, "Look at that, Maki. I'd say [Y/N] here is about as thrilled as a demon at a purification ceremony. This Naoya guy sure knows how to make an impression, doesn't he?"

She was holding a tall glass of champagne, something she shouldn’t be drinking yet but who would be stopping her? In her other hand, she held a plate full of delights. Scones, a piece of cake, and an Arcadian native: chocolate.

Maki, however, remained cold and distant, her eyes never leaving you. She had chosen not to give you the benefit of the doubt, perhaps because of the deep-seated skepticism that came with her upbringing in the Colchis kingdom. The Zen'ins were known for their power and ambition, but not for their treatment of women, a dark aspect of their history they had skillfully hidden in the annals of time.

The memory of serving in the Colchis kingdom and the price that came with it still haunted Maki. It was one of the reasons she had fled to Yukinia, leaving behind the oppressive past and seeking a new life where she could forge her destiny. She had seen too much suffering and too many women treated as mere pawns in the games of powerful men, and that experience had left her guarded and wary.

Nobara, ever observant, noticed the subtle shifts in your body language and sensed your discomfort. With a playful smirk, she turned to Maki and proposed, "You know, Maki, it seems like [Y/N] could use a bit of a rescue mission right about now. How about we swoop in, pretend we're her long-lost friends, and save her from the clutches of our ambitious suitor? What do you say?"

Maki hesitated, her expression remaining stoic, and her tone devoid of warmth as she responded, "Nobara, we don't know the whole story here. We should be cautious and not jump to conclusions. Besides, we don't want to create unnecessary drama in a place like this."

Nobara let out a melodramatic sigh, "Oh, Maki, always the voice of reason, aren't you? But don't you think we could at least offer some support to [Y/N] if she needs it? We could easily divert the attention away from Naoya. I mean, we don't want to see Satoru’s future wife suffer, right?"

Maki's gaze remained fixed on you, her thoughts unreadable. She couldn't deny the allure of the idea, but her past experiences had made her cautious, and she wasn't ready to act on impulse. "Let's wait a bit longer, Nobara," she finally said. "If she needs help, she has plenty of knights, ladies, and whatnot to look for. We’re strangers to her for now, we should be patient and see how this plays out."

From the corner of the dark-haired girl's eye, she caught a tantalizing glimpse of how Satoru Gojo, with his characteristic nonchalance, seemed to weave his way through the crowd, approaching you with a fluid grace that belied his casual demeanour. He moved as though the grand ballroom were his own private stage, two drinks in hand, perfectly balanced as if he had performed this maneuver countless times.

Satoru's approach was met with subtle, admiring glances from onlookers who were drawn to his magnetic presence. It was clear that he was a well-known figure in this elite social circle, and his charm had a way of enveloping those around him. With a practiced ease, he navigated the sea of guests, casting an enigmatic aura that left no room for doubt about his status and influence.

Satoru was no stranger to Naoya Zen'in; they had crossed paths on numerous occasions during other grand events and gatherings. The room became charged with unspoken hostilities as the two powerful men came face to face, their paths intersecting with the potential to shift the balance of power. As the evening unfolded, the dynamic between Satoru and Naoya added an intriguing layer of complexity to the grand ballroom, where ambition, rivalry, and desire all coexisted in a delicate dance of power and intrigue.

In the opulent grand ballroom, the air was thick with intrigue as Satoru Gojo approached you, his eyes never leaving yours. His charismatic presence drew the attention of those around him, and the subtle tension in the room seemed to escalate with every step he took. Satoru was known for his magnetic charm and confidence, qualities that had made him a prominent figure in the noble circles.

As he drew nearer, his sharp gaze wandered over Naoya Zen'in's meticulously adorned navy uniform. With a hint of mischief dancing in his eyes, Satoru couldn't resist a sly comment. "My, Naoya, you've got your navy cross on inside out. The medal's facing your chest." His tone was light, but the implication was undeniable.

Naoya's expression darkened in an instant, irritation simmering just below the surface. He had always seen Satoru as a rival, a man who threatened his ambitions and dreams. The comment hit a nerve, and he bristled with frustration. "Mind your own business, Satoru," he retorted, his voice curt. Naoya's patience was wearing thin. "Can't you see I'm having a conversation here?" he asked, his voice edged with frustration.

Satoru's grin widened as he responded, his words dripping with audacity, "More like, you're having a conversation with yourself, my friend." The room seemed to hold its breath at the boldness of his words, and your hand flew to your mouth in a mixture of surprise and amusement. Satoru was undeniably bold, and you found his audacity both entertaining and intriguing.

You, however, couldn't help but giggle at the exchange, finding Satoru's keen observation and cheeky remark entertaining. "Well, Satoru," you chimed in, your tone playful, "I have to admit, you're quite the observant one, aren't you?"

The orchestra's melodies provided a dramatic backdrop to the unfolding drama, their music shifting and evolving as the evening progressed. Suddenly, the orchestra veered into a change of course, the notes shifting to a more lively and upbeat tune. The sweet, melodious strains of Amure Waves filled the grand ballroom, causing a ripple of excitement to course through the guests.

Satoru turned to you, his gaze warm and inviting. "May I have this dance?" he asked. The mischievous glint in his eyes hinted at the playfulness of the offer.

Your heart quickened at the invitation, and you nodded eagerly. "I'd love to," you replied with a smile, your eyes alight with anticipation. The prospect of a dance with Satoru was enticing, and you couldn't resist the allure of his charm.

With a gracious nod, Satoru handed the two glasses of champagne to Naoya. His dismissal of the Zen'in was delivered with an almost victorious grin, a subtle declaration of his dominance in this particular exchange. Naoya, fuming with suppressed anger, had no choice but to accept the glasses as Satoru practically shoved them in his hands. He couldn't hide the irritation that simmered beneath the surface. As you and Satoru moved to the center of the grand ballroom, the world seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of you in a whirl of elegance and grace. The lively tune of Amure Waves enveloped you, and the dance felt like a moment frozen in time, a respite from the world of ambition and politics.

Satoru led with confidence, guiding you through the intricate steps with effortless grace. His touch was light yet sure, and every movement seemed to flow as if it were second nature. The dance was a fusion of skill and intimacy, a silent conversation between two people who had just met but felt an undeniable connection.

The tension that had filled the room earlier had transformed into a different kind of electricity, one that seemed to be born from admiration and curiosity. The boldness of Satoru's actions had injected a new element of excitement into the grand ballroom, and you couldn't help but revel in the exhilarating atmosphere.

As the enchanting melody of "Amure Waves" surrounded both of you on the dance floor, a sense of intrigue and anticipation lingered in the air. The two began their dance, and the playful banter flowed effortlessly between them.

Satoru, with a twinkle in his eye, broke the initial silence. "You know, [Y/N], this dance floor seems to come alive when you step onto it. It's like the music itself is trying to keep up with your grace."

[Y/N], caught off guard by the compliment, chuckled softly. "Flattery will get you everywhere, my Lord. But I must admit, you have a way with words. Observant about medals and now poetic about dance floors."

Satoru's grin widened. "Well, what can I say? I have a knack for spotting the extraordinary. And tonight, that's undeniably you." As the music escalated, Satoru leaned in, his voice a whisper against your ear. "You know, I've been watching you all evening. You navigate these social waters with a truly captivating grace. Tell me, Princess, what's the story behind those eyes? They seem to hold secrets and adventures waiting to be unravelled."

[Y/N], surprised by the depth of his observation, smiled knowingly. "Perhaps the story is still unfolding."

Satoru chuckled, the sound a melodic echo to the music. "Well then, [Y/N], let's make this story one worth remembering."

As the enchanting strains of the orchestra surrounded you and the silvern prince, you came to acknowledge how Satoru’s unrefined charisma became a beacon of light in the grand ballroom. His compliments were like the sparkle of stars against the night sky, and his playful banter created a sense of spontaneity amidst the rigid formality of the event. Satoru's words had a way of lifting the weight of societal expectations, allowing you to momentarily escape into the realm of carefree enjoyment.

However, even in the midst of this newfound charm, a growing unease nestled itself within the recesses of your thoughts. Like a shadow cast by the flickering candlelight, the watchful gaze of your mother lingered in the background. Her eyes, hidden in the shadows, bore into you with an intensity that felt like an unspoken force. Each step on the dance floor carried the weight of familial obligations, a reminder that, despite the enchantment of the evening, you were still tethered to the strings of her expectations.

As Satoru twirled you gracefully, your thoughts drifted to your mother. You wondered, in the quiet contents of her mind, if her thoughts were in harmony with your own. Did she appreciate the genuine connections you were forging, or did she harbour reservations about the unfolding dynamics? The dance floor became a metaphorical stage where the delicate interplay between personal desires and familial obligations played out.

You found yourself caught in a dance of conflicting emotions. The genuine enjoyment of the moment clashed with the ever-present awareness of the watchful eyes that observed your every move. The grand hall, adorned with glistening chandeliers and ornate decorations, became a battleground where the clash between individuality and tradition unfolded.

The room transformed into a kaleidoscope of emotions. Each twirl and laugh carried with it the unspoken question of whether you were living up to the role your mother had envisioned for you. The air was thick with tension, a delicate dance between personal fulfillment and the expectations that hung in the air like the fragrance of blooming flowers. In the tapestry of the grand ballroom, where the elegance of the event intertwined with the complexities of familial obligations, you yearned for a moment of clarity. 

The enchantment of the music and the charm of Satoru were juxtaposed against the weight of societal expectations, creating a nuanced landscape of emotions that painted the dance floor with shades of joy, uncertainty, and the ever-present quest for approval.

Ever perceptive, Satoru began to sense the subtle shift in your demeanor. His keen eyes, like an astute observer of emotions, caught the fleeting moments of unease that flitted across your features. With a slight tilt of his head, he gracefully steered the conversation into a more intimate space.

Satoru, with a gentle twirl that seamlessly incorporated your emotions into the dance, leaned in slightly, his eyes reflecting a genuine concern that transcended the formalities of the evening. "You seem a bit distracted," he observed, his voice a low, soothing murmur that resonated with understanding. "Is there something troubling you, ?"

Caught off guard by the sincerity of his inquiry, you couldn't help but offer a soft smile. The dance floor, which moments ago had been a stage for societal expectations, transformed into a space where vulnerability could coexist with elegance. The lilting notes of the music surrounding both of you created a cocoon of melody, you felt the weight of unspoken burdens press upon your shoulders. The grand ballroom, with its opulent chandeliers casting a warm glow, seemed both a sanctuary and a confessional as Satoru Gojo's perceptive eyes delved into the depths of your emotions.

"It's just," you began, your voice carrying a delicate tremor, "I— I don’t know..." you were unsure whether it was wise for you to share the burden of your thoughts to a man you’ve only met ten minutes ago. “I could tell you every thought that I’m currently experiencing, my Lord, but our position as strangers is preventing me from doing so.”

Your words hung in the air, a delicate dance of vulnerability amidst the swirling elegance. Satoru's gaze held a quiet understanding, acknowledging the intricacies of the unspoken weight that had woven itself into the fabric of the dance.

To an extent, you were right. The dance had brought you together, but the tapestry of your lives remained largely unknown to each other. The mysterious allure of Satoru Gojo was accompanied by the shroud of unfamiliarity. You were not acquainted with the intricacies of his kingdom, nor were you privy to the aspirations that drove him. This ball, though a stage for connection, remained a realm where shadows of mystery loomed. As charming as Satoru presented himself, a flicker of doubt traversed your thoughts. The grand ballroom, adorned with splendor, seemed to whisper tales of men who wore masks of civility but concealed ambitions that echoed in the corridors of power. Your mind, caught in the dance of uncertainty, toyed with the notion that perhaps Satoru was no different from every other man in the grand hall.

This moment appeared to become a metonamy of the delicate balance between the unexplored territories of the heart and the pragmatic choices dictated by societal expectations. 

“My mother used to tell me that words come by nature, to be told in time.” Satoru began and you meet his eyes for a moment; realizing how they seem to capture you in this moment, trapping you in a situation where you are unable to look away from him. It was only you and him, caught in the middle of waltzing figures around you. 

You purse your lips in thought, formulating your following words carefully, “would it drive you away if I told you that whatever is troubling me appears most frequently in this hall?

The white-haired man’s lips curled up in a small smile, intrigued, “what makes you think that will drive me away?”

“Emotions,” you blurt out incospicuously. 

Satoru lets out a chuckle, “you think that I will run away because you are expressing your feelings, Princess?” He shakes his head. "To think that most people believe that you’re cursed…” Satoru's words created a momentary pause in the dance. The unexpected comment left you bewildered, a flicker of surprise etching across your features. You did not anticipate that anyone, let alone a prince, would bring up the undoings of your past. Speechless, you sought clarity.

“Excuse me?” you responded, the confusion evident in your voice. The dance floor, once a refuge, now seemed like a stage for the unexpected unveiling of hidden narratives. The echoes of rumors painted a canvas you had hoped to keep concealed.

“Don’t take this the wrong way, Princess, but rumors are abound, and I have heard much about you…” Satoru's tone was measured, as if carefully navigating the delicate terrain of revelation. The weight of his words settled, leaving you to grapple with the realization that the whispers outside your castle had breached the sanctuary of the dance.

“Did that change your perceptions of me? Am I… just a Cursed Princess to you?” The question slipped from your lips, accompanied by a quiver that betrayed the heaviness rising in your chest. Dread, sadness—emotions tangled in a web of uncertainty. The notion of being personified by those beyond the castle walls felt both foreign and painfully real.

“Absolutely not,” Satoru reassured, the immediacy of his response echoing with sincerity. Yet, the unease lingered, a shadow cast by the revelation. “In a matter of minutes, Princess, you have shown me that you are not unique to, or different from other princesses of this realm,” he continued, and you grappled with the ambiguous nature of his words. Was he calling you ordinary? Boring?

“You are not cursed. You are a human being, regal, may I add, but you are as you’re supposed to be.” His words, though meant to dispel the weight of the rumors, left you in a state of uncertainty. This hall, once a stage for grace and elegance, had transformed into a space where the complexities of identity were laid bare. "You may be the Cursed Princess to everyone else in this grand hall, but if you will allow me: let me know you as [Y/N]." Satoru's invitation to escape the weight of external judgments was a lifeline in the midst of uncertainty. 

The echoes of revelation lingered. His words, delivered with a sincerity that cut through the ballroom's facade, felt like a gentle breeze dispelling the stifling atmosphere. Satoru's eyes, filled with a compassionate understanding, conveyed a shared acknowledgment of the societal pressures that permeated such events. With a subtle tightening of his grip, he conveyed reassurance, a silent promise that, for the duration of this dance, you could escape the weight of those external expectations. 

For the first time you did not carry the weight of your mother’s expectations for you. You were not a princess whose purpose was duty. For the first time, Satoru has shown you that you were more than this regal title that you were born with. 

The Grand Hall, witness to the intricacies of your dance, held within its walls the untold stories that would unfold in time.

“So, let me introduce myself,” Satoru’s smile makes its way on his face; he was so kind, so charming, “my name is Satoru Gojo, Prince of Yukinia, but you can just call me Satoru.”

You were breathless.

“My name…” you tried fighting a grin. You felt so deeply, madly, undeniably infatuated by the white-haired man before you. “My name is [Y/N]. A pleasure to meet you.”

Satoru gleams, “the pleasure is all mine, [Y/N].”

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Literally cannot emphasize enough that my #1 writing advice is to stop being afraid. Stop being afraid of sounding too cringe, or too stupid, or too horrifying, or too horny, or too weird, or too much, or too little, or too you. You need to put your entire pussy into your art. Sure, it won't be to everyone's tastes, but if you keep yourself to the blandest tamest safest roads possible you will be of no one's tastes, not even yours.

are we going to get a jason todd fic

(i’ll post a masterlist soon <33)

guys my bf has tumblr <33

time to use this account

idk might just smash my balls or something

Rachel Zeglar: I’m gonna be the first Snow White who is not going to be a damsel in distress dreaming about true love and instead she’ll learn to become a fighter and a great leader for her kingdom! No one’s ever done an independent Snow White before!

Me: